Disclaimer: All characters and places in the Harry Potter universe belong to J.K. Rowling – I own none of them, I simply play with them.

A/N: I decided to turn this chapter into a bit of a songfic written in first person perspective – the lyrics are 'Numb' by Linkin Park – not usually my band of choice, but the lyrics fit so perfectly to Draco's situation that I couldn't resist ^^

Big kisses to The Morning Starr, my newest beta reader – if you're a fan of Draco and haven't read her 'Draco Malfoy's Diary' archived at SugarQuill.net then there is something siriusly wrong with you. Go. Read. Now. (After reading this chapter of FM, of course :-D)

Chapter Eight

I'm tired of being what you want me to be
Feeling so faithless, lost under the surface
I don't know what you expected of me
Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes

I'm not like my Father. I think I've known this from a very young age. When I was small I used to watch him at balls and social functions – everyone adored him. The women would coo and flutter under his silky smooth words and compliments, and Mother always used to turn a blind eye as he seduced a whore or two to hook up with when she was next out of town. I used to wonder why they liked him, when I was very little. I didn't understand – I'd seen him at home with me and my Mother, I knew what he was like, and then to see him put on this mask when we were in front of other people... I soon learnt, though. I learnt about the two sides to my Father's personality. I learnt about it, and I learnt from it. It's impossible to behave the way my Father expects me to without putting on some kind of mask – just like him. Except, my mask is different.

My Father's mask is one of charm and grace. Mine is one of hate and spite. Our cores are different, but he won't see that, he won't ever see that – I'm tired of being what he wants me to be.

Every step that I take is another mistake to you
I've become so numb
I can feel you there
I've become so tired
So much more aware
I'm becoming this, all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you

He won't let me be myself. I won't let me be myself. Sometimes I scorn myself for being so weak as to let him walk all over me, dictate everything I need to do, say, feel. There's always that knowledge, though, that settles at the bottom of my stomach like a rock, that I have no choice in the matter. I've had to make myself numb to his commands – it's the only way I can get through this. And the worst part? I don't know when it'll ever end. If it'll ever end. I'm scared about what would happen to me if I ever disobeyed him. Sometimes, especially when I was younger, I think he's going to kill me when he gets violent. Especially when he's been drinking. I lay there, shivering, tensing for the next blow, and the pain is so intense I actually think I'm going to die. Walking towards Snape's office, preparing for my punishment, I contemplate the extent of the damage which is about to be done. It's happened before, countless number of times, but this time I feel a fear so intense that my palms are sweating, my knees are trembling, and I can't focus properly – my vision is blurry, but I've done the walk from my dorm to Snape's office enough times that I don't need perfect vision to get there. I've never done anything this bad before. The people you mix with are so, so important to him, and I've just gone ahead and started seeing a Lovegood. Father can't stand the Quibbler, let alone her crackpot of a father.

As I enter the room, Snape immediately stands up and leaves, without even meeting my gaze. I'm not sure if this is a good or a bad thing. I hold my breath and stare at the floor, waiting for my father to speak first.

"Draco."

"Good evening, Father."

He's been drinking. I know from the smell in the room and the empty Firewhisky glasses on Snape's desk.

"Do you know why you're here, Draco?"

Do I lie or tell the truth? A fleeting thought that I could just deny the whole thing rushes through my head, but that'd probably just anger him more – my father is many things, but stupid is not one of them.

"I'm not sure," I eventually stutter.

"You are here, boy, because once again you have disappointed me."

And there's the magic, all-too-familiar words.

Can't you see that you're smothering me?
Holding too tightly, afraid to loose control
Cos everything that you thought I would be
Has fallen apart right in front of you

I don't know what to say, so I say nothing. I feel stupid now, and belittled. He always manages to do that to me. I can feel a hot blush rising up from my neck and settling uncomfortably on my cheeks.

"I received a very interesting owl last night," he went on, pronouncing each and every syllable with a forced tone of calm. "It had details of your latest love interest."

I still remain silent, so scared of saying the wrong thing. My heart is racing now, and I can only just hear him speak over the pounding of blood in my ears.

"Is Miss Parkinson not good enough for you anymore, Draco? Is your parents choice for you now second best?"

"No, it's not that – " I begin, but he silences me with a backhanded slap across my face. I'm stunned slightly because I wasn't expecting it at that second, but I quickly recover and vow not to say another word.

"Pansy Parkinson is ideal for you, Draco. She is wealthy, beautiful, and her parents second in their ranking on the social ladder only to us. If Theo Parkinson finds out that you've been taking his daughter for a ride then he will cancel your arranged marriage and no one will take you, Draco. You will be disowned from the Malfoy name, and you'll have to spend your time working like a common Muggle to earn your living, and no one else will want you. You're very lucky Pansy's parents have agreed to let their daughter marry an imbecile like you."

