Who: Lucius Malfoy and Draco Malfoy When: Monday afternoon Where: The Library What: A meeting long overdue Rating: PG
He had read the same paragraph three times now, and it still wasn't going in. Perhaps Advanced Numerology wasn't the greatest book choice for the day you meet your adult son for the first time. Although, of course, what was? There was nothing that could prepare one for such a thing, particularly if you were like Lucius. He hated forced sentimentality and affection, almost as much as he hated surprises and this happy little occasion reeked of each. How was he supposed to react? Was Draco expecting wide smiles, platitudes of pride, a warm embrace? Surely not?
Lucius reached for his tea cup, taking a slow sip, allowing the warmth to soothe his anxieties for a moment. His thoughts began to drift from the selfish; how was Draco going to react? From what Narcissa had told him, Lucius had hardly been a figure of patriarchal compassion. He couldn't imagine what led him down such a path, it was one thing to miss out on bedtime stories, on junior Quidditch games, the occasional birthday party...but to force Draco to take the Mark? Despite the tea, the thought left him cold. True, Draco wasn't a child any more, he could make his own choices. He wasn't that silly little thing that would snuggle up to Narcissa demanding stories, the nuisance who enjoyed chasing the peacocks around the garden (at least Lucius presumed it was Draco, someone was getting them riled up), the boy who would imitate his father's walk and strut about the manor. A faint smile flickered for a second at the memory. Although a few days ago, it was more than a memory. It was a reality. It was happening. The last time Lucius saw his son, he was being tucked into bed by his mother. Now, suddenly, he was a young man. A young man who undoubtedly resented his father, albeit for good reason. Though, Lucius was being resented for something he hadn't even done yet, and not just by Draco. His wife's eyes seemed to betray the same feeling.
Lucius idly threw the book back on his desk, the force of which blew several sheets of parchment to the floor. He shook his head, and as he knelt down to pick them up, he managed to knock his tea over as well. It was rare for anxiety to get the better of him. Lucius put a hand to his face, allowing his full weight to rest on the floor. He needed a cigarette. A drink. Anything. Anything that was away from this place. Home. He glanced at the clock through his fingers and quickly pushed himself to his feet.