The Illustrated Death of Lucius Malfoy

NINE

Lucius stormed into Malfoy Manor, throwing his cloak from his shoulders. He issued a might kick to a House Elf who stood in his way. The creature screamed as it crashed into a wall.

"Draco! Get down here now!" Lucius roared up the main staircase.

"Master - Master Draco is not home..." The House Elf wailed, trying to get to its feet.

Lucius turned upon the creature, anger wracking his pale visage. "Where...is...he?" Words spoken slowly. Deliberately. Each with great fire.

"He has not come home since Master sent him to deliver his letter!" The cowering elf squealed.

Lucius stopped short. Where is Draco? He wondered. Perhaps the Dark Lord had him run an errand. "Draw me a bath and lay out my traveling clothes. The paisley vest and the black frock coat. And I want a glass of rum. I don't care which one of you does what." He headed up the stairs toward his study.

"Sit there, Draco," Voldemort said, gesturing at the edge of the dais upon which the throne stood. "Are you hungry?"

After what I am about to do, I will never live again, Draco thought. "No, Master." He did as he was told, sitting upon the dais. Voldemort took to his throne.

"We are to have a guest. Won't that be fun?" Voldemort reached down, laying a hand upon Draco's head. He could not suppress a shudder as the Dark Lord did so. "You heard Lucius and I speaking...if you could call it 'speaking'...of the Muggleborn spy I have acquired. She's got some new information for me, and you'd be quite interested in hearing it. Since you've been most...cooperative today, you will stay here with me and listen."

"As it pleases you, Master." Death. I wish he would kill me now. Draco stared straight ahead at the line of green flames that led off into the darkness.

"Has your father taught you the Killing Curse?" Voldemort continued to pet Draco as if he was a lap dog.

"Yes, Master."

The Dark Lord continued, "And can you cast it? Have you killed another with it?"

"I have only killed animals with it, Master. Never a wizard." If only I could kill myself...

"Well, then. Consider this an inaugural evening." Voldemort withdrew his hand, placing it on the arm of the throne. "Eventually, your father will wonder what I've done with you. And he'll come straight to me. It's only a matter of time before he begins to worry. You see, Draco, Octavian hated Lucius, but Lucius loves you. It's pitiful, really, not even the least bit touching. He'd die for you in a second, throw himself in front of any curse. Your downfalls are his. Do you know that when you were born, he held you the entire night?" Draco looked up at the Dark Lord, but Voldemort's eyes were elsewhere. "Yes. Lucius watched you sleep. He fed you. He wouldn't even allow your mother near you for days. She cried. Begged to be allowed to see her baby. But he watched over you like a hawk."

A lump formed in Draco's throat. "I had no idea."

"Of course you didn't. Your mother, you see, feared your father. She made sure that she stood between you two. But Lucius would have never harmed you. He'd have harmed himself first. It is so rare to see such a deep bond between a father and a son. Do you remember when the hippogryff bit you when you were younger? Lucius locked himself in his secret chamber and broke some of his precious artifacts. I spied on him. I watched him. Your mother had to stop him from killing that hippogryff himself."

Draco said nothing to this, but his head was full of thoughts. I could run. I would run in vain, because Voldemort would kill me before I reached the end of this room. But I will not have died in vain. No...No...Dad will worry, and he'll come after me. And he'll find me dead just before Voldemort kills me. What have I done? I've signed Dad's death sentence. I have delivered him from Azkaban to die at the hands of the Dark Lord.

"Ah, but all will be over soon. Now you will be the Master of Malfoy Manor. Do me a favour, my dear boy. Breed quickly. Your father waited far too long to marry and get himself an heir. It will be better, while you're young, you know."

Silence fell across the chamber. Young man nor Dark Lord said any more for nearly two hours. Yet within Draco's head, his heart pounded, and his thoughts were as loud as thunder.

Lucius buttoned the paisley waistcoat with deft fingers. "My traveling cloak, quickly." Glancing out the window, he saw that the sun had begun to set.

Voldemort has killed Draco, Lucius thought wildly, turning to look at the clock on the mantelpiece of his bedchamber. The hand that held Draco's name was pointed to 'Unknown', but did not sit limply next to Narcissa's hand. A house elf finished polishing Lucius's boots, and placed them next to a chair as he sat.

I should not have sent the boy. A mistake that may have placed my son in mortal peril... Lucius suddenly felt his throat go tight, and his heart race. I must save my son. He felt two house elves slide the boots onto his feet, each deftly lacing them. Another set of hands threw his cloak over his shoulder, and he quickly attached both of the large silver snake pins to his frock coat. Two elven hands pulled his ponytail out from beneath the layers of wool.

"If someone should inquire, tell them that I have gone looking for Draco and say no more, if you value your lives," Lucius snarled at the three house elves. He stood, sweeping from the room.

