The Illustrated Death of Lucius Malfoy

EIGHT

Lucius's gloved finger slid along the spellotaped edge of a fold of iridescent wrapping paper. "I'm guessing this is a book," he mused in a low voice.

Draco, however, was not so elegant in his unwrapping of his next gift. "Dad - this is amazing." He drew a solid marble wizard's chess set from the torn paper, blue eyes quite wide.

"Do you like it? I assumed it would be time that you had yourself a decent set. That carved wood one you've had since you were a child." Lucius unfolded the paper, then tilted it, sliding a book into his hand. "Look at this. The Gravek Guide. I don't have this one." The book immediately began to howl loudly. "Well done, Draco."

"Good. I was hoping that you didn't." Draco opened the box and began to examine each of the pieces. The carved marble pieces immediately began to bow to their owner as he set them upon the board.

"This has been a good Christmas, then." Lucius set the Gravek Guide on top of a pile of similar books. "Shall we have a game, then, before tea?"

Draco looked over at his father, a smirk rising to pale lips. "You're on."

Lucius rose, pointing wordlessly to the crumpled wrapping paper upon the floor. Two house elves set to work, stacking the gifts, cleaning up the paper, and clearing the room of anything not normally belonging there. The middle-aged wizard crossed the room, removed his own wizard's chess set from a table, put it aside, and beckoned Draco to join him.

Draco set up the board, and they began to play quietly yet quickly, the mark of two men that did so often. Lucius noticed a faint determination in his son's eyes as he commanded his pieces. He's improved. He must play at school, Lucius thought. No sense in holding back... "King to D4," he said softly.

The King glared up at Lucius, but did as it was told.

"Knight to E5." Draco smirked as the knight reached its place. The piece then began to cheer wildly. "Check."

Lucius's expression matched his son's. Ah, boy, you placed your faith in the wrong pieces... He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned his head. Several owls swooped down on the manor, flying through the open window of Lucius's study. He turned back to the board. "Queen to A2. Checkmate," he replied dryly, rising from the table. The Queen took her position, then began to do a strange dance as the remaining pawn jumped up and down.

"You can't do that," Draco protested. "You're in check."

"And I'd have beaten you in the next move. Ask your pieces," Lucius replied. "I must see to the morning post."

"You just did an illegal move," Draco continued. "Come back here and play it out."

Lucius paused at the door, turning his head. He gazed at the near mirror-image of himself, staring back at him, observing how Draco's face twisted with annoyance. "Do you truly need to see how you will be beaten?" He inquired, voice crisp, consonants clipped.

Draco said nothing to this. However, blue eyes lit with a certain intensity. Fire. An understanding.

Lucius swept from the room, again in silence. His robes trailed on the stairs as he ascended them, going to his study. As was typical of every day, a small haphazardly-dropped pile of letters lay upon his desk. Shivering from the cold coming from outside, he walked over to the window and extended a gloved hand to pull it shut.

Just then, a barn owl flew into the room, wings beating furiously. It carried a large yet flat package in its beak. Lucius held out an arm, and it landed upon his sleeve. Extending another gloved hand, Lucius took the package from its beak. The owl hooted gratefully as Lucius examined the address printed upon the plain brown paper: To: Mr. Draco Malfoy, Malfoy Manor. From: M. Flitwick, Hogwarts Castle.

So. Flitwick has sent his inside information at last, Lucius mused. Let us see what he's found out about Hermione Granger. He idly began to pet the owl as he placed the package on top of the stack of letters. Carrying the owl to the large perch in the corner of his office, Lucius bent his arm a bit, allowing the owl to sit next to his own. The large eagle owl glared at the smaller, who immediately began to peck at a small plate of dead mice.

