The Board of Governors for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry met for an extended session in one of London's more expensive muggle hotels. The full board attended for the first time since the Chamber of Secrets incident years before. Included among the members were four newly elected governors; Lucius Malfoy despised all of the new candidates, but not equally. The two he loathed most, unfortunately, he could neither threaten nor bribe.
The chairman called the meeting to order. He was a gnarled old man, mostly senile and firmly convinced that Malfoy knew how to run the school best. He turned the meeting over to the blonde man immediately.
"As you all know, the assault and subsequent casualties represent a grievous breach of the trust we are given by each parent. I feel it is incumbent upon us…" Malfoy droned on for ten minutes. His prepared remarks argued strongly for closing the school, but the speaker knew they were merely pro forma. He dominated this board, despite the new additions. Hogwarts was certain to be closed, and Albus Dumbledore removed from the playing field. Just as his master demanded. When Malfoy finished speaking, he opened the floor. Two of the new arrivals began a vicious debate that lasted several wasted hours.
Across the room, one of the new men marveled at Malfoy's arrogance. He watched the debate impassively, knowing that it would not end how the Death Eater desired. He had been placed on the Board, along with his wife, despite the fact that his son had never attended Hogwarts. Both numbered among the most talented and deadly wizards to graduate from the academy, and either could have bested Malfoy without straining. They needed him if they were to get to Voldemort, however, so they forced themselves to be patient. After two hours of debate, the man tired of the game. He looked at his wife; her tiny, beautiful features told the story. She was tired too. He raised an eyebrow. She nodded, her gray hair bobbing around her shoulders. He could still see the cute teenager she had been when they met.
"Lucius," he said pleasantly, "if I might have a word in private?"
"Certainly, Robert," Malfoy said slowly. "Let's take ten minutes, shall we?" The two men walked into an adjoining room. Malfoy offered his arrogant sneer. "What is it now, old man?"
The other man remained impassive, refusing to rise to the bait. He had no way of knowing that his son habitually wore an identical expression.
"I just wished to inform you that you do not control this board any longer. I do."
"Is that so?"
"You can call for a vote and we can find out." Malfoy's stomach suddenly rolled over. The man in front of him was one of the few people on the planet he truly feared. He had never, in the many years Malfoy had known him, made an idle threat. Suddenly, he understood that the Board had someone who could protect its members from harm, and further, who understood the tactics Malfoy often employed. He felt naked and exposed. All of his planning might have come undone in thirty seconds. "Now, shall we proceed that way, or would you prefer not to lose face?"
"You have no business talking to me in that manner."
"Really?"
Malfoy's stomach flipped again. He felt like he often did in the presence of his master.
"You do not dictate my actions!"
"Correct. How would you like to act?" The silence stretched out between them.
"What do you propose?" Malfoy asked finally, knowing his master would be greatly displeased. To do anything else, though, might reveal him as a Death Eater rather than an arrogant, annoying power monger. That would bring worse displeasure.
"Send me, with my wife, on a fact finding mission. Say you will call another session to debate our recommendations. We will handle the rest." The other man knew it left Malfoy believing that his secrets were safe.
"And the ultimate outcome?"
"Hogwarts remains open and Dumbledore stays in place." Desperately, Malfoy's mind sought a way out. To no avail.
"Very well."
The rest of the day did nothing to cheer Malfoy's spirits. Along with his son and wife, he had to waste an entire afternoon attending the funeral of Gregory Goyle, an idiot and a wastrel if ever there was one. He could see his son fighting back tears as the funeral service commenced. The little fool would pay for showing that kind of weakness in public. How could he not understand that the path to power made no allowances for such things?
Draco had never felt as small as he did in front of Goyle's grave. After the incident with Longbottom (and who knew what really had happened there), he had been berated and abandoned by most of Slytherin house. He became simple fodder for jokes and snickering by people like that vapid idiot Pansy Parkinson. Crabbe and Goyle, not understanding the fuss, had simply stuck by him. They were the only ones. Say what you might about their lowly intelligence, but they had been true friends.
And both of them were dead. Victims of that bitch.
He knew that she wasn't the only one responsible. Voldemort had ordered the series of attacks, including the special one at Hogwarts. Privy to the inside information of his household, he knew that his father had helped in the planning. In essence, his father had helped kill his only remaining friends. Anger welled up inside the younger Malfoy.
Draco had bandages wrapped tightly around his arm and leg that forced him to hobble. His father had beaten him twice, once for attacking Voldemort's chosen avatar, and again for allowing himself to be injured. As his fury brought the tears out, he knew they would engender another beating in the endless series. He wondered how many more it would take before he outright attacked his father.
"Draco, cease that ridiculous crying," Lucius Malfoy ordered in a harsh whisper. "When I get you home…"
"What?" Draco shouted, causing heads to turn. The threat, brought at such a vulnerable point, finally snapped him. "You'll kill my best friends? Beat the shit out of me? Too late for those to be original. You arrogant asshole! I've taken enough of your shit…"
Lucius cut him off with a hard right hand to the jaw. Draco went sprawling. Scrambling to his feet, the younger Malfoy drew his wand on his father. The crowd gasped as Lucius pulled his own. Draco's jaw burned, but he steeled himself to the task. Off to the right, his mother began uttering an odd keening sound.
"You've had this coming, boy. I'm tired of your weakness and your insolence." As he lifted his wand, two elderly men stepped in front of Draco.
"Lucius, I believe it would be best if you did not do that," Albus Dumbledore said. "I am quite sure that a funeral for one of my students is not the place to be assaulting another." The words were polite, but Dumbledore had his own wand out. The elder Malfoy froze.
"This is very upsetting, Lucius," Sir Robert Grey said. "I would hope that you would have more respect for the deceased than this. The board will be most disturbed. Of course, I will have to report it at the same time as I present the results of my fact finding mission."
Malfoy froze. What the hell did he think he was doing? The little imbecile had made him angry enough to forget himself, and that endangered the larger plan. He couldn't very well hurt his own son in front of these moronic do-gooders.
"Gentlemen," he said, regaining his composure, "you're absolutely correct. It has, you understand, been a very trying time. I never intended to hurt the boy, I assure you." He walked slowly towards his son, sliding his wand back into his robe. Dumbledore and Grey parted warily, each ready to attack Lucius at the slightest provocation. The blonde man leaned down to speak to his son in fatherly tone.
"Draco, I'm terribly sorry. I overreacted. Can you forgive me?" His eyes burned. Draco knew the consequences of anything other than an affirmative answer. His stomach churned with fear.
"Of course, father, I understand. I did the same. I would never pull my wand on you otherwise. Please forgive me as well." The icy Malfoy tone hid the fear in the boy's voice, but Robert Grey saw the fear and loathing in his eyes.