A/N: Hello! Been a while, eh? Thanks to everyone who's reviewed since Chapter Two! I've been sorta slacking on this story because I was debating rewriting part of it. But then, I changed my mind. So, here is chapter three for your reading enjoyment! Review if you wish! No flames, please.

Trapped

Chapter Three

By: DangerMouse, The Great Immortal

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Lucius wondered if he would ever be warm again.

The cold, perpetual, dampness seeped through his filthy robes, oozing into the very marrow of his bones. He shook and coughed, cringing in the corner of his cell, locked in a world of near-total darkness. Around him, he could hear the screams of the accused and convicted. Terror descended on him in waves, accompanied by the almost silent swish of the dementor's robes as they passed by his locked door, their hooded gaze occasionally stopping to spare him a glance through the small, barred window.

In his mind, he re-lived the horrors of the past sixteen months - the men, women, and children he helped torture and kill; the cold fire that ran through his body as he was forced time and time again to pledge his loyalty to the Dark Lord; the pain of the Dark Lord's emblem being burned into his flesh, searing him every day, every moment.

There was something he needed to remember - Lucius knew that much was certain. It was some kind of happy thought, right at the tip of his memory, teasing him. It was almost worst torture than living through the past hellish months - the knowledge that something that could help him get through this was just outside his reach. It was a small thing, almost insignificant really. But it was important to him, it was his world. Why couldn't he remember? He let out a low moan in agony as another group of dementors passed his cell. Why? Why, why, why, why, why, why, why?

Voices on the other side of his cell broke his mantra. Lucius looked up through the darkness, trying to hear...

"... out of here, clean him up. He goes before the Board in the morning."

"... rotten Death Eater. ...we just .... leave them all here..."

"...monsters. Deserve... all of 'em."

The door suddenly swung open, filling the cell with light. Lucius cringed against it, his eyes filling with tears at the sudden brightness. Two hands roughly dragged him to his feet and out of his cell, squeezing his upper arms so tightly, he was certain there were going to be bruises. Of course, that was the very least of his worries.

As the Azkaban guards pulled him away from the main part of the prison, the dementor's influence affected him less and less. For the first time in what he knew must be weeks, he felt his mind clearing. The happy memory that steadfastly hung on the edge of his mind slowly slid back into place. A tiny smile broke out on his face.

"Draco... Narcissa..." he murmured softly, only to be yelled at the guards to be quiet and hit hard across the back of his head. Everything went pleasantly black.

* * * * * *

Lucius put a hand to the tender spot on the back of his head, frowning. On the other hand, he supposed if he got out of here with just only a small lump on his head, he would be very lucky. Dropping his hand back down to the armrest of the chair, he sat up as straight as he could, fixing the Ministry Board of Justice with what he hoped was a steely, yet impassive glare.

So far, they had spent the last fifteen minutes shuffling papers. Lucius fought hard not to grit his teeth. He looked at the faces that wouldn't look back at him - people he knew from his work at the Ministry, friends and colleagues. This was difficult for them. It was difficult for everyone. Lucius was at least mildly grateful they had given him a chance to get cleaned up and look presentable, a set of fresh, clean robes covering the sores and bruises on his body from being in Azkaban for two weeks. Gazing quickly over his shoulder, he could see Severus Snape in the audience, watching him with worried eyes. Lucius wondered, not for the first time, if his family was all right. Finally, Barty Crouch cleared his throat and looked up, making eye contact with Lucius for the first time.

"Lucius Malfoy, you have been accused by this Board of crimes against the Wizarding Community by association with the Dark Lord Voldemort," he said, his voice kept carefully even, his eyes like daggers. "How do you plead?"

"Not guilty, by cause of coercion," Lucius replied in kind. He could hear the noisy mutterings of those in attendance of his trail. One voice in particular, that belonging to Alastor Moody, rang out quite clearly. Mr. Crouch banged his gavel on the table, bringing order back to the courtroom.

"I suppose you have some evidence to back up this claim," Crouch said in an almost snide tone of voice. Lucius was aware it was difficult to prove that one was under an Imperious curse or otherwise forced into doing something. Crouch was certain of a conviction - one that would do wonders for his place in the Ministry and most assuredly grant him a promotion. Lucius wasn't going to give him that satisfaction. It was difficult to prove coercion - difficult, but not impossible.

