A daughter. He had a daughter. That thought had been spinning around in his brain for weeks, but he hadn't been able to properly process it. Every time he saw her face splashed across the front page of the Daily Prophet it would take him a moment to remember that she was his daughter. He had stared at every picture for hours, but there was nothing of him in her face or her mannerisms. His daughter looked as though she were Bellatrix or Andromeda's daughter, not his.

The latest edition had captured her leaving a restaurant with Potter. Cold fury flashed in her eyes for the briefest moment before a tight, brittle smile stretched her lips in a parody of happiness. A shiver went down his spine at that look. It was pure Black, and it spelled the downfall of whichever reporter and photographer had accosted her. He glanced curiously at the bylines, making a note of the names for later.

The only thing that had kept Lucius together was his son. He needed to keep it together for Draco's sake. Things were difficult for Lucius, but he couldn't imagine what Draco must be going through. He had never outright said, but Lucius had ample suspicion that his son had actively worked to make his sister's time at school unpleasant.

Guilt, an unpleasant emotion at the best of times, crawled through Lucius as he recalled the unfortunate run-in with his daughter's foster parents at Flourish & Blott's just before Draco's second year. Well… their second year, he supposed.

What must the girl think of him? What must Draco think of him? With a dawning sense of horror, Lucius realized that he hadn't yet spoken to Draco about… all of this. Normally, that would have been something that he and Narcissa would have done together. Given the fact that he and Narcissa weren't really speaking to one another, that hadn't been possible.

Taking a deep breath, Lucius stood up. He needed to speak to his son. He needed to find a way through all of this. The walk to Draco's rooms seemed unnaturally quiet. The Manor itself seemed so still, lately. He had moved his things to his father's old rooms in the East wing. If he took meals in his rooms, he could go days without seeing anyone. He had done that in the beginning, but he worried about how that might affect Draco, and he had resumed taking meals in the dining room with his family.

"Draco?" He knocked on the door and then opened it, entering his son's suite.

A robe tossed carelessly over the back of a chair was the only thing that greeted Lucius. He frowned and turned about in a circle.

"Draco?" He tried again.

A quick glance in his son's bedroom revealed a neatly made bed and a pile of Quidditch gear in one corner. The bathroom was completely empty. He headed back towards Draco's sitting room with a small frown on his face.

It wasn't as though Draco couldn't leave the Manor. He wasn't under house arrest, but for the past few weeks Draco had stuck close to home. The few times he had left the house, he had spoken to Lucius—not quite asking permission, but letting his father know where he was.

"Draco, darling," Narcissa called out as she opened the door to Draco's suite. She froze in the doorway as soon as she saw him, her face becoming a cool, impenetrable mask. "Lucius."

"Narcissa," he replied evenly.

They stared at one another silently for several minutes. Lucius couldn't be sure, but this might be the longest that they had been in the same room together for weeks.

Despite her best efforts, the cracks in her façade were beginning to show. The lines around her mouth were more prominent than they normally were and she seemed worn thin. Lucius' heart ached in his chest. He had been married to this witch for twenty-five years. She had been his comfort and his home for all that time, and now… now it felt as though she were a stranger.

A dull flush rose in Narcissa's cheeks as she averted her eyes. Her robes swirled around her legs as she turned to leave the room. Frustration flooded him, and for the first time Lucius lost control of his temper.

"Don't you think that you owe me an explanation," Lucius demanded his hands fisted at his sides.

"Your father was a loyal Death Eater," Narcissa replied flatly. She took a step into the room and Lucius fought the urge to take a step back. "You took the Mark willingly. You were panting for the honour of it."

"You knew all of that when you married me," Lucius protested.

"I knew that you were charming and sweet and read me poetry," Narcissa countered with a snarl. "I knew that you were a gentleman from a good family. I knew that you and I would suit one another very well. That's what I knew, Lucius. I was seventeen."

