Chapter Text
It was a gloomy, cold day in June when Draco Lucius Malfoy was born. Screaming and crying, he was brought into a world of chaos and turmoil. Narcissa said that he was like a blessing, his newborn face a beam of light in the darkness of war.
Of course, Lucius did not have the chance to see it. While his wife was in labour in their Manor, he was away in Scotland, torturing a family of blood traitors.
The muggle mother was already dead, and the six year old child was shreiking in between sobs as Lucius cast the Cruciatus curse on his father.
When he broke pause, the man broke through in a few strangled gasps to speak.
"Don't you have a heart?" he choked, sprawled out on thr floor and bleeding from the inside. "A family?"
Lucius normally would have stepped on his throat and ended it there, but something had stopped him. He didn't know that his own son was being birthed that moment, but perhaps that unconscious knowledge was what prompted him to spare the blood traitor.
"Yes," he snarled, peering down at the man like he was covered in scum. "Why?"
The child screamed as another Death Eater clamped its mouth shut. Tears streamed down the father's face as he listened, but could do nothing. By now, he was incapacitated from the pain of the curse.
"Then how can you live with this?" he sobbed, blood now trickling from his mouth. "Why do you want your child to live in a world where they could be subject to this kind of hate?"
Lucius spat on the man. "My son will never spoil his bed with a Mudblood."
The man coughed, or perhaps it was laughter. His eyes were slowly glazing over, but he opened his mouth to speak.
"I-it doesn't matter. No matter which side wins, you'll lose. Your son will be born into hate."
Lucius crouched down closer to the man, making a show of pressing his wand into his throat.
"What do you mean, I will lose?" he demanded, speaking slowly and carefully. He didn't know why he was listening to such drivel, but he knew he didn't want to lose. For himself and his son.
"Voldemort doesn't care about you," the man answerd, his voice hoarser and growing faint. "If he wins, you and your son and your wife will be his play things. You will mean nothing to him."
Despite his tough situation, the man was still smiling. As if there actually were light at the end of the tunnel.
Lucius pressed the wand harder into the man's neck. "Do you even know who I am?" He hissed. He cast a curse that would blind the wretched man with pain. He watched with satisfaction as more blood dripped from the man's mouth.
"Y-yes," the man grunted, to Lucius' surprise, through the convulsions of his writhing body. He was beginning to reek of burnt hair. "You're a Death Eater. And when the Light wins, you will be a criminal."
Lucius didn't know what to say. The man wasn't wrong. He cancelled the curse, waiting silently for the man to continue.
"Your son will be a criminal. And neither of you will... will..." He trailed off and took a deep, shuddering breath, and he finally stilled.
The man was certainly dead, but his words echoed around in Lucius' ears like a ghost. They did not escape him, even when he returned to report to the Dark Lord.
They did not escape him when he returned to his now four-hour-old son. He cradled the fragile figure in his arms, fearing for the small human's future.
We will what?
Lucius couldn't sleep after that, and it wasn't because of the crying baby--that was what servants and muffling charms were for.
No, he was still haunted by the words of the blood traitor. What if his decisions and his alliances would eventually harm his son? That fragile, darling, screeching bag of flesh that would one day be his legacy.
And what legacy could Lucius pass on? Money and land, of course... But also a position as a servant to the Dark Lord. Is that what he wanted?
For his son to be a servant?
But what could he do about it? There was nothing. He could not betray his Lord; it would mean death. Being ostracized by the Light, if they should win, was the least of his problems. He tried not to think about it.... They just couldn't win.
Or so he thought, until over one year and one month later, when five Death Eaters were killed, and two more had been tortured by Voldemort himself because they were "boring" him.
The tides were tides were turning. Lucius saw how little he, as a follower, was valued by his Lord. He saw how easily he could be simply cast aside. Was that what he wanted for Draco?
His wife knew before he did.
"What is the matter, Lucius?" she asked him one evening, as they were going to bed. "You have hardly slept, and when you are home, you seem at unease. Is it the baby?"
He cursed himself for letting his discomfort slip. What if one of his comrades had noticed?
But of course they hadn't. They were not his wife.
"Yes and no, my dearest," he replied at last. "I worry for our son. What kind of world is he being born into?"
She gave him a cautious glance. Surely, she knew what she meant... Or perhaps she hoped he meant what he did.
"What do you mean, my love?" she inquired softly, innocently. "It is the same world."
Irony laced her voice. He would have to be direct.
"No, Narcissa," he sighed, loathe to admit his thoughts, "it is not. This is a world ruled by... by Voldemort." He shuddered at the word, at the implications of his thoughts. Did he really mean them?
"I thought you believed that to be good," she said quietly, an eyebrow raising inquisitively. Quieter, in a breath against his ear so as not to be overheard by others, she added, "Has your mind changed?"
More chills traveled down his spine. Dare he say it?
"Yes," he whispered, shutting his eyes. "I am fearful."
She pulled herself away, sitting up. "Then do something," she insisted urgently, her light eyes sparkling with fear and anticipation.
