**Thank you all for such wonderful reviews! Please keep them coming, they keep this story alive for me and help me to carry on writing, even when I am finding it difficult. This chapter has been quite hard for me to complete, so apologies for how long is has taken me to write it. The next one will involve Lucius visiting the prisoner's in his home and Potter's visit to Malfoy Manor ...**

Lucius had never been so badly punished by the Dark Lord as he had been in the last few days: all he knew was that his wand had failed the madman and that he was being held responsible. Never had the Cruciatus curse been so vehemently used against him as it was now. Each day, Lucius was brought to the brink of permanent insanity and back. The curse had taken an awful toll on his already fragile state meaning he had to spend the majority of his time in bed recovering, only to be hit by the next bout the next day.

"Pl-please my Lord, I can't take much more of this." His voice was barely a whisper and the air of superiority it once carried had long been replaced with a whimper of pure terror. Lucius was openly sobbing in front of his Master and the other Death Eaters, he did not dare look to his right where his wife and son were stood lest he did something that the Dark Lord took an even greater dislike to.

"I will decide what you can and cannot take more of, Lucius." Sneering, the Dark Lord beckoned Narcissa over to him.

Over the past few days Narcissa had become more and more fearful for her husband. He had not so much as said a wrong word to the Dark Lord but their master was punishing Lucius more frequently and much harsher than she had ever seen him punish one of 'his own'. The reprieves were so short that she often spent the evening reading to her increasingly weak husband whilst he sipped brandy and ate some fine chocolates; no longer did she deny him anything.

For the first time, she was frightened that the Dark Lord would take her husband's life. The selfish side of her decided she'd rather have him living as an insane zombie ruined by the Cruciatus curse than for the Dark Lord to murder him. However, she knew in reality that death would be a much kinder proposition than the other prospect. Now she had to be strong, for Lucius. "My Lord?" Narcissa inclined her head speaking softly, her voice too was now laced with fear.

"Narcissa Malfoy or have you renounced your married name in shame?" Voldemort mocked, knowing that even after all these years the Malfoy couple were still hopelessly in love. "Anyhow, you are still legally married to this disgrace." He waved his hand towards Lucius, smirking. "It's a pity that he is still my chief financier, otherwise I'd take great pleasure in destroying what is left of him; I believe the Longbottoms are probably getting a little lonely in St. Mungo's are they not Bellatrix?"

Bellatrix nodded her head. "Yes my Lord." She cackled, hoping to get a little of the action.

Upon the mention of Neville's parents Lucius' head jerked up towards his wife, he was so terribly afraid of what was going to happen next. Not only did the Dark Lord cast the Cruciatus on him, he also made Lucius relive the worst moments in his life: the grief for lost loved ones hit him the hardest and the Dark Lord knew it.

He had always felt guilty about the Longbottoms, what Bellatrix did to the pureblood couple with a son the same age as Lucius' own was abhorrent and being affiliated with the organisation that had caused so much grief had made Lucius feel extremely guilt ridden over the years. Not that anyone was to know Lucius' weaknesses, others presumed him to not have a conscience at all. He'd joined Voldemort as a foolish young man expecting to help to create a better society for the pureblood wizarding race. However, he learnt quickly that Dark Lord's idea of politics was not what Lucius had expected and yet out of fear he played along, just as he still tried to even though he knew it was wrong. Nobody crossed Lord Voldemort.

"I have not renounced my married name nor my marriage, my Lord. It is unbecoming for a pureblood witch not to stand by her husband through the good and the not so good times, as I am sure you know, my Lord. I do, of course, presume that your aims and my aims are the same: to rid our world of filth." Narcissa smiled sickly sweetly at the Dark Lord. She was fearful of the man but couldn't stand for him treating her husband so cruelly. It was her duty, as a wife, to honour and defend Lucius to the best of her abilities.

"I might make you into a loyal servant yet, Narcissa." Voldemort's twisted smile turned into a knowing look at Narcissa Malfoy. It had not escaped his notice that she had still not been marked; despite no longer being pregnant. "It is my belief that you are not with child at the moment. Of course our aims are the same but I have to question if yours and my aims are the same as your husband's? He had constantly failed me so many times that I now question his motives and whether or not he is in fact a traitor."

"And I can assure you, my Lord that Lucius is not a traitor. Whilst my husband is a clever man, he has not one ounce of common sense; Lucius struggles with many basic tasks, whilst he can plan missions right down to the minute he will fail you out in the field as you have found. Every war needs a variety of roles to be completed by it's soldiers." Narcissa paused to quickly gather her thoughts. She knew that the speech would either work or backfire on both her and her husband. Thankfully, the Dark Lord had largely left Draco alone over these past few days. "What I mean is you have some excellent foot soldiers, my Lord; in Bella, Dolohov, the Carrows. You would not send Bella, for example, to physically intimidate opponents without her wand like you do Greyback. Each of us has a purpose: Lucius can be extremely dense were practical subjects are involved but he's a fantastic theorist and planner. He's a politician, my Lord and once you take victory you'll need politicians like Lucius." Hoping against all hope that she had managed to trick the Dark Lord once more, Narcissa prayed her suspicions were right about the self styled Lord.

