Tom Stark-Malfoy

Bellatrix apologized knowing that her plan must not have worked, and now she even put Lucius' name along side her's in the Dark Lord's blacklist.

After so many minutes, she hadn't been counting, Bellatrix remembered something in her pocket that would mean more to Lucius than her sister. She had taken out a piece of cloth which looked immensely old; it was faded and looked as though doxies had gnawed it in places; nevertheless, the golden thread with which it was embroidered still glinted brightly enough to show an image.

"Lucius." Bellatrix had softly spoken, as though cajoling a child whom she stole candy from.

Lucius glanced towards the cloth and saw the lovely face of his gorgeous wife. Underneath her beautiful portrait was her name and birth years, all in the same ribbon as his own name. He knew what this was. His wife had told him about it. This was part of the Black Family Tree tapestry. Why is this with Bellatrix? Did she rip it out?

"I couldn't let anyone find any clue about your son. I wanted to give it to Cissy, but you would have better use for it than her."

'My son?' Lucius ruminated. He glanced further down the piece of cloth and saw the chubby face of his newborn. "Draco Lucius Malfoy" He read out, and a tear streaked down his cheek. That was the name of his son. The portrait was just like how he first saw his son. Draco had the collor pallet of his own platinum blond hair and his stormy grey eyes, but he had his mother's features.

Lucius had almost forgotten what his son had looked like, but now he remembered. Looking at the portrait had made him feel like he was seeing his son again for the first time. And then it struck him. That would be the first and last time he would see his son in many many years (if he ever will see him again), and now he was gone. If only he knew, then he would have kept Draco in his company for longer. He would have held Draco longer. He would have gently rocked his son to sleep instead of letting the elf do it, instead of staying by his wife's side.

"He's not gone." Lucius had been brought out of his thoughts by Bellatrix. 'How-? Right. Legilimency'.

Lucius had accidentally let his occlumence shield slip in his recollections and regrets.

"Look further down Lucius. He's safe. As long as there is only one year beside his name, you can meet again. No, you will meet again, I'm sure of it."

Lucius looked at the year beside his son's name. 'She was right.' He thought. He was safe, and that was all he needed to know to continue fighting this war.

For 15 months he had treaded carefully, as though he were a prisoner tiptoeing around prison Aurors. He grew more cautious, vigilant, suspicious, and calculating than his prime whilst he was taking all of his lessons on politics, combined. Lucius knew that there was something more to the cup and the diary that were hidden deep in his manor, but he dared not ask questions or let them see the light of day for the Dark Lord had practically been breathing down his neck. He also dared not send them to his father, for the Dark Lord might be able to track them like the Dark Marks they have on their forearms.

Thus, when the Dark Lord had somehow fallen from the peak of his power on the Holloween of '81, Lucius collapsed in tears. Grateful for the Boy Who Lived. He contacted his father, and met up with his loving wife again. But his son never returned.

Proceeding the court decisions of the Ministry, Bellatrix hadn't gotten out of her Azkaban sentence, and for this Lucius had been enraged. Afterall, Bellatrix was the reason why so many children were still alive! She had leaked information about her mission to Dumbledore. Lucius had also made sure that the Blacks had given just as generous donations as the Malfoys to St. Mungo's as well as to several projects by the Ministry of Magic just before their court proceedings. Thus incontestably, if any Death Eater should have gotten out of punishment, it should have been her.

Lucius wanted to condemn Dumbledore for doing this to her, but he couldn't do so as to the general public eye, he was a Death Eater who escaped punishment and Dumbledore was their Messiah. The only bright side he could find to this, was the fact that no matter how ill-natured Bellatrix's relationship with her cousin was, they were still cousins and through pushing his luck with the Ministry, Lucius was able to get them to be cell-neighbors.

He didn't know whether he was damning his sister-in-law, but it was better than her being beside other Death Eaters knowing that she had betrayed the Dark Lord.

During the months of Bellatrix's court trials, Lucius had been investigating the Dark Lord's items with her and their trail lead to one Horace Slughorn. One should not underestimate the connections and underground power of purebloods. Abraxas had also played a key role in keying everything to Slughorn and making him spit out just what he thought the items were. The truth. . . had been shocking and vile. And the four of them, Lucius, Abraxas, Bellatrix, and Slughorn, knew, that the Holloween of '81 was not the end.

It had taken major coaxing and a strong confundus to convince his wife, but Lucius was able to make Narcissa return to France and live with his father. The rest of the Blacks however, refused to budge and continued to live in Britain.

Lucius was secretly happy and relieved for them each biting the dust as the years went by. A most horrible response to their demise which he will never admit, but it was better than them dying by the Dark Lord's hands.

Years passed by and peace returned to the Wizarding Community. It had brought back smiles and laughter to every household but one. Lucius had remained in Malfoy Manor, guarding the items of the Dark Lord like a hell-hound. He had never been able to escape the war - and as the years pass by, he felt like they were consuming him. .

So he drank away his fears. During the first couple of years, it was Butterbeer, Wine, and Champaign. And after time started to turn into a blur, Lucius had been drinking Firewhiskey, Hog's Head Brew, Wizard's Brew, and Dragon Scale Draft Beers.

The bottles would pile up everywhere in the Manor. At first it had still been manageable, but then Lucius became more and more possessive. He hated seeing others touch his wife's and child's belongings, even the elves. The places and things the elves couldn't touch had multiplied slowly but steadily over the years until they were confined to the kitchen.

Dust, rust, and grime had begun to pile up over the years, but none of the elves had dared step out of the kitchen. They were confined there, like pets who had been caged and forgotten about.

Lucius, really did soon forget about them. But who could blame him, for all the alcohol had turned his mind hazy. Only one thing left had existed in his world, a piece of cloth ripped from a prestigious tapestry.. He would stare at it for days on end, kiss it as though it was his lover, and hug it as though it was his own child.