For a while afterwards, all Narcissa Malfoy could do was breathe. Her relief and joy were so overwhelming they all but crippled her, and drawing in deep gasps of air while basking in these two long forgotten emotions was all her exhausted mind could cope with. Her arms shook as she cradled her son- or perhaps that was Draco, trembling as the adrenaline that carried him through the past few hours ebbed away. However, she believed that the thing she was most grateful for was her husband's hand, firm at the small of her back. And yet, this was the most insecure factor remaining now that he was gone. She did not fear for her son, for he was young and innocent enough. She did not worry about herself, because she had been instrumental in Harry Potter's victory. But the man beside her- he had not redeemed himself. He was a Death Eater to them, less than human. Already, the men he had once called his friends, the ones that were not dead, were being rounded up to stand trial. What would happen to him?

Lucius shifted closer to his family, almost imperceptibly. His arm slid around his wife's shoulders, thumb brushing her neck, and he reached out to push Draco's hair from his face, if only to touch him, to reassure himself that they were truly here, that this was real. Every inch of his body ached, but his spirits soared with a freedom he thought had been lost to him forever.

Maybe it still would be.

All around them, the shouts of the joyous echoed- they had won the war, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was dead at last, there would be peace from now on. But it was not over yet. Aurors were already capturing the fleeing Death Eaters- those that were not dead. Lucius glanced down at the woman in his arms, wondering if she'd witnessed her sister's death. But her lovely face was smooth, the worry that had sat heavy upon her over the past months lifted. His beautiful, patient wife; she did not deserve the pain his mistakes had put them through. And his son- Draco was young, still a child, who had seen and suffered too much. Lucius knew it was his own shortcomings that resulted in the brand up his only child's arm. With a deep sigh, Lucius allowed himself to hold them closer, resting his chin gently upon Narcissa's bowed head. For a moment, they had peace.

And then, it was gone.

"Lucius Malfoy?" The man asking stood with his arms crossed, his strong jaw raised carefully. By turning his head, Lucius could that see he gripped his wand tightly. Although he hovered closest to the family, two more Aurors stood nearby, wands held at the ready. Lucius nodded once, wearily.

"Podmore," he acknowledged quietly.

"Could you come with me, please?" Although he phrased it as a request, Lucius knew he did not have an option.

"Of course," he murmured. He was not going to flee, as they obviously feared; where would he go? He would not leave his family, and there was nothing else in the world he would run to.

Lucius rose slowly, and Draco looked up, eyes wide with fear, face white. "Father," he began, uncertainly. Lucius shook his head once, and placed a hand on his son's shoulder.

"Draco, listen to me," he murmured. Podmore took half a step back, offering the illusion or privacy. "If I do not have the opportunity to say so later-"

"Father, no, you can tell them you were bewitched again, tell them-"

"Draco, be quiet." There was a hint of desperation in the boy's voice that he wished he did not have to hear. "I am proud of you," he announced quietly. Not for what the boy had done, rather, for what he had not: though he wore the Mark, he had never killed. His son was still whole, and he could have hoped for nothing better.

"Narcissa," he sighed, turning next to his wife. "My love." He kissed her once, thoroughly but briefly, drawing away to murmur softly in her ear, so quietly that even Draco could not hear, "I am so sorry."

He wanted to say more, but knew she understood; knew that if he began to specify what precisely he was apologizing for, they would be there for the rest of the night. There were a thousand things that he longed to tell her, but he settled for kissing her once more.

"Alright," he turned back to the Auror. Podmore held out his wand, and Lucius kept his expression impassive as his wrists were bound. They led him away silently and quickly, and he resisted the overwhelming urge to steal a final glance at his family.

Harry Potter ducked back into the Great Hall, and looked around. It was no longer as packed as it had been hours ago; people were returning to their families and homes. It was a new day. The injured had been either tended to or taken to St. Mungo's, and Harry was flooded with relief. It was over now, and he would be able to rest at last- rest completely and entirely, as he'd not been able to for years, perhaps since before his first birthday. He saw the Weasleys still gathered together, and ignored the pain of knowing that Fred was gone; he couldn't think about that now. His gaze continued to rove; there was Neville, still, speaking earnestly to his grandmother. And Luna there, looking blissfully calm. Two blonde heads bent close together: the Malfoys were still here. Dean and Seamus were sitting near each other and writing owls, probably assuring their parents that they had survived the battle. And over there-

Harry paused, backtracking. Two blondes? His gaze reversed, confirming what he'd first spotted: one Malfoy was missing. He inwardly sighed, knowing there was one final thing to do before he could leave. With an uneasy feeling, he approached the pair.

"Mrs. Malfoy?" he asked carefully. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

She nodded jerkily, and rose to follow him away from the buzz and chatter of the crowd, though she seemed unwilling to move too far from her son.