As he reached the staircase that led to the front door, he paused halfway down. He turned, gazing at the portrait of the wall.

The portrait had once hung over their living room fireplace, now living in a location that it would be noticed by Lucius and Draco frequently, but less by guests. The portrait was of Narcissa the year that she had married Lucius. She wore a gown of silver and carried a small bouquet of forget-me-nots. The portrait giggled, tilting her head forward in a girlish manner as she did so. She waved at Lucius.

Lucius placed both hands on the banister. He did not wave back. "What would you do?" He mumbled instead.

The portrait did not answer. She only raised the bouquet to her nose, inhaling deeply.

The words left his lips before he could even retract them. "I miss you, Narcissa," Lucius said softly.

She raised her head, blue eyes shining over the top of the bouquet. Lips turned up in a smile.

Lucius turned, and his cloak floated on air as he descended the staircase once again.

Draco rose from his reverie, eyes focusing on a figure heading toward the throne, walking between the flames.

"Ah, my dear," Voldemort stood up, extending his arms in a gesture that Draco had never seen from the Dark Lord before. "Thank you for coming."

As the figure drew closer, Draco saw that it was cloaked from head to foot. "Is he coming?" The figure inquired in a voice that, to Draco, sounded very familiar.

"Oh, yes." Voldemort seemed to purr somewhat. "I can feel his anger from across the country. Do you have that information I requested?"

"Yes, Master." Draco saw that the figure carried some sort of tube. "Plans of Parliament, all of the floors. I told them I was working on a school project."

"Very good, my dear." Voldemort sat back in his throne. "Pettigrew will take those from you. We'll go over them later, shall we?" The short man slipped out a shadow and took the tube from the cloaked figure. "And Pettigrew, do take Miss Granger's cloak, won't you?"

Draco heard his own laughter before he was aware that he laughed. It was painful. Twisted. And as he stood, he felt the last vestiges of sanity leave him completely, as if washing away from him like a wave from the shore. Hermione removed her cloak, handing it to Pettigrew. She stared at Draco.

"What is so funny, brother?" She asked, lips turning up in the strangest of smiles.

"I just want to know," Draco said, his peals reducing to chuckles. "How did you do it?"

"You see, Draco, your sister is quite...persistant." Voldemort also looked at the young man with a great deal of amusement. "She acquired a Dormio cap and used it to contact me with the news that she was Lucius's only daughter. You see, even in this form I require rest, and I still have the odd dream on occasion. In one of these dreams, she pledged her loyalty to me - from one Halfblooded witch to a Halfblooded wizard - and told me that she could prove that Lucius was trying to overthrow me if I so desired."

"You lied to me." Draco said in utter disbelief.

"I never lied," Hermione replied. "I said that I am on your side. And I am." She stepped up the dais and knelt before the throne, kissing Voldemort's withered hand. She stepped back, then rose to full height. "I did this for the children of Lucius Malfoy, who suffered because of his plague in this world. And soon we'll be freed of him."

"Come now, Draco. Don't make me put you under the Imperius Curse. You've been a great deal of help to me. Both of you have. Lucius should be arriving soon - ah. Yes. He's just apparated to my doorstep. Come, Hermione. Stand on my right side." Voldemort gestured with an outstretched hand. "Draco, think on it. I have given you nothing but love."

"You said my father loved me." Draco stood tall, facing the path of green flames.

"But has he ever treated you as if he did? No, my dear boy." Voldemort shook his head as he spoke.

"Lucius Malfoy was careless," Hermione said in a flat voice. "He will be punished."

"Think on all of those lonely nights in your room," Voldemort continued, as if he and Hermione shared the same thoughts. "All of those nights that you starved for crimes that you did not commit as you listened to your father and mother act as husband and wife. Did you ever want to kill your father?"

Draco did not answer. How did he know? How would he know that...

Within his head came the answer. Hermione. I told her that story. She told him everything. Everything that we discussed. Every detail. Draco turned his eyes to the girl that stood on the other side of the throne. You sold me. You used me to gain vengeance on my father. You will never get away with this. Never.

"And now," Voldemort said as a tall figure came into view. White-blonde hair appeared green under the strange, magically-enhanced light, "You have your chance, it seems."

Lucius came into full view as he stepped into the doorway of the audience chamber, cloak snapping as he did so. Blue eyes went from Draco, to the Dark Lord, and then to Hermione. "What is the meaning of this?" He said softly.

Voldemort raised his hand. "Accio cane," he said in a very bored voice.

Lucius jerked as his snake cane was torn from his hands. Voldemort caught it, then turned, handing it to Draco. "I believe this is yours, by right," Voldemort said.

Draco looked down at the cane in his hand. My father's last vestige of his wizardhood...now gone from him...he's defenseless... Draco looked up at Lucius. Merlin...what have I done...

