"Grace of the Devil"
Part Four:
At the end of July, Draco recieved his letter from school. He was Head Boy, and Lucius couldn't be any prouder...especially since his son had managed to beat the Potter boy. But Lucius had no time to give Draco attention. Grace was now taking up most of his time.
When Draco recieved the news, Lucius was in his study, sitting in a chair as he held Grace in his arms. She was sucking milk from a bottle, and Lucius was staring down into the child's gorgeous blue eyes. He felt he would never get enough of the girl's eyes. She was so pretty, his pretty little girl.
"Father?" Lucius looked up to see his son standing in the doorway, letter in hand. Lucius was surprised to see him: his son hadn't spoken to him most of that summer, and Lucius was determined not to mess this up.
"Draco, come in," he said casually, holding back the excitement at seeing his son again. "Please, sit down."
"I just wanted to show you..." Draco came in and held the Head Boy badge up for Lucius to see. He smiled at his son.
"Very good, Draco."
"Thank you, Father," Draco said nervously. He looked down at the floor. "I'll go write to Mum now..."
"Congratulations, son."
Draco nodded in aknowledgement and left the room quickly. Lucius felt his heart sink in disapointment. The boy was afraid of him, had always been. Have I done anything to make my own son fear me? he asked himself. Perhaps I've been cold and strict with him over the years, but never downright mean and abusive, not at all. Lucius wondered why he was suddenly noticing all this now...
Then he looked down at the gift in his arms again.
I can't mess up with Gracie, he told himself as he tickled the girl's chin. She will never want, and will always know comfort and love. I don't care what I have to do. She'll never do without.
As the last weeks of Draco's summer holiday passed, Lucius grew more nervous at his son's leaving. It would be his last year at school, then he'd be moving out of the house. That was the Malfoy tradition: the boy moves out of the house until he marries, then takes over. But Lucius didn't WANT Draco to move out. He wanted him to stay, he wanted his son and his daughter and his WIFE to all get together and be a family. But Lucius knew that it was too much to ask for: Draco was growing up, and eager to get away. And Narcissa was so damn FLIGHTY. It's just me and Gracie, Lucius thought. It could be worse. I could be alone.
Narcissa returned home a week before Draco was set to leave for school, looking just as tan from her holiday as the night Grace was concieved, a year ago. Narcissa gave no notice to her little daugther or her husband, and paid all her attention to her son. "Oh, my little boy is growing up so fast!" she'd constantly declare, hugging the boy around the neck. It was at times like these that Lucius would pick Grace up and leave the room.
After Draco went off to school, Narcissa left for another holiday: this time, to Liverpool to see her cousins. "They want me to bring the baby, but-"
"Over my dead body," Lucius had said in a cold, hoarse voice, surprising her wife.
She then scowled. "Of course I don't want to take the little brat. I told them that she was too young to travel."
Little brat. That was what Narcissa referred to her beautiful little daughter as. The night after his wife left, Lucius was rocking the baby in the nursery. He looked down at the peacefully sleeping child, and thought, how could anyone call her a "little brat"? She's perfect.
*********************************************************************
One September morning, Lucius felt his upper arm begin to ache. Oh, no, he thought. It can't be...but when he lifted his robes, Lucius confirmed his dreaded suspicions: his Dark Mark was in full view. Lord Voldemort was calling.
But what could he do? He couldn't leave the baby by herself, not with Narcissa still gone on holiday. And Lucius refused to trust any of the house elves to take care of his darling baby. He didn't particularly want to take her, but...what other choice did he have? So, Lucius dressed the baby in her finest little dress and Apparated them to the Death Eater headquarters...Tom Riddle's old house.
To Lucius's surprise, the sitting room where the Death Eaters normally met was strangly empty. Only one person sat there: Voldemort's little rat-man slave, Pettigrew. The short, stout man stood up to greet his fellow Death Eater. "Hello, Malfoy," he said in casual coldness. Ever since the night of the Dark Lord's resurrection, Pettigrew had feared no one...but the Dark Lord himself, of course. And, Lucius suspected, the Potter boy.