"So well argued Narcissa, I should perhaps wonder if you are really the politician? Anyhow you are dismissed as of now, all of you." The Dark Lord left in a black swish of robes.

Lucius however was still knelt on the floor, staring at his wife whilst tears slid down his pale cheeks. The Dark Lord had today made Lucius relive the death of his mother, something which he had tried to keep hidden away for many years. Having only just turned thirteen years of age when the tragic accident happened he had been at a very fragile age to lose a parent, let alone a parent who was a fantastic friend to a very lonely boy. Whilst Lucius had been popular at school, he had no close friends; not once did he receive an owl over the summer and having no siblings, Lucius relied on his parents for company.

It was not Narcissa but a confused and distraught Draco who helped his father to his feet. Having been made to suffer the Cruciatus curse once for a matter of seconds, Draco knew that his father must be suffering from the curse but wondered why it was taking him so long to emotionally recover. He gently raised Lucius' head which was trying to look towards the floor for his own eyes to meet his father's watery pale ones. "Dad, what's happened to you? Why can't you be strong anymore?" Draco's words were innocent and childlike as he led his father to sit by one of the many open fires in the Manor.

Even though the fire was roaring, Lucius was cold and felt like the weight of the world was crushing him mercilessly; at least now he had regained a little composure but even that no longer mattered. Realising he had not answered his son's question, he contemplated a response; how could anyone be strong in his position? Lucius wondered. Shifting slightly uncomfortably in his seat he turned slightly towards his son. However, their eyes did not meet as Lucius' were still staring at the floor. "Life has happened to me. Not my sheltered, privileged, well guarded life but the harsh realities that I hope against all hope that you'll never have to experience, Draco. He does not just physically maim, he mentally tortures me as well. He makes me relive the most horrible moments of my life, whilst I beg him to save me from death. I'll never be strong again even if he can't do anything to me." Once again, Lucius' voice cracked with emotion sounding so pitiful and weak. It was not the voice anyone was used to hearing from Lucius, apart from his wife.

Narcissa had seen Lucius through many low points in his life but never anything like this. However, unlike their son, she at least knew that the persona he fabricated for the public eye was far from his real personality. She knew that whilst Lucius didn't have any problem deceiving and lying to others; he had a conscience were violence was involved, especially if it involved children. Smiling at her son, Narcissa knew that he must be terribly confused as Lucius had often put on an act to him as well. "Draco, dear, your father is going through a terrible stage in his life. He isn't the unstoppable force that he professes to be in public." To comfort her son, Narcissa put her arm around him and pulled him close to her. "We'll get through this together, as a family." She assured.

Over the next few hours Lucius sat peacefully by the fireside, listening to some of his favourite pieces of music, alone. Narcissa had took their son to the grounds; no doubt to play Quidditch with Draco. Smiling to himself, Lucius remembered precious moments spent with his own mother. She too was a musician; a professional standard violinist that had allowed a clunky childhood Lucius to accompany the beautiful sonatas that she played but that was taken away from him far too early. Before he knew it, he found himself at forty-three years of age wallowing in self pity: if only his mother could hear him play the piano now and if only she had been there to guide him from the evil he was all too easily persuaded to join as a foolish teenager. As if by magic; Lucius' mother's portrait appeared in the frame hanging on the opposite wall of the drawing room.

Filling the entire room was the calm and serene voice of Lucius' mother "I know you play beautifully, I listen to you play every day, Lucius and I'm so proud. As for getting involved with the wrong crowd – I always told you to not be so quick as to join others in political activism but you were too young to understand." Her almost identical blue-grey eyes sparkled in the painting, she was obviously an intellectual witch and was the one Lucius had inherited most of his features from. "You always were magically able but perhaps not in the traditional sense of the word and it always seemed to bother you. That, of course, was your father's fault. Constantly comparing you to that young Miss Black in Transfiguration, I'll never forgive him for that – he tried to push you in the same direction as him, yet you always took after me. Being adept in the Arts is not a bad thing Lucius, talking one's way out of trouble is much better than duelling as you later found out. Though I'm not proud of the fact you joined the Dark Lord and had I been alive, I could have told you enough about that man to dissuade you. However, your performance in court after was all the proof I needed that words go further than foolish wand waving." At that the aristocratic looking portrait winked cheekily at her son.

