3. Sins of the father

Draco had spoken not three words to his mother since his refusal to withdraw the evidence from his own trials. She had chosen not to join him for dinner, and only nodded at him in response to his greeting that morning. He had been out on the grounds all day, trying to escape the stifling prison that Malfoy Manor had become. Sometimes the memories of what had happened there were so vivid he could barely breathe. He walked around the garden, breathing in the crisp autumn air, ignoring the white peacocks that eyed him with mild curiosity, and trying to forget exactly how important today was. Would he be free, finally, or would his father manage to talk himself out of his precarious position yet again?

That sudden thought filled him with such all-consuming fear, he froze in place and remained standing there for so long that one of the peacock chicks ventured closer and closer to him, eventually clambering onto his foot. Only the clucking of the approaching mother peacock snapped him back to reality. He noticed the peacock's angry hisses and glanced down to see a silvery white chick stare up at him. It was such an innocent sight in the gloom that had become his life that he almost laughed and he gently shook his foot to dislodge the chick from his dragonhide boots.

"Off you go, little one," he murmured, "be free and happy. One of us should be."

Draco and his mother had both chosen to wait for news in the little drawing room, pretending not to notice the glances they each sent to the other. Narcissa kept her hands occupied with needlework and Draco flipped through the pages of an old Potions book without seeing a word. The crackle of the hearth was loud in the tense silence. Draco knew his mother remained silent only to make him speak first as if it was a contest she was determined to win. But he had long outgrown the urge to fill an uncomfortable silence with babble, having learned the hard way not to let such tactics draw him into saying more than he wanted to. And at that moment, he had no desire to say anything.

A house elf popped into the drawing room, the sound of Apparition loud and startling.

"Master Goldstein has arrived, Master."

"Bring him here, Essie," Draco ordered. He noticed his mother's mouth twitch slightly and all but stopped himself from rolling his eyes at her. If she wanted to play a childish control game, she could play it on her own.

The tension in the room seemed to peak as soon as the elf Disapparated. Draco refused to look at his mother and stared at the door instead. His hands clenched and unclenched restlessly, the book discarded on a side table. Before his nerves could get the better of him, the door opened and Goldstein walked in.

"Welcome, Mr. Goldstein. Take a seat, would you care for some refreshments? Tea, coffee or something stronger?"

His mother had risen and fell into the role of gracious hostess without faltering, though her face was as pale as Draco had ever seen it, and her voice trembled slightly.

Draco merely nodded and forced his hands to relax.

"Thank you, milady. Perhaps you have some Elven Wine decanted?"

Draco nodded at Essie, who was still hovering in the doorway, and swallowed. Goldstein's face was neutral but there was a slight twitch near his left eye and Draco was certain the request for alcohol could only mean something had gone wrong. Goldstein never asked for alcohol.

They waited for the elf to pop back into the room, a tray with ruby-coloured wine in a crystal decanter and three glasses wobbling precariously as she carried it towards the coffee table. When she Disapparated, Draco offered to pour the wine, serving Mr. Goldstein before his mother. It was an insult he would never have dared to make in any other situation and clearly conveyed his irritation and anger towards her.

"So…" Draco drawled, staring intently at the wine he was swirling around in his glass. The firelight played interesting tricks on it, he mused absently, sometimes the wine looked almost golden, and at other times as dark as… blood. He blinked and put the glass down with unnecessary force.

Narcissa held her glass in one hand, frozen in her seat. She watched the lawyer, lips pursed, only her too-white knuckles now betraying the impatience with which she waited to hear her husband's fate.

Goldstein sipped his wine, then cleared his throat delicately.

"The Wizengamot judged today in Lord Malfoy's trial. The verdict was unanimous."

"What did they decide?" Draco asked through clenched teeth when the lawyer hesitated a little too long.

"Lord Malfoy was found guilty on all charges. He was sentenced to… the Kiss."

Draco blinked, unsure of what he ought to feel. An image of Lucius Malfoy teaching him to fly on his first broom came to mind unbidden, and his heart clenched for the father he had lost. At the same time, he felt like a burden was lifted off his shoulders. His father would be punished for his crimes, and this time he would be unable to come back. He was free. Free to live the life he wanted. No more interference.

A gasp broke the silence, and Draco glanced at his mother. She clutched at her chest as if the news had torn her heart out. He did feel sorry for her, knowing she had loved her husband deeply, loved him still despite his actions during the War. The stem of the glass she held shattered in her grip, the wine spilling onto her robes and the carpet.

"No! No, no, no! Not the Kiss! Please no!"

Narcissa's whispers grew louder and louder until Draco jumped up and walked over to her.

