Draco raised an eyebrow, smiling. It seemed that his father had a lot more hang-ups that Draco had thought possible. A murderer with privacy issues, talk about ironic. He had always assumed that killing people was a bit worse than sex, but obviously not everyone agreed with him.
He took the potion from his father. He smelt it, trying to figure out what was in there. Not an easy task, but anything information would be better than nothing. He poured a few drops on his thumb rubbing it with his index finger to determine the thickness. "This goes against everything I believe in. There is only one person who can make potions as good as me, and I know he didn't make this. If anything happens, I will haunt down who made this and pour a few potions of mine down his throat." In fact, he would do the same to his aunt and uncle. Those two needed to die sooner rather than later.
"Bring Violet here," he told the house elf, before drinking the potion, keeping the vial between his fingers. When he was done, when the house elf reappeared with Violet, who ran to the couch and sat on his lap, watching Lucius. "This is my father, Violet."
Violet got down again, and went to the chair. "You have prettier hair than granny Cissa," she said, running her fingers in his hair. "As pretty as Draco's"