Lucius nodded his head in greeting. "Good morning, Pettigrew. Where are the others?"
Pettigrew ignored the question: instead, he set his eyes upon the baby. "What is that?" he asked, in a tone that irritated Lucius. He pressed the child protectivly to his chest.
"My daughter," he said coldly. He hoped that Pettigrew wouldn't ask any more questions, but he was spared as the Dark Lord, Voldemort himself, came into the room. Lucius promptly fell to his knees, as did Pettigrew. Voldemort stood above Lucius.
"Rise, Malfoy. You are faithful to come so quickly, though no less is expected of you." Lucius rose to his feet, and Voldemort caught sight of Grace. "What is that?" he asked, in tone similar to Pettigrew's. But Lucius couldn't afford to act coldly to his master.
"It is my daughter, master. My wife gave birth to her three months ago, and-"
"Silence," Voldemort interuppted coldly. "I didn't ask for the girl's life story." He stepped too close to the baby, and used one of his long, spidery fingers to stroke the child's face. It was a caress similar to Lucius's own loving touches, but Grace knew the difference. The baby whimpered, Lucius could've sworn that he saw a fearful look in his daughter's eyes. He had to use his best self control not to pull her out of the Dark Lord's reach.
Voldemort laughed loudly and coldly at the child's reaction. "She doesn't like me," he said, his snake-like face wearing a look of amusement. He examined the girl's face. "She looks nothing like you, Malfoy."
"She resembles her mother's side of the family, the Blacks," Lucius said. Voldemort clucked his snake-like tongue, and Lucius felt a rage burning inside of him. But he fought it back. "What did you call me for, my Lord?"
"Ah, yes," Voldemort said, tearing his eyes from the child. "Wormtail," he said, addressing his rat slave, "take the Malfoy girl into another room."
"But, master-" Lucius began, but stopped when the Dark Lord's evil, red-eyed gaze fell on him.
"Are you defying me, Malfoy?"
"No, master," he muttered helplessly. "Never."
"That's what I thought," Voldemort said triumphantly. "Wormtail, the child..." As Pettigrew grabbed the child from his arms, Lucius leaned over and whispered in the other man's ear: "If one hair is misplaced on her head, then I shall perform the Crucio curse on you until your ass bleeds." Pettigrew gave the other man a sneer, but Lucius could see fear in his eyes. Good, he thought, Grace will be alright."
"Sit down, Malfoy," Voldemort said as soon as Pettigrew was out the door. Voldemort sat in the only chair in the room, a wide armchair. Lucius knelt on the floor at his master's feet. "I'm sure you're wondering why I asked you here today. You and only you."
"Yes, master."
"I have an important mission for you," the Dark Lord said. "I haven't had much use for you in the past year, after your escape from Azkaban. But I believe you're perfectly safe from detection from the Ministry: the Azkaban records have been abandoned since last year, since there are so many breakouts and so many new prisoners, you see."
"Yes, master," Lucius said. He'd read some about this in the "Daily Prophet".
"Then perhaps you are aware that the Ministry has supposedly come up with a new way to guard the prison," Voldemort said slowly, but his hissing voice sounded angrier. "Our Ministry spies have no idea what's going on, and I was hoping I could sneak someone in there to find out."
"Me, my Lord?" Lucius asked, realizing what Voldemort was implying.
"Yes, you," Voldemort said coldly. "Though you were foolishly caught by the Ministry before, I am giving you a second chance, Malfoy. You must sneak into the prison and get the information for me."
Lucius knew that taking the mission of his only option. But what about Grace? he wondered. He'd have to hire someone to take care of her while he was gone, or enlist the help of a trusting house elf...or worse, call Narcissa back home. But Lucius knew that he couldn't refuse this mission, couldn't say that he had to stay home and take care of his baby instead. So, he dutifully kissed the Dark Lord's pale, dangling hand.
"Yes, my Lord," he whispered. "I accept the mission."
"Good," Voldemort said with an evil hiss that sent chills down Lucius's spine.
