Author's note: This chapter is quite plot-focused, and does not contain as much Margot as it contains the development of Lucius and Abraxas's relationship, but all for a good cause! We love ourselves some good father-son drama don't we? ;)

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"You may be, perhaps, the only pureblood child not excited about going to Hogwarts." her father commented once, adjusting his necktie in the mirror before going to accompany his daughter to the Hogwarts Express. He did not seem angry - he was never angry at her, but he did not seem quite happy either. It was perhaps the only thing that they have ever, and would ever disagree on.

"Can't I learn with grandpa Miki?"

"Your grandfather runs an apprenticeship system that denies wizards far above your age and station. And his wish is for the wand making business to die with him. Understand?"

He turned towards her, using his wand to adjust the ribbons on her robe to the millimetre. She nodded, however he did not seem content with her begrudging understanding, and furrowed his brows.

"Well then. I will entertain you, Claudia, just this once. Spit it out."

"I don't know anyone there."

"Draco will be there, as you very well know."

"Draco told me to pretend I don't know him." she blurted out in one go, figuring she might as well get it over with.

Her father paused for a second, raising his shoulders in a gesture Claudia was very familiar with - the same gesture he had a few days ago, after the minister of magic visited them. This matter was beneath him. Child's play. And he did not care much for it.

"There will be other children to get acquainted with. Make a friend your age, dove. You cannot be in the same circles as myself and your mother anymore, you need to build your own connections. Anything else?"

Claudia shook her head, and her father seemed satisfied this time. And indeed, as expected, Draco ignored her and jumped in the train after cordially saluting Abraxas, to reunite with Crabbe, Goyle, and whoever else he'd met and made friends with in his first year at Hogwarts. Her father had soon left, deeming the entire process to be taking up quite a lot of his time, and left her with a promise to write her a letter. Uncle Lucius and aunt Narcissa, however, seemed to hang around to catch up with other parents, and somehow, Claudia found herself in a rare occasion of talking to them without either of her parents present.

"Are you excited for your first year then, Claudia?" Narcissa smiled cordially - she always seemed a bit cold, Claudia thought, but she was never rude or standoffish, and had never been less than polite to her.

"I think so."

"Worried about your Sorting?"

"I don't know… Dad never taled much about it." she shrugged. Judging by their reactions, she figured that maybe she should be worried about it? The looks they threw at one another certainly made her worried about this Sorting.

Lucius Malfoy furrowed his brows as he looked at the girl he learnt to call a 'niece', hiding her status as his sister, and sighed deeply, before leaning in to Narcissa's ear, until his mouth was hidden in her hair.

"Father seems to be playing a bit of a game."

A game, or an experiment, rather. It was all slowly starting to make sense, why he'd never see Claudia around Diagon Alley, why his father would have her spend most of her time abroad, either with the elder Gregorovitch, or with Lucretia and Joachim Malfoy, back in France. Why the kid never knew any other wizarding kids, or spoke much about Hogwarts. Whenever they would visit her, her knowledge was vast in some magical fields, however lacked in other, more normal aspects of being a British wizarding child, which Lucius figured was due to his father's growing eccentricities in his old age.

Abraxas was probably keeping her in the dark on purpose, most likely out of a twisted experiment to see if a Malfoy by blood would still be sorted into Slytherin, without the results affecting the Malfoy line in any way. After all, it was hammered from Lucius's early childhood that the expectation was for him to be sorted into Slytherin, like his father and mother had, like his Abraxas's mother before him, like all other Malfoys by blood, ever since they came to Britain centuries ago and started to attend Hogwarts.

It was a long and proud family history.

He pursed his lips, and leaned in to reach her height, trying his best to sound friendly. What did he care for his father's little experiment? With all due respect to Narcissa's family and their own history, but to have the smallest chance of having someone that had Malfoy blood running in their veins be sorted in any house other than Slytherin… he couldn't think of a higher shame.

"Slytherin. That's the House you want to make sure you're sorted in. You're a Malfoy, and we're always sorted in Slytherin." He nodded as he spoke, and she nodded with him, seeming to understand. "You need to be careful with the friends you're making, especially in your first year. Follow Draco's lead."

"Draco said I'd embarrass him if I hang around him."

"You can avoid something and still follow them. Do you know how to do that?" He waited for her reaction, and to his surprise, she nodded with more enthusiasm than before.

