When I Ruled The World

A/N: Hi, All! This is a one-shot based on the song Viva La Vida, by Coldplay. This fic was a challenge that LadyVoldemort87 and I set for ourselves. Her fic has already been posted. We ask that you read each one as a stand alone and do not compare them. This was a song that inspired both of us to try our hand at writing. Her fic is brilliant and I recommend it to you all to read.

Enjoy the story and remember, reveiws are always welcome!


I used to rule the world
Seas would rise when I gave the word
Now in the morning I sweep alone
Sweep the streets I used to own


Lucius Malfoy stood in the deserted hallways of the Ministry of Magic. Voldemort had just been beaten by Harry Potter. An ending Lucius could have predicted with his eyes closed. Walking down the long tile lined hallway, he was taken back to a time just 8 years ago.

Lucius Malfoy, resplendent in the most expensive robes money could buy, stepped out of the Floo network. His hair was neatly tied back in a leather queue and the smirk on his face said quite clearly that he was Malfoy. Nothing else was needed to describe the Malfoy patriarch. Brushing the remaining Floo powder of his shoulder he turned and headed towards the minister’s office. Unnoticed by Lucius people scurried to get out of his way. Never once did a smile of thanks grace his patrician features. He hardly paid attention to those below him, it was understood that he was above them and they should clear a path for him wherever he went.

Minister Fudge was waiting on him. They were to discuss the possible requirement of blood status as proof of identification before a student could gain an apparition license. All purebloods would be allowed to go first of course, as they had but the proof of their last name.

Arriving at Minister Fudge’s office he prepared to walk right in, as was his customary habit. Lucius never waited to be announced like the other bumbling ministry employees. Reaching for the doorknob it was pulled out of his grasp by none other than Arthur Weasley. Well, he thought with a smirk, speak of bumbling employees and they shall appear.

“Weasley,” He greeted with a very slight nod of his head. Taking in his shabby appearance, Lucius looked haughtily down on him. “You’re a blight on the spotless reputation of pureblood wizardry.” He drawled.

Snapping out of his reverie as he made his way towards the huge fountain in the atrium of the ministry, Lucius grimaced as the words he had spoken to Arthur Weasley echoed in his head. These last few years, the only blight on the reputation of wizardry was himself.

How had things gotten so immensely out of hand?

I used to roll the dice
Feel the fear in my enemies’ eyes
Listen as the crowd would sing
“Now the old king is dead; long live the king”


Was it only 2 short years ago that he was here at the ministry, chasing after the prophecy for a man that grew crazier by the day? Potter and his friends had stood up to him and the other Death Eaters. It was with respect that he thought of the Longbottom boy. He had stood up to Bellatrix, pride flashing fiercely in his eyes; revenge for his parents a thirst he longed to quench. Lucius admired that, standing up for ones family was a trait to be commended. Unfortunately it was one most would think poorly of him for. Especially as he had aligned himself with a madman.

But what could he have done? Once in service to the Dark Lord, always in service to the Dark Lord. He had been in his twenties when he had first joined Lord Voldemort’s ranks. It was not a hard choice to join back then. The young Lucius Malfoy had been blinded by the need to preserve the ways of the Purebloods, to eradicate those that didn’t belong, and to keep the name Malfoy synonymous with power, wealth, and blood superiority.

Had he really thought it enjoyable to torture other human beings? Never mind what their blood status was, how in the world could he have so ignorantly believed that what they were doing was acceptable, worthy even? Good Gods, he thought as he sat on a bench in the atrium, he had been quite the fool.

Once it had given him immense pleasure to be in control of another’s fate. To decide if they should live or die, to see the fear in their eyes as he tortured them, to see the waning hope as they realized there was no release from their pain. Sweet Merlin, was there no release from the guilt and remorse that ate away at him?


One minute I held the key
Next the walls all closed on me
And I discovered that my castles stand
Upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand


Rising from the bench Lucius made his way over to the visitor’s entrance. The phone booth mocked him with its cheery red paint and brightly illuminated sign that read “Phone Booth” in block letters. He was tempted, so very tempted to leave it all behind and start fresh somewhere else. It wasn’t as though money would be a problem, for generations the Malfoy’s had used the Muggle banking world to stash money away in many different countries. It was another of those hypocrisies that he had justified by saying it was the only way to keep that money untraceable by goblins.

