Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
By Silver Sailor Ganymede
He still has nightmares sometimes, though of course he's never going to admit that. No matter how much he pretended at the time that he enjoyed the crimes he committed, that he revelled in them, that he thrived on them, the reality is that the horrors of war are the horrors of war and you suffer just as much from such heinous acts when you are the perpetrator as when you are the victim.
His wife has been trying to get him to see a Mind Healer about these nightmares. He never tells her about them but she knows anyway; she's one of those people that knows everything whether she's supposed to or not. She always has been, and while he admires that in her most of the time he finds it irksome when her concern is aimed at him. He is not worth such concern. His suffering is his own fault.
All his dreams are similar. Not the same, but similar. Just like all the raids they participated in, all the duties they followed in the Dark Lord's name, were never quite the same, but were always oh so similar. Always the rape and murder and torture of mudbloods and muggles, and the delight in such activities. He told himself he was doing it in order to purify the world, but of course there was a part of him that knew that to be a lie.
No, he knows that he only did those things because that was what his father had done. All he ever wanted was to be like his father – to be handsome and powerful and influential like his father. To marry a beautiful pureblood witch like his father had done. To rise to the highest, most powerful positions in the ministry like his father had done. To serve the Dark Lord like his father had done. Had he not wanted to be so very like his father then perhaps his trauma (for he knows that that's what it is, though he refuses to consciously acknowledge the fact) could have been avoided.
He still has nightmares sometimes, but there is one thing that hurts him worse than all the heinous images of his past put together. They say that theirs is a time of peace, but he can tell that war will come – perhaps in one year, perhaps in ten years. Either way it will come eventually, and soon he will be re-enacting everything he sees during the depths of the night when he is forced to face the darkest parts of his own mind.
But even the horrors of his past do not compare to his fears for the future: for Lucius Malfoy's worst nightmare is that his son will turn into him, that Draco too will commit heinous crimes under the Dark Lord, that Draco too will pretend to revel in and thrive on the pain he inflicts on others, and that Draco too will one day be the veteran of a war which he could so easily have avoided had he not wanted so desperately to emulate his father. He vows that he will never let that happen; his own nightmares he can face and bear the guilt for: his son's he cannot.