"But what can I do?" he countered, just as fervently, just as nervously. "Is this Mark on my arm not a binding contract? Have my actions not sealed my fate?"
She scowled at him, her elegant face spoiled by the motion. He hoped that she would never have to scowl again... She looked so much better with a free face, a happy one.
"It does not matter, Lucius," she snapped. "You must not be a coward."
He flinched, taken aback. Such vulnerable displays were only acceptable in the bedroom, with Narcissa alone.
"You think me a coward?" he questioned softly, reaching out to touch her sweet face and soft golden hair.
She smacked his hand away, and he flinched in surprise.
"If you are afraid for any reason, and you refuse to confront the problem, you are a coward," she told him curtly, lying back down and facing away from him.
He lie down as well, tucking his hands behind his head to stare at the ceiling in the dark. All he could feel was the slick silk of the sheets and the warmth of the body beside him, and the building sense of doom and purpose within him.
"Then how do I address the issue?" he begged her. "How do I remedy my cowardice?" He longed to reach out and touch her, to be comforted by her.
She did not stir, but her silence was answer enough.
"Fine, then. I will make the visit tomorrow morning."
Disgust and revulsion gathered in Lucius' throat as he approached the household. The household of a mudblood and her blood traitor husband.
But it had to be done. For his son.
He clung to the shadows at first, knowing he would not be welcome. He had learned the location of the Potter household from Peter Pettigrew--a coward if there ever was one, going to serve the Dark Lord out of petty revenge. He was no friend to any of them.
He was not surprised when he saw Dumbledore Apparate to their doorstep. He was immediately ushered into the house by the mudblood Lily Potter.
Lucius waited a few moments more before stepping out into the open.
Immediately, several wards went off, and he was bombarded with triggered spells and explosions. He dodged each one, until at last they ceased. He dropped to his knees and sheltered his head, realizing too late that he was practically bowing.
Another hex shot at him, landing just behind him. Two more shot at him, one landing straight in his gut. It was a stunning spell, thankfully, and nothing more.
He crumpled to the ground, and James Potter rushed out of the house, Dumbledore chasing after him.
"What are you doing here?" Potter demanded, brazen as ever. "How many more are there?" His voice was shaking like a mad man, a scared man.
Lucius did not raise his head. He was preparing to speak when Dumbledore interrupted.
"James! Go back inside to your wife!" he ordered, not taking his eyes off of Lucius. "I will deal with this."
It was then that Lucius looked up, feeling defeated and more cowardly than ever. Why had he subjected himself to this?
"What do you want, Lucius?" Dumblrdore asked slowly. "You have come alone."
"I have come for help," he replied quietly, realizing how broken, how weak he sounded as he said it, staring up at the Headmaster.
The old man gave no response. Lucius decided he would have to elaborate, then. To further humiliate himself.
"I wish to revoke my place as a Death Eater," he said through clenched teeth. "To secure my future."
It felt wrong. He was admitting mistake, admitting he had chosen the wrong side.
Dumbledore, ever the soft soul, took a moment to consider his words all the same. As if he weren't laughing, judging, thinking I told you so.
"I shall take you inside, but you will be bound. And questioned under Veritaserum."
Lucius nodded, accepting his fate.
"So it shall be," he whispered, and tensed as the ropes came from Dumbledore's wand and tied his wrists and ankles. To further the humiliation, Dumbledore cast Levicorpus and floated him into the house.
"What is this?" Potter demanded, once Lucius had been brought inside and deposited on a chair. "We're just letting them all in now?"
Them, of course, being Death Eaters. What else should Potter have expected?
Lucius scoffed at him. "I am bound hand and foot, Potter," he pointed out with a snarl. "I would hardly call this a warm welcome." He made a show of flexing against the ropes, proving he could not escape.
Potter raised his wand, fear and rage burning in his eyes.
"Shut up!" he cried, stumbling backwards. "You're a monster!"
Lucius felt a pang of regret. How sad that he had thought he could have been allies with these people. They were truly blind.
"He has come to redeem himself," Dumbledore told Potter firmly, placing a hand on his shoulder and forcing him to sit down. "We cannot turn down a man willing to repent."
Lucius was going to object, and protest that he had said nothing about repenting...
But perhaps he had, more or less.
"Allow me to speak, Potter," he insisted, false graciousness lacing his words. "I'm not here to harm you."
Potter grimaced. "Let's see if you sing the same tune under Veritaserum," he growled, crossing his arms and glaring.
Dumbledore pulled a clear vial from his pocket, and ordered Lucius to open his mouth. Four drops hit his tongue, and he immediately felt the effects.
"What is your name?" Dumbledore asked him.
"Lucius Abraxas Malfoy."
"Are there any others with you?" Potter demanded.
"I come alone."
"And why are you here?" Dumbledore asked.
Lucius nearly choked, but the words came out all the same.
"To save my son."
Potter's eyebrows shot up. "What the hell do you mean by that?"
Lucius felt disinclined to tell, as he was disliking Potter more and more by the minute, but his tongue was loose now and could not be stopped.
