Author's Note: There are references to my Dead Babies series. See my profile for the full list of stories in that series. Also, in my headcanon, Lucius's mother died in childbirth.
Additional Author's Note: The Ara part has been edited based on a review that suggested that it would work better if Ara did not speak, especially since in my headcanon she died before she had the chance to even breath, much less speak. Ara's story is told fully in "The Lost Baby."
At first, Lucius was just fine. Really he was. He already had lots of practice with being locked up in a tiny cell. His father had made sure of that when he had been a child. So, Lucius knew how to pass the time without going insane.
Besides, the Dark Lord wouldn't keep him and his comrades here for long. The Dark Lord needed an army to accomplish his goals, and it would not do to have some of his army in Azkaban.
So, at first, Lucius was just fine. He hated tight spaces and walls, but he was fine. This wasn't anything he couldn't handle.
Lucius, however, was a man of action; and he couldn't stand to be idle for long. He needed to do something.
He wasn't, though, going to start counting the bricks in his cell. He wouldn't be reduced to that low of a level.
He hoped that the Dark Lord wouldn't leave him here for long. On the other hand, maybe a couple of months would be enough to calm down the Dark Lord's rage towards him.
Lucius allowed himself to snort in a rather undignified fashion, after making sure that none of the guards were right outside his door, of course. He wouldn't allow them to take all his pride from him.
The Dark Lord did not forgive easily, and he never forgot.
But for the moment, he couldn't reach Lucius.
The Dark Lord, however, could reach Narcissa and Draco. No, Lucius wouldn't, couldn't, allow his mind to go there. Narcissa and Draco were going to be just fine. They were going to be just fine.
Lucius, however, could never make himself fully believe that.
"If you hurt them," Lucius snarled in warning, "I'll-"
Lucius immediately stopped. What was he thinking, trying to threaten the Dark Lord? Granted, the Dark Lord wasn't here at the moment, but that wasn't really the point.
Still, what if the Dark Lord did do something to hurt either Narcissa or Draco?
No, Lucius could not think of that. He had to keep himself together for when the Dark Lord came for him. He needed to be fully functioning, so that he would be prepared to redeem himself in the Dark Lord's eyes.
Lucius, therefore, turned his mind to other things, to safer things.
Lucius had always been a fan of philosophy. So, he began to recite numerous theories to himself. It had been an activity that had kept him sane as a child. There was no reason why it shouldn't keep him sane now.
And it worked. Well, it worked until he fell asleep.
In his dreams, he saw the Dark Lord standing over a crumbled figure. Two crumbled figures actually.
Narcissa and Draco.
And Lucius was there as well, kneeling over both of their bodies.
Lucius shook them and called out their names repeatedly, but they didn't respond. In fact, they looked up at him with lifeless, expressionless eyes.
Lucius then looked up into the cold eyes of his master.
"What did you do to them?" Lucius hissed in both anger and fear.
"I didn't do anything to them, Lucius," the Dark Lord responded. "Their deaths are on your hands, not mine. You should not have failed me. You needed to be taught a lesson."
Lucius quickly woke up.
"They're fine," he kept on repeating to himself in a desperate whisper. "They're fine. They're fine."
Lucius quickly became determined to stay awake. He needed to keep his mind sharp.
So, he began to once again recite the numerous philosophic theories that he knew of.
After a while, he began to have debates with himself. Philosophy, after all, was meant to be discussed; and since he was all alone in his cell, he had to debate with himself.
And there was no way he was going to have any debates with any of the guards. Their poor, uneducated minds wouldn't be able to understand any of the theories, much less discuss any of them. Besides, they didn't like it when any of the prisoners talked. They didn't need any extra reasons for turning violent.
After a while, though, Lucius got bored with debating with himself. He had gotten so desperate to disagree with himself (so that he could have a proper debate) that many of his arguments had turned completely ridiculous.
Lucius then began to go through the numerous potions and poisons that he knew how to brew. He focused on the extremely complicated ones, as they had a long list of ingredients and instructions for him to recite.
