Apology For the Devil

Author Notes:

Firstly, major thanks to my fabulous betas. LadyRhian, whose input into later romantic chapters will make you all much happier than if I were writing them alone. And to Monargh: brilliant beta, britpicker extraordinaire and many other superlative adjectives. You two rock my world. *schnoogles*

Author Warning:

This fic explores the decisions made in Lucius Malfoy's life. In navigating that, I've been forced to jump around quite a bit in terms of the timeframe. Some chapters, like this one, will span multiple years. Others may take place in less than twenty-four hours. Hopefully, it won't be confusing. If it is, let me know and I'll try to fix it in future.

Author Disclaimer:

Views expressed are often those of Lucius and not mine. Thusly, the story will include strong anti-muggle and muggleborn sentiments, as well as severe distaste for Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. There will also be house-elf abuse, and, in later chapters, some animal abuse. Consider yourselves warned.

Oh, and like all authors, I'm a review junkie =)

--Laurabeth

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Chapter One - Your Father's Son

Truth does not consist in never lying but in knowing when to lie and when not to do so.

[Samuel Butler]

Those who live by the sword get shot by those who don't.

[attr. James Scott McEwan]

####

Abraxas Malfoy sat with his wife and son, having just finished dinner. The house-elves came to clear the table, which they did without as much as a glance from any of the three family members. Abraxas liked order, and in his house each being knew what was expected of him.

He glanced down the table at his son, Lucius, who was six years old. He was shaping up to be a credit to the Malfoy name; tall and fair, and abnormally perceptive for a boy of six. Abraxas was proud of him; he'd go far. All that was left was to teach him. Oh, he'd go to Hogwarts; that was assured. Only the finest school would be suitable for his son. Few people knew about the financial troubles riddling Durmstrang, and the lawsuits that were pending. It was best to keep Lucius away from all that. In addition, his wife would be most unhappy if the boy were to be sent so far away from home. Hence, Hogwarts, however corrupted it might be by the crackpot Dumbledore.

Other training would be necessary to supplement the Hogwarts curriculum, naturally. Dark Arts training was a given, but his son would also learn charm, etiquette, and custom. Manners was of great importance to Abraxas: it was always best to know the rules of society before you went about breaking them--and it was best to work within them if it was possible.

'Lucius,' he said neutrally into the silence, setting down his cup of brandy, 'I'd like to see you in my study in half an hour.'

###

A half hour later, Lucius was in his father's study. He didn't know what his father wanted, but he suspected it might have to do with his birthday, which had been the Saturday before. He was six, he happily reminded himself. His father must have realized that Lucius was growing up. To be called to his father's study was something new and rare. He was not then aware of how common it would become.

His father entered, and motioned for Lucius to sit with him. Lucius sat in the too-large armchair and gazed upon his father's books, which filled the walls from floor to ceiling. For a moment, Lucius was deep in his own thoughts wondering what the books contained. He sharply returned to reality and looked at his father. In the silence before Abraxas spoke, Lucius struggled not to squirm with anticipation. It was a formidable task.

'Lucius,' his father began, 'do you know how long the Malfoy family has been in existence?'

Lucius thought about it before hazarding a guess.

'A hundred years?' he asked tentatively.

Lucius looked up at his father eagerly. He could have sworn he saw a smile playing at his father's lips. Abraxas leaned in to tell him the answer.

'Almost two thousand years,' he said in a voice that made Lucius realize that the Malfoy lineage was nothing to be taken lightly. 'One thousand eight hundred and ninety-two years, to be precise. And that's only how far back we can trace. The name Malfoy came into use about nine hundred years ago. Before that, there were no last names.'

Lucius looked up at his father reverently, feeling this had to be leading up to something important.

'Since the beginning of our line, we Malfoys have prided ourselves on certain attributes. Do you know what any of these are?'

'Pure blood!' Lucius replied quickly and happily; he knew the answer to this one.

'Exactly,' Abraxas affirmed, 'as well as supreme loyalty to the family. You must remember, son, that the Malfoy name is older and more enduring than any one of us, so it comes before all else. You must never let it be ridiculed, and must defend it with all your strength. Do you understand this?'