"I want to thank you. You saved my life," he announced uncertainly. She looked decidedly miserable, and he did not understand. Did she regret assisting in Voldemort's fall?

"Don't," she managed, shaking her head. "I only did it to find Draco." There was a false note in her voice, and Harry was further confused. Why would she lie about this?

"Still," he insisted. "If Voldemort had realized you were lying, he would have killed you."

"Would you rather I turned you in?" she hissed. "You are a child, Harry Potter. Perhaps you've faced more than any grown wizard, but you are seventeen years old. That- that- I won't call him a man, but he destroyed us. After what our family sacrificed, what we gave him..." she sucked in a quick breath, blue eyes blazing momentarily. "I used to believe in his words, but they were false and empty. He never wanted to purify the Wizarding race- he wanted all the power in the world to himself." Then, her eyes dimmed, and she glanced back at her son. "Never mind. You won your battle- go celebrate."

"Where's your husband?" he blurted, curiosity getting the better of him. He could not comprehend why Lucius Malfoy would so quickly leave the family he'd sought to reunite.

Mrs. Malfoy's eyes turned icy. "You would know better than I, Potter. It was your people that took him."

Lucius fought to keep his masklike expression in place as they neared the gates of Azkaban. He'd hoped to never see the place again, and yet here he stood, surrounded by guards and staring up at the foreboding fortress. He did not want to be locked up again.

Perhaps he should fight.

They would kill him immediately; they were clearly looking for any excuse to use their wands. He would not have to set foot in the dismal prison again... The idea was tempting.

Gritting his teeth, Lucius moved forward. He would not cause his wife more pain; would not disappoint his son any further. Dying now would be selfish and cowardly, he realized wryly.

"We've got Lucius Malfoy," announced Podmore, leading him into the icy stone hallway that served as a registration area. There was more activity than usual- men and women were being released, while others were being moved from the large, temporary holding rooms into their own individual cells, and still more, like Lucius, were being pushed into the holding rooms.

"Number Three," the woman nodded her head towards one of the doors off the main corrider. "I'll move him to the top of the list."

So he was to be questioned and convicted sooner rather than later, it seemed. He looked around the room as Podmore deposited him there and strode off, locking the door behind him.

It was bleakly bright- the walls and ceiling were painfully white, and no windows looked in. The concrete floor was a scuffed grey, probably whitewashed at some point, but thousands of feet had darkened it. A low wooden bench ran around the room on each of the four sides, breaking only at the exit. Stifling a weary sigh, Lucius sank onto an empty portion and began to study his fellow inmates.

A filthy, battered man with yellowing teeth sat a little ways down the wall, staring at his grubby nails. Lucius was reminded strongly of Greyback, and wondered if perhaps this was another werewolf that had joined the Dark lord's legions. The bench on the next wall was empty, but a beautiful woman, drenched in blood, sat rigidly near the door. She twitched occasionally, an expression of extreme outrage skewing her perfect features, and Lucius realized that she was fully but invisibly bound. Probably Silenced, too. He had not known the Veelas were being used, but then, there was much that had been kept from him since his fall from favor.

However, what interested Lucius the most was the group of six or seven men and women, looking scarcely of of their Hogwarts years, sitting huddled together on the final bench. His entry seemed to have caused much excitement amongst them, as all were now whispering rapidly and shooting him looks ranging from terrified to reverent, with a good deal of curiosity in between. At last, one seemed to summon a great deal of nerve and rose to her feet.

She had large green eyes and a tangle of brown curls, and her face was smudged with dirt and a bit scratched but she seemed otherwise unharmed.

"Mr. Malfoy?" she approached him cautiously, stilling for a moment when he quirked one brow at her, but pressing on when he did not bid her to stop. "Mr. Malfoy," she repeated, dropping to her knees before Lucius in order to address him. "It... It's such an honor to meet you!" she blurted at last, staring up at him with feverish eyes. Although this girl looked nothing like her, he thought suddenly of Bellatrix. "Is it over? He's not..."

"The Dark lord is dead," he told her coldly. Several of her companions gasped or cried out- she placed a horrified hand over her lips for a moment, before determination stole over her face.

"He's not! He was apprehended once before, but he returned more powerfully than ever! He'll come back again, and take the entire Wizarding world next time! He was more than a man, he cannot-"

"Be quiet," Lucius snapped, and was surprised to see that she immediately obeyed, apparently less like Bella than he'd begun to think. "You're the eldest Selwyn girl, aren't you?"

She nodded eagerly, obviously thrilled to be recognized. "And you're Lucius Malfoy. I've read all about you, Mr. Malfoy, I know that during the first war you were among his most powerful Death Eaters..." She spoke the title longingly. "My father's told me about you, too, told me that the Dark lord actually has been inhabiting your home-" Here, her voice seemed to break with envy. Obviously, tales his disgrace had not yet reached her ears.

