New New Author Notes (5/7/11): As of last December, I hadn't touched any Harry Potter fanfic in years. I had decided to simply let these old stories rot and hope people forgot about them, but I have continued to receive reviews asking me to fix the formatting. Additionally, I have recently found a rekindled interest in the fandom due in no small part to one of the few things I did like about Deathly Hollows: the portrayal of the Malfoys. Therefore, I have decided to attempt to fix these stories, correcting not only the format but changing various elements around to make them more compatible with cannon and all around more readable. This universe of stories proved particularly difficult because of three things:
1) Blaise – First, the name. As of HBP, we finally got to know the real Blaise Zabini. Unfortunately, by then I had become very attached to my Blaise, and could not bear to change his name. I eventually settled on in a sort of tongue-in-cheek solution: two boys, both named Blaise and with similarly Italian last names, were sorted into Slytherin that year. Blaise Zabini is of course Rowling's Blaise, while my Blaise has become Blaise Valini. Secondly, I spent a lot of time toning down much of my Blaise's Sue-age (pun intended), so some scenes concerning him have been altered quite a bit.
2) Voldemort's defeat – I didn't have to change much here, I just removed the parts about the Dark Marks vanishing and Dumbledore telling everyone that Voldemort's defeat was final. The rest is left to you imagination, as this fic really isn't about Harry's struggle with Voldemort. Basically, think of Voldemort as having been "reset" – even though Lucius does not know this, the horcruxes still exist (except for the diary, of course) but Voldemort is weak again, like he was 13 years ago. This gives Dumbledore more time to break the whole prophecy and horcrux thing to Harry.
3) Narcissa – I really liked Narcissa portrayal as a loving mother in the last two books, but there was simply no way to fix that within this story. I finally decided to leave her as I had originally written her, but if you like, imagine that when Andromeda fell for her husband, Bellatrix was afraid Narcissa would do something similar, and somehow removed her ability to love. Or something.
Old Author's Note (Abridged): Just in case you didn't read the summary: *WARNING!* This contains: rape, torture, and incest, but not Lucius on Draco. It also contains lots and lots of fluff, because I like fluff.
Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine, which is just as well, because they keep ordering me around. Draco, especially, will not do what I want him to.
Chapter 1: Shock
Lucius Malfoy sat in a shadowed corner booth of the Three Broomsticks, impatiently waiting for his son. Truth be told, he was quite angry with the boy: not only had he fared worse than that mudblood Granger on every midterm exam, he had failed to meet Lucius for the last two Hogsmeade weekends. The boy was supposed to be gathering information on Potter, but he had not communicated a word to Lucius since before the Christmas holidays, save for two short notes saying he was too ill to make it to town. Lucius had sent him a letter this morning telling him on no uncertain terms that he had better meet him here or else, and he had better...
There he was. "Draco," Lucius frowned, "Why have you been avoiding me?"
The boy had his head bowed submissively as he sat and replied, "I'm deeply sorry, father, I was ill."
"Don't lie to me, boy. What is really going on?"
Draco refused to meet his eyes, and he toyed with the end of his green and silver scarf nervously. "I don't know what you mean, father."
"Look me in the eyes, boy," Lucius snarled, grabbing Draco's chin roughly.
"No!" Draco jerked away, panic evident in his voice. The hood from his cloak fell away, and Lucius gasped. Draco was a mess; his perfect, white-bond hair was no longer gelled back, but fell in front of his face in limp, ragged clumps. He had always had sharp features (just like Lucius), but his face was positively emaciated, his lips were chapped and bleeding, and his eyelids were puffy and red. And when he reached up to replace his hood, his calfskin gloves that had been tailored especially for him in August appeared at least two sizes too big.
"Draco... what has happened?" Lucius asked worriedly.
"Nothing. I don't know what you are talking about."
"Draco... Draco, you are ill. What happened? Why didn't the school contact me?"
"It's just the flu. I just took too long in going to Madam Pomfrey."
