Welcome to Gaia! ::

The Prologue

"I have already told you, I do not know the Dark Lord's plans for..."

"And yet you were there, obviously trying to steal a prophecy from the shelves, a prophecy which could only have been touched by either You-Know-Who himself, or Mr. Potter."

Lucius Malfoy's grey eyes narrowed, "Do you honestly think the Dark Lord a fool to confide his most secret of desires in me, or in any of his followers for that matter?"

"On the contrary, Mr. Malfoy, both a Mr. Crabbe and a Mr. Goyle have both stated that the prophecy was of up-most importance to You-Know-Who and that he had given you and your comrades implicit instructions to have it returned to him." But before Lucius could reply, Cornelius Fudge held up his hand, "And furthermore, we have the word of McNair that you personally were to lead the engagement, you and your wife's sister, Bellatrix LeStrange, whom we have failed to apprehend."

The blond wizard rolled his eyes slightly, "If I had any notion as to the Dark Lord's plans for it, I would tell you now and save us all this ridiculous banter. However, I do not know his plans and I dare not try and make them up. I will tell you however that we were told specifically NOT to allow the prophecy to break. However, due to the intrusion of members of Dumbledore's inner sanctum, the prophecy was destroyed and now none know its contents, including myself and certainly including the Dark Lord."

It was no good acting as if he wasn't a Death Eater. Lucius Malfoy had already been convicted of those charges, and his past excuse of being under the Imperius Cruse would never have held strong. However, there was still that one chance, that one ray of hope, that somehow, through quick thinking and an even quicker tongue, he could talk his way to an early release.

Percy Weasley, who oddly enough appeared to be enjoying himself as he watched Malfoy's questioning, handed Fudge a piece of parchment. After looking over the notes, the Minister of Magic nodded and returned his attention to the prisoner.

Sitting in the middle of a sunken room, Lucius was magically bound to a rather uncomfortable chair by chains which had snaked about over his arms, legs, and chest. He was forced to look directly ahead, for not only was that the place where his judges sat, but because, for some reason he could not yet figure out, his peripheral vision had been completely blacked out. Still clad however in his dark robes, for he had only been imprisoned for a short time, the man looked just as regal and dignified as he usually did. Lucius' hair was combed out, though he had had to do this with naught but his fingers. The only mark upon him was a rather nasty bruise, given to him by Harry Potter of all people, in the middle of his ribcage on the left side of his chest. The people in this room however, knew nothing of his sustained injuries when dealing with Potter and his tag along friends.

"Now, onto this other business regarding the charges of you as a Death Eater. Is it true that you used the Imperius curse on two members of the Ministy of Magic?"

Lucius frowned, "Absolutely not. I..."

"Then what were you doing this entire time at the Minsity, Mr. Malfoy?" a woman's voice called out.

He could hardly distinguish her, for the woman sat just where his vision became blackened, "I was donating to certain charities, even Cornelius can vouch for that."

"Well I..." Fudge looked a bit flustered at this comment but he continued nevertheless. "I can vouch for that, though what you did on your way up to my office has yet to be determined."

Lucius smiled slightly, "If you had not actually noticed, Cornelius, it does take me a bit longer to walk down hallways these days, than it does you."

"And why is that?" asked another wizard, one whom Lucius, also, could not see.

"Why on earth do you think I have a cane?" Malfoy replied in irritation, "One of my knees was shattered in my youth and even magic has not repaired it fully. Without the cane, walking hurts far more than you could realize. Thus, I have to actually think about my steps as I take them, even when I have my cane present, to prevent any painful flare ups. Why do you think I requested a replacement cane, since obviously you will not return me my original."

"Which, as we have been over, is due to the fact that your cane also doubled as a place to conceal your wand, Lucius." Fudge said with a sigh. "In any case, until we have further proof, we can not convict you of using the Imperius Curse as of now. However, that does not dispell the fact that you have been convicted as a member of You-Know-Who's inner circle or that, as a Death Eater, you have broken into the Ministry of Magic and attempted to steal a priceless artifact, the prophecy you so readily sought, and injured many in an attempt to get away with your plans."

"Injured, but never killed." Lucius added. "It was Bellatrix who did most of the killing, as in the case of her own cousin."

"Yes well, Sirius Black's death was no real loss, though I regret to say that he may have been right on a thing or two." Fudge replied before straightening the parchments before him. "You will be sent back to Azkaban Prison until such a time that we can either come up with new evidence to present, or your sentence is up." The Minister of Magic smirked, a look which drew an obvious glare from Malfoy. "I think you'll be with us a while, Lucius. Do get comfortable."

