Woot, got the writing bug.

A wave of wand sent his 2nd year school tome into the ornate fireplace. He had been working backwards from the books he'd need when he returned to Hogwarts after the winter holiday. A laughable concept. Crabbe and Goyle spent a better part of autumn chucking their required reading at Hufflepuff second years. The better part of each class was spent with "guest lecturers"(Death Eaters) bloviating on how the material could be used to subjugate muggles or protect the purity of the wizarding race. In fact, the classes, which featured very little practical execution, resembled Umbridge's brand of teaching from 5th year. She should have gotten a patent.

Draco smiled as he remembered that the only class that soldiered on as it always had was Transfiguration. McGonagall proved herself indomitable. It will be a real loss when the Dark Lord orders her death. Another book, one adorned with the handsome grin of Gilderoy Lockhart, went soaring into the fire.

He flung his covers to the floor and dropped the abraxas stone into his dressing gown pocket. Clearly the Latin lessons with Lovegood were put on hold, indefinitely, but the stone and its potential power were still comforting.

His stomach ached with something much worse than hunger as he dragged himself to Sunday breakfast. His father had taken his frustrations out on him yesterday, and the shame still burned in his cheeks. The man had been the right hand of the most powerful wizard on the planet, and now? He was barely lord of his son. Draco managed little pity for the man as he scratched at the Dark Mark on his arm.

His father sat reading the Daily Prophet at the head of long table in their dining room, but both his mother and aunt were absent. Lucius heard his son approach and peer over his paper. As held he Draco's gaze he called out, "Sappy, bring Draco his brunch." The house elf appeared and silently set a place for Draco at the left of his father. Draco lost his father to the large folds of the Prophet as he crossed to sit beside him. Sappy bowed unacknowledged and disapperated.

Draco cut his eggs and bacon, satisfied that the only conversation that his father would hear from him was the clicking of the silverware. Of course, Lucius Malfoy was a man rarely so satisfied.

"Boy…" He began carefully.

"Old man?"Draco returned lightly. Lucius slammed his paper on to the table, knocking his juice glass to the floor.

"YOUR TONE—"

"—Is the least of your problems, I think. Honestly, Father, you sit here like you aren't a prisoner in your own home, reading the goddamn Prophet! What, checking your investments? I'll save you the time: They're shit. Everything is shit."

Lucius smiled, and snapped his fingers, summoning Sappy to clean up the mess. It was an old smile; one Draco was used to but hadn't seen in some time. Still, the recent lines and cracks on his father's face rendered the grin somehow both more sinister and pathetic.

"That's a bit more drama than I usually allow at breakfast, Draco, especially when we're graced with the rare treat of your aunt's absence. I'll let pass your vile expectoration and attribute it to childish dramatics. You're afraid, I know.

"Of course I'm—"

"—We've stumbled. I've stumbled. You have, as well," He paused and gave his son a knowing look. "But our family has a dynasty over one thousand years old. We've reigned beside dark princes, kings, and conquerors, whose lineages lasted less than a generation. We will not be snuffed out, the idea is laughable."

"The Malfoy name is laughable. Father, the Dark Lord pays us no favors."

"The Dark Lord? Why, I think they stylized Armand Malfoy the same way, after he helped William the Conqueror take the English throne. Ramsay Malfoy was also referred to by that title in his own time and then, only in whispers. "Lucius' grin broadened. "Winds change, a Slytherin knows this."

"Winds change? A Slytherin knows? ALL THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN BLOODY WELL USEFUL BEFORE I GOT THIS!" Draco shouted and thrust his blackened forearm at his father.

Lucius' eyes narrowed and even the memory of the earlier smile forgotten. "I am head of this family, you've forgotten. You've forgotten who we are and what your mother and I have given you," Draco subtly placed a hand over his clothes and felt the coolness of his stone. "I suggest you spend some time in our library educating yourself on the Malfoy legacy, before I include you in any further plans." Draco thought of Radagast's diary and didn't know if he wanted to laugh or cry hysterically. He's really off his rocker if he thinks a little homework will solve our problems. "I'll excuse myself to the library then, and leave you to your…plans."

Draco did go to the library, but only to think on his father's words. He had the Malfoy family history memorized. Or at least the selected history that Father and Mother loved to regale guests with at parties hosted at the manor. Still, while Lucius was clearly delusional and in denial of the direness of their current situation, the greatness and endurance of the Malfoy line was a fact of history. Fine, let father plan his plans and pretend he is still leading our family into a new era. I will make sure we succeed in this one.

And with that promise, Draco rose and made his way to the cellar.

A/N I wanted to do a chapter that paralleled the Mother and Son interaction between Draco and Narcissa from a few chapters ago. I like how this came out and I prefer this delusional Lucius to the typical broken down and pathetic version. Next up is a diary chapter, which should be fun to write and read. Let me know what you think of this chapter and what you think will go down when Draco returns to Hogwarts in a bit. Reviews are lovely.