Who: Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco What: They had to bring Draco home because he kept trying to hump everything. When: Friday night, 2 September 2001 Where: Malfoy Manor Why: The hospital was going to drug him to decrease his libido, and Lucius is against that. Rating: Not pretty.
Lucius had not wanted to bring Draco home, it was too much work for Narcissa, it was too emotionally difficult, and they just were not set up to take care of him in the same way the hospital was. However, since he had started trying to sexually assault everyone, patients, staff and visitors, there was little choice. They could either let those butchers drug Draco so that he no longer had any sexual drive at all, or they could take him home.
As difficult and far from ideal as it was, the choice seemed obvious to Lucius. They had to bring him home. Draco had responded to so little since being admitted there, if he was feeling something, especially something that was such an intrinsic part of being a Malfoy, the last thing Lucius was willing to do was suffocate it with potions.
The actual act bringing him home had gone fairly smoothly, except for Draco getting sick all over the rug in the entrance hall after apparating in. If Lucius had thought about it, he would have flown them home, that would have been much more comfortable, and something Draco was more accustom to. But he had not thought about it, and the three of them stood there for a long beat, staring down at the mass of sick in multiple shades of brown seeping into the red Persian rug. Then suddenly Draco began to laugh, and after moment his parents joined him. The release and the break in tension were both needed, badly, and after that the remainder of the evening went rather smoothly.
Draco had seemed to recognize his room, and spent the better part of an hour inspecting his things, as if he was making sure they were actually his. Lucius had dinner with them before he had to return to the castle, and though it was far from a tidy experience, Draco managed to mostly feed himself. However, the next day had not passed so smoothly for Narcissa and her son. He was quick, and nothing held his attention for very long, much like he had been as a small child, except that now he could not be reasoned with. But there had not been one instance of the boy making sexual advances on his mother nor any of the house-elves, so at least for that they could be grateful.
By the time Lucius got home on Friday afternoon, Narcissa looked exhausted, though she did not complain, the difficulty in having Draco home was written all over her face. Not to mention the mussed up condition of her always perfectly quaffed hair. "Hullo, darling," Lucius said, upon entering the parlor. She was sitting on the floor, crosslegged, across from their son, making wisps of coloured smoke emerge from the tip of her wand and twirl around Draco's head in unpredictable patterns, much to his delight. First kissing the top of Narcissa's head, then Draco's -who pushed his father away in frustration when the man interfered with the purple spiral that had been circling his head- Lucius dropped down into the claw footed sofa where he could watch them. "How is it going?"