"Nonsense. Draco, it looks as if you haven't eaten for weeks! What is going on?"
"Nothing!" Draco stood to leave, but then he groaned and swayed dangerously. Lucius could see that he was going to fall, so he grabbed one bony wrist and pulled Draco into his lap. The boy was feather light!
"Oooh," Draco moaned, putting his head in his hands.
"Draco, child, tell me what's wrong so that I can help you."
"I can't," Draco whimpered. "I'm sorry, father, I can't."
"Of course you can. Tell me what's wrong."
"Nothing, nothing is wrong."
"Draco!" Draco flinched at Lucius' strict tone, which made no sense at all; Draco knew Lucius did not tolerate weakness. He had spent many hours teaching him not to cry out when he was cursed or punished with Lucius' cane. To flinch from a mere raised voice... what had happened to his perfect son?
"I am taking you home, Draco."
"No! I'm sorry, father, I didn't mean to flinch-"
"Hush, that isn't it. You're ill, and that fool Dumbledore is obviously not providing the care you need."
"Hush, child." Lucius stood slowly, putting an arm around Draco's waist lest the boy fall again. He led him to the public floo station, tossed a handful of powder and clearly annunciated, "Malfoy Manor."
Lucius pulled Draco into the fireplace with him just as the boy began to struggle. He had to work to keep his grip on Draco as they spun through the floo network and tumbled out of the ornate, ballroom fireplace. When Lucius pulled Draco into a standing position, the boy's overlarge, blood-shot eyes rolled up in his head and he fainted into Lucius' arms.
Lucius would never admit it, but he was close to panicking. What was wrong with his son? He swept Draco up in his arms and carried him to the boy's bedroom. He yanked back the black, silver, and green comforter, stripped off Draco's scarf, cloak, and boots and laid him in the bed. He covered Draco with blankets then hurried to the pewter decorated fireplace. After shouted "Doctor Uberan!" he waited impatiently for the image of the mediwizard's head to appear in the flames.
The doctor's reply was prompt; he knew that it was dangerous to keep Lucius Malfoy waiting. "Lucius? What seems to be the trouble?"
"My son is very ill. I need you at the Manor as soon as possible, and no one is to know."
"Of course, Lucius. I will be there in five minutes."
Lucius yelled for a house elf and told the disgusting thing to meet the mediwizard in the ballroom and escort him to Draco's room. He paced in agitation while waiting for Uberan to appear.
The was a light knock at the door and a tentative, "Lucius?"
"Augustus! Come in; Draco is on the bed."
The doctor stepped in cautiously, but when he saw Draco he immediately hurried over. "Dear Merlin! What happened to the boy?"
"He would not tell me; he said he could not."
"When was the last time you saw him?"
"September first. He was supposed to meet me in Hogsmeade in December and again in January, but he said he was ill. What is wrong with him?"
"Well, he's malnourished, I can tell right off, and he has a fever. Let me scan him." The mediwizard said the incantation and methodically swept his wand about an inch above Draco's limp body. "Oh. Oh, dear."
"What? What is wrong with him?"
"Lucius, I think you might want to step out a minute-"
"No! He is my son! What is wrong with him?"
"Lucius, keep your voice down, you are going to wake him."
"What is wrong with him?" Lucius growled in a low, very dangerous voice.
"Lucius, I... I believe that he has been bound, cut, and forcibly sodomized repeatedly, over a period of months."
"Raped? You are telling me that my son has been raped?"
"Yes. There is a great deal of damage, it will take several hours to heal."
"Can you heal him?"
"Physically yes, but emotionally-"
"I can handle any emotional problems he might have."
"I don't think you understand, Lucius-"
"I understand perfectly well, just heal him. I will be in my study. Send Dibby if you need me." With that, Lucius turned and stalked towards his study, his black cloak billowing out behind him like storm clouds. When he reached his study, as ashamed as he was of the display of emotion, he slammed the door so hard that a porcelain vase fell off the end of his desk and shattered. He threw himself into the chair behind his desk and tried to deduce who could have done this to his son, and how he had allowed it to happen.
