Work Text:
A WISH UPON A STAR
talesbyboredom
“The tax on the importation of dragon blood and dragon scales will increase by 3,23% in the next quarter, due to…”
Lucius Malfoy liked this moment of his day, when he sat in his comfortable chair, crafted from the finest oak, carved with delicate floral patterns and upholstered in soft green velvet, positioned beside the fireplace, while a nice tumbler of twelve-year-aged firewhisky rested in his hand as he reviewed the reports of Malfoy Corporation.
Usually, it was a ritual he enjoyed… But on that morning, already bored by tax adjustments and his employees’ endless disputes over bidding contracts, he felt a sudden tingle ripple through the wards.
Someone was coming.
What made the sensation stranger was that Draco was at Hogwarts, no doubt gloating about his position in the Inquisitorial Squad, while Narcissa remained in her music room, practicing the piano: Prelude No. 4 in E minor, Op. 28, by Chopin. A piece she favored whenever her mood darkened, as it often did these days, now that the Dark Lord had returned, summoning her husband at will and watching her son with the patience of a hunter studying its prey. Bellatrix had stopped by earlier, babbling about plans and killing, which had left Cissa more irritable than usual.
The wards signaled a Malfoy visitor, yet, aside from his wife and son, no other Malfoys remained in the world. The Manor itself seemed to recognize the arrival, its magic humming with something dangerously close to delight. Lucius, however, felt only unease.
He rose at once, his gaze fixed on the floo fireplace, yet no green flames appeared. Frowning, he crossed the room toward the large window overlooking the Manor’s entrance, but the grounds lay perfectly still. There was no apparition or visitor walking calmly through the land.
“How could you?!”
The indignant voice sounded behind him, sharp and young and Lucius turned abruptly.
A small girl stood in the middle of the room, her curly white-blonde hair framing a furious face, silver eyes identical to his own glaring up at him. She wore Hogwarts robes trimmed in scarlet and gold, a detail that only deepened his confusion. The child bore every unmistakable Malfoy trait: the hair, the eyes, the aristocratic nose, even the familiar crease forming between her brows when angered, but there had never been a Malfoy in Gryffindor… Never.
“Who are you?” He demanded, instinctively stepping back until the cold glass of the window brushed against him.
“Who am I?” The girl repeated, rolling her eyes dramatically and then, a second later, she popped them wide open, like realisation struck her. “Oh, Merlin… What year is this?”
“What?” Lucius frowned. “Who are you, miss? And what are you doing in my home?”
“If you tell me what year it is…” She said impatiently, crossing her arms. “Then I can explain who I am, sir.”
Merlin help him… He had always despised Gryffindor children, as they were loud, temperamental, incapable of proper restraint. And red, he reflected irritably, did nothing to complement Malfoy blonde.
“1995.” Lucius answered, his irritation barely concealed.
“Bloody hell!” She muttered, her eyes widening in alarm. “I went back too far, oh Gods, mum is going to kill me.”
“Language, young miss.” Lucius said coolly. “Now, would you care to explain who you are and what I have done to warrant you arriving uninvited in my home?” He raised an eyebrow, fixing her with a heavy glare.
“Oh, I hate when you look at me like that.”
“And when have I ever looked at you at all, child?” He questioned, arching a brow.
She walked past him as though she belonged there, ignoring his question, heading straight for a cabinet in the corner. With unsettling familiarity, she opened its doors and reached between stacks of books and parchments before retrieving a very specific bottle.
“Here.” She said, offering it to him. “I think you’ll need this.”
A hundred-year-aged firewhisky, distilled by Blishen himself.
No one knew about that bottle… No one but Lucius. His grandfather had gifted it to him on his wedding day and he reserved it only for moments of consequence, like when Draco was born, making him the happiest man alive or when the Dark Lord fell after killing the Potters, making Lucius briefly believe Azkaban was inevitable.
“How did you…? What… Who are you?” He demanded again, suddenly tempted to tear at his own hair in frustration.
“Sit down, have a drink and I’ll explain everything…” She said lightly, then she smiled. “Grand-père.”
Lucius simply stared at her.
Yes… Damn it… This most certainly required a drink.
He walked back to his favourite chair, scarcely aware of the steps that carried him there. Lowering himself into the seat, he watched as the girl moved about the room, conjuring a second glass and pouring him a generous measure of Blishen’s Firewhisky.
