The dying embers of the fire cast a faint glow in the cavernous room. The lone sparks of light in the black, gaping mouth of the fireplace eerily illuminated the armchair a mere five feet away, before dissipating once more into darkness. A shadowy figure knelt before the chair, head bowed in silence, only the slightest twitch of its fingers betraying any nervousness.

“You have done well,” a clear cold voice said at last from the depths of the chair. The figure winced at the voice, chilled as though a hundred icicles had been plunged deep into his heart, before relaxing ever so slightly as the meaning of the words sunk into the icy thaw. Once again, only the long slender fingers betrayed any tension as they clenched before forcing themselves open once again. “Yes,” the voice continued, “despite past… inattention, you have remained faithful.”

The silence stretched on and on, longer this time before snapping as the embers settled with a crackling pop. Jolted from his reverie, the shadow began to babble, wrong-footed by praise where he expected censure. “Thank you, master,” his silken haughty voice tamed by fear and respect. “I live to serve, to do what I can…”

“There is one thing you must do,” the cold voice interrupted, weary of such recitals of undying devotion. “There is one who has failed me, and in doing so he has betrayed us all. He is a traitor and he deserves to die.”

“Tell me but who and I will carry it out willingly, master,” he said, excitement creeping into his voice. “If he has betrayed you he has betrayed us all and is not worthy of life.”

A cruel laugh boiled up from the chair, a laugh that would raise the hair on the back of the toughest alley cat, a laugh that didn’t care who lived or died because the joke was on you anyway. One long white finger, more like bone than flesh, reached out to point at the supplicant shadow.

“The traitor,” it said with loathsome malice, “is your son.”
----------------------------------

He waited in the doorframe, a collar pulled high as much to shield him from the ruthless cut of the wind as to hide his face from sight. The wood of the door was rough, and pressed through the layers of fabric to the skin below. If he stood here much longer he should have a lovely set of bruises running from his hip bone to his shoulder. Soon, he kept telling himself, he’ll be here soon.

A shuffling noise occurred across the street, and he turned with anticipation in time to see two brawling drunks thrown out of a bar. They scuffled momentarily before noting the lateness of the hour and the steadily rising fog and then each scuttling his own way down some alley, or off to catch the last train home. He sighed in disappointment and turned back, only to find himself face to face with the person he had been waiting to meet.

Holding back his gasp of surprise, he took a deep breath to still his heart then said reproachfully, “you’re late.”

“I was busy.” The man pulled the concealing scarf away from his face enough to talk easily, and pushed up the brim of his hat so it no longer shielded his eyes from view.

“It has been done.”

“You are sure?”

“Yes.”

“Then we will be ready. Everything will go according to plan. Provided you can hold up your side.”

“You worry about your part and I’ll worry about mine,” he snapped waspishly.

“Fine. I don’t believe we shall see you until then?”

“No.”

“Very well. Until then."

“ ‘Til then. And don’t be late!”

Both figures trudged off into the thickening fog until they were mere inky smudges in the misty curtain of the coming night.
------------------------------

Lucius ran a hand nervously over his head, smoothing down his already perfect hair, while peering into the mirror for the hundredth time. It had to be tonight. He had put it off far too long already, waiting a full day when the victim was already unknowing in his grasp. I mustn’t let Narcissa know, he reminded himself. I mustn’t let Narcissa see. She just won’t understand, she never has… women! He mentally threw his hands up in the air, before pocketing his wand and heading downstairs.

Soft murmuring was coming from the front parlor, the inviting glow of the lamps in the dusky air pulling him in. Draco leaned over the edge of his mother’s chair, whispering in her ear while Narcissa listened, the barest hint of a smile on her lips. It was the very picture of domesticity, only to vanish an instant later as the softest thump of his foot on the wooden floor broke into the pleasant silence.

Draco jumped and flushed a light red before quickly turning and walking to a window where he could hide his face from any prying eyes. My eyes, Lucius suddenly thought with a start.

“You needn’t stop your conversation because of me,” he said mildly sitting down in his usual chair. A noncommittal noise came from the window, but no further speech followed. Lucius cocked one eyebrow and looked to Narcissa for explanation.

“Draco has been having a little trouble with Pansy lately. Nothing much, just usual adolescent things, and he came to me for advice. I did recommend…”

Lucius stopped listening as she prattled on about heaven only knows what. It wouldn’t be a problem after tonight. Tonight. He sighed in remembrance.

