Old Author's Note (Abridged): I think that's it for now, except to warn you: THE VIOLENT FLASHBACKS BEGIN IN THIS CHAPTER; if you can't handle them, then skip them or go away. That's all.

Disclaimer: They're not mine. You knew that.

My Angel is a Dragon, My Devil is a Snake

-Catspook

Chapter 4: Friends and Flashbacks

c~c~c~c~c

"You stupid, useless, little whore! What did I tell you about how to behave towards your betters? You offended my friend!"

"But, father-"

"Don't you speak to me you lying piece of filth! You are pathetic! Can't you do anything right? I give you every advantage and still you can't manage to do the simplest task properly!"

Eight-year-old Lucius bowed his head submissively in the way he knew his father liked. "I'm sorry," he said, trying to sound sincere. He was terrified of what Abraxas was planning to do to him, but he was not sorry for saying no when McNair sr. had started groping him during his mother's dinner party. Abraxas had never told him that 'being nice' to his friends involved letting then do *that*. Furthermore, Abraxas had told Lucius many times that he was not supposed to let others touch him like that; he belonged to Abraxas and Abraxas alone.

Lucius gasped but did not flinch when Abraxas grabbed a fistful of Lucius' hair and forced the boy to look at him. "You're not half as sorry as you will be, you insignificant, little worm," Abraxas snarled. The older wizard then dragged Lucius down the hall by his hair. Lucius stumbled, trying to regain his footing; it felt like Abraxas was pulling out every hair on his head! Lucius knew what was coming; it had happened often enough. He was terrified; he didn't want this to happen! But he knew that fighting Abraxas was only going to make him even more enraged.

Please, someone, help me, Lucius begged silently, though he knew full well that no one was going to come to his aid. When they reached the dungeons, Abraxas tossed Lucius into a cell and forced his small writs into the heavy, iron shackles.

"I am going to talk to my friend now, and you will *not* refuse him a second time. You are mine and I will give you to whomever I like. You will obey me or I will kill you; you are nothing to me. Remember that." Lucius then tensed as he felt the tip of Abraxas' wand on the back of his neck. "Crucio," Abraxas hissed, and the pain was all Lucius could think about for the next few minutes.

Lucius could tell that Abraxas had just walked away, as the spell lost intensity gradually instead of ending suddenly. If the curse ended quickly it meant that Abraxas had removed it. If it faded gradually it simply meant that there was an increasing physical distance between Abraxas and himself; Lucius had a great deal of experience in these matters. He leaned his forehead against the wet, slimy, stone wall of his cell. Isn't there anyone who can protect me from Him?

c~c~c~c~c

Lucius awoke, panting, the stuffed dragon like ice in his arms. "Thermos," he sighed, disgusted to realize that he was becoming so dependent on a stuffed animal. He only hoped that Draco was not getting as much use out of the panther.

The announcer on the wizard wireless cheerfully declared that it was a quarter past four in the morning. Lucius let his head fall back onto the pillow, unconsciously hugging the dragon closer to him. Could he not get more than two continuous hours of sleep? He needed to rest; he knew he did, but every nightmare made him even more afraid of closing his eyes. The ill feeling in his stomach had only intensified, and it was an effort for him not to be physically sick.

It finally occurred to Lucius that he should take a potion to get rid of this illness, but he didn't have the energy to shout for Dibby. Besides, he rather believed that he deserved to suffer; he certainly had inflicted much worse torments on Draco in the past.

Lucius let his body go limp and his mind wander. It was simply too much of an effort to do anything, to focus on any thought. Of course, he could think about his son for hours, but it was becoming very painful to do so; whenever he thought of him now, Lucius invariably began to think about how he had hurt him so badly in the past.

Lucius lay in bed, unmoving, his mind blank, and his emotions numbed and jumbled together, for hours. Not that he was keeping track; it could have been ten minutes or ten days before Hades came swooping down on him. Lucius almost smiled at the owl; he didn't think he would have had the energy to make it to the owlery and back, and he would have been loathe to let those disgusting house elves touch the letter he had written to his son.

Lucius tied the letter to Hades' leg, ordering him to take it to the dorms instead of the Great Hall. Lucius then collapsed against the pillows, entirely drained. Why was he so exhausted? Lucius held the dragon closer, finding it difficult to remember why that was supposed to be shameful. He began to drift off, aware of the daylight creeping across his bedroom, though he could not remember exactly why that was important either.