She did it without a wand, an impressive display of magic for someone who appeared far too young. To show such a power at such a young age, she must for certainty be a Malfoy, he thought without humility.
The girl remained beside him, observing carefully as he took a sip, attempting a smile that was clearly meant to be reassuring, though the effort only resulted in an unfortunate grimace.
“Stop doing that.” Lucius said after a moment. “It does nothing for my nerves. In fact, your attempt at smiling is rather alarming.”
“Yes, well… Scorp is much better at comforting people than I am.” She admitted, sitting cross-legged on the floor and absently playing with the hem of her robes.
“Scorp?”
“Oh, right… 1995.” She winced. “Scorpius Lucius Malfoy. My older brother, who’s currently in his sixth year at Hogwarts and who is probably thinking that I’m attending Herbology with Professor Longbottom, right now.”
“Your brother…” Lucius murmured, so quietly she was unsure whether he spoke to her or merely to himself. “So, supposedly, I have a grandson.” His gaze sharpened immediately. “He is not a Gryffindor as well, is he?” He asked, eyeing her scarlet-trimmed robes with open suspicion.
She snorted. “He wishes to be cool like this, but Scorp is a Slytherin. And just so you know…” She added smugly. “I’m still your favourite.”
“I rather doubt that.” Lucius said at last, his voice thin with disbelief. “I must be losing my mind. There is simply no conceivable explanation for this. A granddaughter appeared out of nowhere, claiming descent from my son… No. This borders on absurdity.” His pale gaze narrowed slightly. “Is this some elaborate deception? A joke? Has Bellatrix decided to meddle with my thoughts for her own deranged amusement?”
“No, grand-père. I’m real. This is real. I’m here and I’m your granddaughter. See?” She leaned closer without hesitation, silver eyes wide and earnest. “I inherited your eyes. Dad was disappointed, he’d hoped I’d have Mum’s hazel ones, but apparently I’m just the female version of him. Mum’s always joking that she carried us for nine months, with morning sickness and swollen feet, only to give birth to two perfect Malfoy replicas.”
Lucius instinctively leaned back.
“Do not come so close.” He said sharply. “Familiarity does not constitute proof.”
And yet… He looked. Really looked.
The colour was unmistakable, as it was that cold and metallic silver carried through generations of Malfoys. Even the way she held his gaze lacked submission, there was pride there, effortless and untrained. The same certainty of belonging that he saw in his father, in himself and in his son… Malfoy arrogance.
His fingers tightened subtly against the armrest.
“So…” He continued, forcing composure back into his tone. “You expect me to believe that Draco has produced not one, but two children: a boy and a girl.” His lip twitched faintly. “Highly irregular, as is well known that Malfoys traditionally produce a single heir and they are invariably male.”
His eyes lingered on her curls again, wilder than the family’s usual fair hair, undeniably inherited elsewhere. Yet the posture, the chin lifted in quiet defiance, the refusal to shrink under scrutiny… Disturbingly familiar.
Lucius exhaled slowly. “…You do, however, possess certain traits that are difficult to dismiss.”
“Yes, well, Grand-mère says it’s probably because of my mum’s powerful magical core and Dad insists it’s because his love for her is so great that it blessed the Malfoy line with an additional heir.” She made a face. “It’s honestly revolting, the way he keeps declaring his love with those sheepish speeches and all the touching… Oh, there is so much touching! Truly, it’s excessive. You should probably talk to him right now and tell him not to touch his wife so much in front of his children. It's disturbing.”
Lucius allowed himself a faint smile.
“I cannot do that, child. Malfoy men love with deep devotion.” He took another sip of firewhisky. “It is our curse.”
His expression softened slightly.
“So… Scorpius is my grandson’s name. And yours? You have yet to introduce yourself.”
“I’m Cassiopeia Jean Malfoy, but everyone calls me Cassie.” She said, puffing out her chest with unmistakable pride, exactly as Draco used to do when he was younger. “I’m in my fourth year at Hogwarts. Gryffindor, as you can see.”
“And from which year do you come?” Lucius asked, leaning closer, studying her. She looked so much like Draco, save for the freckles scattered across her cheeks.
“I’m from 2020. Wild, right?” Cassie said easily. “You actually look almost the same in my time. Like you’ve aged maybe five years. Aunt Ginny confessed she thought you were hot when she was young, but we all know that she mostly says that just to annoy dad.” She laughed at the memory and Lucius liked that sound, so youthful and truthful. “Dad hexed her once when she fanned herself after seeing you at one of mum’s Ministry events. She coughed feathers for four days.”
