This is the first portion of a Harry Potter fic I've been toying with for quite some time. I'd greatly welcome input, but please, no deliberate cruelty. My ego is brittle.
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He’s dead, my Lord. Narcissa said just that, spitting the words out with vehemence as though she were exceedingly grateful of the fact. There once was a time when Lucius would have said that Harry Potter’s death would be cause for celebration, but now that the moment had come, his actual feelings were very different. Part of it was no doubt due to the fact that concern for his son’s wellbeing had replaced his former loyalty to the Dark Lord, but there was something else going on in that dark cold place he called his heart as well. Lying there like a child’s abandoned rag doll, Harry Potter looked very small, and very young. Seeing him like that increased his anxieties about Draco, but also…

…he pitied the poor boy. The realization hammer-smacked him in the face, and he wondered for the first time if he had ever been cut out to be part of the Dark Lord’s inner circle. Although he once had a taste for inflicting pain, he’d never killed anyone - not even a Muggle. He couldn’t speak for the other Death Eaters who had followed him into the Department of Mysteries on that fateful night when he faced off against this boy and his friends, but he had never thought of aiming a killing curse, or even an especially painful one. The Dark Lord wanted Potter dead, and initially he didn’t care who did it, but that was one honor Lucius never even considered attaining. He had never thought to ask himself why not.

Lost in his own turbulent musings, Lucius did not at first notice that the others were moving out. The Dark Lord had forced that great oaf, Hagrid, to carry Potter’s lifeless corpse, and by the time Lucius realized what was happening, he was being left behind in the Forbidden Forest. Even Narcissa, never as zealously loyal as her sister, or even as ambitious as her husband, was hurrying away towards the castle, no doubt intent upon finding her son.

He knew he should follow; he no longer had any interest in the Dark Lord’s victories, but Draco was at that school somewhere, possibly hurt, possibly dead, and he knew he needed to find him. Still, it took him several moments to make his feet move in that direction, and even when he did, they dragged. He knew why. Though he wanted very much to find his son, he did not want to enter that school as part of Lord Voldemort’s entourage. Never in his wildest imaginings had he supposed that Voldemort would attack Hogwarts, and deep down inside, beneath his fears, he was outraged. Lucius’ sense of fair play was poorly developed, but this brutal battle - against teachers, and children - put dents in his tarnished honor.

Though she was now far ahead, Lucius could still see the sweeping skirts of Narcissa’s robes. There, he told himself. If you must follow something, follow that. That’s where your loyalties truly lie. If you can salvage anything of your life, let it be your family. His feet moved a little faster.

He hadn’t gone far before his left foot kicked something that flew a little ahead and bounced, glittering in the dim and distant lights. Without thinking or breaking stride, Lucius bent and scooped it up. It was a ring, with a fairly large cabochon that was cracked right through the middle. He felt his heart lurch in his chest - he didn’t know how it had been broken, but he knew that ring even though he hadn’t seen it in almost two decades. The Dark Lord used to wear it. Lucius also knew the power it possessed, for he had witnessed Lord Voldemort creating inferi on one memorable occasion during his original reign of terror.

When you get near the lake, toss it in, he told himself. Even if it‘s been broken it might still work, and such a thing should never have been created.

A thought, no more than a child’s playful giggle, skipped along the fringes of his mind, but he pushed it away resolutely. The creation of inferi was not a pleasant sight, and the inferi themselves were not pleasant creatures, no matter who they had been in life. They were justly upset at being pulled away from…from whatever was on the other side of the portal of death. The ring was a terrible tool, and he would see it was never used again.

Again distracted, Lucius did not know that Narcissa had stopped walking until she grasped his arm. Unthinking, he slipped the ring into a pocket of his robes.

“Lucius,” Narcissa hissed, “he’s alive.”

He stopped dead. “Who is?”

“Draco. Potter saw him at the school.”

“Potter saw - how do you know what Potter saw?”

“He’s alive.”

“What?” he asked, confused.

“Potter is still alive. I lied to the Dark Lord.”

Taken aback, Lucius held her at arm’s length and looked at her, somewhat agape, for a long moment. Defensively, she said, “Surely you can’t blame me? Surely our son’s life is more important than His Royal Noseless-ness and his bloody campaign against the entire bloody world? Are you still fool enough that you want him to succeed?”

Lucius’ lips twitched a little, involuntarily. “Are you laughing at me?” Narcissa demanded.

“His Royal Noseless-ness?” Lucius repeated.

Narcissa smiled a little, too, but her tone was strict. “Lucius, this is no time for levity. Now, I need to know - you still have the Dark Mark on your arm, but are you still a Death Eater? Because if you are, then I and my son will have nothing further to do with you. I’ve had more than enough of this.”

Lucius shook his head. “I’m not certain I ever really was a Death Eater, dearest. I don’t seem to have been cut out for the job. In any event, I’ve had more than enough of this, too. I…I think now that I’ve been wrong…about a lot of things. All my life.”

Narcissa visibly relaxed. “Good. Now then, let’s go find our son.”

Lucius took her arm and together they walked out of the Forbidden Forest and onto the grounds of Hogwarts castle. The Death Eaters were gathered in a rough semicircle around the still limp form of the supposedly dead Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort who, with the snake Nagini coiled around his shoulders, stood gloating over the body. There was a great crowd of students, teachers, and Order members - all the survivors who were still fit to fight, apparently - and they all looked either shocked and a bit sickened or fiercely determined. Lucius and Narcissa stepped unobtrusively into the semicircle. Lucius knew that, for the moment at least, he would have to keep playing the part of loyal Death Eater. Narcissa seemed to understand, for without hesitation she slipped back into her own role of being strictly ornamental - since she was not bloodthirsty like her sister, the Dark Lord had never looked upon her as anything more than a marginally useful appendage of her husband - which fact she had quietly exploited during the months they were mere prisoners in their own home. It gave her a freedom of movement that Lucius and Draco had lacked.

Lucius neither knew nor cared what it meant that Potter was still alive. His only thoughts now were for his son, and his eyes nervously scanned the sea of faces between the Death Eaters and the castle. He didn’t really expect to see Draco, but he wasn’t going to discount the possibility. There were more than a few blond heads there, but not his son’s.

Lord Voldemort kept expostulating to the crowd, and though he wasn’t really listening, Lucius felt his teeth grinding despite himself. He was anxious to be off - find his son, and get the hell out of the area as fast as possible. He didn’t know where to go, but he knew he had to get his family away. If by some miracle Potter managed to pull a fast one and defeat the Dark Lord, Lucius knew he would have to spend the rest of his life in Azkaban. Draco, too, most likely. He couldn’t let that happen. And if the Dark Lord was, in the end, victorious? Well, in that case his entire family would be dead by sunrise for this latest and greatest betrayal.

It reads pretty well on first look through. good luck on it. hope you finish it.