O~O~O~O~O

Lucius spent the next three days not moving from his bed except for the occasional visit to lav when the nausea got to be too severe. No matter how long he slept - and in the daylight he managed to sleep a great deal – he felt totally drained.

The nightmares kept coming several times a day despite all attempts Lucius made to stop them. He even considered taking some Dreamless Sleep potion, but he had gotten addicted to it before; while he could handle the occasional half dose in very specific situations, he knew that taking it now would be too much of a temptation. How would he explain to Draco that he had become an addict not once but twice?

Sometimes, Lucius would wake to find that Dibby had left a glass of pumpkin juice and some bread or fruit in his nightstand. He couldn't work up the energy to be angry at her presumptuousness. He occasionally even had the inclination and strength to sit up and take a few sips, but most of the time he spent hovering on the edge of consciousness, trying not to think about anything in particular.

But this routine was interrupted, and the haze over Lucius' mind lifted somewhat, when Hades came flying into Lucius' bedroom with a letter from Draco. Lucius opened it like a starving man would a parcel of food and devoured the message with his eyes. No matter what happened, as long as Draco was happy, Lucius could live with himself.

Dear Father,

Are you sure you're all right? It seems like you aren't telling me everything. I want to know how you're doing; please don't lie to me.'

Draco was entirely too observant for his own good; Lucius really had to work harder at concealing his problems from him. He did not want to lie to Draco, but Lucius had to protect him from Abraxas.

That aside, thank you for replying so quickly to my letter; I knew you would listen. Classes have been okay so far. Potions was great! When professor Snape pointed out that I came out on top of our year, Granger started arguing with him, and he took twenty points off Gryffindor for arguing, and fifty more when Weasley tried to hex me. Potter actually got mad at Weasley for losing the points and they had a huge argument right in the middle of class. Snape took twenty-five points from each of them (He probably would have taken more, but Potter was defending me, saying it wasn't my fault; can you imagine?) and gave them both two weeks detention.

All of the Gryffindors are now angry with the three of them (less so Potter; it was Weasley's hex after all). Maybe they will all come to their senses and realize that Weasley is an immature, little weasel. Probably not; we are talking about Gryffindors here.

Sirius Black is the new DADA teacher (I forgot to tell you that in my last letter, didn't I?). He's horrible! He acts more like a student than a professor, and he blatantly favors the Gryffindors. I'd even have preferred to have the werewolf back; at least he knew what he was talking about and knew how to organize a lesson. Black also pulls pranks on the students he doesn't like; he hasn't done anything to me yet, but I'm keeping an eye out for it.

Valini has made muggle stuff really popular; it's driving me insane. He's always playing muggle music from a recorb in the Slytherin common room. He wears muggle clothes on the weekend as well; almost everyone does now.

He plays 'films' on the ceiling of the Great Hall on Thursday nights (films are, according to Millicent, like a cross between portraits and plays). He told me that if I wanted to see what some muggles think about witches and wizards I should go next Thursday; he is apparently playing 'The Sword in the Stone'. I must admit I'm rather curious, but to watch something that was made by muggles? Surely is will be horrible. Would it be all right if I did go, just to see how horrible it is?

Things are going all right with Millicent. I found her sitting alone out by the quidditch pitch yesterday (I was going to go out flying for a bit). We talked a bit about classes and things, and I volunteered to help her with her potions homework; she's a lot smarter than Crabbe or Goyle, but she does have a bit of trouble with the harder subjects. She said that Blaise volunteered to help her, but she said he was too 'hyper' for her. He's always bouncing around, and he never stops singing; he is so annoying!

Being a prefect is okay. The prefects' bathroom is great (but you were a prefect, so you knew that already), but working with the other prefects can really be a pain. Nothing ever gets done at the meetings; everybody is always too busy gossiping. Granger, of course, goes the other way; she is always pushing to get things done, and acting like a self-righteous twit. Most of the other prefects are really starting to avoid her; it serves her right, really.

I'm doing a bit better, now, I think. I still miss you, but I feel less... afraid, you know? People aren't being as nosy about why I left in the middle of last term as I thought they would be. I'm going to stop now, because talking about this is making me sad, and it's almost dinner, anyway. I'll write you again in a few days.

love,

Draco

From paragraph to paragraph, Lucius responded strongly to the changes in the mood of the letter. After three days of fatigue-dulled feelings, he was finding the intensity of the emotions especially painful. But it was still better than being without a sense of purpose. He could not seem to work up the energy to care about his own welfare; only Draco seemed to be able to hold his interest. Even so, he had to rest a bit before writing a reply.

