Title: Weakness

Summary: Lucius is dead and now Draco has a lot of choices to make.

Warnings: Not much, a little language and at some point it suggests incest (Narcissa/Draco).

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, I am just doing this for fun, I am not making money out of this and all of the stuff you've read before...

A/N: I wrote this during a feverish lock-down in my room, 2 days straight. I conceived it at first as the beginning of a Draco/Harry story, but I don't know if I am actually going to continue it. For now it is a One Shot with a very open ending XD. I am still learning English, I would very much appreciate if you could correct any mistakes. I am open for suggestions as to how to continue. If I get a lot of reviews I'll try harder XDD. Tell me if you hate it... I know there are reasons why people could hate it.

"My weakness is art, Draco"

Draco woke up with a start. His eyes battled with the darkness around him to define what had awoken him. Nothing. It was always nothing. Just the horrible nothing. His chest clenched and he had to swallow down a lump in his throat. He would not cry.

"It is lack. There is something inside us that is missing and we spend our lives trying to fill it. But only those who are truly consumed by it, destroyed by it, are able to create what is missing. That is the irony of our lives"

He growled in anger and savagely stepped out of his enormous bed. He wanted a shower but in his present mood he would most likely end up drawing blood while scrubbing his perfect skin. And that would not be acceptable. He snorted loudly at his own vanity. He had inherited it from his mother, obviously. Once again he wondered who in his right mind would name a child Narcissa. It was a recipe for disaster. He seriously wondered sometimes why his mother hadn't drowned yet after seeing her reflection in the water. Probably because they had actual mirrors now and even his mother wouldn't go head first into a mirror… hopefully. At least his father was sensible enough not to name him Oedipus as his mother had suggested once because she thought it would be flattering. For her. He shook his head at the disturbing thought and deciding he would risk the shower after all he padded into the bathroom.

"Art is not beauty and beauty is not art, but there is an unbreakable link between them. Beauty in it self is worthless, there has to be someone to see it, to feel it, to understand it, to interpret it and to create something with it. That something is art. It needs both the beauty and the mind. The mind is within ourselves, buried and hidden; the beauty is out there in the world for us to find it. And Art is the one thing that is above all of us because it is our soul and the soul of Beauty combined. Art is greatness, it is immortality, it is power."

'Oh, yes, and the quest for greatness, immortality and power has proved to be a really good choice in life' he thought with bitterness. He was already dressed and ready for the day, well, as ready as he was ever going to be. One last look into the mirror, it would be unacceptable to look anything less than perfect. But he was perfect. He had low cut black, elegant and expensive trousers, and a simple yet effective black button up shirt. His hair was little longer that usual and fell loosely around his face making him look even sexier than usual. Well, sexy wasn't exactly the look he was going for today but he was already a bit late and hopefully it would be more of a I'm so sexy I can't help it look and not a I'm looking to get laid now look. Because the later would certainly be counterproductive and a bit tactless. He walked out of his room and swiftly went down to the smallest drawing room stopping just outside the door. He took a deep breath. 'Let the show begin' he thought.

"You must not show weakness in front of others. Showing your feelings is giving other the chance to use them against you. Life is an immense play and we are actors and writers at the same time. As a writer you must adapt to the stories of others but for things to come out just as you wrote them you must be a very good actor. You must learn to know yourself so you can act quick enough to hide your feeling from others. I know what my weakness is, you have to find yours and guard it with your life. No one can know it, this is of the utmost importance."

"Draco darling, we were waiting for you," said Narcissa and her voice seemed a little angry but Draco knew she wasn't angry at all. Her eyes were drinking him up and revealed the love she had for him. She always looked at him like that, like he was a fucking miracle. He was grateful of course; he also loved her deeply, but after 16 years of seeing that look every time he greeted her, he was beginning to feel a little unworthy of such adoration. She was perfect, so why would she admire him? His father, on the other hand…

"Good morning mother," he kissed her beautiful white cheek tenderly and noticed she was wearing exceptionally expensive looking blue robes embroidered with silver. "You look very beautiful today." She nodded once and smiled. Her pale pink lips curling up just a little, but her whole face seemed to light in Draco's eyes. Only then he acknowledged the presence of others in the room. Bellatrix, the crazy bitch was sitting in a dark green armchair with her chin close to her chest and her eyes fixed on Draco like a snake preparing to attack. Rodolphus was standing next to her looking completely unconcerned. "Good morning, Aunt Bella, Rodolphus" he said nodding as he said the names. They didn't answer. He sat down beside his mother.

