Reminiscence
by: Niamh Wolfe
disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything related to it.
notes: Eh, plot bunny. I adore the Malfoys all and I wanted to write a Lucius piece. Initially he was in his study, thinking specifically about the second war, but I scrapped that idea and this emerged. I rather like it.
- Reminiscence -
Some wizards thought that Azkaban was a better place now, without the Dementors. More humane, they would say.
Lucius Malfoy disagreed.
When the Dementors ruled, it took less than a year for an average prisoner to lose himself. Now, you were left forever with all your memories, and Lucius found the combination of pleasant memories and dreadful to be the most painful punishment of all.
He remembered being a child desperate for his father's approval, striving to be worthy of his name. He remembered how proud his father was when Lucius did something right, how he would smile ever so slightly. He remembered striving to emulate his father in everything he did.
He remembered his sixth birthday party. His father had invited all the most powerful and influential wizards of the age. Lucius remembered the joy he felt as his father proudly introduced him to the Minister of Magic as the Malfoy heir.
He remembered the evening before he left to attend Hogwarts, how his mother came to him with a desperate warning that power was not everything; he cowered in his bed listening to her screams that night as his father beat her. He remembered wishing he had never told his father what she had said.
He remembered being Sorted into Slytherin, and the cheer that rose up from his new Housemates. He had felt a slight pang he felt as the Potter boy was Sorted into Gryffindor; they had gotten along so well when they were younger. Lucius had known that the House divide would be enough to kill any friendship that might have blossomed between them, however. At least Potter had seemed to be making acceptable alliances – Black, Pettigrew and Lupin. While they were not his favourite people, they were from reasonably well to do families.
He remembered when his father told him about a powerful wizard who would revolutionize the world. He remembered coming home from school to meet Lord Voldemort. He had believed that this man was the future.
He remembered his time at school. Exams, parties, friends and rivalries all combined into one happy memory. He found it difficult to remember the little things that had upset him so much during those years.
He remembered watching Potter sully himself and his name by marrying that filthy mudblood girl, Evans. He had been complaining to Severus about the disgrace of such a union when Severus had told him that Lupin was a werewolf. Two pureblood families ruined beyond repair, it seemed. Lucius remembered the urge to join Voldemort, to stop atrocities such as this from happening. He had asked Severus to accompany him.
He remembered the pain when he was Marked a Death Eater, tempered by the conviction that he was making the right decision. He remembered Severus at his side, supporting him silently and taking the Mark as well.
He remembered seeing Narcissa Black for the first time, a stunning young woman in an evening gown of blue, bearing no resemblance to her infuriating cousin. He remembered the look in her eyes when he asked her to dance, the feel of her slim body against his.
He remembered the night he proposed to her in the gardens of Malfoy Manor. He hadn't known what to say. He abandoned all his planned out speeches and simply whispered, "Will you be mine?" Her response shook him to his core, "I always have been."
He remembered their first night as man and wife, the awe that he felt as he looked at her delicate form. He had been so afraid that he might hurt her, running his hands gently over her breasts and hips, entering her carefully. He remembered the force in her eyes as she pulled his hips, guiding him into a violent rhythm. He remembered the responsibility he felt to care for this amazing being, the love that he felt overpower him as he released himself inside her.
He remembered the first war, the thrill of power, the knowledge that he was truly in the right. The faces of the people he killed, the sounds of their final pleas before his wand silenced them forever haunted his mind. He remembered the children's broken bodies, their snapped necks and slit abdomens. They weren't worthy of a magical death. Common muggle brats killed in common muggle manner. Lucius remembered the feel of small bones shattering in his hands.
He remembered learning that Narcissa was pregnant. His heart had filled with fear for his unborn child. It was his first flicker of doubt. He remembered thinking of all the purebloods Voldemort had killed for the slightest infraction.
And then Draco, how much he remembered Draco…the first time he held him; a tiny baby with perfect Malfoy features and Narcissa's clear grey eyes. He remembered the beautiful little hands with their ten beautiful little fingers, the wonderful pink cheeks. He remembered panicking when the infant had started to cry. Narcissa's amused laugh had soothed his fears as she delicately took Draco back from him.
He remembered the downfall. The trials had been hell for him, his closest friends being Kissed, the faint guilt when he was released on account of his lies. He also remembered his relief.
He remembered working to reestablish himself after the war, particularly with his family. He spent more time with Narcissa and their son than he ever had before. He remembered the time Narcissa was ill and he had spent a week as the primary caretaker of a three-year-old boy. He had been infinitely delighted by Draco's abundant energy and childish wit.
He remembered Draco's fascination with everything about him. One of his favourite memories was of finding Draco, four years old, in his bedchambers, wearing Lucius' finest robe, hair combed in perfect imitation of Lucius' own style. He remembered laughing often when Draco was about.
He remembered the first time Draco said "mudblood." It was at dinner when the boy was seven years old. Narcissa's had merely raised an eyebrow and taken a deliberate sip of her wine. He remembered the fear that coursed through him, fear for his precious son.
He remembered when he abandoned Draco and Narcissa emotionally. When he decided that his father was right, that power was more important than his wife and the blond angel they had sired. He remembered Narcissa's tears as he grew more and more distant. He moved her to a separate room to escape the emotions she brought forth in him.
He remembered sending Draco to Hogwarts, telling him that Slytherin was the only place for purebloods, for Malfoys. Telling him that power and blood were the only things that mattered, that friendship didn't exist. He remembered Draco's unwavering belief in everything he said.
He remembered Draco's weekly letters. He carefully read every one and saved it in an ornate filing cabinet for later perusal. He also remembered that he never responded.
He remembered seeing Potter for the first time. He remembered how he had longed for the boy's death, if only to rid himself of the reminder that James had once been his friend. He remembered hating the boy's eyes. They were not James's eyes.
He remembered the Dark Lord rising again. The pain as his long-dormant mark burned black against his flesh. He remembered the graveyard, seeing Potter stand against Voldemort so bravely. He had been impressed.
He remembered the Department of Mysteries. He remembered hoping to see James's spirit shine though Potter as it had at the graveyard. He had been severely disappointed.
He remembered being sent to Azkaban, but he didn't remember his stay there. Perhaps he had blocked the memory, perhaps the Dementors had damaged his mind. He did, however remember Voldemort releasing him at Draco's request.
He remembered seeing Draco Marked. He remembered feeling nothing as his son screamed in pain. He had merely watched.
He remembered the second downfall. He remembered sitting in the back at Draco's trial as Potter stepped forward. He remembered Potter's words, "He was a spy for the Order. We have been lovers for three years. He is innocent." He remembered how Draco looked away.
He remembered his own trial and sentencing. He remembered Draco sitting in the back of the room with Potter, face void of emotion. He remembered wishing he could tell Draco that he was sorry.
He remembered the Daily Prophet article announcing Draco's marriage to Pansy Parkinson; Potter had refused to comment. A few weeks later the Prophet had announced Potter's engagement to the Weasley girl; Draco also declined to comment. He had kept the picture of Potter and Weasley. She looked so happy; he looked so blank. He remembered his heart breaking, wondering what had driven the two young men apart. He remembered wondering if it had anything to do with him.
He remembered the single sentence in the obituaries announcing Narcissa's death at age 52, no funeral to be held. Lucius remembered crying.
He remembered wondering every day if Draco would ever come to visit. Draco never did.
Lucius Malfoy gazed tiredly out of his Azkaban cell, his life almost spent, dwelling on memories and wishing for death.
- Endless -