Freedom

While Christmas was a joyous affair, it was still a bit melancholy and sad with the loss of Fred, Tonks and Remus. Andromeda had come along with a nearly three year old Teddy and watching him play with two year old Victoire had lifted everyone\'s spirits as well as Gin\'s announcement that she was marrying Pucey, but everyone could still hear the Weasley matriarch crying softly in the kitchen and Arthur looked older than his years. Everyone tried to brush it off as a reaction to the onions Molly was chopping, but even obtuse Ron knew she was fooling no one. Even still, she was a prideful woman and no one called her on it.



On top of the still fresh melancholy of the dead, Ron\'s thoughts were preoccupied with the horrors he had seen the day before. He would glance at Harry so often and he could see the horror and preoccupation in his eyes as well. Hermione had tried to comfort the both of them the best she could but despite a squabble that had taken his mind off his thoughts (which he had hugged Hermione for when they were done) he was quiet and his smiles barely reached his eyes.



Raven was at the top of his thoughts. Her vaguely familiar silver eyes haunted him throughout dinner and presents and all the way home to the flat he shared with Harry and Hermione. He wanted to visit the girl again, give her birthday and Christmas gifts but that was a conflict of interest. Hell, his visit with her earlier had been a conflict of interest. Sighing, he plopped down on the couch and rested his head against the back of the couch. Ugh. What a fucking mess.



Hermione had been watching Ron all day. Harry, too, but for some reason, Ron seemed more... withdrawn. It was unusual. Usually that was Harry\'s job, to go all distant and bleak.



Coming into the living room, she saw Ron sitting on the couch, staring off into space, and frowned.



"Ron, what\'s been eating you today? Is it Fred? You weren\'t like this last Christmas," she said softly, sitting next to him on the couch and laying a concerned hand on his thigh.



Ron looked down at the small hand that a few months ago could\'ve had him more excited than an all-you-can eat smorgasbord but after their break up held nothing but comfort. "It\'s a bit of Fred," he replied softly, giving her a small smile and covering her hand with his. "Remember the raid last night? It... it was horrible, Hermione. What they did to those girls... and there was one there. She has to be about our age...." He shook his head and closed his eyes, his fingers reflexively squeezing hers. "She was so broken looking. I went to visit her today even though I knew I shouldn\'t. Today\'s her birthday." He sighed and scrubbed his large rough hand down his face. "I just can\'t get her out of my head."



While Hermione had no idea before this raid had gone down that such horrors persisted in the Wizarding World, although on reflection she didn\'t know why that would surprise her, given her own experiences thus far in it, she was quite familiar with the problem in Trafficking that Muggle authorities faced.



Sighing, she laid a head on Ron\'s shoulder. "How was she today?" she asked softly, no hit of condemnation for his breaking a rule in her voice (for once). "Poor thing... after that... to be alone on Christmas, and her birthday...." Hermione\'s heart went out to the girl. "That\'s just not right."



"No, it\'s not," he murmured, wrapping his arm along her shoulder and laying his cheek on the top of her head. "She looked okay. I couldn\'t ask a Healer how she was really doing since I wasn\'t supposed to be there, but she looked... scarred but functional. She seems tough so I think she\'ll be ok... eventually."



He closed his eyes and buried his face in her riotous curly hair. "I\'d heard rumors of such places, my brothers would tell me about them, but I thought they were just stories to scare kids. I didn\'t know... I had no idea that such horror could exist after Voldemort. Why are humans like that? I thought the Wizarding Society was beyond all that shite. I thought we were better than the Muggles at least when it came to that sort of thing."



Hermione stiffened. "Your brothers go to places like that?" she asked in a hard voice, trying to picture any of the Weasley\'s frequenting a place where women were hurt or tortured and finding it very difficult. Paying for sex, though.... She didn\'t think they\'d need to, but she could see them hiring a call girl. Still....



