The Illustrated Death of Lucius Malfoy

Prologue

Lucius Malfoy found himself half-caught in memory as he lay in his bed in the semi-darkness.

He caught Narcissa dressing at her mirror, slender fingers buttoning avocado green robes made of a fabric that clung to her frame. "What are you doing up?" he inquired.

"We're going to the social, are we not?" She picked up a gold comb and began to work it through her long hair.

Concern upon his visage, he slipped up behind her. "You were ill. I assumed that we were going to spend the evening at home."

"The doctor's been here. I'm fine." She waved a hand at him. "Come here. How was work?"

Puzzled, Lucius wrapped his arms around her from behind, kissing her upturned cheek. "Difficult, as always. What did the doctor say?"

Narcissa turned back to the mirror, leaning slightly against her new husband as her fingers began to skillfully arrange her hair. "That I'm having a baby. Fetch my flowered hair comb, will you dear? It's over there."

Lucius released her and had the hair comb in his hand before he realized what she had said. "What? You're - what?" Suddenly, he felt as if he had to sit down.

"We're having a baby. Surprise." She did not take her eyes away from the mirror. "The comb, Lucius. Be quick about it."

He handed her the comb. "Are - are you sure, dear?"

"Quite. It seems that with all of this nonsense with the Ministry and all, I've been neglecting - how shall I say this -" Narcissa pinned the comb into place. " - watching out for the way the body operates. I've even gained a bit of weight. I'm surprised that you hadn't noticed."

Lucius sat, hard, on an antique chair. "I understood that we weren't going to have any children."

"Oh, Lucius, really. Don't be a grump." She turned, finally, to look at him. "And get dressed. You can't wear your work robes to the social."

He stared at her. "I thought that we had discussed this. We were not going to have any children, Narcissa!"

"But I wanted a baby, Lucius," she said.

"And you didn't think to ask the father of this child how he felt about this?" Lucius clenched the arms of the chair.Â

"I don't know what you're so upset about. You'll make a smashing father," Narcissa smiled. "Come now. It's late. You should wear the dark blue robes with the matching cape. They make your eyes stand out."

"Are you mad, woman? I'll make a terrible father!" Lucius exploded. "You know what my childhood was like."

"You're a good husband," she purred in response. "A wonderful man. It will come naturally."

"Yes. I had such a good example as a boy," Lucius snapped. He rose, going to one of his wardrobes. He paused, putting a gloved hand to his face. "Look, if you wish something to care for - volunteer at a home for orphans."

"I want this child. Our child." Finally, Narcissa's voice turned unpleasant. "You will learn to accept our child. Do not make me distrust you, Lucius. If I have to refuse food and drink from you for the next six months, I will -"

"How dare you -" Lucius whipped around to face his wife, "- suggest that I would ever hurt you?"

"You would. You don't love our child." She stared at him with cold blue eyes. For a moment, Narcissa stood still, fists clenched. Then she spoke. "Then I'm leaving you, Lucius."Â Â Â

He stopped dead in his tracks. "Don't." He stared at a blank wall, crossing his arms. "Don't."

"I will. I will pack my things and leave this very moment. And send an owl to your father announcing that you shouldn't be his sole beneficiary because you refuse to produce an heir!" Narcissa shouted.

Lucius turned slowly, and then the walls around him toppled when he saw the tears that stained Narcissa's face. "Don't leave," he repeated, his voice soothing. "Don't."

"You know that I couldn't," she said through her tears. "You're the only man I have hated as much as I loved."

His stomach fluttered, and he gathered his courage. "Don't be upset. You'll hurt the child."Â

Narcissa let out a small cry. "And now you care?"

"I care for you." He reached out for her. "Come here. Dry your eyes. Your face will puff up, and the society ladies will wonder what I did to you."

Narcissa laughed softly. She went to him, to his arms, and he held her tightly.

"Perhaps you'll have a little girl for you to play with," Lucius mused out loud. This I am for sure, he added silently. The child is best kept with Narcissa - and far away from me. If she has a little girl, I'll not have to do a thing.

"Relax, will you?" Severus Snape handed Lucius a full glass of Scottish whiskey.

