Out of that Bloody Strain
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Harry Potter › General
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Adult +
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Category:
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,408
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Out of that Bloody Strain
Update 10/05/05: As per the new rules, I\'m adding a disclaimer here.
Disclaimer: Pursuant to copyright law, I acknowledge that I own none of the characters, concepts, or other related material in Harry Potter. I make no money from the writing of fan fiction based on the property of others.
Author\'s Note: I marked this story \"Incest\" because it\'s implied. There\'s no actual D/L here. Also, this story was originally posted on the LiveJournal community blond_azkaban. *Exit author*
Your brother kings and monarchs of the earth
Do all expect that you should rouse yourself,
As did the former lions of your blood.
Henry V, Act I scene ii
Draco knew his father seldom pulled the study door entirely shut, so when he pressed gently it opened without a sound. He drew his wand and slipped through the narrow opening. Lucius was not at his desk; Draco moved forward slowly.
A strong arm was suddenly around his throat, another at his back. He croaked in surprise.
“I knew this day would come,” Lucius murmured. “I had not expected it to be so soon.”
Draco struggled feebly against his father’s firm hold, knowing that if he did not turn the tables it was the end of him. He gagged noisily as Lucius tightened his grip. It was a sleeper hold, and already Draco could feel the throbbing in his temples.
“Did you come upon this idea by yourself, or did the Dark Lord send you on this errand?”
“The Dark Lord,” Draco gasped. Lucius shifted so his hand was around Draco’s throat, granting the young man more breathing room but not giving any ground.
“Voldemort is cleverer every day,” Lucius whispered. “He knows I will not kill my own son.”
“Father,” Draco began.
“Shush. You foolish child. You know you’re not strong enough to face me yet. You should have poisoned me at dinner or killed me in my sleep. This cat-footing around with your wand out is not your style.”
“I should not have presumed.”
“No, indeed you should not.” Lucius pushed Draco away from him roughly, closing the door behind him and locking it. Draco rubbed at his throat, his eyes betraying his fear. Lucius glared at him. “Sit down, boy,” he ordered. Draco sat.
“Sir, I apologize for my impertinence.”
“I don’t want your apologies, Draco.” Lucius leaned on his desk almost wearily. “The Dark Lord wishes one of us dead tonight, and I swore long ago that when this time came it would not be you.”
Draco folded his hands over his wand, watching his father intently.
“Before you kill me, Draco, there are certain things I wish you to know.”
“Father, I have failed. You should kill me.”
“One of us must carry the name,” Lucius thundered, throwing a ledger to the floor. His voice gentled. “And it will not be me. The Dark Lord would not have sent you if I had not begun to outlive my usefulness. I would rather it end like this.”
Draco had never heard the note of sorrow that rang in Lucius’ voice. He set his wand on the arm of the chair.
“I am not a religious man, Draco, but I will not die unconfessed. You are my son and my heir, and I will leave you not only my estate but the knowledge of my sins.” Lucius rubbed his temple.
“I was not always in line to become Lord Malfoy,” he said. He looked for a moment very old and very tired, like the years had ridden him hard.
He left the desk and took the chair across from Draco. The younger Malfoy remained half-frozen, uncertain as to what his father might do.
“I had an older brother who was to take the family seat when our father died. His name was Phocion, and he was as fine a man as I ever knew.” Lucius reached into a robe pocket and pulled out a long knife, which he set on the small table between them. “He was twenty and I eighteen when we joined the Death Eaters, at our father’s urgings. I took a liking to it immediately, skulking around in the dark with my face hidden. Among Lord Voldemort’s followers, I was no longer merely a second son. I rose very quickly in the ranks.”
“What of your brother?” Draco asked. “Did he not advance?”
“No. Phocion had no taste for killing or plotting. He wanted to leave the group, to return to his life here at the manor. Phocion was betrothed to your mother, in order that we might cement an alliance between our house and the Blacks. But he cared little for the idea of marriage, or for Narcissa.”
Lucius trailed his fingers idly over the hilt of the knife, drawing it gently from its scabbard.
“The Dark Lord would not allow him to leave us. He knew too many of our secrets. And I had become jealous of him, and the praise he garnered from our father. I wanted to prove myself to Lord Voldemort. I wanted to be Lord Malfoy and take Narcissa for my own. The Dark Lord noticed this and he had me brought before him much as I’m sure he had you.”
He unbuttoned his collar and slipped off his cravat, setting it on the arm of the chair. He stood and took off his robe next, leaving him in his waistcoat. Draco watched this with silent curiosity. Lucius settled back into his chair and regarded his son coolly.
“He told me the time had come for new blood to replace old. My father had grown resentful of the Dark Lord’s power, and he and Phocion were a threat to our success. When I returned home that night, I knew what I must do.”
“Father,” Draco said. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say next, but Lucius silenced him and removed the need.