"I am willing to be put under a truth spell or to ingest a truth serum to prove my innocence," he said, with more courage than he felt. Once again, the room broke into chatter. Crouch looked particularly annoyed as he banged the table repeatedly to bring order. He gave a quick, angry hand signal to a bailiff, who disappeared into a back room, coming out moments later with a small vile containing a clear, colorless liquid.

"Veritaserum," the bailiff told Lucius as he approached. "Are you allergic to mugwart?" he asked, since it was one of the main ingredients in the truth serum and many people had an allergy to it.

"No, I am not," Lucius told him. With a nod, the bailiff handed him the serum and watched closely as Lucius tipped back the vile, allowing the somewhat syrupy potion to slide down his throat. Lucius tried not to gag as he handed the now empty vile back to the bailiff. The serum tasted almost sickeningly sweet, yet also unpleasantly sour at the same time. It coated his tongue and stuck to his teeth, managing to seem both gritty and slimy. Gradually, a warm pleasantness started to radiate from his stomach, moving out to the tips of his toes, fingers, and hair, relaxing him from the inside out. He felt himself sitting back in his chair, his vision becoming slightly cloudy and unfocused. Vaguely, he heard Barty Crouch asking him questions.

"What is your full name?" he asked.

"Lucius Fenrin Malfoy," he heard himself say automatically, without even thinking about it. His voice sounded oddly detached, like he was a puppet - his mouth simply flapping about while his subconscious directed what he was going to say. Somebody flashed the lit tip of a wand over both his eyes.

"He's ready," he heard the bailiff say.

"Lucius Malfoy, did you help the Dark Lord Voldemort in his rise to power?"

"Yes," Lucius answered.

"List and describe your crimes for the Board," Crouch told him. Lucius took a deep breath.

The words seemed to tumble out of him. He described, from start to finish, every death, every torturing, the expressions on the faces of his victims, the spells he cast, the dark magical artifacts he had gathered, and the forbidden knowledge he had been forced to learn. The Board listened, their expressions held carefully stony, betraying no emotions. After he finished, the Board was completely silent. Crouch looked up from the notes he had been taking, then fixed Lucius with a stern glare.

"Then, by your own admission of guilt, this Board here by finds you..." Crouch began, but was cut off by another board member.

"Wait, Barty. You didn't ask the right questions," came a female voice. Meredith Jesspet, Lucius thought mildly, recognizing the witch's voice. They had worked together in the Ministry when they were younger.

"Lucius Malfoy, did you willingly help the Dark Lord Voldemort in his rise to power?" she asked, her voice pleasant to listen to.

"No, I did not," Lucius heard himself reply.

"Did you willingly participate in the actions your previously described?"

"No, I did not."

"What were the circumstances of your coercion? Were you under an Imperious curse?"

"No, I was not under the Imperious curse. I was forced to help at the risk of losing my family though violent means."

"Your family?" Meredith asked.

"Yes, about your family," Crouch said, jumping in again. "We have been unable to locate your wife, Narcissa Malfoy. Where is she now?"

"I do not know," Lucius answered truthfully. "I sent my wife away with my son so that she would not be arrested. She was in no way involved with the Dark Lord or the actions of the Death Eaters and was, in fact, unaware of our actions. I was told if I did not help the Death Easters and pledge loyalty to Voldemort that I would lose my wife and child through horrible, torturous means. I did not wish to lose them, so I complied with their demands of me, unwillingly."

"Give us the names and locations of the other Death Eaters," Crouch asked nastily. Lucius opened his mouth to answer, but Meredith's voice interrupted him.

"Lucius, do not answer that question. Mr. Crouch," she said angrily, turning to look at the sour-faced man, "that is not a significant question relating to Mr. Malfoy's involvement with Voldemort and he is not required to answer it as such. I think we've heard enough," she said quickly, looking over at the rest of the Board, who nodded in agreement. With a sharp nod to the bailiff, she said, "Bailiff, please administer the antidote to the truth serum and escort Mr. Malfoy to the holding area. The council will decide on his case and reconvene in one hour."

The sound of a gavel hitting the wooden table made Lucius jump slightly. He was aware of the large bailiff coming over to him, tipping his head back so that another potion could drip down his throat - this one very watery and bitter. Lucius coughed and choked, feeling his eyes tear up as the warm pleasant feeling left him in seconds, replaced with a cold sort of dread. He was pulled, not roughly, to his feet and escorted out of the courtroom. As he left, he caught Severus' eye, who gave him a reassuring nod. Lucius felt himself relax slightly, and allowed himself to be dragged along.

It was almost over.

