TW: In addition to suicide and sexual assault (which were mentioned in the prologue's TW), other topics that will be discussed or featured in the story include death and abuse. Also, as a general disclaimer, thoughts/actions/narration/dialogue/etc. throughout the story do NOT necessarily reflect my own views. That's especially pertinent in this chapter, which includes some warped lines of reasoning that I do not condone at all.

Thank you everyone for reading!


At the same time Diana and Sarah were embracing in Sarah's room, Lucius Malfoy was standing outside the doorway of his own son's room, working up the courage to enter and shatter his son's perception of him permanently.

Earlier in the day, Lucius was reminded of how and why he eventually fell in love with Narcissa over the years. He remembered pouring out all the details about his conversation with Abraxas, and Narcissa stood there listening, not interrupting once. At the end of the tale, the only question Narcissa asked him was, "How much longer do we have?" She then told him that she would begin sending letters and reaching out to all her contacts in order to help control the narrative that would soon emerge. Before leaving to meet with Barnabas Cuffe of the Daily Prophet, she told Lucius in no uncertain terms that he would be the one who needed to tell Draco.

She didn't specify what time though, so Lucius naturally procrastinated doing it for as long as he could. Why should he be in a rush to forever ruin his son's image of him?

After Narcissa left, Lucius wrote two letters. The first was written in about five minutes and was addressed to Cornelius Fudge, explaining the basics about the situation and requesting that the custody proceedings be fast-tracked in order to occur during the latest time slot possible on Sunday, and for the identities of the participants involved to be sealed until a judgment is made. While the Ministry was open every day of the week, the amount of people who would be in the building on a Sunday evening would be limited, and Lucius didn't want to encounter a bunch of rifraff trying to "make conversation" with him about the proceedings immediately after, when the information would be put in the public record. The whole world would find out about it soon enough.

The second letter took significantly longer to write. It was addressed to his mother, and the wastebasket near the writing desk was overflowing with crumpled drafts by the time Lucius finally wrote one he was satisfied with.

By the time his mother's letter was sent out, an owl from Borthwick arrived with a copy of the Blood Tracing document. After reading it more thoroughly than he did earlier, Lucius immediately went about the Manor grounds and put fresh offerings in the shrines that were collecting dust. The sheer statistical improbability that both his son and daughter would happen to be born on June 3rd had Lucius convinced that he must have offended some kind of divine presence in some way. He was only placated somewhat by the time of birth listed, which cemented Diana as being younger than Draco. Having an older sibling, even a female one, could have made things a bit more complicated in regards to the inheritance.

Then, he went to the Ministry to file the necessary paperwork. He remembered the clerk's gaping expression when he told him why he was there, and made it very, very clear that the clerk must be discreet with this information and that if it was leaked, he would know who did it. He remembered Fudge stopping him in the corridor and pulling him off to the side, whispering that he would send a letter later tonight after speaking with the council, but did not expect the transfer in custody to go as smoothly as it did in previous years.

("It's because of that awful business with the Rowles and Dolohovs, you see," Fudge whispered, wringing his hands. "The public doesn't have the stomach to see something like that happen again. The Association for Muggleborns and Muggle Rights has been propping those children up as martyrs. N-not that I expect something like….something like that to happen in your reputable household, o-of course! But—you know—there is the matter of Albus Dumbledore to consider.")

After that, Lucius returned home and opened up his liquor cabinet to pour himself a much-needed glass of alcohol, his first in eleven years. And then a second. And then a third. And so on.

Lucius spent the remaining hours staring vacantly at a spot on the wall, indulging in a rather long episode of self-pity, in which his thoughts drifted to various topics. He remained in his study for some time, the only other contact he had being Dobby, who brought (slightly overcooked) supper into his study. After tasting the meat, Lucius ordered Dobby to take the paperweight and beat himself with it until his forehead was bloody, but even that did not give him the pleasure he often felt when seeing his inferiors in pain. The overwhelming dread was just too great.

As the clock ticked by, Lucius realized that it was getting later and later and he'd have to speak with his son soon, otherwise Narcissa would return to find out the conversation hadn't happened, and that certainly wouldn't go over well. So Lucius rummaged through his cabinet, found and drank a potion that would clear his mind, and made his way across the mansion to his son's room.

Which brought him here, about to have what would perhaps be the most uncomfortable discussion of his life.

Sighing, Lucius knocked twice on the door. He heard some frantic movement from the other side and frowned. "Draco, I'm coming in."

Lucius creaked open the door and saw his son reclining on the bed, clutching onto his copy of A History of Magic—bookmark only a few pages in—that Narcissa wanted him to get a head start on. Once he saw his father, he shifted into a sitting position and looked at Lucius with wide eyes. Usually, if Lucius wanted to speak with Draco, he would talk to him either over supper or would call Draco into his study. Having his father show up unexpectedly at such a late hour was unusual.

Lucius's eyes scanned the room, noting with faint surprise that changes had been made with the decor since the last time he was there. All Draco's childhood toys were removed, as were the drawings and posters that once covered most of the wall. Feeling a twinge of guilt, Lucius remembered the last time he was in this room (And when was that? Weeks ago? Months?), telling Draco that his room looked childish and not appropriate for a young man going to Hogwarts.

The new room looked, on first glance, like its inhabitant would be a very tidy adult. The layout reminded Lucius of how his own room used to look like when he was Draco's age. However, a closer inspection would reveal—eliciting mixed emotions in Lucius— that the neatness was simply a facade. A magazine peeked out a tiny bit from under the bed, no doubt what Draco was actually reading before Lucius walked in. The dressers weren't fully able to shut due to the amount of junk inside, and the closet door was slightly ajar, perhaps for the same reason.

Draco straightened his back slightly. "Yes, Father?"

Lucius maintained a neutral expression despite the inner apprehension that was running through inside him. "I came here to…talk to you about something important."