"We should get started," Said Narcissa in a very neutral voice. "Draco, your father gave me this several months ago with the instruction that it should be given to you if he died." Her tone remained neutral but the pain was visible in her eyes and Draco fought the urge to hug her. She handed a small wooden box that looked quite old. On closer inspection Draco noticed the Malfoy crest on the lid.

"For generations and generations our ancestors fought to keep the pureblood families intact, each generation facing the same test, over and over again. They all passed the test. And now it's your turn. Are you going to waste the effort of centuries and centuries of hard work and personal sacrifice? It is your choice, I cannot force you in the right direction, it is your test. I will not hide my wish to see a pureblood grandson to carry our name, but again, the choice is yours."

His heart was beating fast as he opened the little box. Would he be able to manage more information about his father? That was the question haunting him since Lucius was found dead in Azkaban three weeks before this lovely family meeting. The answer was always the same. He had to know.

He looked inside the box. In it lay another box, much smaller, covered in black leather with silver snakes adorning it. He knew that box and what was inside. It made his stomach clench painfully. It was the family ring, passed from father to son for generations and the mark that identified him as head of the Malfoy family. He swallowed as he admired the opulent ring. It was big. Crafted in white gold, the band was engraved with swirling flames and the family crest also in white gold had a dark green oval gemstone underneath, the flames circled the oval stone giving the distinct impression that they were about to move. In awe he took the ring out of the box and put it in his right ring finger. The size adjusted and the flames moved for a few seconds before calming. It felt like a lost part of himself that was back at last.

"For me tradition is the most effective way to keep things under control. We need to be able to control our lives, to have some basic structure in which we can live. You could say that you are loosing your liberty by respecting tradition, I am sure there will be many to say this to you. But tradition is like law: it sets you free. Law is necessary to be free because it protects you from others. In other words law allows you to live without constantly worrying about getting killed. Tradition allows you to live without having to think constantly about what to do. Someday you will understand the benefit of having a structure available. Besides, as you may choose to disobey the law, you can also disobey tradition. But as you are my son this will not go unpunished (just like breaking the law would grant you a nice stay in Azkaban), you will be a worthy heir of my name and tradition or you will not be my heir at all."

Setting the box in the seat next to him and struggling to keep his face and eyes blank he looked at his mother expectantly.

"As I am sure you know, that ring gives you right over everything your father owned, gives you access to the whole house and control over the wards. No one can enter the vault here or in Gringotts without your consent. In fact, no one can enter this house at all if you don't want him or her to. You could throw me out right now, if you wish so."

"Of course I don't want you to go mother" he said quickly looking her directly in the eyes and letting her see all the love he felt for her while his face remained blank to keep Bellatrix and Rodolphus out of the silent exchange. She returned the look while adding a little gratitude in it. Did she actually believe he could turn his back on her? He was rudely startled out his thoughts by Bellatrix voice. He tried once again very hard to keep the anger and disgust out of his face.

"Yeah, yeah, we all know little Draco has power and responsibilities he is too young to understand. Now lets discuss more important matters." She snarled.

"And what matters would that be Aunt Bella?" he asked politely if not sweetly but could not hide the fact he was mocking her. She glared at him.

"As smart as ever, I see. Have you not realised what it means that you own this place?"

"You will refrain from insulting my son in my presence Bella" Interrupted Narcissa with a calmed voice that didn't actually hide her anger or how serious she was in the matter. Draco reached out and placed a calming hand on her arm, she was still glaring at Bellatrix but seemed a little more under control. He did know what it meant for Bella that he was now in charge; it meant that he could deny her right to stay here, as he could deny that right to her master and his followers. Now, he had to make sure that the house defences would hold against them all. If not, it would be downright foolish to deny them, as he would surely die from it. If the house was strong enough then he would have to consider if he actually wanted the Dark Lord as an enemy or not. His father obviously thought it wise to be on his good side, and his father was not a stupid man. On the other hand, he would not make this decision based only in his trust that his father had made the right choice, he had to have his own chain of thoughts to guide him to it. He also had to consider the fact that the Dark Lord had chosen this house to be his hiding place, thus trusting it's wards to protect him and it would be foolish to choose a place to hide in a place you could break into. So…

"Draco?" urged his mother softly. "Do you…"

"Yes, mother, I understand the choice I have to make, I just…"

"Choice! Choice! Who made you think you had a choice, you silly little boy?" barked Bellatrix.