Forgetting about the open window, Lucius returned to his desk. A gloved thumb slipped under a fold of the brown wrapping paper, and he gently tore it open. A dark green file folder peeked out. Opening the file with both hands, Lucius found that, though the folder itself was a magical item, with the ability to seal piles and piles of papers, the papers within were of Muggle make. Copies. Lucius flipped through each one by one. A birth certificate dated 1956 - Jessica Marie Rubblestone. The girl's mother, Lucius noted quietly before he continued. Another birth certificate for a Tom Granger, dated the same year. And then another, printed with the name 'Hermione Jocasta Granger'. Lucius gave this only a brief glance before continuing his search. School records. Report cards indicating the highest marks. Medical records listing the childhood diseases Hermione had suffered.

And then his hand hit paper of a different quality. Stiffer, some of it with original watermarks. The damn fool stole some original documents, Lucius thought, casting a glare down at this new set of records.

These, however, took Lucius's interest immediately. He pulled them from the folder and spread them out on the desk. The first consisted of handwritten notes, which Lucius scanned down, then stifled a yawn. Psychoanalysis, treatment...So what if the girl's parents went into marriage counseling. The document below that bore an official seal. Declaration of commitment. Lucius gave this a more cursory glance. May 1980. The girl's mother was committed into a psychiatric hospital suffering from depression as the result of a trauma. I don't see what this has to do with Hermione at all. I'm going to that dwarf myself to demand that my money be refunded...

And then, both blue eyes fell on a report from the London Department of Police.

He dropped the commitment document and picked this up with both hands. Taken December 5, 1978, he noted. Why is that date in my mind? Oh, yes. That was the day after that large order meeting...

Suddenly, he found that he was looking up from the page. Something in his stomach began to smolder.

Just beyond the pile of mail sat the newspaper that Arthur had given him the day before, folded back and creased at the page that held Jessica Rubblestone-Granger's obituary. A hand shot out, knocking over a gilded cup of quills, but he did not notice as he seized the paper and looked at the picture again.

Merlin. It can't be.

Eyes returned to the police report, reading it more carefully than he had any document yet. As he read on, the burning within gripped in violent sickness. He was unaware that his hands had begun to tremble has he began a section that was titled 'witness statement':

They must have knocked me out...Because then I awoke lying on some kind of rock, tied to it. And there were two men wearing cloaks and hoods. One told the other that I was his gift to him. And then I heard chanting, some of it in Latin, and I heard the screams of both men and women. And one of the men climbed onto me, and his hood fell off, and I saw that he had long, white-blonde hair...

Lucius dropped the report and the newspaper as his heart began to pound wildly in his ears. Suddenly, he was running, fumbling blindly at a secret door on the wall, thrusting it open. Once inside of his private bathroom, he fell to his knees in front of the toilet and vomited violently.

I let her live...I let her live because she told me that she understood...That Muggle, that had no idea what her purpose was at the ceremony...she looked at me and said, "I understand." I wanted one Muggle, one of them, to know why the Death Eaters had to destroy them. After...I let her live...

His stomach heaved, and more of his Christmas breakfast came up. Tears dared emerge from his eyes, but he stuck his fist in his mouth, biting into the soft leather of his gloves. Rising from his knees, he leaned against the wall, pulse still quite loud in his ears.

Pull yourself together, Lucius, he thought. Now. You should have killed her then, but you were in a nonovarus-induced haze. You let yourself be swayed. Do not do it again. Now is not the time for emotion.

Kill the child.

Lucius allowed his hand to drop, and he stared blankly at the wall, allowing his thoughts to form.

You will confess to Voldemort what you have done. You will enlist your son's help. And you will kill that creature that never should have been born.

Moving to the wash basin, he removed his gloves, then splashed his face with cold water. Using a breath-freshening potion next, he deftly removed the ribbon in his hair and began to run a comb through his platinum-blonde locks.

Draco always said that she was brilliant. She knows. Yes, of course. She must know somehow that I'm...no. I will not think of her in those terms. She must be, then... Lucius paused in his thinking as he gathered his hair back into its ponytail. Of course. She's been stalking you. She was the one you saw in your hallucination last night. But how?

