Last Will and Testament

Epilogue: Grave of the Underworld

Pluto laughed, moving his piece to block Lucius’ last move. “Lucius, you simply must try harder. I saw that move twenty minutes ago.”

Lucius scowled, but said nothing.

“Pluto!” a woman called from a few floors above. “I believe there is something Lucius needs to see, darling.”

“Oh, is it that time already?” Pluto asked, looking very interested.

“What does this have to do with me?” Lucius asked, immediately on guard. He hadn’t been in the underworld for long, but already he knew not to trust Pluto farther than he could throw him—which, admittedly, was not far. Pluto was a god, after all, and no doubt weighed more than five men his own size, if not more.

Pluto smirked, his features still shrouded in darkness—as they had been ever since Lucius’ arrival. “Why, Lucius, you’re about to see what happened to your son since your death.”

Lucius’ eyes lit up. Wonderful. It was about time something good happened; he would finally be able to see Draco with Pansy, just as it always should have been. It had been such a relief to find the two growing closer towards the end of the war. At least he would have Pureblooded grandchildren, unlike many of his former peers.

“Come, Lucius,” Pluto said, standing. He walked up the stairs—another thing Lucius disliked about the place, the way they were everywhere, and always going on forever—to the alcove where the woman was standing. Lucius was careful to look away from her. The one time he had looked at her too long, he had nearly gone blind. She was shining brightly with a white light he could not identify.

“Persephone, show him.”

Her name was Persephone, Lucius realized. Of course. She was married to the god of the underworld, Pluto.

Persephone motioned for him to come forward and look into a large basin filled with a silvery liquid. It looked almost like a pensieve, but Lucius doubted it was. He stared at it, waiting for something to happen—and happen it did. Almost immediately, he was pulled into the basin, and he blinked, looking around. He was in Malfoy Manor.

But something was different. Something was very different. He could hear children laughing. His eyes widened. Had that much time passed? Were Pansy and Draco already having children? That was a definite relief, although they couldn’t be keeping them that well in-hand if they were running around, laughing.

A child ran into the room, gasping for breath. “Mummy!” she called.

“Coming, Evelyn,” a voice called back. That did not sound like Pansy. He wasn’t sure who it sounded like, but that was definitely not Pansy.

A woman walked in, brown hair contained in a pony-tail, wearing an exquisitely tailored robe. But wait—he could only think of one person who looked anything remotely like this woman…

He glanced back at the girl, who was around five years old at his nearest estimate.

“Evelyn,” the woman asked, her eyes dancing. “Whatever is the matter?”

“James is chasing me!” she said, crossing her arms indignantly.

Oh, gods, Lucius thought. That was definitely his grandchild. But that would mean…

"Well, where is he?”

“I don’t know,” Evelyn said, her gray eyes troubled.

And then, as if things couldn’t get any worse, Draco walked into the room. If he had looked at the woman and scowled at her, Lucius would have felt considerably better. However, what he did was so shocking, Lucius would have fainted if he were of the fainting type.

“Hermione,” Draco said, smiling—smiling! His own son was smiling at a Mudblood! And then he leaned over and kissed her. Lucius was nearly ready to puke. “I’ve been looking for you. And how are you, Evelyn?” he asked, kneeling down to look his daughter (as this fact was quite obvious by now) in the eye.

“I’m quite well, father,” Evelyn said. “However, James will not stop chasing me.”

“Really?” Draco asked, his eyes widening.

Evelyn nodded, her golden curls bouncing up and down with the ferocity of her movement.

Suddenly, a young boy ran into the room, with black hair and blue eyes. He looked almost the spitting image of—

Dear gods, no.

“Why, James Potter, what do you think you’re doing?”

And only the god and goddess of the underworld heard the mortified screams Lucius now issued forth.

~the end~