Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Warning: Hints of slash.
Note: Written for the Territories Challenge (Hog's Head) and the Leapfrog Challenge (Lucius Malfoy).
Savior
The place was dirty, grimy, mold and mildew plotting to overtake the walls. The stool he sat on had a broken leg and wobbled every time he breathed. Obscene words and random gibberish were carved into the wooden surface of the bar, and no amount of spell work could completely expel the damage, not that the owner cared. It was a shady pub with even shadier customers. The nonexistent lights flickered incessantly and shrouded the place in near darkness. Everyone had their hoods pulled up and minded their own business; the sort of people that would spit on you if you attempted to strike a conversation with them. A seedy establishment that harbored outcasts and criminals, a breeding ground for infestation and illness, reeking of broken laws and corruption; everything about this place screamed bankruptcy. He would rather die than be caught frequenting such a lowly, plebeian hellhole.
And it was exactly what Lucius Malfoy needed.
He had supported the Dark Lord and his ideals, believing that violence was necessary to make change, but when family became endangered, Lucius grew unsure, something that rarely happened. And he didn't like it. He hated the uncertainty and doubt, the paranoia that had him on edge around the Dark Lord. Lucius never intended for harm to come to his family, and his heart froze with regret and fear when the Dark Lord assigned Draco a task. What quickly followed was what Lucius could only describe as a path of ruin as his son crumbled under the weight of the orders. He felt like a failure, as a man, as a father. Who was he if he couldn't even protect his family?
Lucius sighed, taking a large gulp of the drink in front of him. He forgot what he was even drinking, something weaker than Fire Whiskey but strong enough to make him feel less like a failure.
He tried to rectify his mistake in the Final Battle, switching sides and taking down his former companions, catching them by surprise. By the time the fifth Death Eater fell, they quickly caught on to his betrayal. Bellatrix had been furious, chasing down the traitor and firing spell after spell, and Lucius hated to admit it, but if Molly Weasley hadn't showed up, he might just not have made it out alive.
He swirled the glass in his hands, staring deeply at the hypnotic amber liquid. The water droplets sliding down the sides cooled his palm. If Lucius was a lesser man, he would have collapsed against the bar, shoulders slumped in defeat, but he remained proud, back tall and straight, refusing to bend.
After the trial, Lucius was certain he would spend the rest of his life in Azkaban, rotting in a cell until death finally claimed him. But Harry Potter came to the rescue, as he always did. How the public could have rested its fate on a child's shoulders, he would never understand. Although Potter certainly grew up from the cheeky little first year to the Savior of Wizarding Britain— Lucius choked down a chuckle when he remembered the day an eleven year old child bested him. Him! Lucius Malfoy! No one alive could boast that achievement. He sobered up quickly, because despite it all, Potter was nothing more than a child who had to fight a man's war. He wondered what would have happened if the Dark Lord had not survived that night, or if James Potter and Lily Evans survived. They certainly would not have allowed their child to grow up like this, with the world on his shoulders.
Lucius scoffed. Look at him, getting all sentimental, pondering what ifs. The proud Malfoy Head of House, reduced to a pathetic shadow frequenting second-rate pubs. He heard a sunny laugh to his left and refused to glance over, the sight of emerald green eyes enough to paralyze him. The boy was still a child, just a child. His grip on the glass tightened, taking another gulp of the amber drink and immediately regretting it as he forced it down.
The boy engaged the bartender in a conversation, a little too far away for Lucius to hear. Although he itched to hear what they were discussing, he was essentially on house arrest, his wand only capable of producing mere household charms. He glowered at the shame of essentially being reduced to a lowly squib. A Malfoy was meant for greatness, but he now held less power than the bumbling Longbottom heir. And wasn't that a blow to his pride.
His thoughts were rudely interrupted when a cold something was poured liberally over his head, hair sticking to his face and robes clinging to his skin. Lucius abruptly stood up, chair falling to the floor with a loud crash. His wand out in an ingrained reflex, he jabbed the wood in his assailant's meaty throat, gray eyes burning, teeth bared in wolfish snarl. Lucius didn't hesitate to cast cleaning charm after cleaning charm on the filthy individual in front of him that dared lay his disgusting hands on his better. As he prepared to cast another scourgify, the beast grabbed him by his collar and threw him to the ground, shocking Lucius that a wizard would use such an uncouth Muggle act. However, before he unleashed his fury on the whelp, the fool was stupefied, the bartender grumbling all the way as he levitated the body out. Lucius resisted the urge to stare after the man; he looked uncannily similar to the merry Albus Dumbledore but with a polar demeanor. It was odd and a bit unsettling.
Lucius picked himself up from his humiliating position on the dirty floor, immediately casting a cleaning charm on his robes, making note to toss them in the waste bin once he returned to the manor. He turned to see Potter pocketing his wand.
"Potter saving the day, as usual," Lucius drawled, dragging his eyes up the lithe body to meet stunning green eyes.
"A simple 'thank you' would be nice."
"Yes, but do you really think I deserved to be saved," Lucius said, stepping closer to the boy. The intimidation tactic didn't work on him.
"Everyone deserves to be saved," Potter said simply, staring back at him.
"And that might just be your downfall, foolish Gryffindor," Lucius whispered, words a warning as they fell from his lips, looking at him meaningfully before pulling away. The static and electricity of the intimate moment dissipated in the air, leaving behind an aching hole of dissatisfaction.