The Slytherin Redemption: Now Complete

I forgot to state that the last two chapers, and chapter 13 were beta'ed by Drusilla of Perfect Imagination.

The second portion of the chapter is a one shot. It is from Lucius' perspective only.


Salvation

Chapter 13

Narcissa sat in the small room afforded to prisoners when they needed to meet privately with solicitors. The warden had given her special permission to meet with her husband to discuss important matters. Narcissa smiled at the method of payment the man had expected for her little request. Her jaws had been deliciously sore for two days afterwards. It had been nice to be with a man after so many years.

Lucius was to be brought in soon. She flexed her fingers, the only outward sign of her nervousness. Once finished with that activity, she arranged herself in the most demur pose possible. She listened for the clanking of the charmed chains that always heralded a male prisoner's entrance. She did not have to wait long.

Lucius had not changed from the last dozen or so times she had glimpsed him in the past months. He was still haggard, old, poor and powerless. She kept her face still so that she might not betray the distaste he evoked in her now. She waited patiently while the guard settled the situation with Lucius' confinement and then left.

Lucius' eyes swept her, and she noted the kindling of long banked desires in them. Thank the gods prisoners were not allowed physical contact. Narcissa might swoon if he touched her with his dirty ragged-nailed, hands.

“Cissy,” he whispered, a sure sign he was aroused. “It has truly been too long. You look lovely.”

“I try, Lucius,” she replied, with a smirk. “So, did you set the boy on the correct path today?”

The wizard sighed gustily. “Cissy, darling, is that all you have to say to me after so many years apart?”

“No, dear, but what I have to say can wait.” The witch arched her sculpted eyebrow. “Well, did you or did you not stop our son from delving where he shouldn't?”

“He's no longer a child. I think it's time you realise that, Narcissa,” Lucius countered. “He might do well to understand the sacrifices we made for him.”

“You made them for him, not I. I had already made that odious traitor Snape take an Unbreakable Vow to protect our son.” Narcissa scoffed. “You were the one to undermine the Dark Lord's position with all your plans to save filth.”

Narcissa's calm mask slipped as Lucius said in a dangerous drawl, “You were the one that insisted I return to the fold, even after your disgust at his actions the night he was brought back. I would have had us leave the country, and saved us all time in Azkaban.”

“You were a traitor to our cause, just as Snape was,” she replied in a slightly raised tone. She felt outraged at his duplicity. Her whole life she had been raised to believe that pure-bloods were superior. Her faith had been shaken upon learning that both Severus Snape, a man whom she had welcomed in her home, and the Dark Lord, whom she and her sister had followed fanatically, were both half-bloods. It was almost as bad as sharing a table with a Mud-blood. She shivered, thinking of the offal her son had slept with to get his heir, knowing that Lucius tacitly approved. She had tried to accept the little half-blood, but saw the mud coming out of his pores, and could not stand the thought of his touch.

And to think, Lucius had let that thing hug him. Disgusting.

Lucius laughed aloud, the sound angry in the small room. “Oh, yes, and you were right there behind me when it came to sparing Potter. Or am I mistaken in the belief that you were the one that told our fearless leader that The Boy Who Lived was indeed dead, in exchange for information on Draco's well-being?”

“Only after you and Snape ruined things.” Narcissa stood abruptly in outrage, goaded past all thoughts of proper decorum. “I want a divorce.”

Lucius laughed louder; the sound was tinged with hysteria. “Never.”

“I've already filed.” She drew legal papers out of her robes, delighting in the dawning look of pain and horror on her husband's face. “You are being sued on grounds of cruelty. Whom do you think the courts will believe? You? Hardly.”

“By the gods, I wish I had beaten you more than once,” Lucius spat, and before she could react, he had his hands around her throat crushing the air out of her. Her lungs began to burn and she frantically clawed at his hands as he squeezed tighter. He lowered his face to hers, his lips scant millimetres from her ear. “You faithless bitch.”

&*&*&

Drake came back to the kitchen, a look of suppressed joy on his face. “That was my Aunt Andromeda. She's asked us to Christmas dinner.”