"Oh, no no no. Merlin no," Ron replied, instantly disgusted and horrified, instinctively recoiling away from the thought. "No, they never went to those sorts of places. They were passing along stories they\'d heard from their friends who probably heard them from their friends. They wanted to gross me out, but I highly doubt they believed such places really existed back then. Nowadays they probably know the stories are true, but a twelve year old telling a ten year old about the what goes on in a club like that, it was a little hard for us to believe."



Hermione just sighed sadly. She couldn\'t even imagine what the girl had been through. Not really. She\'d only had three partners in her life, and they\'d all been friends first, boyfriends second, and remained friends after. While their skills had not been vast, they\'d at least tried and wanted to make things good for her....



"I think, Ron, that you should take her a gift, or a cake, or something. Sneak it in if you have to. But no one should be alone on Christmas. Especially after... that...."



"Yeah... yeah, I was going to get her a Christmas gift and a birthday gift, but a cake sounds good too," he replied thoughtfully. "I have no idea what to get her for a gift though, so maybe I should stick to food? Everyone likes a good cake and maybe balloons. I don\'t even know her size otherwise I\'d get her like some robes or something. It didn\'t look like she had... any clothes. She certainly didn\'t bring any with her to the hospital. Woah, hold up. Are you... are you insisting I break the rules? Hermione Granger!" he gasped, his tone light and teasing even if the smile curling on his lips didn\'t quite reach his eyes.



"Ron, I\'ve always insisted on breaking the rules for a good cause," she said in mock affront. "But... yes. I think you should. Borrow Harry\'s cloak, even. But don\'t leave her alone on Christmas in the hospital...." she finished, her heart hurting for the poor girl, even if she\'d never met her before.



"I won\'t," he murmured, kissing the top of Hermione\'s head. After giving her shoulders a comforting squeeze, he stood and went to find Harry to borrow his cloak and make a trip to Diagon Alley for some cake, balloons and flowers.



***



Narcissa had woken feeling refreshed and alive after her afternoon nap. She loved the holidays, loved spending it with her son and now that her husband was home, she loved having him there and all to herself. She now knew why Lucius had slipped out of the house in the early afternoon and wouldn\'t return until Christmas dinner, but with that whore and that whore spawn long since out of the way, Lucius had nowhere to go. Besides, this was his and Draco\'s first Christmas since their release from Azkaban some weeks earlier. She should have them all to herself.



If she\'d lacked any grace, she would have skipped downstairs, but as it was she glided gracefully down the main staircase in her wrapper to the sitting room where the family was relaxing after their rather large dinner. "Evening love," she murmured giving Lucius and Draco kisses on their cheeks before sitting next to Lucius in her chair and letting a House Elf drape her lap with a blanket and give her a book to read.



Lucius smiled at his wife, although of late the smile had been a bit... dead. Lacking. It never reached his eyes anymore. If Narcissa had noticed, and he privately doubted she did, she likely had written it off to the chilling effects of Azkaban Prison. Even without the Dementors, the hulking, bleak stone fortress rising out of the sea did little for the soul. But like as not, she didn\'t even think about him, too wrapped up in her own joy at having their son returned to her and her family once more made whole.



Her family, but not his.



The day he\'d been released he\'d gone looking for Sylvia, even before he\'d returned to Wiltshire. A man of his station, his marriage had been arranged for him by his father, and while he loved his wife, it was a love born of duty. Duty to family. Not because Narcissa was a lovable woman. And like other men of his station, he had found what his marriage bed lacked in the arms of another. Where Narcissa was frost, prim and proper, a valuable asset to a business man, a fellow Slytherin, the woman he\'d loved had been her opposite. Sylvia was the fiery heat of passion, of life itself. And that heat was what had attracted him to her, and had quite stolen his heart.