* * * * * *

It was one of the longest hours of Lucius' life. The 'holding area' was really nothing more than a very large, unremarkable room with long empty walls and a cold stone floor. On the floor were large circles, maybe five feet in diameter, drawn in some kind of white, binding powder. A number of other prisoners were already in the room, standing in the center of their circles, a hazy blue column of light surrounding them. Lucius did not recognize many of these prisoners - most likely the falsely accused. In the days preceding the end of Voldemort, the Ministry had stepped up their efforts, arresting even those with the slightest suspicion of being involved. Occasionally, the Aurors got out of hand - the death toll was enormous.

However, these falsely accused, who looked at the floors or were cradling their heads in their hands, were nothing compared to the men and women Lucius did recognize. They glared at him as he was led past, their eyes' speaking volumes.

Finally, Lucius arrived at his circle, and, after a quick warning by the bailiff not to smudge the powder, stepped lightly inside. Almost immediately, the powder began to glow brightly and smell slightly sulfuric. A column of light surrounded him like it did the others, humming softly. The bailiff, satisfied that Lucius was secure, gave him a quick nod, then turned and left the room, glancing at other prisoners as he did.

Lucius stood quietly, looking down at the floor and rubbing the back of his head, which still ached. The soft sound of someone clearing their throat next to him made him look up, an action he immediately regretted. Against his will, Lucius felt a sigh escape him.

"Hello, Lestrange," he said quietly. "They capture you, too?" Lestrange continued to glare fiercely at Lucius.

"Rat us out to save your own skin, Malfoy?" Lestrange hissed, his eyes narrowing.

"I did nothing but tell the truth," Lucius told him, his voice kept even and clear. He fixed Lestrange with an easy stare, who's lip curled in disdain.

"This isn't over, you know," he told him, angrily. "You may think you're safe, but you never will be. The Dark Lord will rise again and when he does, he will reward the faithful."

"Then perhaps I could better serve him from the outside of a cell at Azkaban," Lucius snapped, quickly losing his temper. Lestrange sniffed, turning away from Lucius to stare at the wall. That suited Lucius just fine.

The hour passed, time measured only by the pounding of his heart. Lucius closed his eyes, imagining the joy on Narcissa's face when she was holding Draco, remembering the way his son would smile up at him and grab his fingers, gurgling happily. He wondered what his first word would be.

Lucius was shaken out of his thoughts by the sound of someone casting the counter-spell that would unlock his magical prison. Opening his eyes, he saw the bailiff, who reached out and grabbed Lucius' upper arm, leading him out of the circle. Taking a deep breath, Lucius followed the bailiff, ready to accept whatever sentence they would give him, repeating the same phrase that had been ringing through his head. It's almost over. It's almost over. It's...

"How is your son these days, anyway, Lucius?" came Lestrange's hissing voice as he was pulled past the older man's cell. Lucius' head snapped towards Lestrange, his steps faltering. The bailiff, not having heard anything, gave Lucius a strong glare over his shoulder and tugged him forward and out the door. The last thing Lucius saw was Lestrange's grinning face as the door to the holding room shut magically behind them.

* * * * * *

Lucius was forced back into the same chair he had been in an hour earlier. He glanced over the members of the Board. Crouch had a particularly foul expression on his face and he rustled the papers in front of him roughly, nearly tearing them in pieces. A spark of hope was lit in his chest. If Crouch was annoyed, that meant good things for him. He turned his eyes to Meredith. She met his gaze for only a few seconds before she dropped her eyes to the table, staring sadly at her folded hands.

The spark died and was replaced with a shard of ice.

After a short eternity, Meredith stood slowly, holding Lucius' gaze. Apparently, Crouch did not wish to give this verdict. Lucius stood as well, with a helping hand from the bailiff that was still holding his upper arm. Meredith cleared her throat twice before speaking.

"Lucius Malfoy, are you ready to accept sentence?" she asked him.

"Yes, Members of the Board," he replied, as was formally required. Meredith took another deep breath.

"Your crimes committed against the Wizarding Community and that of the Muggle Community were many and varied. Based upon your testimony and the evidence gathered by this Board, under normal circumstances The Ministry Board of Justice would have no choice but to find you guilty of all charges."

Lucius felt the ground waver below him and he fought the urge to close his eyes against the nausea rising in his throat. This was not going well at all.

"However," Meredith went on, "these are not normal circumstances. Because of your forced coercion and your unwillingness to help Voldemort, this Board hereby finds you not guilty by coercion." The courtroom exploded in noise, some of it angry, some of it just surprised. Lucius did not allow himself to celebrate. Something still was coming. He could tell by Meredith's guarded expression. She efficiently called the room to order.

