Disclosure Hp belongs to JKR. The storyline, new character development, new events, and new characters are my intellectual property. Glorioux

This story has contributions from Savva.

Prologue

Lucius visited his second cousin, Antonin Dolohov's Palace in Finland the year Draco was born. Dolohov's mother was Abraxas' first cousin. She was French and married into the Dolohov's who was immensely rich and members of the Muggle royal family. They had hidden after the Bolshevik rebellion (those animals) and had traveled only via portkey or apparition ever since.

They lived in their Saint Petersburg Palace (Leningrad for a while, imbeciles) after the Revolution and stayed hidden from Muggles' eyes for years to come, with all their shopping done in Finland and brought back to their home. He did not want to leave the motherland, his Russia, his home. Alas, after years of hiding, the wait was getting too long, and the family moved to Finland for most of the year, spending summers on the Baltic Sea. The pesky Muggles, they came, and they went; the trick was patience.

Lucius loved the place, elegant and decadent; he could imagine the old balls. As usual, they discussed Pureblood ideology while eating fish delicacies and drinking fine champagne. Antonin once again argued the pros and cons of following the Dark Lord, whom he was more than a little suspicious of. His family had already seen too much, and he was not so sure Tom Riddle was playing with a full deck of cards. Riddle reminded him of more than one paranoid Muggle tyrant, and he told Lucius about his feelings. However, Lucius was not one to give up. Ever the consummated salesperson, he finally talked his much younger cousin into the bad commitment. The Dolohov and Malfoy joined fortunes and allegiances needed to support the maniac during his destructive quest, a fact that would always haunt Antonin, and he wished to take back if not for the one thing that had changed his life forever.

During the second coming of Snake-man, as Antonin called him, he told Lucius he was fed up and was leaving. He did not want to join the mission to retrieve the prophecy.

"Lucius hears me well, N.O., and no is no. I am going back to my beloved Dacha by the Baltic Sea. There are some fine witches to be shagged, mouths to kiss, bums to squeeze, tits to savored, not necessarily in that order. And what do I have here? The demented Bellatrix, I hate that witch. All the time cupping a feel, she is the second coming of Rasputin, in female form, that is. She has bad breath, and she stinks." As he talked, he made expressive gestures that had Lucius laughing hard. The more that he laughed, the more agitated his cousin became, and the more he gesticulated.

"Go ahead and laugh, if it makes you feel better, you are so juvenile, one day you will grow up, but I doubt it, if others only knew the real Malfoy, phew. To make it worse, and is just not fair, you get the nice witch, and I get what, to share rooms with Fenrir, who claims to despise human hygiene, at least while he is here, disgusting, just nasty. Did you know what I find rather sad? I have seen the phony when he is Lord Greyback; he is a much more pleasant being. I wonder why he loves to pretend his evil lore persona. I find it boring. He loves his damn costume, scaring everyone, so juvenile."

Antonin was looking at the fire while drinking a glass of champagne and snacking on caviar blintzes, "good sturgeon, not too bad." He looked every inch the aristocrat he was. "You can fight if you like; it is no longer my fight. I will fuck any pretty mudblood. Blood is not important if the witch is the right one. My grandmother was Anastasia Romanov; she was of better stock than all the witches in London and a mudblood. Well, she was a blueblood, a name as stupid as the name mudblood; everyone's blood is red." He paused and drank a glass of bubbly in one sip.

"My cher cousin, it is high time to find a wide hip little witch to bear Dolohov babies, and fill the old nest with screams of joy; with happy children's voices talking and laughing, instead of the sobs of crying, angry ghosts. My witch will have long, curly, brown hair with specks of dried wheat, all the way down to her waist, something to hold on to in fits of passion. She will have doe eyes and tits that fit in my hand. A sodden pussy crying for mercy, one where I can pound without remorse, and I can drink at my heart's content. A peach-shaped bum I can adore, bite, chew, and love on my own. Fuck, I am ready right now. This talk makes my mouth water." He had to take a deep breath; he was working himself over the edge.

"Lucius, my beloved cousin, do you understand me? I will not fight this fight; if I keep at it, I will probably be sent to Azkaban for it. I know these things and today I see the future, my life in prison. You go to your mission, and I go home. Send an owl, stop by on your way to Azkaban. I have been told it is located in the North Pole. Ta, ta, au revoir, auf wiedersehen." He stood up and was walking towards the door. "I am going to pack and will be gone by the time you are back if you are lucky."

