Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters you may recognize from the wonderful world of Harry Potter, they all belong to the revered JK Rowling, I just like to play with them a little.

This one shot was written for Toujours Pur Turn Back Time Competition

Thanks to my wonderful beta's VioletJersey, Rainpuddle13 and Vequihellin


RETURNING HOME


THE SENTENCING – JUNE 1996

Despite the condition of his once fine robes and the filth matting his platinum locks, Lucius Malfoy even now, presented the facade of wizarding aristocracy as he stood before the grimy dark door flanked by Aurors. The door swung slowly open, the Auror's seized him just above his elbows and began to guide him forward into the dungeon courtroom.

His head held high, expression unwavering, Lucius allowed himself to be directed to the chair standing in the center of the room. Sitting of his own accord he did not flinch as the chains tightened around his arms and legs. This was not his first appearance before the Wizengamot, he had been here many years ago and he was as confident now as he was then that he would walk away a free man. After all he was far too influential to be imprisoned permanently in that hellhole he had just been taken from and, in his opinion, the members of the Wizengamot could easily be deceived — they were all fools at any rate.

Albus Dumbledore loomed over the bench high above where he was chained to the chair. "Lucius Malfoy, you have been brought here in front of the Council of Magical Law to answer charges relating to Death Eater activities. We have heard the evidence against you and are about to reach our verdict. Do you have anything to add to your testimony before we announce judgment?"

"I believe my person to be under the control of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named by means of the Imperius Curse and as such I, of course, can not be held responsible for my actions."

"Mr. Malfoy, do you truly believe the Interrogators foolish?"

"Certainly not."

"Good, then I do not need to remind you that you have been tested for all manner of residual spells and your results were perfectly clear."

"And I am telling you that your results are incorrect," Lucius protested vehemently. It was all he had to convince the fools that he was under the Imperius curse — his only chance at freedom.

"There's one way to make certain." Griselda Marchbanks was an elder of the Wizengamot and had sat through many Death Eater trials over the years. She had, in fact, been present the first time Lucius had been brought before the council and had thought his claim of the Imperius Curse to be a charade at the time.

"Go on, Madam Marchbanks."

"It is alleged that Malfoy is His right-hand man, if this is true he would bear the Dark Mark—check his arm."

Lucius blanched ever so slightly, he knew his left forearm was emblazoned with the Dark Lord's mark—he could feel it tingling now as though his master were with him in soul if not body. It was a mark he had proudly taken many years ago—he still recalled the night he had knelt before his master and offered his unwavering loyalty, then he had quietly advanced through the Death Eater ranks, showing up the incompetence of others to become second only to the Dark Lord himself, a feat he was infinitely proud of.

"It is highly unusual, but as Mr. Malfoy continues to feign his innocence I am inclined to agree—check his arm, Auror Shacklebolt."

Shacklebolt moved to the front of the chair, Lucius could do nothing more than sit chained to wood while the Auror tore open his left sleeve and affirmed his alliance to all present.

"It is here… the Dark Mark!"

"Assuming you have nothing more to add, Mr. Malfoy, we will pass sentence."

The courtroom was silent.

"Lucius Malfoy, you have been found guilty on charges of Death Eater activities and for this I suggest a life term of imprisonment in Azkaban."

"You are suggesting the imprisonment of an innocent man," Lucius countered futilely.

Ignoring the protest from Lucius, Dumbledore continued, "It will be put to the vote. Those in favor of imprisonment for life raise your hands."

All the Interrogators raised their hands simultaneously thus sealing Lucius' fate—his expression stoic as his peers re-wrote his future. One would have thought he was entirely void of emotion by his outward appearance, but one glance into his mercurial eyes by the few who knew him well would have revealed the myriad of emotions flooding his brain at that point in time.

"Mr. Malfoy you will be allowed a five minute visit with your wife and son in the holding cell before being Portkeyed directly to Azkaban. Remove the prisoner."

