Chapter Text
◦ ☽ Prologue ☾ ◦
The sun shone from the center of a bright blue sky on the day Lucius Malfoy was lowered into the ground. A wizened Celebrant with long robes as white as his hair and golden frames as yellow as his teeth droned on to the words of a speech he’d memorized in a time when they’d all been too young to hear it.
No one heard it that day either. Not as the ring of scarlet-clad Aurors stood along the perimeter of the silencing spells to keep out the reporters vying desperately to scoop the next day’s headlines. Not as the wizard in long black robes let the vibrations of the barrier charms drown out the placating sentiments of being loved and missed and never forgotten. Not as the sobs from the witch at his side cut across his fraying nerves like glass.
Draco Malfoy had no tears as he stood with one hand clasped around his weeping mother’s shoulder and the other clasped around his Ministry-issued wand watching the flashes of a hundred cameras reflect from the lenses of the Celebrant’s glasses. The photos would show no other family, only them, and an oblong pile of dirt. Draco lifted his chin and straightened his spine.
When the Celebrant stopped talking, Narcissa stepped forward, neatly arranging a bouquet of white roses at the base of the engraved marble stone. It was small. As much as they could afford with the Malfoy estate held in trust as it was garnished for reparations.
The stone read:
Lucius Abraxas Malfoy
Beloved Husband and Father
September 9, 1953 – July 7, 1998
Narcissa brushed her delicate hands across her robes, which were as pristine as always, and stood tall as she rose from her husband’s grave. Her eyes were rimmed red, and streaks of salt were left on her cheeks, but determination set behind her eyes in a way her son found familiar. She closed the distance between them and grasped his hand, briefly.
“We’re going to be alright,” she said.
It still sounded like a question and Draco wasn’t sure he had the answer. He nodded anyway, and she took a few steps back before apparating home to allow him the privacy to say goodbye.
Draco didn’t move for a long time. The words “Beloved Husband and Father” tasted sour in his mouth. Once, yes. Once, he’d been a monolith. A champion. A hero. Then, as Draco watched the years fall away, Lucius Malfoy became less and less and less, and now he was here.
“You were wrong, Father,” Draco said at last, staring at the dark earth and ignoring the cold he felt in the warmth of the day. “You said pure blood was the power of a wizard, but you served a half-blood like he was a god. You said he was the most powerful wizard of all time, but he was defeated by a child. You said you were superior to Mudbloods, but you begged like one, didn’t you? At your trial? Then you died like one. This graveyard is full of Muggleborns, half-bloods, and purebloods, and do you know what?” Draco ran a hand over the smooth stone and leaned in close. “All of you fit into the same sized box.”
Draco backed away, working internally to isolate and Occlude every opinion he’d ever learned from his father in layer after layer of hardened resolve. It would take years, decades maybe, before he could disbelieve them entirely but, eventually, he would be able to move around his prejudices without the conscious effort of avoiding them.
Draco glanced towards the crowd of reporters, then made to go. He halted when the deep green hue of the garnet in his ring caught the light. Draco laughed softly. The stone was massive, worth more than a thousand galleons, and the Malfoy family crest was engraved into the thick silver band. Draco yanked it off, holding it out for his father to see.
“You were right about one thing,” he said, his vitriol seeping away until he felt nothing but calm rage. “I am no longer fit to carry on the Malfoy legacy. This curse ends with me.”
Draco cast the ring into the dirt and turned away from his father for the last time.