The first casualty of war is innocence.

- Unknown

Deal With The Devil

Malfoy Manor, 1979

Lucius Malfoy believed in many things. Reputation, magic, wealth – they were all things that made him who he was. Growing up, his father made it very clear that Lucius was triply special: firstly as a wizard, secondly as a pure-blood, and thirdly as a member of the Malfoy family. Magic and wealth was his birthright and his reputation, and the reputation of his family, was ten consecutive centuries in the making, dating all the way back to when Armand Malfoy first arrived in Britain with William the Conqueror as part of the invading Norman Army.

However, for all his connections with people in high places and knowledge from the darkest parts of the Malfoy Library, he was still powerless to change fate. And fate, in this very different sequence of events, could be a very cruel man indeed.

Lucius Malfoy stared impassively at his reflection in the mirror in front of him, his own grey eyes staring back. Slowly, he looked down to the piece of parchment he clutched lightly within his left hand, yet again reading the words written by the Healer that had sent him it.

Mr Malfoy, it is with deep regret that I inform you that you cannot sire children and have been born infertile. Many treatments are available to combat this condition, but success rates are low and therefore so are...

Lucius suddenly crushed the piece of parchment with his hand, savagely tearing it into pieces and throwing it into the fireplace that stood to his right. He furiously muttered a spell, igniting the fire that quickly devoured the remaining pieces, glaring at the flames that reared up in fury.

He knew he shouldn't be surprised. Not really. Over the last decade, many pureblood men and women were being born with fertility issues, finding it harder and harder to sire children. Many of Nacrissa's friends had already been through severe miscarriages and her own sister, Bellatrix Lestrange, had been recently informed that she was unable to bare children. Lucius had to give her credit though, even when she was shamed for her infertility, Bellatrix was not defeated, rising up as one of the Dark Lord's most trusted Death Eaters - and the most dangerous. But that was the Black family for you.

Still, that incident was not the same as his situation. The Lestranges may be purebloods, but they were nothing when compared to the Malfoys. His family may as well be wizarding royalty and would have been muggle royalty too, if his ancestor, the first Lucius Malfoy, hadn't failed in winning the hand in marriage to Queen Elizabeth I.

If he could not sire a child, specifically a son, his world would fall. All the respect, the power and prestige he and the rest of his ancestors had worked so hard for would be for nothing. He would be the last Malfoy, yes, but he would also be the first disgraced one. And if that became true, he would rather die.

Lucius refused to submit to such negative thoughts. Malfoys never lose. Elizabeth I learnt that the hard way, suffering from a jinx for the rest of her life that prevented her from ever marrying anyone else. One way or another, Malfoys always won, even if they had to lose the battle to win the war.

And it was with that mindset that Lucius thought of a plan, a foolish plan that could get him killed, especially in such times. The Wizarding War was still raging and the Dark Lord was just as powerful as ever, yet The Order of the Phoenix still refused to die. But it was the only option he had.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Lucius looked back at his reflection, his face now set into an expression of steely determination. He swept out of his study, his robes flowing behind him as he made his way out of the Manor. He grabbed his cloak and Death Eater mask on the way and put them on quickly, apparating as soon as he reached the entrance hall.

Where he reappeared however, was a whole other story. He knew it would not be wise to directly apparate to his destination for he had no idea what to expect, so he apparated to the edge of the border of the estate, pulling his cloak tighter around him as he was suddenly assaulted by torrential rain. Lucius was now further north, far away from Wiltshire, the countryside of Yorkshire to be precise.

Lucius glared up at the stormy sky though the eye holes in his mask. He pulled his wand out of his robes, and began the long walk to the estate on foot.

The edge of the estate was coincidentally the edge of a forest, full of tall trees and shrubbery that at least partly protected him from the rain, and fortunately for him, shielded him from view from the estate. He hoped to find an ally there, but if the worst happened and he only found an enemy, at least he would have the element of surprise.