Lucius heard the hard edge to the question, the urgency which his father felt, and knew that it was more than a question of whether Lucius understood the concept. Abraxas was asking for commitment. Would Lucius carry on the age old tradition? Was Lucius willing to sacrifice everything for his family?

'Yes,' he responded softly to the unspoken request. 'I understand.'

###

That week, his father took him to buy his first wand. Normally, children were given only toy wands until they turned ten. The toys were strong enough to entertain, but were not sufficiently endowed to do anything more advanced than shooting sparks. They were often charmed with anti-destruction spells, ending parental worries about sparks setting the house on fire. Lucius had used one of these since he was old enough to correctly pronounce incantations. His stomach fluttered with excitement when he heard he would get a proper wand; his father thought him mature enough to be beyond toys.

They entered 'Ollivander's' the finest wand maker. Lucius entered the shop a few steps behind his father. The interior was dingy compared to the bright sunlight outside and Lucius blinked a few times to adjust his vision. His father did not.

When a man, presumably 'Ollivander' came from the back of the shop, Lucius surveyed him interestedly. The old man had unnaturally pale skin, and wore a distant, dreamy look that was only heightened by his eyes, silver in colour and practically glowing. Eerie.

'Young mister Malfoy, I presume?' the man asked softly, his eyes quickly glancing at Abraxas before settling again on Lucius. Lucius waited for his father's response, but Abraxas merely looked down at him expectantly. Lucius gulped, and answered for himself.

'Yes,' he said, and when it didn't seem enough he added, 'Lucius Malfoy.'

He wanted to tell the man that he'd just had his sixth birthday, and explain how excited he was to be getting a wand, but it seemed somehow childish. He decided to leave it there.

A quick glance at his father assured him that this was sufficient, but the wand-man still hadn't said anything. After a moment he spoke, suddenly, as if coming out of a trance.

'A bit young for a wand, aren't we?' he asked, while pulling boxes from the shelves.

'I'm six,' Lucius blurted, but stopped himself from saying more.

'Starting him off early, aren't we Mr. Malfoy?' the man asked Lucius' father with a twinkle in his eye. Lucius hoped fervently that his father would answer this one.

'No sense in waiting if the boy's ready is there?' his father responded amicably.

'No, no. Of course not,' replied the man, who, by now, had stopped pulling boxes. 'Which is your wand arm?' he asked Lucius.

'My right.' Lucius was handed a wand.

'Ten inches, ash, dragon heartstring. Quite bendy.'

Lucius gave it a wave, only half expecting something to happen. But it did. A tingle ran down his arm, and the wand emitted pure silver sparks. He stared down in amazement.

'The first wand, was it?' Ollivander laughed, though Lucius wasn't sure what was so funny. It was sheer luck, that was all. He said nothing.

'Well,' Ollivander continued, 'weren't an easy one?'

Lucius did not like the sound of being 'easy.'

As Ollivander rang up the bill, and Lucius' father paid, Lucius examined his new wand. It was smooth, and at least twice as long as the play wand he had at home. The ash wood was white, though there was a hint of brown down by the handle where he would be holding it.

It was such a simple looking thing, but as he remembered the shivers it had sent up his arm, he reminded himself that this might hold the key to his future. Power, fame, fortune. And above all, he thought, remembering his father's speech to him, glory and renown for the Malfoy name.

###

From that day, Lucius had sessions with his father twice a week. He waited with anticipation for the days when, his father would ask to see him. If his father left the dinner table without saying anything, Lucius tried to hide his disappointment as best he could, and would go off to his room instead. Abraxas had made it clear that Lucius was not to do any magic unless in the presence of his father. Lucius found it increasingly hard to resist as he learned more.

They began carefully. The first sessions involved learning how to control the colour of the sparks coming from the wand. Lucius doubted this would ever be useful, but he did as he was told. Abraxas' explanation had been that Lucius was still a boy, and that as a teacher he had to figure out how quickly his son could learn before proceeding.

'You're young,' his father had explained. 'We don't want to do anything to hurt you or your magical abilities at this age.'

Nevertheless, it was frustrating.