He walked away from the booth, so lost in his reminiscing that he failed to see a lone figure step out of one of the fireplaces at the far end of the hall. He went up the grand staircase. His goal was the Department of Mysteries on the fourth floor. He could have used the elevator but felt the walk would help him gain control over his unstable emotions.

Once Lucius arrived at the door he took a deep steadying breath, and with trembling fingers pushed open the door. In the center of the room was the mysterious Veil. It was three stories tall and six feet wide. The center was made up of a swirling mist, a vortex if you will that led to places unimaginable to anyone but the Unspeakables that had worked there.

Making his way to the center of the room, Lucius recalled the night he was arrested with startling clarity. It had begun in the storage room where all the prophecies were kept. He had faced off with children, children that were the same age as Draco. Gods, Draco. Everything he had done was to protect him and none of it had worked out in Draco’s favor.

He had so badly wanted Potter to hand over the prophecy. It was the only way he could think to protect Draco from being forced to do Voldemort’s bidding. However, Potter was annoyingly stubborn, and Lucius had had to give chase along with a few other Death Eaters. If only Harry had handed over the prophecy Lucius would have made sure that he and his friends had made it out of there safely. It was not until he was facing off with Sirius Black that he had actually fired any spells. In the end it had not mattered, Sirius had fallen through the Veil and he along with a few other Death Eaters had been arrested and sent to Azkaban.


It was the wicked and wild wind
Blew down the doors to let me in
Shattered windows and the sound of drums
People couldn’t believe what I’d become


The figure of Lucius Malfoy in prison garb had been splashed all over the Daily Prophet. He had been on his knees in the dark prison filth. His prisoner ID number was held in one hand, his other arm was in a sling. There was a brace around his neck suggesting that he had not gone quietly. And he hadn’t. What father worth his salt would leave his only son to contend with a maniac? Narcissa had long been dead, some sort of dragon pox in Draco’s third year.

The year he had spent in Azkaban had been the longest, most worrisome period of Lucius’ life. Draco wrote regularly but there was not much he could say as aurors scanned each letter for clues as to Voldemort’s plan. Lucius had hung his head in defeat when he had finally been told of Draco’s mission to murder Dumbledore. How could he protect his son from that while he was in prison?

It was not until Severus Snape had come to see him in Azkaban with a proposition that Lucius had begun to see as way out for himself and his son. Severus had offered Lucius help and protection in exchange for Lucius becoming a spy for the light side. Lucius had readily agreed. His old friend had also been willing to take a wizard’s oath to help Draco if Lucius was not able to do so.

Once he had finally been free of Azkaban, Lucius opened his eyes to the reality of what the wizarding world thought of him. He was shunned, spit on, and ignored for the most part. Surprisingly, he was ok with that, except for the spitting part. It made doing his job easier then it might have been. People left him alone while he was out in public.

Back at the manor was a different story though. Lucius reflected upon his reaction to finding that the Dark Lord had taken over the manor as though it was his own. It was telling that he no longer worried over his things, just his son. Only his son.

Draco had appeared to be holding up rather well; although to anyone who looked deep enough the fear was there just under the surface.

As he contemplated the fact that Draco should have been playing Quidditch and chasing girls, Lucius had wound his way back down to the atrium and again sat on a low bench besides the fountain. His elbows were propped on his legs and his face was buried in his hands.

Would Draco ever forgive him? Could he ever make him understand the path that had led to his downfall? He felt as if he were a failure of a father. Thinking of Arthur Weasley again made him realize that Arthur knew exactly what it took to be a father. The love, care, respect, and pride, which he showered upon his children daily, was a testament to his superiority over Lucius in that field. Lucius had refrained from showing Draco any emotion for so long that he wasn’t sure if he could ever fix it.

Tears fell silently down the blonde’s face as he thought of all the lost time and missed opportunities he could’ve had with Draco. The tears flowed on in regret and remorse over the actions of his past. He knew that to ask for a second chance would be fruitless. He had made wrong choices and people often held long memories.

Lucius was startled out of his thoughts by a small hand on his shoulder. Raising his head he found himself staring in to the warm brown eyes of his wife, Hermione Jean Malfoy, nee Granger.


