Vacillation and Volition, Prologue Part Two
Title: Vacillation and Volition
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Lucius Malfoy, Grace Malory (OC), various others
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3,008
Author's Note: To read this story from the beginning, please click here.
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Letters to Lucius
December 24, 1973
Dearest Lucius,
It is my hope that by sending this letter at such a busy time of the year, it will pass unnoticed by others. If all goes well, you should be able to explain it as yet another Christmas greeting.
I know that our goodbye was a bit abrupt, but for good reasons. I will not go into rants about how we were not supposed to be, we both know that already. Nor will I admit that I miss you. My life is as complete now as it was before I met you. This letter carries no request; I’m not asking for anything. But after hours of debating in my already tired mind, I have decided to at lest tell you.
Nineteen days ago, my son was born. It was all taken care of in our home, very privately. I can go as far as to say that only my family knows. I intend to let things to stay that way for a while. But he will not be hidden away like something to be ashamed of, no, because after only nineteen days he is already making me proud. Inevitably, he will start moving about in our society, and the question of his paternity will of course be speculated. Have no worries, I don’t plan on telling anyone. They can ask all they want, I have no obligations to be a gossiper.
I will tell my son about you. When he is ready, I will explain. I will raise him not to need you, and Maximilian will provide all fatherly guidance required. My son will never bother you, and I shall be grateful if you can keep the same distance to him. I trust you will be able to, seeing as any bit of his presence in your life would… complicate it.
I will also be bold enough to offer you a piece of advice. Lucius, I know what is going on in the Wizarding world, and where you stand. I ask you to be careful. Maintain a low profile, make sure you can explain yourself, should all go wrong. You can be proud of your actions, but don’t be a fool and brag about them. Telling my son that his father is a man of principles is one thing, having to confess that he is locked up in Azkaban is another. Please, not for us but for yourself, be careful.
With all this said, all that remains is to wish you and your family a very Happy Christmas.
Love,
Grace
Lucius put the letter down on his massive oak desk, and gazed through the window. Snow was slowly falling from the gloomy afternoon sky, and the Manor was quiet. His parents were in their wing, getting ready. The servants were, supposedly, busy in the kitchen and dining room, preparing for their masters’ Christmas dinner with the Black family. No one had seen the magnificent eagle owl arrive with a scroll of parchment. No one knew of its contents.
The white flakes seemed to hypnotise him, and he stared into the endless distance. A son? Grace had made sense back then, in April, with her arguments about Narcissa, and how she needed to commit to a serious relationship herself. Barely covered by silk sheets, she had stroked the back of his neck and said that he was too young and too handsome, that they would never be accepted even if he was not already engaged to another woman. She had continued, only half joking, that she would be called a dirty old lady and accused of trying to take advantage of him. And Grace was proud. She might not admit to being affected by gossip and ill speaking, but Lucius knew she was more vulnerable than she let on.
His eyes were suddenly watering from not having blinked for too long, so he shook his head to rid it of the trance. He looked down at her attractive handwriting and tried to take in the fact that he was a father. Slowly, the knowledge settled itself in his mind, and he felt the corner of his mouth twitch in a fleeting moment of joy. Then he found that the acceptance of such overwhelming news brought something else with it - an unexpected flood of doubt. He was not married to Narcissa after all; they were still only engaged and the ceremony was not planned until Midsummer. He had plenty of time to change his mind, to break off the engagement and offer apologies to anyone who might want them. Then he could propose to Grace instead. If he went to such lengths she was bound to accept, even if she had said she would not.
No. Realisation hit him hard, and the flood of irresolution was dammed up again. It was not possible. He had long since given up the right to do things for the sake of his own emotions. He had asked Narcissa to marry him at his parents’ particular suggestion, to strengthen the alliance between two already powerful pure-blood houses. If he attempted to break up, the Blacks would not be forgiving. And, above all those trifling matters, his priorities would be questioned. Red eyes would survey him, asking why Lucius was bothering himself with things like women when there was a much greater mission to accomplish.
Lucius looked through the window again, and saw the gates open for a stylish carriage, pulled by four black horses. He momentarily wondered why the Blacks would not just Apparate, but he knew that they were even fonder of old ways and traditions than his own family. Warm light spilled out on the dark, snow-covered grounds as a servant opened the front doors for the guests. He spotted Narcissa, and noted the time and effort she must have spent on her hair arrangement. She might not be the woman of his choice, but she was at least not unattractive. It would be wisest to settle for a life with her, a life that would make sure to bring another generation to the noble family of Malfoy.