###

One Saturday, when he was eight, something happened that made his frustration seem trivial. Lucius was outside on the grounds of the Manor, riding his broom through the gardens. He'd always loved flying. The excitement and freedom as the feet left the ground. The sense of control over everything. The wind biting at the eyes, ruffling the hair. He was in heaven.

He often dreamed that one of his father's visitors would look out the window and see him flying, and then would come outside to tell Lucius that he was such a spectacular flyer that he had to join the national junior Quidditch league.

It never happened, but he liked his fantasy just fine.

On that Saturday, though, his daydreaming was interrupted. A house-elf came out to him, and asked him to come down. Exasperated, Lucius landed.

'What is it?' he asked shortly. 'I hope it's important.'

The house-elf's eyes went wide, and it stammered for a few moments.

'Your father is wishing to see you Master Lucius,' it said squeakily, 'if you would please follow Wippet.'

Lucius was so taken by surprise that he neglected to put his broom up, just leaned it by the door and followed where the elf led. His father was always busy during the days, even on weekends. Something must have happened to cause Abraxas to break his habitual schedule.

The elf led him to his father's study, opened the door, and bowed as Lucius went into the room. The door shut behind him. Lucius fixed his gaze upon his father's grave face, where disappointment was mixed with resolve.

'Lucius,' his father said from behind his desk. His voice was cold, though not accusatory. There was a touch of worry behind it.

'Yes, father?' he asked tentatively. He started running the thumb of his right hand over his fingernails--a nervous habit he'd always had. By now he didn't even notice when he did it.

'Lucius,' his father said again, and the hanging silence that followed seemed to go on forever.

'Were you using your wand last night?'

Last night, when I was away, Lucius finished for him, mentally. Last night when you weren't supposed to be using it.

His father leaned in to him, elbows on his desk, cold blue eyes sternly meeting those of his son. As Abraxas Malfoy had aged, the aura of power and authority surrounding him had only grown stronger. This was the first time Lucius had seen it fully, and it was the first time that he was truly frightened of his father.

'I need to know if this is true.'

Lucius considered his options. Yes, he had been using his wand, but he wasn't doing anything difficult or dangerous. He had been reviewing what his father had taught him the night before that, nothing more.

Part of him wanted to let that truth out in a torrent of words, but he remembered what his father had taught him about control. There was no logical way that his father could know that Lucius had used his wand, neither could there be any proof that he had done such a thing.

And he wasn't supposed to have been using it. His father had specifically said that Lucius was not to use his wand unless Abraxas was in the room. Lucius had gone against one of his father's direct commands.

'No, father,' he said, his voice trembling only slightly. 'I wasn't.'

'Are you sure?' Abraxas asked him. Lucius wondered what that question was supposed to mean. Was he sure that he hadn't been using his wand, or was he sure that he wanted to say that he hadn't been using it?

'I--I wasn't using my wand last night,' Lucius said, trying to make his voice sound strong and self-assured.

'Lucius,' his father said dangerously, 'I am not a fool. I know you are lying.'

'I--'

'I do not appreciate being lied to, Lucius. Were you or were you not using your wand?' Abraxas stood, white knuckles pressed against his desk.

'I--'

'Yes?'

Lucius fought back an incredible urge to start crying then and there. He tried to compose himself before answering softly.

'I was, father.'

'Lucius,' his father said in a low voice, frustration, disappointment and rage mixing in a deadly concoction, 'This is unacceptable.'

'I'm sorry, father,' Lucius said in a rush, any illusion of control completely disintegrated. 'I was only practicing, and I wasn't doing anything new, and I didn't think that it would be--'

'Damn it, Lucius!' his father yelled.

Abraxas never yelled. Especially not at Lucius, who by now had never been so terrified in his life.

'It isn't about the bloody wand! I don't care about the wand!'

Lucius felt his insides melting into one giant puddle. If it wasn't about the wand then Lucius had no idea what was making his father was so upset.

Abraxas closed his eyes in frustration, and sighed.

'Lucius,' he continued in a softer, but no less serious tone, 'I don't care that you were practicing. You are my son. Of course you were going to practice. But you lied to me.'

Lucius bowed his head in shame, suddenly comprehending.

