Starcrossed

CHAPTER 2

Abraxas Malfoy stood casually before the fire place of Malfoy Manor’s lounge. It was, he decided, a tastefully decorated room. Creams, deep blues, and dark brown Walnut wood dominated the room. It had been his daughter-in-law’s choice and Abraxas was quite willing to admit that Narcissa had an eye for fine décor. Her elegant tastes were not the problem that he had with his daughter-in-law. No. It was her lack in producing a male heir for the House of Malfoy that he detested.

If only Narcissa would produce the desired heir then he would be content to let Lucius keep her as his wife. Abraxas had no desire to see his son unhappy after all. He knew that Lucius was in love with Narcissa and that she in turn loved his son very deeply. He did not disdain love. That would be foolish. Love was a great and powerful force and Abraxas was a man who recognized and appreciated power in all of its many forms.

He was never a man blinded by love and devotion though. He was a reserved man, a patient one. He was shrewd, patient, and always knew just when to strike. He knew how to pick his battles and when to fold. Because of this he was truly unbreakable.

His son however worried him. Lucius did not have his reserve nor his patience. His son was shrewd, there was no denying that, but his emotions were not properly governed. Lucius could hide his emotions behind a cold and bored social mask but he was still all too governed by those emotions. More than once Abraxas had thought that Lucius would benefit from the loss of Narcissa. Perhaps after having his heart ripped out so cruelly he would then be less governed by his emotions.

It was something Abraxas had often contemplated in the last few years but he knew that he would not do anything to harm Narcissa. He was fond of his daughter-in-law and besides, he was all too aware that the House of Black would declare a blood feud upon the House of Malfoy if Narcissa died of anything other than old age. He knew when to fold.

“Father.” Lucius greeted him with a smile curving his lips. “I have just come from dinner at White Hall.”

“How fairs Narcissa?” Abraxas asked of Lucius in genuine curiosity. He sincerely hoped that Narcissa was well and carrying the Malfoy heir. They would need the security of a male heir against Voldemort’s machinations, of that he was sure.

“She is well. The child grows within her.” Lucius said with a smirk of pure satisfaction. “I spoke alone with Cissa’s healer. The woman assured me that the babe is healthy and has a strong heartbeat. Cissa has taken to painting with her water colors and planning to renovate the nursery. She wishes to name the boy Draco.”

“Black’s and their constellations.” Abraxas muttered with a smile of affection. “Draco is a strong name.” He mused.

“Yes. I have told her she may name him Draco.” Lucius informed his father. “For giving me my long awaited for Heir she may name the child whatever she wishes.”

Abraxas nodded his agreement. “I had to wait for you as well. I was ready to agree with any name your mother might have wanted. She named you Lucius because she was sure you would be a shining light.”

“I hope to be.” Lucius said as he moved toward the small bar located at the side of the room. He poured himself a small snifter of Brandy.

“Yes, but for whom Lucius?” Abraxas subtly attacked.

“What do you mean, father?” Lucius inquired as he moved toward the chair by the window. He sat himself down in an elegant sprawl that many would envy for he still managed to look graceful.

Abraxas studied his son for a moment and wondered just how deep of a hold did the Dark Lord have on his son? “Will you be a shining light for House Malfoy or for the Dark Lord?” Abraxas chose to speak plainly for the moment.

Lucius raised his glass to his lips and took a long swallow, a tactic to buy time Abraxas was sure. “You speak as though they cannot be the same thing.” Lucius said cautiously.

“They are not the same thing.” Abraxas admitted because this was his son. Lucius needed his honesty now and Abraxas needed to know if he could trust his Heir or if he must look beyond him to an unborn child.

Lucius stiffened at his words and Abraxas felt as though his fears were already confirmed. “Father, surely you are not losing faith?” He questioned. “I know how you feel watching as that idiot Dumbledore and others like him trample on the Old Ways. How they destroy our culture, spit at our history. I know it hurts father but you cannot lose faith. The Dark Lord will put these things to right.” Lucius said the last with all the confidence of a true believer.

Abraxas was an ally of Voldemort, but he was not a naïve young man such as Lucius. Abraxas remembered when Voldemort was Tom Riddle, a Slytherin Student at Hogwarts. The Heir of Slytherin Voldemort might be. A preserver of the old ways he might be as well, but Abraxas knew better than to trust Voldemort to ensure the preservation of the House of Malfoy. That duty was Abraxas’ and Lucius’ not Voldemort’s. In truth Abraxas knew that Voldemort would do what was best for Voldemort alone. He would use them to get his way. That his way currently coincided with the ideals of the greater ancient families was the real reason that many of their families had allied themselves with Voldemort. Abraxas did not truly count himself as a follower or a servant of Voldemort. He counted himself as an ally.

