Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of JK Rowling, and anything you recognize (all of it) does not belong to me. I don't own the cover, either, or the poetry quote, or the song, or the regular quote (quite a bit of inspiration here.) Cover completely random, also not mine.

A/N 1: (Useless info, skip.) Written for:

HedwigBlack's monthly challenge: March: (bit late, lol)write this combo for extra reviews: Lucius Malfoy, Ministry of Magic, Crucio, apple, "Hello Again" - Amos Lee; Off the block comp: easy butterfly: write about someone who doesn't love their partner; poetry quotes and numbers challenge: I never meant to fire, you know. I know you never meant to fire, lover. I know we never meant to hurt each other. - Andrea Gibson; fanfiction terms comp: flame: write about a bully; winter games challenge: luge doubles: write a father/son relationship; gemstone comp: amethyst: write about someone losing power; one stop one shot challenge: event- break in at gringotts; random quotes challenge: use the JRR Tolkien quote; star challenge: acrux: write about a horcrux; vampire comp: vampire: baital; characters- Lucius Malfoy, Rita Skeeter, Dolores Umbridge, Antonin Dolohov; Thinks you can Think comp: Max: write about a faithful henchman; Tien Len comp: round 1: 2 of hearts: AbraxasMalfoy, ice, "It's urgent!", "When people are taken out of their depths they lose their heads, no matter how charming a bluff they may put up."- F Scott Fitzgerald; Chp. 3 Title Acrostics: O: action prompt- obliviating a memory; literary device challenge: device- archetype (Abraxas's story (Macbeth)), prompt- voice;

Baital - a vampire of Indian folklore, believed to be the spirit of a long dead person that can inhabit and reanimate corpses

Of Ghosts

Overall, nothing could have ever prepared Lucius Malfoy for what happened today. In his lifetime, he had never had to struggle, or to fight; everything came so easy. He was rich, brilliant, had the Ministry in his pocket, and though serving the Dark Lord was a difficult, committing task, being worshipped as a god by those beneath him and purifying the Magical race was well worth it.

As Master's most loyal, cunning officer, he was comfortable in his role and above everyone else.

He had been King, and today, after years of his castle walls being torn apart brick by brick, falling from his status over many months and all of his power disappearing, the Kingdom had fallen.

Because what had happened today was unforgivable. There was something practically sacred in that vault, and it was in the hands of the boy whom for Voldemort's hate was all reserved. Not even his position of once great power in his Master's army would save him. Everything that went amiss now was at his fault, because in the time that Lucius had considered himself a King, he had always, always been a plaything.

Lucius could not recall a time in his life where he was in control. As a boy, he was under his parents rules and stricture, fulfilling the role of Perfect Prefect Slytherin Son; as a young man, he was betrothed to a woman he did not love, and never had nor would (though he cared for Narcissa a great deal, because she gave him a son, the apple of his eye, and she loved him and he felt terrible for what he had turned her into); and immediately after, he joined the Dark Lord's services, ready to change the world as he knew it should be. To make the world what it was supposed to be. Never, until today, had he questioned everything he was ever told, and he found himself wanting to be on the other end of the Cruciatus curse after he thought about how he had lived his life.

No doubt he would be under its influence in less than an hour, anyway.

He stood in the Atrium of the Ministry, and he had not realized his mediocre messenger task (the sort of job he was demoted to with his failure to the Dark Lord). Dolohov was at his right, and Umbridge across from him, busily whispering with Thicknesse. They spoke of the sort of thing they would put in the paper, without Skeeter to cock it up, and how this would change public image, obliviating memories, and then they were laughing cruelly and humorlessly because none of it mattered. "It's urgent!" they were saying, trying to get his attention, but he wasn't listening. They held all of the power now.

And the noise was deafening. Not the voices here in the Atrium, but the ones inside his head. The ones that made him shiver and shake. He could not recall a time where he had not been tormented, tortured-

haunted.

There was not a piece of Lucius Malfoy that would ever forget his father. The sound of his voice, the looks on his face, the ones that were always dissapointed, or angry. Never, in his entire life, had he seen his father smile. He would give an arrogant smirk, or a heinous sneer, a meancing scowl, and sometimes a pompous grin. But he had never smiled, not when he looked at his wife, and not when he looked at Lucius.

But who was Lucius to judge on that particular matter?

Abraxas Malfoy had been a cruel, horrible man. He had been tortorous and mean in Lucius's childhood, reprimanding and strict in his school years, nothing had ever been good enough. When he joined the Dark Lord's forces, that was the only time Abraxas Malfoy had ever been proud of his son.

(But still he did not smile.)

Lucius did not need a mirror to know he had turned into his father, to know that his heart had turned to ice. Not that he had ever been kind. But in his life, there had been moments of happiness. None of them strong, and true, but he could count afew times in which he had been happy: when he thought he might love Narcissa, when Draco was born. But all of that was gone now.

And everyday, he could see his father around him. Because Abraxas Malfoy would haunt him forever, in every corner of his mind and in every speck of his reality. His eyes were in the other Death Eaters, in the Dark Lord's, his voice was in Lucius's ear, and his heart had lived on inside him. Or, the empty space that should house one.

Abraxas used to tell his son a story, one that Lucius, in later years, would think came from filthy Muggles, for the kinds of wizards his father listened to could never be this poetic. A man who craved power killed the man in power, and to ensure his sucess, killed the witness, and the men who found his secret. And as his mind slipped away into insanity, his absolute power corrupting absolutely, he was aware that the weight of his conscience would never be free, and that he was knee deep in blood. He could not forgive himself his sins, and the only way to true power was to continue to kill. All around him, there was bloodshed.

He was a dead man walking.

Lucius Malfoy walked among the dead.

And Lucius knew there was no going back from this. Never. This was who he was now, and the worst part was, he believed in everything he was doing. He supported it, he had wanted it, and now he had it. And if this is who he was, forever: the cruel reincarnation of his father, he may as well accept it.

If all his power was to be lost, the power he used to enforce what he believed, and reassure himself he was ten times the man his father was, Lucius would be damned if he would go down without a bang.

Lucius was his father: he laughed in the pain he caused others, he was murderous, and the only thing he cared about in the entire world was his family.

And Lucius Malfoy would escape this: with blood in either direction, he didn't care.

Lucius Malfoy was many things, but if these days were to be his last, first and foremost, he would do things Abraxas Malfoy never thought possible, and watch his face turn to a look of horror in his nightmares.

For in that time of ruin, houseless and despereate men went astray. - J.R.R. Tolkien

A/N 2: You have no idea how difficult that was. Hope you liked it :) Please leave me a review if you enjoyed!

Lara,