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Lucius Malfoy.
An inherently rich bastard who uses rather questionable methods to get what he wants.
A slippery snake of a Slytherin who has mastered the arts of socializing and brown nosing flattery.
… And, not known to anyone but Narcissa and his house elves, an absolute slave to his son’s every desire.
How did this happen?
Well, it was a few months after Narcissa came home with Draco. Lucius still remembers how on that fateful day, he held the tiny bundle of joy in his arms for the first time (unsupervised), trying to feed the little thing. It was then that Draco’s tiny fingers gripped onto his hand and zapped him with a healthy dose of accidental magic that left his right hand numb for days. At that very zap, Lucius realized that this little bugger – the one who smiled up at him, captivating him even after the zap had resulted in him yelling and dropping a bottle of milk that stained the front his favourite Valentino designer robes – was real and living and someone who could do no wrong.
Especially when the little bugger has those beautiful grey eyes! (They look just like his own!)
He has carefully watched Draco grow up since then, documenting every moment of Draco’s life in his My Draco album series, covering nearly an entire wall of his study. Each album is complete with its own written narrative in perfect cursive, penned by a Master Calligrapher, Lucius Malfoy, and his trusty peacock quill.
Draco’s first day of kindergarten, available in My Draco #22.
Draco’s first Quidditch game and consequently his first defeat, My Draco #35.
He could go on, really.
In fact, Lucius still has those robes, preserved, framed, and hanging right by the My Draco albums, as stained as they were on that fateful day he became a disgusting, doting parent.
However, as a ruthless businessman, this is not an attribute Lucius is particularly proud of, or that he would put on his resume, if he ever felt the need to write one instead of spending time swimming in his immense wealth. But it does explain why he is spending a Saturday night sitting in La Petite Sorcière in the middle of wizarding Paris, watching over his son’s 28th first date of the year, wearing robes a size too tight and a blond muzzle of an untamed beard obscuring more than half of his usually handsome face.
Lucius shakes himself out of his reverie, looking up just in time to see the girl slap her left hand onto the table and her right hand fly towards a rather full glass of wine and –
“Oh, they did warn me that you are rather nasty!” the little wench says, sniffling into her little lacy handkerchief. Lucius can barely contain this uncontrollable urge to hex the witch into next year as Draco dabs his face daintily with a stained sleeve of his robe.
“Less nasty than a girl with a serious case of contagious magical genital warts,” Draco says, pulling out a wand and flicking himself with a quick Scourgify.
The whole restaurant screeches to an eerie stop because alas, magical genital warts are not a force to be reckoned with. Likely, his own smirk is a mirror of his son’s at the moment, but Lucius could care less about being caught when he observes with a sense of satisfaction as the girl turns on her heel to leave.
Not that she is able to without tripping on her suddenly too long robes, slamming into a waiter carrying a plate of red hot and spicy dragon steaks that cascades down her ugly fuchsia robes. She is reduced to a crying mess by the time she reaches the door, much to the enjoyment of Lucius as he takes a sip of his 1879 Cabernet Sauvignon, tucking his wand back into the folds of his robes before signalling the waiter for the bill.
The 29th date should go better than this.
***
It doesn’t.
It actually results in Draco coming home late, completely inebriated after three bottles of Dragon’s Blend wine.
Lucius should’ve stopped him after the first bottle, but… well, he really wasn’t supposed to be there. So, that’s why Lucius is currently standing in front of the grand fireplace instead, tapping his foot anxiously while waiting for his son’s return.
“Father!”
Lucius shakes himself out of his daze, arms out to catch Draco as soon as he stumbles out of the fireplace. He gently guides his drunken son to a plush recliner before calling for the house elves.
Lucius pinches at the bridge of his nose, blowing out a sigh.
Sometimes, he wonders if he should’ve listened to Narcissa. She had said that these marriage meetings were archaic and definitely not something Draco would like, but he’d already invested so much time and he really just wants the best for Draco –
“I’m done with these dates, Father,” Draco confesses quietly, arm pressed against his eyes. He sags into the chair, his usual regality seems to be seeping out from his very pores. “I just don’t think this is ever going to work out.” Draco heaves a soft sigh. “I’m so tired of these whiny girls who dress like their great-grandmother’s house elf. There’s nothing interesting about them! All they talk about are the latest robe fashions and beauty spells and how much money they have. And the guys – oh, the guys. They are all brawn for brains. Can’t even hold a decent conversation other than the latest broomstick model and how it correlates with their dick size and how it also means that they’ve got a lot of money. If we’re going to do this, we might as well consult a dating network instead.”