Draco looked rigid and tense, causing Lucius to feel a stab of annoyance. Why does he sometimes get like this? If Draco didn't do anything bad, then there was no reason for him to be anxious. Lucius was a fair man who wouldn't punish him unless he deserved it.

"You're not in trouble," he clarified.

Draco's posture relaxed slightly, but only slightly. His eyes drifted to Jormungandr, causing them to shine in awe and greed, and he finally smiled.

"That's really it—Jormungandr? Mother told me that you have now, that you're the official head of the family, but she said you'd tell me the rest later. How did you get it? I thought Grandfather would never give it up. It's about ti—"

"I said that I needed to tell you something important, did I not? I'm uncertain as to why you find it appropriate to bombard me with questions at this time."

"...Sorry." Draco's enthusiasm deflated and he glanced warily at the cane Lucius was holding.

Feeling a twinge of guilt, Lucius said, "There will be a time for questions later, just not now."

Draco looked at him curiously. Figuring this was going to be a long conversation–Lucius took the chair from the desk and brought it to the side of his son's bed and sat down, attempting to appear more approachable and less formal. Draco blinked at his father, puzzled. Lucius didn't blame him. Everything about this encounter was abnormal.

Lucius knew Draco was waiting for him to say more, but his mouth grew dry and he couldn't quite remember how he planned on starting this speech. It was suddenly as though he was eleven again.

How the hell does one even begin a conversation like this? "Before you were born, Draco, I kept a Muggle as a slave for three months, and I just found out she had a child. That child is now going to Hogwarts, and she's also being adopted into our family since she's a Malfoy by blood and your grandfather won't give me my rightful inheritance unless I formally acknowledge her. Also, you'll be getting less money in the will because of this. Be sure to act pleasantly towards her."

No, that wouldn't do. He needed to start in an unassuming way and then work up to it.

"What were you trying to hide before I came in?" Lucius asked. He didn't mean for it to sound accusatory, but that was the way it came out.

Draco's eyes glanced down at the copy of A History of Magic he was holding, and paused, debating whether or not to tell the truth.

"A Qudditch magazine," Draco finally said. He knew better than to lie to his father. "I thought it would be okay to take a break for five minutes. I already got a head start on my books for Hogwarts—I'm pretty far in, actually. I'll probably be top of my class once I start."

Lucius doubted that, but kept those misgivings to himself. He wanted to believe his son. "Hmm. Perhaps it's in your blood to be so interested in the sport. My brothers played for the Slytherin team when they attended Hogwarts."

Draco's eyes widened and Lucius mentally kicked himself for bringing them up. "What positions did they play?"

It was very rare for Lucius to bring up his siblings in conversations, so he felt a bit uncomfortable as he said, "Cassius—the eldest—was a Beater, and Gaius was the Seeker."

Draco's eyes gleamed and he smirked. "Once I'm a second-year, I'm going to be the Slytherin Seeker too."

Of course that's what you want. The Seeker was the most prestigious position, so naturally, Draco wanted it. Lucius smiled at his son's ambition.

"Perhaps. When you're older, I'll buy you a new broom, and then we'll see." Lucius paused. He knew he needed to bring up the girl, but couldn't bring himself to do so yet, so he said the first thing that came into his mind. "I can still see the mess in this room. You need to clean it properly. A chaotic room reflects a chaotic mind."

Draco winced slightly. "I-I know. I'll do it tomorrow. Or I could do it now, if you want me to."

"Tomorrow. There's something we must discuss that takes priority."

That guarded expression came back to Draco's face. Despite what Lucius told him, Lucius could tell that Draco still felt he was in some degree of trouble.

Inwardly steadying himself, Lucius began: "I visited your grandfather early this morning."

Draco stiffened and couldn't quite hide the scowl on his face; he knew how Abraxas felt about him, and felt the same way in return. As a thought occurred to him, his eyes lit up. "Is he dead?" he asked, trying—and failing—to keep the hopeful tone out of his voice.

Unfortunately not. "No. He wanted to discuss a change he made to the will."

"What did he want?" Draco asked. His fingers were gripping the sheets. "Is he…am I not going to get any money when he dies?"

Lucius frowned. He's far too young to even be thinking about that. "You'll get plenty of money—you're my heir, remember?" Draco smiled widely, which made the next part difficult. "However"—the smile faded slightly—"you might not be getting…quite as much as originally anticipated. Not because of anything you did"—he rushed to explain as Draco's mouth opened in protest—"but because your grandfather needs to set aside some of the fortune for the newest addition to our family."

Saying the last sentence felt like swallowing poison. A half-Muggle child, living in Malfoy Manor. What a disgrace. "My father requested a Blood Tracing, and you have a younger sibling."

Younger by nine fucking hours, thank the gods.

Draco's eyes widened and his mouth was gaping slightly. Before Lucius could tell him to close it, Draco asked, "Is Mother…pregnant? I didn't think that was possible."

Lucius blinked. It was a logical assumption, and the possibility of an unborn child showing up on a Blood Tracing was one that didn't cross his mind. He wasn't even sure if a child still in the womb could be traced. "No, your mother's not pregnant. Your sister is close to you in age"—extremely close–"and was born before that disreputable cretin cursed me."

"Oh, said Draco, sounding slightly disappointed. Lucius wasn't surprised. When Draco was very young–—before being able to understand the curse fully—he would sometimes whine that he wanted a younger brother to act as some sort of sidekick.

"Then I don't understand," Draco frowned, puzzled. "Did I have a twin that I was separated from?"

The possibility of Lucius having cheated (No, it wasn't cheating) on Narcissa didn't even cross Draco's mind, bless him. His son thought the word of him and believed him to be a good man, the kind of man that he wanted to one day emulate.

Within a few minutes, that pedestal will be shattered.

Within a few minutes, his son would know that he was a rapist.

Within a few minutes, his son would hate him.

I can't do this.