"I haven't been taking Pansy for a ride," I snarl, not able to help myself, not wanting to be accused of cheating Pansy.

"And what do you mean by that?" Father's face is close to mine now – so close I can smell the alcohol on his breath and see the tiny bloodshot veins in his eyes. I look him square in the face.

"Pansy doesn't want this arranged marriage anymore than I do."

Shit. That was risky. My father's fist makes contact with my jaw and the pain paralyses me for a second, I just stand, bent over and clutching my cheek in silent agony. My father laughs.

"Don't be an idiot," he spits. "Of course she wants it. Who wouldn't want to marry the son of Lucius Malfoy?"

To this I almost laugh. "You're nothing special, Father," I say bitterly. "You have money, that's all, money and –"

I don't get to finish my sentence because I'm knocked to the floor by a kick to my shins. I hardly care though, insulting my father felt good, the pain is almost worth it. Almost.

"LUNA LOVEGOOD!"

I was wondering when her name would come up.

"HOW COULD YOU? DO YOU KNOW WHO HER FATHER IS?"

"Don't you talk to me about fathers," I croak, earning myself a kick in the groin. I curl up on the floor, my eyes squeezed so tightly shut they begin to ache. Hot, angry pains seers through my abdomen and for a couple of minutes I can barely even breathe.

"I will NOT have this cheek from you, Draco," Father sneers, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking me up by it so hard my neck jars. "Why are you with that pathetic excuse for a witch? Are you purposely trying to soil the Malfoy name?"

"You want to know why I'm with her? I'll tell you, Father. I am with that pathetic excuse for a witch because she understands. Because she knows what it's like to be me. Because she cares about my feelings. Because she's gentle, sweet, kind and thoughtful, and because I love her."

I love her. The words echo around and around in my brain until they start to make sense, because I realise at that second that I do love Luna. I've never seen my father look as mad as this. He's quivering with anger, and draws out his wand. I begin breathing so fast that the world starts to spin around me and I can't think let alone see straight.

"CRUCIO!"

I've never had Crucio performed on me before. The force of the spell hits me like a tonne of bricks and I fall to the floor. The pain is indescribable – every single nerve ending inside me screams out with pure, intense agony, and the pain is hot and searing. It's so insufferable I begin to feel sick and nauseous, feeling at that second that I would do anything to make it stop.

"Please, Father, please, STOP!" I cry, in between sobs of pain, writhing on the floor in a pathetic heap at my father's feet. When it finally dies away I feel like I have been on some kind of stretching rack – every part of me is aching, dull and throbbing.

"Say you will continue this no longer," he demands, his wand still aimed at me with a trembling hand. I say nothing. "Did you enjoy that spell, Draco?" he hisses. "Because I can do it again, you know."

"I will continue this no longer."

My voice trembles and I pray to Merlin that he won't sense that it's a lie.

"Get up," he barks. I obey quickly, limping to my feet, my arms hugged around me. He draws his face close to mine, and positions his lips millimetres from my ear. "Just remember that you are nothing. You are scum, Draco Malfoy. Nobody likes you for the person you are, but for your family name. Malfoy is the only thing that gets you anywhere. You're an appalling flyer, your grades are not better than a common Mudblood, and you're a fucking idiot. If you disappoint me once more and I decide to disown you, that's it."

I dread to even think what 'it' means. Just as I think it's all over and he puts his wand back in his staff, he cracks it over my cheek. The long, pointed fangs pierce my face, and as he drags it down I feel the skin ripping, a searing hot pain coursing through me. I put my hand up to my cheek and it immediately becomes soaked in blood as my father disappears out of the door.

And I know I may end up failing too
But I know you were just like me
With someone disappointed in you

When Snape comes back into his office about five minutes later I am still sobbing, half in pain and half in panic as I try desperately to stop the blood flow. Every part of me hurts, and there is an array of blood soaked tissues strewn on the floor.

"Come here," Snape says, his tone half concerned and half irritated. Drawing out his wand he mutters, "sanguis desinere," and I feel the blood immediately stop. When he says "sanare vulnus" and runs his wand over the wound I can feel the skin healing, painfully stretching to cover the gash.

"Why do you let him do it?" I whisper, tears still flowing freely down my cheeks. It's something I ask him every time, but he always manages to avoid the question somehow.

"What your father does to you is none of my business," he answers curtly.

"It is!" I protest shrilly. "It is! You're my Head of House!"

Snape turns and picks up a vile. "Drink this, as usual."

I snatch the vile angrily and hobble out of the room, feeling energyless and lethargic, not even caring if Snape thinks me rude or ungrateful. Merlin knows how I'll sleep with every limb pounding in pain like this.

It's going to be a long night.