His son though was a servant and that irritated Abraxas. Malfoy’s were not servants. They did not bow and scrape before anyone.

Your faith in the Dark Lord is that absolute?” Abraxas asked of Lucius and watched his son’s face as he carefully wondered what had gotten into his father.

“Yes, of course it is.” Lucius said after a moment of thought. “Lord Voldemort is our future. He will punish those who have tried to steal our heritage from us and he will bring back a golden age.”

“There has never been a golden age.” Abraxas chided his son.

“Then he will create one.” Lucius insisted with all of the strength of a true zealot.

“And House Malfoy?” Abraxas asked of him. “What shall its future be?”

“Servants of the Dark Lord of course.” Lucius said as though it were the only answer, the only thing that could make sense. “Lord Voldemort needs us and we need him.”

“You are half right, Lucius.” Abraxas murmured as he crossed the room to the liquor and swiftly he poured himself a glass from his favorite brand of Bourbon.

“Half correct?” Lucius frowned at his father.

“Yes. The Dark Lord needs House Malfoy.” Abraxas conceded after savoring a drink from his glass. “However, we do not need him Lucius.”

“But of course we do.” Lucius insisted. “Only through him will the Old Ways be reinstated. Only through him will we have Samhain sacred again instead of that stupid little Muggle holiday Halloween. Yule will be sacred again instead of Christmas. Can you not see it father, the bright future?

You are allowing yourself to become a slave, Lucius.” Abraxas growled. He was out of patience with his Heir. “You are a Malfoy, you will be Lord Malfoy when I am dead. Malfoy’s bow to no one boy.”

Lucius glared at his father, blue eyes shining with anger. “Malfoy’s never bowed before because they had not found anyone worthy of bowing to.” He said. “Lord Voldemort is worth all of our devotion. Through him the world will be great and House Malfoy will be there at his side in greatness.”

Abraxas stared at Lucius with a glare of his own. “No one means No One.” He said firmly. “You are making a slave of yourself Lucius and now you are talking about selling your descendants into slavery with you.” He hissed at his son.

“It is not slavery!” Lucius hissed out as he rose to his feet. “I serve the Dark Lord willingly. I bear his mark.” He said and raised the sleeve to show his father the snake and skull in black ink. It marred Lucius’ otherwise perfect flesh.

Abraxas fought the urge to sneer at the sight of that disgusting mark marring his son, his Heir. “He branded you and yet you tell me that you are no slave.” He said dismissively. He took another swallow of his drink. “Lucius, the Dark Lord does not care about House Malfoy except for what House Malfoy can give to him. He, like a parasite, will suck up all that we can give and when we have nothing left then he will toss us aside.”

“No.” Lucius said firmly. “The Dark Lord cares for me. He cares for all of his followers. He would never cast aside his true servants.”

Abraxas shook his head once and fought the urge to run his hand through his short silver-blond hair. “You have bowed to this man, given yourself to him as a bonded slave. You had no right to do this when you are Heir to this House. However it is done and cannot be undone.” Abraxas said at last and felt the knowledge settle over his shoulders, a heavy cloak, yet another burden to bear. “But you are not the Malfoy yet. You are not head of this house yet. Your children will not be slaves to the Dark Lord or to anyone.” He pronounced. “I will use my dying breath to make sure of that.” His words were a deadly promise and he watched as Lucius recoiled as if struck.

He met his son’s gaze with hard ice-blue eyes and watched as his bright and shining Lucius arose and turned away from him leaving him alone in the room. A soft sigh left his lips after a few moments of silence.

Abraxas was a politician and a businessman. He had brokered hard deals. He had assisted with international magic treaties. He had helped the creation of policy within the Wizarding World and he sat upon the Wizengamot. He was a hard man who had handled hard business. Yet what he had just done was the hardest thing he had ever had to do in his life.

‘The gauntlet is thrown now.’ Abraxas thought as he finished his glass of Bourbon. ‘The line is drawn. Lucius now knows that I do not stand as an enthusiastic follower of Voldemort.’

That Lucius would eventually tell the Dark Lord. Of that he had no doubt. Abraxas would meet with his solicitor tomorrow and begin to prepare for the next generation. His days were surely numbered now. He had to do all that he could to protect Lucius’ child from its sire.