“My father gave me that knife when I graduated from Hogwarts,” he said, gesturing. He had unbuttoned the top of his waistcoat and now a deep V of his flesh lay bare. “I slit his throat with it in the master bedroom. Phocion was asleep in first son’s quarters, the ones you use now, and I slipped in.” Lucius’ eyes were fixed somewhere far away, and his lips moved only slightly as he spoke.
“I was furious. I stabbed him again and again, screaming myself hoarse about first blood. New blood, as his splashed onto my clothes. When I reported back to Lord Voldemort, I was still soaked in it, my cheeks stained with my tears. It was that night that I was promoted to the Dark Lord’s right hand, a position you will probably assume when I am gone.”
Draco stood uneasily, picking up his wand. Lucius sat back in his chair.
“Not like that,” he said. His tone was not pleading, but his eyes were. “It’s too clean, more than I deserve. Use this.” He picked up the knife and held it out.
Draco took it from his father’s hand, swallowing at the tension in his throat. Lucius leaned back against the cushions, baring his neck. He closed his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Father.”
“So am I, Draco.”
The younger Malfoy bent to kiss his father on first one cheek and then the other. He could see tears straining at Lucius’ closed lids and was surprised to feel his own eyes sting. Draco turned the knife in his hands, uncertain for a moment. He put his hand on Lucius’ shoulder, and he could feel the older man tremble. Draco placed the tip of the knife at his father’s throat, just under his chin.
“Forgive me.”
“I already have,” Lucius said softly. “Make it quick.”
Draco thrust home swiftly and with all his strength, driving the blade through his father’s neck and severing his spine. A brief gush of blood warmed his fingers, and Lucius made a softly gurgling sound, but that was all. His eyes opened as the blade entered his flesh, and Draco pressed them closed once more. He kissed his father’s mouth with trembling lips, smoothing the long blond hair away from his face. The he gently withdrew the knife, glittering ruby with his father’s blood. His blood, Draco thought. He wiped his hand and the blade on Lucius’ handkerchief and slipped it back into the older man’s pocket. The knife he took with him, putting it into his robe. Lucius looked almost as though he were merely napping in his chair, if one did not look too closely, his head lolled to one side.
“I love you,” Draco said. “I’m so sorry.”
He unlocked the door to the study and slipped out, leaving Lucius alone, the slow stain of his blood spreading down his white shirt. Draco was Lord Malfoy now, and the Dark Lord’s right hand. New blood had replaced old. Draco closed the door softly behind him and walked down the grand staircase to meet his destiny.
Disclaimer: Pursuant to copyright law, I acknowledge that I own none of the characters, concepts, or other related material in Harry Potter. I make no money from the writing of fan fiction based on the property of others.
Author\'s Note: I marked this story \"Incest\" because it\'s implied. There\'s no actual D/L here. Also, this story was originally posted on the LiveJournal community blond_azkaban. *Exit author*
Your brother kings and monarchs of the earth
Do all expect that you should rouse yourself,
As did the former lions of your blood.
Henry V, Act I scene ii
Draco knew his father seldom pulled the study door entirely shut, so when he pressed gently it opened without a sound. He drew his wand and slipped through the narrow opening. Lucius was not at his desk; Draco moved forward slowly.
A strong arm was suddenly around his throat, another at his back. He croaked in surprise.
“I knew this day would come,” Lucius murmured. “I had not expected it to be so soon.”
Draco struggled feebly against his father’s firm hold, knowing that if he did not turn the tables it was the end of him. He gagged noisily as Lucius tightened his grip. It was a sleeper hold, and already Draco could feel the throbbing in his temples.
“Did you come upon this idea by yourself, or did the Dark Lord send you on this errand?”
“The Dark Lord,” Draco gasped. Lucius shifted so his hand was around Draco’s throat, granting the young man more breathing room but not giving any ground.
“Voldemort is cleverer every day,” Lucius whispered. “He knows I will not kill my own son.”
“Father,” Draco began.
“Shush. You foolish child. You know you’re not strong enough to face me yet. You should have poisoned me at dinner or killed me in my sleep. This cat-footing around with your wand out is not your style.”
“I should not have presumed.”
“No, indeed you should not.” Lucius pushed Draco away from him roughly, closing the door behind him and locking it. Draco rubbed at his throat, his eyes betraying his fear. Lucius glared at him. “Sit down, boy,” he ordered. Draco sat.
“Sir, I apologize for my impertinence.”
“I don’t want your apologies, Draco.” Lucius leaned on his desk almost wearily. “The Dark Lord wishes one of us dead tonight, and I swore long ago that when this time came it would not be you.”
Draco folded his hands over his wand, watching his father intently.
“Before you kill me, Draco, there are certain things I wish you to know.”
“Father, I have failed. You should kill me.”
