Our Fathers

Part One: A Traitor's Heart

"'You've picked the losing side, Potter! I warned you! I told you you ought to choose your company more carefully, remember? When we met on the train, first day of Hogwarts? I told you not to hang around with riffraff like this!' He jerked his head at Ron and Hermione. 'Too late now, Potter! They'll be the first to go, now the Dark Lord's back! Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first!'"

-Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, page 729 (1^st ed., hardcover)

Chapter One - Bloodlines

Never had there been a more terrifying summer for Draco Malfoy. Everything had gone downhill after that first Ministry raid in late July. He'd supposed that the rising of the Dark Lord would bring better times than he'd ever imagined for his family, times as great as any his father had related from the first war: the Minister at the knees of Lord Voldemort, all of his closest followers elevated to high and important positions in all places of society, Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers put in their places, and Harry Potter fearing for his very life.

While the last might be true, the rest was nowhere near what Draco had expected. Far from it, indeed. As the day of his return to Hogwarts grew nearer, things grew more dire behind the grand front of the Malfoy name. Lucius was under suspicion from Voldemort for escaping so easily from incarceration in Azkaban after October of 1981. The Aurors had appeared five times in under a month to conduct searches for illicit goods within Malfoy Manor, though nothing had been found. Each Auror visit caused more suspicion from Voldemort, as each was a chance for Lucius to pass information to the Light. Lucius was under careful watch at the Ministry from both sides, and Narcissa found herself left off the guest list of social events for pureblooded families supporting both sides of the conflict. Indeed, even Draco was feeling the effects of Voldemort's disfavor - Pansy Parkinson, of whom he had become rather fond, had been forbidden to associate with him by her Death Eater father, a man whose 3 years of time served in Azkaban seemed to show Voldemort his loyalty.

And so the tension was thick in the Malfoy home, and rising steadily with every meeting Lucius attended. With every meeting Lucius returned from, shaking with the aftereffects of the Dark Lord's wrath, the situation worsened. And so, late on the night before Draco's trip to Diagon Alley for school supplies and escape from the oppressive confines of his father's house, he knelt outside of the study and peeked through the ancient lock, waiting.

His mother was pacing, biting her lip in agitation as she waited for Lucius to appear. The pacing was never a good sign, usually signifying the coming of a long, loud argument upon the latter's return home. As he watched, Lucius Apparated into place only a few steps from Narcissa and collapsed to the ground, muscles twitching from Cruciatus. Narcissa was at his side in an instant, perfectly manicured hands drawing his head into her lap to protect her husband from harming his skull during the seizure, as he'd done on other nights. Though she started off quietly, the words were easily identifiable by Draco at the keyhole. "Bloody hell, Lucius, what did you do this time? It's the third punishment this week."

"Narcissa, darling," he hissed through clenched teeth, face flashing with remaining pain, "this isn't the time. Get me up onto the divan, and get me quill and parchment. My work isn't done for this evening."

She laughed coldly; standing and letting Lucius' head fall to the stones with an audible thud. He winced. "By Merlin, Lucius, when will it ever be the time?! I'm sick to death of all of this! He's punishing you for being smart enough to escape Azkaban!"

"Not the time -"

"No more games. No more, Lucius! Think about what this is doing to me. What it's doing to your son! Draco has already been abandoned by the Parkinson's girl - if you don't do something to get on the good side of the Dark Lord, he'll lose everything! Enough fence-sitting, though it's all you've ever been truly great at. Make a sodding choice and go with it, even if it's to throw our lot in with Dumbledore and his ridiculous little lot of heroes!"

"Narcissa -" Lucius pushed himself to his feet, swaying on unsteady legs.

She took a step back. "Don't you dare try to tell me that letter you were about to write wouldn't go straight to Severus, and Merlin knows we're aware what side he plays! Please make a choice - not for me, but for Draco!"

Lucius turned and looked toward the door, sending Draco ducking out of the way. "You're right," Lucius said, barely audible from the hallway. "I need to fix things..." There was a long pause, in which Draco couldn't see his parents actions while he hid off to the side. Abruptly, his father spoke once more. "We shouldn't be discussing matters such as these. Merlin only knows who might be listening in... Now get the damned parchment. Lord Voldemort gave me a task, and failure means my death. And possibly yours."

That was enough for Draco. He ducked into a shadow and dashed back to his rooms, fear of losing everything clouding his mind and keeping him from falling asleep. When Lucius Malfoy sounded afraid... it was time to be worried.

Just like any sane 15-year-old male, Draco Malfoy despised shopping with his mother. The stop at Madame Malkin's began a tirade on the "truly deplorable nature" of the owner's stocks. Everything was "too Tudor, out of style for months" or "far too Asian influenced. We are British, not Chinese." Everything at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour was "simply too fattening," which made all of the chocolate shops "quite out of the question." At Quality Quidditch Supplies, Draco was promised the new Cleansweep Ultra if he ever managed to beat "that pathetic Potter boy," though Draco's new Seeker gloves had to be monogrammed in Slytherin green for good luck. And then, finally, the last stop - Flourish and Blotts.

