Spring was on its way, and Lawrence appreciated how he had missed the seasons in his near decade of captivity in the North Sea. The tang in the air, the early blooms fighting their way from the cold hard ground, the promise of warmer weather whipped away before you could enjoy it by gales.

"This," Lawrence pulled a newspaper with his remaining right hand from inside of the coat he had bought from a secondhand shop after his release, "is pathetic, isn't it?" He stabbed a finger at the front page of the Daily Prophet from that morning. Lucius had undoubtedly read it, after it had been ironed flat by his house elf and delivered on a silver tray. Not everything had changed, as far as Lawrence could see.

He hadn't been overly sure that Lucius would let him cross the threshold. Malfoy had managed to live a life outside of Azkaban, after the war. Lawrence had read enough of it in the Daily Prophet archives in the first few weeks after his release. Lawrence had so very little to his name, he had been relying on the charity of his family (of which his niece was the only person who would speak to him) and what he could bargain or find to do until he had some luck. He looked very much less a wizard for his attire these days - but not by choice.

"If he were around Lucius, we'd not have dementors roaming the country indiscriminately preying on purebloods. We'd have some control." His eyes flashed beneath the mop of curly brown hair which had seen a comb, but for the weather did not look too convincing.

"You'd have, I mean, his people." Lawrence attempted to correct himself. He had never taken the Dark Lord's mark, but he had been subject to carrying out the bidding of his lieutenants during the occupation of the Ministry, and before that supplying information before and after Voldemort's return in the graveyard.

"Are you not tempted, Lucius?" The ex-Azkaban inmate asked expectantly, hoping to see a flicker of excitement that they could harness the dementors again.

Lucius had no idea why he had let Lawrence Musgrave into his home. Perhaps it was curiosity over how the man was dealing with his time spent in Azkaban or what exactly he wanted with the ex-Death Eater. Or maybe he was bored and needed entertainment and company beyond his wife. He loved Narcissa but there was only so much they could deal with each exclusively without trying to murder each other. It was likely a mix of all those things that drove Lucius to let the other man in.

He raised an elegant eyebrow. "What exactly is pathetic?" He thought that it was ridiculous that the Ministry thought that someone was controlling the Dementors, or maybe it wasn’t ridiculous. Lucius tried to avoid that crowd anymore and so there might very well be someone trying to turn into the next Dark Lord. if he heard anything, he'd likely go to the Ministry with what he learned. He might still be a bigot and almost everything he was before but he was not going to be some lackey to anyone that might bring harm to his family. He was not going to make that mistake again.

He drawled. "No, He'd have them running around preying on everyone else, Musgrave." His own hair was pulled back into a low, sleek ponytail. His eyebrow went up at the reference to them, which in reality shouldn’t include Musgrave, but his correction wasn’t needed as Musgrave corrected himself. "I'm no longer one of His 'people.'" His voice was slightly hard and his eyes were slightly cooler than normal.

"Tempted to do what? Join another group where my family will be in danger? Or are you suggesting that I become the next Dark Lord?" His tone was mostly annoyed but partly icy. "I don't want to be sent back to that hell hole, thank you very much. I happen to like my sanity. So no, I am not tempted."

"Come now, Lucius. Don't tell me you never entertained the thought? Those days at the right hand of the Dark Lord." Lawrence's eyes were alight. This might be his only chance to stand in the Malfoy home the way Lucius was leading with his responses.

Somewhere, beneath this pretence, Lucius Malfoy who had too sought for blood purity and the freedom to practice dark magic for the might of the magical race must still be there, Lawrence believed.

"You must have? You all did - he probably knew, but should he have fallen again, he wanted to be sure you were all willing to carry on the good fight, yes? Not go to ground like you did after the Potters. Oh Lucius, I heard the tales back then from those on the outer circle, and I have heard much in Azkaban." He scooped up the paper and gestured with it in his hand.

"There are men in those walls who believe your move to be cowardly, but there are men in there, like I, who believe this is your grand strategy." He shrugged and shook his head, "I model much of my own 'reformation' on your own, truth be told. The Prophet adore it, as must do the masses for you."