“Lucius, darling, is anything wrong?”

Quickly he pulled himself together. “No, nothing. It’s dinner time; I’m sure I’ll feel better once I have eaten. Come, Draco.”

“I’m not hungry.” And with all the attitude a teenager, although practically a man now, could possibly muster, he slouched out and started down the hall.

“Where are you going, young man?” Narcissa demanded in her most commanding voice.

“Out.”

“Draco Malfoy, you come back in here right this minute!”

The front door slammed in response. “I’ll go after him dear,” Lucius said, hand gingerly wrapping around his wand. Without waiting for a response, he hurled himself out the door and after Draco who was already fifty feet away across the yard. Do it. Now is the perfect time, it’s just one little spell, ready? On the count of three then. One, two…

And the world exploded into madness. There were people everywhere, surrounding Draco. Lucius could hear him yelling. Or was it someone else? He ran faster and faster towards the fracas, before realizing that it was only three people, three very familiar people who were assaulting his son.

“Traitor! You killed him!”

“I didn’t!"

“You as good as did! You evil, evil, bloody git!”

A pair of startlingly green eyes bored into Lucius for a moment before shouting out an order. And suddenly Lucius was left alone with the grass and the sky, and a sobbing Narcissa who heard the shouting and had not been in time to reach her baby boy.
-----------------------------

The last flicker, the last tongue of flame in the grate had extinguished long ago. The cold grey ashes swirled in the fireplace like the breath of the dead before settling once more. Lucius watched them through his hooded eyes, waiting and wondering.

He had sent Narcissa to bed; he had no patience for her tears. All he knew was that his time was running out, and he had not yet fulfilled his mission.

A rustle broke his concentration. A cloaked figure was moving past the door, the light glinting off of a loose strand of golden hair.

“Narcissa?”

The figure started in surprise, before pushing back the hood with one perfectly manicured hand. “Yes Lucius?”

“What are you doing?”

“I was just going out.” She wrung her hands nervously and refused to meet his eyes.

“Narcissa.” It wasn’t a request this time.

Quickly a trembling hand reached into a pocket and pulled out a parchment square. She held it to her breast for a moment before forcing herself to hand it over. In a quaking voice that threatened to descend into tears at any moment she began to explain. “An owl came, an hour ago, and after reading this… If there was any chance I could save my Draco… Oh, Lucius, my poor boy, my poor baby boy…”

With a few muttered words, he checked the parchment for spells or hexes before reading its message. Once, then twice, and then once again, still not believing what good fortune was in front of him.

Madam,
I will begin this message by telling you truthfully that I have never cared for your husband or your son and am not going to pretend otherwise. However, I cannot reconcile what they are going to do to Draco as right, and I believe only their grief and thirst for vengeance has prevented common sense from prevailing so far. Harry is not an evil person. I believe, if you will come and ask, he will release Draco to you. Even now, he will not be able to refuse a mother’s loving plea. For Draco’s sake, please come. I cannot let Harry go through with this, I know he will torture himself about it for years to come if he succeeds. Please. We are in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Despite the currant abandonment of the school, the apparation and dissaperation wards are still strong. You will have to enter by the front gate.
Hermione Granger

In the shadowed light, Lucius’s smile looked almost feral. “We will go at once.”
-------------------------------

The Manor sat, dark in the valley, without a single light glowing within. Alone, it looked deserted, like a place from a fairy tale, and not one of the happy ones. A place where anything could happen, a place where tears would be shed. Perhaps it was already crying them behind its darkened eyes.

A light began to grow, deep inside the house. No brighter than a copper fleck one moment and then a raging torrent of red gold the next. Engulfing the house, consuming it bit by bit, the orange tongues devour, gorging yet never sating their hunger. The dark smudge of smoke above the melted into the flames, but even its pervasive inkiness could not smother this tiger.

And high above, on the hill a pair of eyes the color of ashes, cold and distant, dispassionately watched as the house gave a dying shudder and burned to the ground.
----------------------

Lucius retched, the anti-Apparation wards were strong, and he had come in to close to their boundaries. Dimly he was aware of Narcissa collapsed on the ground at his feet, coughing as she choked on a bit of her own bile.

“We came in too close,” she managed to gasp at last, echoing his thoughts.

“I know!” he snarled, and she flinched from the inadvertent movement of his hand. “Let’s go.”