Liz masked her disappointment; they always spent Christmas together, the four of them and her Mum. She knew it was selfish, feeling that way; Drake really did not have a family that was not locked away. Liz began dishing the food into a bowl and set it on the table, already laid for dinner. She turned to the rice in the steamer, her hands trembling as she moved the container to the table. “That's grand, Drake. I hope you have fun.”

She felt his hands encircle her waist, his lips near her neck, sending chills down her spine. “Don't be silly, kid. She's invited us all. I told her about your mum's Christmas pudding, and she's keen to try it. It wouldn't be Christmas if we weren't together as a family.”

A tight knot formed in her chest, a mixture of happiness at his words, and fear at the idea of change. Christmas with his family might not be so wonderful, she thought, from what she had seen of the sad woman at the train station. “Let's eat, and we'll discuss it later.”

Draco collected his son from in front of the TV and returned, his eyes alight with excitement. “Come on, Liz, it”ll be fun. You'll get to see a real wizarding family Yule. It won't be as grand as the ones we used to have at the Manor, but you'll love it.”

“I'll ask mum tomorrow, and maybe you could send an owl to Toby for me.” Liz dipped a small portion of the rice and stir-fry onto Scorpius' plate. The boy grimaced at the amount of green he had to eat, but tucked in anyway. “I wish you bloody wizards would just find a way to use the internet. I can't stand those bleedin' birds.”

&*&*&

Teddy crowed triumphantly as he relayed his success at his part of The Plan. “Grandmum said she'd invited your mum and uncle tonight. I just got her owl.”

Toby stretched in the seat he always assumed in the unused classroom the quartet had appropriated as their war-room. He looked to Rose, the resident whiz at Charms. “So, have you figured out how Victoire's grandmum Charms the mistletoe?”

“Of course,” Rose smirked, conveying her supreme confidence in her considerable abilities. “But I think we should test it first.”

Toby blushed and began walking towards her, his lips puckered. He really did not want his first real kiss to be like this, but he could live with it, if it meant kissing Rose.

“Not on me, you dolt.” She retreated, red-faced.

Victoire snorted unbecomingly, the sound at odds with her beautiful exterior. “I must say you do catch on quickly, Tobe.”

“Shut it, Weasley, or I'll hold it over your head so you can snog Teddy,” Rose retorted, jerking her head towards the older boy. Teddy's hair turned bright red and he harrumphed loudly.

“Let's hang this sprig someplace that has a lot of traffic,” suggested Teddy, after an uncomfortable moment. “We can see if it works that way.”

&*&*&

They decided on hanging the Charmed mistletoe in a moderately used corridor outside the Library. The four took turns watching as several students were caught under its enchantment. Most got away lightly, with a peck on the cheek releasing them from its hold. Rose had included a Charm that increased the power of the compulsion, according to the attraction the couple felt for one another. It had worked well, so far.

After the third hour, just before curfew, Toby had been sent to retrieve it. Madam Abbott had been walking down the corridor as he approached when Professor Longbottom was pulled toward her. Toby hid behind a statue of Melanie the Moderate, and watched as the two kissed, a little sickened by the action.

Madam Abbott attempted to break away from the heavy snogging that Professor Longbottom was giving her, but every time she did, she was drawn back by the Charm. Professor Longbottom's hands were all over her, then suddenly articles of clothing were on the floor, and someone moaned.

Toby had seen enough. The others would just have to come back for it later. The boy started to flee, really not wanting to see his Professor and the Librarian like that at all, when he felt a hand fall firmly on his shoulder.

Toby looked up into Professor Zabini's stern countenanced face. He waved his wand, releasing the couple from the Compulsion Charm and drew Toby back behind the statue, until the red-faced adults gathered their wits and departed.

When the corridor was empty, the Head of Slytherin dragged Toby out by his robe's collar and down two floors to his office. He slammed the door as he ordered the boy to sit. Toby had never seen him so angry before

Professor Zabini turned his back on Toby for a long moment, before sitting behind his desk, his face still drawn in lines of anger. Toby squirmed under the scrutiny he received, moving his lips over his teeth nervously. He was really in for it now; maybe he would even be expelled. Panic gripped his guts and he felt a little sick. Mum and Uncle Drake would be so angry with him, and he would never be a proper wizard. He felt tears prickle at his eyes, and his nose became stuffy.

