The Difference Between Life and Dreams…

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Written By:
LegolasLover2003 aka Ashley aka LuciusLover2003

Category:
Fanfiction - Books - Harry Potter

Genre:
Angst/Drama

Disclaimer:
I do not own anything related to Harry Potter. It is all J.K. Rowlings. I also do not own Jason Isaacs... just thought I'd throw that in there since this is Lucius centered...

Note:
This story takes place between the events of "The Order of the Pheonix" and "The Half Blood Prince". There will also be flashbacks to other books and to points completely made up by me.

Present Day

It was magnificent. Such a thing, the boy had never seen before, and yet now it sat on his father’s desk, in plain sight. His mother had told him it was his father’s wish, should something happen to him, that he be given the pensieve and it’s contents, and be allowed to view them in their entirety.
Now, as Draco Malfoy stood, perched just over the bowl, he wondered to himself if he really wanted to know what secrets it held. Having been hidden in Malfoy Manor for years and kept from the prying eyes of Ministry officials, the pensieve held many of his father’s most important, most secret, and most personal memories.
Did he really wish to know his father’s past, a thing Lucius rarely talked about, if ever?
Draco pondered these things, but before he knew it, his mother was at his side, tapping the slowly moving liquidy substance within the pensieve.
Narcissa smiled as she watched the first memory drift to the surface. It was not one of Lucius’ own, she knew, but it was important all the same.
“Are you sure I should…” but before Draco could finish his sentence, he felt himself falling from a great height.

June 13th, 1954

“Are you sure?”
The house elf bowed low, her draping of a cloth brushing the ground almost completely, “Yes Master. The child’s hair is white.”
“And his eyes?”
Once more the house elf’s bow lowered even further, if it were possible. “Grey, Master.”
Abraxas Malfoy frowned deeply, a smoldering anger evident in his eyes. “But the child is heathly?”
“Yes, Master.” Replied the house elf timidly, “The medi-wizard says he is.”
The man’s cold blue eyes turned to the door, wishing he could see the events transpiring within.
“He says also you can go inside.” Squeaked the house elf, cowering in fear of her late news.
Abraxas glared at the pitiful creature, “Why did you not tell me this before, wretch!” he whispered harshly before striking out at the house elf with a harsh kick of his boot.
As the house elf lay whimpering in pain, clutch what was surely a broken rib from the cracking sound, the head of Malfoy manor burst in through the door, eager to see what had become of everything.
“My pathetic excuse for a house elf has just told me that…”
The medi-wizard and medi-witch both looked at Malfoy for a moment. The witch shook her head sadly, though the wizard took a few steps forward.
“The boy is fine.” The medi-wizard said, “But we have some…”
“Then she bore me a son.” Abraxas found himself saying, overly pleased to hear the news. “Even if he looks a bit off from normal children.”
“By Merlin, sir, do you not care to know how your wife fared?” the witch interrupted.
Abraxas’ eyes found her and the woman’s stature seemed to immediately shrink. “Very well, I shall humor you. How is my wife?”
Both wizard and witch looked at the man as if he were mad.
How could he not care about his wife?
The wife who had just bore him a son!
“Sir, I regret to inform you that your wife died during the birth of your son. We did everything possible to save her but…”
“But she was weak.” Abraxas finished for them, looking like he could care less. “It is no matter. She served her purpose of carrying on the Malfoy line.”
“His name then?” the medi-witch asked, trying to overcome her shock at the man’s harsh words.
Abraxas thought on this for a moment.
“Lucius. Lucius Malfoy.”
And, without even looking at the newborn child, he turned his back on the medi-wizard, witch, and his ever loyal house elf, and swept from the room.

Present Day

Within moments, Draco found himself standing in his father’s study, feeling quite queasy and wondering what the purpose of seeing such memories was.
“Your grandfather.” Narcissa spoke from the boy’s side, “Was a far less compassionate man than your father, Draco. This memory was extracted from his house elf at the time.”
“But mother, why show this to me?” Draco asked, looking to her with suspicion. “What good comes of…”
“Because you need to know.” She replied calmly. “Everyday you will be learning something from this pensieve. Your father does not with you to make the same mistakes as he."