The gates towered over them, the iron cold bitingly cold to Lucius’s bare palm. With a shove they opened enough to admit him and he slipped through. Narcissa followed, stumbling on the hem of her robe; Lucius ignored her. Quickly he whispered a short spell and a small ghost-like mist spilled out of his wand. It flew into the night sky and disappeared. Lucius waited. At times like this, patience was more important than speed, caution would prevent mistakes.

After only a few minutes it returned before swirling into his hand. Spreading itself thinner and thinner it created a plate in front of him. Four dots, heavy silver swirls, clustered together. Fools, Lucius thought, clenching his fist until the mist squeezed though his fingers and dissipated into the air. So trusting. I have won already and you don’t even know it.

At last he realized Narcissa was waiting for an answer. “They are in the Great Hall. No one else is on the grounds. There is no trap.”

She nodded, her eyes wide with fear. “I may go to my boy?"

In response he turned and began walking up the hill to the castle. She hurried after.

The main door was barred, but a simple alohamora soon cleared that obstacle. Murmurings, the barest unintelligible whispers could be heard from the Great hall. Lucius strode forward, but Narcissa was there first. Running, she flung open the door and threw herself into the room. “Give me my boy!”

As the last echoes from her cry drifted in the rafters, all motion had frozen. Harry held Draco by the scruff of his neck one hand drawn back, arrested at the height of his motion. Hermione stood, hands extended in pleading, distress written across her face. Ron stood between the two, loyalties clearly torn, unsure of who to side with this time.

Narcissa saw none of it. Her eyes fixed on Draco’s, holding them in a mother’s steady gaze. I came, they said, I came for you my darling. His eyes mellowed in return, relief coursing through his body.

Lucius took this all in with a glance, but he had no time to spare with foolish feelings of regret. He had a job to do. “Give me my son, Potter.”

The moment was broken, Harry’s hand snapped to his side, producing his wand almost from thin air. “Why? What would you want with this worthless piece of scum anyway? Isn’t he better off dead?” A flurry of red sparks shot from the tip of the wand. Narcissa moaned at the threat, swaying in a half faint.

Lucius waved one hand contemptuously as the sparks drifted past him and out the door, into the night. “Is that the best you can do?”

Harry released Draco, who fell to the floor coughing and gasping. Snapping into dueling position, his eyes gleamed with malice. “Try me,” he challenged, his voice a deadly threat.

Lucius hesitated. As much as he would love to teach the Potter brat a lesson, getting back Draco, fulfilling his mission, was more important. They faced each other, each reluctant to make the first move. Suddenly, Lucius noticed movement at Harry’s feet. Draco had reclaimed his composure and was even now inching toward Potter’s feet.

With a flying leap, Draco knocked the other boy down, and after a quick tussle, wrenched the wand from Harry’s hand. Aiming straight for the heart, he looked daggers at the boy who had been his captor. Harry lay perfectly still. He looked smaller, but his face even now refused to accept defeat. Almost imperceptibly he nodded to Draco.

“Expelliarmus!”

Lucius looked with shock at his empty hand. His wand was gone, and Draco’s had suddenly turned to point at him. Quietly, in the background, Ron pocketed the wand which had flown into a dark corner while Hermione helped Harry to his feet.

A hand fell on Draco’s shoulder. “Good job, mate,” Harry muttered in his ear as the trio flanked him, wands at the ready.

At last Lucius found his voice. “Draco, what… why are you… what is going on?”

“I’m sorry, father. But I’m taking what's left of this family out of danger."

Unsure, Lucius turned to the silent form of his wife behind him. No surprise could be seen on her face, only sorrow. “Cissa?”

“I love my son,” she said simply. “Goodbye, Lucius.” And with that, she walked to join the group around her son.

Behind him, Lucius heard the doors to the Great hall being thrown open. The faintest stirrings of hope began. Whoever it is will help, the dark lord must know… He turned.

A group of grim faced Aurors returned his glare. Quickly they surrounded him, wands at the ready. Fear took him. “Why?” he croaked. “How can you expect to get away with this?”

“I don’t,” Draco said simply. “Which is why mother and I perished in the fire which burnt Malfoy Manor to the ground an hour ago. There were no survivors. A pity about the house, but it couldn’t be helped. Goodbye father.”

“You are no son of mine!"

Draco watched as the Aurors wrestled his protesting father out the door. He had done what he must to survive. And the taste of betrayal was like ashes in his mouth.