Present Day

"Father." Scorpius came up beside Draco. "How much longer are we staying?"

Draco turned to look at his son. The boy had just turned fifteen. Draco had not wanted to bring him tonight, but his wife had insisted upon it. Draco tried to convince her their son was too young for such an event. She quite needlessly reminded Draco that he'd barely been older than Scorpius was now when he began his service to their Lord.

At least she had agreed, that at only thirteen and eleven, their daughters Asterope and Carina should stay home with their governess.

When considering a list of possible traitors in their midst, Astoria Malfoy, née Greengrass, would not be on it. Nor would their son Scorpius.

Lucius had lined up the match between him and the younger Greengrass sister immediately following Pansy's death. Draco's father thought it would be best to get his son over the tragedy of losing his former intended, by replacing her as soon as possible. Astoria was available due to a...mistake made by her elder sister. Her family was paying their societal dues. Frankly, in the end, they probably thought they had won the lottery.

Draco and Pansy should have already been married by the time he'd had to kill her. She could not understand why he kept holding off. A Malfoy family heirloom ring adorned her left hand, and he fucked her regularly. Thank the gods he had been too busy thinking of cinnamon-colored eyes and wild curls rather than Pansy during the final two years, otherwise things would have been even more complicated. Although, at the time he had thought the opposite, feeling guilty over his duplicity against the only ally he thought he had on his side of things.

As it was, Lucius made sure the next contract entered upon had a stipulation regarding the length of time allowed before their vows. The courtship had been short, and Astoria fell pregnant soon after they wed.

Each time he took her, from their first time on, Draco hid away behind the shields of his mind, imagining someone quite different from the woman bearing his last name.

During the first few months of her pregnancy, Draco held onto the hope that Astoria might prove to be malleable to his way of seeing the world. She was younger than him, and her parents had managed to shelter her from much of the true nature of the Death Eaters.

Now, as a Malfoy, she no longer had the luxury of ignoring reality. Lord Voldemort had vacated Malfoy Manor, but he and many of his senior officials still met there frequently with both Lucius and Draco. After the second of these visits, Draco discovered Astoria hiding in her closet, clutching both hands protectively over her still-flat stomach, long after most of the revelers had Apparated or Floo'ed home. He had ventured to ask her if perhaps she wanted to have access to the Malfoy villa in the Loire Valley.

She had misinterpreted his offer. Instead of accepting it as an escape, she saw it as a challenge. The poised witch who greeted their "guests" scant weeks later was not the same Astoria. Draco had pulled her aside and accused her of taking a potion to build up her nerves. She, in turn, had straightened her back and given him a scathing look before deigning to answer, "I would never do anything to harm our child. I am doing my duty both as a Malfoy, and as a loyal subject to our Lord."

During the final trimester of her pregnancy, she began to show signs of distress once again. Astoria's health spiraled down quickly. Where she had once stood in the receiving room, welcoming in guests as they arrived, now she sat secluded in the conservatory during meetings, breathing in the magically purified, warm humid air their healer said she needed. Draco assigned two house elves to care for her day and night.

The diagnosis was dire - a family curse not necessarily forgotten, but willfully ignored after two hundreds years without incident. Ironically, this led to the final nail in the coffin of Draco's dead hope for a wife who could work with him. Lord Voldemort became his wife's savior when he decided to take her on as a project and successfully lifted her family's curse.

In return, he had declared a life debt which could be fulfilled with a promise from her to bear more than one child. Over time, Astoria and Draco Malfoy were able to present three perfect little purebloods to their master. Draco did it against his will - pieces of him quietly dying on the inside each time. Meanwhile, Astoria lamented her inability to have more than three children, unaware that Draco had secretly managed to find a Muggle doctor to perform a vasectomy on him. Though Healers had tested the both of them for fertility issues, magic had overlooked the little snips.

Between forcing herself to attend inner-circle planning sessions, having her life saved, and seeing the envy with which most other witches regarded her, Astoria had become a true believer along the way.

When his wife became his unknowing enemy, Draco's only hope of survival lay in letting her raise their children as if he shared her beliefs.

Now, Draco stood, contemplating Scorpius and wondering what advantage the evil little brat could possibly see in leaving early.

"This place is boring and quite dingy," the young wizard whinged. "Why does it matter that we come each year to the exact room where Harry Potter and a bunch of Mudblood-loving traitors were executed? I much prefer the events at the palaces in London."

