They had been organizing these play dates for quite a few years now, at first inviting as many potential (and appropriate) friends their manor could host in a single day, but as their son got older and started having his own ideas about who he should associate with they allowed him to choose who to have over. To Lucius’ consternation Draco’s favourite playmates turned out to be Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. There was nothing really objectionable about the boys, but Lucius had hoped his son would make at least one friend with more on their mind than… Well, with more on their mind. Perhaps he’d have to cut the fun short and start making the list of guests himself.

As luck would have it, the very Saturday he had hoped to spend taking a look at some of his old Dark Arts artefacts (and thinking about what he’d to with one in particular) was also the Saturday Draco decided he wanted to invite a large party to visit the manor – he’d just learned a new manoeuvrer on his broom and couldn’t wait to have a bigger audience to show it to. Lucius thought about leaving his project for another day, but decided that his son probably wouldn’t neglect all the other children in favour of his usual companions, and proceeded on his business unperturbed.

A few hours into the task he’d managed to compile a considerable list of objects he no longer had any use for, and among them was an ordinary looking, mostly blank, diary – the only one of the items he didn’t dare selling. Lucius still very much wanted to get rid of it, however; it was surrounded by powerful dark magic (of the kind he really didn’t want near his son) and damning evidence against him to boot, but he couldn’t simply pawn it off. He was mulling over what end he should give the book when the library door was opened. He had expected his wife would be the one to walk into the room, but when he noticed that the frame in the passageway belonged to a child he hastily shoved the diary into one of his pockets.

“Miss Nott.” He greeted as though he hadn’t just attempted to hide something right in front of her “Are you lost? Or perhaps just tired of broom tricks?” That tactic would never work on Draco, who’d immediately demand to know what he was hiding in his vests, but he doubted Theodora could be as ill-mannered as his son.

“Precisely” Lucius confirmed, pleased to have found an attentive listener in Theodora. Draco didn’t care much for text composition “It’s a useful tool to highlight words when you don’t want them to stand out immediately, but when used to often it becomes a crutch.”

There was no point in telling the girl he italicized words a little too much.

It stood to reason, then, that on some of the days Narcissa took Draco out on a stroll, or a shopping trip, or visiting someone, he would stay home and use the opportunity to get as much work done as possible.

Luckily, just as his pile of papers (a gift from a friend in the Wizengamot that he wasn’t supposed to have) in his desk was starting look dangerously similar to a small mountain his wife decided it was a nice day out and whisked their son away to Diagon Alley.

Lucius had made it clear to the staff of house-elves that he wasn’t to be disturbed unless in case of an emergency. If he remembered correctly, he’d said something along the lines of “someone had better be dying, or someone will die.”, so he was very curious when the door to his office was opened and a patter of little feet came in his direction.

“What?” He asked without turning from the papers, voice calm in spite of himself.

“A man is asking to see mistress – but Dobby told him she’s not home.” the elf spoke “He’s asking to see master then, and Dobby said master is not having visitors, but he is saying he is Regulus Black, sir, and that master would want to talk to him.”

That made Lucius turn and glare at the small creature who wrung his pillowcase, staring at the ground.

“Regulus Black is dead.” He replied, certain of what he was saying even though no body had been found. Regulus had been gone for three years; he either was dead or didn’t want to be found, and so the chances of him calling on the Malfoys were nil.

“Dobby said so, sir!” The elf protested “Dobby said so, but he won’t leave!”

“And I suppose you couldn’t make him leave?” He sneered, standing from his seat.

Dobby made a small noise and hid his face in his cloth, no doubt waiting for punishment. No, Lucius wasn’t going to do anything right now. That would be too easy, and Dobby didn’t deserve to have anything that was easy.

“He seemed so kind, sir.”

“And do I not seem kind, Dobby?” He whispered, leaning over the shorter being. He was perfectly aware that the word kind could describe nothing about him, appearance or otherwise, but a good house-elf would never dispute his master.

Dobby was not a good house-elf.

There was only a small shake of his head, barely perceptible, but it was enough for Lucius.

“I am so disappointed, Dobby.”

He exited the room to the symphony of an elf smashing his head against a bookcase.

Lucius made it to the entrance in record time and opened the door with his wand in hand. It was a good thing he held it with a firm grip, for otherwise he might’ve dropped it after seeing the intruder.

There in his doorstep stood none other than Regulus Black.

It looked like he wasn’t going to get any work done that day.

Like this post if you want me to write a personalized starter for you with Lucius from after the ending of the first war to the events in Goblet of Fire.