"Bella!" hissed his mother in warning.

"All my life I wanted, I yearned to created art, I wanted to fill the void, but it was always denied to me. I was never desperate enough, empty enough for it. I tried I tried many times. I yearned the greatness of it, the immortality…"

"Aunt Bella, as you have to eloquently noted I am not a very smart person and I am too young to understand many things. Which is why I need to talk to my mother in private so she can enlighten me." He stated in the same sweet, innocent tone. He knew his mother was trying hard not to smile as Bellatrix glare became murderous and she opened her mouth to speak but Draco beat her to it. "If you would excuse us then, we won't take long." He stood and gracefully offered his arm to his mother who took it without hesitation. They left the room before anyone could say or do anything.

"When he offered power, greatness I was tempted. I saw the chance to stand by his side and help create something so beautiful, so incredible it would make us immortal. I wanted to create a new world and I saw in him the possibility to do it. I thought his power was what I was missing in my quest for art."

They locked themselves in the smallest dinning room, which was the closest. Narcissa placed a very powerful silencing charm and turned to look at Draco. He almost gasped at her beauty. There were things he had gotten used to in his life; the beauty of his mother face when she wasn't hiding any feelings, when she was completely at ease, was not one of them. Maybe because he only got to see it when they were alone and that only happened once or twice a week, or maybe it was simply because it was so overwhelming, but either way, he was always surprised and enchanted by it.

"Draco" she began, effectively drawing him out of his daze, she stepped closer and softly cupped his cheek with her hand. He leaned into the tender touch. "Every day you surprise me, every day you are turning into this wonderful man, I am very proud of you." She was looking at him with that adoration plain in her face and in her eyes but this time it didn't bother him, maybe he wasn't worthy, but he was so lucky to have this woman's love, he really couldn't complain. But they weren't here to exchange praises so he reluctantly removed her hand from his face and whispered: "Thank you".

"You are surely wondering why, if I wanted to create, was I destroying? For a long time I told to myself that we had to destroy what was there before to build something better. Can you see the beauty of what I wanted to create? A world were magic didn't have to be hidden, where it could develop and grow. Have you noticed how magic is more powerful where it is practiced regularly? In places like Hogwarts, or the Manor, wizards have more power and they can create that way. The whole world would become a magical place. I didn't intent on killing the muggles, I have my reasons to respect them in a way (art of course is the main reason), but I thought they could learn to live with the knowledge of magic. Perhaps I was too young to understand that when we (the wizards) were given power and the liberty to use it against people who could not defend, it would be inevitable that they would end up dead. In those times I was blinded by the thought of creating a new world. I probably knew, even then, that I was actually destroying beauty than creating it, but I chose to ignore those thoughts."

"Do you know if the wards could keep him outside if I chose to deny him the right to come here?" he asked rather abruptly, he had spend too much time in his thoughts and she didn't interrupted and now they had to get to the point. She was startled out of her thoughts also but adapted quickly to the change of mode. She frowned a little and answered:

"I don't know, honey." She paused. "I think they probably could. It is very ancient magic, very powerful, but I do not know the extent of the Dark Lord's power or knowledge. Bella obviously thinks he could overpower our wards, but then she usually thinks he is a god." She looked thoughtful for a few seconds. "The real question is whether you want to keep him out, despite the consequences."

"I would first like to know if I actually have a choice."

"I understand you feel the need to know all aspects of the question before deciding. But I think in this particular situation the decision will determine the possibilities. There is risk in both, but when you chose one we can find ways to reduce the risk. To discuss those ways before the choice would in fact increase the risk." Yes, that was certainly truth, if they were to discuss the possibilities they would be committing treason, well, more treason that simply considering a way out.

"Do you think Father made the right choice?" he asked softly.