Lucius seriously considered, for a moment, just standing up and leaving. Let Narcissa do it. Let him find out by reading the newspaper, same way as everyone else; anything not to have this conversation.

But that thought was pushed to the back of his mind. No. His fists clenched around Jormungandr. I'm the head of this household. It must be me.

"You don't have a twin," he said thinly. "Draco, what do you know about my prior involvement with the Death Eaters?"

"I know the Dark Lord was going to bring our world back to greatness again, and you were trying to help him do that. I know that you had to pretend to be under the Imperius in order to avoid Azkaban since the Wizengamot is full of pathetic blood traitors."

Abraxas's suggestion to Obliviate his son whispered through his head for a second, but only a second. "Yes, well, during my service to the Dark Lord, we would, on occasion, encounter Muggles." He stopped as his throat suddenly grew dry again. He swallowed. "And sometimes we'd…"–—how the hell do I explain this?–—"take certain Muggles and keep them as"–—pets–—"captives."

Draco's brow furrowed. "Why?"

Because it was fun. "Because it's simply the nature of warfare. The strong conquers the weak and has dominion over them. Even among Muggles, that's how it's done. You've read your history books, correct?"

"I did, but I thought we weren't actually in open war with Muggles...I thought it was more as though we were at war with the Ministry."

"That's true, it wasn't open war," Lucius admitted with reluctance. "But remember, our goal was to…prove our blood superiority. Enslaving Muggles was a means to do that."

"I…think I understand," Draco said. Lucius hoped he didn't.

"Right. So, since I was a Death Eater, it was only natural that I would take a couple captives as well." In truth, only about a quarter of Death Eaters were privileged enough to be invited to the Acheron, but Draco didn't need to know that. "And what do you recall about captives taken during the ancient wars in the history books? What services did they…perform?"

"They were made slaves. They could be used for labor. They would sometimes be killed for the amusement of their masters." He started to grin. "In Rome, they would throw prisoners into the Colosseum where they'd fight lions or even each other. Is that what you did, Father? Make the Muggles fight each other?" Draco looked at his father with wonder and wistfulness. "I bet it would have been fun to see." Gods above, how did he get like this? He's only eleven.

"I…it's true we did sometimes take…amusement in their deaths." An image of Caroline flickered briefly in his mind. "What about women specifically?" Men were also occasionally kept at the Acheron, though Lucius never had any interest in them. He figured that, for the sake of the conversation, it would be best to keep it simple.

"Hmm. I don't really remember. I liked the lions and the chapter where that Greek man drowned 3,000 slaves, but I thought the other chapters were a bit boring."

Damn it, how much am I going to have to explain?

"Captured women would often become…slaves to all sorts of whims for their master, often used for more…personal purposes, ordered around in such a way that is viewed today by most as improper."

Draco looked bewildered. "I don't understand, Father. Did you make them do chores like a house elf?"

No, Draco certainly would not be at the top of his class this year.

Fuck my life, and all my choices that led me here to this moment. "They'd be used for intimate encounters, Draco. Similar to what occurs between man and wife. One of those Muggles became pregnant with your sister."

And there it was, finally out in the open. Draco stared at Lucius in confusion for a few seconds. Then it clicked, and his face slowly grew pale and his eyes widened in dawning horror.

"You're the father?" he whispered.

"That's correct." I wish it wasn't.

"But how?"

Lucius felt a pang of annoyance. "The same way wizard children are conceived, as I mentioned."

"Y-you mated with one?!"

"I–yes, I did."

"B-But Mr. Selwyn said that's beastiality!" Dorset Selwyn was Draco's tutor.

Lucius bristled at the implied offense. "Muggles are our inferiors, yes, but they can still speak and reason and look identical to us. We're physically…compatible." Jupiter, strike me down now.

Faint traces of pink appeared on Draco's face. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, and his expression flickered through several different emotions. "Is-is this some kind of test?"

"...What?"

Draco previously looked shaken, but now he appeared more confident. "I see what you're doing, Father."

"Then enlighten me, because I have no idea what you're going on about."

"You—you want to test my faith in you. To see if I would believe you would be capable of debasing yourself like this. It won't work; I know you too well."

Ouch. "I swear by Veritas that I'm not lying to you, Draco."

Draco's eyes widened; invoking the Goddess of Truth was no small matter. His gaze drifted down to the book, suddenly finding it interesting. He couldn't look his father in the eyes, not that Lucius expected any different. He too was glad he didn't have to look his son in the eyes anymore.

Still, he felt the need to defend himself. "I realize it may be…difficult for a child to understand, but adults, they—this sort of behavior is not uncommon."

"But Muggles are dirty creatures—they're lesser beings! That's what you said!"

Lucius was getting frustrated. "They are. It wasn't—look, Draco. When the explorers of old would encounter the native women, they would show their dominion by taking them for themselves. They certainly didn't view the savages as equals, now did they? They knew them to be lesser, dirty creatures."

Draco didn't say anything, still staring down at his book. Not being able to take the silence, Lucius continued. "History is full of men who had…relations with women in groups they viewed as inferior—subhuman, even. Both wizards and Muggles share this history. It's human nature."

There was another long pause. "But…you said she was younger," Draco mumbled quietly, so quietly that Lucius could barely hear him.

"Your sister? Yes, she is."

When Draco looked up, he had a spark of anger in his eyes. "If she's younger, then how is it possible? You were married to Mother!"

"Watch your tone. I understand that this is…difficult to accept, but I will not tolerate my son speaking to me in such a way." Draco's gaze drifted back down to his book and mumbled a soft, inauthentic apology, eyes still hardened. "In regards to your question, your Mother and I were only recently married at the time." He initially courted Narcissa because she was beautiful and from a prestigious bloodline; 'love' didn't factor into the decision, though he grew to love her deeply over time. "Make no mistake, this Muggle girl, she–—she wasn't a mistress in the proper sense. She was, well…" Lucius trailed off. He had no idea how to describe what she was. "She was simply a lapse in judgment."