"Master," Lucius began. "Let's discuss -"

"The time for talk is over." In an instant, the Dark Lord's wand was in his hand. "Crucio."

Lucius crumbled to the ground, but did not scream. Instead he jerked as if in a severe seizure, limbs twitching, his head banging against the ground.

Hermione stepped forward, watching the twitching wizard with apparent great interest. Voldemort rose from his throne.

And Draco stood still, staring back down at the cane in his hand.

Voldemort raised his wand, and Lucius let out a sharp exhalation of breath, but did not move. "You've been most naughty, my dear boy. Did you not think I would not find out about your scheme to overthrow me? You've always thought much of yourself...But this...I'm afraid, will cost you dear."

Draco felt the cold snake-head within his palm, and he finally was able to break gaze with its emerald eyes. He found that Lucius had raised his head, and looked not at Voldemort, but directly at him.

"Answer me!" Voldemort roared. "Imperio!"

"I..." Lucius's eyes rolled to the back of his head, and his entire body resumed twitching.

"He's fighting it," Hermione hissed. "Let me cast the Cruciatus Curse on him, my Master."

"No." Draco said quietly. "Don't play with him. Let him die."

Voldemort raised his wand, and Lucius fell limply again. The Dark Lord turned around, gazing at Draco. "I see. End it, then? As you wish."

Hermione stepped back to the dais, still staring at the wizard upon the ground. "He tortured my mother for hours. I want his torture to be the same!"

"This is no longer your vengeance to be had, Granger," Voldemort hissed. "And I'm growing quite tired of two children and their lack of respect. Imperio. Imperio."

Draco jerked as the curse hit him, but suddenly the feelings within him washed away. He could hardly feel the cane in his hand.

"Raise your wands, Hermione and Draco...No, Draco, actually, use your father's wand."

Draco's vision blurred as he felt himself draw the wand from within the cane - a dark magic wand, without a doubt.

"That's it. Now, point them at Lucius, now. Yes. Very good." Voldemort's voice was very soothing.

"Master," Hermione's voice shook. "I...My Killing Curse is not powerful enough...it won't kill him...Maybe put him in a deep coma..."

"Which is why you will both kill him," Voldemort replied.

Lucius slowly got to his knees. Draco saw him throw his head back, despite the fact that the elder Malfoy's limbs still twitched somewhat. Placing both gloved hands on the ground, he rose completely, standing very tall. He took a deep, audible breath, and threw his shoulders back.

The blue eyes of the Malfoy patriarch rested on Voldemort for a moment, then turned directly to Draco. Father and son stood, gazes locked.

"Any last thoughts, my dear Lucius?" Voldemort inquired in a rather amused voice.

"Yes," Lucius Malfoy whispered, not to the Dark Lord, but to Draco, his son. Visage appeared to have no fear, no love - only cold, distant pride. "Checkmate." Pale lips formed the word, and then he merely smiled.

One lone tear dropped down Draco's alabaster cheek.

Voldemort made a violent gesture with his wand.

"Avada Kedavra," Hermione and Draco said in unison.

At Narcissa's funeral, flame had been applied by torch, as had been tradition through the centuries despite the fact that wizards had better ways of setting corpses aflame. The figure of Lord Voldemort that stood near the pyre did not do the same. He raised a hand, and the pyre roared with bright orange fire, immediately licking about the swaddled corpse that lay atop the pile.

Draco's head allowed him no thoughts. He stood silently, aware of the fire, aware of Hermione standing next to him. He had not spoken to her since Voldemort himself had carried Lucius's corpse to a pyre behind the castle. The Dark Lord summoned a black cloth, covered the body, and then set it aflame.

"What now, my Lord?" Hermione murmured, breaking the silence.

Voldemort turned, facing the two of them at last. Behind him, flames rose high into the air. "Granger, I am most pleased with the work you have done."

"Thank you, my Lord." She bowed her head.

Draco saw Voldemort draw his wand with such speed, that it did not occur to him to scream out. Yet he would not be likely to have done so if he could. For he saw the Dark Lord's intention, and was not surprised when the curse left the wizard's withered lips: "Avada Kedavra"

Hermione fell to the ground, and stirred no more.

Draco stared dumbly at her body, watching the December wind play with her hair. He saw two withered hands gather her body into robe-clad arms, and watched as Voldemort turned around, tossing her corpse upon the pyre. Immediately, the scent of burnt hair and flesh became even the more pungent.

"She outlived her usefulness," Voldemort hissed.

Draco turned his back to the pyre. "She could have brought you more information from the Muggles, my Lord." Words spoken with emotion, now. He felt nothing.

Reptilian eyes peered down at him. "The plot to assassinate the members of Parliament was a test, Draco. A test of your father's faith and that of other Death Eaters. Oddly enough, it was my Captain that failed dismally."