When he\'d arrived at the townhouse where he\'d installed his love and their child, he\'d felt as though the little heart he\'d still had after two years in Azkban had stopped beating. He could hardly believe that Sylvia had abandoned him, even though she\'d probably felt as though he\'d abandoned her, and done so even before his incarceration. She\'d never approved of his work with the Dark Lord, and had been long telling him he was a fool for his continued support. And now... now she was gone. She\'d left him.



So while his wife might be pleased to have her family together on this Christmas Day, Lucius\'s thoughts were instead on his other family. The one he despaired of ever seeing again.



She not only took herself... she took Raven, too.



His thoughts lingered on his daughter. She was turning 19 today. He\'d bought a card for her, and a gift, carefully selected them as though he was going to see her, even though they sat in his private vault. The one Narcissa didn\'t and wouldn\'t know of. The one that only the Head of the Family had access to.



His baby girl....



Once more he forced his lips to curl in a surface smile, even as his thoughts were far away with his daughter.... Where ever she was....



Narcissa hardly noticed her husband\'s preoccupation and opened her book. "Draco, must you eat such fatty foods," she sniffed, looking disdainfully down at the plate of ham, puddings, and salads. After his return from Azkaban, all Draco seemed to do was eat but just because he\'d spent the last couple of years in jail didn\'t mean he should clog his body with such filth.



Draco gave her a glower and returned to petulantly eating what was on his plate.



"Ah, the paper." An owl swooped in and landed on the back of the empty fourth chair across from Draco bearing two newspapers, one for her and one for Lucius. Draco had never been one for reading. She paid the owl a few knuts and sent the bird on its way. The Prophet usually sent a morning and evening edition but for Christmas Day they only ever delivered an evening paper.



Raid on Club Christmas Eve - Girls Saved! read the headlines and on the front picture in black and white was dearest Ronald Weasley carrying a battered looking bundle in his arms as he dashed through a crowd of women to a Healer. The glimpse of the girl was brief but clear and Narcissa felt a line of cold slither down her back. It was that bitch\'s spawn! She looked up slowly just in time for Lucius to unroll his paper too late to stop him.



Lucius looked at his paper, ignoring the whining tones of his son and wife, and felt the blood drain from his face.



That long, silky, blue-black hair, with its tendency to curl just a bit... and there... a flash of face... it was her. He felt his blood go from frozen to boiling at the bruises on her face, on her bare arms, and thinking about how they got there chilled his soul. Staring at that picture and watching the scene play out over and over, he saw more. Things that would haunt him until he died. The collar around her neck. The shredded flesh at her ankles.



Sickened, he scanned the article quickly, pushing down his disgust and carefully, deliberately, folded the paper, laying it neatly on the end table.



With more determination that he\'d felt in quite literally two years, he stood from the sofa and wordlessly began walking from the door. Something... something had happened. Had destroyed his family. And now, someone was going to pay.



But first, he had to get in to see his baby girl....



"Lucius? Lucius where are you going?" Narcissa asked, standing and following her husband out of the sitting room to the front foyer. Fear balled in her stomach making her sick with worry and fear for her family. "Lucius, you stop and tell me what is going on this instant!" Her voice had turned into an undignified shriek but he would not stop moving. She knew where he was going, but she needed him here, she needed him more.



Until that moment, Lucius had thought only to get away from his wife and son and spare them from the truth, and from his quickly growing rage.



But hearing his wife\'s shrieking voice, something that in twenty-three years of marriage he\'d heard only three times, he stopped dead in his tracks. Not in obedience, but in dismay. The only reason Narcissa would scream like a fish-wife, would be because she knew something. More than known. She was involved in something and was desperate for him not to know.



And there was only one thing that it could be.



When he turned to face her, there was no pretense of a smile, there was no emotion on his face at all.



Pulling up short, Narcissa\'s shrieks fell silent at his expression. He was dead inside, she couldn\'t read anything on his face, not even hauteur. She\'d gone too far. In her panic, she had shown her hand. "When will you be home?" she murmured demurely, backing down and casting her gaze to the floor.



