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Everything he owned was coveted by many, and Lucius Malfoy was aware of this. He knew exactly the impression his mansion, his beautiful wife, his wealth, his prestige and his position at the ministry had been created, but that was never what was important about attaining any of them. No matter how grand his assets were, Lucius had an unquenchable thirst for more.

He had waited so long for this moment. Of course his face was carefully schooled to be the picture of sorrow itself, but behind the mask Lucius was anything but unhappy- Abraxas was dead and he had inherited everything. The Malfoy ancestral home was his, as were the lands sprawling in every direction as far as the eye could see. Lucius couldn't help but smile as he looked out of the window to behold his property. Behind him the door opened and his mother entered the study, clad in black mourning robes. Once again he forced his demeanour to become sombre.

"Lucius, no harm will come of you allowing things to carry on without your attention, at least not until you are fully recovered." Underneath the veil he could see concern shining from her eyes. "I'm proud of the way you're shouldering your responsibilities, but no one will be disappointed if you want to wait before completely taking on your role in society." He kissed her hand and continued the charade for her benefit- for all of her naïveté she was his mother, and he cared for her more than he ever had Abraxas.

"Don't you see, mother? This is what he would have wanted, and by working I manage to cope considerably better with the loss of father; it fills my days." Lucius accepted his mother's embrace and smirked over her shoulder. His only regret was that he could not share his triumph with her, but already it was not enough.

Never had there been a time when the Malfoy family had been anything less than rich, but with his clever investments their finances soared. Once Draco had been born Narcissa had hinted that it would be good for him to take a break from spending so much time at the ministry. She had shared his hunger, but never to the same extent.

"It is no longer possible for me to attend the quidditch match tomorrow, Draco." Lucius felt a twinge of guilt as his son's grey eyes welled up with tears- nothing in comparison for his yearning to be at the ministry. Fudge could be exploited so easily that it was positively criminal not to reap the rewards. The last time he had remained away for an entire day the knowledge that he could have more than he already did, no matter how insignificant the bounty, burned at his mind until he felt feverish. He turned on his heel and did not spare his son another glance.

Now he was trapped in the web that his own greed had spun. In attaching himself to the rising star of the Dark Lord, Lucius had failed to take into account that it could fall. All he had seen were more opportunities to gain power, influence and galleons. What the dementors did to him was not nearly as difficult to endure as the knowledge that every day he had a little less money. Imprisoned in Azkaban, all Lucius had was a memory of a time in which he had owned so much. But never quite enough...

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