To Be Continued...

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Chapter 2:

June 27th, 1995

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Present Day

“Honestly, Draco, is this all that bad?”

The boy frowned, “I don’t like knowing these things without father telling me I can.”

“But he left it for you.” Narcissa argued as the two sat down to a morning breakfast. “In fact, we received an owl this morning from your father. Apparently they allowed him to write, though not without reading the letter I would expect.”

“Really!” Draco’s grey eyes, eyes so like his father’s, lit up at the thought. “May I read it?”

With a smile, Narcissa handed her son a plain piece of parchment, folded three times. Draco tore into it before he could think, unfolding the letter and hastily glancing over it. The writing was indeed his father’s spidery script.

Dear Narcissa & Draco,

I do hope you are both doing well in my absence. It is most unfortunate, the events which lead to my imprisonment, yet I know that you are both handling things without me as well as can be expected.

Narcissa, I do hope that you have been carrying on with your day to day routine. I would not want you to dwell on circumstances too much.

Draco, I regret that I was not able to welcome you home, or to celebrate your birthday this year. However, I do hope that you find that which I left for you most entertaining. Keep in mind however, Draco, that I wish you to learn from this gift.

Mind your mother, Draco, and try not to cause too much trouble until I return.

My love to you both,

Lucius Malfoy

“So then, he really does want me to watch the memories?” Draco asked, looking over to his mother as he set the letter down on the table.

Narcissa nodded as she sipped at her tea. “I told you.”

The boy sighed, “It’s such a waste of…”

“Your time? Hardly, Draco.” His mother’s face grew grave and serious. “If you do not do this, then I shall tell your father,” she held up a hand to keep her son from interrupting. “And I will personally see to it that all of your birthday presents are sent back.”

“You wouldn’t!” Draco exclaimed, standing from the table.

However, his mother’s blue eyes were not joking.

Fuming and angry, the boy sat down again. “Fine, but I won’t learn anything from it. Both you and father are wasting your time.”

Narcissa shrugged, “Go upstairs to your father’s study and tap the pensieve with your wand. When you have finished, I’ll be in the living room. I want you to tell me what you have seen, so I can make sure you are abiding by your father’s wishes.”

Minutes later, after storming out of the dinning room, Draco found himself once more in his father’s study. Again he felt himself falling through the swirling mass within the pensieve.


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June 27th, 1995

“Did I EVER give you permission to use it!”

“No, my lord. You gave the diary to me for safekeeping and…”

Voldemort’s red eyes blazed, “And you allowed Harry Potter to destroy it!”

“No. No, my lord, the diary is safe. It resides at my manor. I…”

“IT IS OF NO USE TO ME!” Voldemort’s voice cried, his wand clutched dangerously within his thin white fingers.

Lucius Malfoy knelt before him, his head bowed. The Death Eaters mask which had hidden his face had been cast away by the Dark Lord, as had the wizard’s hood. Lucius’ face remained impassive, though he tried desperately to think of some way to appease his lord.

“Not only did you fail to seek me out, Lucius, but you allowed one of my most precious items to be destroyed!” Voldemort was standing just before Malfoy, his arm at a nearly impossible angle and his wand tip pressing into the back of the man’s neck. “You have failed me, Lucius… twice now.”

“I have tried, my lord. I have not remained idle in your absence. I…”

“YOU HAVE FAILED ME!”

The room vibrated with the intense power of the wizard’s voice.

Lucius could hear the swish of Voldemort’s robes as he shifted his stance, preparing to exact the punishment that he had known was coming all night.

“Crucio!” the Dark Lord whispered dangerously, light emitting from his wand tip and striking Malfoy.

The man collapsed, falling forward onto his hands and knees. Daggers of white hot lighting coursed through his veins, every muscle and every nerve, aflame. It felt as if he were being slowly skinned alive, the flesh being stripped horribly from his bones. Lucius fought against his every instinct to scream in pain, clamping his mouth shut so tightly that he bit a hole through his lip. Blood filled the man’s mouth, adding to the great pain which his master had put upon him.

‘Forgive me, my lord! Forgive my failure!’ Lucius’ mind screamed as the curse continued, never ceasing in it’s horrible power.