After several minutes, Lucius found the gates to the estate he was looking for. They were much like the Malfoy Manor gates, yet instead of completely pitch black iron, the tips of the iron rods were painted gold, and golden painted iron dragons encircled the hinges. The house crest was melded to the gates in similar gold paint, while huge marble dragons also sat atop the stone pillars that connected the gates to the boundary walls, acting as silent sentinels for the estate entrance that Lucius knew for a fact could be animated to life with a few simple words from the estate owner. The gates themselves could not be opened just like the Malfoy Manor gates, visitors only entering by passing directly though the iron gates once the ward was lowered by either the visitors or the owners themselves.

Or at least, those were the gates Lucius expected to see. Instead, he was met with a shocking sight.

Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating the broken marble statues of the dragons, reduced to rubble that now decorated the chipped stone pillars that were clearly in a severe state of disrepair. The iron gates themselves had been torn from their hinges, one bent and pushed inwards while the other was further up the gravel path that lead to the estate that was still shrouded by trees, the gates looking like they had been blown away with magic. Lucius swallowed the unease in his throat, recognizing fellow Death Eater work when he saw it.

He slowly approached the place where the gates were supposed to be standing straight, placing his feet carefully to avoid loosing his footing among the marble and stone rubble. Once he reached it, he slipped his wand back into his robe pocket, using the now free hand to pull the black glove off his other hand. Lifting up his now exposed hand, the stormy wind cold against his skin, Lucius slowly placed his palm against an invisible wall. What he was searching for was instantly revealed, the wards of the estate still active, electric magic burning him for the brief moment he placed his hand there. He recoiled quickly, hissing as the magic scorched his skin.

After shaking his hand to get rid of the pain, Lucius placed his glove back on, backing away from the ward boundary that had confirmed his suspicions. During the Death Eater attack, the wards had been dismantled as the death eaters broke in. Ever since then, the estate had been thought to be abandoned, a first glance showing the gates had never been repaired. But Lucius knew better, and just because his moronic comrades didn't think to check if the wards had been rebuilt didn't mean he wouldn't.

And if the wards were back up, that meant the estate either contained something that needed protecting, or it wasn't as abandoned as the other Death Eaters believed. Lucius would bet all the money in his vaults that it was the latter.

Grabbing his wand one again, Lucius raised it and pointed it at the empty air where the ward boundary stood. He knew the spell that lowered these particular wards, had been given the secret to it what felt like years ago, and with a flick of his wand and a few words, the wards fell briefly, giving him just enough time to pass through.

He walked along a winding gravel path, surrounded on all sides by tall forest trees, passing the gamekeepers house on the way, nothing left of it but burnt timbers and broken brick walls. The damage dealt hadn't been given recently, you could tell that much. Grass was already crawling up through the cracks in the burnt floorboards, ivy suffocating the walls and rubble. The sight made him dread what he was going to find at the manor.

His fears were unneeded though. Ambrosius Manor stood as majestically as it always had, the white brick walls intact and the roof all in one piece. The Manor had never been as dark and daunting as his own gothic styled home, Lucius always seeing it in a brighter light. However, with the rain thundering down and the lightning flashing in the sky, the once illuminated windows now dark, Lucius had to reassess his evaluation of the place he had once called a second home.

Clutching his wand tighter, Lucius silently made his way up the steps to the double doors. Unlike the gates, they were undamaged, even if they were slightly ajar. The door-knockers still hung proudly upon the white wood, black dragon heads holding the metal rings in their mouths. He pushed them open, wincing as the doors squeaked at the movement.

The interior of the house was just as dark as the night outside. Lucius raised his wand higher as he muttered a lumos, in case of an attack. He had no idea what could be here, even if he could guess who. One of the chandeliers had fallen to the floor, glass littering the floor and the stairs to the east and west wing loomed on either side.

Whispers of deeply buried memories flooded through him as he stared at those intricate staircases, the wood just as ornately carved as he remembered it.

"Come on Lucius, it'll be fun!" The brunette boy shouted, heading for the banister at the top of the staircase.

"Are you sure you were sorted into the right house, Atlas? Maybe Gryffindor would suit you better." A younger, thirteen Lucius Malfoy teased, grinning at his companion as he followed him.

