Imagine Lucius, Narcissa, and young Draco (around the age of 7) are eating dinner and Lucius gives Narcissa a quick kiss on her lips. Draco then blurts out, “Are you two having sex right now?” Narcissa is stunned and doesn’t know what to say. Lucius is trying hard not to laugh.
Draco was waiting to greet her, awkwardly adjusting the cuffs around his wrists, earning glares from his straight-backed father. Pansy found her eyes wandering down to Draco’s salvatore ferragamo shoes. They were black, shiny and fit to perfection. She wondered if his foot had ever touched the bare ground, almost feeling smug in assuming she had experienced something he never had. Granted, he was man with more freedoms in this word than she would ever have but he was still one of the elite. Pansy assumed his gilded cage was kept just as tightly locked.
Gracing his family with a small smile and slight curtsy, she continued to look at the young man who would become her husband in a matter of days. Once the paperwork was finalized and their families joined in a few meals to better know one another, they would only need to perform the short ceremony to formally tie their hands and lives together.
She wondered what sort of a husband the Malfoy heir would be for her, if he would be the quiet, nervous type of man before her, acting attentively to her needs or if he would lead a secret life of hunts and red-lipped women before coming home to lie stiffly beside her. The strange part to her was that Pansy wasn’t sure which type of man she was hoping he would be. She may be accepting this was her life now but she felt almost no sort of attachment to him or any future possibilities. She felt more passion for doing better than the icy and perfect Lady Malfoy then for the new Manor she would call home or the new husband she would have.
It wouldn’t be long until she was a Lady Malfoy, too and she would be sure to have mischief in her smile.
It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? How sometimes we take ourselves too seriously? Lucius Malfoy takes himself far too seriously. But then, he’d been taught nothing less than exactly that. That someday he would be everything, and with everything came the weight of the world. How could he be expected to bear the brunt of that weight if he were a foolish and haughty schoolboy?
If you asked Lucius to describe the last time he remembered crying, he’d offer a simple answer; I don’t. The truth was that he only remembered crying one time. It was one of his earliest memories, featuring his mother whom he’d tried to edit out of much of his childhood. She’d been gone for so long now, and had left so early that sometimes he thinks she doesn’t deserve a place in his mind or his heart. But that wasn’t entirely true. If it weren’t for Lysandra, the fleeting glimpses of warmth that you see inside of the only Malfoy child wouldn’t exist. If Abraxas had his way, they wouldn’t at all.
The memory itself was clear as crystal- As vivid in his mind as it was the day it had happened.
Abraxas Malfoy had been meeting with a number of his associates, a ritual that wasn’t entirely uncommon inside the walls of Malfoy manor. As such, the populous of children that frequented the yard of said manor had a tendency of fluctuating greatly. Lucius himself was always glad to see the men and their wives arrive weekly, for they’d made a habit of bringing with them company for the young, only child.
The long nights offered prolonged meetings shrouded in darkness- a great cover for the so called soldiers of a looming war. Alas, the young boy had his fun. After all, he was far too young to participate in such meetings.
On this particular night, Lucius would recall the sunlight vacating the sky faster than usual. Dusk settled over them more quickly as the summer months disappeared and as fall approached, a time shift would accompany the new chill in the air. Lysandra called for the kids from the foyer, Lucius obliging to the request right away. He of course was always quick to obey his parents, never wanting to disappoint and always hoping to please.
But the darkening horizon did not bring good fortune down on Lucius. The lack of light had made it hard to see, and in a sudden confusion Lucius had lost his footing, tripping up on the grassy ground at his feet. The boy fell, and the skin on his knees give way with ease. His hands had gone out to brace him for the fall, and so the ground scraped at the tender flesh of his palms as well. It shocked him, and it was painful.
And Lucius cried.
Hot tears streamed down his face, clearly distressed by the sight of the blood. He cried at the sudden pain that seared from his knees and through his legs. Lucius wants nothing less than his mother at his side. Comfort. Someone to tend to his wounds and guarantee that everything would be alright.
Lysandra tried, truly. She rushed to her son, hoping to to console him as she knelt and attempted to pull him into her arms.
“Leave him.” Abraxas would command, “Leave the boy. You coddle him.”
“But Abraxas, he’s hurt.” Lysandra argued, her tone bordering on argumentative, even though she knew better.
“You’re enabling him. Enough.” He warns, tongue as sharp as a double edged blade.
Lucius’ mother argues no more. Instead she would find her feet, making her way inside on the arm that Abraxas had offered. The boy had never felt so alone. Left to deal with his small injury, and his own emotion. Alone to sort out his feelings and move on by himself for the first time at just six years old. But what Lucius had yet to comprehend was just how enlightening this moment would be for him. In years to come he would look back and pinpoint the exact moment that he realized he might never truly be alone again. Not in any bit of his harrowing, or mental anguish that ensued through his childhood. Through his teenage years. His struggle through Hogwarts and even beyond through his journey as a Death Eater.
