"What makes you say he seems so ordinary?" Draco could not help but ask.
"And what makes you think him worth befriending?" Lucius countered, a hint of disdain on his face.
"I told you about the Chamber of Secrets, that proves he is no ordinary boy. Destroying a Basilisk, and that diary, is no small feat for any boy his age," Draco said.
"The Basilisk, was that not down to Dumbledore's phoenix helping him? And as for that diary, it was simply some Dark artefact left over from the Dark Lord's day. Not the Dark Lord himself. What could it really do?" Lucius said, dismissively.
No. A flicker of guilt crossed Draco's face.
Though the diary had not, in truth, been the Dark Lord himself, it had been every bit as dangerous... it had carried a small fragment of the Dark Lord's own soul within it.
Draco had kept the matter of the Horcruxes entirely from his parents.
For the present, the less they knew of Horcruxes, the better... at least until their true loyalties were fully settled.
In his past life, one major reason Lucius had thrown himself so resolutely back to the Dark Lord's side had been that, by the time he felt the Mark on his own arm calling to him, the Dark Lord had already returned.
That had been an established fact, one no one could resist.
Had Lucius refused the Dark Lord's summons then, he would very likely have been made an example of, and would probably have met a violent end in his own bed at Malfoy Manor, the very next morning.
But what if the Dark Lord's plan for resurrection were thwarted, and never came to fruition at all? What would Lucius's own attitude be, in that case?
It was worth noting that, in the decade or so since the Dark Lord's fall, Lucius had never once tried to seek out his former master. Instead, he had promptly claimed to have acted only under the Imperius Curse, cleared his name entirely, and resumed his place as head of the Malfoy family. Now, he was on excellent terms with Ministry officials of every rank, with no one able to trouble him in the least; he lived a thoroughly comfortable life.
Would a father living so comfortable a life truly be willing to give it all up, and risk his life, for a future no better than an even wager? Draco rather doubted it.
"What, nothing to say?" Lucius, quite unaware of Draco's private thoughts, asked impatiently, after his son's long silence.
"Harry Potter... after all, he defeated the Dark Lord, at such a young age." Draco, weighing his father's likely thinking, said pointedly, "As far as I know, ever since he arrived at Hogwarts, Dumbledore has always favoured and looked after him closely. If he had no extraordinary abilities at all, why would the Headmaster of Hogwarts, busy as he is, trouble himself so much over him?"
"That does make sense," Narcissa said, siding with her beloved son. "Dumbledore is no fool. There must be some deeper reason behind it. Lucius, Draco has already done rather well for himself here. His friendship with young Potter might open up all sorts of avenues for our family's future. What is so wrong with that? Is it really worth all this fuss?"
"Cissy, it is not so simple as that. You know perfectly well, it is easy enough to climb aboard Albus Dumbledore's ship, but far harder to climb back off it again. Why else do you think I have kept my distance from him all these years? And besides, this is a wizard from an ancient pure-blood family who has willingly lowered himself, dealing with all manner of people... blood traitors, Muggles, Squibs, half-blood werewolves, and perhaps even half-blood giants..."
Lucius's manner softened considerably before Narcissa, setting out his misgivings quite composedly.
Hearing this particular list of company, Narcissa's expression wavered somewhat. She had to admit her husband had something of a point.
Having secured this small concession from his Cissy, Lucius hardened his expression towards his son once more. "I think you deserve some punishment... for running off as you did; and for forcing me to thank that blood traitor Arthur Weasley, utterly humiliating..."
"Lucius!" Narcissa disagreed. "We ought never to have left him alone in the tent in the first place!"
"Our own tent was perfectly safe, no danger whatsoever! No one would dare touch a Malfoy!" Lucius said, impatiently.
"That is true enough..." Narcissa murmured.
No one would dare touch a Malfoy... whatever did that mean? Could Father truly have taken part in tonight's Death Eater activities after all? Draco frowned slightly.
He took another sip of cocoa, feeling he might have borrowed a little of Hermione's courage tonight. He looked up, studying Lucius's expression. "Father, were you really with the Bulgarian Minister for Magic all evening?"