"It is not my place to judge as it is not my place to determine or influence your decision. I will help you and protect you no matter what you decide." There was a buzzing silence. Draco couldn't say anything to that, nor could he make his choice so quickly. He could feel the pull his father had felt, the thirst for power, for immortality. But he knew it was illusions, the Dark Lord would not share power or recognition. He looked at his mother; she was really all that mattered now his father was dead. It was his duty to protect her, not that she was weak, she was a very powerful witch, but the Dark Lord was more powerful. It would be dangerous for her if he decided to go against the Dark Lords wishes. His father had thought of that too, obviously, he did everything to please Him because he feared his wrath. That would mean his father didn't think he could stand against Him. That was reasonable, neither Lucius nor Narcissa had enough power to face the Dark Lord. Draco didn't either. So the choice was in that way rather obvious.

"It was then, when I had almost lost all hope of creating and was beginning to actually enjoy destroying (for it is addicting, it gives the illusion of power, but it is not power, it is weakness, you destroy something because you are not strong enough to face it), when something happened. Something made me realise all that already knew, it was when I had given up my quest for art when it came to me. I created, Draco, I created the most incredible and fulfilling work of art. I never even consider it could be created that way before, I thought it was my duty, that I was following tradition; but when I held you in my arms for the first time and you looked at me with those eyes so similar to mine I realised that I had created life. You were the union of my soul and the beauty of the world and you were so beautiful. You are my immortality, my trace in the world."

"I have been reading my father's journals." He said bluntly. Narcissa seemed confused for a moment.

"How did you find them?"

"When he died I went to his study and it all kind of opened for me. I think he wanted me to read them. I mean, I could be wrong, but all of his journals were addressed to me personally so I thought…"

"If they opened to you it is obvious that he meant for you to read them. It is rather surprising since he was always so careful not to let me see a word of what he wrote in there. Was it really all addressed to you?" She looked troubled somehow. Draco wondered if she felt frustrated for not knowing her husband completely. They had had a very formal relationship but Draco knew she respected and loved him anyway.

"They are. It is in fact like a very long letter for me. I was extremely surprised to see that." No need to tell her that he had cried for hours and spend three days reading them without sleeping at all, or that his father words were now constantly in his head, like he was guiding him even after death. Or that his head battled constantly to reconcile the Lucius he had known and the Lucius from the diaries. "You must not show weakness" "you will be a worthy heir of my name and tradition or you will not be my heir at all." That was the father he knew and then he read: "It is your choice", "My weakness is Art". He didn't need to tell her he was a mess right now because of it. Anyway, the way she was looking at him seemed to indicate that she could guess most of it on her own.

"Draco, we cannot leave this room until you have decided what to do." Draco nodded. Right now Bellatrix could only guess that he was debating to betray the Dark Lord but she couldn't be sure. If he decided not to betray him and become a Deatheater he still had the chance to invent some excuse for this meeting, but doubt wouldn't be prudent once they left.

"I stopped believing in the cause the minute I saw your eyes. But it was because of them that I remained with the Dark Lord. I wanted to see you grow and become a man. When he was gone I did everything to be by your side and not in Azkaban. And when he returned I went to him so he would not come after you. I do not know if it was wise, but it seemed the only option and I already knew I could maintain the life of a Deatheater."

Could he become a Deatheater? As his mother said it would also be risky. His father had chosen to remain in the Dark Lord's good side because he was certain he could convince him of his loyalty. But Draco didn't know if he could do that. Sure, he had mastered Occlumency but if the Dark Lord asked him to prove his loyalty, how could he do that? He would have to torture, to kill. Suddenly, as images of death and suffering filled his head, he realised he would probably be tortured too. Having the Dark Lord here would also mean having him close to his mother and if he messed up he could torture her to punish him. He started shaking at the thought. He wasn't sure if he had the guts to take a life. His father had written that life was like art. He made it seem sacred. How could he take that away? He wasn't extremely powerful either. Hell, he hadn't even finished his education. He was sure to mess up somehow. NO, NO, NO… he would not let his mother be tortured.

He was having trouble breathing now and Narcissa was looking at him worrying. He forced himself to calm. Ok, so, if he didn't allow the Dark Lord into the house again he would need someone or something besides the wards to protect him and his mother. Why hadn't his father looked for other alliances? He snorted, startling his mother. If his father revealed openly to the ministry that the Dark Lord had in fact returned and that he needed protection they would surely put him in jail. And the ministry didn't seem to be very receptive to the idea of the Dark Lord being back. They had discredited Potter completely. Would they have done the same with his father? Would they have turned their backs on him and leave him at the mercy of his betrayed master? Probably. Draco opened his eyes in realisation.