It was when Rodolphus Lestrange offered a tiny hand and tugged him to his feet.
“Don’t be a baby.” The dark haired boy insisted, a too smart for his own good smirk populating his face- One that a boy so young shouldn’t have known how to use so well. Rabastan rushed by without paying them a lick of attention (and Lucius was too young to know then that things were changing for them, too).
It was the last time he’d shed tears. The stern demeanor of Abraxas had inadvertently put the fear of fragility into the small boy. Crying was weak. Reaction to pain was weak.
Lucius was weak. Lucius is weak.
No one can ever know.
He would, quite literally, rather die. He almost has, and yet he’d never even consider swallowing his pride. Not if it meant Abraxas would find out that he’d shown any semblance of weakness by way of emotion. Lucius can’t go soft. He refuses.
Some days are harder than others.
Lysandra Malfoy died on December 10th, 1967. Lucius was just eight years old. Lysandra Malfoy died, and Lucius didn’t cry.
• saying ‘shut up’ while laughing
• being extremely nice and understanding towards their friends but unapologetically sarcastic towards others
• speaking of sarcasm: they speak it fluently
• ‘I love you but I love myself more’
• going on long hikes by themselves
• they either go to bed early or don’t sleep at all
• they sleep with stuffed animals but deny it
• they never give up
• challenges are a great pastime
• saying ‘Tragic.’ way too often
• not everyone of them likes Snape
• 'No I am NOT good at potions and you can NOT copy my homework’
• falling asleep to rain
• nearly everyone of them has referred to Draco as a 'wimp’ or 'sissy’
• they will kill you if you insult their pet
• being proud of their background no matter who they are
• yes, there are muggleborn Slytherin’s
• they inniciate snowball fights
• complaining about small things
• 'I AM NOT YELL…I am not yelling.’
James Potter: Very… very eager, but trying really… really hard to restrain himself. Knows how to do fun things with his tongue… has had a lot of practice. All in all… he’s what people like to describe as “fun”… 8/10
Sirius Black: Knows how to adapt. Can pretty much match anyone’s kissing style, but likes deep, intense kissing the most… Also likes biting and hickeys. As talented as he is pretty. Down for basically anything… An enjoyable experience all the way around. 11/10
Remus Lupin: Nervous. Starts off slow… then kisses like it’s the last time he’ll ever kiss someone because he always feels like it’s the last time anyone will ever want to kiss him… 6/10 when he’s nervous… 9/10 when he relaxes and let’s go.
Peter Pettigrew: Sweats a lot… too much tongue… 4/10
Lily Evans: Expert kisser, knows her shit… at least as far as technicalities go… but lacks spontaneity. Get’s flustered when she doesn’t see something coming like James’ tongue tricks… also gets distracted easily (”SHIT! That’s due tomorrow!”)… Overall, needs some work. 6.5/10
Frank Longbottom: Handles you like you’re made of glass… very gentle… very sweet… enjoys kissing the spot just beneath your ear. Hates biting because he’s worried he’ll hurt you. Often stops to stare or chat. Worships the ground you walk on… 8/10 for kissing… 20/10 for making you feel like a goddess.
Alice Longbottom: Kinky as fuck. 9/10
Dorcas Meadowes: Kinkier than fuck. Kisses like she owns your ass. Also hella gay. 10/10
Marlene McKinnon: Also also hella gay… less kinky. Uses a lot of tongue… but does it right. 9/10
Mary Macdonald: Mary sue to the max… every kiss is like a reenactment of “The Notebook”. Disney-esque. 7/10
Regulus Black: Untrusting. Tends to panic if things go too quick… or too slow… or not exactly how he planned it. Perfectionist… and a bit of a control freak… doesn’t really know how to adapt to other kissing styles. 4.5/10
Narcissa Malfoy: Reserved… until between the sheets, then she will eat you alive. Mother fucking queen. Savage. Always tops. 10/10
Lucius Malfoy: Fun to look at… Terrible kisser. -5 stars. Two thumbs way down… would not recommend…. 0/10……………. alright… 2/10 for being pretty… Also… submissive af.
Bellatrix Lestrange: Will rip your goddam lip off. 0/10…. unless you’re into that.
Fenrir Greyback: Will rip your goddam head off. -54/10
Imagine how tired Lucius Malfoy gets when, every day, an owl arrives with another letter from Draco. Every letter includes who upset him that day, because Draco always follows through with “his father hearing about this.” And Lucius is just. Tired.
so teenage malfoy looks exactly like i was expecting
[Image: A drunk looking Slughorn holding a glass, sitting next to teenage Lucius Malfoy. He is wearing Slytherin robes, has long blonde hair, and a mildly irritated expression. Three other teenagers smile at the camera behind them.]