Prologue

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"Father, although I despair of disappointing you, I will not marry that girl."

The young man attempted to remain calm, knowing that excess emotion would not impress his parent.

"Your betrothal was arranged at her birth. When she comes of age, you will marry."

"Father…"

"Did you believe I would permit you to disgrace this family with that Mudblood catamite?"

"He has a name, father."

"He is not worthy of a Malfoy!"

At the stark anger on the usually cold and indifferent face, the young man stilled. He was a powerful wizard in his own right but was not yet a match for his father. Once more, his desires and wishes for his own life were in direct conflict with his duty as a Malfoy.

Seeing no response in defense from his son, the father's face mellowed. "All young men have their period to experiment. You have sown your oats but now must uphold this family's legacy."

The young man was mute.

"Rest, my son. We will speak more on this tomorrow."

The young man nodded respectfully, as was expected of him. "Father." He cleared the room, destined for his own too opulent for comfort bedchamber.

Lord Malfoy turned, watching as the one to whom he owed his loyalty stepped from the shadows of his study.

"Your son is proving to be a disappointment, my pet."

The blond man, who deferred to no one in the outside world, bent his knee for Lord Voldemort.

"My humblest apologies, my Lord. I will rectify this situation."

Cruel fingers tightened in the unrestrained white-blond hair, drawing the kneeling man's eyes to meet his Lord's.

"See that you do. I require a Malfoy at my side, even if you can no longer serve me."

"Yes, my Lord."

The dismissive caress would have been equally appropriate to a lover or a treasured tool. Lord Malfoy had been both in his time. As the Dark Lord Apparated from his home, he knew that he would deliver his son into the same role.

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The banked fire dimly illuminated the bedchamber. Its gloom was properly reflective of the extremely late hour. Outside the windows, draped heavy with silk and brocade, the moon had set and the sun had not yet risen.

The blond man moved closer to his son's bed, no hesitation in his black heart for what he was about to do. The almost adult heavily asleep in the plush four-poster did not snore, it was beneath the dignity of a Malfoy. The crisp sheets shifted across his bare chest as he slept on, unaware of his father's treachery.

The elder Malfoy moved to the very cusp of the bed, pointing his wand at his son. As he spoke, he focused his magic, his will, his lust for power, and his very desire to guide his family's future behind the curse.

"Imperio!"

The figure in the bed never even twitched as his dreams changed, his conscious mind an undefended and mutable thing. The command being imprinted upon his psyche was both simple and insidious.

"You will fulfill my every expectation for my heir."

Even as his conscious mind slept, the command was absorbed. The young man knew his father's plans for his life, including his planned allegiance to the incipient Dark Lord. When he woke, there would no longer be hesitancy as he embraced those plans.

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The Malfoy heir stepped from the Hogwarts Express and surveyed his surroundings with a regal disdain. He was ready to move forward but found his way blocked by a striking Ravenclaw a year younger than himself.

"Malfoy. I made it into Advanced Potions. It would really help if you'd continue to tutor me."

The blond wondered idly if the young man thought he was being subtle. He stepped forward, silently enjoying the slight effect his presence had on the other student.

"Now, Stephen. How could I be of any help when we never once opened a book during our little tête-a-têtes?"

The brunet stepped back, shock on his features. "I thought you wanted to keep this quiet… You said your father…"

Malfoy's face hardened, causing the brunet to step back again as he fell silent. The blond's words were biting sharp.

"My father is not an issue, Stephen." He continued, stalking forward with a sneer. "You were a lovely fuck, but there is one issue on which we must be very clear."

The brunet's face was cold and pale. He was frozen by his emotions as the vicious blond leaned into him.

"You, Mudblood, are beneath me."

Malfoy turned and walked away without another thought for the heart that he'd just crushed beneath his leather boot. Stephen began to shake, watching as his former lover solicitously offered his arm to a third-year Slytherin girl.

The Malfoy heir's voice carried, as he made no effort to moderate his tone or disguise his intentions. "Of course there is nothing with which to concern yourself, Narcissa darling. I was simply clearing the trash from my life."

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