Draco started fidgeting with the top of the pages. "So it was…one time?"

Luicus hesitated. He wanted to lie and agree, but the truth would have gotten out eventually. "No, it wasn't."

"How—how long was it then?"

It felt longer, but…"About three months."

Draco turned to look at his father with shock, horror, and–—yes, there it was–—disgust.

"But…why?" he asked finally. "Why did it happen?"

Why?

That was the big question, wasn't it? How many nights before and after his trial had he stayed up late wondering that very same thing? And yet, the answer eluded him.

Was it because she seduced him like some kind of succubus with her bright, imploring blue eyes, causing him to act on pure lust and emotion?

Was it because he was foolishly second-guessing the decision to marry Narcissa and felt the impulse to sow his oats, and this girl was a convenient receptacle?

Was it because having her at his complete mercy gave him a sense of power and control that he lacked in other aspects of his life?

Was it because the dehumanization of Muggles was woven into the very fabric of society, making her seem less like a "real" person in his eyes and more like a talking object to act upon?

Was it because he felt like it was some warped way of proving his supremacy as a Pureblood, after being doubted most his life due to sharing a womb with a squib?

Was it because at the Acheron, he didn't need to put on the mask of a respectable member of society and could engage in whatever twisted whims flitted across his thoughts?

Was it because it seemed normal since everyone else was doing it, and he didn't want to seem abnormal by abstaining?

Was it because it felt nice to sometimes talk to someone who had no idea who he was and had no preconceptions of him?

Was it because he's a sadistic fuck who found her physical, mental, and emotional pain and her teary eyes and soft pleads and quivering lips to be extremely arousing?

Was it all of the above?

Was it some of the above?

Was it none of the above?

"I don't know," Lucius replied honestly. "Sometimes power leads one to certain…impulses, many of which, in retrospect, are often poor."

" 'Poor impulses?'" Draco repeated, a noticeable edge creeping into his voice. He looked at Lucius in a way that took Lucius by surprise. "This Muggle must have been really pretty" Draco's voice was now dripping with venom, reflecting a mixture of anger and hurt"if she was able to lead a Pureblood around for three months like–like some kind of prized lapdog!"

Something snapped in Lucius, and a second later, Draco cried out in pain, clutching his cheek. "How dare you talk to me like that?" he snarled.

The rebellious spirit was quickly extinguished. Draco looked downward again and cradled his stinging cheek, mumbling apologies that sounded more genuine than earlier. Still, Lucius wasn't pacified and familiar, violent impulses swirled through his head. "I do so much for you, and you have the arrogance to sit here judging me?"

Calm down. It's reasonable to expect him to be angry, his conscience–the one that always fretted for the comfort of his son–whispered. Another smug, oily competing voice that sounded like Abraxas murmured, You did warn him already, though. You need to show your authority again. He never seems to learn.

He stood up and Draco shrank back a bit, but Lucius grabbed his right shoulder tightly.

"She didn't 'lead me' anywhere." Lucius tried very, very hard to sound calm, but his grip on Draco tightened, and his son bit his lip to stop from crying out. "This girl, she…she was a harlot, everyone knew it. That was her purpose. Why throw something out if it's not broken? That's why I chose to keep her around. That's it. I don't need your insinuations or your attitude."

Draco winced and his eyes were watery, and Lucius tried to push aside the guilt that was starting to gnaw at him. Should he go further? The forcefulness of his grip would probably end up causing a bruise, but was that enough? Did Draco deserve more? After a second of deliberation, he let go of his son's shoulder and returned to his seat. Draco rubbed his arm, eyes glazed over and downcast.

"So," Lucius continued as if nothing happened, "I'm letting you know in advance that this is going to cause a scandal, and you need to be prepared. It's unfortunate that this revelation coincides with your first year at Hogwarts, but there's no avoiding it. In the coming days, your mother and I will be rehearsing how to answer certain questions. Since the child is a Malfoy by blood, she will be moving into the Manor and living with us. I realize this transition will be…challenging, but I expect you to be welcoming to your new sister."

Draco's head shot up and Lucius was pleased (relieved) to see his eyes regain their normal sharp, yet non-defiant, look. He opened his mouth, but quickly closed it after. Draco clearly had questions, but didn't seem keen on asking them.

"If you have questions, ask them now," said Lucius, trying to adopt a patient tone. "You know you can always be open with me. I'll be extremely busy within the next few days and won't have the time to indulge you then."

Draco's gaze dropped again. He asked tentatively, "What's her name?"

"Diana."

Draco glanced up again, surprised. "After the goddess of the hunt? I-I didn't know Muggles knew about her."

"They know enough, though she isn't worshiped by them anymore. I can't say with certainty whether she's named after the goddess, however. There's a Muggle princess with the same name, and I suppose your sister could have been named after her instead."

"Is…is her mother coming to live here too, at the Manor?"

"No," Lucius immediately replied.

There was a moment of silence. Lucius thought that was it and was about to get up to leave before Draco asked quietly, "What's she like—Diana?"

Lucius blinked. "I'm not sure. I haven't spoken to her. She was raised among Muggles, so I would caution you to keep your initial expectations low. She'll be trained to act as a proper Malfoy once she's removed from Muggle influence."

"Do you think she'll be in Slytherin?"

Lucius wasn't sure if that would be better or worse for the child. He didn't give her Sorting a second thought, truthfully. "I would expect so. There have been Half-blood Slytherins in the past, and all Malfoys have been sorted there."

"Where is she even going to stay when she's here at the Manor?" A sudden thought occurred to him and he blurted out, "I'm not giving up my room!"

"Are you the one paying taxes?" Lucius snapped. "I own this home and will decide where she goes." He paused. "However, you needn't worry. It makes more sense to put her in an unused room." In truth, he hadn't considered that point until Draco mentioned it. She would likely need to stay in Lavinia's old room, which hasn't been touched in decades.

I'm not ready for this.