"Potter" he whispered. Of course, his father didn't had that choice, approaching Potter would have been impossible. But he, Draco, he could talk to Potter and Potter could talk to Dumbledore… Well, that was if he could convince Potter that he was on his side and not some spy. Granted, they didn't have a very close relationship (in fact they hated each other) and it would be difficult. But Potter wasn't stupid. He snorted again. Let's say Potter wasn't completely deprived of a brain. And he was a Gryffindor, he would want to be a hero and save everyone, even if that included his nemesis in Hogwarts. Maybe he had a chance there. At least Potter wouldn't kill him or his mother if he said or did anything that he didn't like.

He redid his chain of thoughts several times trying to see if it was logical. It did seem logical, it wasn't an easy choice but it was better this way. His eyes found his mother's blue, dark blue, like a see you could drown in if you weren't careful. She hadn't taken her eyes from him, she had been analysing all the emotions in his face, trying to follow his thoughts. He would do this to protect her. He would do this because he couldn't bare the thought of someone torturing her. He reached out to tread his fingers with her golden curls. After testing their softness he placed his hand in the back of her neck, his thumb massaging lightly behind her ear, trying to sooth her worries. She sighed contently.

"Do you have an answer now?" she whispered.

"Yes, mother. I will deny the Dark Lord and any of his followers the right to enter the Manor." He stroked her cheek and kissed her temple, breathing the smell of her perfume, it was the same always. He remembered it in his first memories. Memories of her hugging him, carrying him when he was a baby. "I will not let him get close to you ever again." A great wave of pure love invaded him, he was going to protect her, and she was going to be all right. He kissed her eyebrows, her cheeks, her nose; she was going to be fine. He stopped, hovering an inch away from her mouth. He eyed her lips, so perfect. They were calling for him. Here it begins. Here is the sin. He had heard that in a song, the words stuck. So close. They were there. It would be so easy. He could just lean a little; an inch, and he would taste her lips. He looked at her eyes afraid he would see disappointment or worse, fear. But there was only curiosity. She was leaving this choice to him as well.

With a pained intake of breath he stepped away from her. Her eyes were back to adoration. She was proud, proud of a son who could do such things, who could think such unnatural things. His heart ached with self-disgust. He tore his eyes from hers and closed them trying to stop the tears. Only one tear escaped. He stepped back again and the back his thighs hit the table. He bowed his head trying to hide his awful sin from the world. He felt her hand cupping his cheek and tried to get away from it but she didn't allow it. She pulled his head up and forced him to look at her. Sadness, determination and still adoration filled her eyes.

"Don't hide from me Draco. You don't have to hide. You are the most wonderful, the most beautiful thing in the world and you should be as proud of yourself as I am."

He sobbed lightly and a few more tears ran down his cheeks. She hugged him tightly and petted his hair soothingly. He hugged her back and began crying in full force. "I'm sorry mum, I'm sorry." He repeated over and over again. He cried, he cried for his father, he cried for his mother, he cried because he had to.

"I told you before that you should never show weakness to anyone and yet I find that there has to be an exception. You see in life other people are a danger, always. But when I see your eyes now that you are a man, I can't help wanting to risk it all for you. You will carry my memory inside you. You will be my immortality. So, Draco, I lay my soul to you, because I can't bare the thought of it disappearing completely. As I am sure that when you read this I will be dead, then I can say this freely: you can have my soul, I no longer need it. My weakness is art, Draco. It is the reason why I love, why I hate, why I make mistakes. And yet, it is also the reason I lived and that makes me think that weakness makes us human, makes us alive because we can die. That is why, now, at the end of my life I discover why muggles have art, it is because they are weak. I admired them and hated them for it.

I am sorry I never told you this things before, I'm sure you think that you never knew me at all. I leave you this now to make up for my mistake. I love you.

Yours,

Lucius."

His sobs finally stopped and he was able to wipe away the tears. He pushed gently his mother so he could step away from the table. He felt as if an incredible load was removed from his shoulders.

"What must I do?" his voice was strong, determined and his whole posture exuded confidence. Narcissa smiled broadly.

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