The chains around his arms and legs loosened and the Auror's stepped forward once again gripping his arms above the elbows. Standing of his own violation – he refused to show any weakness to these fools – Lucius walked with the Aurors to the door apparently deaf to the unfriendly jeers that followed him.

Waiting for Narcissa and Draco seemed interminable in the small, dark, stone cell. The vague yellow light drifting in from the corridor was barely enough to lift the shadows cast by the door made of iron bar. Eventually the echo of people moving closer drifted into the cell and he stood, back straight, chin tilted upward in the epitome of arrogance despite his appearance. As they drew closer Lucius could identify the click of Narcissa's heels on the stone floor and thought to himself that it was unlikely he would ever hear it again.

"Your visitors, Malfoy... five minutes only," the guard growled.

Lucius sneered at the guard and moved to stand directly in front of the cell door.

Narcissa appeared to be slowly losing the tenuous grip she had on her emotions, a state foreign to even herself. "Lucius… oh my… I will appeal, my love."

"Calm yourself, Narcissa, of course we will appeal this injustice and we will then be reunited. Until then never doubt my devotion, my love."

"Never."

Lucius looked to his fifteen-year-old son, Draco appeared nervous perhaps even frightened, nevertheless this would be his only opportunity to ensure the boy was aware of his duties in his absence. "Draco."

"Father?"

"You are now the Lord of the Manor. You will ensure your mother is adequately cared for in my absence."

"Of course, Father."

"Make me proud, son."

The underlying message in his father's words were well read by Draco—he knew his place in the Dark Lords inner circle had already been reserved and now he would be expected to step forward sooner than originally planned to take his station among his father's colleagues.

Lucius was still astounded by the notion that a boy the same age as his own son was responsible for his current situation. He remembered the night they entered the Ministry, failing was not even considered as they were dealing with children and they, powerful wizards, could obliterate the meddlesome adolescences with a flick of their wands if they so desired. The thought of failure would have been unfathomable, even now in the aftermath, had he not bore witness to the destruction Potter and his friends had wrought on not only his reputation, but also his life.

"Time's up, Malfoy!"

"Lucius…"

"My love, it will only be for a short time." Even as the words left his mouth, Lucius knew they were untrue—he would never see his Cissa again.

LETTERS

Even though the Dementors were absent from the wizarding prison, a fact Lucius was forever grateful for, it was still a dark, cold place where sunlight never filtered in, and telling day from night became virtually impossible after just a short time.

Correspondence from his ever-faithful wife gave Lucius the only means of marking the passing of his sentence with any accuracy and although he was unable to respond to her letters, he at least knew she still cared. The Ministry seemed oblivious to the fact that in the carefully worded letters from Narcissa, Lucius was kept abreast of the little knowledge she came across.

Dearest Lucius,

My love, I miss you more with each passing moon. Though I know my loneliness must pale in contrast to what you are enduring. Know that I am fighting to have your appeal brought forward but the Ministry is not accommodating however, my continued requests will eventually wear them down. I assure you, my love, I will not give up.

Draco received his results from his Ordinary Wizarding Level Exams. I know you will be proud to hear that he achieved eight OWLs. Of course, he is now focused firmly upon preparing for his sixth year at Hogwarts and is confident that he will be named captain of the Slytherin Quidditch Team. He misses you terribly and has vowed to do well at school in your name.

Love eternally
Cissa
August 1996

Upon reading his son's Ordinary Wizarding Level results Lucius felt a swell of pride, his son would do his name proud, of that Lucius had no doubt and of course he would see to it that those responsible for his current residence paid dearly for their foolishness.

Dearest Lucius,

I am afraid I have bad news. The Ministry has refused to hear your appeal for at least two years. I am sorry, my love, but take assurance in the fact that I will not stop badgering the simpletons that make these foolish decisions.

The Parkinson's are holding a ball to herald the beginning of the Christmas season, how I wish you were here to escort me. I miss you, my love.