He knew it might not appear that way to softhearted Gryffindors, but he had tried to be a good father. Any pains he brought on his son were only to prepare him for his life in Slytherin house and later, in the battle against the mudbloods and their ilk. Life was cruel, and he had tried to give Draco the tools to survive and flourish. Lucius' own father...
Abraxas Malfoy had been a cruel man. He had tortured his son for enjoyment. He had committed unholy acts that no father should ever engage in, and Lucius had promised himself that he would never do such things to his own child. He had wanted to teach his son to defend himself against such crimes, but now... His worst fears had come to life; someone had defiled his son, his little dragon, the way Abraxas had defiled him. He would find out who, oh yes, and that man would pay with every drop of blood in his body.
Lucius was so thinking so deeply that he did not notice that three hours had passed - and Doctor Uberan had come to report on Draco's condition - until the doctor cleared his throat loudly. Lucius whipped his wand out and was halfway though a curse before he realized the identity of the intruder. He calmly slid his wand back into the top of his cane and asked, "How is he?"
The doctor shifted nervously before answering. "I was able to heal the fever, cuts, abrasions, and other tissue damage, but he is dangerously underweight. I wrote down an appropriate diet schedule for him," the doctor handed Lucius three sheets of parchment covered in scratchy writing, "He will likely fight you on that, but he needs to fallow this schedule; if he loses any more weight, he will be in serious trouble. Take care to see that he is warm enough; he's going to be very susceptible to colds and flus for several months. I left several doses of pepperup by his bed, but consult me before you give him any."
The doctor then sighed deeply before continuing, "But what I am mostly concerned about is his mental condition. The cuts were mostly self inflicted-"
"He didn't try to kill himself?" Lucius demanded sharply.
"I don't believe so, but that doesn't mean he won't. I had your house elf remove anything from his room that he could use to harm himself and lock it in the guest room next to his. Here is his wand," Lucius took Draco's wand from the doctor's hand and held it as if it were made of glass. "I also suspect that he has been suffering from nightmares and insomnia. He is going to need a great deal of sleep; this is all the dreamless sleep potion I have with me. Do you have more in the house?" Lucius nodded.
"Don't give him any tonight; stay with him and see how well he sleeps. If he has violent nightmares, or cannot sleep after a couple hours of trying, give him one full dose for the next three nights. After that, cut the dose in half. It is important that you give him no more that that, or he might develop a dependence on the potion. But most importantly, you must never leave him alone. Even when he bathes, there must be someone with him. Don't raise your voice or-"
"I know how to handle my son, doctor. Is that all you have to tell me?"
"Only that he did not wake during my examination."
"Then tell me this, do you have any indication as to who did this to my son?"
"Well, it was a wizard, to judge by the restraint marks. About average size and strength, I'd say, who had prolonged access to him." The doctor then came to a very frightening realization, "It must have been either an older student or-"
"A professor," Lucius finished for him. Based on the doctor's description, and his own knowledge of what was happening at Hogwarts this year, Lucius had formed some very unpleasant suspicions. "Is that is all?" The mediwizard nodded. "Then go."
"I... I'll be back to check on him in a few days. If he develops any more problems-"
"I will call you, yes, of course. Forgive me for not showing you out, but I wish to be with Draco," Lucius said, as he rose from his chair.
After the Uberan left, Lucius locked Draco's wand in the top drawer of his desk and walked quickly to Draco's room. He paused a moment before opening the door. Draco was still asleep on his back, the covers pulled up to his chin. He looked so pale, almost... no, Lucius was not going to think of his son as dead. He pulled a chair to Draco's bedside and sat gently, afraid of waking the boy. He softly caressed the side of Draco's cheek, realizing the mediwizard had spelled the blankets and the pillows with a heating charm.