For the first time since he had entered his office, Lucius smiled. Time to up the ante, then. He glanced at himself in the mirror, and, satisfied with his reflection, he went out of the bathroom, closing the secret door behind him. Returning his gloves to his hands, he gathered the documents on the desk and placed them back in the file folder.

"Dad?"

Lucius looked up suddenly, and found Draco staring at him. "What is it?" He inquired in a voice rough with his own body's abuse.

Draco stepped forward in a gesture that seemed rather timid. Then, he smirked. "Did breakfast not agree with you?"

"It seems that I lack the constitution for soft-boiled eggs these days." Lucius closed the file and held it in one hand. "Look what's arrived."

"Is that from Flitwick's brother?"

Lucius nodded. Then, keeping it in his hand, he coolly crossed the room and closed the door. Pulling out his wand, he placed a silencing charm, then a locking charm on the door. Then, he went to the open window and did the same.

"Dad, you don't need that," Draco said in a voice that seemed even more frightened. "There are silencing wards on all of the outer walls of the manor house..."

"I have something to tell you. And I do not mean that we should be disturbed for any reason." Lucius returned to his desk chair, sinking into it slowly. He pointed his wand at a chair opposite. "Sit."

Draco took the offered chair in silence.

Lucius placed both arms on his desk, gazing at Draco for a moment before he spoke. "The one thing I have always asked of you is that you be completely honest with me. To be honest in some cases saves your life. This I have always taught you. Now, I wish to be completely honest with you. Bluntly honest. First, let me tell you about the Dark Lord." His eyes did not falter from the young face as he spoke. "In the early days of the Death Eaters, Voldemort searched for the most efficient ways of humiliating Muggles. To kill, as you know, can sometimes be rather...humane. He wanted them to remember that they were below us. What they had done to us. I and Severus Snape were but seventeen years old when we were initiated. Voldemort treated us as if we were his sons. He gave us great compassion as we served him. I felt as though he were the father I never had. You see, Draco, if you serve the Dark Lord without question, and please him, the rewards are tremendous." Lucius folded his hands. "I see in your eyes that you do not believe that I was young, once, like you. That I had desires wrapped in the confused mind of a boy. My Master gave me gifts often because I served him very well. Before I graduated, I had participated in many, many attacks. I killed more Muggles before I was your age than you will ever, likely."

Draco did not flinch nor fidget. He only listened quietly, not once diverting his gaze.

"Your mother was well aware of who I was when she married me. She had seen my Mark. She knew that when the Dark Lord requests, you do not say no. When Voldemort gives a gift, you do not refuse it," Lucius continued. "These things you will soon learn. As I said, in those days, he took great delight in experimenting with forms of torture. Some of this he taught us. Some of them were quite Mugglish, but we did not question it. One night, when I was not that much older than you, the Dark Lord gathered his favourite young men into a room where there was a Muggle woman, bound and gagged. And he encouraged us to torture her. But after awhile, he became bored, and asked us to do more to her than cast hexes upon her body. I remember that it took me a moment to understand, but Lestrange knew immediately what Voldemort was asking, and did it with great glee." His voice darkened, as did his gaze, as memory of fire and pain flashed through his own memory.

"I don't want to hear this, Dad." Draco leaned forward, shaking his head. "I don't care what you did -"

"We did not think of it as sullying our bodies in those days, but taking power away from those that took it from us. Some of the young men did it to other men - I did not." Lucius stopped short as Draco suddenly rose, walking over to a window. "I did, however, do so to several women. Most of them died shortly afterwards. I...in a moment of lapsed judgment, allowed one to go free."

"I know." Draco said softly, his back to Lucius.

The older Malfoy rose from his chair slowly. "And how do you know?"

He saw his son begin to tremble, but the moment quickly passed, and the young man took a deep breath. "I know that you made a child with a Muggle."

Lucius felt one of his hands involuntarily squeeze into a fist, but his face remained stony, even though Draco could not see it. "And how do you know this?"

"Granger knows. She got a sample of your hair. She began to suspect it all when she found out from Potter that you were...you are..." Draco trailed off, his voice cracking.

