Chapter Text
Lucius Malfoy, forlorn, sat in his cell in Azkaban. They had seen fit to give him his old cell, not that it mattered, one cell was very much like another. He had been here two weeks and so far had only seen his guards. All they did was taunt him. He tried not to let it get to him, but it was hard. While his mind was reeling with ways to try to keep himself out of prison, he had no idea if any of it would work. After all, he had been unable to keep himself out of prison after the break in at the Ministry, though at that time he could not use the defense he hoped to use this time.
He was not sure he would be granted a trial though. His guards seemed to think that he deserved to be locked up for the rest of his life. Maybe he did. He had not led a good life and had done many despicable things. But over the last two years, he had had a lot of time to reflect on how he had lived his life, how he had treated others, how he had judged others merely on their heritage. In that time, he had come to realize how wrong he had been. He only hoped he could convince others that his mind had been opened.
He really needed a chance to talk to his solicitor. His solicitor would be someone from the outside, someone who could tell him what the public sentiment was, someone he could discuss his change of heart with and determine the best way to present it to the Wizengamot to garner the most sympathy. Someone who could tell him if he was crazy. There were days he was beginning to doubt his sanity.
After nearly a month, he was finally granted an audience with his solicitor. He outlined what he felt would be his best defense.
When he was done, his solicitor, Reg Barnes, said, "Well, that is one defense."
"Do you see another option? I don't. I must completely honest with them," he said bluntly.
"That's not normally a tactic I suggest."
"After last time, I don't know that I have a choice," Lucius replied sullenly.
"No. I don't suppose that you do," Reg concurred.
"Have they set a trial date yet?" He was eager to learn his fate one way or another.
Reg shook his head. "No. They are taking care of the easy cases first. Based on your original statement, yours was deemed the most difficult, especially in light of your prior conviction for infiltrating the Ministry. Plus I believe they are really trying to build a case against you. So far there is not a lot of sympathy for your plight."
"And my family?"
"Narcissa has been lauded by Potter and there were never any charges raised against her. She remains safe because she never took the Mark. Draco…"
"What of my son?" Lucius asked. He had known that far too much had been asked of Draco at far too young an age.
"Because of his age, it looks like it won't face any serious consequences. I've met with him. He isn't bearing any of this well."
Lucius let his head drop. "He blames me." His son was not wrong to do so.
"He hasn't said as much, but I believe he does."
"But you think he will get off?" Lucius asked, hoping at least one of them would make it out unscathed, that the Malfoy line could continue.
"I think he has a better chance than you do," Reg said bluntly.
"You don't think I have a chance?" Lucius asked, expecting honesty.
"Right now? No. We have to find a way to garner sympathy for you. Which will not be an easy task. But as you have said, blunt honesty has a slim chance of working in our favor. I'll see what I can do. See if we can get them to move your case along. Once we have a trial date, I think filtering information to the press could work in your favor. I'm going to be honest, I'm not hopeful. There are a lot of people who want you to rot up here."
"I know," Lucius replied simply. "Do what you can."
Reg finished packing up his notes. "I always do." Reg was almost to the door when he turned to face Lucius. "This is going to cost you a lot financially if we are able to keep you out of prison."
"As long as I have the manor and something to build from, I'll survive." He knew that the Ministry would be loath to leave him in a position of financial power, no matter how much sense it would make to the economic recovery. Wealth could be rebuilt by someone with know-how.
Lucius stood before the Wizengamot. The case had been made against him. Witnesses had been called for the prosecution, far too many witnesses. The only two witnesses for his defense: Draco and Narcissa. Both had attested to the fact that Voldemort had taken Lucius' wand in July and that he had been unable to perform magic of any consequence from that time forward. Narcissa had testified that Lucius had been confined to the manor following his release from Azkaban until they made the attack on Hogwarts. He was thankful she did not provide any further detail. He was not proud of how he had behaved while a prisoner in his own home.
"Mr. Malfoy, you understand the charges levied against you?"
"Yes, your honor," he replied contritely.
"And you don't contest them?"
"I freely admit I was an accomplice to Lord Voldemort and facilitated directly or indirectly some of the mayhem he wrought. I will remind the court that I had my wand taken from me in July, not long after my release from Azkaban and that I did nothing to harm anyone. I know that others were harmed in my home, but I was powerless to do anything about it."
"And if you had had your wand, would you have stopped it?" he asked pointedly.
"Had I tried to stop it, I would have found my life forfeit. Your honor, it is well known that Igor Karkaroff was found murdered in 1996. He was murdered because he did not return when Voldemort regained mortal form in 1995." He had been practicing extensively to use the man's name without hesitation, knowing that to do so would help to show that he no longer held with those beliefs. "Knowing a similar fate would befall me, I was compelled to return in 1995, to do Voldemort's bidding."