It was almost as if the Crucio curse were some sort of poison, coursing through the man’s body and leaving pain, death, and destruction in its wake. He could feel it spreading, growing hotter and hotter the longer it was allowed its twisted life. Lucius’ muscles and limbs began to twitch of their own accord as he found himself lying on the cold stone floor. Blood from the cut in his lip flowed down his throat as the man allowed a silent scream to escape him, his body writhing in agony.

‘Forgive me!’

His bones felt so hot that he was sure they would burst, or at the very least shatter. Lucius could hardly remember where he was, save that in his mind he continually saw the Dark Lord sneering down at him in glee.

Voldemort loved his moments of vengeance when it came to those who had failed his great designs.

“Crucia.” Came a soft whisper of content.

Lucius felt himself fall backwards, his body laying stiff and unmoving on the floor. Eyes closed, he struggled to return his breathing to normal. He could feel his lungs, a slight wheeze evident as he drew in each and every breath.

“I do hope this has taught you a lesson, Lucius. A lesson TO YOU ALL!” Voldemort was speaking now as Malfoy opened his grey eyes upon the scene.

Each and every Death Eater in the room had fallen to their knees in reverence.

“This is the price for failure. The price for betrayal however… is death.” The Dark Lord glanced to Lucius, “A most painful and agonizing death that will make the pits of hell cringe in fear of my power!”

Malfoy pulled his body up off the ground, kneeling once more before Voldemort. He tried to keep the shudder from his body, but his muscles continued to spasm uncontrollably. Pain shot through his right knee, pain that had been his punishment for failing the Dark Lord long ago. Lucius struggled to keep himself on his knees, the pain nearly as bad as Voldemort’s Crucio curse.

“Learn from Lucius Malfoy’s mistakes, for next time, I shall not be so lenient.”

And, as Lucius looked up into the face of Voldemort, the memory faded…

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Present Day

The chair was cold, for none had sat in it for weeks now. Draco found himself in his father’s chair in his study. The boy’s blond head was tilted back, starring up at the banner of the House of Slytherin which adorned the wall directly behind his father’s chair.

“But he told me he didn’t fail…” Draco found himself whispering in disbelief and shock.

“He told you what you wanted to hear.”

The boy turned in his father’s chair, seeing Narcissa in the doorway. “Father told me that Voldemort was a compassionate and understanding master for those who served him well!” Draco shouted angrily, standing to his feet almost at once.

Narcissa smiled sadly, “He told you this, so you would not fear your servitude. You are your father’s son, Draco… You will one day be at the Dark Lord’s beck and call, just as your father was.”

Angry at both what he had seen, and this revelation about all he had thought once true, Draco turned from his mother to stare at the Slytherin banner once more. “Then… then why… Father lied to me!” the boy turned, his grey eyes torn between shedding tears of anger and sadness or simply glaring at his mother. “HE LIED!”

Narcissa shook her head slightly, “He lied to protect you, Draco. You have no idea how proud of you your father is. How much he cares. But perhaps you will understand tomorrow.”

“Why tomorrow?” Draco snapped angrily.

“Because I think tomorrow would be a good time for a memory which came from, not only your father, but myself as well.”

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Chapter 4:

Present Day, Part I

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Present Day - Azkaban Prison

I am tired.

I find myself starring at the cold grey walls, so thick with grime one could hardly tell they were not black. The cold seeps up through the concrete floors, making the bars and the supports of the little cot I sit on unbearably frigid. There is no window. No light but the artificial globe, that blazes high above my head and continues to burn brightly, even though I have seen neither hide nor hair of guard in what seems like hours.

I sit, stripped of all my wearable worldly possessions. I can only imagine who had this filthy shirt... this pair of disgusting pants... before me. My robes are gone, my wand most likely shattered or locked away in some hidden vault deep within the confines of the Ministry of Magic. My dragon hide boots, so fashionable amongst society, have been taken and replaced by shoes fit for some Muggle ditch digger. They have even taken my gloves and any jewelry I possessed. They probably think it enchanted in some manner.

Pure wizarding blood means nothing in this place.

It only gives the guards a reason to mock and jeer.

Platinum blond hair falling in my face, I sigh in disgust at the loathsome position which I am now forced to keep. No longer the head of a once noble, feared, and respected house. I am made to suffer the inhumanities that Azkaban has to offer.