Part Four:
At the end of July, Draco recieved his letter from school. He was Head Boy, and Lucius couldn't be any prouder...especially since his son had managed to beat the Potter boy. But Lucius had no time to give Draco attention. Grace was now taking up most of his time.
When Draco recieved the news, Lucius was in his study, sitting in a chair as he held Grace in his arms. She was sucking milk from a bottle, and Lucius was staring down into the child's gorgeous blue eyes. He felt he would never get enough of the girl's eyes. She was so pretty, his pretty little girl.
"Father?" Lucius looked up to see his son standing in the doorway, letter in hand. Lucius was surprised to see him: his son hadn't spoken to him most of that summer, and Lucius was determined not to mess this up.
"Draco, come in," he said casually, holding back the excitement at seeing his son again. "Please, sit down."
"I just wanted to show you..." Draco came in and held the Head Boy badge up for Lucius to see. He smiled at his son.
"Very good, Draco."
"Thank you, Father," Draco said nervously. He looked down at the floor. "I'll go write to Mum now..."
"Congratulations, son."
Draco nodded in aknowledgement and left the room quickly. Lucius felt his heart sink in disapointment. The boy was afraid of him, had always been. Have I done anything to make my own son fear me? he asked himself. Perhaps I've been cold and strict with him over the years, but never downright mean and abusive, not at all. Lucius wondered why he was suddenly noticing all this now...
Then he looked down at the gift in his arms again.
I can't mess up with Gracie, he told himself as he tickled the girl's chin. She will never want, and will always know comfort and love. I don't care what I have to do. She'll never do without.
As the last weeks of Draco's summer holiday passed, Lucius grew more nervous at his son's leaving. It would be his last year at school, then he'd be moving out of the house. That was the Malfoy tradition: the boy moves out of the house until he marries, then takes over. But Lucius didn't WANT Draco to move out. He wanted him to stay, he wanted his son and his daughter and his WIFE to all get together and be a family. But Lucius knew that it was too much to ask for: Draco was growing up, and eager to get away. And Narcissa was so damn FLIGHTY. It's just me and Gracie, Lucius thought. It could be worse. I could be alone.
Narcissa returned home a week before Draco was set to leave for school, looking just as tan from her holiday as the night Grace was concieved, a year ago. Narcissa gave no notice to her little daugther or her husband, and paid all her attention to her son. "Oh, my little boy is growing up so fast!" she'd constantly declare, hugging the boy around the neck. It was at times like these that Lucius would pick Grace up and leave the room.
After Draco went off to school, Narcissa left for another holiday: this time, to Liverpool to see her cousins. "They want me to bring the baby, but-"
"Over my dead body," Lucius had said in a cold, hoarse voice, surprising her wife.
She then scowled. "Of course I don't want to take the little brat. I told them that she was too young to travel."
Little brat. That was what Narcissa referred to her beautiful little daughter as. The night after his wife left, Lucius was rocking the baby in the nursery. He looked down at the peacefully sleeping child, and thought, how could anyone call her a "little brat"? She's perfect.
*********************************************************************
One September morning, Lucius felt his upper arm begin to ache. Oh, no, he thought. It can't be...but when he lifted his robes, Lucius confirmed his dreaded suspicions: his Dark Mark was in full view. Lord Voldemort was calling.
But what could he do? He couldn't leave the baby by herself, not with Narcissa still gone on holiday. And Lucius refused to trust any of the house elves to take care of his darling baby. He didn't particularly want to take her, but...what other choice did he have? So, Lucius dressed the baby in her finest little dress and Apparated them to the Death Eater headquarters...Tom Riddle's old house.
To Lucius's surprise, the sitting room where the Death Eaters normally met was strangly empty. Only one person sat there: Voldemort's little rat-man slave, Pettigrew. The short, stout man stood up to greet his fellow Death Eater. "Hello, Malfoy," he said in casual coldness. Ever since the night of the Dark Lord's resurrection, Pettigrew had feared no one...but the Dark Lord himself, of course. And, Lucius suspected, the Potter boy.