'I am your father, and you lied to me. You told me something that was not true, deliberately, because you thought it might save your skin.' He approached Lucius, and grabbed his son's chin. He forced Lucius to look him in the eyes.

'I--' Lucius began, but was stopped by his father's glare.

'You cannot lie to me Lucius. Never attempt to again,' he breathed. 'Whatever you have done, it will never be worse than lying to your father.'

He released Lucius, and went back to his desk. Lucius was crying.

'I'm sorry, father,' he whimpered, out of shame rather than physical hurt.

He had disappointed his father, more than disappointed; he had made his father angry with him.

'Don't be sorry,' responded Abraxas, who had calmed down significantly, 'just don't do it again.'

'I promise,' Lucius whispered slowly. 'I'll never lie again.'

There was a silent moment before Abraxas spoke.

'Wrong,' he said, and Lucius' heart wrenched.

'You will lie,' his father continued smoothly. 'You will find that you need to. Heaven knows, others will lie to you.' He paused and looked meaningfully at Lucius. 'I don't care what you tell them. The mudbloods, the muggles, the fools. I don't care how much you lie to any of them. But Lucius, listen well. You will not lie to me. For I will never, ever lie to you.'

Lucius could think of nothing to say.

'Do we have a deal?' his father asked with a slight smile.

'Yes, father,' Lucius said, drying his eyes. 'We have a deal.'

'Good,' Abraxas said coolly. 'Now go back to your broomstick.'

###

By the time Lucius was nine, he had improved at the art of magical control. He could learn charms much more quickly than when he had started, something aided by the fact that his natural magical abilities began surfacing. His father told him that the sudden leap in skill was due to the fact that Lucius' magic was ready to be used. The magic flowed, and Lucius no longer had to force it.

Abraxas had refrained as much as possible from teaching Lucius charms that he'd learn in school, preferring to use their time to supplement the curriculum at Hogwarts.

'I have no doubts that you will be able to handle the coursework there, Lucius, and so preparing you for it is not my intent.'

Instead, they focused on the Dark Arts, on curses and jinxes, and on ways to get back at those who would impugn the Malfoy name.

Lucius had been told in no uncertain terms that he was to refrain from revealing the nature of his training to anyone. He promised he would keep it confidential, and whenever he wanted to brag to a visitor that he could cast a severing charm, he remembered his promise, and how much he wanted to prove to his father that he was taking their lessons seriously. So he kept to his father's rules, however much he wanted to break them.

Each year passed in the same way. He practiced hexes and curses on house-elves that his father had procured, becoming more advanced by the year. Lucius thrived and the elves suffered. He loved the sense of power as he magically bound and silenced a house-elf, preparing to try a new charm. Although he was careful not to show that he was too content, he loved his father for providing the opportunities to feel that way.

###

Abraxas watched his ten year old son raise his wand over his head, point it at the motionless elf, and say the incantation he had just learned. The elf's eyes closed, and its mouth opened to cry out. Not that either Malfoy could hear it; Lucius had become quite adept at silencing spells. Abraxas was proud of the boy; after all, not many ten year olds could cast the spell Lucius had. Abraxas tried to keep that a secret from Lucius; it would only make him cocky and overconfident, traits he certainly didn't want in his son. He did intent to tell Lucius how well he was doing before the boy left for school. He deserved that much praise.

Lucius ended the curse and looked hopefully up at his father. Abraxas nodded.

'Good,' he approved. 'Do it again.'

Lucius' mouth opened to protest before forming a thin line, the only indication of his frustration. He began the charm again. Abraxas smiled. Though far from unreadable, his son was getting better at hiding himself.

Abraxas lifted his own wand, and pointed it at his son. 'Rictusempra,' he whispered, and the tickling hex took effect.

Lucius began laughing hysterically as he writhed, trying to avoid the invisible hands that were tickling him mercilessly. His eyes darted about in confusion. Offering no explanation, Abraxas watched from the shadows.

Seeing that the hex wasn't going to end, Lucius set his jaw, hardened his gaze, and restarted the charm he was supposed to be performing on the house-elf. He wasn't nearly as adept as he was when undistracted, but he managed it well enough.