My first week here, I feared I would starve to death, not to mention my loathing of the accommodations. 'I am a Malfoy!' I had said, as if it meant something to those horrid guards who walk past my cell at all times of the day. 'I demand to be treated with respect!' I cried... but my only response had been a laugh and the thought that I had thrown away any respect my family had earned when I had failed the Dark Lord.

Do I dare tell these simpletons my reasons for joining Voldemort's schemes?

Do I divulge my heart, my own weaknesses of spirit and of character, in an attempt to save myself?

No.

Voldemort has many spies. If they caught wind of my betrayal, then my family would be dead before I even saw the light of day.

The Dark Lord has no mercy. Not even for the innocent lives of my wife and son.

I must place my hope in escape, in the thought that perhaps Voldemort will send more of his followers to free those who tried, and ultimately failed.

A few days ago I had written a letter to both Narcissa and Draco. In all truth, I had wanted to tell them more, and yet I feared what would be thought of the letter if read by the Ministry. They did not know I owned a pensieve, nor that I had collected my memories within. Surely if they found out, the house would be raided and soon enough turned upside down in the search. To find such a wealth of memories dealing with Voldemort? one could only imagine how happy that would make the Minister.

So, I had been reduced to hinting at my wishes, praying that Draco would heed my words and take it upon himself to watch my most guarded memories. I want him to learn from my mistakes, for I fear he will soon be called upon, in these dark and evil times, to take my place. How I wish I could stop him, to tell my son that if he allies himself fully with the Dark Lord, that I fear death will be his end. Voldemort is sorely angered by my failures, both with his diary and now this prophecy. He will, no doubt, take his anger out on Draco if the boy succumbs to his wishes.

Oh, Draco... How I wished to protect you from all of this. To protect you from the truth and from the lies. You are my son, my only son, and I fear I will never see you whole again. For, if the Dark Lord pulls you into his fold...

I tell myself not to dwell on such dark thoughts in this dismal place. Soon, my family would be allowed to visit me and, perhaps then, I do hope, I can share these most disturbing of notions with them.

Until that time, I simply sit, content to watch the world pass me by from my cold, damp prison cell.

I have made my mistakes... and now I am paying for them.

I have no choice.


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Present Day - Malfoy Manor

"Mother, are we going to visit father soon?" Draco asked, looking up from the book he was reading.

The boy was sitting comfortably on the couch, his feet propped up, shoes laying on the ground beside him. He had been reading, 'Quidditch Seeker Tips', in hopes that it would aid him in his next school year. Draco had yet to catch the Snitch during a single game against Gryffindor. He vowed to change that losing streak.

"Next week." Narcissa replied from her chair near the fireplace. "The Ministry will not allow us to visit until then."

Draco sighed, "Ridiculous." He spat, sitting up and throwing the book down beside him in anger. "They're not going to let father go, so what is the harm in us seeing him?"

"They are just following procedure, Draco. Besides, I would rather your father be given the time to adapt to his surroundings before letting you see him."

"Letting me see him?" the boy asked, "Why's that? Afraid he'll be too angry. Might say something he doesn't mean?"

But Narcissa's eyes, as she looked up at Draco, were cold and serious. "Your father has been under a lot of stress lately, but you have been too busy at school to notice. He is safe where he is, and he knows it, and I will not have you going on about this when you know perfectly well there is nothing I can do to change the situation. Your father is in Azkaban, Draco, and like it or not that is where he will remain."

"But wouldn't Voldemort not..."

"No, he wouldn't!" Narcissa shouted angrily, "Your father failed, Draco, twice! It's a wonder he isn't dead right now! So be happy that he is alive, even if it is in that god forsaken place they call a prison!"

That, seemed to shut the boy's mouth. Draco lay back against the sofa once more, his mind whirling with what his mother had said.

'If father did fail, and if the price of failure is death as mother seems to think... then maybe this isn't so bad. I could... I could redeem the family name, I know I could! Besides, when Voldemort comes to supreme power, then maybe, if I helped, father would not be looked upon as a failure. I could save him. I could save us all.'

And with those thoughts, Draco returned to his Quidditch book, content to read and put such dark ideas out of his mind until another day.


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To Be Continued...

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Chapter 6:

May 3rd, 1984

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May 3rd, 1984

There was a sudden gust of wind, accompanied by the laughter of a child. The boy’s eyes were closed, his arms outstretched as if he were flying freely through the air.

In fact, the child was flying.

Strong arms held the boy, making certain that he would not fall as they raced across the skies.

“Again!” the boy shouted.

