AN: Here is the multi-chapter story I promised! Just a heads up, this story will not be canon-friendly. That said, this won't be some bizarre HP alternate universe. Bad guys are still bad, good guys are still trying to rid their world of the darkness; but expect changes to the storyline. This story starts about two years after the ministry break-in. Draco did not let Death Eaters into Hogwarts; Theo Nott did. Dumbledore is dead, but not by Snape's hand. Snape is still a spy for the Order but is not Headmaster. Draco finished school at Hogwarts; Harry, Ron and Hermione did not return for their 7th year but instead became very involved in the Order.

CHAPTER ONE: CATALYST

How the mighty have fallen. This was the thought that had a never-ending loop within Lucius Malfoy's mind. For over a year now the once proud patriarch of the Malfoy dynasty had been relegated to the role of disrespected servant within his own home. He could barely stand to walk by the portraits of his ancestors. Even they jeered and scorned him.

It had all started with that blasted prophesy. Why couldn't someone else, someone expendable, retrieve the thing? No, he was the one that had been stuck with the task. And he had been outdone by a crew of gangly teenagers and the goody-goody Order. Afterward being apprehended and sent to prison did nothing for his standing with Voldemort, although in hindsight, it was probably a blessing to be away from the reach of his wrath for the failure. And when finally he was able to escape that place …..well, he didn't exactly get a welcome home cheer. More like, "Hi-ho, Crucio!" He grimaced to himself at the memory. His lord's sick sense of humor must be rubbing off on him. But there was nothing funny about feeling one's body about to explode from sheer agony. Now it was he and his family that were caught in the proverbial spider's web and were having to grovel before a madman. Like peasants. Actually, slaves would be a more fitting description, he thought dismally as he looked around. If Lucius was going to be honest with himself (not that he had a great deal of experience with that virtue), he would have to admit he made a serious error of judgement in joining the Dark Lord's ranks.

The Dark Lord. Humph, he almost snorted. There was nothing lordly or noble about that half-blood psychopath, unless being the most skilled murderer in wizarding history was counted as a qualification of rule.

Rule. That was what Voldemort cared about. What he wanted. And what he would never share. Voldemort did not, could not care about blood, about purity. There was nothing pure about the man. And if only to himself, Lucius admitted there was nothing pure about his followers, either. He now despised the Mark on his arm, that sick sign to the world that he was branded and counted as part Voldemort's herd, just one of his bulls. But with the horns cut off. What, Lucius thought bleakly, would Voldemort cut off next?

He wished he had never met Tom Riddle.

What a fool I've been, Lucius sighed.

To give up all he had been given for this. And he had given up much. His father, Abraxas Malfoy, had trained him since he had been old enough to walk on how to be a Malfoy. Malfoys were regal. The European Malfoys were the closest the wizarding world had to royalty. Always remember that, his father had said. Never lower yourself to commonality. It's a mark of good breeding to be gracious, but never let others forget their place, nor should a Malfoy ever forget theirs. Malfoys were meant to lead and to be followed. To be an example of excellence to all. That was the responsibility and burden all Malfoys should bear.

What his father had preached, Lucius had practiced and then some. His father's noblesse oblige, the obligation of the nobility, had turned into his le droit de la noblesse, the entitlement of the nobility. Lucius had thought it beneath him to worry about the welfare or regard of others; he had been so consumed by his own self-importance, what others thought of him hadn't concerned him at all. If they did not agree with him and give him the respect he thought was due his name, they were automatically branded as misfits, idiots and worthy of his contempt. That, he had often sneered, was good enough for them.

But look where his hubris had taken him.

The prison sentence.

His wand confiscated.

Several vaults of his wealth gone.

His ancestral home overrun by vermin and brigands of the lowest kind.

Men who had once cowered before the name of Malfoy now mocked and belittled him as his lord looked on approvingly. Men who went about with perfect freedom, defiling rooms with deeds of the most shocking nature; so shocking, that if his ancestors could have seen ahead to know about it, they would have disinherited Lucius for allowing it to happen on Malfoy land.

As for Narcissa, his wife was now little better than a scullery maid, having been relegated to that position after all the house elves had either broken their servitude to the Malfoy family and fled or had been unfortunate enough to disappoint one of the house guests and been killed for the offense.

And Draco…..ah, my poor son, Lucius thought.

Draco had the worst of it. Having been raised as a spoiled pampered prince, he had been shocked beyond belief to see his proud father turned into an object of ridicule. To be an object of ridicule himself. And worse. Snatchers and lower level sycophants of Voldemort loved to pass the time whispering thinly veiled innuendos to Draco in situations where he couldn't defend himself. Threatening him with what they would do to him if given the chance. And his lord had ignored it all, Lucius fumed. Although he thought they were just trying to intimidate the boy into taking the Mark that had so far been resisted, Lucius couldn't be sure. While he had been at Hogwarts Draco had been safe, but here at home he had begun to carry one of his father's hunting knives in his boot, just in case. To never let his wand leave his hand, even when he slept. And especially when he showered. Lucius hated the haunted look in his son's eyes and the darkening purple skin under them. To see his clothing hang on him like a sheet. Seeing his son brought to this state made Lucius hang his head in shame for the first time in his life. Draco should not have to suffer for his horribly wrong choices. He knew he would have to take action soon, for his son's safety, if for no other. This cannot continue.

A growing rumble in the air stopped Lucius in his thoughts. A gathering of death eaters was beginning to form in the once palatial ballroom within the manor. Lucius quickly moved behind one of the columns near the front entrance of the room and lowered his eyes so as to avoid any unnecessary attention but listened intently to the conversation swirling around him.

"Does anyone know why we're being summoned?"

"I 'eard news that the Order was disbanding."

