As for This Rotting || ABRAXAS

That familiar feeling had sunken into his skin once more, that all-too-familiar feeling that dug into his bones, down to his very core. That feeling tore and consumed, haunted and pervaded. Lucius awoke in the middle of the night sweating and gasping because of that feeling. It was the feeling he felt every time he was faced with the monster that was his father. He'd felt it the moment he left his mother's womb and was held in his father's arms for the first time. He felt it that morning on the hill when his father kicked him as hard as he could. He felt it in his cold, distant letters. In his hard gaze. In his touch. It was a feeling only Abraxas Malfoy could inspire, and Lucius felt it now, ever stronger, as he sat at the Slytherin table, lump in his throat, every muscle in his body tense. Things had always been this way, and Lucius doubted it would ever change.

While Lucius had made himself the resident hobo of Hogwarts with his unkempt hair, wrinkled clothing, and stubbly jaw as of late, Lucius had actually taken the time to properly groom himself this morning. It went without saying that his father would expect it of him. Couldn't have him soiling the family name, could he? First he'd trimmed his hair, back to its usual cropped style. He'd slicked it back with Muggle gel. Then he'd shaved his beard still nothing but fresh skin was revealed. Lastly, he'd plucked from his closet a white button-down and black slacks. Staring at his reflection in the mirror, he was both startled and disturbed to see a semblance of his old self looking back at him. Lucius narrowed his cold, grey eyes, feeling a deep, sinking feeling in his chest. Then he'd left the Slytherin common room and proceeded toward the Great Hall where the massacre was beginning.

Biting his lower lip, Lucius willed himself not to scream. It could barely be suppressed. Merlin's beard, who's not-so-brilliant idea was this, anyway? Clearly it was the idea of someone who'd forgotten what it was like to be a teenager. Or the person was just a sadist. Didn't everyone know that all children hated their parents? It was a biological imperative. Grey gaze flicking across the expanse of the Great Hall, Lucius recognized that look of terror, and loathing, and annoyance on the faces of all his peers. He doubted there was a single student that was actually glad to have their family here. Silently, he prayed that this would all be over soon and quietly. He'd lasted seventeen years under the dominion of his father. Surely he could outlast a weekend. Even still, a part of him was terrified. Shaking. Terrified. Just wanted to crawl under the table seek refuge beneath his shadowy concealment. Like a trembling child.

His father approached him in what seemed like slow-motion. Every step seemed to ricochet across the walls, filling Lucius' head with a loud, nearly intolerable vociferousness. No so good to see you. No I've missed you, son. Just criticism. Inwardly, Lucius flinched, but he made no outward show of his discontent. Instead, he stood immediately at his father's command, bowing his head in sincere apology. “Sir,” he began un-affectionately. Like father like son. “I trust everything is well back home? I'm sorry Mother couldn't make the trip. I'll have to write her a letter sending her my regrets.” That was probably the biggest lie he'd ever told. He was more than relieved that Lilith Malfoy had been detained. The last thing he needed was his twit of a mother badgering him about formal dates, his clothing, his hair, how he was liking school, blah blah blah. One pain in the ass was more than enough for Lucius.

Lucius stood with his hands folded behind his back. Lifting his head, he let his eyes wander across the face of his father. He took in Abraxas' furrowed glare, his thin lips, pale hair, and general aura of disapproval. Lucius bristled. No. Things would never change.