Those same hands held the child tighter before both dove down toward the ground.

It was a warm spring day, the sun shinning brightly over the hillocks of Wiltshire. The absolute perfect day for flying.

The boy cried out in glee as he and his father flew over their manor and back up, high into the sky.

“Surely that is enough for today, Draco?”

The boy’s blue-grey eyes wandered up to lock with those of his father. “But… it’s so fun…”

Lucius Malfoy smiled, “Draco, it is nearly lunch time.”

“Just once more, father?” The boy begged. “Please?”

“How can I say no to that, hmm?” Lucius replied, concentrating once more on the broom beneath him.

Both father and son were high above the grounds of Malfoy Manor. They looked down upon the countryside, the elder Malfoy glad that there were no meddling Muggles anywhere near their secluded home. Seated comfortably atop his broom, Lucius held his four year old son Draco in his arms.

“Can I fly the broom this time, father?” the boy asked, giving his father another look which anyone would have a hard time saying no to.

Lucius shook his head however, “No, Draco, not until you’ve been properly trained.”

“When will that be?” Draco asked, greatly confused. “Can you teach me how tomorrow?”

His father laughed, “You will learn during your first year at Hogwarts, Draco. You’re only four years old, son, you have to wait until you’re eleven.”

“DRACO! LUCIUS!” came a voice from far below.

The boy looked down, “Mother!”

Draco waved to the woman on the ground, causing his father to hold him even tighter.

“Careful not to fall, Draco.” Lucius admonished.

From the ground, Narcissa Malfoy smiled, “It’s time for lunch!”

Draco immediately frowned, “Don’t want lunch…” he pouted, but before the boy could say much more, he found himself diving down toward his mother.

Confused, Draco turned, seeing his father high above, still seated on his broom, an obvious look of shock on the elder Malfoy’s face. It had barely begun to register in Draco’s mind that he was falling, when he landed gently in his mother’s arms.

“Draco!” Lucius shouted, the man leaping from the broom which now hovered just above the ground. Blond hair, pulled back by a silk tie, trailed behind him as the wizard rushed to his wife’s side.

“Did you see that, father?” Draco asked, obviously ecstatic. “I flew! All by myself, I flew!”

Confused, Lucius stared at his son in disbelief for a long moment. The smile however, on his wife’s face, drew the man’s attention to the wand which Narcissa held in one hand.

The elder Malfoy sighed in relief. “Yes, Draco, you flew… but please, do not do that without either myself or your mother present. Alright?”

“Yeah… oh! Mother, what’s for lunch?” Draco asked, the prospect of a good meal gaining the boy’s attention.

The woman laughed, “I believe that we need to work on the boy’s attention span…” she said, smiling to her husband.

“Indeed…” Lucius replied.

Blue-grey eyes locked onto the gazes of his parents however, “Lunch?” Draco asked, now realizing how hungry he was.

“Of course, little one.” Narcissa replied, walking toward the Manor with the boy in tow.

Lucius turned to follow before remembering the broom. He went back to retrieve it, his wand out and ready to call the broom to his hand, when suddenly the man was nearly knocked over from behind. A tug on his pant leg brought the wizard’s grey eyes down, only to find the tiny form of Draco, clinging to his leg.

“Thank you, father.” Draco whispered, a smile on his small face, before running after his mother and into the house.

Lucius watched the boy go, his own smile mirroring that of his son’s, before looking to the broom once more, “Accio, broom.” He ordered, the object flying into his waiting hand.

The smile still on his face, Lucius turned and headed into the Manor for lunch.
“What are you thinking, Lucius?” Narcissa asked as she sat down on the edge of the bed.

Her husband turned, looking up at her from where he lay, “Today.”

“Oh, do not tell me my levitation spell frightened you that much.” The woman replied, laying down next to him. “I had thought Draco would think it fun to fly on his own.”

“Yes, but you made me believe he had fallen.” Lucius said, taking one of his wife’s hands in his own. “It honestly frightened me more than I care to admit, Narcissa.”

She smiled, moving as close to Lucius as she could, “Then perhaps he should not be flying at such a young age?”

Lucius shook his head, “No… I want him to know how to fly before he goes to Hogwarts. Draco as the potential to be one of the best wizards of his age… I want him to have an advantage over the other students.”

“Perhaps you expect too much of him, Lucius?” Narcissa replied as she closed her eyes.