For a long moment, he just looked at her, letting her see on his face that he knew. He considered using Legilimency, but in the end didn\'t need to. Her expression said enough. Panic, and her inability to look him in the eyes.



"When my business is finished," he said coldly, turning his back on her and beginning to make his way to his bed chamber, wondering just how far she would push him.



Draco came out of the sitting room and looked at them oddly. "Everything is fine," Narcissa murmured, following her husband upstairs.



She remained silent, just watching him dress in his bedroom. "Why?" she whispered, letting him see exactly how much hurt he had put her through. She didn\'t need to elaborate any further as the question asked it all.



He raised an eyebrow, wondering if she really thought that he\'d feel guilt. Perhaps, had Narcissa been innocent, perhaps then he would have. But knowing that she had been involved in some way with the horror that had descended on his daughter, he not only felt no guilt for any hurt to his wife, he found himself reveling in twisting the knife.



"My dear wife, the innocent maiden act doesn\'t suit you at all. We were Slytherins, and our marriage was a uniting of bloodlines. You knew it then, have you somehow forgotten it now?" he asked, raising a sardonic eyebrow. "You didn\'t honestly expect that I\'d be satisfied by a frigid ice queen, did you? Particularly after Draco was born and became the center of your world?" He shook his head sadly and made a tutting noise. "Still, I was discreet. Would you have preferred I carry on publicly all those years, like Pucey did? Or your charming brother-in-law? No wonder your sister went crazy. He probably brought home some strange Muggle disease," he said, a sneer on his lips of distaste for the insane witch that had tried to destroy his family on more than one occasion. "If that\'s your preference, then by all means, I\'ll be sure to follow it from this point forward."



Narcissa flinched as if he\'d struck her but composed herself as best she could. She had loved Lucius, as deeply as she could - which was to say not very deeply at all - and she did appreciate that he kept his indiscretions discreet, but to have a child with the bint? A bastard? What had he honestly been hoping to achieve since the girl could never be legitimately claimed as an heir. "A child Lucius? Don\'t deny it, Draco was the center of your world, too, or was he not enough for you? Did you see so many of your inadequacies reflected in our only son that you felt a need to try to erase them with another child?"



"A daughter, Narcissa. A sweet, loving, dark-haired beauty who ran to me with open arms and give sweet little girl kisses on my cheeks and told me she loved me? Who smelled like flowers and wanted me to read her bedtime stories? Who baked cookies and had tea parties? No, why would I have ever wanted that?" he asked, scornfully. "Why would I ever want another child to love, to dress in pretty clothing and listen to her giggle? Particularly since you never seemed too keen on the idea of loosing your figure once you\'d done your duty and had Draco."



He turned his back on her then to finish dressing. It was an old argument.



"I love Draco, Narcissa. And I\'m quite proud of him. You did well in raising him. But unlike you, I have enough love in my heart for more than one child," he said coldly.



"That\'s rich coming from you. Lucius, you haven\'t looked beyond yourself ever. Draco was the only exception to that rule and even then your love was half given," Narcissa scoffed. "Or perhaps that makes perfect sense. Your love for Draco was half given so you had plenty to spare for a bastard."



He stopped, holding still and fighting the urge to throttle his wife.



"Perhaps," he finally said, standing and turning back to her, his rage once more flashing in his eyes. "Or perhaps I merely saved it for those capable of sharing theirs back. Regardless, though, that girl on the front page of the paper is my beloved daughter. I will do right by her, as befits a child of my blood. If I find out you put her there, then I can only hope you have the presence of mind to find a dark hole to crawl into where you can hide yourself as effectively as you hid her," he said, for the first time, threat making his voice harsh. "Or past obligations to you aside, you will wish I had never been freed from Azkaban because when I\'m done with whoever did that to her, I will likely be going back for the rest of my life."