“Draco, I really do not think Plenty of Squids is a good way to meet a partner…” Lucius says before he is interrupted by a sharp crack. He frowns when Tinker putters past him to offer Draco a glass of cool water.
Draco sits up, squinting at Lucius with a frown. “You were there tonight.”
“Wait, how – “
“You saw how it went down. Don’t you dare tell me – thank you, Tinker – that I’m not wasting my time. I’m twenty-three! Don’t you think I can choose my own partner?” Draco takes a sip of water. He lowers his head and rubs the condensation on his glass with his thumbs quietly, simmering with a sort of feeling that Lucius can't quite put a finger on.
However, he hasn’t seen Draco this defeated since his second year at Hogwarts when he had lost to Gryffindor (as previously mentioned in My Draco #35). Lucius fidgets for a moment before he kneels onto the ground beside the chair and rests a hand on Draco’s knee. The thought of Draco being able to make a well-informed decision without him is rather… unnerving, considering the lengths he has gone to provide the best (and only the best) for his child. But if it will make his son happy, then – “Well… perhaps we can reach a compromise?” Lucius tries, his lips twitching into an unsure smile. “Is there someone you have in mind?”
“Anyone?” Draco is looking up at him with a hint of – wait, are those unshed tears?
Lucius shifts, feeling vaguely uncomfortable and a little out of his element because Narcissa is the one who usually deals with teary Draco. “Well, it depends if they are good enough for you or – “
Draco’s bottom lip juts out, a sure sign of waterworks.
Shit, shit. Where’s Narcissa?
“Anyone?”
Just… just say yes for now. He can fix this later. “Yes, Draco.” Lucius nods, patting Draco’s knee.
“Harry Potter.”
What? “Surely there is someone else – “
“Father, you said anyone,” Draco sniffs, lips pursed as if he is holding back his first sob.
He’s fucking insane for saying yes to this. This is not going to work and Draco will be lonely forever and Lucius will never be able to rest easy with Hades in his afterlife.
This is a bad idea.
Lucius swallows before clearing his throat. “I will do my best.”
***
Lucius begins his quest by talking to a witch named Hermione Granger, best friend of Harry Potter and Senior Prosecutor at the established Jared & Jellies Law Firm.
“Miss Granger.”
“Hello, Mr. Malfoy. Please have a seat,” Granger says politely. “Tea?”
“If you will, please.” Lucius is not the least bit surprised when a trolley of tea and biscuits wheels itself into the room. The absence of house elves in this homey law firm was a condition that Jared & Jellies had to agree to in order to poach Granger from the Frick & Frack Law Firm. This is the sort of news that makes the Daily Prophet ever since that crazy Mouldywart fellow failed to overthrow the Ministry of Magic.
Had that Mouldywart fellow come into power – Lucius cannot imagine the terrible things Draco would have had to go through then. If Draco had still been in school, maybe the guy would have asked him to kill Dumbledore or help some fellow evil-doers infiltrate Hogwarts. Even worse, Lucius might’ve been insane enough to sell his own son to that maniac because of some silly blood purity ideal!
As long as Draco is safe, he supposes everything is alright.
“Well, sir. What brings you here?” Granger pushes a cup of piping hot English Breakfast tea towards him and he looks up to see her look at him with more than just a tidbit of concern. He offers a small smile to the young witch.
“I… have come to ask a favour...” He watches as Granger slips on her professional face, tilting her head inquisitively.
“Depending on its nature, sir.” Her guard is on.
Despite the years of high school rivalry and animosity between Houses, Lucius cannot recall anything Draco’s done to mess up the wizarding world. Well, other than that year when Granger was hit with some sort of teeth charm or whatever that Draco had written to him about. Or that time he had made fun of her and he had walked away with a bruised cheek (Draco did sort of deserved that one, Narcissa had said).
But.
“I have a feeling you may find it hard to resist my request, Miss Granger.”
Granger narrows her eyes, leaning forward. “And why is that?”
“A little bird told me you are looking for a certain book that may be in my possession. Perhaps we can… talk about the possibilities of my request.”
Granger’s eyes sparkle with interest. “Go on.”
“I would like you to pressure Mr. Potter to go on a date with Draco.”
