It was New Years Eve. While most of the villagers of a small country town were celebrating the end of a tumultuous year or counting down the minutes to the dawn of a new chapter, one man sat alone, hidden in a small cave in a nearby mountain with lines of worry, guilt and confusion etched upon his sharp, pale features.
He was Lucius Malfoy. A man despised by his fellow wizards and witches, a man forced to hide in the mountainous cave by the shames of his actions and his fugitive status, he had run to the caves where he sat contemplating the masses of thoughts and memories swirling through his brain.
He had been exiled to Azkaban a year and a half ago following his capture by Dumbledore in the Ministry, and had escaped barely two months ago. Fearful of his master's vengeance, he had immediately begged forgiveness and hastened to explain his failures. It had not been easy, he reflected, to gain forgiveness from the Dark Lord. Lucius had been punished most severely; he was still weak, two months later, from the effects of the Cruciatus curse.
But it had been worth it. He was thrilled to be back in his master’s good book, to be back where he could once again practise magic and feel real power, but most of all to be back to redeem his failures.
After sitting in Azkaban for over a year, Lucius had realised that it was his fault that his son, Draco, had been placed in such a dangerous situation. Had he not failed with the diary, or at the Ministry, he would have prevented the Dark Lord’s wrath and stopped Draco being used as a pawn in the plan to kill Dumbledore. He shook his head, the lines of guilt on his face being replaced by those of confusion as he explored every side of the issue. In any other situation, it should be an honour to have his son chosen. In fact, had Draco not failed his mission too, Lucius could even have been proud. To have his son, his son, murder the only real challenger of the Dark Lord (except that wretch of a boy, Harry Potter, and he was only alive out of pure luck)! But why had Draco failed? That question, along with reminders of his failure as a father, kept racing through his mind.
“What do you want, Lucius?” a voice from the entry to cave broke through his swirling thoughts.
He looked up. Framed by the starlight of the outer world, trickles of light catching her ice blonde hair, stood Lucius’ wife, and Draco’s mother, Narcissa.
Lucius had begged for Narcissa to meet him there. For months, she had been hiding Draco from him, hiding herself at times too. But tonight enough was enough; he wanted her forgiveness, he wanted to see his son again.
However, it wasn’t as simple as just apologising. Lucius was a hard man, devoid of any real emotion, and definitely not one to show his heart on his chest. So this quest for redemption was not set to be smooth.
“Narcissa,” he began monotonously, not meeting her eyes. “It is time to end this foolishness. I want to see Draco.”
Her cold eyes narrowed as she scoffed. “Do you think I am stupid? Do you think that I would ever allow you to poison my son again with your incompetence?”
“I have explained myself to you already, Narcissa. I have told you that my actions at the Ministry were inexcusable. I have apologised already; now again, end this foolishness and show me my son.” His voice grew louder as he tried to intimidate his wife.
Narcissa snarled and shook her hair angrily as she said: “And I have told you already that your word is mud. Stay away from me, Lucius. Stay away from our son.” She made to walk out of the cave.
Lucius’ heart skipped a beat. He had to do something, or she would leave, and with her take his hope to be a part of his son’s rise through the Death Eater ranks.
“Narcissa, wait!” He stood and faced her for the first time, his eyes still not meeting hers. “What about your allegiance to the Dark Lord? Do you question his decision to use Draco in his plan?” He didn’t know exactly why he had chosen this as a method of stopping Narcissa from leaving. Perhaps it had to do with the niggling thought in the back of his mind of the potential honour that Draco’s failure had disallowed. Or maybe, he just wanted a reaction.
Whatever his motives, he certainly did get a reaction. Narcissa spun around, an insulted and angry look upon her face. “You dare question my loyalty, Lucius? I, who while you were hiding in Azkaban, did the deeds my master commanded of me? I, who hid the Dark Lord’s most precious of secrets? Where were you, Lucius? Where were you when the Dark Lord needed supporters?”
“Where was I?” he roared. “I payed for my mistake, Narcissa! The Dark Lord has already forgiven my absence, it is not your duty to punish or question me too!” He moved closer to her, breathing heavily. “And while we are talking of duty, dear wife, was it your duty to run to Snape last year? You questioned the Dark Lord’s motives! You doubted him! That is not duty, Narcissa!”
Narcissa glared at her husband, anger emulating from her being. “What do you want from me, Lucius? Do you want me to be angry at you? Do you want me to argue with you over who is the better servant to the Dark Lord? Is that what you want? Tell me, Lucius!”
Her husband seemed to wilt before her eyes. He turned from her and said nothing for a few moments. Then, as if mustering all of his courage, he sighed and said, “I want your forgiveness. I want redemption. I never meant for this to go so wrong. I just want you to see that I am sorry and I want to see Draco again.”
Narcissa was silent. Lucius turned around again and for the first time, met her eyes.
“Cissy, please.”
At the mention of her nickname, she seemed to melt. A single tear rolled down her pale cheek as she opened her mouth as if to say something. Words escaped her, and so she closed her mouth. She nodded.
Lucius fell to her feet, emotions for once thawing his bitter heart. Redemption, he thought as the bells in the nearby town rang, there is nothing better.