Narcissa\'s eyes widened and her nostrils flared in anger, her cheeks turning pink. "Are you threatening me? How dare you! I am Narcissa Black! You do not threaten a Black, you easily-led fool! Any man who was taken in by that scaly, nostriless fuck not once but twice SHOULD do time! You deserved it for being a complete Hufflepuff!"



Lucius didn\'t realize he\'d hit his wife until he felt the sting in his hand and heard the crack as his palm impacted on her face. Watching impassively, he saw her head fly back, her hair swinging out as her eyes went wide and her own hand clasped her cheek. "If you\'re still a Black, then you should get out of the Malfoy Ancestral Home and return to your own... oh, wait. There isn\'t a Black Family anymore," he said coldly. "Your Muggle-loving cousin saw to that. And what is left belongs to Potter now, anyway. So really, wife, you have no where to go. I would encourage you to think about your situation very, very carefully."



And without giving her a chance to respond, he grabbed his cloak from a waiting elf and Apparated away, leaving her clutching her quickly reddening cheek.



***



Lucius had no problems bribing the medi-witch on duty to see his daughter after hours. It also helped that she was very enamored of him as well. Slipping into his daughter\'s room he felt his heart break again. She lay there without a bruise or a scratch on her but she was so... defenseless looking. Even in repose she had a quiet mournful air about her. His heart may have broken but it also grew stronger and more determined to destroy all who had done this to her.



Silently, he moved over to sit next to his daughter\'s bed, reaching out to take her limp hand. Was she in a coma? Or just sleeping. Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed the back of it and rested it against his cheek. "I\'m sorry, princess," he whispered.



Subconsciously, Raven was aware someone was in her room. She could feel them in the subtle shifts of the air current. When they touched her, even gently, she had to fight to keep from flinching, her stomach tightening at even the soft touch. But when she heard the voice, her eyes shot open and she jerked back, blinking hard and not quite believing that it was real and not a dream.



"P-p-papa?" she stuttered in her shock, hardly daring to believe her eyes and ears.



Lucius reacted more with more composure, slowly leaning back and retrieving his hand. "Hello, Princess," he said softly, giving her a small but warm smile. "I\'ve missed you. I thought about you every day in Azkaban. Your face was the only thing that got me through the long hard days."



She was slowly getting over her shock, and wasn\'t sure if this was real, or a dream, or a nightmare that would soon end in her death....



But really, she had nothing to lose. "I thought about you, too. How could I not, since they made me your property. Ironic, really. You didn\'t give me your name as your daughter, but I got Marked with your coat of arms as your slave," she said in a cold voice, some of the hurt and betrayal she\'d felt for the last two years coloring her voice as deeply as the inflection of hauter that was part of her birthright from both of her parents.



He felt as though the blood had completely left his body. He didn\'t understand what she was talking about but at the same time he did. The article, the women in the club... who had done this to his baby girl? Oh he knew exactly who. His jaw tightened with barely suppressed anger. "Raven, I had nothing to do with that," he said with quiet yet strong conviction. "You were - are - my princess. I had no idea what happened to you. When I was released from Azkaban I checked on you and your mother only to find the home empty and not lived in for a long time. I love you, Raven. I never stopped."



"Two years," she whispered. "Two years almost to the day. Is that a long time? It certainly felt like an eternity.... Two years begging men to kill me.... I thought it was you that night... home for my birthday. Instead...." she trailed off, closing her eyes, although as she did, the memory played out on her eyelids.



Had her eyes remained open she would\'ve seen Lucius age a decade right then and there and she would\'ve seen his grief writ large on his face. "Raven -" he began, but what do you say to something like that? \'I\'m sorry\' didn\'t even begin to touch his remorse and barely even scratched the guilt he felt.



"I wanted to be there for your birthday," he whispered raggedly when he was able to find his voice again. Narcissa was going to pay and she was going to pay handsomely for this. "I wrote you letters, but I suppose you never got them. If I\'d known what had happened, the walls of Azkaban wouldn\'t\'ve been able to keep me away, but I thought you were safe with your mother. What... what happened to Sylvia? Was she taken too?"