Draco stared at the ground. "I see. And Hermione?"

"I knew that she would bring Lucius to me. That she would encourage you to kill him - all in ways that I could never imagine," Voldemort said in a low voice. "You, however, passed your test, my boy. Not with high marks, mind you. But you will do. Go, now. Go home and put your father's affairs in order. I will find one of my less needed lieutenants and will erase his memory, then will have it known that he killed your father, and later Miss Granger. He'll go to Azkaban, and you will be the wronged orphan and Lord of the Manor. Go home and await word. You will know when it comes."

"Thank you, Master," Draco said bluntly.

He heard something heavy fall upon the ground. "This portkey will take you home," Voldemort said quietly. "I will summon you when you are needed. Do not expect to hear from me for awhile." Draco saw a sweeping of robes as the Dark Lord brushed past him, and went back into the castle.

Draco tilted his head, and saw that a silver goblet lay upon the ground. Looking over to the pyre for only a moment, he saw what remained of Hermione's corpse - now blistered flesh and mauled muscle. She lay across Lucius's swaddled body, which itself had only begun to burn. A sob rose within him, but he stilled it, instead reaching for the portkey that lay upon the ground. He felt a jerk as he rose, was transported, and then landed on the front lawn of Malfoy Manor.

He opened his hand, and the portkey fell to the ground. Blue eyes scanned the grounds. All was quiet as death, death had entered the world at midnight and swept upon the soul of Draco Malfoy like a hurricane.

And left the young man forever scarred.

Cane in hand, he swept up the walkway, and into the manor house. The House Elf that usually stood guard of the door was nowhere to be seen. Draco, however, did not remove his cloak. He stood in the doorway instead, his breathing slowing, ears searching for any sound.

Silence reigned over Malfoy Manor.

He turned up his head to look at the Grandfather clock that stood in the hall. It stood still now. Hands nor balances stirred, and the ticking filled the room no more, as it once had.

Bare hand closed around the head of the snake cane, gripping it. Suddenly, he found himself running, running up the stairs, his robes floating and whispering as he went into Lucius's study.

Dad's study no longer, Draco thought. My study.

He stood in the center of the room. Light from a silver disk of a moon streamed through both of the uncurtained windows. Draco saw only blue and silver and black - a new world of his own creation. No fire lit upon the hearth, nor did he hear the stirring of the feet of the servants. As he moved across the polished wood floor, no footfalls rose, nor could the cane's tapping upon the ground be heard. Inhaling, the sound shattering the solitude, he turned both blue eyes to the portrait hanging above and behind the great desk.

The portrait hung in such a secluded place perhaps with good reason. It was a live-size portrait of Lucius and Narcissa, painted only a few years previous. Usually, the two figures within cautiously watched those going about the room, occasionally bending their heads to make a few quiet remarks to one another. Despite the late hour, Draco did not find the portrait figures asleep, but instead discovered them in one another's arms. Lucius's chin rested on the top of Narcissa's head, and they clasped one another tightly. Her face could not be seen, as it was buried between neck and waterfall of her husband's hair.

Draco cast his eyes to the desk, and the sight of Lucius's Last Will and Testament caught his eye. He moved, still in silence, to the executive chair and sat, the piece of furniture offering squeak nor groan. He picked up the will with bare fingers and scanned it quickly.

In the time of my death, I do bequeath to Draco Lucius Malfoy, my only son and heir, my entire fortune...

Draco dropped the will onto he desk as tears began to blur his vision. Seeing a folded white handkerchief upon the corner of the desk, he reached for it, and his hand brushed by a pile of black leather. Instead of taking the handkerchief, he retrieved the pile of leather, discovering it to be a pair of his father's gloves.

He took them into both hands, caressing them with his thumbs for a long moment. When he could resist the temptation no longer, he raised the gloves to his face, inhaling deeply. The scent of leather and aftershave and tears overtook him, and he found himself pulling the gloves onto his hands. They fit him as if they had been made for him.

Lucius killed Octavian at Voldemort's command, he thought, staring down at his hands. I killed Lucius at Voldemort's command. Will my son do the same to me? Strike me down when I outlive my usefulness? Kill me when I stand in his way on the path to the Dark Lord?

Draco rose, retrieving the cane. I killed my father. He wanted the world for me. And I killed him when I found first fault. He swept across the room, going to a full-length mirror. He gazed within.

A man stared back at him that Draco recognized, but not as being himself. White blonde hair tamed into a ponytail. Rich robes and waistcoat beneath a thick black cloak. Cane in gloved hand. I have become my father. The transformation is complete.

Draco returned to the desk chair, and there he sat. He rested his elbows upon the desk, and placed his head in his hands. The emptiness consumed him.

THE END