Chapter Five: Punishment

I was not under the impression that mercy was one of the Dark Lord’s fortes; I was not deluded enough to think that he would go easy on me. If I had wanted weakness, I would have joined Potter and his band of muggle-loving, impure imbeciles. No, I trusted power and the Dark Lord was nothing if not powerful. However, merciful was most certainly not part of the package.

Let it never be said that I, Lucius Malfoy, am not perceptive.

Morning; there is no peace in it, only the grating sound of birds chirping and a nagging fear in the pit of my stomach that today is the day I die. I wake up on the floor. Clearly the small, lumpy cots we are provided with are to blame; Lucius Malfoy would never fall out of bed.

I stand up, my bones cracking as I do. A thought occurs to me: What if he does worse by me than just the Cruciatus curse? I shivered despite myself. The others were still sleeping; Bellatrix was probably in her special, private suit, she was his pet after all and the only female. Why should she be forced to sleep with foul, disgusting pigs such as these? I, of course, grin and bear it.

The morning routine within Voldemort’s ranks is anything but ordinary. He is usually up at the crack of dawn, and usually in bed as late as can be. He hates letting time slip by him without accomplishing something, you see, and what he wants more than anything is to kill Harry Potter.

Now the trouble with killing Harry Potter is you can’t. We’ve all tried, I’m sure. Who wouldn’t want to? After all that stupid Gryffindor boy is nothing but an arrogant little brat. He only thinks he’s something special. He is not.

I still wonder, to this day, why it is exactly that Voldemort wants him dead so badly. Perhaps he’s just angry because he couldn’t kill him as a child. He certainly seems to think it only a minor draw back but underneath the frustration is only mounting and for some reason, I think, he’s almost afraid.

Afraid of the Boy Who Lived? I laugh to myself, a soft chuckle at first that slowly grows in pitch and suddenly I think I am something akin to madness. Oh, what a day this is going to be.

I walk through the house, dust rising in my wake. The Dark Lord was nowhere to be found and that bothered me. Upstairs I found Bellatrix sleeping though I was not sure whose room it was she was in. I was certain she slept somewhere nice, but the room was so lavish.

“Lucky girl, aren’t you?” I muttered darkly. Why she should get such fineries and I be reduced to sleeping on moldy, lumpy cots, and dusty, grimy floors was beyond me.

I traveled back down to the lower levels, heaving a sigh as my foot touched down. “Nothing to be done.”

“On the contrary, Lucius, I believe there is much to be done.”

I nearly shot out of my skin at the sound of Voldemort’s voice. There he was just sitting in the lounge, sipping a red wine, almost as though he were living in the lap of luxury, almost as though he had been waiting for me.

“M-my Lord?” I hate when my voice wavers. I had always told Draco that is the surest sign of weakness, that and shaking hands. Speaking of which, I balled my hands into fists, trying to curb my sudden fear and desire to run screaming.

“Yes, Lucius much to be done. As I recall, you were the one who told me not to go easy on you,” he said, that oh so sadistic, inhumane smile playing on his lips like something sweet, lingering for so long.

I’m going to die, I thought.

“Shall we get started then? We do not want to waste the day, do we?” Oh how that smile sent chills through my body; I almost visibly shivered. I didn’t notice it, but he had already pulled his wand out. A sudden flick and muttered word were my only warnings before the most unbearable pain tore at my body.

Coherent thought should be impossible through all this pain. Who is that screaming?

Then all fades to black.

I wake up on that same dusty floor as before, only this time the light in the room has shifted and I’m sore. I open my eyes slowly and the second I do, pain takes my body once again. I didn’t even hear him speak that time.

Blackness once more.

I’ve come to the realization, somehow through my slowly unhinging mind, that I am so much screwed. I’m not one for such foul language; I may use the word ‘mudblood’ from time to time, but really, it’s not so much an insult as a truth, an absolute truth.

I try to move, but a groan escapes me. Pain once more takes over my body. This time, I do not fall into the black oblivion; he wants me to stay awake for this.

“Lucius,” the Dark Lord says, “Do you know how long you have been under the Cruciatus curse?” he asked, teasingly. He was enjoying this so very much.

“N-" I began to speak, but my throat was raw and I couldn’t continue.

He merely laughed. I hadn’t the energy to move and when I fell, my face was suddenly very wet and warm. How humiliating.

“It is now seven o’clock Lucius. We started this session of ours at…” he paused, probably for dramatic effect, “exactly ten minutes to ten. Tell me, Lucius, are you mad yet?”

“M-my Lord,” I spoke, “I am still-" I had to stop. My throat hurt too much and there was the taste of blood in my mouth.

“Still sane?”

I nodded. “Yes, my Lord. And still able to serve you,” I finally managed.

“Are you?” His voice was high and cold with amusement. “Why should I let you? I should just kill you now.” He seemed to consider this. “But where would the fun be in that? You’ve only had to endure this for ten hours and ten minutes, minus a couple of breaks I took. It wasn’t nearly as fun when you passed out so completely that last time that you didn’t even scream, merely twitched. Like so."

He must have raised his wand for suddenly I was twitching and screaming in pain.

Screaming, in itself, can be torture. My already raw throat, bloody and swollen could only take so much more. Another minute of this and my vocal chords would be beyond damaged. Even talking would be impossible.

Beautiful, heavenly peace fell when the curse was lifted. I suddenly realized that Bellatrix was in the room and she was speaking to the Dark Lord.

“He sent you this, my Lord,” she was saying.

Silence for only a minute, then the sound of something ripping and parchment being unfurled.