"No," Raven said in a dead voice. "I woke up hearing voices. I thought it was you, so I came out. But it wasn\'t you. It was a woman and two men. Mum was already dead. The woman told the men to do whatever they wanted with me and left and they..." she stopped. For all that she was a whore, had been for two years, she still felt awkward mentioning sex to her father. If she could call him that. He\'d never claimed her, after all. She had believed him when he told her he couldn\'t, but it remained that he never had, which was something the men had reminded her of, over and over. "No... she died. I thought you had, too."



"It felt like I had at times, died and gone to hell," he murmured, his eyes far away and distant at the memories. While Azkaban no longer housed Dementors, the conditions on the island prison were still deplorable and there were days, weeks when he felt like he had gone straight to hell.



"But I\'m alive," he whispered, returning his gaze to her. "I\'m alive and I\'m going to take care of you. Narcissa won\'t be... with us much longer so she won\'t present any difficulties. I want to claim you as my own, as a Malfoy and I want you to come live with me and your brother so that we can finally be a real family. Just like in the stories I used to tell you."



She gave a harsh snort of laughter, her silver eyes as hard as hematite. "A family? I think the time for that is long passed, Father. You didn\'t think Draco would want a sister who was a bastard, why would he want one who was a whore, too? Why would you? You have your family name to consider, after all. Discretion is the better part of valor, is it not? It was fine to love me in private. But you can\'t have the shame to love me in public. And if you couldn\'t then..." she shrugged, "you certainly can\'t now. Besides, once I\'m out of here, my life will be forfeit. The Ministry won\'t bother to protect a woman like me, and there are too many men who wouldn\'t want anyone to know their shameful little secrets...."



He sighed softly and leaned back in his chair. "The Malfoy name means nothing in this day and age. In fact, it would be detrimental to you if you chose to take my name and live with us. You would be cast in the same taint as we would and that would not help you in the Wizarding World at all. But while my name is mud, money still talks in the Ministry. Shaklebolt may think he has rooted out the corruption in the Ministry, but palms will always be greased and I can ensure your life will be well protected whether you come to live with me or not. If you don\'t want to be a family with me, at least allow me that."



She looked at him carefully. "I have few options in this, father. I have no money and no where to live. I have few skills and no official education. The only job I\'m qualified for, I\'d rather not return to. I don\'t want to marry, even assuming there was a man who\'d be willing to marry a woman like me. But I don\'t want to cause you problems for your real family," she said in a bitter voice. "I certainly wouldn\'t want to inconvenience them. So don\'t be hasty. You have a few days to decide whether or not you really mean that offer. The healers have said they\'re keeping me at least through New Years. Apparently the internal damage was sufficient that they don\'t think it will ever be healed, but they want to wait until some of the more senior healers come back from their holidays before they wash their hands of me."



The bitterness, the raw anger, the pain and loneliness in her voice ate away at his insides. "My mind won\'t change, Raven," he said softly. "It has been set and it won\'t deviate from that. As for my family, did you not hear what I said about my wife? You won\'t have to worry about her any longer nor will you have to worry about working ever again. I know you\'re headstrong and that seems to be one attribute that had not been beaten from you, but please... let me take care of you. At least until you find gainful employment and are able to live on your own."



A long moment passed while she said nothing, merely sat there in silence considering his words. "My pride wants me to say no, but I don\'t think I have much of a choice. Sell my pride, or my body. I\'ve done both in the last two years. I think there\'s less danger in selling my pride," she said in a soft voice.



Lucius\' understanding of what pride was was different from the type of pride that Raven was hinting at. He was proud of his family name, of his heritage, but he had little concept of the type of pride that made one feel broken or defeated if trampled upon like Raven\'s. So it was with a bright smile lighting up his lined features that he nodded at her acceptance. "It\'s settled then. You can have one of the town homes in London if you refuse to come home to Malfoy Manor and I will personally see to it that you receive round the clock protection until the men you\'re afraid of are eliminated or jailed."