"However," she continued, once the room had quieted, "this board does find you guilty of Possession of Dark Artifacts Not Allowed under Article V of the Magical Restrictions Act.. Therefore, it is the decision of the Board that you serve no more than seven months imprisonment in Azkaban after which all charges will be dropped from your record and you will be reinstated in you position in the Ministry. Judgement is passed." With that, she hit the gavel hard upon the table, a tone of finality echoing through the wood.

Lucius blinked three times in shock. Seven months in Azkaban? That was it? He expected a kiss of death, a life-sentence in Azkaban - and he certainly never expected to get his job back! A tiny smile flicked across his lips. Seven months in Azkaban - that was going to be horrible, true, but it wasn't forever.

The guard helped him once again to his feet, navigating him through the now chaotic courtroom. All around, people were shouting out questions, talking amongst themselves, crowding around him. Lucius scanned the crowd quickly as he was yanked towards the door by the guard, finally spotting Severus as the young man was shoving people out of his way to get to him. With much effort, Severus latched on to Lucius' arm.

"Narcissa and Draco are safe," he said softly, so only Lucius' could hear. The older man nodded, giving the potions master a grateful look before they were pulled apart again. Lucius' was content to let the guard deal with the crowds and simply go along for the ride, so to speak, and did not struggle. Just as he was about to go through the door, however, Lucius' had the strongest urge to look back into the courtroom one more time.

Standing very still near the back of the room was a man, eyes blazing with a hatred so pure, it made Lucius' blood run cold. Anger, loathing, and a series of other such emotions flowed off of him in palatable waves right in Lucius' direction. It was Alastor Moody.

The door to the courtroom slammed shut.

* * * * * *

Narcissa Malfoy was sitting on the soft grass in front of the Manor, watching with a sad smile on her face as her eighteen-month old son, toddled along in front of her. His steps were somewhat unsteady but his laughter was clear as a bell as he chased a small yellow butterfly that had the misfortune to cross his path. Draco crouched down, nearly tripping over the hem of his robes as the small insect lighted on a bright orange flower, the name of which was lost on Narcissa. Gardening was her husband's passion, not her own. Luckily, the house elves seemed to be maintaining the flowerbeds well in the Master's absence.

"Look, Mama!" Draco pointed to the butterfly and Narcissa walked towards him, then kneeled down next to her son.

"You must be quiet or it will fly away," she told him softly, pulling the little boy into her lap. They watched together as the delicate creature slowly flapped it's wings, sunning itself in the warm, summer light.

"Why?" Draco whispered, his eyes large and solemn. "I wouldn't hurt it."

"But it doesn't know that. Butterflies are delicate and timid creatures. Unlike little boys." Narcissa said, wiggling her fingers warningly Draco squealed and tried to jump off her lap, but it was too late as Narcissa began to tickle the squirming boy, The pale child laughed and thrashed, never noticing as the butterfly flew off, startled by the sudden increase in activity around it. It landed instead on the shoulder of a man standing still and quiet not three feet away, watching the scene before him next to another.

The tickle attack stopped and Draco sat up, giving him mother a bright smile. He frowned suddenly, looking over her shoulder. "Who's that with Uncle Sevvy?" he asked, pointing to the man. Narcissa spun around and stood up at his question, her body poised to protect her son and herself, her hand automatically going for her ever-present wand at her hip.

Her wand hand fell limp at her side.

"Lucius?" she whispered to the man before her, so much like her husband. His beautiful silver eyes seemed a little more tarnished than when she last saw him, his platinum colored hair a bit longer, and his frame a great deal thinner. Beside him, Severus gave her a reassuring nod. That was all it took for her to throw herself into her husband's arms, which he wrapped firmly around his petite and beautiful wife.

Draco watched with some degree of confusion the tearful reunion occurring before him. His Uncle Sevvy walked next to him, reaching down to pat him lightly on the head.

"Your father is home, Draco," he said. "Your father is finally home."

To be continued...

NEXT CHAPTER: Have things finally calmed down for the Malfoy family now that Voldemort has been defeated and most of the Death Eaters are dead or rotting in jail? Not bloody likely! ^_^ The pressure is back on for the Malfoy's as Draco gets older and the Death Eaters start surfacing once again. Stay tuned! - DM (who wishes she had an 'Uncle Sevvy.').