“How very interesting,” he said, amusement sugaring his voice. “It seems Harry is ready to end this. He truly is deluded to think that he can defeat me.” The Dark Lord laughed. “Tell everyone, Bellatrix. Tell them that it’s time to kill those who oppose us. War is upon us and I intend to make the chaos so sweet.” He laughed that cruel laugh I had actually grown accustomed to.

“Yes, my Lord,” Bellatrix said. An odd pitch to her voice suggested excitement.

“Ah, Bella,” he murmured.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” Bellatrix laughed. No, she giggled in response. “After he is dead, we will celebrate all night and into the week even. Muggles will fall and all the impurities in the wizarding world will be extinguished. Oh, yes, my Lord, and we shall carry Potter’s head on a spike to show them all how weak he truly was.” She was so breathless with excitement I almost didn’t hear her.

“Go now.”

Bellatrix’s footsteps died away within seconds. I was suddenly aware that the pain would be returning or else it would be death I felt next.

The Dark Lord stood for a long while in silence. I didn’t dare look at him, much less move. I hardly even breathed.

“Lucius,” he finally spoke, “I wonder. You say you are able to serve me…” he paused once more for effect. “I want you to prove it. Prove your loyalties to me and I will spare your life.”

With all the strength I could muster, I forced my head up. “What is it you wish me to do?” My throat hurt worse than anything I could imagine, the blood threatened to bubble up, but I kept my composure, or as much composure as a man who’s been tortured can keep.

“Your son, Draco, has failed me countless times. I fear he is wavering in his conviction. He is a liability. I am almost certain he may be a spy.” The Dark Lord gave me such a penetrating glare that I could actually feel it slice through me to the core as he scoured my mind for any knowledge of this supposed truth. I, of course, knew nothing. His gaze shifted and he was no longer trying to kill me with daggers for eyes. “Very well, I want you to kill him, Lucius. Kill him and bring his body to me. I do not care how you do it. Use the curse, use a dagger, either way is sufficient as long as he is dead.”

I stared, unable to believe what I was hearing.

“You will do this lest I deem you unworthy and kill you and then him. To stand by my side when we triumph, you must kill your son.”

The funny thing is if the Dark Lord says you do something, you do it. He does not ask, he demands and right now he was giving me no other options. If he’d told me to do his laundry for the rest of my life, I would do it because that is how it works. If he told you to lick his dog clean, you would do it and you would not leave a single hair on that dog un-licked. If the Dark Lord tells you he wants socks with little snitches on them, you get him those socks or die trying because if you don’t, you’ll die anyway.

I nodded and he left the room.

I lay there for hours after that; my body was too sore to move, my throat to raw and swollen to call for aid or even drink water. I just lay there mulling over everything that had just happened.

An ultimatum. The worst kind. An ultimatum issued by the Dark Lord: kill or be kill. How simple and yet, how complex.

In my condition, I don’t think I could have gone anywhere. I’m almost positive I would have clinched myself trying but the prospects were not good: be clinched temporarily due to faulty apparation or be clinched permanently by the Dark Lord? Well, that was a no brainier.

Apparating was difficult, but not nearly as difficult as seeing my son lying in bed sleeping and looking just like a Malfoy should. Why had he returned to the Dark Lord? I had hoped they’d stay in Scotland. Apparently I set my hopes too high.

I pulled my wand from within my robes and prayed he didn’t wake up. My prayers of course, went unanswered.

“Father?”

His eyes were barely open, squinting in the dark. He hadn’t been asleep at all, I could see that so clearly now.

“Yes, Draco?” I said, my wand now in my hand.

“What-" he seemed to be at a loss for words. “What are you doing here?” he finally managed.

“I came to say good-bye.”

“Good-bye?”

With that I raised my wand. I knew, before I said the curse, before I even brought it down, that he would never again love me as a son should love his father. He would hate me from this moment on. It was just too bad it was his last.

“Avada Kedavra.” I hissed and the jet of green followed. He was dead before he hit his pillow, looking frightened, angry, and very sad.

I sat down on the bed, taking his hand in mine and I did the unthinkable: I wept. It’s odd really, now I stop and think about it, that I don’t really care that much. I just killed my son and I really don’t care but I’m still crying about it. Why?

I collected myself, stood, pulling the body of my one and only son, my heir, into my arms and at that moment the door opened.

“L-Lucius?”

My heart stopped. Narcissa.

“Y-yes?”

“What are you doing here?”

I laughed at that. “I came to say good-bye.”

“Good-bye, but why? What do you mean?”

“Not to you, Narcissa. To Draco.”

“To-" And just like that she realized what was happening and nothing could prepare me for what she did. “D-Draco?” she called.

Apparently, the lack of an answer was enough for her and she broke. I heard her fall to the floor and as I apparated away, her sobs echoed through me like the ringing of a very loud bell and her last words would stay with me for the rest of my life.

“You- never- I never want you to come near us- me again! I hate you! You sick, worthless-" I believe somewhere in there she started throwing hexes at me, but by the time the hex reached me, I was already on my way to the Dark Lord, my bounty in my arms, just like when he was a little boy.

“Lucius, back so soon?”

He was so sadistic. But he was all I had left and maybe he was all I ever had, ever was, ever could be.

“Yes, my Lord.”

“And you’ve brought us a guest, it seems.”

I nodded, unable to speak. Narcissa’s sobs and shouts still ringing through me.

“Ah, lovely. It seems you are truly my servant.”

I bowed, laying my son at his feet and kissing his outstretched hand. “My Lord, I am yours forever.”

“Good. Very good. Now throw the trash out, won’t you?” And with that he kicked Draco’s body towards me and left me to my musings and my task. I was to be the trash man tonight and by morning all that would remain of my deed would be a mound of upturned dirt and a memory.