"I cannot allow my son to be the servant of the Dark Lord, nor can I allow him to suffer punishment for my deeds should your side win," he whispered, hating that he had admitted this. But he had to.
Before he could stop himself, he added, "I wish to fight for your side."
Potter coughed as if he had choked on something. "I'm sorry. You what?"
Lucius sighed internally. He would have to say it again.
"I do not wish to remain a Death Eater. I will take to the Light," he elaborated, speaking slowly.
Potter blinked. "No." He looked terribly stupid, frozen by doubt.
There was a gasp, and the red-haired mudblood Potter came into the room.
"James!" she exclaimed, glaring at him in a scolding manner. Would she defend Lucius?
Potter stood up. "We can't trust him, Lil! He's a Death Eater," he protested, pointing at Lucius as if the picture of his presence was proof enough.
The Potter woman crossed her arms. "A Death Eater under Veritaserum!" she retorted, having stated the obvious. "He can't lie to us, James. I think he's being honest."
Potter gaped and stuttered like a goldfish.
"B-but... He could have been trained to overpower it!"
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Enough, James," he commanded. "I agree with Lily. I believe Lucius is not lying to us."
"But--"
Lilly Potter cut him off. "People change for their children, James." She spoke softly, something in her eyes that said she spoke from experience.
It was then that Lucius noticed the woman was carrying a child. Of course he knew that she had one... The Dark Lord had been making plans regarding the child. Because of the prophecy.
The Veritaserum, for some reason, forced him to say this aloud.
"The Dark Lord will come for your child. He knows this house," he informed them, breaking the silence.
"Cleary," Dumbledore agreed calmly, "as you are here right now."
Potter scowled, but he looked terrified. "Who told him where we live? Snape?" he demanded, eyes wide open.
"James!" his wife interjected. "He doesn't even know!"
"Peter Pettigrew," Lucius said cooly, ignoring them. "Is he not your secret keeper?"
The three exchanged horrified glances, and all made exclamations of objection.
"We just made the switch!"
"We trusted him! He's our friend!"
"Not Peter!"
Lucius shook his head. "Pettigrew has betrayed you. The Dark Lord comes to kill you and your child. I know not when."
"Why didn't Snape tell us?" Potter spluttered. His wife, concerned and growing pale, moved to sit down with him.
"The Dark Lord does not trust him." Lucius clenched his teeth. "And now, he will not trust me, either."
"You have risked much in telling us this," Dumbledore commended him, sounding not altogether honest.
"In the hopes that it will benefit my son and myself," he replied stiffly.
"What can we do for you?" Lilly Potter asked him softly, staring with green eyes full of sympathy. The child in her arms hiccuped, oblivious to the dark news being discussed around him.
"Protect my family," Lucius said earnestly. "Find us a place where Voldemort will not seek us out until he is vanquished. Protect our name when the war is over. In return, I will tell you everything."
Potter set his jaw and glared.
"Tell us everything, then, Malfoy."
And so Lucius complied. It was better than begging.
He told them everything he knew regarding Voldemort. He warned them as well as he could, sharingwitg them all of his Lord's plans that he knew of. But, in the end, it was not enough to save the Potters.
The next day, Dumbledore came to Malfoy Manor bearing dark news. Just hours after Lucius left, Voldemort came and killed Lilly and James Potter, the boy having defeated the Dark Lord. A mere babe.
But, the testimony was enough to save his family. Dumbledore assured him that Lucius would be cleared of his crimes, and would be offered full legal protection. His information had allowed them to apprehend Peter Pettigrew, and prevent Sirius Black from a life in Azkaban.
Narcissa had asked what would become of the Potter boy.
"He has blood relatives to offer him protection," Dumbledore explained, "but they are Muggles, and they will not take him in. The boy will stay with his godfather, Sirius Black."
Narcissa laughed at that. "My cousin? Raising a child? He can hardly take care of himself." She shook her head as if she could hardly believe it to be true.
Dumbledore only smiled. "He will have help, rest assured," he said solemnly. "But that is not your concern."
Lucius had thought that was the end of the conversation. He had hoped he would get off easy; he couldn't believe his luck, or his timing. So little work on his part, and yet he had achieved all his goals. Had he been one day later, his confession would have been useless.
But it was not so. There was more he had to do. Dumbledore had a contract for him.
Lucius and his wife, in order to remain in good graces and pay fir their crimes, would have to change many things.
They would revoke their Dark Artifacts, and refrain from all Dark Arts.
They could not maim, kill, or torture anyone.
They would perform regular acts of public service, or charitable donations.
Lucius would work at the Ministry, so they could keep a close eye on him.
And, worst of all, they would refrain from "hateful words or actions" towards mudbloods.
It was a small price to pay, however, for the safety and benefit of his son. He would grow up in a safer world. And it wouldn't hurt that Lucius would work for the Ministry--he had always wanted to go inti politics.
And the contract was not so binding. Who was Dumbledore to know if they slipped up once or twice or more?
They both signed the contract, knowing that they were left much better off doing so than if they hadn't.