Bound by Fate

Chapter 9: The Inheritance

The manor was silent as Draco slipped through the dimly lit hallways, his footsteps barely audible against the stone floor. His chest felt tight, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts as he distanced himself from the study. The memory of his father slumped in the chair, lifeless, was burned into his mind, but he pushed it aside, focusing on the task ahead.

No one could know. Not yet. Lucius had to be found naturally, as if his death had been inevitable. It wouldn't be questioned, not with the poison he had used. The signs would point to a sudden heart failure or stroke, and everyone would assume it was a natural death.

Draco's hands shook as he made his way back to his room, his breath shallow. He had done it. He had killed his father. The man who had controlled every aspect of his life, who had hurt Hermione in ways Draco couldn't even think about, was gone.

But the weight of what he had done pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating. It wasn't supposed to feel like this. He had thought there would be relief, a sense of freedom. Instead, all he felt was an overwhelming emptiness.

Draco reached his room and shut the door behind him, leaning against it as he let out a long, shaky breath. He had to stay calm. He had to act normal. Tomorrow, everything would change. He would inherit the Malfoy estate, the title, the responsibility. Everything would fall to him.

But tonight, all he could do was wait.

The next morning, the manor was filled with a quiet tension. Draco knew it was only a matter of time before Lucius's body was discovered, and as he made his way down the grand staircase, his heart raced in his chest.

He didn't have to wait long.

A high-pitched scream echoed through the halls, startling him. It was the house-elf, frantic and wailing, as it ran down the corridor. Narcissa's voice followed, sharper and more controlled, but there was a tightness to it that made Draco's stomach twist.

Draco quickened his pace, heading toward the study where he knew his mother would be. When he reached the doorway, he saw Narcissa standing over Lucius's body, her hand covering her mouth as she stared down at him. The house-elf cowered by the door, shaking, its hands wringing the edge of its ragged tea towel.

Narcissa's expression was one of shock, but not the kind of grief one might expect from a widow. It was more like she was processing what had happened, her eyes cold and distant.

Draco stepped into the room, forcing his face into a mask of surprise. "Mother?"

Narcissa turned to him, her blue eyes filled with something Draco couldn't quite read. For a long moment, they stood in silence, the weight of Lucius's death hanging between them.

"He's gone," Narcissa said softly, her voice betraying little emotion. "I found him like this just now."

Draco nodded, stepping closer to his mother. He glanced at his father's body, slumped in the chair, his face pale and still. It was exactly as Draco had left him, and for a brief second, a wave of nausea hit him.

Narcissa's eyes lingered on Lucius's lifeless form for a moment longer before she let out a slow breath. "It must have been his heart," she said quietly, almost as if she was convincing herself. "He was under so much stress recently... I knew something like this would happen eventually."

Draco nodded again, keeping his voice calm. "It looks like it," he said softly. "There was no sign of struggle."

Narcissa turned away from the body, straightening her posture, her face returning to its usual icy composure. "I'll have the house-elf take care of the arrangements. There's no need to involve anyone else. We can keep this quiet."

Draco swallowed hard, nodding in agreement. It was exactly what he had hoped for—Narcissa's desire to keep things discreet. She had always preferred to handle family matters without outside interference.

"I'll take care of it," Narcissa said, her voice firm now. "But Draco..."

Draco's breath caught in his throat as Narcissa turned to him, her expression unreadable. She stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm. "You understand what this means, don't you?"

He nodded, though the gravity of her words hit him harder than he expected.

"You're the head of the family now," Narcissa continued, her voice steady but with an edge of something darker. "Everything that was your father's—the estate, the businesses, the influence—it's all yours. You'll be responsible for maintaining the Malfoy legacy. For ensuring that we stay in power, no matter what happens next."

Draco's chest tightened. He had known this was coming, but hearing it said so plainly made it real in a way he hadn't been prepared for. His father was dead, and now, the entire weight of the Malfoy name rested on his shoulders.

"Mother," Draco started, but she cut him off.

"I know you didn't have the best relationship with your father," Narcissa said, her voice softening slightly, "and neither did I." She glanced at Lucius's body with a distant, almost indifferent expression. "He wasn't... an easy man to live with. But that doesn't change the fact that the Malfoy name is everything. It's what has kept us alive, kept us powerful. And now, it's your responsibility to uphold it."

Draco stared at her, his heart pounding in his chest. This was it. This was the moment he had known would come, but now that it was here, he wasn't sure if he was ready.

Narcissa's eyes softened slightly, and she stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his cheek. "I believe in you, Draco," she whispered, her voice gentle. "I know you can do this."

Draco swallowed hard, nodding slowly. "I'll do what needs to be done," he said, his voice low but steady.

Narcissa smiled faintly, dropping her hand from his cheek. "Good. That's all I needed to hear."

She turned toward the door, her back straight, her head held high. "I'll see to the arrangements for your father's burial," she said, her voice returning to its usual coolness. "We'll keep it quiet, as it should be."

Draco nodded, watching as she left the room, her footsteps echoing down the hallway. He stood there for a long moment, staring at his father's body, his mind reeling.

He had done it. He had killed Lucius Malfoy. And now, everything his father had built, everything he had controlled, was in Draco's hands.

But the victory felt hollow.

Draco clenched his fists, his heart pounding in his chest. He had made his choice, but the weight of it was crushing him. He had become the head of the Malfoy family, but at what cost? He wasn't free. He wasn't the man he had wanted to be. He was still trapped—trapped in a legacy he had never wanted.

Draco turned away from his father's body, his mind spinning with the enormity of what lay ahead. There was no turning back now. The Malfoy legacy was his.

And so was the burden that came with it.