He took a step forward, and lowered his voice.
"Tell me I am wrong, tell me you never ever entertained the thought. Tell me you don't still dream of it now?"

His mouth quirked. "I have entertained many thoughts about my time under Him, but most of it is not pleasant. There are only some many times that you can kill women and children and get a thrill from it." He hardened his face. "But do not take my words of not wanting to be involved in such activities as a renouncement of Blood Supremacy. I just have realized that we have lost that fight."

He snorted. "I could care less what most of those in Azkaban think of me. Most of them can rot in there for all I care." Which was entirely true. He frowned at the way Musgrave said reformation. "Are you suggesting that you will fake who you are? I maybe many things, but I at least do not pretend to be anyone that I'm not." His face formed into a sneer. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?" He scoffed. "The Prophet? The masses? They all regard me as something of a pariah: not a fully accepted member of society but not a criminal either. No, most of them likely think I should be rotting in Azkaban for all of eternity."

His eyes flashed dangerously and the muscle on his jaw pulsed. "I will not be putting Narcissa and Draco back in danger ever again and would highly recommend you do not continue this line of conversation." His fingers twitched, wanting to reach for his wand but stopping himself.

How could it be that Lucius Malfoy - the Dark Lord's lieutenant with Snape had given up the fight for pure blood?

"Ahhh Lucius, Lucius, you misunderstand me. I do not mean you or your dear wife and son and his family to any harm. And you're above being in Azkaban, you were always the one with the brains, that's how you used to prowl the Ministry with such ease in Fudge's days. He knew he couldn't do anything about it. You were always too clever - for us, for them." 

Lawrence shook his head, thinking back to those days of raids on the Malfoy home for dark materials which would always be fruitless.

"I was an idiot, but they only caught me for half of what they frowned upon. But I paid for it," he waved the stump where his left hand - his wand hand - had been until an Azkaban wizard guard had taken it off in revenge.

"But there are ways to restore you in society, and to further the efforts to keep our blood pure, Sir, that require no wands raised in violence, no blood spilled. Tell me you do not desire to be respected, to have a good standing in this world again?"

The whiskey or two before coming here were rather helping with the spouting, if Lawrence could only see it himself.

Lucius just stared at his guest, one that was slowly becoming more and more unwanted, as he went on about the old days. He finally snapped. "Fudge was an idiot and fool." He did smirk however at being clever. "I'm certainly far more intelligent than you, Musgrave, as well as most of the Wizarding population." He was going to get as much pleasure out of this visit as possible by anyway possible.

He simply snorted in amused agreement at Lawrence's assessment that he was an idiot. He wasn’t going to argue with the man when he obviously agreed with Lucius about his intelligence. Yet the talk about paying a price made both his Azkaban brand and Dark Mark tingle like it did occasionally when someone mentioned the Dark Lord or time spent in Azkaban. "We all paid a price for time spent in that hellhole, Musgrave." And not all scars were physical.

He gave a warning growl. "I am respected right now in some ways far more than before. My family's name is slowly being restored without your methods." It was slow going, yes, but there was a Muggle saying that described this the best: "Slow and steady wins the race." He was willing to take his time with rebuilding his family's name, and would prefer to do so legally.

Musgrave raised his shoulders into a shrug.

"Well, good on you then, Malfoy." He replied to Lucius claiming he was restoring his family name the long way round. Lucius would see through the sentiment, almost certainly.

"I wish I had your patience, your optimism." Lawrence explained, "but I know there isn't forgiveness for any of us, because society doesn't understand us. They can't see what will happen if we dilute our blood in Britain, how we will fall behind the world as our magic subsides."

He shook his head, and stared around him.
"No, you go ahead, Lucius, fight the good fight. Take the long way. Be the only thin you'll stick at…" His lip curled, "if you don't turn up your toes first with a dementor."

Feeling the message he had set out to convey had now been delivered, he dipped his head in mock respect and indicated he would bid a retreat and leave the Malfoy's to  the remains of their fortune. Cowards.

"It's been good to see you, best wishes to the family." He raised his head, revealing a crooked smile.


End