Sorry guys, it's very short and nothing much happens, but I just wanted to explain Lucius' perspective and develop the Malfoy family dynamic a little more before chaos descends! Hopefully this will ensure that my version of events is plausible in terms of canon but not make you all hate Lucius too much for what he may or may not choose to do. I do try to keep in character as much as possible even if I am hopelessly sentimental and have to give Lucius noble motives for everything. Ok, rant over. Hope you enjoy, please review and I promise action and excitement in the next chapter.

-29- First Taste

"He's going to be a Slytherin," proclaimed Abraxas proudly, noting not only the silver and green dragon toy which little Draco clutched tightly to him, but also the bright, intelligent grey eyes which darted to his grandfather's face in an adorably suspicious manner.

"Of course he will be a Slytherin," said Lucius defensively, offended at the thought of anything else. "And the brightest, handsomest, most gifted child in the entire school."

"A true Malfoy," acknowledged the old man. "If you sliced him in half, he'd have a serpent engraved on his heart."

"Nobody's cutting him in half," said Lucius anxiously, too protective over his son to allow such a statement, even if metaphorical, to be uttered in his presence. "The very idea, father."

"Calm down, boy, it was a compliment. He's a fine lad. I'm glad to have met him before my end." Lucius sniffed. His father was looking more robust by the day, and was unlikely to die any time soon, to his slight disappointment. He had waited for three weeks before bringing the child to meet his grandfather, wanting to keep him all to himself and his wife for as long as possible. Inevitably, they had had a string of visitors hanging on the bell at every hour of the day since the news had spread, and he had had to endure the agony of having his precious son bundled around to any number of friends and relatives. The swell of pride at having him generally declared to be the most adorable baby in their living memory did a little to sooth the burn, but it was still a wrench to let the trembling-handed Griselda Marchbanks or the shifty Broadbent Blackburn, first cousin of his late mother, hold his little boy. Narcissa was even worse than he was, hovering protectively an inch from anyone holding the child and snatching him back as swiftly as was polite.

"We have already put him down for Hogwarts. He was accepted right away, of course," Lucius announced. His new favourite topic was my son, the genius. "Although we may consider Durmstrang for him if Dumbledore carries on as headmaster. Igor is a good friend of mine."

"It'll be Hogwarts or I'll be damned," said Abraxas belligerently. "If it was good enough for you it's good enough for your son. Lots of good names still send their children there."

"Well, Cissy and I will see, won't we?" Lucius hinted. "Here, let me have him back."

"I can manage," Abraxas protested, fending his son off with an elbow in an attempt to keep the child a little longer. Draco snuffled and wriggled a little, drawing the eyes of both the Malfoy men instantly.

"We've set up a trust fund in addition to your bequest," Lucius continued after a few moments. "Just to be on the safe side."

"I expect you've bought him his first broomstick, too?" Abraxas said slyly. Lucius looked discomfited. He had tried, but Narcissa had put her foot down until he was at least five.

"It's never too young to take an interest in your child's future," he defended.

"Quite right. I'm glad to see a proper sense of fatherly duty in you, boy. If I'd laid my chips down a couple of years ago I'd never have thought it of you." Lucius declined to respond to the double-edged compliment, and Abraxas chuckled. "Go back to your pretty wife, then, boy, I doubt you want to be stuck at an invalid's bedside all day. Mind you bring my grandson back to see me, though, and mind you look after him properly. You know what I mean."

Lucius did know what he meant. He meant, stay at home and do your duty as a Malfoy and as a husband and father, don't go gallivanting off doing the Dark Lord's bidding. He wasn't going to admit it to the old man, but for once, he agreed with him. He had spent the last three weeks convincing himself that the best way to protect his family was to serve the Dark Lord, but deep down he knew he was just too much of a coward to stop. He hated ever having to acknowledge he may have been mistaken, but more and more now he was questioning what exactly he had been thinking as short a time ago as two years. Giving his life over to a cause as noble as bringing power back to the purebloods as was their natural right had sounded mighty fine at the time; he remembered how he could almost taste the victory on his tongue even then, before the Mark had been emblazoned on his wrist. Since then, though, he had had more of a taste of what being a Death Eater really meant, and he wasn't sure that he was at all happy about it.

Freedom, power and glory were one thing, and a very tempting one at that. Even now, he wanted to ensure a revered place in society for him and his family, that his son would be richer and better connected than any other, and that he would not have to mix with a bunch of odious mudbloods and pussyfoot around, hiding in their own world to keep the muggles safe, muggles who should respect them as superiors and not mock them once a year by dressing up as warty, foolish hags and dismiss their powers as nonsense for the rest of the time. Even now, this concept tasted sweet to him. But what he would have to risk in order to get it, what he would have to sacrifice, made him doubt how much it really mattered.

The Dark Lord may talk of ridding the world of impurity, of taking over the Ministry, and he may be in a position where he had them all quaking in their boots, but Lucius knew that even if all this did come about, the world would be no safer for it, nor better for him or his. Voldemort, although he rewarded good work, was not a trusting master, and did not put any power in the hands of his Lieutenants unless he had rigid control over it, and anything done to further any plan but his own was punished fiercely, as were any mistakes made. If Lucius looked at it objectively, he knew that Voldemort was not above killing his own followers or bullying them into doing things they did not want to do if it suited him. It was all he could now do, therefore, to keep the Dark Lord happy, and allay any suspicions of his loyalty. It was not about achieving a goal which Lucius doubted would ever be a reality, or could ever be reached through Voldemort, who was increasingly obsessed with the prophecy and his own power and immortality, it was about keeping his credibility as a Death Eater and therefore securing the lives of his family in the only way that he still could.

He sighed as he pushed open the door of his home, listening to the sound of Draco's gurgling laugh as Lucius hoisted him a little higher in his arms, and Narcissa calling eagerly to him from the living room. Sometimes duty was difficult. There was no such thing as power and strength without risk and sacrifice, even for a Slytherin such as himself. What must life be like for the Gryffindor fools who would not go against their principles even to save themselves? Lucius knew what it meant to say that he would kill to preserve that which he loved. Narcissa had a much easier time of it, he thought. Now that she was a mother, she did not need to get involved in the complex and dangerous politics of it all, and she had never had to struggle as he had with the crumbling of all his old ideals and ambitions.

He forced the thoughts to the back of his mind and smiled widely as Narcissa entered the room, scooping her son out of his arms immediately and turning to plant a kiss on Lucius' lips, asking him about the visit, his father, whether Draco had been all right, in short, all the small, mundane things which now meant the world to him.