"As though your family weren't in the thick of it," Lucius retorted. "Bellatrix begged to take the Mark. Regulus —,"

"Don't!" Narcissa's voice rose and she glared at him. "He came to me, before he was murdered. Did you know? He told me everything. All of you were oblivious fools that condemned our world to ruin. Voldemort was determined to destroy all of us. I was not going to let that happen. Not to my child."

"What are you talking about?" Confusion twisted through Lucius. What did Narcissa mean?

"Horcruxes," Narcissa hissed at him. "Did you think that I didn't know what that nasty little diary was, Lucius?"

Horror filled Lucius. "What?"

"The diary. The one your father insisted you guard as though it were the family grimoire. The one that somehow made its way into the Weasley girl's things," Narcissa reminded him coldly.

"I know about the diary, Cissa," Lucius snapped in frustration. "No, you said Horcruxes. Plural. As in, more than one."

"Oh, well spotted, Lucius," Narcissa huffed at him.

"Damn it, woman!" Lucius bellowed.

"Father… Mother." Draco stood in the doorway of his suite frowning at the both of them.

Immediately, Lucius could see that Draco was upset. His skin was a chalky-grey and there were dark circles under his eyes. Draco's eyes were suspiciously red, and his clothes looked as though he'd slept in them.

"Draco," Narcissa murmured, her hands fluttering as though she wanted to go to their son and take him in her arms.

"What are you doing in my rooms?" Draco asked wearily.

"I was looking for you," Lucius stated and then glanced at Narcissa to see her press her lips together and her hands fall to her sides.

"I was looking for you as well," Narcissa sighed.

"Why?" Confusion flickered over Draco's features.

"This must have come as a shock to you," Lucius began stiffly. "I apologize that I have not spoken to you previously."

"Did you know?" Draco's voice rose and he was staring at Lucius in surprise.

Lucius blinked. "No, of course not!" He glanced at Narcissa, who was watching them both with a neutral expression. "This was a shock to me as well."

"How could you?" Draco's voice cracked and he had turned to stare at Narcissa. "How could you leave her like that? With Muggles? Completely unprotected?"

"I did what I had to do," Narcissa said fiercely. Her eyes had hardened and she lifted her chin defiantly. "I would have done the same with you, if I had been given the opportunity. I would do anything to protect my children."

"She was petrified!" Draco bellowed. He gestured toward the rest of the Manor. "She was tortured here, in her own home! Because no one knew who she was!"

"You were tortured here, in your own home and everyone knew exactly who you were," Narcissa whispered. A tear slid down her cheek. "I failed you, my dragon."

"No," Draco protested. "Mother, no."

"I should leave," Narcissa announced. She spun on her heel and hurried from Draco's room.

He turned to face Lucius. "Father, please."

"What do you want me to do, Draco?" Lucius asked hoarsely.

"I don't know," Draco sighed. He rubbed a hand over his face. "I just don't know anymore, Father."

"I should go," Lucius decided. He paused and frowned at the picture his son made. "You're tired. You should rest. I'll sent Lolly up with some soup later."

"Thank you, that sounds lovely," Draco murmured.

Hesitantly, Lucius raised his hand and patted Draco's shoulder. He let his fingers squeeze gently and then he let go, letting his hand fall to his side before walking out of Draco's room. He pulled the door closed behind him and leaned against the wall for a moment to regain his composure.

Once Lucius caught his breath, he walked down the hall, heading toward the wing that he'd claimed as his own of late. It was in a more remote section of the Manor, removed from the family suites, but he had felt as though he needed the distance to work through his emotions. There was no way for him to be calm, cool, and collected about any of this.

The suite that Lucius had chosen was done in soft blues. He slumped into a chair and let his head fall back against the over-stuffed upholstery. The adrenaline of confronting Narcissa drained out of him, leaving him exhausted and a little raw. His eyelids slid shut and he sighed heavily.

"Father?" Draco's voice drifted to him.