With a quick movement of his wand, he erased both Grace Malory and her letter from his life.
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July 15, 1985
Dear Mr Malfoy,
I hope all is well with you and your family. I would like to take the opportunity to congratulate you on having a son. I hope he will be a worthy heir of the Malfoy name.
I am sure that by now you have heard a word about, or caught a glimpse of, my son. Lucas is all I could wish for and he gives me great hope for the Malorys’ future. In one and a half month, he will be starting his first year at Hogwarts. I have considered sending him elsewhere to avoid any possible confrontations, but in the end I knew that Hogwarts would provide the best education.
Lucas knows of your existence, but I am pleased to say that he has never shown any interest in seeing you or even hearing about you. Hence, he should not bother you or your family. I’m aware, and I’m sure you are as well, that my son and your son will share their respective last and first year at school. Despite a certain resemblance in appearance, I don’t think this will be a problem. At least Lucas will not bring up the matter. I expect him to be sorted into Ravenclaw, since he displays a great intelligence and interest in studying.
Again, I hope all is well and that this owl brought no inconvenience to your life.
Sincerely,
Ms Malory
Thoughtfully, Lucius put down his wine glass. Rubbing his forehead, he attempted to erase the lines of worry that he knew wrinkled his forehead. It was a beautiful summer’s afternoon and he was sitting in the arbour, half an eye on his five-year-old son who was riding a new broomstick. It was sheer luck that Narcissa was not here to see the eagle owl’s delivery, but that she was away tending to her sick father.
Even if he had not spared either Grace Malory or her son many thoughts over the years, he had always been aware of their existence, and kept a mental note of when the boy would be starting school. All since the day Draco was born, Lucius had tried to convince his wife that it would be best to send him to Durmstrang. He had used arguments such as their attitude towards the dark arts, their strict discipline, and of course the fact that one of his old friends was Headmaster, as opposed to that old crackpot over at Hogwarts. Naturally, Lucius had refrained from mentioning the fact that another son if his would already be attending the school. But Narcissa was surprisingly firm on her stand that Draco should go to Hogwarts. She had always been overprotective of the boy, a result, Lucius assumed, of being unable to bear another child. She wanted Draco if not at home, then at least in the same country.
He heaved a deep sigh. Grace’s letter gave him no reason to worry. There would be so many students in the castle, and with the age difference the chance was minimal that his two sons would run into each other. If they did, there should not really be any reason for them to discuss parentage. Besides, if Lucas Malory was as discreet as his mother claimed, he would probably not tell anyone anyway.
Then only one matter remained. Leaning back and taking another sip of wine, Lucius thoughts turned to Hogwarts. It was clear now, that both of his sons would attend his old school, and he had some serious concerns as to how the place was run. Perhaps there were a few well-qualified professors, but the lack of discipline and acceptance of Mudbloods were sickening. Lucius had toyed with the idea for some time now, to join the board of governors. Perhaps this was the time to go through with it? He would make chances, first and foremost to benefit Draco of course, but it would also pay off to Grace’s son. Lucius had never felt that he owed them anything, he still did not, but he did not mind the idea of doing something for them. And if this unknown son of his was so very interested in studying, what could possibly be better than to ensure that the quality of his eduction was improved?
As he watched Draco trying to break too quickly and consequently falling of the broom, Lucius made up his mind.
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October 3, 1992
Mr Malfoy,
It is with sadness I write to notify you of the death of my daughter Grace. She passed away on the 27th of September, leaving me and my grandson behind. She suffered from cancer, just like her mother did, for just over a year. At the end she was in agony, and welcomed her departure.
I must inform you, Mr Malfoy, that there is no worse pain than losing a child. It goes against the nature of things, and is hard to come to terms with. I find it much more difficult to fulfil her last wishes than the ones my own parents made yeas ago. But one of her requests was this letter. I do not know why, but she asked me to write and inform you of her death, and of how your mutual son is coming on.
Lucas is doing well, considering the circumstances. Grace was still reasonably well at the time of him leaving school, which he did with admirable results. Since then he has worked with me in the family business, bringing in a new perspective I have had very good use for. I expect him to take over the day I die, or when I’m no longer fit for the job.