"I've had two already," Lucius muttered. And coupled with no sleep in nearly thirty-six hours, I'm surprised that I'm not dead or vomiting, he thought. He sipped the drink, briefly considering shedding his waistcoat. His robes had been cast aside long ago.

"You're still pacing the floors like a Muggle in a cage," Snape replied darkly.

Lucius chuckled. "A Muggle in a cage. Good one."

A scream coming from his bedroom upstairs caused Lucius to stand very still until it subsided. He downed the rest of the glass, gasping as the drink slid down his throat.

"Your wife is healthy and strong," a voice said from a dark corner. "You have nothing to worry about, Lucius."Â

He shivered slightly, not knowing whether it was the fact that he had nearly drunk a bottle of whiskey on his own, or that Lord Voldemort occupied the great chair near the fire. Peter Pettigrew squatted at his feet, leering up at Snape and Malfoy.

"Of course, my lord." Lucius nodded once - a small bow.

"Now, if we could breed Severus," Voldemort mused out loud, "we'd be doing well."

Snape laughed nervously. "All in good time, my lord."

"I like my lieutenants secure in their lives." Voldemort stroked his withered chin as he spoke. "I must admit that your clinging to your bachelorhood disturbs me."

"We'll find him a wife, soon enough." Lucius wavered slightly as he spoke. "I'll make it one of my highest priorities."

Another scream paused the conversation, but this was followed by the unmistakable cry of a newborn child.

Lucius ran for the staircase, but Snape stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Give the doctor time to fetch you," the dark-maned wizard said.

"I must see Narcissa." Lucius darted past Snape and up the stairs.

Once at the door, Lucius found that the doctor closed the door behind him as he put on his cloak. "The midwife is cleaning off the baby and your missus. I received an owl - another baby. I must go." He gripped Lucius's hand in a firm handshake. "Congratulations." He went down the stairs.

Lucius opened the door, and found the master bedroom in surprisingly good order. He saw Dobby the house elf wave his hands over a few bloodstained towels, and the spots vanished, leaving them quite clean. Then he found himself going immediately to the bed, where he could see Narcissa propped up on several pillows. Her eyes were closed.

"Darling." He sat on the bed, taking her hand. "Alright?"

"She's fine," the midwife said. "She's been through a difficult time, but she'll be quite fine."

Narcissa opened her eyes, and a small smile touched her lips. "Look what I have, Lucius." She pulled back the blanket slightly, revealing a small, thin face swaddled within even more layers of quilting.

Lucius stared down at the red face, the swollen lips and eyes, and found himself unable to do anything but stare. He started to reach for the small body, but his hand fell short.  Â

Narcissa touched the tiny cheek, and the sleeping baby wrinkled its nose. Lucius could no longer resist; he ran his hand over the small head, misshapen from its natural entrance into the world, and leaned over to inspect its features. "Hello, Althea," he said softly, entranced with the child momentarily.

"Althea?" Narcissa inquired.

"You wanted to name her Althea, yes? After your grandmother?" Lucius inquired, his fingers running over a warm cheek.

Narcissa chuckled slightly. "Not anymore. Lucius, this is your son."

He paused in mid-stroke. "It's - a boy?"Â

Nodding, Narcissa lifted the baby a bit, sliding her hand beneath him. "Would you like to hold your son?"

Lucius's hand dropped to his side. "No. I wouldn't."

"Here. I'll help you. I train new fathers all the time in holding their children -" the midwife began.

"No. Really. I -" Lucius protested, backing away.Â

"Come now, Lucius," Narcissa said weakly. "Please."

He looked to his wife as the midwife took the baby from her. You did this, Lucius thought. It is your manipulation that brought this child into the world. I can't fault the child for that. The midwife then went to his side, and started to hold the bundled baby out to him. Lucius awkwardly, almost without knowing what he did, put his hands beneath the child.

"Yes, good. One hand beneath the head, put the body on your arm - Yes, Mr. Malfoy, you're a natural." The midwife beamed as she spoke.

Lucius felt his son's warmth on his arm, and looked down again at the hairless head, the peaceful face. Child, he thought. You look like me.

Then he realized the great position in which he had been placed. My father never once held me or embraced me. I do not know where to begin with this boy. I do not know where to begin.

