Author's Note: This will be a multi-chapter story.
Additional Author's Note: There are references to several of my other stories.
The Dementors did not take long to sense their presence.
Lucius drew his wand as several Dementors glided in his direction.
The blond-haired wizard did not consider, even for a moment, using the Patronus Charm as a form of defense. For one thing, all of his happy memories were tainted by tragedy. For another thing, he did not believe in love. In fact, he hated that word with a passion.
The Dementors drifted even closer.
Lucius gritted his teeth with determination as he pointed his wand at the creatures. He would not allow the painful memories of his past to overwhelm him. He was stronger than that.
"Imperio," Lucius hissed.
At first, the Dementors tried to resist. However, Lucius had always considered himself a master at the Imperius Curse. Out of all the three Unforgivable Curses, the Imperius Curse was the one that he had experimented with the most.
Most wizards and witches thought that the Imperius Curse could only be used against other humans and perhaps against certain types of animals, but Lucius had refused to believe that was the case. Total control over everyone and everything was something that he had long sought, and that goal had been one of the few things in his life that both his father and the Dark Lord had encouraged and supported.
Lucius allowed himself a slight smile of satisfaction as he felt the Dementors bend to his will. They stopped to look at him, waiting for him to command them.
"Get back from me," Lucius ordered. "Move away from the prison."
The Dementors were quick to obey.
"Very impressive, Lucius," the Dark Lord breathed from behind him. "I am relieved to see that you have not completely lost your touch after all the years that you have spent pretending to be a respectable citizen."
"I never stopped doing unrespectable things, my lord," Lucius replied.
To the blond-haired wizard's surprise, the Dark Lord laughed in amusement. A part of Lucius, after all, had been expecting for his master to once again admonish him on not being a faithful servant when the Dark Lord had temporary fallen to Harry Potter all those years ago.
However, Lucius had learned quickly as a young child that you could never fully predict what the Dark Lord's reaction would be to a statement or to an action. One moment, Lucius was absolutely wonderful in his master's eyes. The next moment, though, Lucius was viewed as being completely worthless. Lucius, therefore, had learned to always expect the worse but to be happy on the few occasions that he actually received praise and not pain or mockery from the Dark Lord.
The Dementors continued to make their way out of Azkaban to confront the new source of souls that had suddenly presented themselves.
"They sense kindred spirits," the Dark Lord laughed joyfully. "They wish to join our party." Then, he remarked casually, "The others are not faring as well as you did, Lucius. They lack your spirit and creativity."
Lucius resisted the temptation to shake his head in disbelief. He could remember the many times that the Dark Lord had been angry at him for having those exact traits.
It didn't make any sense. Sometimes the Dark Lord wanted his servants to be able to operate by themselves and not need him to direct their every step and thought. Most of the time, however, the Dark Lord wanted his servants to be completely mindless.
Lucius directed his attention away from his master and instead focused on his fellow Death Eaters.
He quickly noticed that Nott was completely surrounded by a group of Dementors.
Nott had his wand in his hand, but it was hanging limply and Lucius could see enough of the other man's face to know that Nott was absolutely petrified.
"His spirit has become as weak as his body," the Dark Lord commented lazily. "Alas, he has allowed his age to get the best of him. But not you, Lucius. You have kept yourself sharp. Go help him. He may be pathetic, but I do not wish to lose any more servants unless absolutely necessary."
"As you wish, my lord," Lucius responded before striding in Nott's direction, his wand steady in his hand.
"Imperio," Lucius hissed. "Away from him. Find another pathetic creature to suck all the happiness from."
After a few brief moments of struggle, the Dementors departed from Nott and glided away.
Nott gave Lucius a shaky nod of his head in thanks, but the blond-haired wizard just strolled past him, not pausing even for a moment.
"Imperio," Lucius growled at another group of Dementors that were gliding towards him.
At first, the Dementors began to bend to Lucius's will. Then, all of a sudden, they began to come back towards him. Despite Lucius's best efforts, it was as if there was another force at work besides just his own.