"At least it's not the Imperius Curse defense again," he heard someone snidely say from the gallery.
"But you willingly entered Voldemort's service in the 1970s."
"Not really," Lucius replied. He knew this was the lynchpin of his entire defense.
"That is an insufficient answer, Mr. Malfoy. Did you or did you not willingly enter Voldemort's service?"
"I was coerced into service by my father. As a young man, he expected me to do my part to further the goal of creating a pureblood only Wizarding World. Had I refused his desire… well, many of you knew my father, knew how ruthless he was. I knew I was… replaceable."
"You're saying your own father would have killed you had you not joined?" he asked incredulously.
"He would have at least disowned me. I knew him and I wasn't willing to ask what would happen if I declined to join the Death Eaters. To me there was no option but to do as my father said."
"Then why not say anything at your previous trial? Why say you were under the Imperius Curse?" he was asked pointedly.
"Because my father was still alive. He made it clear I was to use the Imperius Curse as my defense. I knew he had… allies, so even if I thought to sacrifice him to the courts, I have no doubt that I would have suffered. As he is now dead, I am free to tell you the truth."
"That your father forced you to join the Death Eaters? If you knew that organization was wrong, you had no proof Abraxas would have had you killed if you refused."
"That may be true. But I have no proof he wouldn't. And consider the fact that I was young, somewhat naïve, and that the Death Eaters were still operating largely behind the scenes in 1975, trying to take control of the Ministry from the inside. Yes, there were attacks on Muggle-borns and half-bloods, but they were not as prevalent as they would become a few years later."
"But you did participate in them."
Lucius hung his head. "I did. As was detailed in my previous trial. But fealty to Voldemort was every bit as powerful as the Imperius Curse. It was not beneath him to torture or kill his followers who would not follow his orders. As I have a penchant for life, I had no choice but to carry out his orders. Once you were in his service, there was no leaving it."
There was a long pause and some shuffling of parchment. "And when you infiltrated the Ministry, that was at his command."
Lucius replied. "It was. I was sent to wait for Potter to retrieve the prophecy and take it from him."
"You claim you did nothing to overtly support him after you left Azkaban, but did you not try to turn over Harry Potter to Voldemort in the spring of 1998."
Lucius had known this would be a sticking point. "I did. But I was no longer in my right mind. Everything I had been through, everything he had put my son through, I was grasping for anything to make my life better then what it was." He hoped they wouldn't ask him to elaborate further. He had buried himself in drink while imprisoned in his home, despondent at what his life had been reduced to, at the fact he wasn't even deemed worth killing, that he had become a symbol of failure.
There was a snicker from the gallery he tried to ignore.
"You could have helped Potter."
"To what end? My sister-in-law would have prevented it, and do you truly think Potter would have accepted my help? While I came to realize that Voldemort needed to be stopped, that he was going to destroy our way of life, our oldest families, my family, I was powerless to do anything about it. I have had a great deal of time to think about choices I have made in my life, beliefs I have held, how I was raised. Much, no most of it was wrong. I have seen the best of us are not determined by our blood, but by what is in our hearts. My heart…" he paused for effect and to temper his voice to sound repentant, "my heart was cold, callous. I was selfish, thinking only what was best for me. My wife, she saved us, all of us, by opening her heart. I have learned much from her behavior, her actions." He paused to see if anyone was going to interrupt him.
"I know my past actions and inactions caused a great deal of hurt. I wish to atone for that." What he was about to say is one of the hardest things he had ever done. "I offer my wealth, save for my estate and a small percentage to cover living expenses until I can provide for myself." He knew the Ministry was going to take it anyway based on what Reg had said. But it mattered not. He was reasonably sure he had assets that the Ministry knew nothing about, that in time he could leverage those assets. "I have truly learned my lesson this time. The best and bravest amongst us did not come from the old moneyed houses. They came from modest means, from Muggleborns. The worst of us on the other hand… were those unable to see past the bigotry under which we had been raised."
"And you have seen past that bigotry?" he asked skeptically.
"I have. I know I can only give you my word and that it has not been worth much in the past. I am no longer the man I have been for the last forty years. I am someone who has had his eyes opened, someone who merely wants a chance to prove that I have changed."
"We may have a means to prove that you are indeed repentant."
Presuming the pause meant Lucius was meant to say something, he offered, "I am willing to do whatever it takes."
"You will spend the next year… in service to a member of the Order of the Phoenix."