“I take it you and your friends were the authors of that little prank?” Professor Zabini's rough voice finally sounded.

Toby said softly, “Just me, sir. I'm the one who did it.”

The Professor looked angrier at his admission. His jaw muscles worked for a moment, before his eyes narrowed. “Don't lie to me, boy. As your Head of House, I am well aware of your abilities in Charms. You don't have the skill to pull off the Compulsion Charm required for that... abomination.”

“No, sir, it was just me, really.” Toby would not let his friends get into trouble simply because they had decided to help him get his mum and Uncle Drake together. He knew the Professor was unconvinced.

“Do you realise the harm you have caused with your little prank?” the older man snapped as he rubbed his jaw with his hand. “Professor Longbotttom and Madam Abbott have never done anything untoward to you, and you caught them very neatly. If they had been caught... they might both have been fired.”

Remembering the odd sounds he heard from the couple, Toby asked, “Sir, are Professor Longbottom and Madam Abbott all right? I heard someone moan and we really didn't put anything in the Charm to hurt anyone, just make them kiss, Honest.”

“Stay here,” The Professor scowled, leaning forward, menacingly. Toby drew back further in his seat. “If you leave my office, you will regret it.”

&*&*&

Draco was literally aching with need. Liz was sprawled over him on the couch, her face flushed and lips bruised from his attentions. Her hand ran over his bare chest and he revelled in the feeling as she roughed up the sparse, gold hair and lightly grazed the scar from Potter's attack during sixth year. He kissed her again, rubbing against her in his ardour before he drew away. “Jesus, Liz. I never knew you were so... ”

She drew her jumper over her head, and dropped the discarded garment to the floor. He watched hungrily as her nipples peaked against the silk of her bra, still moist from his attentions. He lifted his head to her again, nipping her lips before he entered her mouth, taking her tongue with his. She straddled him, and with a moaning sigh, said, “Christ. Drake, we've got to stop, before... I want you, so badly.”

At that precise moment, he could not think of a reason why he did not have her in his bed, shagging them both to insensibility. Between heated kisses, she gave him his answer. “We have to wait until after the Yule Ball, then I'll be yours.”

“Damn Longbottom,” he growled, as he eased her off his lap. “You're mine now.”

She laughed as she scooped her jumper from the floor. “Maybe. The light in the forest is definitely brighter, almost daylight.”

“Trees be damned. After that ball...,” he growled. She stood up, straightening her short skirt. He followed the curve of her bottom with his eyes appreciatively, catching a glimpse of a tattoo he had not seen before, high on her thigh. A dragon, how intriguing. He ran his hand over the spot, his nostrils flaring as he caught her musky scent. “It's late. Stay here, I'll sleep on the couch.”

She turned her warm, brown eyes to him, “No.”

“I'll ward the bedroom door, so that only you can open it,” he offered, standing. “And I'll give you my wand.”

She kissed his nose. “When I do stay the night, it won't be to sleep.”

She took a handful of Floo Powder and said her address, before she sneezed and stepped through the green flames. Draco was suddenly glad the Ministry had allowed them to establish a connection for her. He did not like the idea of her out on the streets alone at night.

He doused the lights with a flick of his wand, and went to the bathroom to take a long cold shower.

&*&*&

Professor Zabini returned to the room with Teddy, Victoire, Rose and a very irate Professor Lepidus. Professor Zabini glared at all four of them before he barked, “I am extremely disappointed in each and every one of you. We will stay here until I receive satisfactory answer about your irresponsible actions.”

Victoire began, her lip trembling slightly. “Sir, it wasn't Toby's fault. It was my idea. You see, my grandmum always Charms mistletoe so that you can't leave until someone kisses you.”

“And I was the one who charmed it. I read about most of the Compulsion Charms in the Restricted Section.” Rose mumbled, looking down at her feet. A tear dripped from her nose.

Teddy admitted, his face white, “It was me that suggested we test it before we use it.”

