Lucius Malfoy was awake.

He did not know how long he'd been asleep, but he was awake.

It was very cold, but strangely enough he didn't feel cold at all. And it was completely dark, but he was not blinded. And there was no ground to walk on, but he was not floating; his feet moved with purpose.

He let them.

Then he could see. Not because it grew lighter, but because the darkness was somehow parted and bent itself into a picture his eyes could see. A house.

He thought, I used to live here.

But no, not here. There had been a garden then. There had been a baby that was always in the garden, and a young golden haired woman.

He went up the steps and through the door.

The baby had grown up into a boy. He had taken his first few steps here.

Lucius went up the stairs.

The golden haired woman had grown into a matron. She had shed a tear here on the steps when the child left them.

School. The word popped into Lucius' head like the memory of a sour taste.

He walked into the hallway. It was deathly quiet. The dark seemed to have a life of its own. For the first time he became aware of it and it pressed in upon him like closing walls.

The boy had become a young man. He had passed through these halls like a ghost with horror and hate in his face. The golden haired woman had become grey, and there were always wrinkles in her face and tears in her eyes.

He had caused them.

A shudder passed through him.

He was standing in front of a door. It was open. He passed in.

And then all his memory returned and smacked him in the face like cold water. From the first time he had seen Draco's milky eyes to the last time he had seen them, when they were cold and grey like stone.

He staggered against the wall, and for the second time he felt the anguish that had come over him then.

I hate you, Draco had said.

There was a cradle in the corner, in the same place Draco's had been. There was a child in the cradle. But it was not Draco; it was a little girl. And she was looking at him.

A shock passed through him. Somehow, he knew he should not be seen.

But the little girl showed no sign of surprise or fear; only a watchfulness. Her hair, fine and wispy, stuck out around her small head.

Her eyes stared out at him: Draco's eyes.

Turning, he stumbled from the room and fled. He could not face those eyes. He could never again face those eyes.

The little girl followed him.

He did not turn around, but he knew she was coming. She came out of her room and walked past him down the long hall.

He followed her.

She entered the double doors at the end of the hall, which were slightly ajar. A great bed, in the middle of the room, was draped with a canopy.

She swept it aside.

There were two people in the bed.

She climbed into it and lay a hand on each shoulder.

"Wake up," she whispered. "Mama, Daddy, wake up!"

They started out of sleep, as any parent wakes when they hear their child's voice. The woman he did not know. The man was his son. The man was Draco.

"What's wrong?" the woman demanded.

"I saw Grandpa," the little girl whispered.

Grandpa.

"You can't see Grandpa," said the man. "He's dead, child."

But the bitterness that Lucius had expected was gone from his voice.

"I saw him," insisted the little girl. "He was so, so sad." She tugged anxiously at her father's shoulder. "He was not bad."

"No, he wasn't," said the man gently. "He was not bad." The woman looked up at him, a proud smile crossing her face.

A sudden cold weight like a heavy stone passed from Lucius' heart. Suddenly he had passed from the room and into the shifting darkness. And his soul was released.


AN: This is a dribble drabble that came into my head recently. I don't usually write this kind of story, but there it is. And I realize that Draco had a son, not a daughter, but I changed it, because I wanted a little girl.

And yes, Lucius is dead during this narrative. He is supposed to be something of a ghost that can't leave the earth until he's forgiven.


Please review, it makes my heart sing! Love you bunches. -Kenzie