“Wait. What?” Granger pulls back, staring at Lucius with disbelief. “I have to sell out my friend for a book?”
“Now, ‘sell out’ is a little bit strong. Draco has everything anyone can offer and more. He’s – “
“Deal.”
Lucius pauses, raising an eyebrow at Granger who shrugs in return. “Harry has been cooped up in the house ever since James embarrassed him in front of his last date. He’s convinced that the whole wizarding world would’ve heard about it by now.”
Lucius furrows his brows. “What about?”
“Something about safety of Harry’s chasit... You know what, Mr. Malfoy?” Granger stands, extending her hand, palm out. “The book, please.”
As Granger walks Lucius towards the fireplace, he feels a sense of gratefulness towards Lockhart for the very first time in his life. He would’ve never guessed that Narcissa’s pristine copy of The Wild Nature of Gilderoy Lockhart: Untamed Beast would come in handy one day.
He straightens his robes before stepping into the fireplace, turning only to see Granger holding a fistful of Floo Powder.
“Well, it was nice doing business with you, Mr. Malfoy. Draco is going to be a lot easier on the eyes than Harry’s last date.”
“Excuse me?”
The last thing he sees before he feels a familiar tug in his abdomen is Granger’s cheeky grin.
***
The Ministry on a good day is filled with people.
The Ministry on a bad day is filled with people. Angry people.
The problem is trying to differentiate which day it is, since everyone who works at the Ministry all seems to have chronic constipation.
Lucius stares at the entrance of the Auror Office, playing with the sleeve of his robes with his trusty cane tucked under his arm while weighing his options. To get to Harry Potter, you must go through his father: James Potter, Head Auror of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Does he love Draco enough to risk upsetting the most talented Auror the Ministry’s ever had?
His presence at the Ministry right now is an answer itself.
It doesn’t matter if today is a good day or a bad day now.
Lucius sighs.
“Oh, look. It’s Malfoy! How’s my cousin’s dick of a husband doing?”
Lucius rolls his eyes so hard he thinks he may have lost them, for a moment, in his skull. “Black.”
Black’s smirk is as disgusting as the sole of his dragonhide boots. It hasn’t changed since he’s seen it the first time Black gummed up Narcissa’s beautiful blonde hair during her ninth birthday. Of course, that smirk was instantly wiped off when Narcissa had burst into tears (she is beautiful when she cries, too) and ran off into hiding for the rest of the party. “What are you doing here, huh? Here to do some dirty slimy shit again?”
“I have no time for your silly antagonistic games, Black.” Lucius pretends to pick lint off his impeccable robes. “Is Potter in today?”
“James? Yeah.” Black narrows his eyes suspiciously. “Why?”
“Oh, nothing.” Lucius turns on his heel, “I will see you at Narcissa’s birthday, then. We’re absolutely thrilled to have you over. Again.” Ever since that gum incident, Black has promised to attend every one of Narcissa’s birthdays (“Until she dies!” were Black’s exact words) to make it up to her. Despite his many shortcomings, Black is a man of his word, a quality that Lucius does admire.
Black snorts, “Git,” as he turns and walks into the Auror Office. Lucius fights another overwhelming urge to roll his eyes before he turns on his heel and follows Black into the office.
***
“Malfoy,” Potter greets, a polite smile perched on his lips as he sets down a heavy-looking black folder labelled ‘Not Pornography’ in Black’s hideous scrawl (something Lucius has learned to recognize after years of assisting the professors at Hogwarts with marking). Lucius closes the door gently behind him before he turns and raises one well-groomed eyebrow at the former Gryffindor.
“Potter,” Lucius says, albeit cautiously despite their rather amicable relationship throughout school. The room is spacious but dark, save for the weird contraption that shines brightly on Potter’s desk.
Potter’s expression remains neutral. “Please, have a seat. Would you like anything to drink? Tea, perhaps?”
“No, it’s fine,” Lucius replies easily, seating himself into the surprisingly uncomfortable chair. And the moment he sits down, he feels himself bound to the chair.
Fuck.
He’s let his guard down.
“That’s good. I was worried I might have to unbind you so you can use the loo later.” Potter stands from his seat, leaning forward to twist the shining light on the desk into Lucius' rather sensitive eyes.
“What the fuck, Potter!”
