A/N: Abraxas Malfoy was Lucius's father; Nobby Leach was the first Muggleborn Minister for Magic. This tells the story of the mysterious connection between the two that Rowling has hinted at on Pottermore.
Once they were seated at opposite ends of the impressive dining table in Malfoy Manor, Minister for Magic Nobby Leach asked Abraxas, "Isn't your family joining us?"
"I'm afraid not. My wife is overseas visiting family and my son is away at school," Abraxas replied, remaining deliberately vague. He despised the man seated across from him, and didn't really wish to prolong their small talk. Besides, he didn't want to be caught in a lie; after all, his wife wasn't travelling, just at her sister's house across town. But he didn't want his family here by any means; he had sacrificed enough of his dignity and reputation for Leach already.
Many were scandalized when he didn't join the rest of the Ministry purebloods in resigning their posts in protest. A mudblood minister. The world was getting more ridiculous every day.
But that was just it. The world was changing; it was losing sight of the importance of blood purity. However, unlike many of his friends, Abraxas knew that there was one thing that was more important than purity, and that was image. He was furious that the idiots of his community had put someone so unworthy in office, but he was also very aware of his position in the public eye and was smart enough to play diplomat. While he sympathized with the people who quit, refusing to work under a man who wasn't fit to lick their shoes, he didn't see losing power and making a spectacle of oneself as a good solution.
So he knew he couldn't take overt action. When asked about his plans, he had a well-calculated response. 'While the new Minister and I have some very different viewpoints, I certainly accept that the community is changing and I see no purpose in fighting change. It is far better, I think, to embrace differences in opinion than to deepen tensions with uncompromising partisanship. While I will continue to represent the values I have always stood for, I also plan to respect the legitimacy of the Minister and his office.' Play both sides, that was the Malfoy way. And though it had killed him, the statement was part of a larger plan.
A plan that was coming to fruition right now, as one of the Manor's many house elves brought two identical glasses of wine to the table. The elves hands did not shake as he carefully placed one glass in front of Leach and another in front of Abraxas; he then gave a steady bow and retreated back into the kitchen.
Leach, who was used to the ways of wealthy wizards by now, continued the conversation as though nothing had happened.
"Ah, that's right. How is Lucius? What year is he in now?"
"Fourth," he answered distractedly, watching carefully for the Minister to reach for his wineglass. He maintained an impassive expression, but he felt incredibly aware of the empty vial in his pocket.
"My oldest, Elsie, doesn't start until next year. She's got her heart set on Ravenclaw, and as it is my old house I can't help but agree. Oh, you know how it is, you love them no matter what of course, but you can never help but hope…"
"Oh yes. Families like mine take tradition very seriously. Slytherin runs deep in the Malfoy blood."
Leach smiled. "To tradition then," he said, and finally, finally, he took a long sip of wine.
And when he drew back, a mildly concerned expression on his face, Abraxas's heart pounded. "Is something wrong, Minister?"
"Nothing, nothing, I just- well, I suppose I'm not used to such quality wine," he muttered, but he still looked somewhat skeptical, looking into his glass as if he expected to see mud at the bottom to explain the strange taste.
"I apologize- your secretary informed me that you preferred red, so I chose our finest merlot…"
"Oh no, an excellent choice- yours tastes all right, then?"
Abraxas had avoided his own glass, worried that the house elf might switch them by accident. But he had been very clear about the instructions, and Leach definitely seemed to have received the glass intended for him…
He lifted his glass and took a sip. "Oh yes," he confirmed, trying not to show his relief. "Perfectly pleasant."
"Hmm… you're sure- well, I really hate to ask but- you're sure that none of your servants could have- er- tampered with it?"
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Everyone employed in my home answers only to me and operates on my will alone. Are you… accusing me of something?" he said dangerously.
"I've had more than my fair share of merlot in my time, Mr. Malfoy," the Minister said quietly, all the usual geniality gone from his face. "All I can tell you is that it tastes wrong."
As the two were seated at opposite ends of the very long table, Abraxas had to stand up and walk over to be able to reach his setting. Looking Leach right in the eye, he picked up the glass and drank.
There it was. The bitter bite of poison.
"Tastes fine to me," he said in a low, sharp voice.
Leach looked surprised. "I… I'm so sorry, Mr. Malfoy. I just- paranoia got the best of me and I…"
"If you don't like the merlot, I can certainly open a bottle of something else. I'm sure you and I have... exceptionally different palates." It was almost therapeutic, to bury all the fear about what he had just done under a cold tone, to finally let on what he really felt about the foolish, Mudblood invertebrate he was expected to respect.
"No, no," Leach replied hastily. "I'm sure I've been rude enough already. This is fine, thank you."
And so, over the course of the meal, Leach drank the rest of the glass. And the very next day, if the rumors were true, the Minister started reporting strange systems to his friends and family. By the end of the week, he was taking an official leave, working solely from home and relying on his staff more. And by the end of the month, he had resigned.
He died three months, one week, and two days after his dinner at Malfoy Manor.
As for Abraxas, a single sip couldn't do the damage that an entire glass could. He retained his position and his image, but he was also markedly weaker than he was before. Even the smallest of illnesses left him bedridden for weeks, and it wasn't long until he needed a cane.
Some suspected, but there was no evidence- Abraxas had picked the poison specifically because it was so hard to detect. The only people who ever knew were himself and his oldest, most loyal house elf.
So many years later, the secret died with him. The obituaries informed readers that he had died of dragon pox and was survived by his son, Lucius, a daughter-in-law, and a young grandson, Draco.
What they didn't print was that he died with weak organs, few loved ones, and a stained soul, all of which, it could be argued, were the result of that fateful little dinner party.