Chapter Text
They should have known that it was too good to be true.
The end of the War – and the War itself for that matter – had only brought them pain, had only demanded more sacrifices. The father’s very soul was in immediate danger, for he would surely be Kissed even before he even reached the execution chamber. The mother was, relatively speaking, in the best position, though she was at risk of being thrown on the streets, cut off from any and all finances or support. Their son literally had no future left, no matter how it would go. The Malfoy family was on the verge of total destruction.
When the Saviour of the Light, the Slayer of He-who-must-not-be-named, the Vanquisher of the Dark Lord, the Chosen One, the man who killed Voldemort, unexpectedly descended to speak up in their defence, tears might’ve been almost shed. It was a very near thing. Flames of their hopes that had long since died were instantly rekindled, if only as tiny sparks.
No, he wasn’t going to allow the Wizengamot to take them. Yes, they were guilty. Yes, they did not deserve any less. But to utterly ruin a family like that would not set a proper example for the children of their world, who must learn of mercy, not of ruthlessness.
Thus he spoke. And thus mote it be.
All agreed, though not without fight. The family barely thought to listen for the specifics, glad as they were to have been spared. Astounded as they were by the realisation of who had ensured their survival. Once the Saviour had stepped in, not a word had been directed to any of those standing trial. All three could only stare at the back of their defender as he spoke.
Someone suggested the Saviour himself be the supervisor, seeing as he so obviously was an impartial party. The young man himself paused for a few measly seconds before agreeing. He most likely did not expect this outcome, Gryffindor that he is thought Narcissa Malfoy idly.
Only much, much later did she recall that moment and wonder if there wasn’t a hidden smile of satisfaction involved.
They were relocated to an isolated manor, the Slayer’s primary residence from what they understood. Once there, things settled into a routine. All residents had their meals together, but were otherwise free to do as they liked. All three Malfoys were confined to the house and its surrounding land by magical means, but the one they were forced to call Lord was not.
Unexpectedly, things weren’t nearly as bad as they feared. Lord Potter had a very mellow temperament and was never seen without a smile on his lips, no matter how small. His eyes, however, had a hollow sort of darkness to them.
That really should have clued them in.
Within the first month the hidden darkness surfaced. It was a minor thing that triggered it, nothing of importance truly, but without warning Potter snapped and cursed Draco Malfoy to within an inch of his life. It shook his parents badly and rattled the foundations of the unspoken truce between Potter and the Malfoys to pieces.
It is at this point that, in the privacy of his mind, Lucius Malfoy lamented his poor choices of the past and that his entire family would have to pay the price for his mistakes.
With the tentative peace shattered, the balance broken, an all-encompassing tension took its place. Lessons well learnt to survive the Dark Lord were now applied once more. The situation was positively ironic.
Fate was unimaginably cruel. The Hero of the Wizarding World was supposed to be their saviour too.