After a while, though, Lucius also got bored with doing that.
He truly had fallen low. He had begun to count the bricks in his cell.
It was a shame, however, that he couldn't expand the size of his cell. That way, there would be more bricks for him to count. That way, he wouldn't always end up with the same exact number each time he counted. He hated such predictability.
Wait a minute. He swore there had been more bricks the last time he had counted them. Was his cell becoming smaller? When he had fallen asleep the last time, had he been that close to the wall? Were the walls moving?
"Calm yourself," Lucius muttered to himself. "The last thing you need to do is to start imagining things. You're better than that. You're filthy and you're cold, but you're still better than that."
A couple of hours of sleep here and there were no longer enough. Despite his best efforts, his eyes closed.
Lucius remembered the day he had married Narcissa. It had been the most wonderful day in his life.
Their wedding had occurred several months ahead of its original scheduled date because it had to happen before Narcissa started showing.
Ara. Sweet, precious, little Ara. Dead before she even had the chance to take a single breath.
The happiness of Lucius's marriage to Narcissa was forever tainted by Ara's death.
And Ara had been just the first to die.
The happiness of Draco's birth was tainted by all those loses.
And it had all started with Ara's lifeless body.
Lucius was once again trying to fight sleep. He didn't want to close his eyes again because every time he closed his eyes he saw Narcissa holding their dead baby daughter.
Lucius suddenly noticed that a small girl was looking at him through the bars of his cell door.
The girl had long platinum blond hair and curious, intelligent eyes.
Next to Narcissa, this girl was the most beautiful sight that Lucius had ever seen. She was the perfect combination of both him and Narcissa.
"Ara," Lucius breathed in disbelief, feeling something catch in his throat. This couldn't be possible.
Ara, who looked to be about six or seven years old, just stared at him in complete silence.
"No," Lucius said. "You're not real. You're dead. You were dead before you were even born. And if you were alive, you would be older than Draco, not younger."
The girl just continued to look at him, the expression on her face unreadable.
"Why are you here?" Lucius cried "Why must you come here and remind me of what I have lost? Why must you come here and remind me of you?"
The girl's eyes narrowed slightly. Her face reflected her anger, her hurt, and her disappointment.
"I'm so sorry, Ara," Lucius gasped. "I didn't mean it that way. I would give anything to have you alive; but you're dead, and I will never be able to change that. Please, torment me no longer. Go. Just go."
The girl gave Lucius one final glare before turning to leave.
A part of Lucius wanted to call for Ara, so that she would return. But another part of him still remembered with painful clarity that Ara was dead.
It was so cold and dark. He was hungry and thirsty. He wished that the guards would give him more, but he would not be reduced to begging. Besides, he would not give them any more reason to be angry at him. They could be rather violent when they were angry. And it seemed like they were always angry.
Lucius didn't even have to say or do anything. The guards really didn't need a reason to be angry at him. Perhaps it was his mere existence that made them so angry.
Lucius wondered if they were friends of his father. But that was silly. Lucius did not recognize any of the guards, so they clearly were not Purebloods. And there was no way that Abraxas Malfoy would ever associate with someone who was not a Pureblood.
Lucius tried to fight sleep, but it was a battle he could never win for long. His body and his will were just too weak.
"You haven't improved at all," a cold voice spoke suddenly in clear disappointment. "You are still a disgrace to the name Malfoy, like you always have been."
Lucius opened up his eyes, and he found himself looking up into the unforgiving eyes of his father.
"You're not here," Lucius gasped. "You're dead. I killed you myself."
"Now, now, Lucius," Abraxas smiled unpleasantly, "did you truly think you would be rid of me that easily? I'm always going to be here."
"As will I," a woman's voice suddenly spoke.
Lucius just stared. He recognized the woman standing before him, even though he had never had the chance to meet her. He had looked at her portrait for hours at a time as a child, after all.
"Mother," Lucius breathed.
His mother smiled at him as she looked at him with both happiness and sadness.
"Lucius, my precious son, my light," she said softly.