"Mother…"

She started crying, quiet little sobs that pierced his heart more sharply than loud wails ever would.

"Come, Mother, let me take you to your room."

He helped her up and guided her out of the room.

"I will be right back," he said to Goldstein before he closed the door behind them.

He took a bracing breath before he entered the drawing room again, some time later.

"How is Lady Malfoy?" Goldstein asked.

"I gave her a Calming Potion and a Dreamless Sleep Potion. It seemed prudent."

"I see."

The lawyer stared intently at the young Malfoy, who seated himself before him with his usual poise.

"I'm afraid I have more bad news."

Draco cocked his head, one eyebrow raised, as if to say, was this news so bad then?

"There is more to the sentence. Lucius Malfoy will receive the Kiss, in a week's time. You and your mother will be allowed to visit him until then, but you will not be allowed to be present when… when the time comes."

Draco nodded, though he had no intention to visit his father. It might give his mother some comfort.

"My mother will appreciate the chance to say goodbye, I'm sure."

Goldstein sipped his wine again - it really was excellent wine - and took a deep breath before explaining the other part of Lucius Malfoy's sentence.

"The Wizengamot has also stripped your family from their title and has decreed the Malfoy possessions forfeit. This includes the Malfoy vault in Gringotts, the businesses, the houses… I'm sorry. I tried to argue against it, but the Wizengamot would not be swayed."

Draco swallowed hard. That was… unexpected. His mind was reeling. Losing the Manor? No more Malfoy fortune to fall back on? Where would he live? What would he do?

"I should point out that the Wizengamot did not say that the Ministry could confiscate all possessions belonging to the House of Malfoy." Goldstein allowed himself a thin smile. "They only mentioned Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire and the house in London. They also only specified the Malfoy vault at Gringotts in London, so your personal vaults are safe, and any properties and vaults abroad… I saw no need to bring those to their attention."

Draco didn't quite return the smile, but one corner of his mouth turned up in appreciation, and the whirlwind of panicked thoughts quieted down a little. Losing the main vault was a setback, of course, but the Malfoys still had some assets in various other countries. If only the English Gringotts vault was mentioned in the verdict, then he and his mother would still be able to live comfortably enough, if not quite in the lavish circumstances to which she was accustomed. Losing the title was a slight he barely felt. He had no use for the false respectability it had accorded his family in the past.

"The verdict was pronounced only an hour ago, so I have no further particulars. I know the vault was closed immediately, but I don't know when they will ask you to leave the house. I am meeting with Ministry representatives tomorrow. I'll try to ensure you can take some personal belongings from the vault, as I believe your mother kept some of her own jewellery in there, and I hope I can give you time to find a new place to live, but…"

Goldstein pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly stalling.

"You must understand, Mr. Malfoy, that this verdict is meant to punish you and your mother as much as it is intended to humiliate your father before he loses his soul. Many people resent you and Lady Malfoy for escaping conviction during your trials, and evicting you from your home with barely the clothes on your back is just the kind of punishment they would love to see. It would be extremely humiliating for Lucius, too, to know that he was the one who lost his wife and son the title and ancestral estate, with no access to the old vaults, right before he is Kissed."

Draco still opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again. His mind had barely begun to comprehend that he and his mother would soon be homeless - well, in this country at least - and now his lawyer informed him that the public wanted to see them suffer despite their acquittal? Clearly he had lived too sheltered a life since his trial. A sharp and bitter laugh escaped involuntarily.

"So even in his soulless state he'll manage to screw up my life," he muttered.

The bitterness in his voice didn't shock the lawyer. After the pensieve memories he'd seen, he knew the young Malfoy had reasons enough to be angry at his father.

"Maybe you could see it as a chance to start again," he suggested. His voice now had lost the impersonal tone he'd used to announce the verdict, sounding more gentle. After all, he had a son of his own of that age, and he couldn't help but feel for Draco Malfoy.

"Find an occupation, maybe, build a new life. Maybe move abroad, to France or Italy, where the War didn't touch the Wizarding communities and the Malfoy name may still hold some clout. Or find a new purpose here, I know the Minister would help you in any profession you may want to take up and make sure you are given a second chance. Not that it would be easy, it's still too soon for people to forget. But once Lucius is gone, maybe they will be more inclined to move on. You do have options, Draco."

Draco was startled by the use of his first name, wondering when they had come to such familiar terms, but shrugged it off, realising Goldstein was trying to help him get his thoughts in order.

"I will discuss this with my mother tomorrow. I assume we'll have at least a day or so to get used to the idea?"

Goldstein nodded. "I'm sure I can negotiate reasonable terms with the Ministry and ensure you have time to make arrangements. After all, the Ministry acts only as swiftly as the triplicate paperwork gets through the appropriate channels. I will owl you as soon as I have more news. Is there anything else I can do for you right now, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco only shook his head, his hands cupping his wine glass, staring but unseeing.