Yes. She knows too much. "I see." Lucius flexed the fingers of the hand that had clenched tightly. "Did she threaten you? Tell you that she'd take this information to the Ministry?" Draco nodded silently. "Then why did you not tell me?"

"I was going to trick her. Going to lead her to Voldemort." Draco said, his tone quiet and deliberate. "I was going to have her killed."

Lucius smiled. Good boy. I should have never doubted him. But then, the moment faded with his grin. I might as well level the pitch. "You knew that Severus Snape was a spy, did you not? Draco, why did you keep this from me, also?"

"I planned on telling you when I had proof." Draco turned around, his posture very tall, and Lucius was a bit surprised to see that Draco was not crying.

"Ah." The smile returned. "I am...very pleased, despite the fact that your method does need some work." He stepped forward, placing a hand upon Draco's shoulder. "First things first. It is time to correct a gross error in my judgment. Will you help me?"

Draco nodded. "Of course, Dad."

"Excellent. I'm going to write two letters. One you must deliver to the Dark Lord, along with Flitwick's file." Lucius massaged the shoulder that he held. "You can get to the Dark Lord by tapping your Dark Mark with your wand and saying 'sumino dominus'. Will you do this for me?"

"Yes, Dad."

The older wizard patted the shoulder, then removed his hand. "I realise that hearing these things must be very upsetting for you, is it not? But action is what will clean up the mess that has been made. If we move quickly, we can end this unpleasant situation tonight." Lucius returned to his desk, sitting at it. He retrieved a quill, then a clean envelope, which he addressed to 'Miss Hermione Granger' with a flourish of his pen. "Draco, would you do something that would please me greatly?"

Draco remained by the window. "What?" He asked, trepidation creeping into his voice.

Lucius began to fill a page with his bold handwriting. "Would you kill the Granger girl for me in the name of the Dark Lord?"

Draco cleared his throat. "Yes, Dad."

"But would you also kill the girl and in your mind, do it in my name? In the name of pureblood and the power within?" He paused for a moment, added a few words, and folded up the letter with a deft gesture, inserted it into an envelope, and sealed it with wax.

"Of course."

Lucius stuck out his arm, glancing at the eagle owl. It clucked and flew across the room, landing upon Lucius's robed sleeve. He swept over to a window, gave the letter to the owl, then unlocked the window with a flourish of his wand. Opening the window with a flattened palm, Lucius watched as the owl leapt into the air and took flight. The barn owl soon followed.

"Good. For someday, a pureblooded Lord may sit in Voldemort's place." Lucius crossed back to the chair, and once returning it, began a new letter. My Lord and Master...

Draco returned his wand to his robes and opened his eyes, faintly wondering if 'sumino dominus' was a spell. And furthermore, if it was a spell that the Ministry would be able to take note of.

He stood before what appeared to be some sort of construction site. It appeared as if a building had been leveled completely, then the remains carted away. No grass grew, nor did any trees or plants upon the wide plane. Nothing was there - nothing but a dirt-filled hole.

Shivering, he stepped forward, and then every hair upon his body tingled. A barrier, he thought. It seems to be accepting me... He took another step, and suddenly his surroundings changed. A castle of incredible height stood above him, its towers stretching to the very skies. Not a window looked out from any of its obsidian walls - only one single door that itself was several stories high.

"Who goes there?" An unseen voice hissed. It seemed to be coming from all around Draco.

"Draco Malfoy," the young man replied in a bold voice. "I bring a letter for my Master."

Silence, and then the voice answered, "Follow the green flames to the antechamber. Stray from that and your safety cannot be guaranteed." And then, silence again.

Courage, he thought.

Then as he took a step, his heart fell. What am I doing? I told Hermione that I would ally myself with her...

And, as if he had gained another personality, another voice overlapped within his mind. Since when have you ever been honest with anyone but yourself? Dad has his faults, but nothing has been done in the name of anything less than a noble cause.

But what if he's truly split against Voldemort? Where does that leave me?