“Ginny…” Lucius repeated slowly. “As in Ginevra Weasley?”
“Yes, but she is actually a Potter now. We like the Weasleys, Grand-père, and the Potters, but that’s not the point right now.” She rolled her eyes and lay flat on the floor, folding her hands over her stomach. “It’s strange being here, in a different time. Your study looks the same, but at the same time, it doesn’t. There are no photographs of Scorp and me. You know… There’s one in particular that I know you’re very fond of and so am I.”
“Which one?” He asked, curiosity slipping into his tone.
“You taught Scorp how to ride a broom when he was eight. It took you two full days before he could circle the Manor without falling. You were unbearably proud, going on and on about how he would be a brilliant Quidditch player at Hogwarts, just like you and dad.” She smiled faintly at the memory. “Later, Scorp decided he needed a partner to play with, so he started teaching me. He ran to get you when he couldn’t make me stop flying upside down on his broom. Grand-mère came to see what could possibly make three Malfoys scream at the same time and that’s when she took the photo.”
Cassie laughed softly and went on.
“I’m upside down, laughing. You’re running after me and Scorp is crying because he’s convinced I’m about to die. Everyone has a copy of that picture. Honestly, it makes people smile just looking at it.”
Lucius felt warmth bloom in his chest, a sensation he had never imagined feeling for anyone beyond Narcissa and his son. But there was Cassie, lying on his rug, smiling as she described a future that made his very soul lift with something dangerously close to hope.
He wanted that future. No… He needed it.
“You two sound like a menace.” He said, his eyes shining as he tried to picture a blond boy so similar to Draco. “Your brother… What is he like?”
“Scorp is wonderful, he is my brother and my best friend.” She said immediately. “Mum always says he’s the spitting image of dad when he was younger, both in looks and in personality. Sometimes she says we look like twins, since we have the same hair and eyes. But dad says I inherited mum’s genius, so much so that I became the first Malfoy ever sorted into Gryffindor.” She grinned proudly. “Dad told me you were the only one who said I’d be a lion instead of a snake. Even mum, and she’s a Gryffindor herself, was convinced I’d end up in Slytherin.”
And there it was.
In his mind formed the image of a boy who looked like Draco and Cassie, laughing as they ran through the Manor gardens, careless and bright with childhood joy. He stood beside them in that vision, watchful, present, safeguarding their laughter, protecting them with everything he possessed.
Lucius settled more comfortably into his chair and took another sip of firewhisky, allowing himself a small smile at a future he now found himself desperate to live long enough to see.
When he looked back at his granddaughter, she was already watching him, silver eyes bright as liquid mercury.
“How did you come here, Cassie?” He asked quietly.
“So… I was in History of Magic and Professor Binns started lecturing about the Second Wizarding War. He talked about that noseless dark wizard who tried to kill Uncle Harry and rule over everyone. About his beliefs, about blood supremacy…” Her voice hardened. “And about how my beloved grandfather was a Death Eater, alongside my father.”
She turned her head toward him, anger flashing across her features, a distinctly Malfoy sneer settling into place.
“How could you?” She demanded again, her voice echoing the accusation she had spoken upon arrival. “I knew you fought in the war, but I never knew this. Death Eaters? Really?”
She pushed herself upright, magic crackling faintly at the ends of her curls, uncontrolled.
“When I heard it, I had to see you… I had to confront you. I used the passage to Hogsmeade that Uncle George showed me last year and took the public floo to the Manor, only to find you and Grand-mère were gone. Pinky told me that you two had just left for something she didn’t know of, so I stole mum’s Time-Turner to go back a few minutes and catch you…” She winced. “But I went back too far.” Her voice faltered. “Now it’s 1995, my parents are in their fifth year… And you have no idea who I am.”
Tears gathered in her eyes.
And, to Lucius Malfoy’s profound discomfort, his heart clenched at the sight. How could it be that, in less than an hour, his heart felt as though it were being torn apart simply by seeing this child, that he never met before, cry?
“Cassie…” He called softly.
“No, Grandpa!” She wiped her tears away with the back of her hands. “Mum told us about the war when it was time for us to go to Hogwarts. We knew about Voldemort, about Uncle Harry and Uncle Ron going on the run with her, how dangerous everything was, how dark things became and how she didn’t even know if she had a future.”