Draco's eyes dared to drift toward his father again as his grip on the sheet tightened and the edge in his eyes came back. "I don't want her to come, Father. I don't want anything to change. There shouldn't be Muggle blood in the Manor—it's wrong."

"Unfortunately for you, I'm the head of the household. You don't get a say in what will or will not change. She is coming, and that's final."

To Lucius's irritation, Draco's eyes started to water again. "Everything about this, everything you did….it-it's not…it's not right. Everyone in school is going to hate and make fun of me!"

"Draco, you—"

"They will, I know they will! I thought going to Hogwarts would be amazing, but now I know it's going to be terrible."

"This is ridic—"

"How could you do something like this? It's sick and wrong!"

"I said watch your tone. I don't think you want—"

"I hate that Muggle s-slut!" Tears were now starting to trickle out of his son's eyes.

"If your mother could hear what filth is coming out of your mouth, she'd—"

Draco mustered enough courage (or stupidity) to ignore him and yell, "I hate my stupid sister, who's also probably a slut. And, I—I—I h-hate you too!"

This time the blow was harder than before, more out of pure shock and instinct than anything else. Draco was now crying freely and several different emotions were rushing through Lucius at once. He latched on to one that was the least debilitating: anger.

"Stop acting like an ungrateful brat and compose yourself! You think I want this? You think I want any of this? Your whining and sulking does nothing to change the situation. You don't have to love her. You don't even need to like her. You don't even need to like me! You just need to put on a decent enough charade so we don't get publicly skewered like the Rowles."

There was a moment of silence while Draco kept crying softly and rubbing his cheek while Lucius attempted to look stern, but in reality, his insides were completely caving in.

He hates me.

After Lavinia died, Lucius went off on his father in a way that was similar to Draco's rant but much longer and more vitriolic, culminating with an impassioned cry of, "I hate you!" He was thrashed so badly that it took him almost a month for all parts of his body to feel normal again, but the hatred and bitterness never fully healed. And now, Lucius was repeating the same mistake with his own child.

'Mistake?' The oily voice crawled its way into Lucius's mind again. Oh, please. This was nothing. And it's not a 'mistake' to enforce your authority. He can't talk to you like that, regardless of how he's feeling. Besides, it's his fault; he keeps doing it to himself.

Even so, there had to be other ways to react. Hitting him wouldn't cause Draco to like him more.

But what does it matter if Draco liked him or not? He's Draco's parent, not his friend. He needed to be respected.

And how else was he supposed to react to such blatant disrespect?

No, Lucius made the right decision. Draco deserved it.

Still…

Choosing not to think it over, Lucius removed his wand from Jormungandr and muttered a healing spell, causing the darkness to recede from his son's cheek, which would have otherwise been bruised too. He considered doing the same for the shoulder, but decided against it. He needed to retain at least some pain, otherwise Lucius would seem like a pushover.

"I hope you realize the only reason I'm doing this is because I want your sister to have a good first impression of you," Lucius lied. "I don't want her to assume that her brother's a rude and disrespectful child, even if that's what you're being right now. It would give a bad impression."

Draco drew his knees up to his face and buried it in them. He voiced his next thought so quietly that Lucius almost didn't hear: "I bet it would give her a bad impression of you too."

Lucius's jaw dropped.

This never happened. Ever.

To have Draco show multiple signs of insubordination in such a short period was unprecedented, and it was extremely unsettling. What the hell was happening? Was this a possible bellwether of what's to come? Would he lose control of the whole wizarding world the same way he was losing control of his son?

He needed to regain the power and authority that he somehow lost in the course of the past hour. "All right, get up," Lucius snapped. "Clearly I've been too lenient with you today and you've forgotten your place."

Draco lifted his head and looked at Lucius with sad, regretful eyes. "I'm sorry…"

"I'm sure you are. Now, do I have to repeat myself?"

Draco got up, but was talking while he did. "I don't know why I said–-it's just—"— his lip quivered again—"How am I supposed to make alliances at school if she's following me around everywhere? It's going to be so embarrassing…"

Fucking hell, "alliances." Is that what this is all about?

Lucius tried very, very hard not to roll his eyes, anger dimming. Him and Narcissa weren't quite sure what caused it, but Draco was somehow under the impression that his first year at Hogwarts would involve him being some kind of Machiavellian chessmaster, "building alliances" and whatnot with students of prominent bloodlines like some kind of eleven-year-old politician.

Lucius theorized that Draco's fantasy version of Hogwarts was developed due to him elevating the stories Lucius and Abraxas told him of their own time at Hogwarts into near-mythological status and wanting the same for himself. In truth, all connections of worth had already been forged long before Draco was even born. But Draco had his heart set on this idea, and carrying around the dead weight of a Half-blood sister certainly wouldn't do him any favors there.

"You're a Malfoy. It's in your blood to overcome challenges and adversity, Draco. I have faith in you, even if you don't have faith in yourself," Lucius said evenly.

Draco hesitantly looked up at Lucius after hearing praise. Lucius expected him to say, 'Of course I'll be able to do it' in a display of usual arrogance, but that didn't happen. Instead, Draco mumbled softly, eyes shining again, "I really am sorry. I–I don't hate you Father. I swear by V-Veritas that's true."

The ice in Lucius's heart thawed a bit; it was the first time Draco ever swore by Veritas. He walked over to Draco—ignoring his son's flinch—and put his hand gently on the shoulder he didn't grab earlier. "I know. I…realize these circumstances are difficult for you. They're going to be difficult for your mother and myself, as well. But we will get through this, Draco. But I need you to be strong, composed, and in control. Can you do that for me?"

Draco nodded, looking determined. "Of course, Father."

"Good." He hesitated. There was an internal struggle in his mind, one side finally becoming triumphant. "If we were to…end this conversation here, could I trust that you would learn from your mistakes and not repeat them?"

Draco's eyes lit up, not believing his luck; Lucius had never done something like this before. He nodded rapidly.

