Author's Note: As requested by alyssialui and RolledupinOne, this is a chapter from Lucius's point of view while he is in Azkaban. This chapter is slightly AU because of references made to Lucius's childhood, and of course we really don't know much about his childhood. That, therefore, gives me some freedom to imagine what his childhood might have possibly been like.

He missed her, and he was ashamed that he was just now realizing how much she really meant to him. He was ashamed that he was just now realizing how much he really needed her.

She had always been there for him whenever he had needed comfort and whenever he had doubted himself.

Yes, he had needed comfort on many occasions. As a child, he had hated the summers because that had meant being all alone in the manor with his tyrannical father. Narcissa's letters had been the only thing that had kept him sane and hopeful, hopeful that life would one day get better.

After he had taken the Dark Mark, Narcissa had always been there to comfort him whenever he had been hurting. And she had never mocked him for any weakness that he might have shown.

And yes, he had doubted himself on many occasions. He had disappointed both his father and the Dark Lord when he had not done a good enough job proving just how loyal he was to blood purity. He had disappointed the Dark Lord often during his time of servitude. The resulting punishments had always left him feeling like he wasn't good enough.

But he had always been more than good enough to Narcissa. She had never lost hope in him, she had never doubted him. She had always treated him as if he was the most wonderful person in the world, even when he had not felt that wonderful.

He didn't feel so wonderful at the moment. He felt like quite the failure actually. He really needed Narcissa to lift him back up.

But she couldn't, no matter how much she may have wanted to. He was imprisoned in Azkaban, and she had to face the Wizarding World all by herself. She had to endure the stigma of being the wife to a convicted Death Eater. It would not matter to them that she herself did not have the Mark. Just being associated with him would be enough for her to be judged. She was suffering just as much as him, if not more.

He tried not to focus too much on his own personal pain and misery. He would go mad if he did.

He was actually quite use to being locked in a dark, cold, filthy cell. As a child, he had spent a lot of time in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. His father had known that would be the best punishment for his failure of a son. His father had known that his son hated being confined in tight spaces for long periods of time. The son had found torture to be a more preferable form of punishment.

But just because he was used to being locked in a cage like a worthless, dirty animal did not mean that he liked or enjoyed his current predicament. No, he was hating every moment of it.

He tried to keep himself occupied with his thoughts, but he could only recite his favorite philosophy book so many times before it started to do something horrible to his mind. Philosophy was now a subject that was close to driving him completely mad.

And he had already counted the bricks in his cell numerous times. Counting them again would only make him go mad. Besides, the number of bricks would not change, no matter how many times he counted them. And he wasn't about to start imagining bricks. No, he wouldn't go down that path.

He really needed Narcissa. She had always been good at keeping him from completely losing his mind. She had always had the gift of being able to calm him down whenever he had gotten too excited or upset about something. She had been the only one who had ever been able to keep him grounded.

He hoped that Narcissa wasn't needing him too much. She wasn't only having to deal with her own grief. She was also having to deal with Draco's grief. And Draco was a lot like him in many ways. Like him, Draco had the tendency to make things more dramatic than was necessary. And poor Narcissa was having to deal with an excitable son all on her own.

He knew that he had not always been the best father. He had been stricter and colder than Narcissa. And he had not always spoken the most comforting words to Draco when his son had been upset about something. But he had always acted as a balance to Narcissa. She had been the one to offer comfort, while he had been the one who had tried to get Draco to understand the realities of the world. His methods may not have always been the best, but Narcissa had always been there to act as his balance.

He and Narcissa had made the perfect team, but now they were no longer a team. Now it was just Narcissa. She was now having to perform the dual roles of both mother and father.

She was also having to deal with the Dark Lord. He knew that the Dark Lord had to be angry with him. He had failed miserably, after all. And as his wife, Narcissa was his representation when he was not able to be available. He clearly couldn't be available while he was in Azkaban. So, that left poor Narcissa to endure the Dark Lord's wrath, the wrath that was meant for him.

He could only hope that the Dark Lord was not hurting her or Draco. He couldn't bear to think of such thoughts for too long. He didn't want to imagine the worse. But he couldn't help it.

If his teeth and nails had been enough to break out of Azkaban, he would have been back at home by now. But his various body parts had so far proven to be inadequate tools in accomplishing that goal.

He felt so helpless. He barely had any room to move around. All he could do was think, and thinking was slowly starting to drive him mad. He needed to be able to turn his thinking into action. But in his current circumstance, he couldn't act no matter how much he thought about it. He was as good as useless.

He wondered if Narcissa now thought him as helpless and useless. She had been left all alone because of his failure. He couldn't help her in any way. She was having to do everything now, all by herself. She had to be disappointed in him. She had to hate him.

How was she coping? Was she just as much of an emotional mess as he was? Or was she doing well and now realizing that she no longer needed him?

He couldn't bear the thought of not being needed. He especially couldn't bear the thought of not being needed by Narcissa. She was his comfort when he was feeling miserable. She was his strength when he was feeling weak. She was his sanity. She was the calmness of his storm. She was his everything. If he was to lose her, he would lose everything worth living for.

He truly missed having her at his side. She would have been able to make everything feel better.

He was ashamed that he was just now realizing how much he really needed her.