"Oh come on. If anything, it would be Hufflepuff as a second choice. Gryffindors are just a bunch of arrogant foolhardy idiots with cabbages for brains. I'm hurt you'd ever think such a thing, really, I am." Atlas placed a hand over his heart, putting on a betrayed face, even though his tone was joking and a smirk had already replaced the hurt look.

"Is this even safe?" Lucius asked as the boy sat on the banister, readying himself to slide down. Lucius copied him, but instead chose the banister that was on the left side of the staircase attached to the wall so that a ten foot drop was not next to him, unlike with the other boy.

"Don't tell me you've never done this before?" The boy asked, disbelief and a touch of a teasing note to his voice.

"I haven't actually. Doubt my father would approve." Lucius replied, his face turning solemn for a second. Atlas was quick to change that.

"Good thing he isn't here then, right?" The boy grinned, Lucius sending him a matching one back. Both boys turned their heads to the bottom of the stairs, readying for the short race that was about to commence. "Ready, Malfoy?" Atlas asked.

"Are you?" Lucius shot back, sharing another brief grin with Atlas.

"Good. 3...2...1...Go!" Atlas yelled, instantly taking his feet off the stairs and letting gravity slide him down the banister. Lucius was quick to follow, letting out whoops of excitement just as much as the other boy was, laughing all the while.

Lucius could still hear that laughter. It echoed off the walls of the house, traveling through its corridors and rooms. It was the banging of the doors on the wall that brought him back to reality, the wind blowing the doors inward.

And that was when he heard the growling.

He whirled towards the sound, only to find a pair of glowing yellow feline eyes fixed on him, the body of the creature shrouded in the darkness. Lucius only had a second before it pounced, barely managing to cast a shield charm. It was flung off the shield hissing and crying out, landing on the fallen chandelier.

He quickly muttered a Lumos, gasping at the creature he saw. It was cat, a very large one - the size of a panther. The only difference was it had six legs and had large canines potruding over its lips. It heaved itself to its feet, growling low in its throat as it readied to pounce again. It was fast, faster than he could fire a spell and Lucius cursed whatever gods existed for even coming to the damned place. The creature was obviously a guard, unless it had wandered in, but Lucius highly doubted that since it was so obviously not of British origin.

It was about to pounce again, when a strong voice cut though the manor, the words foreign and harsh, yet the voice painfully familiar.

Lucius jerked his head up at the same time the creature did, eyes landing on a figure that stood on the balcony that overlooked the foyer. The creature seemed to understand the words the figure had spoken, even if he did not, sending Lucius one last snarl before leaving, entering another of the manor's many grand rooms. After it left, Lucius returned his gaze back to the figure that stood above him, leaning against the wooden banister. The figure was masculine in outline, and although it was dark and the light from his wand did not reveal the features of the man's face, Lucius was sure he could see a familiar smirk stretching across the man's features.

"Well, well, well. Do my eyes deceive me? Is the great Lucius Malfoy gracing me with his presence?" The voice was mocking, but very familiar and Lucius instantly knew who the man was. He stood up straighter, keeping the fighting stance in place as he watched as the figure pushed himself off the banister before he began to slowly descend the stairs.

"You do realize you're trespassing, Malfoy. If I hadn't been here, Carina would have eaten you alive. That's the great thing about a Wampus Cat – they're very good at killing wizards, even without the powers of hypnosis and leglimency."

Lucius's eyes widened at the revelation of what the creature was, his blood running cold.

"It is hardly my fault for not realizing that you had a Wampus beast as your own personal guard dog, Ambrosius. Aren't they supposed to be impossible to domesticate due to their violent nature?" Lucius asked, tone just as cold and hostile as the man's voice - Atlas Ambrosius' voice.

"Yes, well we both know that I don't like being told what is possible and what isn't." Atlas had reached the bottom of the stairs now, his eyes still not breaking away from Lucius' gaze. "Why are you here? Better yet, how did you find me?"

"We were friends for over seven years and you want to know how I knew to look for you in your own house?" Lucius asked, mockery leaking into his own voice now.