"Hmm." Lucius grumbled and shifted in his chair.

"Father?"

This time, the voice was a little more insistent and there was a light touch on Lucius' arm. He started violently and sat up, blinking blearily up at Draco.

"What?" Lucius asked and winced at the rough, raspiness of his voice.

"Did you fall asleep in your sitting room?" Draco asked incredulously.

"What time is it?" Lucius asked, ignoring Draco's question.

"It's 10 o'clock in the morning." Draco announced in a faintly scandalized tone that Lucius found he did not care for at all.

Bloody hell. Lucius had slept through the entire day and night. He rubbed a hand over his face, his fingers brushing over the day-old growth of facial hair. Then he paused and took his hands away from his face. Draco was here, in Lucius' new suite.

"Are you well, Draco?" Lucius asked worriedly. "Has something happened?" He stood as something occurred to him. "There isn't another article in the Prophet, is there?"

"Father, no," Draco sighed. He sat in a chair next to the one that Lucius had slept in. "Can we talk about this?"

"About… what?" Lucius asked cautiously. Draco frowned at him.

"I want to talk about my sister." Draco paused and rubbed at his temples. "Hermione. I want to talk about Hermione."

"I didn't even know she existed," Lucius stated flatly.

"How could you not know?" Draco asked with a confused expression. "Surely you knew that Mother…" he stumbled and paused, flushing and averting his eyes.

"Your mother was enceinte on multiple occasions," Lucius explained quietly. He gave Draco a strained, sad smile. "The Healers did all sorts of tests, but most of it boiled down to me. There's a rare condition in the Malfoy line. It might be the result of a curse—it's difficult to say at this point. It meant that most of our attempts at having a child were not… successful."

"So you assumed that it was another miscarriage," Draco murmured.

Another miscarriage. So much pain wrapped up in so few words. Every time had hurt just as much as the first. Every time the Healers had broken the news to them as gently as possible. Every time, Narcissa had sobbed until the Healers had sedated her. Every time, Lucius had tried to focus on work, and pushed down the grief that had threatened to swamp him.

"It had happened more than once before," Lucius agreed.

"What do we do now?" Draco asked. He turned to stare at Lucius with familiar silver-grey eyes. "We can't just… she's family. She's a Malfoy."

"I have set up a trust account for her at Gringotts," Lucius replied stiffly. "The goblins are under strict instructions to allow her the use of the vault's contents regardless of which name she uses."

For a long moment Draco just stared at him, blinking slowly.

"You set up a trust account for her at Gringotts," Draco repeated.

"Yes, of course," Lucius huffed. "I know my duty to the girl, Draco."

"Father, does she know that you've set up a trust vault for her?" Draco asked with a peculiar expression on his face.

"She will. I have instructed our lawyers to send her paperwork about her trust account, her dowry, and her inheritance from my mother," Lucius recited.

"What inheritance?" Draco asked in confusion.

"Mother set a few things for my first-born daughter," Lucius explained. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "It's a few pieces of jewelry that have been passed down on her side of the family from mother to daughter or mother to granddaughter, a vault at Gringotts, and a chateau in France."

"Father… Gra—I mean, Hermione isn't the sort of witch that will take that well," Draco warned him.

"Don't be silly, Draco," Lucius scoffed. "What witch doesn't want vaults in her name, priceless heirloom jewels, and a chateau in France?"

"My sister," Draco informed him drily. He paused and grimaced. "There's really no hope for it, Father. You're going to have to go and see her. Maybe if you go see her in person, we can try and fix this."

"Fix what?" Lucius protested. "I'm doing everything that I should be doing as her paterfamilias!"

"Please, please tell me that you haven't signed a contract on her behalf," Draco begged.

"Don't be ridiculous, Draco," Lucius scoffed dismissively. He frowned and shook his head. "I've received several, of course, but I've sent everyone polite refusals."

"Bloody hell, Father," Draco groaned and put his head in his hands.