"In that case, I will leave you now. I am sorry, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco only barely refrained from snorting. He rose, shook Goldstein's hand and went through all the motions of a gracious host sending a guest home, but his mind was elsewhere. So much for freedom. His father may soon no longer have a hold over him, but the Wizengamot verdict ensured he would still pay the price for his father's sins. Curse the man to Hell and back.

Draco hardly slept that night. He did not look forward to telling his mother they would lose the Manor, their money and their income. But, come morning, he knew he could not put it off and the communication had to be made. He joined her at breakfast, absently noting the dreamless sleep potion must have done her good. She looked her usual calm self, if a little paler.

"Good morning, Mother."

"Draco."

He poured coffee into his cup, and waited for his meal to appear before him.

"I hope you made my excuses to Mr. Goldstein yesterday," his mother said.

"I'm sure he expected some kind of reaction, Mother, considering the news he brought."

"I hope we shall be granted an opportunity to say goodbye?"

Her voice trembled slightly, and Draco thought he only noticed because he was listening for it.

"Goldstein said we can visit, but we can't be there when…"

Draco sighed. Much as he hated his father, he couldn't bring himself to say those words aloud in front of his mother.

"I see."

Narcissa turned back to the fruit on her plate, moving her fork around but never eating.

"There is more," Draco said quietly, staring intently at his own plate. The eggs were fluffy and just the right consistency, but the smell seemed to turn his stomach.

Narcissa's head snapped up and her eyes fixed on her son.

"The Wizengamot has declared the Malfoy possessions forfeit. They have already confiscated the Malfoy vault at Gringotts. They will take the businesses. We will be evicted from the Manor."

A loud clank told him Narcissa had dropped her fork on the plate, but when he looked up at her, her face betrayed no emotion.

"Goldstein is negotiating with the Ministry today, he will try to give us some time to make plans, but I think we should prepare to leave immediately. The public was not content to see either of us pardoned at our trials, and the Wizengamot was all too happy to listen to their clamour for justice. The judgement passed on Lucius will not have an impact on him alone. We are meant to lose everything. Our home, our income, our status… Complete humiliation."

Draco paused, then smirked, but the amusement did not quite reach his eyes.

"Of course they were a little careless in the formulation of the verdict. We still have our personal vaults, and they cannot touch our foreign assets. The humiliation they envisaged will not be quite as complete as they pictured. But we may not be able to draw on those foreign funds for a while, to make sure they do not suddenly remember to include it in an amended verdict. We may have to retrench, at least for a while..."

Draco's eyes wandered around the dining room, the long mahogany table with enough space for twenty guests, the gild-framed paintings on the walls, the rich silver curtains and the pale green silk covering the walls. Yes, he thought, they would have to scale back considerably without the Malfoy fortune. He was unsure about the state of their French vaults, and though they were by no means poor, their income would be severely reduced.

"What are our options?" Narcissa's question brought his attention back to his mother, and he glanced at her before answering.

"We could find a smaller house somewhere in a wizarding village, and live quietly. I went over the bank statements of our personal vaults yesterday and we could live comfortably for a while with that money. I might find an occupation to add to our income, if anyone would ever consider employing me," Draco began, ticking the options off on his fingers.

"We can also move abroad, go somewhere the War didn't have such an influence and build a new life for ourselves. I'm sure the Ministry will let us go now Lucius' trial has ended. Those are our choices now. I cannot think of any other course of action."

"We are not running away," Narcissa seethed.

"A small cottage somewhere on a small budget it is, then, for you at least," Draco responded laconically.

"What about you? Do you want to leave England? Leave your home and heritage behind?"

Draco stood up, pushing his untouched plate away.

"I have not yet decided what to do. I honestly no longer care about this house, or my heritage. The house has nothing but bad memories and I will be glad to leave it behind."

"But it's our home, Draco, you can't let this happen without a fight!" Narcissa exclaimed, an edge of panic to her tone.

"I can and I will. I'd be glad if I never have to lay eyes on this place again. I could live happily anywhere knowing that I will never again walk into a room and be assaulted by the memories of tortured Muggles, that horrid snake or the Dark Lord presiding over his gatherings." Draco suppressed a shudder and started towards the door.

"Oh Draco! What would your father…"

"I lost my father five years ago," Draco snapped. "The man who was sentenced yesterday might as well have been a stranger. I could care less about him or what he thinks or expects."

"And will you tell him that when you visit?"

Narcissa was also standing now, her voice a dangerous whisper.