Her voice trembled, but she continued.
“She told us Uncle Harry only won because of grand-mère’s courage and yours too. She said the Malfoys were the ones who turned the tide, the ones who made it possible for the Light to win.” Cassie swallowed hard. “But… You were a Death Eater. Which means you believed in blood supremacy.”
“And you are the daughter of Hermione Granger, aren’t you?” Lucius asked suddenly, his eyes widening with realization.
“Yes.” She whispered, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “My mum is Hermione Granger-Malfoy.”
And only then did he truly see it, the resemblance between his granddaughter and the girl he met years ago at Diagon Alley… The same lips, the arched brows, the unruly curls, even the faint crackle of magic at the tips of her hair.
“Miss Granger… And Draco.” He murmured, unable to reconcile the thought aloud.
“The Malfoy heir and the mudblood.”
Lucius flinched at the word leaving Cassie’s mouth.
“Cassiopeia! Do not say that word!” He snapped, anger flaring, his nostrils tightening. He didn’t know why, but the word, coming out of her, felt like a knife twisting in his stomach.
“Why?” She demanded petulantly. “Isn’t that what you called her? You do know what that makes Scorp and me, don’t you? Half-bloods… The stain on the Malfoy lineage.”
“Stop.” His voice broke sharper this time. “Please, Cassiopeia. Stop.”
Lucius pressed his fingers against his temple, breathing slowly, as though attempting to steady a world that had abruptly shifted beneath his feet.
Half-bloods… His grandchildren… Draco’s children… Granger’s too.
He looked at Cassie again, trying to drink her features once more. And there it was, the silver Malfoy eyes shining through tears, the stubborn lift of her chin so painfully reminiscent of his son, the wild curls that betrayed the straight locks that he had.
And yet the Manor had welcomed her, the wards had sung with magic older than prejudice, one that had recognized her as family.
“That word…” Lucius said at last, his voice quieter now, measured. “You are too young to understand, Cassie. I’m happy that in your time things are different from my old days. The things I heard and saw when I was your age….”
Cassie said nothing, she only watched him. She let herself down on the floor again, sitting and waiting.
“You must understand something, child.” He folded his hands on his lap, playing with his signet ring, his posture returning instinctively to aristocratic composure. “Wars are not fought with ideals alone, they are predominantly fought with fear, with instinct of survival. And with choices made long before one understands their cost.”
His gaze drifted briefly toward the fire.
“I believed I was protecting my family. Actually, I still do.” The admission seemed to surprise even him. “I believed aligning myself with the one that seems to have the most power would ensure the Malfoy name endured, that Draco would inherit safety, influence… A future untouched by chaos, as mine was years ago.”
A bitter breath escaped him.
“And yet…” He continued slowly. “The future you describe exists precisely because that belief failed.”
Silence settled between them, still heavy with what was said.
When Lucius spoke again, the sharp certainty that usually defined him had softened into something dangerously unfamiliar.
“You stand before me, my granddaughter, bearing the name Malfoy… And the blood of Hermione Granger.” His lips twitched faintly. “And the ancestral home of my family itself rejoices at your presence. Recognizes you as its miss as I, myself, am its master.”
He then met her eyes, heart-breaking beautiful.
“Tell me, Cassiopeia… Does my Draco love Miss Granger?”
Cassie hesitated, studying him carefully, as though weighing how much truth he was capable of bearing.
“Yes.” She said at last. “He does.” She drew her knees closer to her chest. “They actually started dating this year. Perhaps it’s why the Time-Turner brought me here, right now.”
Lucius stilled. “In 1995?” He asked quietly, trying to remember if there was any indication in Draco’s letters about some sort of romance happening.
Cassie nodded. “Mum always says it began when Dolores Umbridge came to Hogwarts. She kept targeting her with inspections, detentions, trying to catch her breaking rules. Dad noticed, because he was always watching her.” A small smile appeared on her lips. “He started showing up everywhere, interrupting conversations, dragging her away before she could get into trouble, creating distractions whenever the High Inquisitor got too close. Everyone thought he joined the Inquisitorial Squad because he agreed with Umbridge.” Her silver eyes lifted to his. “But he only did it so Umbridge wouldn’t suspect him while he protected mum. Because he knew he wouldn’t forgive himself if she was ever tortured by that woman.”
Lucius felt something cold settle in his stomach.