“One of us must carry the name,” Lucius thundered, throwing a ledger to the floor. His voice gentled. “And it will not be me. The Dark Lord would not have sent you if I had not begun to outlive my usefulness. I would rather it end like this.”
Draco had never heard the note of sorrow that rang in Lucius’ voice. He set his wand on the arm of the chair.
“I am not a religious man, Draco, but I will not die unconfessed. You are my son and my heir, and I will leave you not only my estate but the knowledge of my sins.” Lucius rubbed his temple.
“I was not always in line to become Lord Malfoy,” he said. He looked for a moment very old and very tired, like the years had ridden him hard.
He left the desk and took the chair across from Draco. The younger Malfoy remained half-frozen, uncertain as to what his father might do.
“I had an older brother who was to take the family seat when our father died. His name was Phocion, and he was as fine a man as I ever knew.” Lucius reached into a robe pocket and pulled out a long knife, which he set on the small table between them. “He was twenty and I eighteen when we joined the Death Eaters, at our father’s urgings. I took a liking to it immediately, skulking around in the dark with my face hidden. Among Lord Voldemort’s followers, I was no longer merely a second son. I rose very quickly in the ranks.”
“What of your brother?” Draco asked. “Did he not advance?”
“No. Phocion had no taste for killing or plotting. He wanted to leave the group, to return to his life here at the manor. Phocion was betrothed to your mother, in order that we might cement an alliance between our house and the Blacks. But he cared little for the idea of marriage, or for Narcissa.”
Lucius trailed his fingers idly over the hilt of the knife, drawing it gently from its scabbard.
“The Dark Lord would not allow him to leave us. He knew too many of our secrets. And I had become jealous of him, and the praise he garnered from our father. I wanted to prove myself to Lord Voldemort. I wanted to be Lord Malfoy and take Narcissa for my own. The Dark Lord noticed this and he had me brought before him much as I’m sure he had you.”
He unbuttoned his collar and slipped off his cravat, setting it on the arm of the chair. He stood and took off his robe next, leaving him in his waistcoat. Draco watched this with silent curiosity. Lucius settled back into his chair and regarded his son coolly.
“He told me the time had come for new blood to replace old. My father had grown resentful of the Dark Lord’s power, and he and Phocion were a threat to our success. When I returned home that night, I knew what I must do.”
“Father,” Draco said. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say next, but Lucius silenced him and removed the need.
“My father gave me that knife when I graduated from Hogwarts,” he said, gesturing. He had unbuttoned the top of his waistcoat and now a deep V of his flesh lay bare. “I slit his throat with it in the master bedroom. Phocion was asleep in first son’s quarters, the ones you use now, and I slipped in.” Lucius’ eyes were fixed somewhere far away, and his lips moved only slightly as he spoke.
“I was furious. I stabbed him again and again, screaming myself hoarse about first blood. New blood, as his splashed onto my clothes. When I reported back to Lord Voldemort, I was still soaked in it, my cheeks stained with my tears. It was that night that I was promoted to the Dark Lord’s right hand, a position you will probably assume when I am gone.”
Draco stood uneasily, picking up his wand. Lucius sat back in his chair.
“Not like that,” he said. His tone was not pleading, but his eyes were. “It’s too clean, more than I deserve. Use this.” He picked up the knife and held it out.
Draco took it from his father’s hand, swallowing at the tension in his throat. Lucius leaned back against the cushions, baring his neck. He closed his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Father.”
“So am I, Draco.”
The younger Malfoy bent to kiss his father on first one cheek and then the other. He could see tears straining at Lucius’ closed lids and was surprised to feel his own eyes sting. Draco turned the knife in his hands, uncertain for a moment. He put his hand on Lucius’ shoulder, and he could feel the older man tremble. Draco placed the tip of the knife at his father’s throat, just under his chin.
“Forgive me.”
“I already have,” Lucius said softly. “Make it quick.”
Draco thrust home swiftly and with all his strength, driving the blade through his father’s neck and severing his spine. A brief gush of blood warmed his fingers, and Lucius made a softly gurgling sound, but that was all. His eyes opened as the blade entered his flesh, and Draco pressed them closed once more. He kissed his father’s mouth with trembling lips, smoothing the long blond hair away from his face. The he gently withdrew the knife, glittering ruby with his father’s blood. His blood, Draco thought. He wiped his hand and the blade on Lucius’ handkerchief and slipped it back into the older man’s pocket. The knife he took with him, putting it into his robe. Lucius looked almost as though he were merely napping in his chair, if one did not look too closely, his head lolled to one side.
“I love you,” Draco said. “I’m so sorry.”
He unlocked the door to the study and slipped out, leaving Lucius alone, the slow stain of his blood spreading down his white shirt. Draco was Lord Malfoy now, and the Dark Lord’s right hand. New blood had replaced old. Draco closed the door softly behind him and walked down the grand staircase to meet his destiny.