Draco forced his thoughts to quiet, and he continued into the darkness of the castle. Seeing two green flames shooting up from the floor before him, he walked between them, and continued into the unknown. He passed between another set, and saw more up ahead.

The man that sat on a bench in Hyde Park did not draw a single stare, despite the fact that he had very long, platinum blonde-hair and wore a cloak rather than a coat. Dressed simply in a black shirt and trousers, he almost fit in with the Muggles that milled about, though in numbers they were few. A light snow had begun to fall, and the air had a distinct chill to it.

Lucius sat, staring, watching the Muggles as they passed. One gloved hand closed around the head of his cane, which rested next to him.

He felt someone sit next to him, and smelled some sort of citrus perfume. He did not need to turn his head nor look out of the corner of his eye to see who joined him.

"I see you got my message," Hermione Granger said.

"And I see you got mine," Lucius Malfoy replied.

Silence fell. Blue eyes were fixed on the automobiles nearby, while brown ones watched the snow fall.

Finally, Lucius said, "What is your price, Miss Granger?"

"Draco Malfoy, welcome." Voldemort's thin lips turned up in a sneer. "I understand that you have a letter for me."

The young man knelt before the throne and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes. "Yes, Master." Keeping eyes diverted from the snakelike ones that stared down at him, he held up the envelope, which was quickly snatched away with deft fingers.

"Ahhh...And what does your father have to say?" Voldemort snapped open the seal, drew out the sheets of expensive stationary, and began to read.

Slowly, the deformed face began to darken, then outright frown. Draco slowly began to back up. Merlin, what have I done? Voldemort's likely to kill the messenger, and then I'll be the one suffering.

He was surprised then, when Voldemort flicked out a hand in a strange gesture. "Pettigrew, take Young Malfoy into the west corridor." The Dark Lord sneered as he looked down at Draco. "I must ponder a reply, then write a letter to your father. You will be summoned when I'm finished." The hand turned toward Draco, fingers outstretched. "Dormio," he hissed.

Draco very suddenly lost consciousness, as if he were a light that had been shut off.

Hermione reached into her coat and pulled out a wizarding magazine, which immediately caught Lucius's attention, and he finally turned his gaze toward her. She opened it, a gloved finger scanning down a list of names.

"Let's see...Out of the one hundred most wealthy wizards in the world, you are number...yes, here you are. Fifty-three. Very impressive."

"Name your price," Lucius repeated.

Hermione shut the magazine, tucking it back into her robes. "Fifty million galleons for my silence," she said in a flat voice.

Lucius sighed. "Being greedy will not bring your mother back."

"You dare speak of my mother when you raped her." Hermione's voice firmed, gaining volume.

"Tell me then, what your life is worth," Lucius snarled, blue eyes two flames. "I gave you that."

Hermione remained stone-faced. "Tell me what yours is worth, Mr. Malfoy. I turn my evidence over to the Ministry, and you will have a long fall with a terribly hard stop at the end."

"I have claimed Imperius. You do not know at all the circumstances of those years, Miss Granger," He snapped.

"You may not go to Azkaban, but can you suffer what will happen to the Malfoy name?" She inquired.

"Five million." Lucius had the sudden appearance of a wild animal. "Paid over five years."

"Thirty over fifteen. I am an orphan, Mr. Malfoy. You saw to that."

"I will never acknowledge you. Ten."

Hermione stood up suddenly, face wracked with rage. "I don't want your acknowledgment or your family name. Fifteen over fourteen. One million galleons up front. My final offer."

Lucius also stood, though his visage lost venom as he did so. Towering over the young woman, he had the sudden appearance of a glacier rising over flame. "I will open an account for you at Gringotts in your name. You will find one million galleons there tomorrow morning. You will not speak to me or my son ever again. You do so, and you will regret it. I want all of your evidence on my desk tomorrow morning or the bargain is not made."

"Is that a threat?" A laugh stuck in Hermione's throat. "Or are you frightened, Mr. Malfoy?"