"Very well." He gestured toward the bed with his cane and Draco went back under the covers, eyes still wide in surprise.

"T-thank you, Father."

He wasn't sure how to respond, so he just nodded stiffly. "It's late. When I leave, I expect you to go asleep instead of reading."

Draco looked down guiltily. "I will."

Lucius turned back to leave, but stopped in the doorway. "It's only natural for this news to be upsetting, but it might not be as bad as you imagine. Having a sister your own age gives you a best friend and confidante—she'll be there when no one else is. Being able to attend Hogwarts in the same year is a privilege not many receive."

Draco looked up at Lucius curiously; he knew Lucius had a twin who died, but didn't know much else, and but Lucius wasn't going to say any more on that matter. Lucius continued, "Draco?"

"Yes?"

Lucius could see his son was tense again, which made him annoyed. "I know you feel that I'm harsh at times, but everything I do is for your continued benefit. You know I…care for you a great deal, correct?"

He couldn't quite say the words, "I love you." He genuinely felt it, and he tried to say it many times before, but the words just couldn't come out. He could say it to Narcissa, so he wasn't sure what emotional hangups were preventing him from saying it to his son.

Draco looked uncomfortable. "I…care for you a lot too, Father. And I'm sorry about the things I said earlier. Not just about, um, hating you, but also the other things as well."

"I certainly hope so. You were out of line and needed correction. Surely you know that if the circumstances were less…unique, youwould have–and should have–received more than what I gave."

Draco nodded. Still, there was a spark of…something, behind Draco's eyes. Something Lucius never saw there before, something that made him uncomfortable. Whatever it was, he'd have to keep an eye on it.

"Do you disagree?" he asked in a sharper tone.

"No." Fear replaced whatever emotion was lurking there. For now.

"I thought so." Lucius paused. "When we go to Diagon Alley next, I'll buy you something new as a reward for being polite when she comes. Start thinking about what you might want to buy."

"A racing broom?" Draco asked hopefully.

"Perhaps. Goodnight, Draco."

And with that, Lucius turned around and headed out of the room, feeling his son's eyes lingering on his retreating figure.

As he headed down the hallway, he mulled over the events of the conversation. It wasn't a particularly good conversation, but he didn't expect it to go any other way. Given the subject matter, did he handle everything properly? Was he too harsh? Too lenient? Did he mention everything important? Did he leave out anythi—

Lucius stopped. While he may have alluded to the idea, it suddenly occurred to him now that he never actually told Draco, "What I did was wrong."

But was it?

He fully planned on telling Draco that in order to discourage him from engaging in Lucius's impulses. And from a legal standpoint, it absolutely was, which is why Narcissa and him decided—after his trial many years ago—that they wouldn't have Draco grow up in an environment where that sort of behavior was condoned, despite its tacit endorsement in many Pureblood circles.

But was it morally wrong?

As he told Draco, it's simply the law of nature for the strong to conquer the weak.

Plus, she was a Muggle. She should be honored to have received his seed and birthed a witch child. Hadn't Sarah talked about how she wanted to live so she could change the world for the better? Lucius made that dream possible; she should be thanking him, really. Thanking him for impregnating her with his child, and for treating her much nicer than some of the other Death Eater treated their pets. He even, on occasion, healed her, listened to her nonsense, fed her, and–on rare occasion–bought her something so she would look nice.

How could he truly be a bad person if he did that?

And for all her token protests, hadn't her body always accepted and reacted to him? Surely that must show, on some level, that she knew her place and wanted him in return. Lucius remembered Sarah telling him during the third month that she loved him (and him laughing and mocking her in return). How could that be "rape," then? With the others, perhaps, but with him?

As Lucius continued to make his way down the hall, he looked at his tired, haunted reflection in the mirror and stopped.

Who the fuck was he kidding?

He raped Sarah White.

Whether it was morally wrong to do so was a separate issue, but he couldn't deny that at least some of their…interactions were nonconsensual. And once their daughter entered the world, she would know it too.

"Dobby!" Lucius called out sharply. He didn't want to think about this unpleasantness anymore.

Dobby popped up instantly when called, as usual. "Y-yes, Master Malfoy? How can Dobby be of service?"

Lucius noted with satisfaction that Dobby's forehead was still bruised from earlier. "Have there been any letters from the Minister?"

"Yes, Master Malfoy," whimpered Dobby.

Lucius felt his temper rise. "And why did you not inform me of this?"

"B-because Master Malfoy instructed me not to interrupt him while he was talking with Master Draco, sir."

It sounded vaguely familiar; Lucius must have still been drunk when he gave the order. "Hand it to me immediately," snarled Lucius.

Dobby squeaked and popped out, only to pop back in with the letter a few seconds later. He gave it to Lucius, who read it and felt himself grow cold.

"Give yourself thirty lashes for keeping this from me."

"B-but Master said…"

"Are you contradicting me?"

"N-no, sir!"

"You should have been drowned at birth. Make it sixty. Go!"

Dobby vanished immediately. Lucius continued to stare at the letter, aghast. Fudge said earlier that this custody case would not be dealt with as smoothly as previous ones, and that was clear.

Custody cases were typically dealt with in one of the lower courts. Lucius's, however, was going straight to the Wizengamot, something that he feared and suspected would occur, but had never actually happened before when a case involved a Muggle parent. Usually these cases were cut and dry (the wizard parent was always favored), but apparently, the desire to bump it up to the higher court was pushed by Dumbledore as a way to "express concerns" about the current precedent and direction of Wizard-Muggle custody arrangements. It was a dressed-up way of saying that Dumbeldore and the rest of the bleeding hearts were upset about the treatment of recently publicized half-Muggle bastard children who met grisly ends at the hands of their biological families. Dumbledore and several others on the Wizengamot apparently felt placing Diana with Lucius would lead to potential safety risks.

