Hello! So, before anyone gets mad, no, I am not done with Wrong Place at the Right Time...this just wouldn't leave me alone and I thought I'd share it with you. So enjoy the prologue!
Lucius was man who liked to pride himself in the fear his name brought. Malfoy. Once a name that commanded respect, one that instilled a certain amount of awe within people. A name that everyone knew and no one wanted to forget. It signified the epitome of the wealthy and influential and guaranteed the best out of life. But that was then, and this is now.
Lucius coughed and took a shuddering breath, body still aching from the last unforgivable's haunting caress. He pushed himself off the cold linoleum floor with trembling arms, his vision already twisting, morphing, and corrupting his thoughts. The darkness was slow, but persistent. It pushed upon his mind as he spotted Narcissa hiding in a corner (tears streaming down her face, stifled gasps squeezing through her diaphragm, her sleek blonde hair matted with dirt and sweat), and Bellatrix, kissing the Dark Lord's robes; sobbing, apologizing, preparing for the next attack.
He didn't stop to find out what would happen to Bellatrix, he had found who he was looking for, and, apparently, so had the Dark Lord. Lucius watched helplessly as his only son writhed on the ground in pain, face shining with blood and glass, his agony filled screams piercing the air.
The Dark Lord wasn't kind to failures, and his son had certainly failed many times. He winced as the screams continued, each one piercing his soul, tearing it to tiny shreds. He had known the day would come when the Dark Lord would punish his son for being unable to carry out his first task, but had simply locked it away in his mind, too afraid to think about it. Now, he figured, the time had come, and he wished he had told his son what to prepare for.
The looming darkness surrounding him got thicker, now spinning little webs across his pupils. He couldn't stand it, why wasn't the Dark Lord stopping? Surely his victim was unconscious by now…but then, why were there still screams? He wanted it to stop, he needed to stop, it was going to drive him mad.
This was just a nightmare that was all. He was going to wake up the next morning, panting, sweating, and a little afraid, but happy. Happy that his home wasn't currently the Dark Lord's hideout, happy that his own wife wasn't afraid to even go near him, and happy because his son would be safe at school and not tortured half to death in his very own living room.
But he knew, he knew, that this was no nightmare. And with the screams still ringing in his ears, the darkness finally engulfed him; his only thought being how he wished his name wasn't Malfoy.