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In the land of Gods and Monsters	By : valkyrie136 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 18065 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does. No money or profit is made from this story.

Chapter List
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‘…it was only after I lost everything that I was able to see how reprehensible my actions were.’
Candles illuminated a small gathering of witches and wizards; some were old: their skin like leather, stretched over brittle bone. They knew their time was short and yet they were here. In a dusty room with dingy windows and uncomfortable seating.
Alongside them were the very young—fledgling witches and wizards about to being their career as a student, young adults prepared to reject and condemn the speaker, and weary adults whose curiosity got the best of them.
Yes, it seemed even despite his long list of sins, Lucius Malfoy managed to draw them all. But the most brilliant bit was his powerful story: that of redemption. A man who dedicated his life to supporting the subjugation of all muggle born and eradicating any possibility that they be treated as equals; yes it was a powerful story.
Narcissa Malfoy sat at his left. She looked every part the supportive wife, her beautiful face free of any enhancements—looking every bit as if she had been to hell and back and was now here, sharing her journey.
‘So basically you are admitting that it was fear that led to your change,’ Sneered a young man. A young man who had fought against the dark lord and who seemed hell bent on revealing Lucius’s story as nothing more than a lie.
Lucius gave him a sad smile, ‘It would seem that way. That was certainly the case the first round.’ He glanced at his wife, and she placed a supportive hand on his knee.
As if he were an old man, tired and battle scarred, he slumped in his chair. ‘I wanted to protect my family. I love my family. But in pursuing what I believed to be the truth…I only managed to harm them. To nearly destroy them.’
Lucius turned his gaze on a young muggle boy, ‘I am a man committed to tradition. Stasis. Change is…unnerving, to say the least. Muggles are the personification of that, because they bring with them foreign ideas. Ideas that I did not like.’ He paused, ‘Once I realized this, my world collapsed. I became depressed. I realized I was fighting the wrong foe. There was a right way and a wrong way—I can keep my traditions, and I don’t have to fight for them by hurting muggles…’
‘….And that, my darling, was beautifully said.’
Narcissa poured a glass of wine for herself and her husband. Lucius gave her a self-satisfied, smug smile before reaching out for the wine.
‘Can you believe that it was only my fifth show and already Kingsley is approaching me? He would like me to be a liaison for the Ministry—a kind of diplomat to ‘reach out’ to dark witches and wizards. I told him I would have to think about it.’
‘Darling, you should have said yes.’
Lucius stared into the flames of the fire, the light dancing across his fair, almost vampiric features. ‘I want them to think that I am still struggling. It lends a kind of authenticity to my actions.’ He glanced at his son, who lounged on the settee. ‘Draco, I hope you are paying attention. You are going to need to use every skill if you hope to be successful upon your return to school. Times are not kind to the righteous, and we are a persecuted lot.’
Draco flung himself backward, so that his pose appeared even more negligent. He drew one knee up to his chest, all the while smiling as if amused. He barely managed to suppress his own smile.
‘But of course, father.’ He adjusted his position so that his head was now resting on the edge of the settee, staring up at the white ceiling of his home. It was smooth, with no cracks. None at all. Perfect and unchanged, as it had been for the last three centuries.
How…uninteresting. And yet it was enough to make him laugh. Here he lay, listening to his father prattle on about his little games, and he was studying the ceiling. It was ridiculous. He couldn’t help it. He laughed.
‘Care to share what you find so funny?’ His father’s voice was soft. Dangerously so.
Instead of intimidating him, as it once had, it only served to amuse him more.
Without a care for the consequences, he asked in the most conversational of voices:
‘Do you want me to suck Kingsely’s cock too?’ He turned his head sideways, and watched his father who did not seem to share the same amusement. ‘Because anyone who has managed to so neatly fool anyone must have--‘
He never got to finish.
There was a crack, loud and sharp. His mother was still. He saw her out of the corner of his eye. And his father was standing over him, and Draco was on the floor.
He licked the corner of his lip. The metallic taste of blood greeted his senses. Draco felt alive, his fingers curling into fists and he turned his face up to his father’s, an even wider grin on his face, ‘Why are you so angry father?’
Time froze for a moment. Draco steered into the eyes of a monster, controlled by a lust for power and avarice. It was a joke. God was laughing and Draco could here him, and he laughed too.
He saw his father draw his leg back, preparing to kick him in the ribs.
He heard his mother cry out.
Draco was faster than him. He had the advantage of age. He could have avoided it. But he wanted him to kick him, because fuck him.
The pain was debilitating, but he couldn’t seem to stop laughing.
The bones had to be broken, he dimly thought.
His father kept kicking him, shouting, ‘I am your father, you will respect me!’
He shot up and threw himself at his father.
They fell to the floor, in a tangle of limbs, each fighting to dominate the other.
Draco won. He kneeled over his father and began to punch him, pounding his face with his fists. He was going to destroy him, smash him, the worthless piece of shit.
But Draco forgot how ruthless his father was, just as he forgot how much his mother loved him.
He was flung away, and Lucius launched himself at him.
Now it was Draco whose face was being pounded.
He felt blood fill his mouth and he coughed.
Only when he thought he was going to die, when he felt the blood bubbling out of his mouth and was certain that his father really would kill him, did he stop.
His vision was fuzzy, but he saw his mother run over, past his father. And only then did she kneel beside him. Administering her first aid.
He felt like laughing, but he could only choke on his own blood.
Pushing his mother away he managed to stand. ‘I appreciate the lesson, father.’
His mother reached out to him, ‘Draco—‘
Lucius closed the distance between them in two long strides. He was pushed back against the wall, and his father brought his face so close that for a minute it was as if he were going to kiss him.
His voice was barely audible, as he whispered just for his ears, ‘Disrespect me again, and you will wish you were never born, son.’ Lucius wiped some of the blood way, the way one might expect a parent to clean up an infant, and his father laughed under his breath before releasing him.
Like he were letting go of trash. Lucius Malfoy carefully removed a silk hankerchief from his robes and wiped away the blood before dropping it at Draco's feet.
Without his support, Draco felt himself falling to the floor. He did not even try to catch himself. It hurt like hell, and he welcomed the pain.
He couldn’t talk, but he knew when he had lost a round. As always, Lucius Malfoy came out on top and Draco could only cough up blood.
He did not know whether to laugh or cry.
But his father could not read minds.
Too late.
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In the land of Gods and Monsters