Summary:

For July, I rolled: Steve/Draco/Family

Steve's new mission is to convince a reluctant wizard to join their team.

Steve didn't mind going on a mission that didn't involve flinging his shield around or banging a few knuckleheads together. What he did mind was being sent to recruit someone who was clearly reluctant. The guy wanted to stay in prison rather than join their team for crying out loud!

And he wasn't even an American, so why the hell did he have to go wearing his Captain America uniform. No amount of patriotism was going to sway this Brit. Might have the opposite effect actually.

But orders were orders, and one thing he was good at was following them. Mostly. If they weren't too stupid.

"Here we are. Mind your step," his guide told him.

It was an underground prison dug into the rock itself of the Grand Canyon. It seemed a bit extreme, but was supposedly necessary to contain the magical humans, which were not the same thing as mutants, Asgardians or sorcerers he'd been told. The future just kept becoming more and more complicated. But at least it was cool down here. Nothing like the scorching heat above. The cells themselves were bare and dismal though, making normal prisons seem luxurious in comparison.

"Here's your guy," the guide said, as loquacious as ever.

Steve peered inside through the bars of the door and glimpsed a wraith of a man looking lost in thought. Steve cleared his throat as politely as possible, not wanting to startle the pale figure lest he break from the sudden movement.

"You again," he muttered when their eyes met with a wonderful accent that brought to mind a myriad of memories of his time with Peggy.

Steve smiled despite himself.

"I assure you this is our first meeting. Draco Malfoy, right? I'm-"

The prisoner snorted.

"Do you seriously think you need to introduce yourself? I doubt there's another bloke in the world wearing… that."

Steve looked down at his blue, red and white spandex uniform. He did have a point, and blamed this whole debacle on Fury.

"It's laundry day," he tried with a shrug, because humour was better than embarrassment, and always a good way to break the ice.

"A likely story," Draco said but there was a spark of fire back in his eyes at least. "But mine hasn't changed. I have no intention of joining your merry little band of do-gooders."

"You'd rather stay here? How do you not get bored to death?"

"Well, you could have brought me a book. But to answer your question, I'd rather stay here because I deserve to be here."

Steve's eyebrows rose, both at the unexpected answer and because Draco was opening up to him so quickly, when Fury had told him he was as tight lipped as a clam. His boss did have a tendency to rub people the wrong way though.

"Really? I was under the impression your own people back home exonerated you, and you're only locked up here because of an unfortunate tattoo."

"Unfortunate," Draco scoffed and rolled his sleeve up to reveal the tackiest tattoo in existence.

A snake slithering out of a skull? Really? It didn't even look special. He'd half expected it to move or something since it was such a big deal.

"It marks me as a Death Eater and Death Eaters deserve to be locked up. All of them. No exception. That's one thing you Yankees got right for once."

Steve looked at the young man in front of him. He hardly looked dangerous and seemed like a good sort. Weighed down by sadness and regrets… Steve could understand that. Whatever side of the war you fought on, there was loss, fear and destruction; orders you didn't want to obey and actions you weren't allowed to take out…

"You didn't want to be marked, did you?" Steve asked, following a hunch.

"My father was. I didn't have much choice, and if I refused, the Dark Lord would have taken it out on my mother. I've seen how he punished his followers…" he gulped and looked away. "I couldn't do that to her."

Steve nodded. Draco had just been a kid at the time too, and Steve would have probably done the same in his boots. Many people did all the time, that didn't mean they were bad people.

"The Malgrés-nous," Steve said.

"What?"

"That's what they called themselves. The Malgrés-nous. During the war, the second world war that is, some French soldiers were conscripted in the German army against their will. If they refused, their whole family were deported which was as good as a death sentence. Do you think all of those soldiers deserved to be imprisoned too?"

"It's not the same."

"Isn't it?"

"I'm a Malfoy. Everyone has told me I'm my father's son through and through ever since I was old enough to understand. But the things he did… I never could have imagined… and I know he wasn't imperiused. I don't want to become like him."

"So you think staying here doing nothing will save you from that. I suppose you're right, but you must realize it's-"

"Don't."

"... the coward's way out."

"I am not a coward!"

Steve shrugged.

"Then prove it. Join us, and prove through your actions you're a good person, that you're not like your father."

Draco gritted his teeth as he stared defiantly at him. Steve was having some difficulty not smirking because he knew he had gotten through to him and that he was about to capitulate.

"Malgrés moi," Draco said in perfect French, with a hint of derision. "Maybe that should be my family's new motto. We do seem to end up doing a lot of things against our will after all."

"So you accept?" Steve asked with a broad grin this time.

"As long as I don't have to wear that," Draco agreed, sneering at his Spandex attire.

Steve wasn't even mad. His mission was a success and he had a feeling he had found someone who would finally be able to out-snark Tony.