Lucius knew that he should have contacted Narcissa already, but he feared her response. He had always known that she would never make the perfect mother - he had marred her because she was beautiful and Abraxas had found her lineage acceptable - but she had turned out to be no mother at all.
She avoided interacting with Draco, and when she did have to speak to him, she was very distant and formal. The only thing she had ever liked to do with Draco was dress him up for parties, but Lucius had forbade that when Draco turned ten. In addition to thinking that Draco had become too old to be dressed by someone else, he did not like Narcissa treating him like a doll; could she not see that he was a real person? Lucius feared that Narcissa, off visiting friends France, would either rush home and get in the way or, more likely, not return, uncaring as to the fact that her son had been so horribly abused. How could Draco accept that his own mother did not care about his suffering?
Draco moaned quietly, and Lucius stroked his hair gently in an effort to comfort him. Draco's large eyes fluttered open and he looked at Lucius in confusion. "Father?"
"I'm here, Draco. How are you feeling?"
"I... I don't know, father."
"You don't know? Are you in pain?"
"No..." Draco replied distantly. He then tried to sit up, but was having a difficult time fighting against the weight of the blankets. Lucius pulled the covers down to Draco's waist, and helped him sit. He held the boy with one arm and rearranged the pillows so that Draco could lean back comfortably. He then released Draco and, mindful of the doctor's warning to keep him warm, pulled the blankets back up to Draco's chin. All the while, Draco stared at him as if he had never seen him before. "Father, I'm not dying, am I?"
"Of course you are not dying. But you are very ill; I want to make sure that you are taken care of properly."
"You're not angry with me?" Draco asked fearfully.
Lucius frowned. "Why would I be angry with you?"
Draco looked down. "Because I didn't complete my mission, and... and I didn't tell you that I was ill."
Lucius gently took Draco's chin and forced the boy to look in his eyes. "Draco, you did nothing wrong. Nothing that happened to you was your fault; it was the fault of the man that hurt you, and-"
"No one hurt me!" Draco shrieked, yanking himself away from Lucius' grasp. "I don't know what you are talking about!"
"I know that you are frightened, but he will never touch you again. You are at home with me; you are safe here."
Draco curled up into a tight ball. "Please leave me alone, Father."
"That is the one thing I cannot do."
"Why not?" Draco snapped.
"You know why not; you have been cutting yourself."
"I have not."
"I know that you have. I had Doctor Uberan examine you."
"What!" Draco sat up violently and glared evilly at Lucius. "You had no right to do that," he hissed.
"You are my son, you were very ill, and would not tell me what was wrong; I had every right."
Draco started to shake. "You had no right; it's my body."
Lucius knew that Draco felt violated by what he had done, but he had had no other choice. "You fainted; I was afraid that you were dying."
Tears started to form in Draco's eyes despite obvious efforts to stop them. "It's my body," he repeated.
"I know," Lucius said softly, "I know it is. But you are very ill; you need help right now."
"Malfoys don't need help," Draco repeated something he had often heard Lucius say.
Lucius sighed; he had believed that, but now... "Malfoys help each other, when needs be, and you need help right know; you know you do."
Draco said nothing; he just lay down and stared dully into the air. When he started to shiver, Lucius tried to pull the blankets up properly, but Draco was lying on top of them, and he would not let Lucius near him.
"Draco, I'm not going to hurt you. You need to keep warm or you will get sick. Please, Draco."
Finally, Draco let Lucius sit him up again and bundle him in the blankets.
"Are you hungry?" Draco shook his head. "When did you last eat?" Draco shrugged. "You need to eat something." Draco shook his head again. "Draco, this not up for debate. Doctor Uberan gave me a schedule, and we will follow it. I know that you do not wish to, but you must." Lucius could see that Draco wasn't listening to him. He could also see that Draco was still afraid of him, and that hurt more than anything.