Lucius furrowed his brows, looking at the little girl. With her dark hair and her surname, no one would know she was a Malfoy, and that would make Draco's time at Hogwarts easy to bear and would not cause any issues. But that did not mean that she was not a Malfoy, and if he were to learn to manoeuvre that…

"Be careful with the friends you make."

He gave her the same advice he had given Draco, and tried to force his mouth to curl upwards into a smile, before telling her she'd better get on the train.

"What do you think then?"

"Hm?"

Lucius turned towards Narcissa, putting out his arm for her to grasp as they started to make their way out of the train platform.

"Of her."

"I'm not sure… not yet. But I'm not sure what my father's plans are either."

He must have been planning something, with or regarding her.

He was always planning something, after all. Nothing his father had ever done had ever been on a whim. No, even when he had met him a few days ago, to discuss the matters of the Ministry inspections, Lucius had sensed something strange regarding his father's behaviour. Something he had never seen before, in his movements, in his tone, in every single detail about him, something which instilled a certain sense of nervousness in him.

Lucius had even gone to the Assembly Room, under the pretext of wanting to gift something to Bogdan for his wedding anniversary in person, only as a pretext to see Margot. But Margot was so madly engrossed in an orchestra preparation that she had barely looked up from a cimbalom she was playing, hitting the notes with a ferocity and speed that made the poor sod on the bass struggle to keep up with sudden changes of pace. Yet he could not talk to Margot then and there, as not only where there about two dozen other musicians around, tuning and playing themselves, but Lucius had noticed his father was lurking there as well, idly smoking his pipe as he seemed engrossed into a conversation with two foreign wizards. From afar and behind the fogs of smoke, his father seemed to be enjoying himself, and to such an extent that Lucius couldn't help but find it all strange and odd. Not wanting to entertain a conversation with his father around the jolly spirits and music, he left, without getting a chance to elucidate the mystery behind the recent changes he'd seen in Abraxas Malfoy.

Until the lid came off the cauldron, in quite an explosive manner, between the two.

In the summer of 1993, not only had Lucius lost his House Elf, had it been made known by Albus Dumbledore that he had been in possession of a diary which belonged to the Dark Lord, but his father somehow, had found out all of these developments.

"You wretch… my own son, at that." Abraxas muttered in a low tone, rapping the fingers of one hand against the knuckles of the other. "You blind fool. You rush upon me, saying left and right to whoever listens to you that I've trapped and monopolised, but when I give you free reign, you'd sooner kill your own son, the only son you have."

Lucius didn't dignify his father with an answer, and simply crossed his legs uncomfortably in his chair, feeling like he was being treated like nothing more than a schoolboy.

"What do you want me to do? Walk barefoot behind you?"

Abraxas Malfoy leaned back at his desk, and Lucius couldn't help but notice the sleeves of his robe were -oddly for a man like his father- unfashionably long, reminiscent of a style of thirty years ago. Alas, this was not the time for focusing on that. Yet Lucius was reminded of being chastised as a young boy, in that same study, in that same chair, and Abraxas's tone was dangerously close to how it had been more than twenty years ago, which Lucius decided to bring to his father's attention.

"I think you must be forgetting you are not talking to your daughter, who's still mistaking her left shoe for her right."

"Unfortunately I am, in fact, realising that I am talking to my son, who is still following the orders of a dead man."

"Why, I don't know what you must be referring to, father."

His father mocked a chuckle, as his icy gaze scrutinised Lucius's face, before waving his hand. Two glasses and a decanter appeared on the desk, and his father invited him for a drink. Lucius furrowed his brow, not having witnessed such a gesture from him before, and he expected it to be a test, before realising his father would not relent until he'd had a drink.

"A man to be trusted is a man that accepts hospitality, when offered. That is something Tom Riddle did not understand. That my own son is only sometimes to be trusted, is something I learnt to live with."

"I've never heard you talk about the Dark Lord before." Lucius said, surprised.

His father shrugged.

"I did not care for it, at the time." he said, as if it was all beneath him. "What I care for, is that without knowing what that diary held - don't say you do, because you never did, did you, Lucius?" He paused, and waited for a reaction that never came, as Lucius remained stone-faced, hiding his grimaces beneath sips of his drinks. Yet his father still correctly guessed, much to his chagrin. "You were too afraid to write in it, because you knew whose it was, unlike the Weasley girl. And you, my dear wretch of a son, without knowing what that diary held, you sent it to Hogwarts on the same train as Draco, when I had specifically ensured, before Tom Riddle's death, that whatever you had accepted to do for him would have had nothing to do with your at the time unborn son, as he had intended at first. Do you understand?"