Zabini rasped, “Why were you testing it? Were you going to deploy it around the castle to wreak havoc? Cowell, I await your answer.”

Professor Lepidus held up his hand in a quelling gesture and the Slytherin Head fell to silence, but glared at Toby balefully. “Professor, if I may?”

Zabini nodded tensely as the Headmaster bent to Toby's level. His brown eyes warmed as he spoke to Toby, “Mr. Cowell, what were you planning to do with the mistletoe?”

“Sir, it's private.” Toby could not meet the older wizard's kind eyes.

Rose whispered harshly, “Tell him, Tobe.”

“Yes, Mr. Cowell, do tell,” Zabini said, his glare harsher.

Toby looked up and took a deep breath, “I-wanted-to-make-my-mum-and-uncle-fall-in-love.”

The two adults fell silent. Finally, Professor Zabini asked, “I didn't catch that. You said...?”

“Teddy was going to put it up at his house, so that when we came for Christmas dinner, Uncle Drake would kiss my mum, and they would fall in love.” Toby felt the tears start to flow down his face, and dashed them away angrily.

He heard a choked sound come from his head of House. Toby continued, “I know it was a stupid idea, but I thought, if I had a real dad, no one would pick on me anymore. We really weren't trying to hurt anybody, especially not Professor Longbottom and Madam Abbott.”

“I see,” said Professor Zabini finally. Toby glanced up and saw the man looking at him thoughtfully. “Very well, I have received my answer. Tomorrow, you four will report for detention to Professor Flitwick. He will instruct you in proper research methods. After that, you will each present yourselves to Professor Longbottom and Madam Abbott with written apologies and explanations for your actions. Mr. Cowell, I would like a word with you before you retire. The rest of you, go straight to your dorms, you have a long day ahead of you.”

Toby watched the others leave. Professor Zabini bade him to sit, then summoned tea. He sat again, looking sadly out the window of his office into the darkness. He finally poured the tea and sat it before Toby. “I am sorry that you've found yourself in the middle of such animosity between the Houses. If you have any problems, don't hesitate to come to me. I would be honoured for you to consider me a friend, that is, if things don't work out between your mother and Draco.

“Thank you, sir,” Toby answered softly, suddenly tired by the night's events. “That would be nice.”

“Very good,” the Professor said, looking away again. “Now please, take a biscuit, and when you're finished I'll walk you to your dorm.”


Freedom

Four days ago, Lucius Malfoy had been beaten. He had been scourged like a cringing dog, kicked like a wayward workhorse, punched like a common Muggle. The shame of the acts committed upon his body, along with the revelation of his soon to be ex-wife, caused him to retch painfully over the hole in the floor that was his toilet. He felt the blood drip from his broken nose, and the painful tearing in his abdomen as a rib was displaced. He was naked, and shivering with the cold and shock of the last few hours. He did not welcome the sensations, as he might have when he had his freedom.

Freedom. No, Lucius had never been free.

When he was a child he laboured under the heavy-handed tyranny of Abraxas Malfoy, his shoulders, back and buttocks often stinging from the blows of the man's cane across them. The boy-Lucius was a Malfoy. He would not be allowed to be weak like his mother. He would not treat the house elves with anything other than contempt; he would not befriend the Muggles in the area, regardless of whether they were the only children for miles around or not; he would not engage in activities, such as drawing, singing, and running about like a child. These acts were the acts of a blood-traitor, not a scion of a pureblood family. Lucius' mother may be dead, but there were plenty of other brood mares around to get another heir on. Lucius could always become the spare, if he chose not to comply with his father's wishes.

When he was older, he had striven to gain the attention of the Old Fool, hoping to get some relief from the abuse at his home, but Dumbledore only saw the evil in Lucius, never the small amount of good not beaten out of him by his father. When he had been made Prefect, he had nourished a small hope that the old man would smile at him, give him some sign that he was worthy of his position. Lucius had quickly realised that his appointment had been merely political. It was not bestowed because Lucius was seen as worthwhile, it was given because of his surname. Lucius was still enslaved to his position. That was the moment he gave in to his father's ideals, and became the cold, sneering Malfoy through-and-through.