Draco held the door for his mother and obediently followed her inside. He enjoyed reading, though most titles that caught his fancy would not be available in Diagon Alley. Knockturn was much more to his tastes. Thus, he followed his mother straight to the schoolbook display, drawing his Hogwarts letter from his front robe pocket. "Alright, Mother... Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5... Mysteries of Text by Irma Authorne, for Ancient Runes... yes, Mother, that's my Potions text."

If his years with his father hadn't taught him to hone his skills of observation, he might've missed the voices whispering behind him. "Oh, drat - Malfoy. Let's leave before he sees us."

Any opportunity to bait the Gryffindor Brat Pack was something to be cherished. "What's this I smell? Must be a Weasley. Too poor to afford soap?" Draco turned and found himself face to face with all three of them - not like they were ever apart. "Well, if it isn't Mudblood and Potty too! Buying your schoolbooks for you, Weasel?"

"I'm surprised to see you here, Malfoy. Not old enough to play with Daddy in Knockturn Alley yet?" Ouch. And the Mudblood had been practicing her insults.

Ready with a stunning repartee about the size of one's hair being a cover for lack of brainpower - an insult he was particularly looking forward to using on the Mudblood of the bushy hair - Draco was rather annoyed when his mother added to the conversation. "Draco, dear, I haven't been properly introduced to your friends." Though the stress of her sarcasm was evident, Draco was sure his face mirrored the look of disgust and horror on the Weasel's at the mere suggestion of the two ever being friendly.

"I'm sure only one of their names will be of importance. These are three of the Gryffindors from my year. Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, this is my mother, Narcissa Malfoy." Draco gestured and spoke politely, but was sure to settle a menacing gaze on each in turn. Only Potter looked completely unaffected.

His mother peered down at Potter, who was still quite short for his age. Draco was taller by a good several centimeters, though Weasley had sprung up to a towering height. At least it meant his flaming orange hair was less visible for everyone involved. "Harry Potter?" Narcissa asked, sneering. "Surely you jest. He's far too... unimpressive."

The mixed horror, anger, and dismay on the Boy Wonder's face was priceless. Draco couldn't help from grinning in glee. "Yes, mother. In the flesh."

"Mm. What a pity he resembles his father so. His mother was quite the beauty, you know. I always wondered why she wasted her time on a Gryffindor. Draco, have you all your books? We're to meet your father for lunch." Narcissa reached for the pile of books in her son's arms.

Potter seemed to have snapped out of his stupor. "Mrs. Malfoy, wait! You knew my mother...? I thought she was in Gryffindor..."

The shrewd and calculating glance she gave Potter was one she'd used often on Lucius' friends: considering exactly what she could get out of the famous Harry Potter for information. From her immediate frown, the answer was obvious - not much. "She was a year behind me at Hogwarts. In Gryffindor, yes; though it's a pity. She'd have been Slytherin, but for her unfortunate parentage." Narcissa's frown deepened. "I always expected her to end up with Remus Lupin, but after I heard he was a werewolf, it made much more sense why she avoided him. Poor man. It's illegal for lycanthropes to marry in our world, you know."

"Mother, we'll be late," Draco cut in. The look of awe on Potter's face was disgusting.

Interrupted from her thoughts, Narcissa nodded hastily. "Yes, he'll be waiting." She glanced back to Potter with a faraway look in her eyes. "If things were different... but I suppose that would be too much to ask for. If things are ever more favorable, I would like to tell you about your mother." And, surprising even Draco, she gave a small smile and patted Potter on the shoulder before turning and walking off to purchase the books.

He stood, staring at the baffled Gryffindors with equal confusion. For just a moment, with Houses and sides of the conflict stripped away, Draco found himself ready to offer something other than an insult. But then it was gone. Without a word, derogatory or otherwise, he turned and followed his mother.

Being forced to walk around in bloody Muggle clothing in the midst of bloody Muggle London was perhaps the most degrading experience Draco Malfoy had ever been forced to suffer. "Mother," he hissed, glaring down his aristocratic nose at a couple who were passing by, "would you come off it and tell me why we're meeting Father at a... Muggle restaurant?"

"He believes there to be a listening spell active on the manor. And please, Draco, don't call them Muggles when we're among them, it confuses the poor dears." Narcissa smiled winningly at an oddly dressed man wearing chains and hideous pieces of metal through his face - along with vivid purple hair. Draco wondered if he was a convict of some sort, marked so the Muggle Aurors could track him. The jingling chains and brightly coloured hair were ingenious, especially for a Muggle. "This, here - this is the place. In we go now, dear."

Somehow, being shuffled around by his mother in the midst of the Muggle world was even more embarrassing than in the wizarding world. Wasn't he supposed to be superior to all these people? He settled a deep scowl on his face, ignoring a sympathetic look from some Muggle boy around his age sitting in the corner of the posh restaurant.