"The Death Eaters, along with the rest of the world, declared this place abandoned." Atlas stated in a clipped tone, eyes narrowed on the Malfoy in front of him.

"Yes, because they were too scared to go past the gates." Lucius pointed out, a Malfoy sneer curling up his features into an ugly expression. "They saw the gates weren't repaired so the imbeciles immediately believed no one had come back. Didn't even check if the wards had been put back up."

"Yet you did." Atlas stated, something like amusement shining in his eyes now, even if his body language suggested hostility and distrust.

"Yet I did. I am a Malfoy, after all." Lucius echoed. He paused before he spoke again, breaking the stare off with Atlas to look at his hands, before looking back up to meet the man's gaze once again. "We were friends for over seven years, Atlas. You learn a thing or two."

"What do you want?" Atlas snapped abruptly, the mention of their complicated history making the man close off and change the topic of conversation. Lucius immediately closed off too, anger replacing the momentary nostalgia and feeling he felt from the memories that had passed through his mind.

"What makes you think I want anything?"

"Oh, don't play games with me, Lucius. Out of the two of us, it was always you who needed me more than I needed you." Atlas growled, eyes sparking with fierce fury and bitterness. Regretting his use of tone, Lucius's expression softened, sorrow and guilt flashing across the man's normally impassive features.

"Atlas, if I had known what he was planning I –" Lucius started but never finished. Atlas was quick to interrupt.

"You would have done what, Lucius? Defy the Dark Lord? Really? Do you expect me to believe that?" Atlas snarled like an animal, the pupils in his eyes changing to reptilian slits for a few seconds, the black slits bold against the larger iris that was pockmarked by flecks of gold. The sight made Lucius recoil. He was the only one who knew Atlas' secret, that he wasn't human. It suddenly occurred to Lucius that Atlas could kill him and not only would no one ever know how he had died, but Atlas probably wouldn't even need magic to commit the act.

"I'm not stupid. It's the reason you're alive. I know you wasn't the one who betrayed me but you didn't help me either, so you better leave, preferably before I loose control and punch you in that arrogant peacock face of yours." Atlas finished, marching back up the stairs.

"Atlas, wait!" Lucius rushed forward, coming to stand at the foot of the staircase. He was desperate - he needed Atlas to listen, just one last time. "Atlas, please!" He hissed, trying not to sacrifice his pride by begging. However, ever with a harsher tone lining the words, it was clear he was desperate.

Atlas stopped in his tracks, but didn't turn around. Lucius took the chance he had been given.

"You are right, Ambrosius. I do need something." This time Atlas did turn slightly at hearing Lucius's softer words, frowning down at the man below him. Lucius took it as a signal to continue.

"Atlas, we were friends once. I'm not ashamed to say that. You were a brother to me, even if we share no blood. We may have been destined for different paths and when it came to what we believe in, we sure as Merlin don't get along," Lucius paused, trying to take the anger out of his voice when memories of their arguments erupted in his mind. "but we were loyal to each other. I could never die for you, which is what would have happened if I had sought you out, but I would have done everything else." Lucius declared with passion, anger and bitterness leaking through even when the feeling of platonic love for the man he once called a brother still lingered, distant but not yet lost.

"Why are you here?" Atlas asked again, the frown not leaving his face. There was still tension in the air and cold hostility.

"I need...your help." He forced out, as if it hurt to say. Lucius swallowed, silencing his prideful ego. Atlas raised his eyebrows in obvious surprise.

"What kind of help?" Atlas queried, curiosity controlling his mouth but he managed to portray it as suspicion. Lucius saw through the facade, having learnt throughout their time as friends what certain expressions meant when it concerned Atlas Ambrosius.

"I need a son." Lucius answered, locking gazes with Atlas. The only Ambrosius heir frowned at the declaration, but then a smirk quickly overtook his face.

"I doubt you'll find one here. Maybe go back to Malfoy Manor, Lucius, I'm pretty sure it's the sort of thing you need to talk to Nacrissa about. Nice warm bed, maybe make the room romantic with some candles so that your wife can forget for at least a second that the man she's sleeping with is a cold blooded murderer."