"You have no business here," Abraxas snarled at his wife.
"Neither of you have any business being here," Lucius snapped. "You're both dead."
"I may be dead," Abraxas replied, "but will I ever truly be gone? Face it, Lucius. I am a part of you, and I always will be."
Lucius closed his eyes. He just wanted to sleep.
Or was he already asleep? Was all this nothing more than a dream?
It had to be a dream. Because if he wasn't dreaming, then it meant he was awake. And if he was awake, then it meant he was seeing things that weren't really there. And if he was seeing things that weren't really there, then it meant that he was slowly losing his mind.
And his mind was one thing that Lucius Malfoy refused to lose. His mind was the only thing that he had left.
The Dark Lord was in the cell with him. But he had not come alone. He had bought Narcissa and Draco with him.
"See how the mighty have fallen," the Dark Lord asked mockingly. "Come now, Lucius. Don't close your eyes. Look at me. Look at your wife and son. Look at what your failures have done to them."
Lucius didn't want to look, but he also had to know what damage had been done to Narcissa and Draco.
Narcissa and Draco stared down at him with vacant eyes. They looked so defeated.
"Have you learned your lesson yet, Lucius," the Dark Lord asked, "or do you need more encouragement to do better in the future?"
The Dark Lord pointed his wand at Narcissa and Draco.
"No, please, don't," Lucius gasped. "I've learned my lesson. I'll do better. Just please, don't hurt them."
"You are in no place to make any demands of me," the Dark Lord hissed.
"I know," Lucius breathed. He then blinked his eyes several times. "Are you really here?" he asked.
Lucius blinked his eyes some more. The Dark Lord, Narcissa, and Draco all disappeared from sight.
The next time the Dark Lord appeared, Lucius closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. If it really was the Dark Lord, he would wake up Lucius with the Cruciatus Curse. But if it was just another illusion, nothing would happen.
Nothing ever happened, which meant that the Dark Lord had not yet came for him.
When was the Dark Lord going to come for him? Was the Dark Lord going to come for him?
And since when had he become this desperate for the pain that would follow as soon as the Dark Lord did finally come?
"I don't need the Dark Lord," Lucius kept on muttering to himself. "I don't need the Dark Lord. I can get by this fine without him. I rather stay here anyways."
"We both know that's not true," Abraxas's voice suddenly spoke. "We both know you prefer the torture over the confinement."
"Where's Mother?" Lucius demanded.
"Did you truly think she cares about you as much as I do?" Abraxas sneered. "She died giving birth to you. She didn't care enough about you to stay alive. I, on the other hand, would still be there for you if you had not killed me. But that's the past, and the past should stay in the past. I'm here now, and I won't abandon you just because you decided to cast me aside."
"You killed Ara," Lucius hissed. "You killed the others after her. Both Narcissa and Draco could have died as well because of your actions."
"Yet, despite all that," Abraxas responded, "a part of you doesn't want me to leave. I know that you have not forgotten me, not even for a moment. You can't forget me. I am a part of you that will never go away."
Lucius closed his eyes.
No matter how many times Lucius closed his eyes, however, his father always eventually came back.
Abraxas was there when Lucius was alone. Abraxas was there when the guards came into the cell.
"Does this bring back memories?" his father laughed when the guards beat him.
"You're dead," Lucius kept on muttering to himself. "You're dead. You're dead."
Lucius's only comfort was that none of the guards had even a quarter of his father's talent.
One night. Or was it day? Lucius never knew. It was always dark and cold here. It didn't really matter if it was day or night. It was always the same. The time of day meant nothing here.
Anyways, at some point, the cell door opened. Again.
Why did the guards have to love him so much? Perhaps they were Purebloods he didn't know about. Perhaps they were friends of his father after all.
Before Lucius could think more on this, however, he felt the temperature in his cell drop even more. And he swore that it got even darker as well.
It wasn't the guards after all. They never felt that way. They never had that much of a presence.
"Father," Lucius gasped.
"Not quite," a voice laughed unpleasantly.
It was the Dark Lord.