Lucius considered his mother's words. She had always been a wise witch and had never humiliated him as his father had done, choosing instead to encourage him in what he had been good at. However, it was rare that her portrait spoke. Usually, she took her place beside Lucius' father's portrait in the grand entrance hall of Malfoy Manor. Whilst she was a strong witch, she had been often reminded of her place in the family and her husband hadn't always been a kind man to her as he never loved her in the way he loved Narcissa. Therefore, she remained in Abraxas' shadow; rarely speaking unless spoken to, just as his father had liked it. Lucius remembered just how much he had hated his father at times and yet he knew that the man had only tried to do his best by his family, in the only way he knew. "Mother, how did you know what I was thinking?" He asked tentatively. In truth, he felt as if at any moment he'd lose his dignity once more by sobbing in front of his mother's portrait and asking tearfully why God had to take her so suddenly.

"A woman's intuition, Lucius." Her perfect received pronunciation cut through the cold air before she smirked at her only child. "I'm sure somewhere deep within the lovely Miss Black has some too." Her voice was laced with harsh sarcasm before she seemed to reconsider her bitterness. "Don't listen to me; I'm just bitter that a girl has stolen my little boy's heart." The pale portrait's smug smirk was replaced with an amused one. "Please, take heed of her words: everything will be alright. I suspect the world will have to deal with you for a good while longer." She chuckled at Lucius' mock scowl at the reference to his own mortality.

Tears had begun to involuntary form in Lucius' eyes as his mother's words sunk in and she silently disappeared as quickly as she had arrived. "Because only the good die young." Lucius whispered to himself as in his mind he was transported back thirty-two years.

The sights, sounds and smells of Diagon Alley had always been intoxicating but for a young boy there with his first letter from Hogwarts, Diagon Alley was positively euphoric. It was not as if Lucius had not visited the famous high street before but today he was here for his own purpose and not for some shady dealing with his father.

"Wand, books then school robes – I do hope I'm in Slytherin, mother! Oh then a trip to the quill shop and the Quidditch shop and the music shop. Does Hogwarts have a piano as nice as ours, mother?" Lucius' excited and very animated child voice was whining about the fact that first years couldn't take brooms to Hogwarts so his mother would have to compensate him by buying an eagle feather quill and some new music; that was until he managed to bump into an older looking boy with red hair and scruffy robes. "Do you go to Hogwarts?" Was all Lucius said, hardly even noticing how poverty stricken the other boy looked.

"I apologise for my son's behaviour. Lucius, what do you have to say to" Abruptly, his mother stopped talking and a sneer took over her usually beautiful features. "Weasley." Her voice was tense. "Come Lucius we must get to Ollivander's." Before Lucius had a chance to apologise or ask any further questions his mother had dragged him in the opposite direction. That was the first time Lucius had laid eyes upon Arthur Weasley.

Being quickly transported back to reality: Lucius started to hear voices descending on his only place of sanctuary. "Ah there you are Malfoy, we've been searching for you since we got back from our mission." The familiar voice of Goyle wafted through the cold air.

"Have you really?" Sneered Lucius as he looked up to face the ugly pair. The duo had been of some use to physically intimidate others but were of no use to him now, not since he lost his authority.

"Bloody hell Malfoy, what's happened to you? They all say Azkaban is bad but I didn't realise it was that bad." Crabbe sniggered whilst looking around the room, noticing that the usually immaculate house was looking slightly shabby, with many of the family heirlooms covered with a thick layer of dust.

"Haha, very funny Crabbe. What do you want?"

At this the pair seemed to get rather angry, pacing towards Lucius with a look of malice etched onto both of their faces. However, it was Crabbe who spoke first. "The Dark Lord is insane and you always said you wouldn't let it get this far, Malfoy." His voice was cold and menacing, there wasn't any hint of friendship.

Goyle proceeded to finish off the sentence. "You've betrayed us and now he's trying to involve our children. You better stop this or Voldemort is the last person you ought to be worrying about."

Before Lucius knew it, he had involuntarily flinched at Goyle using the word Voldemort but he quickly recovered his composure and a look of cold superiority was plastered all over his pale features. "Don't be ridiculous. You both knew the risks when you joined. In fact, if I remember rightly, it was you two who decided to join first." Lucius scowled before mocking Crabbe's thick voice "Count Malfoy in. Malfoy's always up for a laugh." Lucius rolled his eyes before proceeding. "Oh yes, Malfoy is always up for the laugh that is spending a year in a hell hole prison only to return home to find he is wandless and his son is paying the ultimate sacrifice. Don't you two even dare to come to me with your woes." By now Lucius was almost shouting. He knew that he had lost every ounce of his self control, something which Lucius had always prided himself on. As he spoke, he realised that he would never hold a position of authority ever again, not even within his own home.