Or so he thought, until he saw the surly little stick-figure enter the train with the Mud-blood. The boy's clothes hung from his gaunt frame, his hair a mass of snarls and dirt. His exposed wrists bore the signs of abuse, signs Lucius knew all too well. When the odious Potter, the soon-to-be Gryffindor golden boy, had reacted unfavorably to the little boy, Lucius' interest was peaked. If only the boy landed in Slytherin and could be separated from the filth with which he associated. Lucius began working on the child from the first night. At the time, if he had been asked, he could not have told anyone why the waif mattered. Lucius only knew he did.

Severus had given him a measure of comfort in his last two years at Hogwarts. It was surprising really, given that the boy was all Abraxas Malfoy hated about the new wizarding world: Half-blood, ugly, common, and friends with a Mudblood. Lucius took the boy with the quick intelligence and wicked sense of humour, under his wing, but the boy, even as a first year, had been difficult. After a time, Lucius recognised their kinship. He saw the same need in Severus that he saw in himself. Each boy felt the need to be recognised as a person of worth, not scorned, or in Lucius' case, envied, for his position in the world. Even with the difference in their ages, they had become friends of sorts.

Narcissa, of course, never knew his blood status, or she would have thrown a fit when Lucius asked him to join their unofficial post-Quidditch parties, or invited him to spend holidays with them in Spain or the French Riviera, Malfoy always paid the boy's way and gave him spending money. Severus paid his debts to the older boy by making Lucius look good. Friendship with a Malfoy always came at a price. Yet, Lucius had truly liked the dark, ugly boy. He wanted him to do well, and he never felt that Severus tried to enslave him. Thus, Lucius never truly exploited the younger boy, not as Abraxas would have in the same position.

Then, had come the younger Malfoy's first meeting with The Dark Lord. How Lucius ever thought he would achieve that graceful state of freedom under his despotic rule, he would never fathom. He could blame the fact that he became a Death Eater on Abraxas, but it would be a lie. Just as much as Abraxas wanted him to join their ranks, Lucius wanted the freedom that the Dark Lord promised. He craved it as a child craves chocolate.

He found out soon enough that Riddle had lied. Now, instead of carrying only the yoke of the Malfoy name, he was branded as a servant of the Dark Lord like a piece of chattel. When his new owner was displeased, he showed it with bouts of Crucio and more arcane tortures. Terror became his new master, and Lucius played his role well to avoid the pain and the emptiness he felt.

His greatest regret had been bringing Severus to the fold. He should have let him work things out with his Mudblood. He should have let him be happy, or as happy as Severus ever could be, given his sad history.

One day Lucius was forced to marry Narcissa. He hadn't loved her but found her attractive enough. They had dated at Hogwarts, so he complied, knowing he could do worse. He could have been saddled with Bellatrix or the blood-traitor Andromeda, for instance. The first years of their marriage had been fraught with tension Lucius railed at the lack of choice and Narcissa was still a child of her upbringing, rather more common than a Malfoy, but thankfully, not like her sisters.

Once Lucius accepted the idea of his union and the Fidelity curse that had been wrought to ensure a blooded heir, things became easier between them. He fell in love with her over the first years of their marriage, although he would never tell her so. Such strong emotions could be used against him. When she announced her pregnancy to him, after years of trying, the chains imposed on him tightened, but he hadn't cared. He had kissed her dutifully and excused himself. Alone, he cried tears of joy and fear. He vowed he would not raise his son as he, himself, had been raised.

Of course he had failed utterly. His son would never be beaten, as Lucius had, but the boy would be just as enslaved. The Dark Lord wanted all the children of his loyal followers in the fold, so, to save his family, Lucius would raise his son with the same ideals in which he had been steeped, minus the frequent beatings, of course.

He would allow Narcissa to coddle him, and Lucius would let the boy know he was loved by the gifts he gave him. He would not allow soft sentiments to pass his lips. It was the one principle on which he agreed with Abraxas. Words could be used to lie and thus weakened the bond of purity between father and son. Purity was what he lived to maintain, to the exclusion of almost all else. His son and heir would be pure and strong. The pureblood dogma was, after all, what Lucius desired to uphold, was it not? It was one of the reasons he had become a Death Eater.