The wizard was silent for a long moment, “He is our son, a Malfoy. Of Draco, I shall only expect the very best. He deserves the best, after all.” Taking his wand from the bedside table, Lucius pointed it at the lamp, extinguishing the light.

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Present Day

“Why is it that I can’t remember that myself?”

“Perhaps because it was a strong memory for your father.” came Narcissa’s voice from the doorway.

Draco turned, frowning at his mother. “So what? He took me flying when I was little and I…”

“He also taught you to fly before your first year at school, which went against the rules for underage magic, if you recall.” Narcissa made her way into her husband’s study. “Honestly, Draco… you act as if such a happy memory were a bad thing.”

The young man turned away, his eyes on the Slytherin banner behind his father’s desk. “Just because I don’t want to dwell on happy memories at the moment does not mean it’s a bad thing.” Draco replied, his arms crossed over his chest.

Narcissa smiled slightly, “Ah… so we get to the heart of the matter.” She spoke, turning the chair around so Draco faced her once more. “Son… These are dark times, of that I agree, and until the Dark Lord’s plans have been fulfilled, times will continue to be dark. I simply ask that you take comfort in the memories of the past, Draco. That you learn from them.” She sighed, “Your father would wish the same.”

Draco was silent for a long time, and it was obvious that the boy was brooding. “I’m watching the memories, aren’t I?”

“Yes, you are… but I fear you are not taking them to heart.”

The young lad stood suddenly, violently pushing the chair away, “DO NOT TREAT ME AS IF I WERE A CHILD, MOTHER!” Draco shouted, angrily storming out of the study. He stopped however, and the doorway, turning back to face Narcissa. “Father’s gone. He’s not going to get out of Azkaban, ever! Why the bloody hell does it matter what I learn? He made mistakes, and no doubt, no matter what I do, I shall make my own as well!”

Once Draco was gone, Narcissa sighed, looking to the family portrait on her husband’s desk. “Oh, Lucius…” she whispered, “I fear this world will be nothing but pain for Draco… I fear our son may have made the wrong choice...”


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Chapter 8:

October 29th, 1979

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October 29th, 1979

“You have to!”

Dark eyes glared back at the elder blond, black hair falling into his face. “I don’t have to do anything, Lucius. I’m out. I’m leaving. To hell with what Voldemort would want!”

Stepping forward, Lucius Malfoy grasped the younger man by his shirt collar, pulling him close. “If you leave, he’ll kill you. What the bloody hell do you think I’m doing here?”

For once, Regulus Black didn’t know what to say. He stared into Malfoy’s gray eyes, trying to understand just what he was meaning. It wasn’t possible, was it?

“Why… why would Voldemort kill me for deciding not to join?”

Lucius shook his head, “You just don’t get it….. You made a decision, Regulus. We both did. And like it or not we can’t back out now. Besides, what would your family think? Sirius was already a disappointment.”

“I’m not doing it, Lucius.” Black replied, his hand grasping the other man’s wrist. “I can’t do it. What Voldemort wants…” he shook his head. “What Voldemort wants is insane. Yes, bringing magic back to the purebloods if a noble cause, a cause I would fight for… but not like this…”

Malfoy smirked, “And how else did you propose to fight, Regulus?”

“Killing Muggles isn’t the answer!” he shouted angrily. “That’ll get us nowhere, except into a cell in Azkaban!”

“Better that then be overrun by Muggles and Mudbloods.” Malfoy replied stoically.

From within the folds of his black robe, Lucius produced an equally black wand.

Regulus paled slightly, “You can’t honestly consider killing me.”

“Voldemort ordered it. If I don’t kill you….” His wand wavered, as did the grip Malfoy had on his fellow Death Eater’s shirt collar. “If I don’t…”

Black saw the indecision plainly in Lucius’ gray gaze. It was almost as if the older man’s soul was bared to him in that instant.

“Narcissa?”

Lucius nodded. “I won’t loose her, Regulus. I can’t lose her.”

“So that’s it then?” Regulus asked, moving a hand up to untangle Malfoy’s hand from his collar. “You kill me to save your family… all in the name of some grand design of the Dark Lord’s?”
Angry, Lucius released the younger man, moving away a few steps. “What do you expect me to do?” the blond wizard demanded. “Narcissa’s pregnant, Regulus! If I fail… if I fail then I’ll be condemning not only my wife, but my unborn son as well. Not even you can…”

“You’re like a brother to me, Lucius!” Regulus shouted, “And now you’ll kill me for HIM?! I trusted you, Lucius…”

Sighing, Malfoy pinched the bridge of his nose. His pale gray eyes closed as the man leaned against the wall.