Lucius nodded his head in greeting. "Good morning, Pettigrew. Where are the others?"
Pettigrew ignored the question: instead, he set his eyes upon the baby. "What is that?" he asked, in a tone that irritated Lucius. He pressed the child protectivly to his chest.
"My daughter," he said coldly. He hoped that Pettigrew wouldn't ask any more questions, but he was spared as the Dark Lord, Voldemort himself, came into the room. Lucius promptly fell to his knees, as did Pettigrew. Voldemort stood above Lucius.
"Rise, Malfoy. You are faithful to come so quickly, though no less is expected of you." Lucius rose to his feet, and Voldemort caught sight of Grace. "What is that?" he asked, in tone similar to Pettigrew's. But Lucius couldn't afford to act coldly to his master.
"It is my daughter, master. My wife gave birth to her three months ago, and-"
"Silence," Voldemort interuppted coldly. "I didn't ask for the girl's life story." He stepped too close to the baby, and used one of his long, spidery fingers to stroke the child's face. It was a caress similar to Lucius's own loving touches, but Grace knew the difference. The baby whimpered, Lucius could've sworn that he saw a fearful look in his daughter's eyes. He had to use his best self control not to pull her out of the Dark Lord's reach.
Voldemort laughed loudly and coldly at the child's reaction. "She doesn't like me," he said, his snake-like face wearing a look of amusement. He examined the girl's face. "She looks nothing like you, Malfoy."
"She resembles her mother's side of the family, the Blacks," Lucius said. Voldemort clucked his snake-like tongue, and Lucius felt a rage burning inside of him. But he fought it back. "What did you call me for, my Lord?"
"Ah, yes," Voldemort said, tearing his eyes from the child. "Wormtail," he said, addressing his rat slave, "take the Malfoy girl into another room."
"But, master-" Lucius began, but stopped when the Dark Lord's evil, red-eyed gaze fell on him.
"Are you defying me, Malfoy?"
"No, master," he muttered helplessly. "Never."
"That's what I thought," Voldemort said triumphantly. "Wormtail, the child..." As Pettigrew grabbed the child from his arms, Lucius leaned over and whispered in the other man's ear: "If one hair is misplaced on her head, then I shall perform the Crucio curse on you until your ass bleeds." Pettigrew gave the other man a sneer, but Lucius could see fear in his eyes. Good, he thought, Grace will be alright."
"Sit down, Malfoy," Voldemort said as soon as Pettigrew was out the door. Voldemort sat in the only chair in the room, a wide armchair. Lucius knelt on the floor at his master's feet. "I'm sure you're wondering why I asked you here today. You and only you."
"Yes, master."
"I have an important mission for you," the Dark Lord said. "I haven't had much use for you in the past year, after your escape from Azkaban. But I believe you're perfectly safe from detection from the Ministry: the Azkaban records have been abandoned since last year, since there are so many breakouts and so many new prisoners, you see."
"Yes, master," Lucius said. He'd read some about this in the "Daily Prophet".
"Then perhaps you are aware that the Ministry has supposedly come up with a new way to guard the prison," Voldemort said slowly, but his hissing voice sounded angrier. "Our Ministry spies have no idea what's going on, and I was hoping I could sneak someone in there to find out."
"Me, my Lord?" Lucius asked, realizing what Voldemort was implying.
"Yes, you," Voldemort said coldly. "Though you were foolishly caught by the Ministry before, I am giving you a second chance, Malfoy. You must sneak into the prison and get the information for me."
Lucius knew that taking the mission of his only option. But what about Grace? he wondered. He'd have to hire someone to take care of her while he was gone, or enlist the help of a trusting house elf...or worse, call Narcissa back home. But Lucius knew that he couldn't refuse this mission, couldn't say that he had to stay home and take care of his baby instead. So, he dutifully kissed the Dark Lord's pale, dangling hand.
"Yes, my Lord," he whispered. "I accept the mission."
"Good," Voldemort said with an evil hiss that sent chills down Lucius's spine.