Title: The Creepy Snake Dude in Your Closet
Author: pinkparanoia
Disclaimer: Not mine, I promise.
Lucius has always considered himself a judicious, level-headed man, so when he first saw his lord disappear in a flash of light, he didn't immediately leap to the dramatic conclusion that everyone else had. He left the Potter house discretely, quietly, careful not to panic. The baby boy was left untouched, sitting in the rubble.
He sat that night in his study, watching the fire and waiting for a prickle on his arm, some sign. His fingers slowly stroked the red velvet arm of his chair, arms bare. After about an hour his skin started crawling, but he didn't deign to acknowledge the discomfort. It got hot, so he took the black robes off, and put them on the floor. He didn't say anything, or look at anything. He waited. At some point, the birds started singing. With an abrupt wave of his wand, Lucius silenced them. They too would wait.
When a glow grew at the eastern horizon, predawn, he stood and looked outside for a minute, thinking. Sunrise and sunsets are times of change; they had long been used in dark magic as catalysts. All the oldest and longest rites, requiring the most power and care started at sunset and ended at sunrise. They were tests of subtlety, skill, endurance and dedication. All the greatest works for the cause had been bloody, long, and ended at sunrise. Harry Potter, the son of a Mudblood and a Potter, had survived the night; this morning, everyone would hear the news. A baby! The Dark Lord dead! The reign of terror over! And still Lucius felt nothing from the Dark Mark.
It was obvious to Lucius at that moment; in all likelihood, his lord wasn't coming back. Voldemort was gone, the boy lived, and Dumbledore had won. Lucius had to plan, had to gather up all the dark artifacts and hide them where no inspectors could find them, had to find a way to protect the status of his name in the public's eye, most of all had to find a way to catch himself and his family before they fell. Their lives had to change, be perfect in public. These would be tenuous times, requiring all his skill.
The sun rose, and Lucius moved into action, feverishly drawing up letters to various allies in the government, gathering up the most incriminating things and banishing them to a special cache created by a long-dead ancestor for occasions just like this. The final thing to go from his study were the dark robes, lying discarded on the floor. Lucius almost burned them. No real reason to save them. At the last moment though, he paused, and instead cleaned them with a quick spell, folded them, and put them in with the other things. Black robes were always useful, after all.
When the house elf announced breakfast, Lucius quickly changed and headed down to eat with his wife and baby son, past dozens of portraits, ancestors sleeping in the dark early-morning halls. But before he left his wing of the house altogether, he paused. The dark mark was fading now, quiescent. He pulled his sleeves all the way down to hide it anyway. Just in case.