Draco looked around. It was true his old school had never been repaired. In the immediate aftermath of that fateful battle, the school had been stripped bare. Any talk over the years of reopening it was quickly shot down. Their lord preferred to appropriate grand Muggle buildings in London. Only the Great Hall stood in full restoration, minus the house banners.

His son was merely bored. Of course he was.

"Well, Scorpius, seeing as you have never come here for an anniversary event before, I don't know where you get off with saying we," Draco drawled. "If you would prefer to be left behind again with your little sisters and your governess come next year, by all means, let me know now. I seem to remember you begging to come tonight. Perhaps I was mistaken?"

"Great, so we came. There's no one here my age. Why did mother have to insist I come? Maybe if there was a bit of fun going on…"

Draco knew exactly what Scorpius meant by fun. Astoria had already let him witness some of the tamer revel events. 'Tamer' being a comparative term.

"Are you daft? Muggles can't see Hogwarts. Even Lord Voldemort can't break that age-old enchantment. No point in trying to bring them here for any sort of sport."

"Hmmph," Scorpius snorted. "Well, what about some captured Mudbloods? Haven't we found any lately? They could have been brought along for entertainment."

Draco pulled his son close, holding his arm tight, and spoke directly into his ear. "If you know what is good for you, you'll shut your trap, stupid boy. This event is important to our Lord and if he for one moment thinks you are deriding it, I guarantee his next visit to our house will include some unfortunate consequences for you."

Scorpius went to move away, but Draco pulled him back in to hiss one more thing.

"And if I ever see you putting your cock anywhere near an impure witch, whether it's during a revel or not, there'll be hell to pay."

Scorpius came away pale, but quickly tried to hide the proof of the altercation. Looking around to see who might have noticed, he cast a quick spell on the wrinkles Draco's crushing grip had made on his sleeve. He narrowed his eyes at his father, but did not dare to talk back.

"Do you understand me?" Draco pressed.

"Perfectly," Scorpius answered. Draco slid inside his son's mind. He saw a mixture of fear and anger, but nothing that spoke of betrayal. He was in and out so quickly after seeing what he needed, Scorpius never knew he was there.

Draco was unsure how much longer he would be able to maintain a hold on his son's baser desires. Voldemort was breeding a multitude of addictions in the younger generation.

Casting dark spells led to a magical high - a rush of power and endorphins that potions simply could not match. However, that feeling was amazingly short-lived. It was gone mere minutes after a wizard finished casting. Draco understood the allure all too well after nearly twenty-five years of using both Unforgivables and lesser "grey" spells. A strong mind full of walls and cubbies in which one could hide pieces of himself, only to be taken out in privacy, could protect a wizard from the worst of it. Few had the skill, strength, and fortitude to do that.

When that high was unavailable, there were plenty who peddled potions to mimic the euphoria. Roger Davies was one such wizard. He had a thriving business right in the middle of Diagon Alley, sanctioned by the government for its medicinal uses. What a load of shite. But, doped up masses were easier to control, so long as you didn't cut off their supply.

And sex? Well, there was more than enough of that to go around. Half-bloods were able to charge for their services. Those with good pedigrees were even able to bring in a decent income acting as surrogates for purebloods looking to ensure they followed the Ministry's decree to increase magical blood. As long as you could prove four generations of magic before you, the fifth generation became pure. Wombs became a commodity to be bought.

At revels, Mudbloods had always used to be supplied for the enjoyment of the participants. However, it had been five years since the last adult Muggleborn had been caught. Now it was only Muggles passed around for the night, before they were killed.

Draco preferred not to dwell on the fate of the Muggleborn children found across Europe each year once their first displays of accidental magic registered with The Ministry.

The Inner Circle already knew that the "war" was essentially won. But, how to continue to spur the masses? Only with a threat looming over their head, even if it meant exaggerations or outright fabrications. Therefore, pictures of Mudbloods were still splashed across fliers hanging on lampposts and in shop windows. A list of the captured, printed in the newspaper, still listed blood status. Conspicuously missing from the list of captured Mudbloods was their age.

As long as you gave them someone to play with, revelers didn't ask too many questions, and that trickled down to the general public.

Sheep. Draco was surrounded by sheep.

"Why don't you find your mother and ask her to dance? She'd enjoy that," Draco offered as an out to his son. He had to consider the boy was not entirely an idiot when he took it with a curt nod.

Watching his son walk away, he allowed himself a small sigh.

"How is it," a voice came from beside Draco, someone appearing there while he had been distracted, "that we managed to have two of the biggest wankers for offspring?"