Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine, but J.K. Rowling's.
Author's note: This fic is set approximately ten years after the epilog of DH, and will most likely contain spoilers.
A Patriarch's Duty
The presence of that girl, the Weasley, in the other room, scared him, more than he would admit. It was not so much her as what she was. The end of his line, and the beginning of something dirty, that would carry his name. He felt the nausea overwhelm him.
Unable to concentrate, he very carefully opened the door again. The young girl was still there; he had almost hoped she would be gone at this time. First he though she might be sleeping. She sat there as a stone in that dripping filthy robe next to the dead man. But as he came closer to the dining table, he could see that she was shaking in an unnatural manner.
`Girl,´ he said. More hoarsely than he had originally been meaning to. She did not move. `Miss Weasley?´ There was still no answer, could she not hear him? He wanted to shake her, forcefully. He wanted to punish her, for what she was, for the spite against his family, that she represented, for the spite against all wizards. He wanted to avenge his family, remove the spot of dirt from the family tree.
`Mrs. Malfoy,´ he tried so force a response. Slowly she turned her face towards him. The ugliness of sorrow had crammed her face into a red stone statue.
`Mrs. Malfoy, that is me,´ she whispered. For a moment, he hesitated looking at the dead.
`It is unsuitable for an unborn to be this close to a dead man. I will watch over him, please leave." Unsure on her feet, she stood up. Her eyes were still focused on the dead man.
`My bedroom is the only room, which is heated, second door on the right upstairs.´ She hesitated for a moment.
`I will not enter the room while you are there, do not worry,´ he said. She did not show indication that she understood him.
Lucius wondered if it was out of fear or cold, which finally drove her out of the dining room, leaving him alone with the blood traitor.
The white hair of the young man was cut short, and he was wearing muggle clothes under the outer robe. Lucius could not imagine a worse end for a Malfoy. Leaving life in such an unforgivable manner. Leaving a half-blood bastard as only memory. Lucius had had so high hopes for this man, he had hoped that this man would finally restore the family honor. Restore the line. Now that chance had passed and all was lost.
`How could you lead you pregnant wife to this place? With a half crazed man, who will have to kill her?´ Lucius asked, but received no reply. The boy had even betrayed his own child.
How the boy could sleep so peacefully, Lucius would never know. All the mess, all the blood, all the dirt brought into this ancient house.
`How can you sleep so peacefully, with what you have done?´ he whispered, but he was not given an answer. The dishonor kept Lucius awake every night. But his own dishonor was nothing to this. So of cause the boy did not answer.
Lucius began very carefully to remove the boy's clothes, with his shaking hands, trying not to touch the white-blue skin, as he removed the trousers, the t-shirt, and then the muggle underwear. The t-shirt was glued to the skin where the wound were. He had to use a pocketknife to remove the last bit.
Collecting himself a bowl of water he started washing the chest of the body. Then he washed the face. Mud and blood colored the water dark.
Traitor or not, a Malfoy should not be buried in dirty muggle clothes, and that damn widow, he feared, could not be trusted to do anything proper. Anyway, she would not get the opportunity.
The boy was still clutching his wand; with some difficulty Lucius removed it. He went to the master dressing room, passing the dreaded room, containing the half-blood girl. Carefully, he took the most expensive robe, an old black and gold one, which had been his own father's. And then he took a beauty-full dark blue robe, which had been Narcissa's. Dirty or not, the Weasley was also a Malfoy now.
It was strange, somehow, he had the notion that leaving the boy alone would cause him to flee or protect his wife. However, the white body was still there on the dining table when he returned. Scorpius lay there dead and unmoving. Strangely, Lucius was almost relieved.
He dressed the body and returned the wand to the boy's hand. He looked as something of a different world in the faint candlelight. As a statue of a memory.
`Farewell, Mr. Malfoy,´ Lucius said, placing an old hand on the boys shoulder. He had never felt like this, not even when his wife or only son had died. The boy was white and stoic as he lay there.
Now there was only one thing to do, in order so save the last bit of honor left in the ancient house of Malfoy. The duty was his, Lucius', to save what was left. Mrs. Malfoy would soon be following her Husband. He felt jealous.
`Do not be sad, your wife and son will be joining you shortly,´ He whispered in the ear of the other man. He took the robe and the pocketknife, knowing he would be jailed if using his wand for dark spells.
It was a long time since he had killed, strangely he did not look forward to it. And he would wish Scorpius would stop looking at him in that manner.