"I have no intention of telling him anything, as I won't be visiting. Go see him if you want, Mother, I have nothing to say to him."

At those words, he turned around and stalked out of the breakfast room, his shoulders stiff and hands clenched in fists.

Narcissa sagged back into her chair, her mask of composure shattering into helpless tears.

Zacharias Goldstein was back at the Manor sooner than even he had expected. The Ministry officials had already made their decisions and none of his arguments had changed their minds.

"More bad news, Mr. Goldstein?" Draco enquired, as he gestured for the other man to take a seat.

"Just clarifications, sir, milady," Goldstein responded, a twitch at his left eye betraying his nerves.

"So when are we to leave Malfoy Manor? Pray tell, Mr. Goldstein, there is no need to delay the inevitable."

Draco hated the uncertainty of not knowing, and he hoped whatever Goldstein had to tell them would help him decide what he wanted to do next. He had no desire to live the life of a country gentleman alongside his mother, pretending nothing had changed.

"You will have to leave on the day Lord Malfoy receives the Kiss. Next Friday. The Aurors will check whatever belongings you want to take. They want to make sure no Dark Objects leave the premises. Your Ladyship will be allowed to take your personal jewels from the Malfoy vault, as I understand some of the jewels came from the Black line?"

Narcissa merely inclined her head in assent. Although her eyes were still slightly red and worry lines creased her brow, she kept her composure throughout the lawyer's explanation.

"The Manor will be gifted to one of the Aurors who has proven himself during the War," he continued, carefully omitting the name he knew would cause trouble. "The content of the vaults will be used for rebuilding our society."

"Who?"

Goldstein swallowed, and refused to look at Draco while he responded to the question.

"Auror Potter, I believe."

"Harry Potter?"

"That's the one."

Draco let out a bark of laughter. "Oh, he must enjoy that. First taking my whole family into custody, now receiving the ancestral home of his arch enemy in recompense for his actions during the War... They have a strange sense of humour at the Ministry."

"I believe he and Auror Weasley are charged with removing all traces of Dark magic, but the property will ultimately be given to Auror Potter."

"No! I will not have blood traitors and mudbloods spoiling the halls of my home!" Narcissa exclaimed.

"Mother, there is not much we can do. And you forget, those blood traitors and muggleborns won the War. We're nothing now. We lost. We lost everything."

"I will not accept this," Narcissa repeated, her voice now cold and determined.

Goldstein cleared his throat.

"Your Ladyship may want to consider not using such terms in public," he admonished gently, straightening his cuffs to avoid looking at her. "I have one more message," he continued, before Narcissa could object. "You have permission to visit Lord Malfoy every day from now until next Friday. You will not be permitted to attend the execution, but you may be with him until just before that moment. There is no restriction on the time you spend together, but you are, of course, not permitted to stay outside visiting hours."

"Is that it, then?" Draco asked.

"I believe so, Mr. Malfoy. Unless you have anything else to discuss with me, I will take my leave."

Draco dismissed the lawyer with an impatient hand gesture, leaving it to his mother to say a proper goodbye to their guest.

As soon as the lawyer had gone, Narcissa spat, "The Weasleys! Potter! Those blood traitors! I will not stand for it. I will not have the halls of Malfoy Manor contaminated by those Mudblood lovers! I…"

Narcissa's mouth kept moving for a few seconds more before she realised she had been silenced. She glared at her son, who was still pointing his wand at her.

"You will do well to remember who won the War, Mother. Such language may get you into Azkaban yet. Perhaps you want to join your husband after all? I'll also remind you that in less than a week, I will be the head of this pathetic family, and I forbid you to do anything to make the Potters' stay in this house difficult. No hexing the rooms or furniture. No cursing the doors or gardens. The house is no longer ours, the sooner you accept that, the sooner you can move on. The Malfoy name is no longer what it once was. We are despised and ridiculed. We are spat upon by the society that once trembled in awe when we entered a room. We are nothing. Charity cases, objects of pity to those who were once our equals. And the only ones to blame are yourself and Lucius. You know this. You know it's true. Had I had the chance, I would have taken a different path. But it is what it is. We need to deal with this world, as it is now, a world where blood status and heritage matter less than character and virtue." He paused, his eyes flicking over his mother, who had flushed bright red, whether from anger or the effort to reverse the spell, he could not say. "I wonder how you will measure up in this brave new world."

He left the room, removing the silencing spell with a quick flick of his wand. His mother's outraged screams followed him until he closed the door to his bedroom. He collapsed onto the window seat and hugged his knees to his chest as he looked out over the grounds, murmuring to himself.

"Will she come with them? Will she think of me when she walks these gardens? Or has she banished all thoughts of me from her mind? Can she ever forgive me?"