"Stop for a second, please take a seat." Lucius pleaded, argued, begged, cried, threatened, even stomped his feet, and finally threw him a proverbial bone. 'Mr. Sneaky' himself looked away, a bit disinterested. He twisted his lips, made a smacking sound with his lips twice, and with his index finger hit his cheek twice. "Too bad you are leaving," he shook his hand derisively once, and then quite loud, he sighed twice.

"You don't fool me, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy. You should have been a road player and even made a fortune." Antonin remarked, followed by an embittered chuckle.

"It is regrettable. It is, to think I just figured out. Never mind, it is too late. I know of a young witch, not quite ripe, but soon, who fits your very description. If I was six, seven, eight, nine, ten years younger," pausing for effect, "and if I weren't in love with Cissy, I would go for her myself. I would also try if the young chit accepted my advances. Hmm… Too bad... she fits, too damn bad, she fits your description to the T, forget it; you are leaving, adieu." He said goodbye waving his hand with studied disinterest.

Lucius sat back, put his leg over the armrest as if he did not have a care for the world. He poured himself some more champagne, picked up a plump black olive and popped it in his mouth, then picked up a little cheese puff, to chew slowly, nothing to chew, looking away to nowhere in particular. He was itching to look back and check on Antonin. He did not know if the arse was still there. If he was going to end up in Azkaban, he wanted good company (damn it), and he did not wish to be the only one pouring money into this venture.

Three minutes later, he heard a body plop in the next chair, a sigh, two sighs, and a glass of champagne were put on a table with melodic peal, "Don't fuck with me Lucius, I know your play-acting, your tactics have hardly changed since I was a child. Now, who is this beauty we are talking about it? If you have lied, or if you are planning to lie, I will not be forgiving. I will tell Cissy about the little Hungarian witch during our last mission, the one with the looks of a nursing cow. Ah, and the horrendous screaming, "More, more, spank me, harder, harder," and let's not forget, "let me bite your beautiful tits." It sounded like some randy foolish wizard was too horny and forgot a silencing charm?" Antonin looked at his nails, projecting extreme boredom. There was a difference here, Antonin wasn't play-acting, and he was fed up with Lucius and his manipulative antics.

Lucius turned towards Antonin in a rage, his eyes blazing, "You would not dare to betray your flesh and blood? She will leave me and take half of my fortune, and for your information, I am not lying. Wait for a second." Lucius knew he better come up with something. He knew Antonin, he was a vindictive Russian, and he was a bad enemy, plus he still believed in honor, really, that was a tad passé. Although Lucius was not afraid of very many people, he did not want to be on the receiving end of Antonin's wrath. Nope, he had witnessed it once, or twice, and his cousin knew some wicked dark magic, some never heard east of Russia.

"Dobby or Mipzy do bring me the Prophet from two weeks ago, the one with Draco's schoolmates, the one with Mr. Potter, and his other two friends," Lucius called.

A house-elf appeared with a pop in the air. He was carrying several Daily Prophets. They all have pictures of the golden trio. One particular, full-color photograph showed one of Miss Hermione Granger's re-published Yuletide Ball. Two others also directed her in action with her deep brown curls flying in the air and her defiant face. Her fine bone facial structure was portrayed in glorious colors, enough to be admired. Her rosy lips and the fire in her eyes made the two wizards long for the same thing. Antonin's face changed as he looked at the photos and a beautiful smile brightened up his face. His half-closed, full of lust, light grey, caressed the photos over and over. Even Lucius had to accept that Antonin was a very handsome wizard, and that he could compete against him any old day. He hated that.

Lucius was not far behind Antonin, in the admiration for the little Mudblood. However, the lusty feelings left him in a second; she was too young. He was not interested, at least not for a long while. He was married and sought immediate gratification; he could not afford long chases; plus, he did not go for children, it was disgusting. Thus a very young, powerful chit like the Mudblood was a long time investment.