Lucius Malfoy said nothing. He turned, heading for an empty alleyway from which to Apparate away. His black cloak trailed in the pale air as he headed for the street.

Draco awoke suddenly, aware that a potion was being forced down his throat. He coughed and sputtered, but hands closed over his nose and mouth, cutting off all breath. He choked, struggled, and when the black world became even blacker, finally swallowed, then gasped for air.

His mind became clear, and then he felt incredibly peaceful.

A dim light entered his awareness, and he saw Voldemort standing above him. Peter Pettigrew stood next to the Dark Lord, grinning and rubbing his hands together.

"What is your name?" Voldemort inquired in a voice that sounded incredibly gentle.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy," Draco replied, having no control over his mouth.

"How old are you?" The Dark Lord knelt down next to him.

"Eighteen." Draco struggled to stop his moving lips, but could not.

Voldemort nodded to Pettigrew. "I see that your abilities with truth potions have not failed yet. Excellent."

"Yes, Master. Thank you, Master," Pettigrew whined, bowing low.

"Bring me a chair, Pettigrew, while I question the boy." Voldemort folded withered hand over hand as Pettigrew disappeared from his vision.

Draco tried to move his limbs, but could not. Willing one finger, one toe to move, he found that they were simply not there. Then the terms of his bindings hit him with full force. I'm not bound, I'm paralyzed. Dad. Save me, Dad...

Pettigrew arrived with a stool, and Voldemort sat upon it. "Now, let us see how powerful your potion is, Pettigrew. Draco, my dear boy, are you faithful to me?"

Draco sputtered, and was suddenly aware of a copper taste in his mouth.

"I see," Voldemort replied. "Divided loyalties, have we?"

"Yes, Master," Draco answered, coughing as he did so.

The Dark Lord continued, "You love your father as much as you do me, do you?"

Draco felt a chill run across both of his cheeks. "Yes, Master."

"Ah. We have a liar on our hands. That is, he lied in a Dark Ceremony, which is the worst of crimes, certainly. No matter. I have, as the Muggles say, bigger fish to fry." Voldemort retrieved his wand from a hidden pocket, and began to idly wave it about. "Your father isn't very pleased with me right now, is he?"

"No, Master."

Voldemort leaned over Draco's prone form, placing elbows on his hidden knees. "He's plotting to overthrow me, is he not?"

Draco's words twisted with a sob. "Yes, Master."

"I thought so." Voldemort gazed down at his wand. "I've suspected as such for a long time. It does happen every once in awhile with wizards as powerful as your father." The Dark Lord sighed, reptilian face tinged with regret. "Well, I suppose then that you know what I must do."

The young man said, quietly, "Yes, Master."

"You have a choice in the matter, of course." Voldemort pointed his wand at Draco. "Finite Incantatem."

The life returned to Draco's limbs. He sat up suddenly, palms against the filthy floor, though his arms and legs trembled madly. He fought to control them. What have I done? He thought wildly. What have I done?

The Dark Lord hunched over entirely, snakelike eyes meeting blue ones. Draco could fell Voldemort's very breath upon his face. "I find it rather ironic that some twenty-five years ago I had this same conversation with your father. Octavian Malfoy, as you may or may not know, was one of the first Death Eaters. A dear friend, and as he saw the power that I gained, the power within me, he agreed to follow me. But he grew greedy. His thoughts were spoiled. He found it more interesting to torture his own son than to keep his mind on the task at hand. So, when your father entered my order, I asked him to prove his worth. Do you know what I asked him to do, Draco?"

"No, Master." He most certainly did know, but barred the very thought from his mind.

"I asked Lucius to prove his love for me by killing Octavian. Right in my audience chamber." Voldemort smiled, showing two rows of rotten teeth. "Do you love me, Draco Malfoy?"

"I do, Master." Draco felt his heartbeat slow within his chest.

"Would you kill your father for me, Draco Malfoy?" Voldemort inquired.

Draco said, "I would, sir."