Lucius was waiting for them at a table set aside from the rest, in a darker corner. "You're late, Narcissa."

"I'm so sorry, Lucius. I ran into the son of an old school friend, and lost track of the time. Besides, you always have plenty of time set aside for dining, dear." She took her napkin from the table and set about smoothing it over her lap.

"Not as much as I should, today," Lucius replied with a scowl. "Waiter, a bottle of your finest red, and whatever the special is for all of us. And make it fast, I have little time to be wasting." The waiter scurried off as swiftly as he'd appeared, and Lucius turned back to his wife, ignoring Draco. "I'd nearly covered up the book theft when Arthur Weasley showed up, demanding a full list of stolen goods. Seems Dumbledore found out about the robbery. I'll have to alert our Lord that another spy is within the Inner Circle." He sighed. "I doubt the outcome of that discussion will be anything but painful."

"Wait... who stole the books?" Draco demanded, though not softly enough, as his father silenced him with a hiss of dismay.

Lucius glanced around nervously. "Avery and I, of course. I think our Lord was after a Veela scroll of cosmetic spells - and with the way he looks, I don't wonder why. That's why we meet in Muggle London, where no one, Ministry or... otherwise, can overhear us. That Veela text, which Eli Baker is translating even now for the Dark Lord, contains spells calling for Veela blood."

Narcissa's hands shook as she tried to hide her shock. "Oh, no... Lucius, you can't mean..."

"Veela blood? Why should it matter to us, then? Great-grandmum died three years back and father, didn't your mum die when you were a baby?" Draco snapped, ignoring the glare his father was sending. "There aren't any more Veela related to us alive."

"You really are daft, aren't you," Lucius sneered. "What are they teaching at that dreadful school? My mother was a Veela... and what does that mean, boy? I've got Veela blood. You have Veela blood, and you, Draco, are the last Malfoy heir, as well as one of the few British wizards of Veela blood. And damn it all, that Veela blood is suddenly putting us all in very real danger!"

"Oh, gods... Bloody hell, you cant' seriously mean that Lord Bloody Voldemort is intending to slit our throats so he'll look pretty again!" Draco was well aware that he'd begun to hyperventilate and that his voice was slowly growing louder in his panic. Fearing his father dying was one thing. They'd never been particularly close and, surely Draco would miss him, but he wouldn't miss the endless edge-of-the-razorblade games his father had been playing with both sides. At least he, Draco, would be loyal to whichever side ended up offering him the better deal. Now, however, fearing his own death was an entirely different matter.

Lucius clamped a hand on his son's wrist. "It's only a suspicion, not a truth. Now calm yourself, we don't wish to alarm the Muggles." And not more than a moment after Lucius spoke, the waiter arrived with the wine and food. Draco wasn't conscious of what he was eating. With his fears, it all turned to ash in his mouth anyways.

"Now then," Lucius continued, "We've been called before the Dark Lord at midnight tonight. Either he means to use the spell or means to initiate Draco. After that last scene," Lucius sneered in his son's direction, "I almost hope it is the first, as I wouldn't be able to stand your whinging and whimpering in our Lord's presence. More likely it will be the first, of course. I wasn't able to give the scroll more than a cursory examination, but it appears that at least one of us will be in serious danger, depending upon the spell he chooses. I assume that I will be the one sacrificed, if it comes to that, as I've the most Veela in my ancestry."

"You aren't getting sacrificed," Narcissa snapped, glaring across the table at her husband.

Lucius set his fork aside rather forcefully and met the glare with equal fire. "If it saves your lives, then so be it. However, I'm constructing portkeys directly after I return from work, which I'll attach somewhere on our clothing, somewhere safe."

"Portkeys to where? What happens if... I'm the only one left?" Draco winced, knawing on his lower lip. It was a nervous habit he'd thought himself free of - however, he was in mortal peril; a bad habit seemed much less important.

Lucius and Narcissa exchanged worried glances, which did nothing to soothe his mind. "To the Manor... but if we're both dead, you'll need to grab your Gringotts key and both of ours along with the parchments in my study drawer - I'll show you the correct ones this evening - and make for Hogwarts," Lucius said, looking troubled.

"Severus is officially still your godfather, despite our parting of ways several years ago," Narcissa offered. "It will be his legal duty to protect you - and in the safety of Hogwarts, the Dark Lord cannot touch you."

"It won't come to that," Lucius added hastily. "Either myself or your mother will no doubt survive to be with you, and probably both of us. We'll get out, Draco. Now... go on, finish your food. I need to return to work soon."

Food was the last thing on Draco's mind, but he complied. Fear was taking over quickly, however - fear of the Dark Lord, fear of death, fear of losing his parents, and, increasingly, an irrational fear of being left alone. Somehow, the meeting with Potter had become much less important.