"Says the man whose murdered more than me." Lucius coldly counted, eyes narrowing as he continued. "Plus, that is not what I meant-"

"Does she know you're here?" Atlas interrupted rudely, making Lucius frown harder.

"No."

"Oh, well I take it back. I doubt Nacrissa will be in the mood for romance if her husband is sneaking out in the middle of the night. Wives are like that – get all suspicious and hormonal. She may even threaten to make you sleep on the couch." Atlas gave Lucius a fake smile, already starting to turn away. Face contorted into a vision of fury, Lucius raised his wand, firing a spell that barely missed Atlas' shoulder, blasting the wall to the side of him instead. A black scorch mark was left where the spell had hit the wall, Atlas staring at it in shock. It was only when he regained his wits did he turn back to look at Lucius, who was by now shaking with barely concealed rage.

"Nacrissa is not the problem and I certainly don't need advice on pleasing my wife." Lucius spat the words out, leering forward to speak. All emotion had been erased from Atlas' face by this point, although his eyes had narrowed on the Malfoy Lord.

"Then why are you here? Why come to me? We're not friends anymore, Luicius. We are on different sides of the war - remember? What could make you so pathetically desperate that you would come to me for help?" Atlas asked each question in rapid succession, marching down the staircase to face Lucius. He stopped inches away from the man's face, tension crackling between the two men like lightning striking in a thunderstorm.

"BECAUSE I CAN'T SIRE CHILDREN!" Lucius yelled, fists curling at his sides. Atlas seemed to flinch, if in fear or shock Lucius had no idea. Seconds ticked by as silence crept in, Lucius only continuing to speak once he'd taken a deep breath and calmed himself down. "I'm infertile. The Malfoy bloodline ends with me." He finished in a quieter voice, finally meeting Atlas's shocked gaze.

"Oh." Atlas breathed, running a hand through his straight, hair.

"Oh? That's all you have to say, Ambrosius? Are you even surprised?" Lucius asked incredulously as Atlas backed away.

"Well, you can't exactly blame me for not being shocked, Lucius. The amount of close relation unions in your family makes it a lot more likely for these types of...conditions. You should be grateful the Malfoy line has lasted this long." Atlas reasoned, frowning at his old friend.

"Lasted this long... Atlas, I am the Malfoy heir! It is my duty to produce the next Malfoy!"

"Well I'm sorry but I can't help you with that endeavor." Atlas apologised with impassive features, though it wasn't much of an apology. Atlas turned around, as if to attempt to leave once again and escape the situation.

"Is that your choice? You're just going to walk away?" Lucius yelled after him.

"Goodbye, Lucius." Atlas didn't turn around as he spoke, a final dismissal. Lucius snarled.

"You told me once Dragonborns value family above all else. You're the only Dragonborn I know, but if this is an example of loyalty, I don't believe your kind know the meaning of the word." Lucius knew the moment he spoke those words they had been the wrong thing to say. Atlas whirled around, the tempest of rage within his eyes banging on the walls of his mind, demanding to be released.

"My family died the night Lord Voldemort decided to have them tortured and murdered, just because they refused to join him." He snarled, stalking up to Lucius with revived vengence.

"And what about me? You said once blood is never concerned when it comes to family." In comparison to Atlas, Lucius made his voice quiet and calm, knowing shouting would do no good. It would only worsen the situation further, and Lucius had every intention of surving the night.

"Quite hypocritical words coming from a pureblood like yourself, don't you think Lucius?" Atlas retorted after a few moments, the fire dying from his eyes. He still glared a Lucius, but it was calmer now and more reserved, a kind of deep sorrow that Lucius had never seen before engulfing the atmosphere around the man.

"This is different. The muggles and mudbloods don't deserve magic. This isn't about magic, it's about loyalty." Lucius stated, though with no bitterness lacing his words. It was just a statement of fact - nothing more, nothing less. He and Atlas had grown up together, had faced the world together. Their loyalty to each other was unquestionable at one point, a rarity among Slytherins. But then the war began and they found the limit of how far they were willing to go for each other. Obviously, it had never been far enough.

