Lucius Malfoy folded his hands quietly in his lap as he gazed out at the passing scenery. His perfectly groomed appearance portrayed a calm and poise Lucius did not feel. Inside he was desperately trying to control two dark forces, one a wild beast bent on blood and war and chaos. The other was a burning hatred for the spawn that leapt from his loins. He had envisioned a blossoming of an empire that only his son could secure with him. He needed Draco to realize a world ruled with an iron fist under the purebloods. Voldemort had failed most spectacularly and so he was left with a most unfortunate back up plan that had also not come to fruition. He had never been so close to death before. Draco had torn out his throat and left him for dead in the Malfoy Dungeon and for that, Lucius will never forgive him.

"My lord, we have arrived," one of his trusted servants bowed low as he opened the carriage door for him. Lucius lightly stepped down and looked up at the grand palace the Zabini's called their winter retreat. Marisca and Denzel were waiting for him, they were the Zabini's caretakers of the Italian villa.

"My lord, your chambers have been made ready. Is there any special requests?" Denzel asked as he led the way through the luscious front gardens up to the large fountain. Three Greek statues of women poured water eternally from large stone jugs in the center. One of them winked at him cheekily as he passed.

"No, I'll only be staying the night and then I must return to London," Lucius answered. Denzel nodded as the doors opened before them and he led the way up to a stately receiving room to his private chambers. The Zabini's kept these rooms strictly for the Malfoys. Lucius waved the servants away and walked over to the window overlooking the wide expanse of vineyards.

"I know you're here my son," Lucius murmured to himself. He half expected his son to appear out of the shadows to answer him but silence was all the response he got.

~~~!~~~~

"Do you really think he's here?" Hermione hissed as they wandered through the Zabini Vineyards, Draco resisted the urge to glance up at the windows of the Malfoy rooms.

"He'll be here soon. I can feel him," Draco growled, trying not to stomp through the fields towards the secret entrance to the dungeons under the palace.

"And Ragnarok?" She continued as they made it to the forbidding door.

"It's here as well. I'm going to have to fight him for it," Draco looked past her to Professor Shacklebolt.

"I know what to do if you lose," the man answered Draco's look.

"Good," Draco turned back to the door and opened it to the darkness beyond.

"I don't like this," Hermione stated.

"Neither do I," Draco responded, slamming the door behind them.

~~~!~~~

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Lucius' voice went up Draco's spine like a shot of electricity.

"I expected you to just come out fighting," Draco tried to calm his wildly beating heart, slow the adrenaline pulsing through him.

"You are my son, no matter what you have done," Lucius stood next to him, admiring the broadsword before them. It was held by a stone statue of a vampyr, kneeling as it held up the ancient relic.

"Does that mean I get the first blow?" Draco raised an eyebrow, still not turning to his father.

"You do not need to fight me. You are made of my blood, my magic. You know deep inside you will become me one day," Lucius told him mildly.

"I have become you," Draco breathed, Lucius looked at him, his sharp blue eyes burrowing into him.

"You have become a White Angel. Killing Darius sealed your fate as the avenger of those weaker than us. A bleeding heart for mortals the world over. You are a walking cliché, a real live hero," sarcasm dripped from Lucius' drawl. Draco resisted the urge to sucker punch his father, instead he dropped his arms, revealing Hellbind hanging from his belt and Apocalypse coiled below it, the hilt up for an easy, quick reach.

"Darius was of the Blood Clan," Draco spoke those hollow words, knowing deep down they weren't true.

"Darius was the Minister of the Vampyr Clans. He followed the will of our species-" Lucius growled, Draco hissed, interrupting his father abruptly.

"He was a traitor to everything you once stood for. Nothing about him was real. I remember him, you know. I was just a child but I remember him kneeling there, telling me everything was going to be okay. That you were doing the right thing. At long last," Draco finally returned Lucius' gaze full on. They were finally the same height, Draco could meet his father with a level gaze.

"Nothing you could say could rise my anger. Just my lingering regret and disappointment," Lucius' hand was resting on Ragnarok's pummel, his alabaster hand aglow in the eerie white sunrays.

"I will not bend to you," Draco drew himself up, taking a step back as his hand went to Apocalypse, the other on Hellbind.

"Then rot in hell where you belong," the sharp sound of stone against metal rang through the cavern.

"Stop!" Shacklebolt suddenly appeared out of the shadows with Hermione holding her wand dangerously close to his side.

"Give him the sword Lucius," Shacklebolt warned, glancing at Draco who was shocked into imitating a statue.

"He does not deserve it," Lucius replied, lowering the sword.

"You do not deserve it, not anymore," Shacklebolt told him, his eyes pleading as he walked towards his master.

"Will you return to me?" Lucius asked.

"I will but you must promise not to go after them. Let them be and leave off this scheme for world domination," Shacklebolt told him.

"Alright," Lucius held out the sword to his son. Slowly Draco took it, a feeling of dread settled over him as an evil power slowly crawled up from the sword, pricking his fingers and sliding like oil up his arm.

"We will see how long he resists," Lucius smirked at Draco before turning and taking Shacklebolt's arm, roughly escorting him out of the cavern.

"Did that just happen?" Hermione asked, looking thoroughly confused.

"It's the sword." Draco looked down on the ancient broadsword in his hands.

"What do you mean?" She asked, giving it a dubious look.

"It's evil, pure evil," Draco murmured, resisting the urge to return it to the vampyr statue.

Author's note: I think this is a little more of a satisfying ending than the one I wrote before. We will see if I think up something for a sequel. I definitely leave it open enough for it.