Love
Cissa
October 1996

Lucius knew Narcissa would have been seething when she received the invitation to the Parkinson's ball—the winter ball had always been held at Malfoy Manor. It was the social event of the season and Narcissa reveled in her role as hostess.

Dearest Lucius

The Parkinson's Christmas Ball was dreadfully boring without you by my side. I had many enquiries as to when your appeal may be heard throughout the evening and I feel some of your colleagues may be able to assist in pressuring the Ministry to expedite proceedings.

I am looking forward to Draco coming home for Christmas; it has been so terribly lonely in the house.

Love
Cissa
December 1996

8888888888888

Dearest Lucius

Family at this time of year is so very important. I do so wish more of my family were alive and able to spend a few weeks with me at the Manor.

Draco has returned to school for the spring semester. Over the Christmas break he appeared to be still buoyed from his win over Harry Potter on the Quidditch pitch.

My love, I do hope you are holding strong to your health in this trying time.

Always
Cissa
January 1997

8888888888888

Dearest Lucius

I have had word from Severus Snape, Draco is doing exceptionally well academically and he hinted at the possibility of the Head Boy position. I know Draco will be pleased when he hears but, of course, Severus requested discretion for a while longer.

Love
Cissa
March 1997

8888888888888

Dearest Lucius

Draco is studying for his upcoming exams now and I do not expect to hear from him until they are over. As always I send his package every week and I do believe when he finally finishes school forever I will miss doing so.

I have finally heard from the Ministry in regard to my late cousin's estate. Apparently, they are unsure as to who is entitled to inherit; Dumbledore is insisting Sirius left a will, but no one has been able to locate the document. If it is not found, Draco will inherit the entire estate.

Love
Cissa
May 1997

8888888888888

Dearest Lucius

Draco's exams are finished and he tells me that he feels as though he did well in every subject. When the official results come to hand I will owl them to you for your perusal. I am anticipating his return for the summer with much excitement. We appear to have a busy schedule for the first five weeks or so of the summer. Many social engagements to keep and business to take care of with the Gringotts goblins – you know how I despise the creatures.

Love
Cissa
June 1997

Lucius marked off approximately one year of imprisonment with this missive. It was the final letter he received, for not long after it had arrived, word filtered through—the war had begun in earnest. Battles were raging daily according to the gossip that filtered down into the darkness of the cells of Azkaban.

Time became irrelevant for Lucius, now that he had no way of marking its passing with letters from Narcissa. He did not know if she was alive or worse, had been arrested as a supporter of the Dark Lord. All he had was hope—hope that she would survive and that he would hear from her. There was also the fervent hope that the Dark Lord would prevail and his loyal servants would be released from their cells.

AFTER THE WAR

Years had passed; it felt like a lifetime to Lucius, he could barely recall the words of Narcissa's last letter—the parchment had long ago perished in the dank conditions of his cell along with any hope he had of returning to her. His appeal had never been heard due to the war commencing and now, not knowing what had happened to his wife, he was unsure if there was anyone left in the free wizarding world that cared what happened to him.

News had come through—the Dark Lord had been defeated once and for all. Harry Potter had killed not only his mortal body but his spirit as well, ensuring there would never be another rising of the dark wizard. Lucius was numb, his powerful master had been defeated and there would be no redemption for the likes of him.

There were rumors abounding that an inspection was to take place, there had not been one since before the war and the possibility was the cause of much unrest for the occupants of Azkaban. Upon hearing a large group of people moving through the dimly lit corridors Lucius assumed it must be the Minster's traveling party conducting their inspection. He deducted, logically, that it must be daytime for the Minister to be conducting an inspection of conditions, for surely he would not visit after dark.

Curiosity forced Lucius to his feet and nearer the cell door; he was intrigued to know who was now the Minister of Magic. The party drew closer still—he could hear them muttering remarks concerning the disgusting conditions the prisoners were forced to exist in.