"Even if I did help you, what makes you think I can do anything?" Atlas asked, not saying yes or no. It was a very Slytherin choice of words and Lucius could not stay annoyed with him for it.

"Legends say Merlin had control over life and death. As his descendent, I would have thought he would have passed on the information." Lucius drawled, unimpressed with the innocent act. He knew Atlas was powerful, more skilled in Defense Against the Dark Arts than he was, with an even wider knowledge of magical creatures and how to tame them. Lucius may have been better at potions, but Atlas had repeatedly surpassed him in other subjects at Hogwarts. The truth was, the Ambrosius family shared both blood and surname with one of the greatest wizards of all time – Merlin.

Atlas didn't boast about though. Never had and Lucius doubted he ever would. When he mentioned it then, Atlas even rolled his eyes. If Lucius had been in any other situation, he would have laughed at the comical sight.

"And if you remember correctly, I told you I had read all his journals and although brilliant, the old wanker was a complete nutcase. He described a run in with a cockatrice, a creature that is a renowned wizard killer, as the most 'hilarious experience that he would have to repeat before he died'. Merlin was like Rebeus Hagrid, except he was a Dragonborn. Which, might I add, is not a healthy combination." Atlas jabbed a finger at Lucius, walking past him to the door to another room, the drawing room if Lucius had to guess.

"So Merlin did pass on the information then." Lucius called after him, following Atlas out of the hall and into the room. A fireplace stood on the furthest wall, a huge painting of Atlas' father still hanging on the wall above it. It didn't move, unnerving Lucius immensely, especially since he knew what fate the elder Ambrosius had befallen. It looked like it was peering into his soul.

The rest of the room was equally decorated with luxurious furniture and ornaments, made out of the most expensive materials money could buy. It was a harsh comparison to the trashed hallway just outside, everything neat and tidy. Atlas waved his hand as he entered, the candles that stood on side tables and shelves bursting into life. Lucius whispered nox, no longer needing his wand for light. The warm glow of the candles cast Atlas' sharp features in shadows, the fire leaping to life just as Atlas fell into an armchair, pouring himself a tumbler of firewiskey.

Lucius raised an eyebrow, knowing full well that the man had never been a drinker. At least, he never had been before the war.

Atlas drowned the glass in one full swoop, bashing it down on the table beside him. He let out a deep sigh, before finally responding to Lucius' earlier comment.

"Power over life an death isn't something wizards, or even the average Dragonborn can achieve, Lucius." Atlas met Malfoy's gaze, eyes hard once more. "It's an Ambrosius gift that has been passed down through the generations – it's the reason why we were High Kings and Queens of our people and still are. The other six Dragonborn Royal families have nothing on us."

"Does that mean you can help me?" Lucius asked, both listening and ignoring Atlas at the same time. All he wanted to know was if there was hope for him. Atlas seemed to want to draw it out as long as possible, almost as if he dreaded giving Lucius a straight answer.

"I could give you a son. But that magic is powerful, it's neither light nor dark because it is simply nature – she is in the one in control, I'm merely asking permission." Atlas waved his arms about to gesture wildly, a habit that Lucius learnt long ago to expect from the man when he was explaining something.

"What do you have to do?" Lucius questioned, trying to get the answer he needed. His impatience seemed to frustrate Atlas, as the man's glare only intensified.

'You're not listening, Malfoy. Magic like that, it demands a price – it demands balance. That's what Dragonborns believe, what I believe in. Balance keeps the world spinning -you can't have light without darkness, just like you can't have life without death. I can give you a son, but..." Atlas trailed off, pailing significantly as he poured himself another glass of firewhiskey. A terrible unease spread through Lucius' gut.

"But?" Lucius prompted, dreading the answer. Atlas swallowed the alcohol, closing his eyes in pain as he spoke, his words barely above a whisper.

"...but Nacrissa would die in childbirth. That would be the price."

A long silence followed. Lucius gulped, both men avoiding each others eyes. They may have had their disagreements in the past, but they had never disagreed when it concerned protecting her. Nacrissa had been the only person other than Atlas that Lucius had ever truly cared for, even loved. And Atlas, well, he had always viewed her as sister.