Draco,

I am glad that you are feeling better now, but don't feel as if you need to avoid what happened. If at any time you feel like having difficulties, owl me. And please remember that if you want to come home, I will come get you at any time, day or night.

I was greatly vexed - if not particularly surprised - to discover the identity of your new DADA teacher. If Black bothers you, definitely come to me immediately. I'm sure that Severus would be willing to help you, but Dumbledore has proven time and again that he will take Black's side in any disagreement, no matter how strong the evidence against Black or severe the consequences.

Lucius hoped that his wording was strong enough to get his message across; he really did not want to have to explain to Draco that Black had almost gotten away with murdering Severus in school. Black had always had a particular loathing for Severus, and Lucius did not want Draco to be caught in the middle of it.

If you would truly like to watch Valini's 'film', then go. I am not thrilled by the idea of you embracing muggle culture, but I don't think that one 'film', as you call it, will corrupt you; I have know you for fifteen years, and I know that you are much too stubborn for that.

I am glad to hear that your association with Millicent is progressing well. I never did like the Crabbes or the Goyles all that much; brute force has its uses, but I'd much prefer you to have a friend with a mind. If you are happy with your relationship with Millicent, then I am happy for you.

I miss you as well, my precious.

Now for the most difficult part; Lucius had to respond to Draco's inquiries about how he was and what he was doing without making him worry or outright lying to him.

I appreciate your concerns for my well-being, but I assure you that you do not need to worry about me. I am getting a lot of rest; I am thinking of it as an extended holiday.

Well, that was technically true; he wasn't working. Reading over what he had written, he decided that he had best end the letter now, before he managed to say something that would cause Draco to worry. Not to mention that the effort of writing and concentrating so intently on his phrasing was making Lucius very light-headed.

Remember to take care of yourself, and write me as often as you feel the need.

Love,

Father

It took the last bit of Lucius' energy to fold and address the letter and attach it to Hades' leg. He barely remembered to remind to owl to deliver the letter to Draco's dorm and not the Great Hall before fading into unconsciousness.

O~O~O~O~O

Draco was convinced that the professors had gone mad. It was only two and a half weeks into the term and they were already railing about the OWL's. Granger was positively giddy whenever a professor declared, 'this will most likely be on your OWL's', but almost everybody else groaned. Draco was glad that he had quit quidditch; he'd never be able to manage it on top of being a prefect and maintaining such high grades.

Happily, Draco was discovering that helping Millicent review was also helping him to understand the material better. Things with Millicent were certainly progressing nicely. She was much better company than Crabbe and Goyle had ever been, and she wasn't in love with Valini and Potter like the rest of the school seemed to be. Most of the time it seemed like it was Draco and Millicent against the rest of the student body, though Draco had never figured out why Millicent had never latched onto Valini like the rest of the remaining Slytherins had. He really ought to ask her sometime.

At the moment, Draco was on his way to meet her down by the lake. The weather had been beautifully cool and mildly cloudy this past week, and after so much time confined indoors last spring and much of last summer, Draco tried to find time to go outside whenever he could.

Draco was bringing some of the sweets his father had sent him to share with his new friend; he was also bringing along his history book in case Millicent wanted to go over what Binns had been droning on about in class that morning. When Draco got to the lake, Millicent was already there, waiting for him.

"Hi, Draco," she smiled shyly.

"Hello, Millicent," Draco smiled back. "Would you like to go over history a bit?"

Millicent shrugged. "If you want. I'm bloody sick of studying," she growled, chucking a rock into the lake. She had quite an arm on her.

"You should try out for quidditch this weekend. I bet you'd be a great beater, and they need seven new players this year."

Millicent threw another rock. "That's what Hill and Valini said, but I don't have a broom."

Draco sat comfortably on a large boulder and replied, "I'm sure your parents would buy you one if you made the team; I know they have money."

"Oh, they have the money all right, but they would never spend that much on me," Millicent sighed. She looked miserable.

"Why not?" Draco asked, concerned.

Millicent glanced at him, as if she was not sure whether she should explain further. Finally, she continued, "My parents don't like me."

"What? How could they not like you?"

Millicent smiled slightly, but also snorted in disgust, "Look at me; I'm not exactly any parent's 'little princess'."

"They don't like you because you aren't pretty?" Draco questioned, disbelieving.