He wanted to ask what that meant, but he could tell now was not the time. "I understand."
"During that year, you are to perform all assigned tasks, no matter how menial… without magic," he continued.
Lucius could feel the blood drain from his face. He could honestly say that he had never done a chore in his life. "I understand," he said, though his voiced lacked its earlier conviction.
"Should you fail to meet expectations, you will be returned to Azkaban to serve your twenty-year sentence."
Lucius knew that twenty years in Azkaban was as good as a death sentence, especially since he had barely survived a year there. "I understand."
"If at the end of that year it is deemed that you have performed adequately, you will be allowed to purchase a wand and begin your life anew. As for your assets…" the old wizard shuffled through the parchment in front of him. "You are removed, effective immediately, from the board of directors of all assets in which you have been involved. Any shares in those assets are forfeited to the Ministry. Your investment property, is forfeited to the Ministry. Your account at Gringott's, save for 100,000 Galleons, will be forfeited."
One hundred thousand? That's all they were leaving him? And that sum would also have to cover the taxes on the manor for the next year as he would have no paid employment. It would leave him precious little with which to rebuild his life. He did the best he could to control his voice as he replied, "I understand."
"You will be kept in a cell here at the Ministry while arrangements are made for you to begin your sentence."
"I understand." Lucius wasn't sure what to think. If he did as he was told, he would earn his freedom in one year, but the Ministry had taken nearly everything from him. He knew they wanted him to fail. "May I ask whom I will be serving?"
"It has yet to be determined. You will be informed when it's time to leave for your service."
"Yes, your honor." As he was led from the courtroom, he spared a glance for Narcissa. He was unable to read the expression on her face. He should have asked if he would be able to meet with his family, but he reasoned they would give him a strict set of rules, and he could ask that question then.
Lucius spent three days in his cell before he was led to an interrogation room. There was a bored looking Ministry official seated on the opposite side of the table.
Once Lucius was seated, the official said in a bored voice, "Mr. Malfoy, you have been assigned to the Death Eater Remediation Program. As such, you are assigned one year of servitude, without the use of magic, to a member of the Order of the Phoenix. Do you understand?"
"I do," he replied simply.
"You will follow the orders of that member and anyone else dwelling in the household. You will primarily be responsible for the upkeep of the property, preparation of meals, and errands he may see fit to give you. The Ministry will provide you with clothing and toiletries."
Lucius knew it would not be anything he was used to, but anything was better than the garments he had been given upon his imprisonment. "I understand."
"You are to limit your contact with those outside of the household unless given permission by your benefactor."
"Does that include my family?"
"It does. If your benefactor sees fit to allow you to visit with your family, you may do so, though be warned your son has also been assigned to this program and it may prove difficult to arrange a meeting with him, if he is even amenable to it."
Lucius knew that he had not been a good father and that Draco rightly blamed him for the fate that had befallen the youth. "I see," he replied quietly.
He slid a piece of parchment across the table. "This contract outlines what I have just told you. If you violate the terms of your contract, you will be returned to Azkaban. You have two warnings before that happens. The first will be a written admonishment. The second will see you returned here for 48 hours. The third will see your contract cancelled. Do you understand?"
Lucius picked up the contract and read through it. It was very much as he had been told. There was the stipulation that he would refuse any orders that would see him break that law, but was to otherwise do whatever his benefactor asked him to do. He thought that was rather vague and open to abuse, but he honestly had no room to argue. He picked up the quill that had been set before him, dipped it in the ink, and signed the document. "I understand."
"You have five minutes to change before Mr. Potter arrives to take custody of you," the wizard said as he slipped the contract into a folder before rising to his feet.
Lucius thought he misheard. "Potter? Harry Potter?" He was being remanded to the custody of a teenager?
"He specifically asked for you. Five minutes, Mr. Malfoy." The man pointed at a beat up travel case by the door.
Lucius stood, picked up the case and set it on the table. Inside the case there was a bar of soap, bottle of shampoo and a comb set on top of a pile of clothes that looked as though their better days were far behind them. He sighed. This would be his new reality for the next year. Once he had been wealthiest wizard in Britain. Now he was reduced to being a servant. Once he had been surrounded by the finer things in life: good spirits, gourmet food, the finest garments. Now he would be scrubbing toilets, washing laundry and cooking. He hadn't the faintest idea how to cook and wondered if that oversight would lead to him being returned to Azkaban.
He dressed and left his prison uniform in a pile on the floor. Let someone pick else pick it up. He then waited impatiently for Potter to arrive.
When the door opened, he was met with Potter's unpleasant face. "Malfoy," he said brusquely.