After a few moments, Abraxas stepped back into the light. 'Finite Incantatem,' he incanted, pointing his wand at his son. Lucius gasped for breath, having held in laughter for so long, but didn't let his attention waver. Lucius continued the spell; his father had not told him to stop. Impressive, thought Abraxas. He nodded at Lucius, who finished with the house-elf. Lucius looked up at him as he sent the house-elf limping off. Abraxas noted the triumphant glint in Lucius' gaze.

'I did it, father.'

###

One day in late July of his eleventh year, Lucius received a letter in the post. He'd come home to find it on the table: Mr. Lucius Malfoy, second floor green room, Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire. He promptly opened it, and skimmed the contents. Excitement bubbled up inside of him: he was going to Hogwarts. He'd always known it was inevitable, but it was something else entirely to have proof.

He forced himself to wait until dinner to tell his parents that his acceptance letter had arrived. His father wouldn't like to be interrupted, and his mother was out having tea with Mrs. Parkinson.

When they finally sat down to dinner Lucius mentioned the letter as casually as he could, which wasn't very casually at all. His parents reacted to the news in the expected manner. They told him calmly that they would go shopping in Diagon Alley the following Wednesday, would he please review the list so he could be sure of what he was supposed to get.

'Congratulations, Lucius,' his mother added, noting his disappointment that his parents did not seem as excited about the news as he was.

Yet when he looked at his father, Lucius thought he saw pride in his eyes.

When dessert came, Abraxas broached the topic of Hogwarts again, which surprised and delighted Lucius. He told Lucius of the four houses, as if he didn't know, and told him of the triumphs he'd had as a boy. He told of the wonders of Slytherin house, the staggering ineptitude of Hufflepuff, and the assuming, vindictive Gryffindors.

By the time dinner was over, Lucius would have sworn that his father looked almost wistful. Except that Abraxas Malfoy did not look wistful. Ever. As the plates were carried away, Abraxas leaned back in his chair.

'Lucius,' he said nonchalantly, and Lucius' heart leapt with anticipation, 'I'd like to see you in my study in a half hour.'

Lucius nodded respectfully, and with as much dignity as he could. Internally, his pulse was racing. Even after five years, he still looked forward to training with his father. He hurried to get his wand. It wouldn't do to be late.

###

Lucius met his father in the study that night, wand in hand. Abraxas proudly watched his son enter the room. Now that he was going to Hogwarts, it was time to assure Lucius' success. Abraxas stood up and, with a gesture, moved all of the furniture to the edges of the room.

'Lucius,' he pronounced. It became clear that he wasn't going to continue the thought.

'Father?' his son replied inquisitively. He was respectful, but his voice had an edge of self-assurance to it.

Abraxas smiled inwardly. He had wanted his child to address his parents as 'sir' and 'ma'am,' but his wife was of the opinion that it would distance their child from them. So he had relented, settling on 'father' and 'mother' as their titles. He had taken to her suggestion over the years, and glowed every time his son called him father.

Noting his son's impatience, Abraxas began the lesson. With no explanation, he raised his wand, pointed it at Lucius, and spoke, calmly and evenly.

'Acerbatis.'

He saw the momentary panic in his son's eyes, as Lucius realized that his hand was aching. He tore his gaze away from it, refusing to acknowledge the pain. The panic in his eyes displayed a lack of comprehension of what he was supposed to do. It was soon replaced by calculation.

Abraxas saw his son's mind begin to analyze what he had to do pass what was surely a test. By now, Abraxas knew, the pain would be spreading up his son's wrist, and threatening the lower forearm. Abraxas saw his son's good hand reach for his wand, before pulling back.

'Do it,' the father whispered challengingly.

It was clear that the spell was beginning to take. Abraxas had chosen it carefully--slow acting enough to allow time for a response, and strong enough that it would elicit that response. At the same time, it had to be sufficiently weak to avoid hurting the boy. Apart from the fact that he couldn't chance losing Lucius' trust, the idea of genuinely hurting his son made his stomach turn.

At his father's command, Lucius' eyes widened. Grey eyes, thought Abraxas absently, just like his mother's. Lucius' lips parted slightly, as if to ask a question, before he firmly clamped them shut. A look of determination crossed over his face. His elbow tightened, and the muscles below it were all tense and cramping painfully.