"You have done your duty well, Sister Witch," a voice near the door hissed. "I have left a bag of gold near the door. It should more than cover your fees."

Lucius looked up from the child to the face of the midwife. She had turned white, and looked to Narcissa. "I will be available by owl should you need me." She bowed her head, and scurried from the room.

Narcissa appeared more pale against the pillows. "My Lord," she whispered. "It is very kind of you to visit us at this late hour."

Lucius stood, his arm shifting unconsciously to shield the child from view with the billowing sleeve of his shirt. Voldemort's robes billowed as he crossed the room to the young wizard - the man less than a third of his age. "I could not miss this most fortuitous of events, Narcissa," he said, lips turned up slightly. "I have been tending to your husband for nearly a day, and I think I have been successful in keeping his sanity intact. Take all the time you need to return to us, dear, to recover and be strong, but do not tarry too long." The Dark Lord's voice was almost grandfatherly.

Narcissa nodded. "I will do my best, my Lord." She blinked, then trained her gaze on her husband and child.

Lucius's eyes met hers momentarily before he looked away.

"Well, now. Let me see your son, Lucius." Voldemort reached out two withered hands. "Yes, I know that you've had a boy. You made me laugh, truly, with your belief that you'd have a daughter to dote upon. I could see the child resting in his mother's womb."

"I'd expect nothing less of your powers, my Lord." Lucius hesitated for a moment, baby still partially hidden behind the fabric of his sleeves. Then he slowly and carefully passed the child to the Dark Lord, and the tiny face became revealed.

"Ah." For a moment, the deformed visage gained humanity, and Lord Voldemort became Tom Riddle. "Ah, look, Lucius. You breed well, my boy."

Hardly a boy, Lucius thought, when a husband, father, soon to be patriarch, and nearly twenty-five. Does he think me a prize stallion, a sire for the pureblooded and the powerful? One look at the Dark Wizard's reaction to the baby gave him an affirmative answer. Severus Snape and I, the two sons Tom Riddle would never have, he mused. I have surpassed the Dark Lord with my powers of procreation - an act that he will never be able to perform. Lucius Malfoy could not resist smirking at this thought.Â

The baby's eyes opened, and Lucius for a moment feared that the child would cry at the sight of the withered dark wizard. Voldemort began to gurgle within his throat, and made some soft cooing noises. The little boy merely stared, held in absolute rapture.  Â

"Ah, yes," Voldemort said finally. "Well, done, Lucius. Well done."

Narcissa snorted softly.

"Your pardon, my Lord," Lucius said, "but my wife is as much responsible for the child as I."

"Of course." Voldemort did not look up from the baby's face. "Lucius, I would keep this child close to you." Finally, he looked up, with a gaze that turned the younger wizard's blood cold. "One should never make an enemy of their own heir. Especially with his breeding - and yours." He held out the baby, and Lucius took him back. "You might want to ask yourself if you have done yourself a great injustice by creating a child exactly like yourself."Â

Lucius shivered. "But, my Lord, he is as much Narcissa's child as he is mine -"

"No." Voldemort cast a glance at Narcissa. "He is not." He nodded, stepped backwards, closed his eyes, and disapparated.

The child within Lucius's arms began to make small, frustrated noises. He looked down at the baby helplessly, and then to Narcissa, whose face had turned from exhausted to venomous.

"Well, then," Narcissa said. "We'll name him after you, then."

"Give him my second name. I don't want another Lucius running around the house." Lucius began to rock the baby without realizing it.

"It seems that it's too late for that," Narcissa said darkly.

"Should I call for the nurse? She was asleep in her room the last time I checked, somehow, through all of this noise," Lucius said softly, uncertainly. "You need to sleep."

"As do you." Narcissa closed her eyes. "Goodnight, Lucius Draco Malfoy. Goodnight, Draco Lucius Malfoy." She said no more.

Forty-two year old Lucius Malfoy sighed and allowed his weight to settle back against the pillows that propped him up. A lock of his white-blonde hair fell across his face, yet he ignored it.

He turned his head, and stared at the rest of the bed - the pillows that sat unused now, and suddenly, he felt as if he would burst into tears. But no tears came. He had not cried in two years, and he doubted that he ever would again.