When his Lord had died, in the first year of Draco's life, Lucius could breathe a little easier, even though he had become a twisted and dark thing along the way. He had a few scores to settle, and he did so. Weasley's daughter hadn't been the target of his ire, but it felt good, at the time, to catch her in his net. Killing the damned Potter brat's Mudblood friend had been his true aim. She bested Draco at everything and endangered his son's position. No Mudblood should have been able to do that, much less befriend such a powerful wizard. Even Severus grudgingly admitted his admiration of the chit. When the dark man had uttered the words, bestowed begrudgingly or not, Lucius had decided to get rid of her. The plan had failed, and had cemented his unenviable position in the Dark Lord's ranks when he finally returned. How was Lucius to know that the sick bastard had stored a piece of his soul in such a relic?

The agony of the punishment had not been physical. He had to watch as the Dark Lord enacted what he would do to Narcissa if Lucius failed him again. They had brought a poor, confused Muggle woman into the Manor. She was almost an exact duplicate of Narcissa, down to the robes in which she had been clothed. She had been given a Love Potion, made by Severus no doubt, to alter her mind and make her think Lucius loved her. Her pleading eyes sought his, and he could not turn away.

To say she was tortured was to deny the horrors inflicted on her body and soul. Lucius assumed a dispassionate air, but swallowed the bile that rose as he watched the assembled Death Eaters take her brutally and with great imagination. He almost broke when Greyback joined the fray, half-transformed. He took obvious enjoyment in the bloody effluvia on the woman. As he fucked her with his transformed girth, the Dark Lord gave the order to end the entertainment. Greyback eviscerated her and began feasting on her intestines as her horrified screams echoed in the hall. Muggle filth, or not, no being deserved that.

That was the night Lucius decided to turn the chains of his enslavement on his master.

He approached Severus. He had, of course, an inkling of Severus' true allegiance. The Mudblood's death had affected his dark friend greatly. Lucius wept as he told of the revel he had been forced to witness. He had never fully realised that Muggles were truly human, that they shared a commonality with wizards that could not be denied. Severus held him, his arms looped stiffly around Lucius' shoulders, his hands wooden as they smoothed his hair. Severus never spoke words of comfort, but Lucius could feel his dearest friend's relief at Lucius' epiphany.

They had formulated a plan to save as many targeted women as they could. They both knew to do more would risk exposure. The Old Fool had been brought into the room and oaths were sworn. Narcissa would be his unwitting accomplice. Lucius asked nothing for himself, only that his wife and Draco be spared. He knew The Dark Lord had designs on his son, and would eventually punish him for his failures through Draco.

Then had come the Department of Mysteries fiasco. Lucius had done his best to deter the others from their plans of murder. He had to cast curses, but refused to kill. There were four pureblood children there, and as unenlightened as it seemed, Lucius could not spill their blood. They would breed the next generation, the hope for all of wizarding society. Even the two Weasleys were valuable in their way. They came from good breeders. Lucius had played the cruel Death Eater bastard to the hilt, but had winced when Dolohov had cursed the Granger chit. He knew the spell he had used well; it had been used on him a time or two. She would be in pain, if she survived. The Order came, and more pure blood was spilled. Even if the blood belonged to Severus' childhood tormentor, he mourned the loss. So much waste, for no gain. At the end of the battle, Lucius had not meant to be captured, it had just happened. He was sent to Azkaban, for his own protection. But who would protect his family? Both Severus and Dumbledore tried, but they failed to understand the depths to which the Dark Lord would sink, or later, the import of the Old Fool's injury.

Lucius waited helplessly in the prison while his son was given an impossible task. He could only hope that Severus was as true a friend as he professed, and that he loved Draco as much as Lucius suspected he did. Draco and Narcissa were the only people in the world that Lucius cared about, and he would have spilt the blood from his veins to ensure their safety.

