Lucius was older, but only just.
The world had been his playground from the moment he was born, and that didn’t change once he’d stepped aboard the Hogwarts Express for the first time. He was polished and poised and just a little bit pernicious to those who he deemed beneath his notice, so long as the professors weren’t looking. But he was also just a boy—a boy who carried his broom over his shoulder just because he could on the weekends, because it was the fastest and best Cleansweep at the time and no one else had ever held one. (In fact, Lucius Malfoy is unofficially the reason why first years are no longer allowed their own brooms, but that’s another story for another time.)
There were never rumours so much as whispers that the other students feared him; They had. And Lucius, well, he had feared nothing at all.
She had changed that.