"I know, Mr. Malfoy, that you can help us." She turned, and waved her friends over. They all approached nervously, and settled in a semi-circle around his feet. Lucius was taken aback by the act of servility, but did not let them see. Only one did not join them on the floor; a slim young man with a skeptical look in his eyes. He stood near the rest, arms crossed and chin tilted defiantly.

"We have to get out of here first," said the tallest of the group, a boy with short black hair and grey eyes. He shot a covert glance at the Selwyn girl as he spoke, as if looking for her approval. "They have our wands, but they haven't bound us. As a group we might be able too..." he drifted off, still eyeing the brunette hopefully, not looking at Lucius at all. She did not seem to notice.

Rodolphus, he thought with a strange mingling of panic and nostalgia. "Warrington, right?" he asked, recognizing him as the brother of one of Draco's peers. The boy nodded in affirmation. He needed to set these youth straight immediately.

"He is dead."

"You swore that before!" cried Selwyn, "but he came back!"

"That was different!" Lucius replied with a quelling look. "There was mystery surround his death the first time- he had vanished, Potter remained an inexplicable question. But I saw his body, I watched him die. Surrender yourself and the new regime will show mercy. I do not ask you give up your beliefs- there is nobility in your blood, wizards should rule over Muggles and Mudbloods- but choose your battles well. Place no more in faith or energy in the Dark lord, but I am not criticizing your ideology."

"Porrima," Warrington was watching the green-eyed girl uncertainly. She whirled to look at him, eyes blazing.

"You can't believe that, Thuban! He's not gone! I wish I could contact him... Oh, if only I had the Mark..." Porrima stared longingly at her unblemished left forearm. "He promised we would," she said, turning back to Lucius. "Once we were a bit older, once we'd proved ourselves..." She eyed Lucius's arm, and he knew what she would ask before the words left her mouth. "Can I see it?"

Lucius looked down at his own hand, and saw that it was bloody. Frowning, he pushed back his sleeve, revealing his Dark Mark. Or at least- what had been. Now, it was an indistinguishable, gory mess; as though what had once been a skull and snake had exploded out of his skin when Voldemort fell. He could not recall feeling any pain at the time, but admittedly, his physical pain had been such over the past few months that he doubted this wound would even register. Besides, his relief at finding Draco whole and alive had outweighed all else.

"Mr. Malfoy," the standing boy, leaning forward to better see the remains of the Mark, spoke at last. "They know of our crimes, and we cannot all claim to have been under the influence of the Imperius curse."

Lucius regarded him carefully. "What is your name?"

"Algorab Agrippa."

"Well, Algorab, I suggest you confess everything. You may not escape with no punishment at all, but I think-"

"Don't!" interrupted Porrima, "don't say it! He told us if we were loyal, if we remained faithful- he said our talents matched none he'd ever seen- that we would be the ones to help him rule over weak Muggles-" she broke off abruptly, apparently having said too much. At last, the pieces fell into place.

"I see," Lucius replied silkily. "And I suppose you believed him."

The shout of outrage was not from Porrima alone; Thuban's voice rose above the others. "Of course we did- we do!"

"Do you take me for a fool?" Lucius snarled. "Do you think I do not see what has been happening? Strange, isn't it, that the Inner Circle never knew of your existence? He told you that, when they time came, you would replace us. Didn't he? When we were weak, no longer of use to him?"

The group fell silent. They glanced at one another nervously, before Algorab spoke at last.

"Yes. That is precisely what he told us."

"So you see? You see how loyalty was rewarded by him? Us, his Death Eaters, his most unwavering followers, replaced by a bunch of teenagers."

"I wouldn't have been a replacement! We would have been an improvement, escalated his power, once we were fully trained..."

"You are nothing more than back-up plans, in case his originals failed him," he told them coldly. "And I strongly suggest that, when it comes time for you to stand trial, you admit your guilt and beg for forgiveness."

"Lucius Malfoy."

He looked up, and saw that several guards waited for him. He rose, and turned only to address one of the group. "You know it to be true."

Algorab nodded once, and Lucius moved into the main hall. However, instead of being led into an interrogation chamber, he was brought once more to the front desk. The witch lifted a parchment and began to read:

"Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, you are hereby acquitted of all withstanding accusations and crimes by the express request of Harry James Potter who, acting as a witness, claims that you and your family were instrumental in the fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and without such given assistance it is all but certain that the Wizarding world would have fallen, and thanks you for sparing his own personal life."

She rolled up the parchment with a flourish, and waited for his reaction.

It was a lie. Narcissa had said that the boy was dead, but he himself had had no part in it. Was it possible that the boy, in an act of gratitude towards his wife, had intervened to spare Lucius from imprisonment?

Slowly, a smirk began to twist Lucius's aristocratic features. He found that his wrists were no longer bound before him, and brushed a crease from his dirty, torn robes. "Ah, justice."