Disclaimer: Everything belongs to the amazing J.K. Rowling. I own nothing but the plot.

A/N: Yes, I finally decided to update. Sorry about the short length, but I have chapter 3 partially written, so it should be up soon. Random thought: Ya know how the Mirror of Erised shows people what they truly desire? Well, Erised spelled backwards is Desire...Wow, I'ma a quick one, ain't I?? ::ahem:: On with the story....



The Pain Within
Chapter 2: Anger



Draco laughed yet again when Neville Longbottom spilled his potion for the third time that class. He snickered while Professor Snape reprimanded the pudgy boy, who was close to tears. Draco rolled his eyes; after six years, you would think the boy would learn to suck it up. Stupid Gryffindor.

The blond Slytherin poured his Concealment Potion into a small vial. He had completed way ahead of his fellow classmates, and once Snape saw him cleaning up, he questioned the boy.

Finished so soon, Mr. Malfoy?

Draco looked up and grinned confidently. Yes, sir, I found this potion to be rather easy.

The greasy-haired teacher raised an eyebrow suspiciously. Oh, really? This is not a potion of great simplicity; that is why it isn't taught until sixth year.

Then how come I've been able to brew it since I was eleven? Draco shrugged. Well, what can I say? Potions happens to be my best subject.

Snape nodded skeptically. I suppose. Take out other work, please, so you will not disturb the much needed concentration of the rest of the class.

Draco smirked at the comment and pulled out his Transfiguration essay. Not that he intended to do it. He had much more important things to worry about. Like his upcoming birthday.

That Friday he would turn sixteen years old. It was probably the worst dreaded day in his life. Once he turned sixteen, he was eligible for initiation into the Dark Lord's inner circle. His father was anticipating him to bring great honor to the Malfoy name by becoming an extraordinary Death Eater and performing great tasks for Lord Voldemort. Lucius Malfoy had dreams of his son taking the position of Voldemort's second right hand man, he himself being the first. Personally, Draco couldn't give a shit. He didn't want to answer to anyone but himself; an opportunity he seldom had, for his father controlled and decided Draco's life for him. There was absolutely nothing he could do. If he stood up for himself, his father would be enraged and give him a beating he wouldn't forget. If he did nothing but obey his father's wishes, the beating wouldn't be so bad.

The blonde sighed in frustration. To this day, he never understood what he did to deserve abuse. When he was younger, he made himself believe he was a horrible son and his father didn't love him. Now, at 15, he knew his father didn't love him; if he did, why would he hurt his own son? As for the horrible son belief, Draco convinced himself that even if he did his best at everything, which he normally did, it would still never be enough for his father. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't beat Granger at grades, or Potter at Quidditch. And, although it pissed him off that two Gryffindors - Potter and a mudblood at that - always outdid him, he was content being number two. He thought it was quite an accomplishment. Obviously, Lucius didn't, for Draco had scars to prove it.

At the thought of scars, Draco remembered the newest one forming on his lower back from when his father shoved him into the edge of a table. He winced at the memory and quietly snuck the vial of Concealment potion into his bag. He could always use an extra supply, for it was the only way to suppress his fading bruises and cuts from those around him.

~~~

That night at dinner, Draco chatted idly with his fellow Slytherins while they ate the chicken and rice dinner. Draco picked at the rice while Crabbe and Goyle, who sat on either side of him, scarfed down piece after piece of chicken. It disgusted him, the way they could eat enough food for a quarter of the school. It was even more revolting that they just kept growing larger and larger. Draco shook his head at the two and concentrated on his own meal. The only reason he had ever bothered with those two fat lumps was because his father told him to, since both Mr. Goyle and Mr. Crabbe were influential Death Eaters. According to Lucius, it would be beneficial to have good acquaintances' in order to obtain a good status within the Dark Lord's circle.

Draco narrowed his eyes angrily at the chicken he was now stabbing. What his father said. What his father thought. What his father wanted. Nothing ever included Draco's opinion.

As he brooded over the thought, hundreds of owls came swooping into the Great Hall carrying mail. The Malfoy eagle owl was among them. Perfect timing, Draco thought sarcastically. More of Daddy's bidding to do. He figured the letter was informing him of when he was to return home to receive the Dark Mark. He fed the owl the battered remains of his chicken before he tore open the envelope boasting the Malfoy family seal.

Draco,

As you have probably guessed, this is in regards to your upcoming initiation. It will take place this Saturday at 2:00 pm. I have already written Dumbledore and requested your presence at home for family affairs - the old fool will believe anything. The train leaves at 8:00 sharp on Saturday morning. DO NOT be late. Make sure you are prepared. I am expecting your most exceptional behavior.

Or else.

Lucius Malfoy

Draco seethed as he folded the letter in half. No Happy Birthday' or Have a great birthday'. Nothing. No references to his birthday at all. Just orders and threats. The man didn't even have the decency to sign it Dad'. Which suited Draco fine; he could never consider Lucius Malfoy a father anyway.

As rage continued to course through his veins, Draco slammed his fork down on his plate and tossed his napkin on top, and curtly excused himself from the table. He stormed out of the Great Hall and the entire way down to the Slytherin dormitories in the dungeons. He entered his private bedroom - the one advantage of having a wealthy powerful father' - and threw himself on his bed. He closed his eyes. Requesting that Draco have his own private room last year was probably the nicest thing Lucius had ever done, and the only thing Draco was grateful for. He basked in the solitude of the room, away from the other annoying Slytherins. He rolled over and mused his current situation. He might as well enjoy what little freedom he had before it was completely gone.


~*~
Expect Chapter 3 in the next week. Please REVIEW!!!

Fain Oakenbringer: Don't worry, I haven't lost inspiration - my inspiration is a song, which will appear in a later chapter - I've just been lazy, lol. Also, I started this story on November 3, 2002, and unless my math is incorrect, that's almost 3 months ago, not quite a year yet...which I feel terrible for making rose red and Rei.K wait so long, when you guys begged for me not to - SO SORRY!!!! Huge thanks to my other reviewers: Aya, Aude Weasley (or whatever penname you feel like being today, lol, thanx for the email, i'll write you back soon!!), INSANE1, treachery89, and Gerri.