Utter rubbish. Lucius wasn't lying to his father when he said he wouldn't stoop to killing his own child. Clearly though, there were enough that disagreed. Fudge projected that Lucius would win the arrangement with a 60-40 win, which gave some room for error, but was too close for comfort in Lucius's opinion, especially since previous cases have never gone with less than 75% in favor of the wizard.

It wasn't all bad news. The time slot was the one Lucius wanted, and the details and identities of the participants in the case would be kept under lock and key until a judgment is made.

It wouldn't do him any good to think about that now, though. About thirty minutes later, Luicus was lying down in bed when Narcissa finally arrived, a few strands of out-of-place hair being the only visible signs of her inner discomfort.

"How did the conversation go?" she asked by way of greeting.

Lucius thought about Draco. How did the conversation go? He wasn't fully sure. "He's upset, not that I blame him. This is going to completely uproot his entire life."

Narcissa nodded sadly, eyes misting over. Lucius felt more guilt at this very moment than he did in the previous ten years combined. Lucius continued, "His emotions appeared…scattered. They led to some poor choices on his part, unfortunately."

"You know I defer to your judgment when it comes to our son, but please try to give him some grace. He already has enough difficulty when it comes to processing heavy emotions, and now he's grappling with several at the same time."

"I did," he protested.

Narcissa raised an eyebrow, but chose not to press the issue. "How did it end?"

Lucius thought of the unusual glint in Draco's eye, but wasn't quite sure what to make of it. "I believe he's willing to accept her into the household for the good of the family. He doesn't like it—understandable, none of us do—but he realizes it's inevitable. He's more concerned with how this is going to affect his experience at Hogwarts more than anything else."

"That's my concern as well," Narcissa murmured as she slipped into a silk nightgown (Gods, she's beautiful).

"The Malfoy name elicits power, regardless if there's a Half-blood bastard running around. Surely no Slytherin would be stupid enough to pick a fight over this. The other Houses might, but he'd have to learn to deal with them regardless."

"Children can be cruel," she whispered as she slipped underneath the covers. "They might smell blood in the water. I worry for him."

"He's my heir," Lucius said with confidence that was perhaps unwarranted. "He'll learn how to deal with issues like this—it's necessary. How did your conversations go?"

Narcissa exhaled and suddenly looked much more tired. Not a good sign. "Barnabas says the public tide has shifted when it comes to custody situations like this. The degeneracy of the Dolohovs and Rowles—"

"I'm sick of hearing those names," Lucius hissed irritably. "We're being conflated with them simply because we're Purebloods who travel in adjacent social circles. I have no doubt this is by design—Arthur Weasley's doing, perhaps."

"Regardless, those trials became spectacles, and now there's a whole contingent that wants to appear progressive and on the 'right side of history.' It's a farce, but one that's going to cause us problems. Your father was right in—no, stop, just listen please—he was right in that the best way to go about this is to lean into the 'feel-good' aspect of the story. The way it's going to be reported in the Prophet is that your father did a Blood Tracing and found this girl in the records, and you are going to take it upon yourself to care for the child and bring her up in our ways out of a sense of paternal honor and nobility. The report frames you as someone who prioritizes family and personal responsibility over political views, and this applies whether or not the reader believes your actions were under the Imperius or not. There is no visible benefit to you acknowledging the girl, which leads the reader to conclude that your desire to bring her into the family is genuine."

Lucius's expression clearly reflected his distaste, and Narcissa giggled. "I know it's trite, but think about the audience we need to appeal to."

"What does Barnabas say about…the girl's mother?"

Narcissa's expression grew more serious. "Nothing, really. What is there to say? She's a Muggle. It'll go the way it always does." Lucius remained silent. Narcissa's voice developed a slight edge. "Right?"

Lucius realized that Narcissa misinterpreted his silence and told her about the letter from Fudge, inwardly wincing at the expression of horror on his wife's face. "It should still go our way," Lucius rushed to reassure her. "It might just be…closer than expected."

"The Wizengamot? For a child custody case involving a Muggle parent?" she said in disbelief. "It's devastating, seeing how far our society has fallen." She paused for a moment, then asked in a hushed tone, as if fearful of even voicing the thought aloud: "If the Wizengamot proves to be less…prudent than their occupation historically demands, what's our next step?"

Lucius thought for a moment. "I highly doubt my father even entertained the possibility of the court voting in favor of a Muggle over a Malfoy. Assuming the shock of the news doesn't kill him then, it's possible he'd adjust the will, but I could just as well see him concocting some new course of action. Unfortunately, the Quaffle's on his side of the pitch."

Narcissa frowned. That was too passive an option, and Lucius agreed. "We could appeal it," Narcissa suggested. "Wait until more time has passed and the masses shift their attention to centaur rights or whatever social cause is fashionable in a year's time."

"Or we could stop tiptoeing around our inferiors and just grab the bull by the horns," Lucius sighed with frustration. "I'm Lucius Malfoy. If—by some extremely poor lapse in judgment—I'm denied custody, I will get what I want."

A flirtatious smirk appeared on Narcisa's red lips. "Oh?"

"Yes." The more he thought about it, the more obvious it was. "The mother can be dealt with."

Narcissa cocked her head to the side. "If they suspect foul play, this is going to be even more difficult."

"I can make her give the child up. She'll do what I ask—I won't even need to use magic."

Lucius was aware they were approaching some uncomfortable territory. Narcissa, to her credit, didn't pry, but did look at Lucius with one of her unreadable expressions. There was a fairly long moment of silence, which was broken by Narcissa saying, "I spoke with my sister today."

Fuck. "If there's anything you want to ask about the Acheron, you could ask me. You don't need to visit Azkaban just to—"

Narcissa chuckled lightly. "I didn't visit Bella."

Fuuuuck. "That's…unexpected. Why would you visit"—-a blood traitor—-"Andromeda now? How many years has it been? A decade? Two decades?"