“He told us…” Cassie continued softly. “That he’d been in love with her since their first year. Since the day they met on the Hogwarts Express, when mum was walking through the compartments looking for Professor Longbottom’s toad.”
She laughed faintly through the remnants of her tears.
“Mum says she didn’t notice at first, that she thought he was just an insufferable kid. But then she realized he was always there, always stepping between her and trouble. Always pushing her out of danger.”
Her voice softened, turning almost dreamy.
“They stole kisses in the library and talked for hours in the Astronomy Tower and studied together in the Room of Requirement where no one could find them…” Cassie looked back at him. “Dad is hopelessly, ridiculously, in love with her. Like I said, it is kind of disgusting. He is always touching her, always looking at her, always gifting her, always saying how much he loves and adores her.”
The words landed heavier than accusation ever could.
“He still is deeply in love with her… Even after twenty-five years.” She added. “Scorp always says that dad looks at mum like she hung the stars herself.” She shrugged lightly. “The only thing I’ve ever wanted…” Cassie murmured. “…Is for someone to love me the way my father loves my mother.”
They settled in quietness after her words and Lucius did not move, because suddenly he understood.
His son, his heir, the boy he had shaped, guided and protected, had chosen love over blood, devotion over doctrine, and built a future so bright that even their ancestral home rejoiced in it… And that future began now, in this very year.
Lucius lowered his gaze to the fire burning warm at the fireplace, something tight and unfamiliar closing around his chest.
For the first time in many years, Lucius Malfoy realized that the greatest threat to his family’s future had been himself.
“I am sorry, Cassiopeia.” He said at last, his voice low, weighted with something unfamiliar and unpolished. “Truly.”
She studied him for a few long seconds. Then a sad smile curved her lips.
“It’s not me who has to forgive you for your choices, grand-père.” She said softly, fiddling with the hem of her robe. “And I think mum already did that, a long time ago.”
Lucius closed his eyes briefly at that.
“The only thing I want…” She continued. “It is for you to see how bright your future, our future, can be, if you just believe in my father’s love for my mother.”
He exhaled slowly, exhaustion settling into his bones.
“It is difficult, child.” He admitted. “To dismantle convictions one has been born and raised into.” His fingers tightened slightly around the glass on his hand. “My father…” He began, his voice steadier now, but colder. “He was a harsh man, rigid and unyielding... I do not recall him ever embracing me, nor telling me he was proud.”
A faint, humourless smile touched his lips.
“When the Dark Lord rose to power, my father placed our family in his service without hesitation. He spoke of greatness in our blood, of destiny, of birthright. He didn’t even ask me about it. Abraxas Malfoy made me kneel for the dark lord, without asking his only son if I was willing or not.” Lucius looked into the fire. “I was taught that supremacy was not cruelty… It was order. That purity was not prejudice, but preservation. And that I would be tortured into it if I was against it.”
His gaze shifted back to Cassie.
“And now you stand before me, proof that everything I was taught to preserve would have destroyed you.”
Silence lingered.
“I will not pretend this is simple.” He said quietly. “But if my son’s love leads to a future where you exist… Then perhaps the foundation I inherited deserves to fall.”
Cassie’s face lit up with the brightest smile he had ever seen. Unexpectedly, Lucius felt tears pricking at his eyes, forcing him to draw a deeper breath to steady himself.
“I told you I’m your favourite, grand-père!” She exclaimed, springing to her feet and rushing toward him.
Lucius barely had time to react before her arms wrapped around him. For a brief, disorienting moment, he simply froze… Lucius Malfoy, unaccustomed to spontaneous affection, before instinct finally overcame surprise and he returned the embrace.
He held her carefully at first, then tighter, feeling the softness of her curls against his cheek, the faint scent of vanilla and parchment clinging to her hair.
“I think you might just be.” He admitted with a faint smile. “But please… Do not tell Scorpius I said so.”
Cassie laughed, the sound bright and effortless and somehow the Manor itself seemed quieter just so it could listen to it clearer.
After that, they talked for hours.
Time, usually so rigid within that ancient home, slipped unnoticed as Cassie sprawled comfortably across the rug while Lucius remained in his chair, listening, truly listening, in a way he rarely allowed himself to do.
She told him about the time her brother and his best friend, Albus Potter, had stolen Buckbeak from Hagrid’s paddock and flown the hippogriff around the Quidditch pitch before Professor Wood caught them mid-flight.
Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I find myself uncertain which detail is more alarming.” He muttered. “My grandson behaving like a delinquent or a Malfoy willingly associating with a Potter.”
Cassie grinned. “You’ll get used to it.”
He sincerely doubted that.
Yet he found himself asking questions… About Scorpius’s studies, his temperament, his ambitions. About Cassie’s favorite subjects, her friends, the way Hogwarts looked in her time. Each answer painted another fragment of a life he had never imagined wanting so desperately.
The true shock, however, came later.
“My dad’s an Auror.” Cassie said casually, as though discussing the weather. “He works with Uncle Harry, they’re partners in the DMLE.”
Lucius stared at her.
Draco Malfoy, an Auror. Fighting for the very institution Lucius himself had once sought to manipulate.
He said nothing for a long moment. But the final blow came gently, almost like being slapped by a feather.
“Oh… And mum became Minister for Magic.” Cassie added. “She won by a landslide. Everyone says she rebuilt the Ministry.”
Hermione Granger. Minister for Magic.
Lucius leaned back slowly, absorbing the enormity of it.
A Malfoy heir raised beside a Potter. His son defending wizarding law… And Hermione Granger, once dismissed as unworthy by him, leading the entire magical world.
He looked down at Cassie, who was absentmindedly tracing patterns into the carpet, entirely unaware that she had just rewritten everything he believed possible.
Strangely, he did not feel horror… Only pride. And something warmer still, something dangerously close to peace.
“Everyone speaks of your mother as the brightest witch of her age, so I cannot say I am surprised by her future,” Lucius said thoughtfully. “Your father, however, I find far more difficult to comprehend. A Malfoy working. That is… Astonishing.”
“Yes, well, everyone says that.” Cassie replied with a shrug. “But we all know he only joined the DMLE so he could be closer to mum. He can’t stand being more than ten feet away from her, so he decided to get a job just to be two floors apart.”
Lucius huffed softly, amusement flickering across his expression.
“That…” He said. “Sounds far more in line with a Malfoy man’s behaviour. We have never been particularly known for respecting boundaries when it comes to our witches.”
They laughed together and Lucius soon noticed that, as the conversation went on, Cassie had drawn closer to him. She was still lying comfortably on the rug, but now her fingers absently toyed with the hem of his silk robe, as though she needed something of his within reach to steady herself.
“I’m glad I got to meet you like this, Grand-père.” She said. “Sometimes, the way you look at Scorp and me it’s like we’re everything you ever hoped for.” Her voice softened further. “And I get to watch that feeling take shape in you right now. How lucky of me.”
“I promise you, I will fight for your future, my shooting star.” He said, his voice thick with emotion. “Our future.”
“Oh…” Her lower lip trembled as tears gathered in her eyes. “You’ve always called me that.”
“Because you came into my life just like one.” He said softly. “A shooting star that granted me a wish.”
She smiled at him and that smile was his, entirely his.
And that was when he felt it. A new tingle.
But this time, it wasn’t the Manor, it was her.
A soft golden glow began to bloom from her chest and Cassie reached for it, pulling a delicate chain from beneath her shirt. The Time-Turner shimmered between her fingers.
“I think my time is up, Grand-père.” She said quietly, watching the light intensify. “I have to go.”
Lucius rose at once, the movement almost instinctive.
“It’s all right.” He said, more firmly than he felt. “We will see each other again.”
She looked at him, searching. “You promise?”
“I do, my shooting star. I do.”
Cassie rose as well, and they both leaned toward each other at the same time, sealing his promise in a warm, tight embrace.
“I love you, grand-père.”
It was the last thing she said before disappearing in his arms.
Lucius remained there for a moment, still holding her or the space where she had been, before his knees finally gave way and he sank to the floor.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
For the first time in years, Lucius Malfoy allowed himself to break.
That was how Narcissa found him, on the floor, shoulders trembling, undone in a way she had never witnessed before.
“Lucius… What happened?” She asked softly, kneeling beside him and cupping his face with careful hands.
“I’m sorry, Cissa.” He said, his voice raw. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what, my love?”
“For only now learning how to wish upon a star.” He said, the words making little sense even as he spoke them. “But I will make sure it comes true. I have a promise to keep.”
“Darling, what…”
“I will do right by our family.” He interrupted, more firmly now. “For our son. We will end this madness.”
Narcissa studied him for a moment, searching his face, and whatever she found there made her soften.
“Then we will.” She said quietly. “Together.”