Hermione: Repeat after me "I don't like the Malfoy's, it's just a phase".
Harry: ...
Hermione: Come on Harry, you asked me to do this!
Harry: Ok, ok, just... *inhales* I-I don't like-
Draco: *Tap shoulder* Hey, Potter, my mother send you a box of that chocolate we have in our vacations in Greece, a tailored dress robe for our date tomorrow and the latest book of that series you are obsessed with. By the way, Father put a greenhouse near your art room, so we can spend time planting all those flowers you love so much *kiss* I'll see you in Slytherin common room after class *leaves*
A lot of people say that Draco's Boggart in 3rd year would be lucius. I personally think that small Draco's (1st to 5th-6th year) would be disappointing his family, especially Lucius. These people loved Draco, sure, but they also put a lot of pressure on him as he was a Malfoy. So, I believe his boggart would be disappointing his family, especially Lucius.
After the war, his fear most probably would be Voldemort returning. Or, his family dying.(pheraps a mixture of both? Voldemort returning and killing his family what do you guys think?)
A little ficlet of Lucius cuddling and loving his little baby Draco with a small sidedish of angsty forshadowing!
I’ve had this image in my head forever and decided to write it out. I can’t really decide if I like the flow of it but aaanywaay.. I needed some warm cuddly family time.
Narcissa entered the room in which she had last seen her husband. Lucius head snapped up and a heated glare was directed over his shoulder towards the steps entering the room. The heat faded from his eyes the second he saw her, but the sharp snap of his head had been sign enough to tell her to slow her steps and move forwards quietly. It had been a clear warning of: do not disturb. Lucius was sitting on the sofa facing the big window in little library right next to Draco’s nursery. As she rounded the back-rest she saw a little bundle of soft clothes and hair so fair it seemed white in her husband’s arms. She placed her hand on her husband’s shoulder, but he wasn’t looking at her. He had returned his gaze to the small sleeping baby in his embrace. A warm and gentle smile played on his lips; one he had only ever directed towards her before. A smile so small she doubted he knew he was doing it. His eyes were ever softer than his smile could ever be as they took in the sight of his sleeping son in his arms. Narcissa saw how Draco’s little cheek pouted out as it lay resting on his father’s chest, how his small hand gripped at Lucius shirt the best his small fingers could hold. She wanted the moment to last forever, just the three of them in the soft afternoon light, warm and adoring. She knew this little bundle wouldn’t stay so little forever but she could wish.
She glanced to her husband’s face. He still hadn’t taken his eyes off Draco. His thumb going ever so slowly back and forth in soft pats where he could reach as he held his son in his arms. Her smile grew wider as she stared at the two. Incredibly happy that after so many struggles they too could have such a moment. They could be a family. Her gaze soon retreated to her lovely boy. His soft cheeks, hair softer than any material, and so small.
She watched as his small chest moved as he slept, safe and secure in his father’s arms. Draco usually falls asleep like that. She doesn’t know if it’s because Lucius can’t help but pick him up the second he gets home from his duties at the ministry, or if Draco just calms by and feels safe in his father’s arms. It wasn’t the first time she had found them like this. It also wasn’t the first time Lucius had directed the harsh and poisonous look her way by accident. Lucius was as fiercely protective of Draco as he was loving. The look Lucius got in his eyes when anyone ever came near to hurt a hair on their son’s head told her that he’d tear men to shreds with his bare hands; he’d kill anyone who’d hurt his child. Draco were to be protected, from everything, always, at all costs. A feeling she shared.
As Draco grew this sentiment, the care, and the piercing focus on anyone nearing his child never faded from Lucius eyes, but the way of expressing them changed. They turned into discipline exercises and critique. They turned into etiquette lessons and stern looks. She didn’t particularly agree with all her husband’s stern words, but she always understood what he was doing. He would do everything in his power to make sure Draco would be safe even when they weren’t around. He would teach Draco how to protect himself. He would try to protect Draco from the world, and the people in it, the best he could by teaching him how to handle the world and what to expect from it. It would often make Lucius seem harsher than he is as other’s only hear the words. They never understand that his scolding’s are never cruel, never ill intended, but no one has seen him as she has; hasn’t seen him with his warm adoring eyes staring at the soft bundle held close and safe in his arms; hasn’t see how he looks at his son with the same warm gaze, adoration shining when Draco succeeds, when he’s sad, when he’s not doing anything in particular. Narcissa do and she knows. She knows that no matter how old Draco grows, when he comes to his father in the privacy of their own home or with hurt or sadness on his features, his father will melt all the same. He’ll hold his precious baby in his arms and promise to make the hurt go away; promise to make sure it’ll never happen again. Lucius can’t help it. He’ll burn down worlds to keep Draco safe; he can’t help the words of promise from leaving his lips in whispers of comfort. Promising him the perfect world he feels his son deserves, where no one can hurt him. Promising it will get better. Dad will make it better. - The same promises he’s told ever since he held that small bundle in his arms for the very first time.
The torment on Lucius’ face they day he can’t help; when his son is hurting but he can’t reach him to comfort him, will break Narcissa’s heart. It will be subtle, just like it has always been, but it will there. A raging, furious fire blazing beneath the cool surface, ready to explode. Lucius loves his son beyond anything he’s ever loved, loves him more than life itself. It hurts him worse than any physical pain ever could to not be able to reach him. No one outside their family will see it, but Narcissa will know. She’ll see it. She’ll sees it as clearly then as now when Lucius is making sure his son sleeps undisturbed in his arms, holding him gently and just watches him. A small smile firm on his lips, silently promising to protect him for the world – even though it’s a promise he won’t be able to keep. The way Lucius holds his son and looks down at him tells her all she needs to know to see it all those other times no one else does.
And Draco loves his father just as much. She sees it in the small hand clutching his father’s shirt; in how he’ll bolt towards the door on wobbly legs with feet that has barely learnt to walk. How he’ll reach his arms up to be lifted at the sight of his father. How he’ll turn to his father in frustration, in pride, in hurt and find shelter in his arms. She’ll see it in how his eyes will slowly slide towards them, seeking their comfort in a situation where they can’t do anything else than merely look at each other. She’ll see it in the way he takes the stupid mark to keep them safe. Lucius will be furious and hopeless knowing he can’t help his son, can’t keep him safe, can’t protect him from the hurt they’re enduring. Her husband’s pain of broken promises will hurt almost as much as the look on Draco face; that he knows not even his father can protect him from this, that it’s his time to keep them safe.
Narcissa doesn’t know this will come as she stares at them, eyes bright and smile gentle, but she tucks away this piece of serenity and the image of love in her heart to keep forever all the same.
OK Malfoy’s. …
Narissca’s is draco dead. She went into battle where both sides hated her without a wand and lied to voldemort all to save her son.
Draco’s is hermionie being tortured in Malfoy Manor . It’s not lucius please guys… he lived in he same house as voldemort… he shared a house with him.. do you honestly think he would still be scared of his own father?
Lucius’s is idk… being bald?