Lucius froze.

"I never knew that." he spoke, his voice quiet.

He placed his glass back on the desk, tapping his fingers against the carved wood as he pondered his father's words. He wondered if it were true, if the Dark Lord had intended for Draco to have been in the place of - no, surely not. Yet unlike Ginevra Weasley, Draco would have been a pureblood, non-traitorous host, and whilst he knew he was supposed to consider this one of the highest honours, such as surely, Bellatrix would have, that could have also meant potentially losing his son, perhaps even in a manner as gruesome as he had heard Quirinnius Quirrell had had.

Yet there was no reason to dwell on such details now. What happened, happened, and slowly, his usual perfidious smile returned.

"You need not worry about Draco, father. Worry about your other child. After all, the Basilisk's attacks were directed not at a single Slytherin, as you've probably heard… And Claudia may be a Slytherin, thanks in no part to you, but Draco did tell me she was this close to befriend the Weasleys, of all wizarding families. Luckily, he was there to avert such a shame brought upon us."

"So I've read."

"I do not know what you plan with this daughter of yours."

"No one does." Abraxas chuckled once again, yet this time his reaction was reflected in his eyes. "I wonder why I've even taken to raising her in the manner I've done. After all, I will not live enough to see any results, not like I've lived to see you, with your own son. Lest Riddle has given you yet another object to make a sacrificial lamb out of him after I die."

"May I ask what brings about this sudden talk of death?"

Lucius's vexation was met with an answer regarding his father's long sleeves, as Abraxas pulled one to uncover his wrist, and show an inner wrist visibly damaged by Dragon Pox.

"This has been before I managed to catch it and take some potions to hide its effects on the exterior. On the inside, however, it will start to wreak havoc at some point, no matter how much it can be delayed with the latest research."

He spoke calmly, as if he were a Healer himself giving a diagnosis, not a victim of the fatal disease. There was not a single tremor in his hands as he buttoned the sleeve of his robe back, and not a single quiver in his voice as he spoke of his upcoming death, letting Lucius know that he had been officially diagnosed a good thirteen months ago, and the main Healers at St. Mungo's dealing with his case are giving him another thirteen or so.

"Does Margot know?"

"Why, of course she does. Say, have you heard her sing recently?"

"I have better things to do than spend my days at the Assembly."

"Better so, because for all these months Margot's voice hasn't rung in the Assembly."

"Surely, she must have expected your death, unless she's as daft as I thought her to be to marry a man your age."

Abraxas paused for a second, and cocked an eyebrow towards his son.

"I wish at times she would be, because it would make the idea of dying easier. Nonetheless, I am embracing my imminent demise with open arms."

Lucius pursed his lips, unsure what to do. What could he even say to a man who appeared at terms with his own death? He thought about his mother, his grandmother, he thought about Narcissa's father dying - Cygnus's death was very much expected, considering the state of his recent health, and the effect Bella's imprisonment had on him, yet its news still affected Narcissa tremendously. What would happen when his father dies? How would he react? How was it even proper to mourn?

"How did you react, when you found out your father disappeared?"

It was for the first time that a question of Lucius's had left Abraxas at a loss for words. His brows furrowed as he appeared at first vexed, almost as if he had not understood correctly what he had heard, then lost in thought, for such a long time that Lucius had enough time to wonder if one of the effects of Dragon Pox was sudden deafness and muteness. Slowly, he leaned across the desk, his elbows against it as he rested his chin against his hand.

"It's quite difficult, that. After all, a disappearance is not death - of course, at this point it's as good as." His father paused, and his lips thinned as they tried to hold something away, ensuring his thoughts would remain unvoiced. "Lucius."

It was Lucius's turn to pause now, surprised by his father's calm tone. He wondered when he had last heard his father address him in such a tone, and he could only barely, briefly, remember a short-lived instance after the death of Cladiua Malfoy, his grandmother, when they were in France, at Lucretia Malfoy's table, casually discussing Lucius's scores in his NEWT exams. There was something about death that brings this family together, he thought amused, yet decided not to share this with Abraxas, and instead addressed him back.

"Yes, father?"

"I have written some… details regarding the family for you, some aspects that I think you should be aware of after my passing. Whether you want to read them, or will wish to burn them and have them forever unread, will be your choice, naturally."