Lucius walked to the other side of the room, and sat in one of the chairs against the wall. He crossed his arms, and looked at his father stubbornly. The action firmly declared 'no.'

Abraxas smirked. He beckoned the boy back to the center of the room with a look and a motion of his free hand. If that didn't work, he was fully prepared to vanish the chair right out from under the boy, but it didn't come to that. Once Lucius was back before him, Abraxas intensified the curse. Lucius winced, but didn't say anything as the spell crept up his arm and toward the shoulder. He grimaced at the sudden intensity when his shoulder seized up. Abraxas directed the curse to go after the back of his neck and upper back muscles next.

'Lucius,' Abraxas said soothingly, tauntingly, 'why won't you do it?'

Lucius' eyes flicked once again to the wand in his pocket.

'I give you permission,' Abraxas continued. Part of him hoped that his son would buckle, and Abraxas would be able to end the curse that was harming his son. His protective instincts were clamouring to end it. Another part of him wanted his son to endure, to see how far Lucius could go. Lucius stared at him resolutely.

'No,' his son said forcefully. His grey eyes flashed furiously as he defied his father.

Abraxas intensified it again, instructing the curse to move down his son's back, but always keeping away from his wand arm, and, of course, from vital muscles. Lucius gasped slightly as his lower back seized up, muscles tensing to the point of agony.

'No!' his son half shouted.

'Come on, boy,' Abraxas taunted. No response. In an instant, he understood.

'Lucius, I am not your father any more.'

The implication was clear. Lucius was to forget the respect he accorded his father, and treat him solely as an enemy. The effects were nearly instantaneous. Lucius grabbed the wand from his pocket and cast a Gasping-curse. Allowing the spell to hit, Abraxas fought for breath as he pointed the wand at his son again.

'Expelliarmus! Finite Incantatem.'

Both curses ended, and father and son quietly sighed in relief.

Abraxas looked down at his son, more pale-faced than ever. 'Lucius,' he said sternly, sounding almost disapproving, 'never let anyone do that to you again. Ever. Do you understand me?'

Lucius nodded.

'Yes father,' he said, chastised, but frantically trying to cover his wounds. Abraxas' heart went out to the boy. But he knew it would make Lucius stronger. He returned the furniture to its rightful place, and sat opposite his son.

'This is the most important thing I have to teach you. You are off to school very soon, and when you go, I intend you to honour the Malfoy name. And when you allow someone to hurt you, or insult you, you are allowing them to tarnish our reputation.'

He knew Lucius would resent this all his life--that the family name meant more to his father than a son's independence. Abraxas had felt the same resentment towards his father. It was as much a part of the family tradition as anything.

'You must be on guard. You must be untouchable. Never display weakness, never appear uncomfortable or out of place. Even if you are dying inside, you will hide it. You are in control, always. And if you ever feel that you are not, you must try twice as hard to appear that you are. Act bored, act cocky, act as though the world is yours, and above all, act in control.'

Lucius nodded, processing the information. Abraxas continued the lecture, the same one that had been given to him when he was eleven by his father, who had undoubtedly received it himself.

'You have to know that these things aren't true; fooling yourself into complacency is easier done than you might think. Know who you are, and where you stand. But keep that truth hidden away from others. If you are challenged, throw the enemy off-balance before attacking. Insult them, deceive them, but go into the fight with the upper hand. Don't fight fair; there is more glory in winning a fight on your terms than there is losing a fight on fair terms, and no less glory than winning it without tricks. Anger your enemy; they will inevitably slip up in their rage. Use every way you can devise to gain advantage. This is what we do.

'Lucius, you have the ability to be whatever you want to be. You have the intelligence, the power, and the name. You have the pure blood of the Malfoy family. You have the potential to be one of the greatest wizards this world has ever seen. But to do that, you must learn how to fight. More importantly, you must learn how to win. You can do this, Lucius, because you are a Malfoy. This is our legacy.'

Abraxas stopped, exhausted from having relayed so much to his son at once. But it needed to be said. He knew there was no way that Lucius would retain it all, nor would he be able to use it without practice. But he would learn. After all, he was his father's son.