It was time to be honest; Draco would never trust him unless Lucius told him the truth about how important Draco was to him. He had never said it before; those sort of weak sentiments always seemed particular to Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, but if Lucius were truly honest with himself, they were the sort of things he had needed so badly to hear from his own parents.
"Draco, I... I cannot lose you. It's killing me to see you suffer so. I cannot imagine what I would do if you were to die." Draco looked at him, mistrust evident in his eyes.
"You said I wasn't dying."
Dear Merlin, let it be true. "You aree not, but you are very ill. If you don't take care of yourself, then you could."
I was almost too painful to say. "Yes."
Draco seemed to consider this. Finally, he said, very quietly, "I don't want to die, father."
Lucius gently pulled Draco into his arms. "Then eat for me, my dragon, please." Draco nodded, his head leaning against Lucius' chest. Lucius stroked Draco's back affectionately. "Thank you; you are a good son."
Lucius then sent Dibby to the kitchens with Doctor Uberan's schedule. She reappeared shortly with a bowl of chicken and vegetable broth and two slices of soft, honey-wheat bread. Lucius draped the blankets over Draco's shoulders like a cloak so that he could use his arms.
It was slow going, but Draco did not complain. This made Lucius worry more, as Draco was one to complain about every little inconvenience. Lucius could tell that Draco was exhausted and still wary of Lucius' uncharacteristic gentleness. When Draco had finished the broth and the bread, Lucius helped him lie back down again. "Try to get some rest now." Draco snuggled into the blankets, but he kept peering at Lucius with suspicious eyes. "Are you warm enough?" Draco nodded. "Then try to sleep; you need rest."
"You're not going to demand to know who did it?"
Lucius froze. "I did not want to push you; I know that you will tell me that when you are ready. Do you wish to tell me now?"
"Then rest. Tell me when you are prepared; I promise that whoever it was, he cannot harm you here." Draco finally closed his eyes but did not appear to be sleeping. Lucius just sat by him and rubbed his back slowly. When Draco eventually nodded off, Lucius ordered Dibby to watch him while he contacted Narcissa and the school.
The letter to that fool Dumbledore was easy. Short and scathing, it simply informed him that Draco was very ill, and Lucius was caring for him at home, as he did not trust the school with his son's welfare. Narcissa was more difficult, as Lucius had decided to use the fireplace, and he did not feel he could tolerate dealing with her. But he forced himself to toss the powder into the flames and call out, "Narcissa Malfoy."
She took several minutes responding to his call; he could tell by the rollers in her blond hair that she was having her hair done by her friend's house elf. "Oh, hello, Lucius. Is something the matter?"
"Indeed there is. Draco has been... attacked by someone at school. He is very ill and I took him home; I do not trust that school to look after him properly."
"He'll live, then?"
"Certainly, but he will require a great deal of care. I'm taking a leave of absence from the Ministry. As his mother, I thought that you would want to be with him."
As expected, Narcissa waved him off. "You know that's quite impossible. Helena has arranged a great many events witch I simply must attend. And I'm sure that you have everything in hand."
Lucius' blood boiled. How could he have married this woman? How could he have entrusted with her the honor of being the mother of his child; an honor that she neither appreciated nor even acknowledged? "I'm giving you one last chance, Narcissa," he growled. "Come home. Be the kind of mother you should have been from the beginning, and you shall remain my wife. If not, I'll divorce you and leave you with nothing."
Narcissa frowned. "A divorce would leave me with half of you estate; I cannot imagine that you would be willing to give up that much."
Lucius sneered. "You should have read the prenuptial contract more closely. It states quite clearly that if you commit adultery, you are entitled to nothing. I know that you have been shagging that weasel Nott for years. And who knows how many others have had the... dubious pleasure of your overripe cunt." Lucius was not that fond of profanity, but he wanted to hurt Narcissa as much as possible.
Narcissa flushed darkly and glared at him through the flames. "I'll take you to court. I'll make sure that the entire wizarding world knows that you are a dark wizard and a cuckold. You'll have no time at all to take care of your precious Draco."