"Naturally."

Lucius felt a pit in his stomach as he looked at his father, unsure of what to say. So he decided, instead, to focus on the practicalities of his father's illness.

"Is there anything I can do then, regarding… well, your imminent death? I assume that as you must have paid the salaries of about half the staff at St. Mungo's at this point, that you must be receiving nothing short of the best."

"Your care warms my dying heart." his father laughed.

His father had not mentioned much more. He had not mentioned, for example, that as is custom for patients of Dragon Pox, he had put in an order at St. Mungo's for a potion to end his suffering, whenever he would see fit. Despite Lucius being his only son, his only living blood relative of age in Britain, he was not made co-signatory of the 'Mori in Valetudo' or 'Dying with Health', a protocol that allowed Dragon Pox patients to obtain a fast-acting poison that would allow them to die on their own terms, before the disease could take full hold of their body.

Margot had been made co-signatory and the only person who could request and pick up the potion.

Yet, as Lucius would learn a few months from her in a letter peppered with ink splotches, written in a hurry, very much unlike the style in which she had ever sent anything, she had apparently been refused the prescription for some reason or another - and thus, his father had implicitly been refused his Mori in Valetudo.

At once, he requested a meeting with the presiding Healer at St. Mungo's. However, he just as soon decided he could not wait for any approvals for his request, and he did not need any, in fact, considering what was at stake.

His father had to die with dignity, even if Lucius himself had to see to it. After Draco's accident at Hogwarts, after he was removed from the board of governors, there was no chance to allow anything to tarnish the family name further. And the sooner his father would die, the sooner Margot Gregorovitch could be removed as a Malfoy.

"Professor Greyburr. Mr. Malfoy is-"

"We have an appointment, Professor Greyburr."

Greyburr's receptionist had barely managed to open the door, that somehow Lucius Malfoy had managed to slither inside, and close the door behind the poor witch. With a swift movement of the wand, he locked the door behind himself, stepping towards his desk. Greyburr took a seat back, fiddling with his moustache, and invited him to sit on a chair at the desk.

"My dear Mr. Malfoy…"

"If you could go straight to the subject, professor."

"You have asked to know why a vial of a very potent poison for the sake of your father, Abraxas Malfoy, could not be delivered tomorrow, as first requested by his wife… Could I please clarify why it is you that is soliciting this information?"

"I believe this is a private matter."

"Regardless…"Greyburr tapped his fingers against the desk, and waved off his concern. "Our director is away on some matters relating to a symposium and an award he's receiving. Which will take him away for a few good weeks, and leaves me responsible for the hospital."

"My sincerest congratulations."

Greyburr looked over towards the young Malfoy from his thick eyebrows. Lucius had still not taken the offered seat, and was standing straight, lightly tapping against his cane against the wooden floor.

"I am afraid that we will have to cancel the order for the poison, or rather… delay it. Indefinitely."

"Greyburr…" Lucius Malfoy cleared his throat, taking a few steps towards his desk. "Now, why would you do that?"

"Ever since Margarita Malfoy requested the poison, we have had a look over the case again, due to several aspects regarding the co-signatory. It is the opinion of some very good Healers that consulted the patient over the past few days that Abraxas Malfoy-"

"Which is to say, and from what I gathered from my father's wife, in the director's absence, you have personally created a commission to consult on his deteriorating condition and refuse him the 'Mori in Valetudo'." he interrupted him with a short and mocking laugh, tapping his cane faster against the floor. His grin slowly dissolved into a scowl as he leaned in on Greyburr's desk, hot anger pouring from his calm voice. "I don't care for the opinion of neither you nor your Healers. This is my father, and in this matter I'll do what I want, not what you want."

Lucius Malfoy stared at Greyburr with a look resembling Abraxas to the smallest detail, the crumbs of a bitter smile re-appearing at the edge of his lip.

"You're all disgraceful thieves, that's what you are. You accepted all of our money and donations for these past thirty years without even a whiff of complaint."

"Mr. Malfoy, you cannot-"

"Oh, shut it. Since you can't even do the job you are paid for."

Lucius did not address Greyburr a single word more, deciding instead to use his wand to unlock the door and take his leave.

He took a moment to collect himself, gathering his thoughts, before deciding on sending two letters. One, to ask for a meeting with , and he could not believe himself even as he wrote and sent the letter, Margot. The other, to ask for a favour from Severus Snape.