Lucius took a deep breath and found himself wondering why the young man had asked for him as it was clear Potter loathed him. He forced himself to be polite. "Mr. Potter," he replied neutrally.
Potter turned without another word and left Lucius to follow. Lucius picked up his case and did so. "Mr. Potter, I have a concern."
"What sort of concern?" Potter asked gruffly without slowing his pace.
"I understand that I am your servant to do your bidding, which I am more than willing to do, but… I have never cooked."
Potter stopped and stared at him. "You have never cooked? Not once?"
"No." Lucius replied simply. Why would he have need of cooking? That's what house-elves had been for.
"You passed Potions, right?"
Lucius wasn't sure what relevance that had. "With high marks."
"Then you can cook. I'll make sure you get a cookbook. Just follow the instructions."
"Thank you." He supposed that was the best outcome he could hope for.
Potter than took him to Grimmauld Place, a house that Lucius was quite familiar with, though it looked nothing like it had in the days when Orion and Walburga had lived there. He was shown to a small room off the kitchen that contained nothing more than a simple bed and small chest of drawers. He was then shown where the cleaning supplies were stored and directed to a chart that outlined which chores were to be accomplished on which day. Potter also told him that he was to assist in meal preparation for the day and that Lucius would be provided a cookbook tomorrow.
Lucius unpacked his meager belongings and sat on his bed, momentarily contemplating his new future. He reminded himself this was temporary, that it was only a year. He had survived a year in Azkaban. He could survive a year here.
It had been two weeks and Lucius had finally established a routine. He was in the middle of cleaning the bath when he heard a knock at the door, and he went downstairs to answer it, rolling down his shirtsleeves to attempt to look presentable. He paused a moment to button the second cuff before he opened the door. He tried to sound pleasant, already having been admonished to watch his manners. "How may I help you?"
"Mr. Lucius Malfoy?" the middle aged, conservatively dressed wizard on the stoop asked.
"Yes?" Lucius asked, quite confused about what this man wanted with him. As far as he knew he had done nothing to violate the terms of his release.
The man pulled an envelope out of his robes. "You are hereby served notice of divorce. The terms are outlined. You have three days to submit a petition to contest those terms. Good day," the man said before leaving.
Lucius was stunned silent. He knew that he and Narcissa had grown apart over the years, that it had been five years since they had shared a bed, but this… This was unthinkable. He finally regained his senses enough to close the door and head down to his small room to examine the papers he had just been handed.
When he opened the envelope, the packet of legal papers was wrapped in a personal letter.
Lucius,
We have grown apart over the years. We had some good years, but they were long ago. I have found that recent events have provided the perfect opportunity for both of us to start our lives over. I have already lost a year with you while you were in prison and now it will be another year lost. I find there is nothing left for me here in Britain. I ask very little from you. Of course, you have very little. I know our finances. All I ask is the chateau in France and the French account. I think that for all that I have put up with over the years, all that I have given up, that is fair. As of right now, no one knows about either of those, or a few other private accounts, but that can change rather quickly if you decide to contest. Be sensible and sign the settlement so we can both get on with our lives.
Narcissa
He threw her letter aside and opened the legal documents. It sought an immediate divorce on the grounds of unreasonable behavior, citing his previous imprisonment, current servitude and the general drunkenness he had exhibited in between the two. For compensation she asked for her clothing, the jewelry she had brought into the marriage, a house elf and half the savings the Ministry had left him with. He knew that excluded the secret accounts, but that it was still a substantial sum, especially when paired with what was in their French account.
He stared blankly at the paperwork in his hands. He should have expected this. She was right, there was nothing left for her in Britain other than the embarrassment of being his wife, of having to deal with the stares and whispers all over again. But he now felt even more lost than he had before. Prior to this he had at least clung to the thought she would once again be by his side as he worked to rebuild what had been lost. Now… he was truly alone.
She knew enough about him, their finances that if he were to contest this, he would end up losing close to three million Galleons of resources that had been hidden from the Ministry, for what? It was unlikely she could be convinced to stay. And what purpose would he have for her staying anyway? She would do nothing other than make his life miserable.
He pulled his quill and ink out of the top drawer and signed the infernal document. He would post it tomorrow. It wasn't even worth seeing his solicitor over because he knew the man would only charge him a fee just to tell him to sign it and count his blessings she was letting him keep the accounts the Ministry hadn't uncovered.
He found he no longer felt like finishing his chores, but he knew that he would hear about it he didn't. He had already received one warning and a reminder that a second would see him spending 48 hours at the Ministry jail and a third would mean an end to his freedom. He forced himself to return to his chores.