"No one would believe you about the dark arts; I know full well you know nothing about what I do or you would have turned me in and taken control of the entire estate years ago. As for the adultery, I don't care who knows; in fact, I fully intend to tell the papers when they ask. I'm quite looking forward to watching Nott squirm. Any trial would last a couple of weeks at most; that contract is iron clad. Draco would have the best care regardless. However, because I don't fancy wasting any more of my time on the likes of you, I propose this: my lawyer will write up a contract of divorce in which you have no contact at all with me or Draco unless we initiate it, you say not one word about the divorce, me, or Draco to anyone, *ever*, and you never again return to any of the Malfoy holdings. In return, you will receive 30,000 galleons, immediately, in cash. That should give you sufficient funds to find another rich man to leech off of."
Narcissa looked at him suspiciously for a minute. "80,000," she finally said.
"Thirty-five," Lucius sneered.
"Seventy," Narcissa countered haughtily.
"Forty," Lucius hissed, letting Narcissa know not to push him too far.
"Sixty," Narcissa said, less confident.
"Forty-five," Lucius growled dangerously.
"Done." Narcissa could see that her best option was to grab the money and run. "I'll sent Proust with the contract and the money with 24 hours," Lucius coldly informed her. Then he added, casually, "Oh, and Narcissa, you realize that violation of the contract will cost you more than just the 50,000." He drew his wand across his throat to make his meaning very clear. He had the satisfaction of watching Narcissa lose all color before he terminated the spell.
Damn that woman! Lucius slammed his fist against the mantle piece in a rage. At the moment, he did not really care about the money, the public embarrassment, or losing a fine trophy wife, but Draco now had no mother at all. How could she have the most perfect son in all the world and just throw him away? She reminded him a bit of his own mother, but at least Morganna had had the fear of Abraxas' anger as an excuse. What excuse did Narcissa have? Lucius only hoped that when Draco took a wife, he would choose more wisely than Lucius had.
Lucius then quickly wrote a detailed letter to Proust, his lawyer, explaining what he wanted done and ordering him to bring the contract to the Manor in the morning so that he could review and sign it. He also sent a brief, ambiguous note to the ministry informing them that he was taking a leave of absence. As he sent the second owl off, Dibby appeared in his office in a panic.
"Master Malfoy, sir! Young master Draco is having horrible dreamses, sir! Dibby is trying to wake him, sir, but he just screamses and screamses, sir!"
Draco! Lucius ran to Draco' rooms to find his son screaming, wailing, and trashing about, tangled in the blankets like a bird caught in a net. Lucius immediately caught Draco's wrists and called to him desperately, "Draco! Wake up! It's only a dream! Please, wake up!"
Lucius tried shaking him, but Draco did not wake. His screams diminished after several minutes into painful sobbing and whimpering. Lucius let go of Draco's wrists, which were bruised from his struggles, and pulled the boy into his arms. He rocked Draco like a distraught child (but he still was a child, wasn't he), stroked his back and his hair, and murmured reassurances to him. After a time, Draco's eyes opened, swollen, red, and sticky with drying tears. "Father?" he asked timidly.
Lucius held him tighter, "I'm here, my precious dragon; you're safe." Draco sighed and relaxed against Lucius' chest. He wrapped his thin arms around Lucius' shoulders and remained silent for a long while.
Finally, Draco asked. "Father, if I told you who... who it was, what would you do?"
Lucius frowned. "I would see to it that he paid for what he did to you, and would never, ever be able to do it again. Do you wish to tell me who it was?"
"I... I think so." Draco paused, and Lucius was secretly proud of his son for having to courage to speak the name. "It was... it was... Professor…"
Dear, Merlin, let him not say Snape; anyone except his most trusted teacher, "M... Moody," he finished quickly.
Crouch jr.? It was Crouch!
*End Chapter 1*