With a sigh, she nodded her agreement. "We can decide later. After you discuss it with your wife and son. Do they even know I exist? How... how did you find me?"



"You were on the front page," he said opening his robes and pulling out the paper he had absently placed inside an inner pocket. He opened the paper and handed it to her. The repeating image of her battered body being carried through the crowd in Weasley\'s arms played out in her lap. "I never thought I\'d say this but... perhaps... I owe a thank you to Weasley." He grimaced as if he\'d just taken a deep pull on a particularly sour lemon.



She looked at the picture and bit her lip at the image.



"He... he seems nice enough. He came to visit me this morning. To see how I was. Wanted to know if I had family he could contact. I didn\'t tell him about you. I didn\'t think you wanted people to know. Especially with what I\'ve become. He\'s the one who found me, though. I owe him my life. I was still chained to the bed and all but dead. The healers said another few minutes...."



Lucius shuddered at the thought. It seemed he owed Weasley a lot more than he initially thought. "I\'ll see to it that he is properly thanked then," he murmured, conflicted over his sense of superiority over the Weasleys and extremely grateful of their youngest son. "And I\'ve stopped caring what others think and if I hear otherwise from them that you are anything but beautiful, let me take care of that."



Raven was torn. On the one hand, she wanted to hand over all of her problems to the man that had been the center of her young, happy life and let him take care of her. On the other hand, she had learned the hard way that life isn\'t like that. She wasn\'t a child anymore. She had grown up in a brutal and very efficient way.



She shook her head. There was a time when all she wanted was for him to take care of her. Hell, there was a time when she\'d thought he would always take care of her.



"You know, father, you made your choices a long time ago. And everyone around you suffered for them. Mum\'s dead because of your choices. I spent the last two years on my back being brutalized because of them. Your real family paid for them. So, forgive me if I\'m not completely sure you can take care of me, or of them. Especially since now I\'m wondering who the woman who killed my mother was. You know, don\'t you, Papa?" she asked quietly.



He couldn\'t help the flinch at her harsh words. He wanted nothing more than to deny what she\'d said but every bit of it was true. Despite that, he wasn\'t exactly going to own up to his mistakes either. "Yes, I know who did it. It was Narcissa and like I said before, she will be dealt with in the most... fitting way I can think of." His thoughtful expression returned to Raven. "Unless perhaps you would care to meet out a punishment you feel fitting to the woman who put you in that... place?"



She looked at him carefully, two years as a whore teaching her quite thoroughly how to read expression, the flash of pupil, the rapidity of breathing.



"Are you choosing me over your wife?" she asked finally.



"I am," he replied softly, his voice grave with the decision he was making. Even though he and Narcissa had been married for well over twenty years, his first loyalty, his first love were to his children. If they were in any danger from his spouse, friend, associate, no matter how well or how long he\'d known them, his children had a higher priority than those relationships. It was part paternal instinct, part protecting his bloodline, but it was all love. He\'d failed Draco in protecting him from Voldemort and he\'d already failed Raven once; he refused to let them down any further. "You are my responsibility and part of being a parent is to protect your child even against another parent - well she\'s not your mother, but you understand what I\'m trying to say."



Some of the anger and betrayal she\'d felt for the last two years melted at his words, at the matter of fact tone of resignation in his voice that nonetheless spoke of determination. But this... this was not the man she remembered. That man would never have exposed himself to scandal like this. If his marriage to Narcissa had been more than twenty years, his relationship with Raven\'s mother Sylvia had been almost as long at what would have been twenty had she not died.