“What do you want, Malfoy? I’ve heard from Harry that Hermione’s been talking to him about a date with Draco Malfoy,” Potter hisses, glaring from across the table, rather ineffectively, if Lucius may add, considering Lucius must squint to make out the silhouette of Potter Sr. “There’s no way you’d just simply drop by for tea and biscuits… So, that means this meeting is not a mere coincidence. What does your little one want with mine?”
He’s forgotten that it’s public knowledge that James Potter is a fanatic when it comes to Potter Jr. In fact, Potter Sr. may even rival his parental dotary (is there such a word?). “There really are no ulterior motives,” Lucius says, trying the bonds around his limbs. “Draco has just expressed interest in courting your child and I am here to convince you that it will be worthwhile.”
“And what makes you think that Draco Malfoy,” the way Potter says his son’s name makes his brow twitch in irritation, “is better than the other dates Harry has had?”
Lucius breathes through his nostrils noisily, which presumably makes him look rather ridiculous coupled with his squinted eyes. “I’ll have you know, Potter,” he spits out the name with as much contempt as Potter when he said Draco’s name earlier because he is no less of a brat than his son, “that Draco is a kind child, despite all his flaws. He also…”
It takes about fifteen minutes of Draco-talk before Potter stops him with a hand on his shoulder, tears in his eyes. Tears from boredom or from sheer gratefulness that there is a doting parent other than himself? Lucius isn’t sure.
“I understand. But then you must know that I can’t just let him go on a date with a boy he doesn’t know.” Potter sits down, slumping forward in his seat.
“Potter, they attended school together.” Lucius blinks owlishly before tilting his head back to avoid the light.
“Yes, but have they had any interaction outside of classes and the occasional schoolboy teasing?”
“Well…”
“And on top of that, Harry’s virginity is at stake here.”
Ah, is that what Granger was implying before?
Lucius rolls his wrists, licking his slightly chapped lips. How he wishes for that cuppa now. “And what makes you think that Draco is so eager to bone your son?” Potter gasps indignantly. “Also, if they don’t date, how will they ever get to know each other?”
Potter mulls over the question quietly. “Well, we usually start with penpal status. It’s what is recommended in the frequently asked questions brochure from Plenty of Squids.”
“Are you serious, Potter?” Lucius heaves another sigh. “Shall we cut to the chase? I have obtained photographic evidence of you and Black mutually masturbating each other – “
“IT WAS A PHASE!!”
“Is it really? It continued on for a few years after – “
Potter makes a noise that resembles a dying pygmy puff, putting up a hand in defeat. “One date.”
Lucius shrugs. “That is all right with me. However, if Mr. Potter wishes to see Draco again, you will not forbid him, will you?”
“Well, of course.” Potter pouts, resting his chin on the table. “Ugh, you’re a terrible person. How can you be a doting parent and be so rotten at the same time?”
“Maybe I will let you in on the secret if you can get this light off me.”
***
So far, his efforts have been an investment.
If Draco manages a second date, the approval of Potter Jr.’s friends and family will be invaluable to Draco’s success (and therefore his happiness) in getting the girl boy.
Thus to finally secure a date for Draco, Lucius manages to weasel out some information from Ronald Weasley (ha, ha, Lucius worked hard on this one). It may or may not have involved the purchase of a Muggle ice-cream truck (yes, really) that was less expensive than Gilderoy Lockhart’s limited edition dirty book. In fact, the young Weasley’s exact words upon receiving the ice-cream truck were:
“Harry seems a bit lonely recently anyway and Malfoy really isn’t that bad of a git… other than that time he insulted Hermione and got sucker-punched in the face.” Weasley looks up with a shit eating grin. “He deserved it.”
However, the transaction serves as a grim reminder for Lucius (he had higher expectations) that Gryffindor loyalty only seems to apply on a case-by-case instance. Well, pity that from now on Lucius will use this to his advantage.
Jingle.
Lucius sits up at the sound of the jingle, sharp eyes landing on the current subject of his son’s affections.
Harry Potter enjoys spending Tuesday afternoons at the café across from Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes. The café that Lucius is currently staking out for the sake of Draco. He stands up smoothly and wanders up to the young Potter just as the boy is ordering his usual café au lait.
“Mr. Potter, fancy seeing you here. Although I can assure you that this is not a mere coincidence… Shall we… have a chat?”
“Mal... – Mr. Malfoy.” The young Potter almost bites his tongue at the sight of Lucius. Well, Lucius would’ve done the same thing if he had caught himself in a place like this – the café is decorated in light pastels with galloping rainbow ponies dancing across the plains of rolling hills splashed tastelessly on the walls. Feature today? Lemon drop cupcakes.
