Shatter

Italics = memory or emphasis on a word

…..= song

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Are you surprised?

Edit I changed some stuff in this chapter. I completely redid Lucius Malfoy's character. He doesn't quite strike me as the reckless type anymore. Also decided to continue this ficcie…just because I feel like it. grin


Chapter One: In My Nightmares, I Saw Darkness

He lay in bed, wide awake, staring at the ceiling. He didn't hurt anymore, but sleep still escaped him.

"Draco, Draco, Draco...You know that this is only for your own good." The crackling of a whip, snapping as it slammed into a body.

His mouth twisted in a bitter half-smile, hidden by the darkness. His father had always preferred the harshest ways of punishment.

Silence reigned as the whip snaked up and down, up and down, accompanied by the cold voice of his father. "You've shamed our family, Draco. Every single year, you are defeated by Harry Potter in Quidditch. Every single year, that mudblood's grades rank about yours."

He had learned long ago to stay silent. Screaming or trying to explain only caused his father to comment upon his weakness. It only caused more punishment. By now, he knew better than to let his father see his pain. At least, he wasn't using curses this time.

It was a good thing his mother had delved into healing spells in her younger years. His smile lost some of its bitterness as he thought of his mother. She who would always stand by him, the only person who loved him.

"Why, my son? Why are you unable to beat Harry Potter? Why can you not excel above the mudblood? You descend from one of the oldest pureblood families in history. I am disappointed in you, Draco. You are not strong enough. You are weak. And until you become stronger, you are useless to me." the blonde-haired man continued, in the same emotionless, uncaring voice.

There was still only silence. He was angry. Draco knew his father was angry. Normally, he did not stoop to the level of actually speaking to Draco whilst punishing him. The whip came down harder, faster. A metallic taste filled his mouth, and he noticed that he had bitten through his lip. He gritted his teeth, determined not to scream.

He silently moved off the bed and stepped onto the balcony, greedily inhaling the night air, his eyes closed.

Darkness began to gather at the corners of his eyes. He wondered what had happened. Perhaps something had occurred with the Dark Lord? Normally, his father exercised more control. The blackness threatened to overwhelm his completely. He could feel himself slipping into unconsciousness. The pain on his back, which had burnt like fire just a few seconds ago, seemed to numb as the world slowly slipped away from him.

"This is only for your own good…" he heard vaguely before everything was consumed in darkness.

He opened his eyes, watching the twinkling stars overhead. There had been days when he had been happy.

I still remember the world
From the eyes of a child

His childhood had been peaceful up 'till the age of six. His mother had managed to persuade his father, though he had no clue how, to give him those five years of peace, of blissful ignorance about the real world. Back then, his father had been the cold, emotionless man. Draco had always felt a little hurt that his father was never warm or kind, but for the most part, he had ignored him.

His mother had always been there. She had been his very world. She was the one who had sung him to sleep at night, who had comforted him when he was afraid. She had been the one to play with him, the one who made him laugh. He had thought she was quite the most beautiful person in the world. Life couldn't have gotten any better.

But it had changed when he turned six. The beatings had begun. His father had suddenly become a major part of his life. In everything he did, his father would find something wrong, something little mistake that gave reason for a 'punishment.' Lucius Malfoy saw defiance in his every act, saw stubbornness in his every step. Nothing ever seemed to satisfy the man; nothing ever made him happy. In the beginning, Draco had tried his hardest to please his father. But nothing had ever seemed good enough. He did everything to the best of his ability, and usually the tasks he had to perform were performed almost perfectly.

Almost perfectly.

And that was reason enough for punishment.

"This is for your own good, Draco. You must learn endurance. You must endure the pain."

His mother, however, was still there, his one spot of sunshine in a world of gray. She would always soothe his hurts, despite being unable to do anything to prevent them from happening to him…or to her. And for her, it was worse. With Draco, Lucius showed control; he completely believed that he was punishing Draco for a reason. With her, he vented out his frustrations. He allowed himself to lose that precious control. With her, he dropped his mask…and the person behind it was ugly..