"No. She\'s not my mother. She killed my mother. Still, she\'s your son\'s mother. Have you thought what he will think of this?" she finally asked, reminding him subtly of both the wrongs Narcissa had committed against more than Raven, but also that there were more people to potentially be hurt by this. "The easiest path would be for you to forget me and not bother with the conflict. I\'m not really worth destroying your real family for. I\'m used to you leaving me for them, after all," she murmured, tears in her eyes as she remembered how much it had hurt as a child to know that he was going home to his real family, the one he took out in public and could be there for completely. At least until the Dark Lord had returned. She remembered the hurt that lurked in her mother\'s eyes when he left them, hurt she hadn\'t really understood as a child.







"Draco... Draco is a husk of the boy he once was," Lucius murmured sadly, "sometimes I doubt he\'d miss living let alone his own mother." He\'d at least had a previous taste of Azkaban, but Draco hadn\'t. He\'d been a pampered, spoiled boy and having all of that plus his dignity and pride stripped from him on top of his wand had been too much. It had shaken him to the core and Lucius wasn\'t sure he\'d ever recover from that.







Shaking aside such thoughts, he looked over at Raven, his eyes hard. "Narcissa has done a terrible thing to two innocents. She killed your mother, and she enslaved you. She needs to be punished for that. Whether the punishment is of your choosing or mine, whether it\'s murder or banishment, it will be done. Otherwise she will go after you again thinking you\'ve taken me away from her. Do you see where I\'m coming from now? She needs to be punished to protect you."







"Raven...." He sighed and slumped back against his chair, all pretenses, disguises and deceits gone. In their place sat a sad, tired, broken shell of a once very powerful man. "I loved your mother." His voice was low and soft. "I loved her very much. The both of you were my real family. You said that I would leave to go back to my real family, but that\'s hardly true. When I came home to you, I was coming home to my real life and when I left, I was leaving to return to a facade. Don\'t get me wrong, I love Draco, but he\'s very much his mother\'s son. Your mother and then eventually you...." he sighed and trailed off, mourning the loss of the only woman he\'d ever loved.





Raven hadn\'t really realized how much it had hurt all those years to be second best. Not consciously, at least. But seeing him like this, unguarded and... and hurt, too... she forgave him. She recognized he was human, only human and not the demi-god he\'d seemed to her as a child.



The healers had told her to rest, but they\'d never said she had to be confined to bed. Merely asked that she not leave her room and ring if she needed anything.



Gathering her courage, she offered him the only comfort she could. Slipping from under the scratchy hospital sheets in the linen gown they\'d given her, she winced as her feet hit the cold floor and took two painful steps to where Lucius sat, lost in his thoughts. Carefully, she lifted his hand from his leg and sat in his lap, laying her head on his shoulder like she had so often as a child and patting his cheek. "It\'s ok, Papa," she said softly. "You\'re still my Papa. You\'re the only family I have, now. We can chase away each other\'s nightmares. Just... please don\'t let them take me again." Her voice was quiet, and the tears and fear and pain she\'d suppressed were evident in the slight tremor, but she snuggled into him. He smelled the same, and her eyes closed as she searched for the safety and comfort he\'d offered as a child. When she found it, the tears started to flow in earnest, finding some release and comfort in her father\'s arms.



Still very mindful of the torture that had been inflicted upon her and very mindful of his movements, he wrapped his arms around his daughter and held her as tightly as he dared against him. He held her and rocked with her, murmuring reassurances and promises that everything would be alright. His heart was still broken for his broken girl but immediately began to heal at the nearly instant forgiveness she offered him that he at once craved and didn\'t deserve. "I\'ll never let them get you, princess," he whispered, his voice steely and determined. "Never. And now we can have a real family." The unspoken thought even if your mother couldn\'t be here with us hung heavy between them.



Leaning back a bit, he kissed her forehead and tucked her head under his chin. His hands never ceased in rubbing her back and his arms never grew tired of holding her. Half of him had died with Sylvia but he was still mostly whole thanks to Raven.



And that, of course, was the best Christmas present he could have asked for.