Narcissa blushed slightly. "To be honest, I'm not entirely sure. I felt the need to talk to someone and Andromeda came to mind. Once I thought of her, no one else seemed like an appropriate choice. She was always the one I used to go to…I never had a need to confide in someone since she left. I was surprised at how quickly she seemed to…accept my presence."

Lucius supposed that his trial ten years ago didn't come as a surprise to her or require the need for a confidante, given the proclivities of her own father. She probably even expected it, going into the marriage. The thought made him feel a bit guilty, though he wasn't quite sure why.

Narcissa continued, "It wasn't a purely sentimental decision, though—there was a pragmatic reason for me to go to her as well. Being seen with her provides good optics if we're to convince the public that our family is earnest in our willingness to associate with someone who possesses Muggle blood."

Lucius fought down his disgust at the thought. "Did you see the husband?"

"Fortunately, no. But I did see the daughter." She shuddered slightly. "Part of me feels for Andromeda, truly. I don't think Nymphadora will ever get married. Still, it was…intriguing to see my sister's child in person. So different from Andromeda, but there are similarities. She also might prove useful—apparently, she's training to be an Auror."

Lucius scoffed and Narcissa laughed. "I know, I couldn't believe it either. An Auror from the Black family…unbelievable."

There was another silence, but this time it was natural and companionable. Lucius was the one to break it this time. "I'm sorry for all of this. You shouldn't have to raise a…a Half-blood. It's unseemly for a woman of your stature."

Narcissa leaned over and caressed his cheek. "I didn't agree to marry the Malfoy heir because I expected an easy life."

Still, Lucius wasn't pacified. "Narcissa, she's going to pollute the Manor with her dirty blood. Our focus should be on our son, but now you and I have to spend our energy on this Half-blood while she pushes Draco out of his designated allotment of the inheritance. She's going to be a problem, I can tell."

She traced the outline of his jaw. "What do you want us to do about it, then?"

Good question. "I don't know. There's really nothing we can do, and that's what's so vexing about this whole situation."

Narcissa yawned and stretched. "Exactly. Then there's no use discussing it. Goodnight, Lucius."

Although Lucius was exhausted, he couldn't sleep. Staring up at the ceiling in the pitch black room, thoughts kept racing through his head until, about thirty minutes later, he said, aloud and unthinking, "But what if she's like Sarah?"

Narcissa turned over and blinked, groggy. "Who's Sarah?"

"Th-the Muggle," he said, keenly aware that him asking this question answered his previous musings of whether or not he recognized—at least on some level—that his behavior years ago was morally wrong.

Narcissa seemed more awake now. "She's your daughter, too."

"Yes, but what if the child looks like her, or has a similar personality?"

Narcissa studied him and frowned, and Lucius felt like he was on trial for the second time.

"This dalliance of yours…you told me it was based on carnal feelings, nothing more. Is that wrong?"

Lucius felt insulted. "How could you even ask such a question? You know what she is."

Narcissa raised an eyebrow. Lucius wanted to laugh; the thought of his Pureblood wife viewing a Muggle as competition was absurd. "They were called pets at the Acheron, because that's what they were. People are sometimes fond of pets, but to love one like one would a wife? It's farcical. Surely your father didn't love the Muggle women in his dungeons?"

"Hmmm. I suppose not." She shifted her position so she was now sleeping on her side. Taking the risk that it was unwanted, he rubbed her arm and felt comforted when she leaned in slightly closer. She breathed, "Then in that case, does it really matter if she looks or acts similar to the mother?"

Yes.

It was his home, damn it. He should be able to eat dinner and walk around without feeling discomforted.

"I suppose not," he lied.

"So there's nothing to concern yourself with." She turned around to look at him directly, eyes flaming with passion and sincerity of belief. "We will get through this, Lucius. Just because faux concern towards Muggles is in vogue at the moment doesn't mean it'll always be like this. The pendulum's always swinging. Remember all the Squib Rights nonsense in the sixties? The Malfoys are part of the backbone that makes up our world and always have been—everyone knows it. Our family will continue to be the ones to help chart the course and steer society in the right direction. We will not let our world sink."

Even Aphrodite couldn't have been more alluring than his wife was at that very moment. He leaned over and kissed her deeply; how stupid was he to have once doubted the decision to marry her?

They didn't stop there, and it was two hours later when both of them were ready to attempt sleeping again. Narcissa, exhausted, was the first to drift off, though Lucius—feeling considerably more lighthearted than earlier, with breezy thoughts swirling about—was close behind her. But just as he was about to drift off into slumber, a single unpleasant thought wormed its way into his mind like a bearer of plague, rotting away at all the rest until Lucius could do no more than think about it and only it. He opened his eyes and stared back up at the ceiling.

Narcissa's ship metaphor reminded him of a story Sarah told him once of a Muggle ship that was deemed unsinkable (What was it called again? The Gigantic? The Olympian?). It was a grandiose vessel carrying many passengers of wealth, class, and prestige. One night on its maiden voyage, the side of the ship collided with an iceberg, causing the unsinkable ship to flood and eventually—yes—sink. Because the makers were so assured of the strength of their ship, the crew was not trained for evacuation, and there were not enough lifeboats for everyone on board, causing over 60% of the crew to perish. The ship descended into the darkness of the ocean depths, riches and glory rendered meaningless among the fish and algae.

What was the most unexpected part, Sarah said, was the exterior damage. For many years, most of the public assumed that there needed to be a giant gash in order to bring down a ship as enormous and powerful as the Titanic (yes, that was the name). But in reality, only six thin, small, little slits were all that were needed in order to flood the compartments and bring down the unsinkable ship, claiming the lives of over a thousand passengers.

Lucius originally found the story amusing, a testament to Muggle hubris and their inability to do anything right.

But now?

Now, Lucius didn't find it amusing at all.

He spent the night wide awake, imagining a thin, small, little slip of a girl smiling as his world and everything he worked so hard to build sinks deeper and deeper and deeper into darkness.