The Ministerial party came into view, Fudge was leading them, and Lucius could hardly believe his eyes. Cornelius Fudge was still Minister for Magic, how could this be. The man was a fool, surely others could see this. It was he, Lucius, who had helped to keep him in power all those years and only then because he was pathetically easy to bribe.

"Well, well, Lucius. How are you, old chap?"

"Fudge."

"Tell me… how do you find your accommodations?"

"Personally, I am of the belief that the rodents have far better quarters than I."

"Is that so? Well I shall have to ensure that piece of information is included in my report."

One of the Minister's advisors suggested humorously, "Perhaps we will be forced to downgrade the rodents quarters, as the scum are noticing how good they have it."

Fudge ignored his advisor's comments, continuing to cast his attention to Lucius. "You must be very proud of your son."

"Proud?"

"Yes, have you not heard?"

"I have not had word from outside these walls since the damnable war began."

One of the advisors leant forward and whispered loudly, "We cut off all owls into the prison at the beginning of the war, sir."

Well, that explains why I have not heard from Cissa then, Lucius mused.

"Ah, of course. Well, Lucius, you wouldn't have heard about Draco then…"

"What about Draco?"

"Quite the war hero, fighting alongside Harry Potter… instrumental in the downfall of Voldemort."

"Really," Lucius replied evenly. Although his expression had remained unaffected, internally he was enraged—his son, his flesh and blood fighting for the light!

"Yes, yes and of course then there was the wedding… social event of the year… oh and that grandson of yours—quite a charming little one."

Lucius was barely containing his rage as he snarled from between gritted teeth, "Wedding? Grandson?"

"Minister, we should keep moving lest we fall behind schedule."

"Yes, certainly. Lucius, a pleasure chatting as always."

Lucius stared through the bars at the Minister's departing back; he had acted as if they had been having a casual conversation in the halls of the Ministry not in Azkaban prison with one behind bars.

Moving back into the recesses of his cell, Lucius slid down the wall and he began to ask himself questions to which he knew he might never know the answer.

Draco was a war hero? He fought for the light? Alongside Potter? What could have possibly happened to make him change sides? Where was his loyalty? Fudge had also mentioned a wedding and a child. Who did he marry? Was she a pureblood? From a worthy family? What was the child like?

He was a Grandfather and yet he knew nothing of his grandson, Fudge had said it was a boy, hadn't he?

At least he knew now why he had not heard from Narcissa in such a long time, it was entirely possible that she was not even aware that her letters were not reaching him. He reluctantly resigned himself to not ever hearing from her again.

2020

A guard approached his cell door and opened it, an event highly unusual. "Malfoy!"

Lucius looked up from his position on the cell floor.

"It's your lucky day! – You've been reprieved."

"Reprieved?"

"Well get a move on, unless you'd rather stay…"

Scrambling to his feet as quickly as his wasted muscles would allow Lucius took his first steps to freedom. He was Portkeyed directly to the Ministry of Magic in London where he was escorted to courtroom ten.

Once again he found himself standing outside the grimy dark door flanked by two Aurors. Glancing to his side he vaguely realized that the wizard on his left was Harry Potter himself, the one on the right had a mop of red hair—a Weasley no doubt, Lucius thought to himself. The door swung open and the Aurors took him by the arms, leading him to the chair in the center of the room and sitting him down.

"Lucius Malfoy, you have been brought before the Council of Magical Law to receive details of your imminent release. You will be released into the custody of Auror Draco Malfoy, you will retain full use of your wand however, your magic will be monitored not unlike the monitoring underage wizards are subject to. I warn you now, Mr. Malfoy, if you are detected to be performing any magic that is considered, by the Ministry, to be of a dark nature you will be returned to Azkaban to complete the remainder of your sentence without the benefit of a hearing. Do you understand these conditions?"

"I do."

"Very well. You are free to go and good luck to you."

Lucius sat in the chair for a few moments and it was only when he made to stand that he realized the chains on the chair had remained on the floor, not trapping him. Preparing to walk out of the courtroom he turned to face the door and standing just in front of the darkened wood was a tall blonde wizard in an Auror's cloak.