Millicent shrugged. "That's part of it, anyway. My dad, you see, is a quarter ogre, but my mum is really pretty and refined. My older sister is just like her: beautiful, smart, and talented. She was head girl with Bill Weasley, and now she is an assistant to the British wizard ambassador in Germany. My parents were so relived that she wasn't like my dad. I was sort of an accident. My parents would have been okay with it if I was like Angelina, but as you can see, I'm not."

Draco thought for a moment, contemplating his own relationship (or lack there of) with his mother. He looked at Millicent and said, sincerely, "I'm sorry."

Millicent smiled the tiniest bit. "Thanks."

"Um... would you like some sweets? My father always sends too much."

Millicent drew her thick, brown eyebrows together. "Your father? I thought your mother was the one who sent you sweets."

Draco flushed and looked at the ground. He had told people that because...well, he had liked to pretend that his mother actually cared enough about him to think of sending him sweets. That was also why had told people that the reason he didn't go to Durmstrang was because his mother wanted him to stay closer to home; the truth was that his father had wanted him to go to the same school that Malfoys had gone to for centuries.

"Draco? Are you all right?" Draco flushed, realizing that he had been staring at the ground for too long.

"I'm fine. My parents divorced last year; my mother lives in France now."

"Oh, that's right! I'm sorry, I forgot that that was in the papers; I'm really sorry."

Draco glanced at her; she looked genuinely sorry. "It's okay. My mother never did send me sweets, I just wanted people to think that she did."

Millicent sat next to him on the moss-covered boulder, "Why?"

Should he tell her? He would be leaving himself vulnerable to her, and he was afraid. But she had already opened herself up to him, and wasn't this what one was supposed to do with friends? He'd wanted to be her friend, after all. "She... she never really cared for me, I think. The only times she ever did anything for me was when I was little: she dressed me up for parties. When I turned ten, Father said I was too old for it, and she never seemed interested in me after that. I didn't want people to know that."

"But why wouldn't she be interested in you? You're perfect."

"What?" Draco looked at Millicent wide-eyed; she thought he was perfect? Despite himself, Draco blushed (and considering how pale he was, when he blushed it was very noticeable). "You think I'm perfect?"

Millicent shrugged. "Well, yeah. You're handsome, popular, smart, and you're a good quidditch player..."

"I've never beaten Potter," Draco growled.

"Well, yeah, but Potter's even better than Krum, and Krum is one of the best seekers in the world."

"Yeah, I guess. I don't like playing much anyway; I prefer just flying around. Hey, why don't you try out with my broom? It's far better than the Weasleys' brooms. I still think you'd make a great beater."

Millicent gaped at him. "You... you'd lend me your broom?"

Draco grinned, "Of course; you need a broom, and the team needs you."

"But... your broom is really expensive."

"So? The beaters' brooms hardly ever get damaged, and father would buy me a new one if something happened to it. Besides, I bet your parents would buy you one if you got on the team. I mean, wouldn't they be happy if you became a quidditch star?"

"A star? I could never be a star; Hill is going to be a beater too, and she is almost as talented as Potter. The only reason she wasn't on the team before was because Flint didn't want any girls on his team. Plus I think he might have suspected she was a muggle-born."

Fiona 'Flare' Hill was the daughter of Constance Lynda Hill, the muggle who had amazed the wizarding world by incapacitating over a dozen Death Eaters using muggle 'martial arts' during the attack on the Hogwarts Express. Professor Snape had appointed Hill team captain a week ago.

"You never know how good you are going to be until you practice on a decent broom." Draco offered, but then he thought he had said the wrong thing when Millicent started to cry. "Millicent? Are you okay, did I say something wrong? I'm sorry..."

Millicent shook her head, "No... no, It's okay. It's just, no one has ever been this nice to me before."

Draco was glad that he hadn't upset her, but he was kind of embarrassed, and he was sad for her also. Draco had never really had friends that cared for him very much, but at least his father loved him.

"Um... are you sure you're all right?" Millicent nodded, wiping her tears away with her large, thick fingers. It was true that she wasn't very pretty or feminine, or even very smart, but she was nice, and it really wasn't fair that her parents treated her like that. "Why don't I go get my broom and we can go practice at the Quidditch pitch. All right?"

Millicent nodded and smiled tearily. "Thanks."

"Well, that's what friends are for, aren't they?"