Lucius stirred from the floor of his cell. He had lost everything in the end. His crimes would not be washed away by the acts of compassion he committed so late in the game. Severus had died, and Lucius' last hope of resuming the life he had begun after the first war, was dead with him.

He had been forced to lead the only man he had ever truly called a friend to that state by Lucius' ready compliance to a command by the despot. To fail would have meant his own death, or the death of his beloved family. And Draco, his son and Malfoy heir, was reduced to penury and patronage by the Potter brat. Both were crimes and could be laid firmly at his feet. Now, he had one more supposed crime to add to the list-- his attempted murder of the faithless bitch that had been his wife for the last thirty-two years.

The guards, as they were beating him, had said he had earned himself a new home, but it would be up to the warden to decide where that would be.

Oh yes, the warden had found him a new home in this most accommodating of places, the new Malfoy Manor: Solitary Confinement Unit, the three words most dreaded by the inmates of Azkaban. He would languish here until his hearing. He would lose whatever small concessions had been granted him by his good behaviour. He would never see his son again.

Lucius retched one more time to cover the motion of his hand to his mouth. He had one way out of this situation, and he would take it.

He withdrew the shank from its hiding place along his gum-line, drawing it forcefully down his arms, parallel to tendons down the artery. He watched in satisfaction as the arterial spray decorated his new abode. In moments, he would find the freedom he had always sought.

&*&*&

Lucius entered a brightly-lit area, not unlike the King's Cross Station of his youth. He found a bench, and sat, glad to be away from the prison of his memories.

He was obviously dead, and a good thing too. He did not think he could bear one more day as the failure he was.

He had wanted something before he came here, but for the life of him, he could not remember what. His attention was drawn to an infant, horribly mutilated and crying softly under a bench. Lucius wanted to stir himself to see it, but really could not be bothered. The infant's problems were its own, Lucius had only served it. There had been no love between him and that monstrosity. He turned back to the view of the tracks.

A hand fluttered into his line of sight. It was soft, feminine and golden. He followed it to the shapely shoulder, up the long neck, finally into the meltingly-beautiful topaz eyes. “I'm Tish Cavanaugh, and you must be Draco's father, Lucius.”

She smiled, transforming her face from dazzling beauty to a heavenly creature of light and purity. Lucius blinked, disconcerted by her proximity. He should not want her, but he did. Thankfully, lassitude enveloped him and he couldn't stir himself to move towards her. She continued, “We never actually met, but I'm the mother of your grandson, Scorpius.”

“Yes, the Muggle with whom Draco was so enamoured.” Lucius turned his gaze away, realising he felt no pain and was clothed again.

“We really don't have those distinctions here.” She frowned, and the platform settled into grey tones. “I wish they would do something about him.”

Lucius followed her gaze to the infant. “Don't worry about him, my dear. He deserves his pain and then some.”

“You don't,” she stated simply. “You never did.”

Lucius sneered, the one he had learned from his father. “And what would you know of it, my dear? I am not my son. I have no soft spots that can be coaxed to thrive. I am a monster who served that thing over there as eagerly as I could.”

She started to reply, but he cut her off. “Where's Snape? He would understand.”

Her smile brightened impossibly. “I'm sorry, he's not here. He has some duties to complete before he can join us.”

“Still a bastard, even in the afterlife, hmm?” Lucius flashed his most winning smile to her. “Well, tell him to drop his duties and come to me. I want to see him before I'm consigned to Hell.”

“I'm sorry, sir, he hasn't joined us yet, and neither have you.” she sighed. “You must return now. You have a son waiting for you, and duties of your own to accomplish.”

“Oh, and Mr. Malfoy?” she said as she paused in the doorway between the two worlds. “Let Draco know that the path he's on right now is the right one. Liz was always intended for him.”

Lucius could not watch as she disappeared into the light, the loss of her kind presence was too painful.

&*&*&

Lucius stirred, his hands bound, his body aching. Tears pooled in his eyes as he realised he was in a hospital ward, still chained to a life he would gladly relinquish, if only to sit, once more, on the platform and be free.


Thanks for reading. You know what I want, (not sex, you dirty-minded little imps) REVIEWS!!!