He chuckled. "So this is Hermione Granger, the tooted mudblood, what is she? Fifteen, sixteen, I can wait. I would have preferred for her to be around nineteen or twenty, no younger than that. I want babies right away, after the first go around. I love pregnant witches; I could tell you some stories." He paused all dreamy, "Oh, yes, she is one exquisite little witch." Lucius was sticking out his chest, his chin up in the air, a white peacock, and his eyes expressing the feeling of victory.

"And, how do you propose I land this little kitten, the sweet koshechka?" asked Antonin quite hopeful. He was already planning their honeymoon, the décor for their boudoir, which Faberge necklace his little witch will receive as a first gift, her dishabille for the honeymoon, the trousseau made by that French-Russian magical-designer in la Rue de la-, the colours for the children's room…His mind was running wild; he had already gone through the first weeks of shagging to the pitter-patter of little feet. His passionate heart had fallen in love at first sight, and for the first time in his life.

"We will cross that bridge when we get to it. If the need arises, then I will help you 'secure' it by whatever means necessary. What do you say? Besides we are winning, I am sure the Dark Lord will give you her little bum as a reward." They both broke out in joyful peals of laughter, and say goodbye after the early, much too early celebration, as things turned out.

Late November 2000,
Ministry of War, and prison reform -Committee in charge of the 'accelerated re-socialization' of war offenders.

"Ms. Granger, undoubtedly, your programs to improve Azkaban have been a great success. Donations on the neighborhood of ten million galleons have turned the former hell hole into a model for the entire wizarding world, we are now afraid some of the prisoners might want to stay, they actually have more opportunities there than outside." Said the old, stuffy Lord, one of the members of the newly formed committee, and his comment brought the required number of laughs.

"Yes, Miss Granger, or is it already Mrs. Weasley?" Asked solicitous Lucius, knowing the answer, after all he had sent the little hot witch into the idiotic Blood traitor's hotel room, and had paid for the photographers outside. He would be dammed if he were to break more promises to Antonin.

He did not like breaking promises, and Antonin had landed twice in prison, all because of Lucius' advice. Well, the second time, because the stubborn Russian wizard had insisted in watching the curly hair witch's back, every time he had a chance. Over his gallant actions, he had gotten both, he and Lucius under Cruciatus more than once. Moreover, to protect her, and her friends, how exhausting, he had not escaped while he had time. And if he were right, the young witch would ultimately wage the battles needed to get Antonin out Azkaban, and into her bed. A promise was a promise, or was it?

About their vows, too bad he had made them, Cissy had shown her true colours after he was released from Azkaban. Upon his return, a surprise was the new headquarters of Snake-Face at the Manor. The silly chit was all chummy with the demented maniac. The Dark Lord had the gall to take over the master room and his wife. The slime ball was sleeping with the two sisters. A confirmed fact, which Cissy claimed, it had not been her fault; she said it, "He made me."

Yes sure, made her? In any case, Lucius was already checking his options, Andy was looking mighty fine, and quite the beautiful witch, but she was in mourning.
She was prettier than Cissy, smarter than Bella, and hell of a lot nicer. And as an added bonus she actually had a larger bum and tits that the two sisters combined. Her puritan Muggle living was reflected in her appearance. He would go and check on her today, brotherly love. Too bad, she was not Ms. Granger. He could not get Ms. Granger out of his mind, and the fact that Antonin wanted her, increased her allure ten fold.

It was such a sacrifice, he wanted Granger for himself, and Draco wanted the same, so it was better not to fight for a witch with his son. He just had to be careful and hide his involvement from Draco. The young wizard would not soon forget this infraction.

Draco had been begging him for years to allow him to stake a claim on the witch; as a matter of fact since the first day on Hogwarts. He had kept the owl from that day, you could see the Malfoy spirit across the scroll,

"Father, I met the strangest of witches. I am wondering if the Pureblood thing is that important, and if you would allow me to make her acquaintance. Father, consider the impact; it might be a hard blow for Harry Potter who has refused my friendship. Imagine, he is best friends with her, your loving son, Draco Lucius Malfoy."

Clever little bugger, learning the fine art of manipulation, but the answer was no then, and no now, for different reasons each time. Besides, if she were not for Antonin, she was for Lucius. Sorry Draco, my loving son. Father comes first; he is the one with the fat purse, your loving father ...Thought Lucius.

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