Lucius Malfoy was not a very patient husband.

He had begun his lessons about Voldemort and the greatness of the Dark Lord. Even now, he remembered the mantra that had been burned into his brain through those lessons: The Dark Lord is all-powerful. We are his faithful followers. Death to those who oppose the Dark Lord. He had learned about Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, had been taught to hate him. He was taught that mudbloods were to be scorned, that he, a pureblood was above them.

Slowly those feelings
Were clouded by what I know now

In the matter of a week, all of his childhood dreams and fantasies had been shattered. His heart had once been a mirror, full and shining, reflecting the innocence of a child. It was now broken, the shards of glass scattered among the wind, a few piercing his very soul but most of them lost. What little remained revealed only darkness and pain, a pain deeper than that of the body.

And so he had become what he was now, Draco Malfoy of the house of Slytherin, the arrogant, sarcastic young wizard. He was the one who scoffed at others, made fun of anyone in a different house, the one whose façade was impenetrable.

Where has my heart gone
An uneven trade for the real world

He sighed, staring into the dark night sky, lit only by the slim crescent of the moon and the light of the stars. How he wished that he could be like them, living wild and free, shining with his own light, without a care for the rest of the world.

I want to go back to
Believing in everything and knowing nothing at all

He woke, lying on his chest, to softness and warmth. A fire was crackling, sending waves of cozy heat into the room. He felt weary, extremely weary. For a moment, he forgot where he was, who he was. Then it all drifted back to him.

The whip. The pain.

His eyes snapped open, meeting a pair of worried blue ones in a face half covered by a large, purple bruise. The face's expression of worry melted into one of relief. "Honey," his mother's soft voice said, "are you all right?"

I still remember the sun
Always warm on my back

The pain was gone. He was surprised that he hadn't noticed it sooner.

Somehow it seems colder now

He reached up and gently touched his mother's face, the bruised half. She winced but didn't pull away. "He hurt you again, didn't he?" he asked, his voice raspy with the dryness in his throat. The answer was clear in his mother's clear blue eyes as she stood up and got a cup of water for him. He sat up slowly, his back still tender. "That bastard," he growled.

"Shhh…" his mother said, giving his the cup and clasping her hands around his. "Don't speak in such a way." He stared at her hands, small and gentle. The hands of a healer. She didn't deserve this, not his sweet, loving mother. "Drink this and then get some sleep, my little dragon." He obeyed, draining the cup.

"I love you, Mom," he said softly. His mother said nothing but reached out and pulled him into a hug. Unknown to him, a tear fell to the floor. She pulled away, and he closed his eyes, the gentle lullaby his mother was singing lulling him into peaceful, dreamless sleep.

He strode back into his room, which was large and grand, the furnishing ornate. He hated it.

Where has my heart gone
Trapped in the eyes of a stranger

He hated himself. For not being able to help his mother, for not being strong enough to defend her. He hated himself for the thought that maybe if he had done something drastic, or if he did something drastic, things might have been different for her.

I want to go back to
Believing in everything

Draco flopped back onto his bed. He didn't want to think about anything. He closed his eyes and made his mind blank, as he often did when there were many people around in order to better focus on acting like how a Malfoy should act, and soon drifted off into a troubled dream filled with echoes of his memories.

Outside, the moon and stars shone on without a care for what happened to the boy who had gazed longingly at them that summer's night.

Where has my heart gone
An uneven trade for the real world
I want to go back to
Believing in everything and knowing nothing at all

This isn't…this wasn't how I wanted to turn out. This isn't who I wanted to be. This isn't…

Is it?

I still remember…


Once again, like most of my other fics, unbelievably spontaneous. I was reading Draco and Harry slash fics and just pulled up word and started typing and this was the result. Not my first fic for HP, but my first Draco/Harry slash/angst. I think I will continue it, though I'm not positive. Depends on what kind of feedback I get, so tell me what you think!

Tears of Eternity