Lucius shook his head. Idiots, he thought. That will never happen. They would rather die first.

"Eh…..that can't be true. We had a skirmish with their lot yesterday."

Lucius perked up his ears at that.

"Our Lord wanted to hit them in a new way. A way that would hurt, not just them, but those who aren't loyal to our cause."

Lucius tightened in alarm at that. That could mean nothing good for his family.

"What does that mean?"

Yes, thought Lucius, explain that.

"I think it means we're in for a bit of fun tonight."

"Do you think the Dark Lord will announce another revel?" a snatcher named Hedley asked the man that had been talking. "If he does, I hope he'll give us the Malfoy brat."

"Watch your gob, you twit," another snatcher hissed. "This is his home were in and that's his father there," he said pointing to Lucius. "He still wears the mark and could ask for your hide."

"What? Him? Nah, he's nothing now to the likes of you and me," Hedley crowed without any apparent fear of Lucius standing nearby. "Look at 'em. Can't even look us in the eye, now can he?"

The other snatcher snuck at glance at Lucius. He wished he hadn't.

Everyone has their limit, and Lucius had unknowingly just reached his. When he heard what that insignificant little man said about his son, he saw red and all thoughts of discretion and caution flew out the window. Without thinking of the consequences, he raised his cane and jabbed the man hard in the chest. Down on the black and white marble floor the snatcher went like a domino. Quickly moving over him, Lucius pinned him to the ground with his cane and threatened, "If you EVER even comeCLOSE to my son, I will have you filleted like a fish. This is MY home, MY land and MY floor you are now dirtying with your presence. Do not test me, filth."

There glittered such a madness in Lucius' eyes that neither man thought it an empty threat.

A pause filled the air. Then a soft voice spoke.

"Lucius…..what are you doing?" the voice that whispered was close by. Voldemort had come into the room during the confrontation without Lucius noticing.

"He's gone mad, m' Lord!" the unhurt snatcher exclaimed.

Hedley, who was still sprawled out on the floor, moaned, "He called me filth, and I am just as pure as he is, I am."

A pause again. Then the soft voice asked, "Lucius, is that the way you should treat your guest? An honored member of our cause?"

Hedley smirked when he heard that and was about to get up, but Lucius' cane pushing down again at those words prevented him from rising.

"My Lord, he is no guest of mine…

"But he is mine, Lucius."

"….Then Sir, please tell your guest that I will not allow him to speak so disrespectfully about my son."

Everyone in the room had stopped their own conversations to watch what was happening between Lucius Malfoy and Voldemort. They all recognized the power play before them; the struggle between the ancient wizardry and wealth of the Malfoy line and the newer but more deadly black magic of Voldemort. Everyone held their collective breaths when they heard those last words of Lucius. They dreaded and desired to see what would now happen to the elder Malfoy.

Voldemort's slitted eyes turned a darker red at Lucius' words. For his part, Lucius knew he had done a fool thing to speak to the Dark Lord in that manner, but if the end result took everyone's mind off of his son, he would pay that price.

"Bellatrix, would you mind collecting Narcissa and Draco?" Voldemort's smile became even crueler. "I would hate for them to miss out on what we planned for tonight."

Bellatrix smiled wickedly over at her husband and then went scampering out the door. Rodolphus followed her out.

Lucius paled at Voldemort's words. "My Lord, no!" he cried out. "Do not punish them for my insolence. I take responsibility for my own actions."

"Of course you will, Lucius. But my purpose in calling this meeting still stands." Turning around, Voldemort now spoke to the entire room. "Our fight against the Ministry and the Educational System has gone well. Propaganda has done its work, and the masses are too afraid of retribution to speak out against us. The Order is ineffective in stopping us and they well know it. I believe we may allow ourselves a little time for pleasure and revelry."

Lucius gasped at that last word while Hedley laughed. "Guess I'll get to know your son a bit better, after all," he leered as he rubbed his hands in anticipation.

Voldemort spun back to look at the snatcher. Hedley gulped. "You will not touch a hair on young Malfoy," the Dark Lord hissed. "At least…," he paused and smiled again at Lucius, "Not yet."

Lucius' heart twisted so hard in fright for his son he thought he would pass out from the fear. Instead he gripped his cane all the more tightly.

"Draco is being brought in to celebrate with us. Perhaps when he hears the good news of our victories, he will be more inclined to make better choices for his future." Voldemort narrowed his eyes at Lucius. "At least, I hope for his sake he will," he warned while glancing again in Hedley's direction.

Turning once again to the crowd, Voldemort called out to Rodolphus, who had just returned.

"Do you have her with you?" Lestrange nodded his head in affirmative. "She's right outside the door."

To that Voldemort replied, "Bring in the girl." To the others he said while raising his arms in cheer, "I bring you a gift to enjoy and to make merry with. She once was part of the Order but now belongs to you and to this night!"

Draco and his mother were brought into the ballroom just in time to hear Voldemort's last words. Turning to inquire of Lucius as to what was going on, they saw the horror on his face as he looked at the side entrance of the room and immediately experienced a palpable fear. Narcissa grabbed Draco's hand and turned to look in the same direction as Lucius. There in the entrance, half-held by Lestrange and barely able to stand was a young woman with pink spiked hair. Narcissa gasped. She didn't have to ask who it was. Even through the bruising and swelling of the young woman's face, she recognized the eyes, the nose, the forehead and mouth of her elder sister.

Her niece, Tonks, the niece she had never met, the one she had never even spoken the name of but still secretly ached to know was about to become the latest gang rape victim of Voldemort's followers.

And while her heart was breaking over the fate of her niece, Narcissa never saw the gleam of desire in Rodolphus' eyes that was directed solely upon her son.

But Lucius did.