Lucius hated it here. He missed his life, he missed his wife, he missed his son. Oh, Draco was here, but he was not the Draco he remembered. Where had his adoring little boy gone, the boy who thought his Daddy could do no wrong? Who trusted that Lucius would have all the answers and would always protect him? Lucius could answer that, but he didn't like the answer. He could admit, at least to himself, that he'd let Draco down. Let Narcissa down. Let the Malfoy name down. He would never admit that to anyone else, but in the privacy of is own head there was no hiding from it.
It made him angry, and being angry made him feel not in control. Feeling not in control made him angrier, until it was a never-ending cycle of anger and guilt and hatred. It didn't help that Potter found every opportunity to mock Lucius, and he knew better than to think he'd find a friendly ear in Severus or Regulus. The two of them had turned their backs on the cause, or so he'd come to realize, and were no friend of his. So he isolated himself as much as possible, kept to his rooms when he wasn't on assignment--and wasn't that another indignation. Being sent on assignment as if he answered to anyone here. But he behaved. He towed the lined. He didn't act on instinct to strangle Potter whenever the brat smirked at him.
He didn't know what made him deviate from his routine this morning. Well, that wasn't true. There was a new arrival, and this one was of interest to him personally. His grandson. It soothed something inside him to know that Draco had done his duty, seen that the Malfoy line would continue. However, he had no idea what to expect from his grandson. He doubted Draco had raised him properly, but he held out hope that Narcissa at least would have instilled the right attitude into the boy. He wanted to see for himself, so he'd gone up to breakfast rather than take his meal in his room as had become his habit.
The boy was easy enough to spot when Lucius walked into the Great Hall. The long, silvery blonde hair was distinctive, and Lucius recognized the stubborn set of the boy's chin. Narcissa and Draco had both had that particular look more times than he could count, though neither had ever looked at him with such hesitance. Even now, Draco looked at him more with disgust than anything else.
"You're Scorpius then?" He gave the boy another glance over, taking in the clothes, the makeup--subtle, but still there. He was tall, graceful, but there was something too feminine about the way he held himself. "Come. Sit with me, and tell me all about yourself."