Revolutionaries wait
For my head on a silver plate
Just a puppet on a lonely string
Oh who would ever want to be king


It had been four months prior that Lucius Malfoy’s future was irrevocably changed. Entering the formal dining room, which had been changed to resemble a war room, he had stopped in his tracks when he had seen Hermione Granger bound and gagged and hanging in the air while Voldemort and Bellatrix and Dolohov cast stinging hexes and the like at her. Apparently she was to be toyed with before actually being tortured.

Shit, he had thought, now what did he do? Granger had known he was an unofficial Order member, he had also noticed her eyes widen slightly when he had walked into the room. To the others it was in fright, to him it was a plea for help. There wasn’t much he could’ve done except try to get the Dark Lord to give her to him in exchange for Lucius getting information about the Order of the Phoenix out of her.

It had taken hours of negotiating with Voldemort before he was satisfied with what he perceived to be Lucius’ plan to seduce information out of the girl. A house-elf had been summoned to bring her upstairs to be cleaned up and changed, then she had been brought back down to the dining room. Voldemort had told Lucius to stand next to her and to everyone’s great surprise requested the presence of a Wizengamot member who could officiate nuptials. To ensure that he got the information he needed, he had bound Lucius and Hermione for life. Lucius had failed him once, he would not let him do so again.

That was how Lucius had acquired a wife. The one that now stood before him.

“Are you alright, Lucius?” She asked, her eyes filled with concern. The past four months had been nothing short of exhausting. The constant lies to Voldemort, the planting of false information in Death Eater hands. And the nights. The nights had been theirs alone.

She had gone to Lucius a virgin, unskilled in the art of love. He had gone to her a man, both skilled and knowledgable in the ways to make a woman’s body sing. Her innocence pulled at him, brought him to his knees. His experience made her tremble. Their wedding night had been a tender affair. The entire night he had whispered sweet words meant to comfort as he seduced her body with his actions. She had gone willingly, never before had anyone made her feel so alive. He had watched her fly apart under his ministrations and she had been surprised and pleased to note that she had brought him such satisfaction as well. She had fallen asleep in his embrace as he whispered to her that he would do whatever it took keep her safe. From then on, no matter what each day wrought, Lucius and Hermione loved each night.

Looking down into her husband’s solemn grey eyes, she knew she would do anything to see him smile. She had grown to love him in these last few months and it hurt her so to watch him grieve for his past.

Wrapping his hands on either side of her waist he pulled her forward so that she was between his legs and his head was resting against her abdomen.

“Draco?” He asked.

“He is fine. I left him in the Great Hall assisting the aurors with identifying the names of the captured Death Eaters. What is all this about, Lucius? You left the moment word was given that Voldemort was dead.”

“I realized that I no longer need to live in fear for myself and my family anymore. It all became a bit much so I got out of there. I needed some space.”

They stayed that way for some time. Each was quietly content with the other’s presence. Lucius lifted his head once more and stared into eyes of the pretty witch who had occupied his nights and his heart the last four months. She was young and deserved so much more than he could ever offer. More than he could ever be. Now was the time to cut the ties.

“Hermione, you are young still. You deserve so much more than I can give. I am just…”

Hermione placed her hands on either side of his face. “You can talk all you want about what I deserve. You still won’t get rid of us that easily. I know you, Lucius, I know who you were, I know who you are, and I know who you will be. You are my husband, you are Draco’s father and you are the father of the child that is still just a small speck of life that lives beneath my heart.” His eyes focused sharply on her belly and he brought a hand around to rest across it.

Hermione smiled at the gesture and continued to speak, “Lucius, I love you. I love all of you. Your past, our present, and the future of our child. That’s what this war was truly about, love and acceptance.”

Lucius had stared directly into Hermione’s eyes as she spoke. He couldn’t believe that she would offer him this second chance at love, at life, at fatherhood. Perhaps there were some redeeming qualities that he had. He pulled her down on his lap and wrapped her tightly in his embrace.

“I don’t deserve you, love, but I am never giving you up. I love you.” Lucius buried his face in her hair as she cried. Her tears were a mixture of sadness for the senseless loss of life, and joy for they had survived together and would build a family based on their love.

Lucius glanced around the ministry a final time. The ministry that he had once owned once held the key to. Now he shook his head as stood to apparate himself and his wife to the gates of Hogwarts. It was time to collect Draco and take his family home. Who would ever want to be king?