"Father."

"Draco?"

"Are you ready to go home?"

"Yes."

"Good," Draco responded a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You do realize mother is going to throw a fit when she sees the state you're in?"

"I have no idea what state I'm in, Draco. You forget that mirrors are not common appointments in the cells of Azkaban."

"Well, let's get you home and cleaned up. I have to meet the Hogwarts Express this afternoon."

"Draco?"

"Yes, Father?"

"My wand?"

"I have it at the Manor."

"Good. What year is it?"

"2020."

"I was away for…"

"Twenty four years, Father. Mother is anxious to see you."

"Why?"

"She loves you," Draco responded simply, as if Lucius' question were completely ridiculous.

"Why have they released me after all this time?"

"Oh, I put forward an appeal on your behalf. I also offered to keep an eye on your behavior. They weren't joking when they said they would send you back if you don't comply with their conditions."

"I am not a fool, Draco."

His son studied him for a few moments with a carefully neutral expression on his face.

"Let's go home."

Draco withdrew a Portkey from his robes and held it out for his father to touch. Within seconds of making contact with the object Lucius felt the old familiar tug at his navel and his journey home was almost over.

Landing haphazardly in the grand foyer of Malfoy Manor, Lucius gazed around fondly at his ancestral home; memories from the first forty-one years of his life came rushing back to him. Nothing had changed and for that he was grateful.

"Lucius?"

"Cissa!"

"Oh my, love," Narcissa said breathily as she glided forward and embraced her husband for the first time in twenty-four years.

His arms snaked around her, holding her with an intensity that he had not felt ever before.

Drawing away a little Narcissa gazed into his aged face, "We should get you cleaned up, perhaps a bath and a haircut?"

"Yes, of course." Lucius knew he had to be in an appalling state, having not bathed in so many years and he was well aware that his hair had grown past his hips.

"All your robes are still in our chambers… I could not bear to have them removed."

"Thank you."

"Well, you go and clean yourself up. I'll arrange some tea."

Lucius made his way slowly up stairs, trudging the once familiar halls to his chambers. Many of the portraits lining the walls questioned his presence in the Manor believing him not to be of Malfoy heritage; he ignored them and arrogantly continued on his way.

Entering the master bedchamber he was pleased to see that nothing had changed in here either, Narcissa had kept it exactly as it was before he had been arrested. Continuing to the adjoining bathroom he was shocked to see his reflection and now understood why the portraits of his ancestors had questioned his presence in halls of the Manor. How Narcissa had beared to touch him, he did not know? He was, for want of a better word, filthy. Years of grime had built up on his skin to the point where it was impossible to find a clean spot anywhere on his body; his hair was matted, discolored to a dirty brown shade and, of course, it had grown.

Discarding the tattered filthy robes that hung over his now too thin body, he allowed them to fall to the ground vowing to have them destroyed. Stepping into the shower he turned the water on full force and relaxed against the marble wall.

"Lucius?"

"Yes?"

"Darling, I was worried… you've been up here for hours."

"My apologies dearest… I won't be more than a moment."

Narcissa left the bathroom and Lucius quickly shut the water off. Stepping out he dried himself on a large fluffy bath towel before walking through the bedchamber to the dressing room. As she had told him, his robes were all hanging exactly where he had left them all those years ago. Dressing hastily Lucius summoned a servant and ordered the creature to cut his hair to hang to the bottom of his shoulder blades. Once the servant had complied and had vanished again, on his order, Lucius extracted a black velvet bow from a small drawer and tied it in his hair. Examining his reflection in the full-length mirror he smirked, at least he now looked like himself—a little older perhaps but still Lucius Malfoy.

Leaving the dressing room Lucius paused as he crossed the bedchamber. Beside the enormous four-poster bed, on Narcissa's side was his cane. Striding confidently over he seized the shaft of the ornamental cane and marveled at the comforting feel the old wood gave him—now he was complete.