"Our sister and witch, Narcissa Vinigra-Malfoy, touched the lives of so many with her work in charity..." A witch in black robes droned on.

Lucius hardly heard her. He did not know where he was. He knew - somehow - that he had to reach through the veil that had fallen upon his soul, and say something to his son.

I must get away from this madness. I must be alone with my son, he thought.

And then his entire throat collapsed upon itself, and he bit his lip to avoid bursting into tears.

He looked upon the funeral pyre, where Narcissa's body lay, now swaddled completely in white, even her face covered. Avada Kedavra left no scars, no ugliness, and had left her body soulless -

- and still as beautiful as the day I married her, he thought.Â

The talking ended, the eulogizing fell silent, and then Lucius knew that his time had come. Standing, he turned back, looking at Draco. Draco sat semi-hunched over, eyes red and cheeks blotchy, yet no tears revealed themselves.

He reached out his hand, and Draco took it wordlessly, climbing to his feet.

A wizard handed Lucius a flaming torch - he would not be sure, later, who did so. Walking over to the pyre, he held the torch aloft, shivering in the winter morning that had covered the wizard's graveyard with snow. Draco followed, silently, his hand in his father's. Now Lucius's height and of the same slim yet broad-shouldered build, it appeared for a moment that the sixteen year old boy was his father's twin.

Lucius stopped at the pyre, and did not tarry a moment. He tossed the torch onto the corpse of his wife, and the fire multiplied and roared, orange flames leaping upwards toward the grey sky.

He then turned and started back for his house, Draco walking next to him. After a while, Lucius dropped Draco's hand, and they moved together, silently, as wizards and witches paid their final respects to the cremated body before going themselves back to Malfoy Manor for whiskey and warm food.

Lucius did not stop until he and Draco reached his office. He closed the door behind Draco, then dropped onto the red leather couch as if he himself were heavy and dead.

Draco removed his cloak, then hung it on the coat rack. He crossed the room before finally speaking.

"Can I take your coat, Dad?" he inquired, baritone voice pained.  Â

Lucius shook his head.

"You're covered in snow. You'll catch cold. You're as bad as me, catching cold easily," Draco said. "You know, Crabbe says -"

"It's a fault in the breeding." Lucius winced, hearing his own voice - similar to Draco's in tone, but soft and twisted with the same sort of pain.

"Really?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "I thought no ill could come from being a pureblooded wizard."

"We're inbred, Draco," Lucius said, staring down at his hands.

"How?" Draco asked.Â

Lucius replied, "We've been doing it for ten generations. Four families - including us - breeding amongst ourselves. To keep the Muggle blood away from our lines. We were five, but one family will die with your House Head."

"Snape's a handsome fellow. He'll sort himself out," Draco said almost too cheerfully. "What relation was Mum to you?"

"She was my second cousin." Lucius wondered briefly why he felt the need to discuss this subject at this time. "Our marriage was arranged, as you know, but we were fortunate that we could tolerate one another, and it wasn't as bad as some." He choked on his own words. Tolerated? How do I even begin to explain...Tolerated? The stars aligned in my favour when my father paid a vineyard in Italy for Narcissa to become mine.

"How old were you?" Draco reached forward, tugging at the fastening on Lucius's cloak.

"When the marriage was arranged?" Lucius's voice cracked dangerously, and he swallowed hard. "Eight or nine, I believe." He unfastened his own cloak, removing it, and casting it aside - more, hurling it to the floor.Â

Draco looked down at the cloak, then up to his father's face. "Have you arranged a marriage for me, Dad?"

"I have not." Lucius put a hand to his mouth. "Do you wish me to do that?"

Draco mused over this for a moment. As he did so, he picked up Lucius's cloak, brushed it off, and hung it up. "Yes. It would be best for the family."

"Good boy," Lucius whispered, his mind very far away from the place in which he sat. "Your Mum and I discussed you waiting for Wynde Snape to come of age - she's Professor Snape's niece, daughter of his brother."

"She lives in Australia. She's a kid," Draco pointed out.

"She's nine, and her mother is my cousin." The elder Malfoy closed his eyes. "That's the only match that I see possible. The Hanovers have begun to marry into tainted lines, and we know what that means. You'll have to do what I did not - be the father of more than one child."