Needless to say, Lucius sticks out more than a sore thumb in this place.
Without waiting for an answer, Lucius turns back and billows back to his seat tucked far into the back of the café, away from the windows.
The young Potter sits across from him a moment after, coffee in hand and a cupcake in the other. “Does this have anything to do with Malfoy... ” Potter pauses. “The other one.” He pauses again, frowning before trying once more. “With Draco, Mr. Malfoy?”
Lucius winces. Is this boy usually this inarticulate? “As you have hypothesized, I want to talk to you about Draco.” He clears his throat, watching as Potter pours a fair amount of sugar into his coffee. “As you know, Draco does not have many friends – ” Potter choke-snorts at this and Lucius looks up with a hint of surprise, inadvertently stealing a glance of coffee dribbling from Potter's nostril… Gross. Lucius clears his throat again before plowing forward. “Outside of the Slytherin house. I have become slightly concerned, since his friends are all getting married, that he may begin to feel… a little lonely without some companionship.”
“Oh,” Potter replies rather nasally. “So… you are here to convince me to go on a date with him?” The boy blows his nose into his napkin before wiping a few tears from his eyes. “I’m honestly not too opposed to it… But why me?”
Lucius blinks, slightly taken aback that he had not need to use the emotional blackmail that he had prepared for this conversation, which was much easier than he’d thought. Potter also poses a very good question. One that he’s not thought to ask Draco about yet. Is this the boy’s way to throw him off-track and to discourage him? If he does not reply in a way that passes the boy’s judgement, does that mean all that he’s done so far for Draco is moot?
He must’ve looked more than just uncomfortable (which is a little off-putting since Malfoys never lose their composure. His recent dealings with Gryffindors has tested this theory rather thoroughly, though), because Potter smiles and shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter, I guess. He must like me well enough for you to put so much effort into this. I wish my dad had half the mind of yours, Mr. Malfoy.”
Something in his mind tells Lucius that he may be overthinking this (he is, after all, a good thirty or so years older than the boy and supposedly more mature). But he isn’t so turned off by the way Harry Potter enjoys the art of brown nosing flattery and plays dirty.
***
Approval of his friends? Check.
Approval of parental units? Check.
Approval of the person himself? Check.
Lucius adjusts his sunglasses and idly flips the page of the Daily Prophet while pretending to pick his nose and wiping it on his blond beard. Across from him sits an elderly gentleman with unruly black hair and rather thick glasses. For some reason, he feels as if he’s seen this man before…
Past the bushes, right by the window of this dinky restaurant in the middle of wizarding Greece, sits Draco Malfoy and his date, Harry Potter.
“For some odd reason, Hermione and my dad were both rather adamant that I come out to see you today…” Potter rubs the back of his neck with a shrug. “Even your dad went out of his way to come find me.”
“Ah, well.” Draco has the audacity to blush, coughing awkwardly into a fist. “I did send him on a seemingly impossible task.”
The young Potter smiles and looks down to his lap, fidgeting with an edge of the tablecloth in an almost bashful manner. “I just thought I should mention that I don’t kiss on first dates, but I do on second ones.”
“Is… that an invitation then?”
“Take it as you will. I’d rather we aren’t chaperoned next time, though. After all, your dad is right by the bushes with mine.” They both glance over to where Lucius is lounging.
While the elderly gentleman in front of him topples from his seat, staring up at Lucius with wide eyes before scurrying away to the bathroom, Lucius merely raises an eyebrow and leans back in his seat, stroking his fake beard.
With a snort, Draco and the young Potter stand from their seats and weave through the restaurant before disappearing through the fireplace.
Lucius never did ask: why Harry Potter? But it certainly doesn’t matter now, that Potter boy was playing his Draco like a finely tuned violin.
He pours himself a glass of 1879 Cabernet Sauvignon and toasts to particularly no one.
***
When Lucius gets home that night, he sends an owl to erase Draco’s hidden profile from Plenty of Squids before climbing into bed, spooning up to Narcissa.
Oh, Lucius, he thinks as he starts to nod off into an easy sleep, you’ve really outdone yourself this time...
"Lucius?" He stirs slightly at the sound of his name tumbling sleepily from his wife's lovely lips. "Honey, have you seen my book anywhere? You know... that one?"
Lucius nuzzles into Narcissa's shoulder, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist.
Fuck.