"What do you mean by that? What exactly do you think your mother and I got up to tonight? Are you doubting your own father?" Lucius's face darkened further, a fierce light flashing in his eyes, as though thoroughly offended.
"Of course not. But I would wager you can guess well enough who started those fires." Draco did not answer his question directly, cleverly shifting the angle instead.
"Do I even need to guess? It is obvious enough! Those drunken fools! Have they no idea what sort of occasion this was? Using the Dark Mark, of all things! This will do terrible damage to our standing internationally. We have only just had a few years of peace, and the Ministry will certainly not let this pass..." Lucius said, his expression thoroughly displeased.
It seemed Father had not taken part in tonight's march, after all. He had not even changed out of his banquet robes yet.
Draco felt relief wash over him at last. His father's absence from the Death Eater march that night left him with a new possibility to consider... his father might well remain a staunch believer in pure-blood supremacy, but that did not necessarily mean he was prepared to risk a dangerous, turbulent life for that belief alone.
He watched his father quietly, weighing up just how much Lucius might be wavering between the two camps, and whether he might be leaning, after all, a little more towards the safer side.
"That is quite enough, Lucius, stop tormenting my poor Draco." Narcissa cut off her husband's complaints, looking with concern at her precious son. "He needs a proper bath, and, more importantly, some rest. Let us get home as soon as we possibly can; I have had quite enough of all this chaos here..."
"All right, all right, Cissy, do not upset yourself." Lucius raised his hands in surrender and rose from his armchair. "I know someone who can arrange a Portkey straight away, no need to wait until morning. Let us go now."
The people Lucius and Narcissa "knew" always proved remarkably efficient. This included not only the wizards at the Portkey office, but certain wizards skilled with a rather different sort of instrument... a quill. Rita Skeeter, for instance.
The next morning, as Draco was cutting into a tender steak at the Malfoy Manor table, Lucius dropped a copy of the Daily Prophet onto the table in front of him.
"See this?" His expression remained indifferent, though a certain smugness crept into his tone.
Draco glanced quickly at the headline. "Ministry in Disarray... Culprit Still at Large... Lax Security... Dark Wizards Run Free... A National Disgrace..."
Draco looked up at his father, already seated opposite him, neatly cutting into his own Cissy's steak.
"Read it out loud," Lucius said, sensing his gaze, smiling with arrogant satisfaction, and instructing his son.
"A senior Ministry official may be implicated. Sources suggest the Dark Mark that appeared in the woods may be closely linked to this official's own house-elf. Though this official has been notably hard-line on resisting the Dark Lord in the past, one cannot overlook the fact that members of his own family were once staunch supporters of the Dark Lord himself... How the Ministry means to weather this storm, conduct its internal inquiry, and reassure a rattled wizarding public remain pressing questions it must now address." Draco read the article aloud, word for word.
"Tell me your thoughts," Lucius asked his son, across the table.
He should not really have needed to ask. He had already avenged his son, restored his dignity, and punished the fool who had dared show a Malfoy such disrespect.
Draco appeared remarkably composed... a little too composed. His expression was blank, showing not the least sign of pleasure. That was hardly what one might expect from a fourteen-year-old boy, especially one who had just seen himself avenged, after such humiliation.
This left Lucius with an odd, faint sense of unease. For a moment, he found he could not quite fathom his son's thoughts at all.
My son... is he satisfied with this, or not? Lucius wondered to himself.
Across the table, Draco folded the newspaper and said calmly, "I imagine Mr Crouch is having rather a poor night's sleep."
"He deserves it." Lucius seemed quite certain of this; he detected, he thought, a note of satisfaction in his son's words.
Relieved, he said, a resolute glint in his grey eyes, "Draco, remember this: no one falsely accuses a Malfoy without paying for it, one way or another."
Draco smiled faintly at his father, and finally picked his knife and fork back up, returning to his steak.
Yes. Father Lucius always held fast to that old Malfoy family rule: I shall not offend others, unless they offend me first; but should they offend me, I shall repay them a hundredfold.
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