"Sounds like fun to me," Draco replied. "Well, the creating of them, that is."

"Really, Draco," Lucius flinched, hardly caring about the insinuation. "Please at least keep your activities to girls of good families. We all realize that arranged marriages are equated with infidelity, but let's not be like the Hanovers, at least, some of them with Muggles as lovers."

"That's disgusting," Draco said. "I'd never get my end in a Muggle, or even a Mudblood -"

"And where did you learn that expression?" Lucius's voice softened. "That's revolting."

"All the boys say it," Draco shrugged. "Really, Dad. Sometimes you're quite square."

"Hardly," Lucius Malfoy replied. "You don't know a thing about me."

"True." Draco stared back at his father, the one word falling cold.

Lucius dropped his head into his hands. "It is the two of us now, isn't it?" He shivered. "I'll come to every one of your Quidditch games."

"You don't need to," Draco said.

"I don't have a schedule - send me one, will you?"

Draco said, "I've sent you two."

Lucius felt his entire soul begin to cave. "I will not discuss this with you now, Draco," he said, hands covering his eyes completely. "I...I need to be alone, but I'd like to have dinner tonight with you." He stood up quickly, going to the window of the study. The heavy red curtains were only partially drawn, and he could see the snow falling upon the wide manor lawn. "Here, in the study. Tell Knicker, will you? Something informal." Tears finally brimmed over, and he allowed them to fall without stopping them.

"Sure." Draco's voice sounded odd. "Dinner. When?"

"Six o' clock." Lucius could no longer see the snow - it was blurred in a world of his grief. "Go now. Have Knicker bring you a cup of chocolate and sit by the fire. You don't want to catch cold."

He waited until he heard the door shut. Then he reached out, a hand braced against one of the wood-paneled walls, and he began to sob. His entire body shook in spasms, and his free hand clutched in a fist to his mouth.

As quickly as his baritone rose in anguish, he quieted. Deep in the back of his mind, he sensed that he was not alone.

"Damn you, Draco," he growled. "Is this what you wanted to see?"

He turned slowly, revealing his pale tearstained face. Draco stood frozen against the door, his own visage tortured and cheeks wet.

"I'm glad we understand one another," Draco whispered.Â

Silence fell between father and son. Faintly, the sounds of weeping and quiet conversation filled the room  for a long moment - the torment of their guests in the parlor just below the study.

Then Lucius started to the door, but stopped in the center of the room. "Run along now, Draco," he said, his voice gentle.

"If that's what you didn't want me to see," Draco inquired, "then what use is it for me to leave?"

Lucius nodded wordlessly, then spoke after a long moment. "We should - we should make ourselves more presentable, then greet our guests. It's the proper thing to do."

Draco stared down at his shoes. Tears fell onto his black robes. "Right."

"You're allowed your tears," Lucius continued. "A man is socially allowed to weep once in his lifetime - and that is at the funeral of his mother."

"That's absurd," Draco said through his tears. "You lost your wife."

The elder Malfoy shook his head. "Yes. That doesn't change the rules, however. Not at all." He took a deep breath, and took a handkerchief out of his robes. He wiped his eyes, then the rest of his face. "Tomorrow, we will begin an investigation, you and I."

"Investigation?" Draco asked.

"Does a Malfoy sit and weep when he is wronged?" Lucius asked, handing the handkerchief to Draco. Draco blew his nose, then began to also clean his face. "No. We plot our revenge very carefully, and we do not fail in the precise execution of the event. No. We do not fail. We never fail."

And I didn't, Lucius Malfoy added silently as he lay in his bed. I left no trail. No evidence. I did not do what any of our Company would have; hiring someone else to do the research, the investigation, the revenge. I did all, and found the hitwizard that had done the job. A smile of triumph formed upon his lips. Muggles are filthy dogs, but that being said, sometimes their torture methods are the best way of conducting what one needs to do. There are times that magic - though superior - is too humane. I enjoyed myself thoroughly, as did my son. Ah, Draco, how precious you are, giving me that set of Muggle torture instruments for Christmas.

He sat up, crossing his arms around his body. And yet, he thought, when we have come so close, with our Lord rising in power, there is unrest. I can feel it. Somewhere in the universe the balance of power does not fall in my favour, and I will find out why.