The Dark Lord. But why? What game is the Dark Lord playing with me now?
Lucius felt himself slowly starting to become overwhelmed. He tried to ignore all the memories, but he couldn't.
His father dragging him down to the dungeons in Malfoy Manor and chaining him to the wall.
All those hours in the darkness and the cold.
The walls closing in around him.
His father using the Cruciatus Curse on him.
His father taunting him about how he had killed his mother in childbirth. His father giving him another piece of his mother's jewelry for his birthday.
Him and his father being attacked by a group of wizards. One of the wizards shooting the Killing Curse at him, which would have struck him if he had been just a little slower.
That green light, so close.
Narcissa telling him that she was pregnant. Their marriage. Narcissa holding their stillborn daughter Ara.
The bloody fetus on their bedroom floor. The bloody fetus so tiny and so undeveloped that they didn't even know if it had been a boy or a girl.
Narcissa wanting to leave him so that he could find what she considered to be a better Pureblood woman, a Pureblood woman who would actually be able to give him children.
Learning that Regulus was dead. Him holding Narcissa as she cried over the young man who she had always viewed more as a brother than as a cousin.
Narcissa lying unconscious in front of Ara's grave.
Draco being born. Draco becoming ill. Draco laying in a bed at St. Mungo's, looking as pale as death.
Learning that it had been his own father who had caused Ara to be a stillborn, who had caused all the miscarriages that had followed afterwards.
Attending the funeral of one of Narcissa's best friends, Flora.
"No," Lucius cried in desperation, struggling to stay on his feet. "Imperio."
The Dementors finally glided away. The blond-haired wizard then spun around angrily, forgetting himself and forgetting who he was speaking to in the heat of the moment.
"Why did you do that?" Lucius snarled at the Dark Lord. "Why did you push them back towards me?"
"You forget yourself, Lucius," the Dark Lord said in a soft but deadly voice. "You should know by now that you deserve to be punished whenever you do something wrong."
"What have I done wrong now?" Lucius asked. His voice wasn't exactly as respectful as he knew it ought to be, but it wasn't angry or rude either.
"You ordered the Dementors to leave instead of ordering them to join me," the Dark Lord hissed. "They are our natural allies. They are of the darkness as we are. Do they not call to you as all your dark artifacts do?"
"No, they do not," Lucius said simply after a brief moment of hesitation.
Lucius knew that he was probably pushing his luck with the Dark Lord, but he hated these creatures. He hated what they did to him. All his dark artifacts brought him comfort and pleasure. The Dementors, on the other hand, did nothing but remind him of all the horrible events that had occurred in his life.
The Dark Lord looked at him for a long moment before saying in a disappointed tone of voice, "You are not my Lucius. You have been away from me for too long. A lesson is clearly in order."
"I shall order them to your side," Lucius said quickly.
"Are you trying to imply that I could not do that myself?" the Dark Lord asked, his voice deceptively soft.
Lucius could not help but stare at his master for a long moment. A few moments ago, the Dark Lord was angry at him for not bringing the Dementors to him. Now, however, the Dark Lord was angry at him for wanting to bring the Dementors to him.
"I know that you are the master," Lucius finally said. "I have never thought otherwise."
"Yet you did not look for me in my time of need," the Dark Lord retorted, his voice only increasing slightly in volume.
But then again, the Dark Lord had never needed to speak loudly to be threatening and intimidating.
"And I am truly sorry for that," Lucius returned. "Please, let me make it up to you."
"Avery is in trouble now," was all that the Dark Lord said.
Lucius turned and walked quickly to his fellow Death Eater's aid. He made sure this time around to order the Dementors to make their way to the Dark Lord's side.
If Lucius had not been so worried about the safety and well-being of Narcissa, Draco, and himself, he would have really taken the time to wonder why he tried so hard to please the Dark Lord.
Were the few times that his master was actually happy with him really worth all the times that he felt like he was walking on eggshells around the Dark Lord?