Gift Ficlet

Went to the Gift Ficlet Thingy and chose two challenges, and added my own. This is for aerynalexander.
Title: Crazed Make Believes
Author: Lady_Silver
Rating: High PG-13, maybe R if your squicked by the INCEST
Summary: Lucius escapes from Azkaban, and makes his way back home.
Warnings: Incest.
Characters/pairings: Lucius/Draco, implied Sirius/Lucius
Authors Notes: This kind of skips around, it's Lucius POV, Draco's POV, then kind of third person. It's un-betaed, sorry. Anyone willing?
I don't like the beginning, but I'm fond of the end, even if it is sad.


All Lucius could think of was his father. He had been so disappointed in him that one time. He had done something wrong, had gone against the Malfoy name. The dementors loved this memory, it was the one that was replayed often. Lucius staggered around the small beach, which led into a forest. He was wet, tired, and cold. He didn’t care though. His lips were tight, and he stumbled into the forest, his pace quickening.

In a half-crazed daze, he realized he had to get back to the Manor. They would find him, all of them, they would take him back, and -no. No, that couldn’t happen, now could it? He snarled at an invisible fiend, and ran off to hopefully find the Manor still intact. They better not have touched his house. His books, his study, his wife, his heir, his potions. They were his. Well, to some extent. His son, his heir, his dragon belonged to the Dark Lord. His lord. Oh. Forgot about him. Lucius clutched his mark as he ran.

Hours later, Lucius Malfoy found himself outside his ancestral home, in quite a disgraceful state. He ran his hand through his hair, his hand shaking, his eye twitching slightly. He entered quietly. He stood tall, and the wards growled at his entrance. They let him through though, after all, he was the one who set them.

The place seemed deserted. Some of the furniture was out of place, but besides that, everything looked normal. Lucius’ mind panicked. The ministry had been here. Those bastards.
He couldn't remember the one that was out to get him the most, Beryon? Berton? He couldn't remember, but he would get him. Stupid ministry.

Lucius remembered most of his life still, even though a year or so was enough to drive some men mad. He thought that proudly, he had kept his iron wall up. He didn’t have too many good memories for the dementors to take, but enough bad ones to torture him with.

Somebody was laughing. Lucius whirled around, his eyes wide, and wild. No one was there. He frowned, and straightened back up. He walked towards the parlor.

There was a fire lit, and somebody dozing in the red, velvet winged chair. Lucius blinked, and licked his dry lips. He would summon a house elf as soon as he took care of...business. He smoothed his robes, and hair.

“Black?” Lucius said hoarsely, waking the person up. He looked startled, then smiled. Lucius saw a sixteen year old version of Sirius Black, the last time he had seen him before that wretched Potter business. That wasn’t Black’s smile though, it was a small, tight, tentative smile. Not Black’s malicious, lazy grin. There were no blazing eyes, full of hate, and lust, not all directed at him, but hate, and lust none the same.

“F-father?” Sirius asked, his voice slightly higher then Lucius remembered. He frowned. Sirius got up slowly, his eyes wide. He took a couple steps towards Lucius. Lucius snarled, and launched himself towards Black, pinning him down.
***
Draco was tired. Very tired. His mother was gone, she should be back within the next week, and his father, well, his father was still in prison. It had been little over a year, and they and just received an owl, bearing the news that Lucius was to be given the dementors kiss soon. Draco spent that night tossing, and turning, and realizing daddy wasn’t just on vacation. It wasn’t some dream he could wake up from. It was real. And he hated it, and he blamed, and hated Potter for it, and he hated, and blamed Voldemort for it, because if Voldemort hadn’t been there, this probably wouldn’t have happened. If Voldemort hadn’t been there, there would be no need to hate Potter.

Then he’d been awoken by another ministry owl; it bore news of Lucius’ escape. This was more terrifying then the thought of Lucius losing his soul. Draco had been restless the rest of the day, scaring all the house elves, and pacing non-stop. He finally settled down to read, but his thoughts drifted. He found himself asleep in his favorite chair.

He awoke slightly to a twinge, the wards alerting him of something. It felt ok though, and the wards didn’t go into defensive mode, so he figured it was his mother, and meant to get up and check. Instead, he fell back asleep, a slightly lighter one.

He awoke again to footsteps, and the sound of someone’s raspy voice. He blinked, his senses grappling, telling him to 'wake up, there might be a threat!' He stiffened, and his eyes flew open. Father. He held his breath for a moment, thinking that it was a dream. He stood up slowly, only to be pinned down by Lucius. He let out a yelp in alarm.
***
“Father? It’s Draco!” Draco cried out. He felt something at his throat. Teeth. Lucius was sitting on Draco, looking down at him in confusion.

“Oh.” Lucius said. He frowned, his hair falling in his face. Draco sighed, letting out the breath he had been holding, glad that Lucius had come to his senses. He closed his eyes, waiting for Lucius to get up.

Lucius leaned down, and Draco could feel his breath in his neck. He opened his eyes, and squirmed, his eyes not meeting Lucius’. This wasn’t the Lucius Malfoy he knew. This was some half-crazed, disgraceful man. This wasn’t his father, this was somebody broken.

Suddenly, cold, chapped lips were against his. Hands were under his shirt, and words being mumbled. White-blonde hair was tickling Draco, and he squirmed even more.

“Father?” Draco breathed, panic starting to invade his brain. He hand shot out, reaching for his wand. This couldn’t be his father, Draco thought. This half-crazed, starved, man who’s lips were trailing down his jaw line. This wasn’t his father.

Suddenly, Lucius leaped back, staring at Draco in near horror. Draco reached for his wand blindly, just in case the, imposter, was going to attack.

“Oh. Draco.” Lucius sighed, and stood up. Draco stepped back, afraid Lucius, or whomever it was, had gone crazy yet again. He didn’t. Lucius sat down in the chair Draco had vacated. He beckoned Draco over, and Draco reluctantly stepped forward. Lucius leaned forward, and smoothed Draco’s hair down. He had never done that. Yet, Draco allowed Lucius, although now Draco was sure it wasn’t Lucius, to coddle him. He sighed, and decided that Lucius was the only sane one, and the rest of the world had gone mad.
***
And as the ministry was taking Lucius away yet again, Draco sat down in his favorite chair, which now smelled of Lucius, an odd decaying version of him, and traced his lips with his finger. His hand was shaking, and he curled himself into a ball. He could here ministry officials still outside, probably looking for him, but he didn’t care. He soon fell into a light sleep, full of happy dreams, and make believes. Ones where his father was here, and his mother, and they were proud of him, and his father loved him in that way that fathers are supposed to love their children. One where they all lived happily ever after.