O~O~O~O~O

c~c~c~c~c

"You pathetic, little whore! I should kill you! You are not fit to carry on the Malfoy name!" Abraxas bodily threw Lucius against a barrister bookcase, shattering two of the panels and sending a rain of glass shards over Lucius' trembling form...

c~c

"Look what I found in the gardens, Daddy! Can I keep him?" Draco held a large, slimy, black toad in his little hands, his big, silver eyes adorably wide, yet calculating; he knew Lucius couldn't resist that look...

c~c

"Quidditch? You think you should be flying about on a broomstick, your robes flapping about you like some bint's dress caught in draft? You little idiot, you want to disgrace the Malfoy name flitting about like a pixie! Brooms are tools, not toys, and I will make sure you remember that!" Abraxas pulled his traveling broom out of the closet in his office, pinned Lucius against the wall, lifted the hem of his robe, and...

c~c

Draco pushed a carefully wrapped box into Lucius' hands and said quietly, "Happy Christmas, father. I hope you like it, I spent a month looking for it..."

c~c

Abraxas glided up and down his office like a dementor. "She is acceptable, which makes me wonder why she would have anything to do with you. I am allowing this because the Malfoy line must continue, but before you give her the ring, I am going to remind you who you really belong to..."

c~c

"Hello, father. How was your trip?" Draco smiled at Lucius and shook his hand firmly, like Lucius had taught him to. He then grinned, still very much a young boy. "Did you bring me a present?"

c~c~c~c~c

Lucius had no idea what day it was. It seemed as if he had been hovering on the edge of consciousness and unconsciousness, life and death, pain and numbness, for years. The occasional, rational, intact thoughts were often lost in a sea of fractured images and partial memories.

The thoughts that did manage to catch and keep Lucius' attention all centered on one of two people: Abraxas or Draco. The memories of Abraxas were getting worse, and they were the reason that Lucius often didn't want to think clearly; the pain was simply too intense. Lucius' memories of Draco, however, shone like stars in his mind; he clung to them desperately.

The only times Lucius ever emerged from this fog was when a letter arrived from his precious son; Draco was the only reason he didn't let himself drift away completely. Lucius sometimes felt like Abraxas and Draco were at war inside him; the winner would gain possession of Lucius' soul.

Lucius felt completely powerless; sometimes he would rail against his memories of Abraxas, usually with the belief that he could never succeed. Sometimes, he would just lie passively and let the pain wash over him; Abraxas had always become even more dangerous if Lucius tried to fight back. Sometimes, Lucius would focus all his energy into holding onto images of Draco until the sting of some past injury he had inflicted on his precious son would force him to let go. Sometimes he let his memories Draco drift away because he knew that he wasn't worthy of such beautiful, perfect creature, and sometimes he simply didn't have the energy to hold on to them any more.

Occasionally, Lucius was vaguely aware of cool water, hot soup, or tangy potions passing through his lips, but he never speculated at the source; he simply did not care. He did, however, care that Hades had just come soaring into his bedroom.

"Hades," Lucius croaked, in a voice that he no longer recognized as his own. Hades hooted, alighting on the headboard, and held out a leg. Lucius untied the letter with fingers trembling from fatigue. Lucius waved Hades off to the owlery and opened the letter.

Dear Father,

How are you? The last few days have been really great. I lent Millicent my broom so that she could try out for the Slytherin Quidditch team, and she got on; she's an excellent beater. I watched the try-outs, and even though we are going to have all new players, we might still have a chance against Gryffindor, and Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw haven't got a chance.

At the last prefects' meeting, we decided that the first Hogsmeade weekend will be October 21st. If you aren't busy, maybe you can meet meat the Three Broomsticks. I'd like to see you..." Lucius didn't finish the rest of the letter.

Draco wanted to see him! Lucius was elated, but how was he going to manage to get to the Three Broomsticks in the condition he was in?

"Dibby!" Lucius yelled as loud as he could.

"Yeses, Master Lucius sir?" the trembling elf groveled.

"What is the date?"

"The date is being October 5th, Master Lucius sir." That meant that Lucius had a little over two weeks to pull himself together. He suddenly remembered that hadn't bathed for quite some time. It was an enormous effort for Lucius to climb out of bed. He staggered to the bathroom, aware that he was weaving erratically like a drunkard...

c~c~c~c~c

Abraxas ' breath reeked of the firewhiskey he had been drinking all night. "You're going to remember who you belong to while you're at Hogwarts. You're going to feel this until Christmas, you little whore...

c~c~c~c~c

Lucius collapsed against the doorframe, panting and sweating as if he had run a mile. He waited for the memory to subside before stumbling to the sink. As he bent to splash some water on his face, he caught a glance of himself in the mirror. He froze; was that really him?

* End Chapter 4 *