Entering the parlor Lucius could not help but gaze around at the unchanged décor, it was as if time had stood still for house in its Master's absence.

"Lucius, I have arranged some tea." Narcissa's gentle tones washed over him.

"Splendid."

Draco rose from his chair by the fireplace. "Father, your wand. Mother, I'm off to the train station… if I'm late Gin will hex me seven ways to next Sunday."

"Of course, darling."

"The train station?"

"Yes, father, I told you earlier… I have to pick up the children—it's the beginning of summer break for them."

"Children?"

"Yes, father… I'm sure mother will fill you in while I'm gone," Draco said just before Disapparating.

"Narcissa?"

"Lucius, we have three wonderful grandchildren – two boys and a girl. Dylan is seventeen, he's just finished his sixth year at Hogwarts he's a prefect and is captain of the Quidditch team. Roan is fifteen; he will be going into sixth year at the start of term, also a prefect and a chaser for his house. Brianna is twelve, she's such a lovely girl, very bright, she's just finished second year with very good results on her end of year exams."

"Well… I look forward to meeting them. And Draco's wife?"

"She is a pureblood… from a very old family," Narcissa informed him vaguely.

"Excellent. At least the boy did not foul our line with dirty blood."

"Some more tea, dearest?"

Ignoring her offer Lucius continued, "Though there are several matters I wish to discuss with Draco. I believe he was a war hero, for the Light? And now he is an Auror… has he no family pride left?"

"Darling, Draco is happy with his life. He made his own choices, seemingly the correct ones, given the outcome of the war. While he knew at the time you would not be pleased, he had to do what he felt was right for him."

"I simply wish to understand why he made such choices. I see no harm in that, do you?"

"Of course not, dear."

They sat discussing the events of the last twenty-four years, particularly the outcome of the war for families who were once in their social circle — who had survived the war, those that had perished and others left to rot in Azkaban for their alliance to the Dark Lord. It seemed, to Lucius, that almost all of their old acquaintances were either dead or in Azkaban — entire families were missing.

A rush of noise from the foyer interrupted Narcissa's telling of the latest social gossip and both older Malfoys looked toward the doorway expectantly. They could hear Draco's voice warning his children to enter quietly just before he appeared in the doorway flanked by two young wizards.

"Father, this is Dylan and this is Roan." Draco turned to look behind himself, side stepping he continued, "And this is Brianna."

Lucius stood staring in disbelief at his son and the children surrounding him. His eyes must have been damaged at some stage over the passing years for what he was seeing could not be true.

"Red hair… how did Roan inherit red hair? … Is that a Gryffindor tie?" Lucius muttered under his breath.

A movement behind Draco caught his attention, a head of fiery red hair, and as the woman came into view Lucius understood where the blight on the Malfoy image had come from.

"Father, may I introduce my wife, Ginevra."

Lucius watched as his son draped an arm over the witch with flaming red hair and his self-control deserted him.

"A Weasley! You married a filthy, muggle-loving Weasley?"

"Father, I will not tolerate…"

Lucius pushed past his son striding from the parlor with purpose. Making his way to the drawing room, Lucius withdrew his wand and muttered the incantation his father had taught him when he was seventeen. The floor began to melt away and a staircase became visible.

Descending the old stone stairs quickly Lucius muttered a lighting charm to illuminate the hidden chamber — it had once been full of dark arts, now Lucius was unsure what he would find, but if it were in the Manor it would be in this chamber. He began to rummage through old cupboards, drawers and examining the contents of ancient bookshelves carefully.

"Lucius, what are you looking for?" Narcissa's voice held a note of apprehension.

"My time-turner."

"Dearest?"

"I am sure I had one down here somewhere…"

"Whatever do you need it for?"

"Cissa, if I could just return to the time before I was arrested I could end this… this farce."

"And what farce would that be?"

"Draco and that… that red-headed bint!"

"Draco is happy, dearest. Ginevra makes him happy and the children are..."

"Narcissa! Malfoys do not have red hair!"

fin