Lucius Malfoy paced back and forth, his sour demeanor causing his forehead to crumple. He stood in his own manner, in the drawing room, with the curtains shut and the only light coming from the fire in the hearth. Lucius was again confined to his house, not by the Dark Lord, but by the ministry of magic. The fact that he had been doles the same punishment his former master had given him was maddening. He was wandless, his floo network had been disconnected, and his family had fled, leaving him cold and defenseless in his own home.
Draco is safe, he thought to himself. Narcissa is safe. He sighed heavily, falling back upon the drawing room sofa. Although he was able to draw some comfort from the safety of his family, he dreaded his return to Azkaban. He knew it was only a matter of time before the ministry regained control of the dementors and he was forced to return. The shuddery images they left him, under their shadowy hoods, still haunted his dreams.
Please my Lord, do not punish Draco. Draco has done nothing wrong...
Your wand Lucius. Give me your wand...
Robbed of his magical ability, his position in the ministry and all his wealth, Lucius was nothing. He had realized as much on the first day of his confinement. He had amounted to nothing. No more would he be admired, or treated above others. Not even his own son loved him...
He felt an intense hatred boil through his blood, quenched quickly by fear. He had put his faith in the wrong person, much like Lily and James had the night that they died. Could the Dark Lord return? What would he demand of Lucius? What of Draco?
Despite his fear, Lucius desperately wanted to believe that the Potter boy had triumphed. He no longer wanted to feel the Dark Lord penetrating his mind, feeding on his doubts and insecurities. He wanted to know that Draco would live a long happy life, without fear or anguish.
The Dark Lord had taken everything from him. He took his dignity, his freedom, his wand, his wife, his son...
Never again would he see Draco's admiring face staring up at him. Never again would he feel the sweet caress of Narcissa's fingers. Never again would he ever feel the warmth of human companionship.
Lucius stood up. Love! He understood what the Dark Lord never had. Call him a coward, but all he ever wanted was to be admired... to be loved. This desire, he knew, made him better than the Dark Lord. Had Lucius killed out of hatred? No! Fear, fear for himself and his loved ones had led him to unforgivable curses. Had Lucius been glad that Narcissa had lied about the Potter boy's death. No! It had placed her in far too much danger. He knew he would never be like Potter, he would never save his life, yet Potter had saved Draco. Potter had saved precious, precious Draco, even when he had no emotional ties. Lucius was not noble he simply loved. He loved his family, he loved his life...
Lucius smiled, despite himself, and opened the book he had been reading. Hogwarts, A History. Hogwarts had been founded on love of magic. Lucius felt calm, without fear, for the first time in his life. It was so simple. He could love.