He is coping with his mother’s death like a man, much better, in fact, than I am. He supported her all through the illness - I do not know if I have ever seen them so close and, believe me, that is saying something about the two of them. During the years I have lived with Lucas, he has, to my knowledge, never asked for you. This makes the reason for this owl even more difficult to understand. I do not think Grace wished for the two of you to meet, and I am sure she knew Lucas would have me for as long as I live.
I always respected your parents, your mother especially, but I do not know you. I am only sending this letter because Gracie was very clear about wanting me to. I do not know if it is necessary, but I will still ask you not to contact my family. This was my daughter’s last will, and I hope it will be the final contact between our two families.
Regards,
Maximilian Ichabod Malory, Order of Merlin (second class)
It was a gloomy sort of day, as if the weather had predicted the news brought by the elegant owl. Lucius stood before the glass doors leading out to the great terrace, the hand holding the parchment hanging limp by his side. Clouds were moving swiftly over the sky, reflecting the rushing emotions inside him. Grace Malory was dead. And she had been ill for a year, without him knowing. Not that he was sure what he would have done, had he known. It must have been five years since he even saw her. It had been in Diagon Alley, he suddenly remembered, and in the distance she had looked as enchanting as ever. And now she was gone, just like that.
When reading trough the letter, Lucius had been annoyed by Malory’s rudeness, and angry at the man for not letting him know straight away so that he could at least have attended the funeral. Now that he knew it was too late, he felt a little relieved. Also, with only a little imagination he could understand the old man’s feelings and confusion over his daughter’s wish. More than twenty years had passed since their brief liaison, they had had no contact with each other since, and now she wanted a special letter sent to him? Lucius was also at loss for reasons.
He lifted a heavy arm and skimmed through the paragraphs again. It was not without curiosity that he paused on the words about his son. Lucas’ grandfather did not hold back on the praise, but the man was of course also biased. Lucius had only seen the boy on two occasions; one was that time in Diagon Alley when he was with his mother. They had not seen him in return. The other time had been far more interesting. It had been earlier that year, when governor business had called him on a late evening visit to the school. He had walked through the familiar corridors to reach the gargoyle when he came upon a lonely student. His initial impulse to scold the boy had vanished at the sight of a prefect’s badge, and, accompanying it, an oddly familiar face.
Even now, when recalling the encounter, a faint chill crept up Lucius’ spine. It had not been a boy, but a young man in his seventh and final year. ‘A certain resemblance’, Grace had written that time, but Lucius had seen more than just some resemblance. He had suddenly found himself face to face with a person who was uncomfortably close to a reflection of himself. Upon further inspection, he had spotted differences, but it was still unnatural. His son was already taller than himself then, and of finer bone and build. He had worn his hair shorter, just below the ears, and the white-blond colour had a silvery shine about it. But these were insignificant details; when compared to Lucas he realised that Draco could just as well have been another man’s son. It was hard to read in the tall youngster’s eyes whether he had noticed the likeness as well, but he must have. After the slight pause, during which they had simply watched each other, Lucas Malory had showed his respect with a nod and a “Sir”, before continuing on his patrol.
Lucius could not quite suppress a smile, despite the fact that he was holding Grace Malory’s death declaration in his hand. The brief meeting with her son had inevitably caught his interest. He had sometimes wondered how things might have turned out if he had acknowledged Lucas as his own. Maximilian Malory made him sound like someone to be proud of. Lucius sighed at this, and could hardly hold back a slight roll of his eyes. His younger son was pretty much the opposite of that, seemingly incapable of accomplishing anything. Although he would never admit it openly, they were lucky to have Severus Snape as Head of House and acquaintance. Not even on the Quidditch pitch, with the best equipment Galleons could buy, did Draco manage prove himself.
He snorted at this, sat down, and relaxed in the deep embrace of his favourite armchair. Narcissa would hear none of it, of course. To her, Draco was more than perfect, a model student who had made them proud simply by being sorted into Slytherin. Lucius privately thought that his son had been better suited as a common Hufflepuff, and he sometimes found it difficult to keep such feelings to himself.
But he was no fool. All families had their secrets and better ones than his own had been torn apart when scandals were revealed. His only reason for contacting Lucas Malory would be personal curiosity, and that was not good enough.
Getting up again, Lucius walked over to the marble fireplace. He reached out, careful not to let his black sleeve touch the flames, and dropped the parchment. An odd, most unfamiliar, feeling of gloom came upon him as he watched the scroll blacken, crumple and disappear.
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