“I would rather…”
“I’ll leave.” Regulus replied, his hands out to his sides in a gesture of appeal. “I’ll leave and hide amongst the Muggles.”

Lucius laughed, “Lord Voldemort won’t believe me unless…”

Thrusting out one arm, Regulus pulled up his sleeve. There, on the man’s pale arm, was the black tattoo of a Death Eater. “Unless you have proof. Take this.”
“Skin your arm?” Malfoy replied, one eyebrow arching delicately in question. “But if I do that, you’ll not know if he nears.”
“Does it matter?” with a sigh, Black shook his head. “He’ll know I’m alive as long as this tattoo remains. Take it for your proof.”

“Regulus…”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Black pointed the tip of his own wand at the skin. There was a flash of purple light, a cry ripping from Regulus’ throat as the reddened skin ripped from his arm and floated to the ground.

Reaching out, Lucius steadied the younger man, “That was foolish, Regulus.”
“But necessary.” Black whispered in pain as he staggered to lean against the wall.

Kneeling, Malfoy took up the severed tattoo covered skin, placing it in the folds of his robes. “Do you know where you’ll go?”

Regulus shook his head. “Not yet. Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you, Lucius. The Dark Lord is a skilled Legilimens. If he found out…”

“Then you’re on your own.” Lucius replied, looking at his wand for a moment. “Severus will not believe you dead if this room doesn’t flash green, you know.”

Nodding, Regulus turned and walked the length of the small cabin. “I can hide here.” He spoke, opening up a floor panel. “Once you and Severus are gone…”
“You’ll head to London I expect.” Lucius whispered. “Regulus, get as far away from Britain as you can. American maybe… Japan… Somewhere where Voldemort will never think to look.”

Smiling, Black sat on the edge of the floor, his feet dangling over the side of the hole in the floor. “Don’t worry about me.” He replied. “You’ll have your own troubles soon enough.”

And with that, Regulus jumped into the hole and replaced the floorboard over his head. A slight sigh left Malfoy as he pointed his wand at the fireplace, knowing full well that the green flash of magic would be seen from outside due to the chimney.

“AVADA KADAVRA!”


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Present Day

“No wonder Lord Voldemort hates father.” Draco whispered.

The boy was sitting on the window seat in his room, watching as rain pelted the glass. A heavy storm was rolling through the countryside, but he hardly cared.

It only helped to show him how truly bleak the world was.

“Lying to the Dark Lord like that…” he whispered, idly tracing pictures on the window. “Why did father have to care?”

“Care about what?”

Head snapping to the doorway, Draco was shocked and amazed to see Pansy Parkinson standing in the threshold. “What’re you doing here?”

The girl smiled, “Your mother invited me over… She said you weren’t feeling well.”

Draco didn’t stand, but simply looked back out the window. “I haven’t felt well in a while.” He whispered as Pansy proceeded into the room.

She stopped when she was behind Malfoy, placing her hands on his shoulders gently as she looked out at the grey sky. “It’s been so rainy lately.”

“Yeah…” Draco whispered, leaning back against her.

Silence stretched between them for a long time, and it wasn’t until curiosity finally got the better of her, that Pansy spoke up.

“Draco…” Parkinson whispered. “What did you mean by ‘why did father have to care’?”

It took Malfoy a few moments to even begin to collect his thoughts. He couldn’t tell her about Voldemort’s plan, about what he was being chosen to do.

“Why should you care?” Draco snapped suddenly, standing and shrugging Pansy’s hands off of his shoulders. “It’s not your problem. Not your worry!”

At first, Pansy appeared a bit taken aback by Malfoy’s quick and heated reaction, but eventually she smirked, placing her hands on her hips and cocking her head to the side. “Fine then, Malfoy. Keep it all inside. You’re mother invited me… I guess you don’t need cheering up after all.”

Turning on her heel, Parkinson quickly walked from the room, her skirt billowing in her wake. As she slammed the door, Draco found himself leaning against the wall.

His pale features contorted into an expression of utter rage. Without even thinking of the consequences, Malfoy spun, slamming his fist into the wall.

Blood caked his knuckles, plaster and paint flaking from the wall to land on his pale hand. Enraged tears swam in Draco’s eyes as he slid down the wall.

With knees curled up to his chest, Malfoy cried.


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