"Is there no other way? There has to be something else, Ambrosius." Lucius hissed, angry now. Atlas had always been his saving grace, the person he turned to when he could no longer fight alone. Although those days were over, old habits die hard, and Lucius wasn't prepared to see someone like Atlas defeated. It just wasn't done.

"-I...No." Atlas stammered.

Lucius narrowed his eyes at that. An Ambrosius never stuttered.

"You hesitated." Lucius accused, noting the way Atlas had tensed.

"No, I didn't." He protested quickly. Too quickly, in Lucius' opinion. Almost as if it was defensive.

"Yes, you did."

"Lucius, it doesn't matter. It doesn't give you your son." Atlas jumped out of his seat, obviously not comfortable with the knowing glare Lucius had been directing at him. He leant against the fireplace, watching the flames dance below him.

"If it didn't give me a son, then you wouldn't be talking about it like it could have been a possible option." Lucius pointed out logically, making Atlas sigh in defeat. He immediately began to explain.

"It's called the Graviditas Charm. Carrying on a bloodline for Dragonborns is just as important to us as it is for purebloods. The difference between the two is that we don't care who we have children with: muggles, wizards, dragonborns, werewolves, veelas – they're all the same to us because the Dragonborn trait never skips a generation. It doesn't matter if we marry a veela, because the veela traits don't pass on to the offspring but the Dragonborn gene does."

"How is that relevant to the Graviditas Charm?" Blatantly frowning at Atlas, Lucius was not at all subtle about his confusion or his annoyance about the irrelevance of the topic. Atlas shook his head, muttering something that sounded a lot like 'stupid wizards' under his breath. Lucius glared.

"Its relevant because sometimes a Dragonborn's mate can be ill, disabled or infertile. That never happens for dragonborns because we're not human. We're a totally different species, neither man nor dragon, but something in between. But the point is, it can happen to their mates so they invented the Graviditas Charm as a failsafe. Dragonborns use it to impregnate their mates when they are unable to become pregnant through sexual intimacy." Atlas explained, turning back to Lucius. He walked back over to where Lucius still stood, pouring two glasses of firewhiskey this time, handing one to Lucius. The Malfoy took it but didn't drink it. Neither did Atlas.

"So, what you are saying is you can give me a son." Lucius clarified, sceptical about why Atlas was acting so... nervous. It was weird. Although Atlas was not arrogant, the word 'anxiety' and 'Atlas' didn't belong in the same sentence. The man was always confident, not because he was naive, but because he always won. Always. And he knew it - his confidence was well deserved.

"No, Lucius. I can't give you a son." Atlas corrected, his eyes now filled with sorrow, as well as something like terrible dread. He paused, closing his eyes for a second before opening them again, readying himself to speak. "I can give you my son."

There was a long silence as those words echoed through the house.

Atlas gulped down his drink in one full swoop yet again. Lucius followed suit.

"There is no way for me to learn the charm?" He whispered, stunned by the annoucement. Atlas shook his head in response.

"No. Only Dragonborns."

"And it would impregnate Nacrissa." Lucius confirmed, not meeting Atlas' eyes as he thought it over.

"Yes. But it would be my son." Atlas emphasised, as if Lucius hadn't heard the first time.

A pause followed. Lucius licked his suddenly dry lips, feeling sick for what he was about to say. He had to say it. He had no choice.

"Do it." Lucius demanded, eyes showing a cold, calculating determination that would have made anyone else shiver. Atlas being Atlas, just gaped at him, eyes like that of a deer caught in headlights.

"What?" Atlas asked, even though he had heard perfectly the first time. He must have been caught off guard, since he'd forgotten proper ettiquette in his shock. Not 'pardon' or 'sorry'. Just a very dumb, goldfish-like utterence of 'what'. Lucius tried his best to hold back a sneer.

"I want you to do it." Lucius repeated. Atlas just stared at him as if he had gone mad.

"Lucius, this isn't a solution to your problem. It will be my son in your wife's womb, not yours."

