How softly Lucius and Voldemort landed on the ground was unbelievable. Lucius was still sure that he was in a dream, a trance of some sort. He had not even looked around, he had not even tried to experience the "beauty." How strange a dream it was that the Dark Lord would come to him and persuade him to "relish it, grab hold of it!"
"Do you recognize this house, Lucius?" Voldemort asked, softly, slowly, in a voice quite unlike the one Lucius used to know.
That house … he did recognize it! It was … no, how could the Dark Lord know?
When he and Narcissa had just had Draco, they had lived in a different house; this house. The memories from this house, of happier times, had been locked away in a deep, dark, corner of his mind in which he never dared venture.
"Come inside," Voldemort said, wrapping his hand around the doorknob, "and witness this for yourself."
"But I've already been here!" said Lucius. "I've already seen this, I've already done this. I need not go back!"
"I beg to differ," said Voldemort. "You are in dire need of going back to this moment to see what Christmas were like when you are happier."
"Please!" begged Lucius. "I do not want to go back."
"Perhaps," said Voldemort, "you should have considered that before you started being such a bad sport about Christmas. Let us go." He started to ever-so-slightly twitch his wrist so that the doorknob turned.
"Wait!" cried Lucius, though trying to keep his voice down. "Won't they see us?" he asked. but if this was true, how had he never noticed.
"Don't worry," said Voldemort, "we're fine." He opened the door and it was like walking into a furnace because of the difference in temperature. It was cold, very cold, on the outside, but inside, a fire burned bright, toasting all inside.
"Lucius," Narcissa told the Lucius from the memory, "this is so nice." She hugged her baby, little Draco, tighter. She looked genuinely happy to be here; happy to be alive. It was so different than the Narcissa that Lucius knew now. He looked away, as seeing her like this was too much to bear. He had not wanted to relive these memories. He had already chosen his path; he must not go back. What was the point? He couldn't go back and change anything, so wouldn't it be more useful to find some way to live with things the way that they already were?
"I don't want to go back," the memory Lucius said. Lucius remembered having said this line; he had known it was coming. A main part of this night that grabbed at his brain was the fact that he had told his wife that he did not want to go back and serve the Dark Lord. It was a sentence, even if it was merely just that, that was more important than anything else he had said that night. It was a sign of regret, and to him, regret almost always meant that you were not happy with the way things were, and you would find a way to change things. But Lucius had not changed things. He had gone back to serve the Dark Lord, he had abandoned his son with his wife, and he had done what, in his heart, he knew was not right. That had made all the difference.
"Then don't, Lucius," Narcissa said. Her eyes, surprisingly soft and tender, gazed into his, and it was a look that should have convinced him never to leave. But he had not. He had gone and served the Dark Lord.
"Narcissa, I can't just refuse to go. The Dark Lord will find me, hunt me down, and things will have been worse off than they were before!" the memory Lucius said, his temper rising. Lucius wondered how Voldemort felt, standing here, listening to a conversation about himself. As Lucius snuck a peak over at him, he looked taken aback indeed, and he looked very sad, something Lucius had never seen in that cold face before. Of course, it had turned unnervingly warm, something Lucius still wasn't quite sure that he could handle.
"Tell the Dark Lord! He will understand!" Narcissa said, and with her surprisingly fierce tone, baby Draco looked up, confused. His eyes … they were so … what was the word people used? Was it cute? They were so warm, and big, just observing the world for the first time, the world that his parents were setting a bad example of.
"How could he understand? Are you joking with me? This is no time for a joke; this is a serious matter, and I am shocked at how you are -"
"Relax, Lucius! Maybe he won't understand, but -"
"Even if I brought up the idea, he would laugh in my face! He would make fun of me, and he would find it funny that the question even came up! I cannot afford to lose what I have now! It is the only reason we are still here!" The baby started to cry, just a little whimper, and Lucius and Narcissa both looked down.
"Lucius, I understand. It's no use. I don't know what I was thinking. I just … I've had such a great time with you and Draco. I don't want you to go. Draco doesn't want you to go. It would be so much better. But I know; there's nothing we can do," Narcissa said, and her eyes slowly started to fill up with tears.
"I wish I could stay, too. I really do. But in the better interest of this family, I have to go. Worse things will happen. Let's just enjoy the time we have here now, Narcissa, instead of using our precious time to grieve over what could have been."
With that, they snuggled together, the happy family of three. Baby Draco's eyes lit up as his parents cuddled over him, and the Christmas could not have been warmer.
Lucius and Voldemort carefully opened the door and walked back outside.
"Don't you wish that you could have that same experience now, Lucius? Looking back on that, don't you wish you could do that?"
"Of course I do, but there is nothing I can do now! We can't just simply do that, so much has to happen!" said Lucius. He did, very much so, wish that he could go back to that moment and make it happen again right now. But, as he had said, it was just not that simple. You couldn't just do whatever you wanted these days … his family had been broken apart so much already. There was too much needed to be done to make this Christmas like that one.
"No, it doesn't. Just gather 'round your family; they will understand!" said Voldemort, hoping this was true. After all he would not know himself. He only hoped that this was true. Having seen that Christmas, Voldemort was more than ashamed. He was extremely upset that he had such a big impact on making their Christmas like that. What would the Malfoy family's Christmases have been like if Lucius had never served him?
But he did not want to think about that … he was here to do one thing and one thing only.
"They will not just understand! I can't just gather up my family and say 'Merry Christmas!' They aren't like that! They would look at me like I am a madman!"
"And maybe you are!" exclaimed Voldemort. "Maybe you are a madman for sulking here for what could have been without even trying to fix things! You said you would give anything to go back to that Christmas, so why not try? What would be so bad about that?" asked Voldemort.
"And what would you know about trying things? You never just tried things. You could've killed Harry Potter much sooner if you would've tried more things. But you had to be the one to do it, or it was a bad time, or you gave another excuse like that! Why should I take an example from you?" Lucius asked, exhausted from arguing and having to go back to that memory.
Voldemort was completely shocked and spoke only in a hushed whisper. "You will see. When you end up like me, Lucius, you will see." Lucius sighed.
"And why is this any different for me?" asked Lucius. "Wasn't everyone affected by the Battle? Hasn't everyone's family been changed? Why is it me that you chose to do this to? You never had any respect for me."
"I regret that Lucius, I do. I regret everything. Please, believe me." Voldemort feared he was not doing a good enough job. What if he failed? What if Lucius didn't take his advice?
"Then why me? Why did you pick me?" asked Lucius, still curious.
"You are affected badly, more so than any others. You are in extreme danger of going down my path, and it is not the right way to go! Other people can look past the Battle! You can't!" cried Voldemort.
"Really?" asked Lucius, in his icy tone.
"Yes," said Voldemort, "and I shall show you."