Death of Hope

A/N: This fic was written to explain a few movie-related tidbits that were bugging me. Namely, why Lucius is wearing a neck brace in that Azkaban promo shot and how Draco came to be in possession of Snakey (a.k.a. Lucius' walking stick/wand) and that nifty ring he's sporting in HBP. As mentioned in the summary, this is likely to be expanded upon, though I don't know yet to what degree... Hope you enjoy and do please let me know what you think!

It was night when they came for him--later that very night, mere hours after his exceedingly narrow escape. It was time enough to settle his affairs, to see his few truly precious possessions tucked away safely in a place they would never find. For even if they thought to search the grounds, respect for the dead would keep them from ransacking the family mausoleum.

Shivering in the damp and cold, trying not to think how very much like this his future cell in Azkaban would likely be, Lucius Malfoy laid to rest the life he had always known. Into the long, narrow space behind a loose stone, he slipped his walking stick and the wand it concealed, the bright silver snake's head gleaming, the light of the lantern's flame lending a ferocity to the sparkling emerald eyes, as if it thought to protest its captivity.

The silver ring that had never once left his finger since his wedding day was next. He stripped off his black leather gloves, and for a long moment, he stared down at his hand, at the ring there on his third finger, taking in every gleaming, serpentine detail, feeling the weight of it, remembering the moment she had slipped it on his finger. And only when he was sure that he would never forget having worn it did he remove it, struggling a bit at the knuckle, as if the ring too had a mind of its own and no desire to be left here.

Nonetheless, it too was placed in the long, narrow opening in the rock, beside his wand. Time was fleeting, he knew, and feeling that he had wasted too much of it already on such silly sentimentality, he hastily shoved the stone back into place, picked up the lantern, and rushed back into the open air.

And if he lingered then, it was only because he was suddenly acutely aware that this may well be the last time he would see the sky. He was still standing in the garden, gazing up at the moon and the dark clouds passing over it when Narcissa emerged, tugging her green silk night robe tightly around her, as if it may protect her from the cold.

"Lucius," she said quietly, stepping off the stone path to stand beside him and rest a hand on his shoulder, ignoring the cold dew that soaked through her slippers. "Come to bed. Please."

She had not deviated an inch from her nightly routine, refusing to change a single thing on the off chance that avoiding any smaller changes might hold much greater ones at bay. Or perhaps it was simply that she knew that they would never do things quite the same way again.

When he came back to her--and he would come back--he would be different. She knew that. She accepted that. She would love him, no matter who he became. But she would cling to him as he was for as long as she could.

"All right," he whispered, his throat suddenly tight. He took her hand as he turned, held it tightly. But before they could take so much as a step toward the house, there was a series of sharp cracks, as though someone had a lit a firecracker--only, the end result was far less amusing.

Aurors. They were surrounded by Aurors.

Six of them, their wands all pointing at him, steady determination in the eyes of most, thinly concealed amusement in some.

"Lucius Malfoy," the one standing directly in front of him announced. "By order of the Ministry of Magic, you are hereby under arrest for attempted theft of Ministry property, use of Unforgivable Curses, and collusion with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Please surrender your wand."

Slowly and carefully, Lucius reached into his robe, touching the smooth, dark wood of the wand concealed there--not his own, but his father's, left to him several years ago upon his father's death because, in the old man's own words, "what good would it do for it to rot in the ground with my corpse?"

Would it do any good now? His instinct, of course, was to fight. His pride demanded it. But there were six of them and only one of him. Hardly a fair fight. And what could he really hope to accomplish? He glanced at his wife, who stood pale and still beside him. Wouldn't it be easier for her if this was done quietly and quickly, if they just got it over with?

Apparently mistaking his consideration for reluctance, one of the other Aurors spoke, one of the slightly smirking ones. "Come now, Malfoy. Don't be a coward," he said, something faintly taunting in his tone. "What sort of example would it set for your son if--"

The rest of the remark was cut off by a sudden flash of light and a startled yelp as the unanticipated curse whizzed past his left ear, just missing, to slam into the garden wall instead, shattering several of the stones.

"Six against one!" she shouted, her delicate features distorted by grief and rage. "Six against one and you're calling him a coward?"

And before he could recover, Narcissa corrected her aim and fired another nonverbal curse. She wasn't about to tell them what she was using.

Still, he managed to deflect this second blow, and the lead Auror spoke again in that same quietly commanding tone as before.

"Mrs. Malfoy, please put away your wand or--"

But before he could complete the requisite warning, she had fired again. A grave mistake, for the rules of conduct did not state that a warning had to be given in full. She had been asked to put away her wand; it had been strongly implied that there would be consequences if she did not comply. And what's more, she was attacking them with what may well have been Unforgivable Curses. As such, he was authorized to use whatever force he deemed necessary.

He raised his wand overhead, gave the signal for "fire and follow," pointed his wand at her chest, and fired a stun spell. The Auror to his right did the same, as did the next.

Three was all it took. He held up a hand to stop the fourth, watching her closely. She lay in a crumpled heap on the grass, her wand still held in now-limp fingers, the edges of her robe stained almost black where it lay on the damp ground. She seemed to be unconscious, but even if she wasn't, she wouldn't be moving any time soon.

Lucius too stared down at the pale, still form there on the grass. "Narcissa..." Her name fell from his lips in a horrified whisper.

"Now then, Mr. Malfoy..." the lead Auror said, turning his attention back to the task at hand, taking a step closer.

Lucius looked up slowly, the shock and horror evaporating, leaving only a searing cold rage in it's place. How dare they? They had invaded his home, attacked his wife, and now they expected him to simply come along quietly? No. No, he wouldn't be doing that. They were not going to take him, to rip him away from his wife and his son and his home. He had escaped once this evening. He would do so again. Even if he had to kill every last one of them to do it.

He drew his father's wand, and waved it at the lead Auror as if he intended to slice the man in two with it.

"Avada Ke--"

A pair of stun spells from the right sent him staggering. Clenching his teeth, he turned and raised the wand again. Another stronger spell nearly brought him to his knees.

Nearly. But not near enough. He raised his wand again.

"Avad--"

This time four of the Aurors fired almost in unison, the other two half a second later--six different spells, all within a matter of seconds, all individually enough to incapacitate him.

He was knocked off his feet, sent sailing backward until he met the garden wall.

And Narcissa--barely conscious, unable even to keep her eyes open--heard the awful, sickening crack of breaking bone.