"I am aware, Ambrosius. But who else will know that? You need a son, do you not? Yet if the Dark Lord found out you had a wife or son, he'd kill them both, that's why you haven't married, isn't it?" Lucius asked, knowing even before he finished that he had caught Atlas with that point. The man opened his mouth more than once trying to speak, not being able to find the right words. Finally, he gave up altogether, choosing to glare at Lucius instead.

"Its one of the reasons." Atlas admitted after a pause.

"This could give you a son, Atlas - one that the Dark Lord would never know about. I would also get a son, not by blood, but the wizarding world does not need to know that. To everyone else but us, he will be a Malfoy."

"Its not that simple, Lucius." Atlas hissed, a disapproving tone to his voice. "The child will an Ambrosius by blood, which means he will be a Dragonborn Prince, and King someday too, just like me. I had Dragonborn parents even though I grew up in the wizarding world, but the child will not. It will be an outcast." Atlas argued, trying to get Lucius to see sense. Not that it had worked ever before. The two of them were just as bad as each other.

"But the boy will be powerful, for both our houses. Raised as a Malfoy, with the blood of an Ambrosius." Lucius persisted, making Atlas shake his head as he walked away.

The man collapsed into the armchair he'd been seated in before, holding his head in his hands. Lucius didn't speak, knowing Atlas would agree if it was meant to be. You couldn't force the man to do anything. The Dark Lord had learnt that the hard way.

Atlas sighed, lifting his head and running a hand through his thick hair. He didn't look happy – frustrated, angry, sad, disgusted, Lucius couldn't tell what the emotion was. It definitely wasn't happiness.

"You want a son, Lucius? Fine." Atlas ground out, gritting his teeth. He glared at Lucius, obviously deciding to place the blame on him. "But I will only do it if you agree to certain conditions."

"What are they?" Lucius asked, already having predicted this very outcome. Atlas was a Slytherin like him after all – their house always made sure failure was never a possible option. Negotiating a contract was no different.

"Firstly, the child will need to be trained. Once it turns thirteen the dragon will emerge and I will have to teach my son the ways of our kind. There will be no lies about who he is either." Atlas sent Lucius a pointed glance, somehow knowing what Lucius had intended to happen. Internally, Lucius cursed.

"Fine." Lucius bit down on his tongue, trying not to argue. He was lucky Atlas was even considering it.

"Obviously you need to be truthful with Nacrissa. If she does not want to go through with it, the deal is off." Atlas decided next, Lucius nodding after he winced. He never could lie to his wife even if he tried.

"I agree."

Atlas nodded in approval to his agreement, before beginning to pace in the centre of the room. If he didn't stop, Lucius wouldn't be surprised if he wore a hole in the rug.

"Finally, the child can never bare the Dark Mark." Atlas added, Lucius unable to hold his tongue any longer.

"You can't seriously be asking that of me." He ground out, his voice furious even if he never raised it. Atlas wasn't intimidated.

"The Dark Mark is, although not dark magic, directly linked to Voldemort, a man who has broken all the rules of nature in his quest for immortality. The dragon inside of us does not react well to him, Lucius. Giving the child the Dark Mark could very well kill him." Atlas calmly explained, Lucius turning paler than a ghost upon hearing the last part.

"The child can still be a Death Eater even without the Dark Mark, though can't it?" Lucius questioned, making Atlas narrow his eyes in warning.

"If that is what the child wants, then yes." Atlas moved forward, coming to stand face to face with Lucius, who he stood level with. "However, if you break any of these conditions Lucius, or if I find you've made my son into your own personal puppet, the deal is off. The same if both you and Nacrissa die in this war. One word from me to the Ministry and the world will find out who the child's real father is. Is. That. Understood?" Atlas asked, voice lower than Lucius had ever heard it. He remembered in that moment why his fellow Death Eaters feared the man.

"Yes." Lucius didn't break eye contact, intent on showing he wanted this, he needed a son and nothing Atlas could say would persuade him otherwise, even though he was aware Atlas was more or less blackmailing him at this point. Atlas stared back for a few tense moments, his eyes cold.

"Good." Atlas stated, nodding firmly.

And as simple as that, the deed was done.