Lucius Malfoy was a careful man. He didn't believe in rash, uncalculated actions. He planned to live the rest of his life out the same way he had lived it up until the current moment: careful, clever, and calculated. Weighing every odd, making every decision with thought behind it, if possible. Even the decision, twelve years ago, to go to the ministry and tell them that he had been imperiused, had been contemplated for a long, sleepless night, and discussed with his wife.
Lucius had no desire to go to Azkaban like his sister in law and her husband, or the many other friends and family Lucius had watched fall to the Ministry shortly before or after the fall of the Dark Lord. Lucius had a son to raise, and a family name to uphold. And so he had gone to the ministry those twelve years ago and begged for mercy. Begged at the expense of his pride in that one moment, to preserve his pride in the years to come.
So no. Lucius Malfoy did not make rash decisions.
But sitting in the large parlor of Malfoy Manor, turning the small black book over in his hands, Lucius Malfoy contemplated making one.
The cover of the diary was worn and faded, any lettering long since gone, but Lucius didn't need to have anything written on the cover to know enough about the book. On the inside cover was the name "T M Riddle".
Take this book and guard it well, Lucius, a cold voice spoke in Lucius's memory. He shuddered at the memory, the reminder of different times. He recalled what the Dark Lord had told him about the diary. The dark magic it possessed, and the power it would hold should it be returned to Hogwarts.
Lucius twitched the newspaper in his other hand towards him. It announced the raids that the Ministry of Magic was conducting. Raids on houses of families suspected to house dark magical objects. Lucius knew that the Malfoy family, though widely respected in the wizarding world and in the Ministry, especially, still carried dark undertones in the minds of many wizards. Their involvement in the wizarding war was not unforgotten.
He knew that the fear and respect the Malfoy name offered would not last forever. Sooner or later, the Ministry would come calling.
Some of the dark artifacts he could hide. Some he would dispose of. But this diary… The Dark Lord had entrusted it to him specifically. He couldn't very well sell it to that oily man in Knockturn Alley.
Lucius remembered what the Dark Lord had said the book would do. Perhaps Lucius could use this to knock out two birds with one stone. Dispose of the book and simultaneously cleanse Hogwarts of the filth that was beginning to clog the halls, if Draco was to be believed.
Yes, Lucius knew what he was to do with the book.
Narcissa Malfoy was careful too, like her husband, but in a different way. Instead of weighing the risks of actions in order to decide what would best benefit her, she weighed the risks of actions in regards to how they would impact her family. She was a generally quiet woman after years of practice. Growing up in a strict family had taught her many things, but above all taught her how the world viewed her, and how that could be utilized.
No one expected that Narcissa would ever have differing viewpoints from her family; when Lucius explained his plan to her, she nodded quietly. Afterwards, though, she went into their room and closed the door behind her.
She thought. Her father, Cygnus Black, had passed away a few days ago. Now both of her parents were dead. It made her think about all of this, and Lucius's plan, in a new light.
The Malfoys and Blacks and all other Pureblood families' stance on muggle borns was tenuous. Ever since the wizarding war, anyone who had views like her husband did, or like her late mother and father did, kept them to themselves more often than not, now that anyone who was "blood supremacist" could be linked to the Dark Lord and the crimes he committed. But this didn't change these views. Narcissa knew these views well, views that her husband and countless others held. Views that muggle borns were less than. She had been raised on those views. She had seen firsthand the consequences of disagreeing with those perhaps Lucius's plan was for the best. If it would help protect the Malfoys' reputation, Narcissa could see how it was necessary.
Still, she thought, sitting down slowly on the bed, sliding open a drawer and lifting out a small photograph from beneath a stack of papers. Three girls sat primly on chairs for a portrait. Two had dark hair, one had light hair. Behind them stood an austere witch and wizard, hands on the backs of the chairs, gazing at the camera.
Still, Narcissa thought. She had seen the effects that views like this had on people, as well. One sister in prison. Her parents died sad and hateful.
What was the right way to go? The Dark Lord was gone. Surely, surely it would be better to simply get rid of all parts of that life, that way of thinking, and live normal, easy lives. Surely that would be best for Draco.
Narcissa held the photograph between two pale hands. She considered throwing it away. She considered tearing it in tiny pieces. Then she sighed. She slipped it back into the drawer and closed it slowly.
Ultimately, she knew that she would not have the bravery to go against the beliefs that had been long since instilled in her. She wasn't like Sirius, or Andromeda. She was destined to forever be a follower. Wasn't she?