#meraclus

“You can’t ground me.” The words are all but spat forth, tendrils of white hair leaving their perfectly combed over position in bouts of frustration. His mother has been irritating as of late, annoying in her candor .. so Draco rips up his sleeve, both to remind her (and himself) of why she can’t be the one giving orders anymore.

                            “Narcissa, my DARLING, I am working.”

He’s not using his wand. In fact, the idea of using his wand for something that is so satisfying to perform by hand is not only unpleasant but deeply irritating to him, and so of course he  moves with his hands, removing the singing flowers from their pots and setting them neatly in beds.

He is kneeling to do so, hair tied back to keep it from the soil, and his shirt is nowhere to be seen - when Draco is at school, after all, it’s no worry for Lucius to be somewhat less clothed than is usual for him. The burn on his shoulder is shiny and plain, and his Dark Mark is a faded image on his arm, but  Lucius pays neither any heed.

He does look GOOD, though. He knows that.

lucius: *is cooking in the kitchen*

narcissa: *enters*

lucius: *is in the process of skinning a rabbit*

narcissa: *screaming*

narcissa: wHAT IS T H A T

lucius: dinner?

narcissa: BUT WHAT IS IT???

lucius: *perplexed* it's a rabbit

narcissa: WHY IS IT ALL PINK AND LUMPY

lucius: because i removed its fur and skin

narcissa: why??????

lucius: ... so we can eat it

He’s just an INFANT, and he is so terribly small in Narcissa’s arms; Lucius hesitates, regarding the child with icy eyes that are nonetheless warm despite their hue. He is PRECIOUS, Draco is, a dragon born of a golden serpentess and a white bird, and that is the reason for Lucius’ pause in the doorway.

“Hold him, Lucius,” Narcissa tells him softly, expression as tender as it is meeting Lucius’ eyes as it is looking at their own son. 

“Narcissa, truly-”

“Hold him.” Narcissa tells him, her voice becoming edged with commanding steel: she knows better than most why he’s reluctant, but Lucius does step forwards, offering his arms and holding Draco with care and perfect poise (what Narcissa does not know is that he has studied for MONTHS on every aspect of infant care, just to ensure he doesn’t hurt their child).

He’s so LIGHT, and yet so much heavier than Lucius had expected, so much heavier than his tiny body implies; Lucius smiles down as Draco looks up at him, his bright blue eyes wide as he looks up at his father. The crop of blond hair is tremendously SOFT, when Lucius pulls back the warm blanket the child is swaddled in to glimse the top of his tiny head. 

“He’s beautiful,” Lucius murmurs, awestruck. Narcissa smiles at him, and she looks ever so tired, so he returns it. Lucius slowly settles in the chair beside her bed, and he coos quietly, murmuring soft nothings and promises he is certain to keep.

When he looks back to Narcissa, she is laid on her side, asleep, and he almost chuckles to himself as he watches her, gently - ever so gently - stroking over Draco’s right cheek with his thumb. “Your mother,” he admits quietly, “has terrible sleeping habits. This will likely be conducive to caring to you in the night, hmm? I should think so, anyway.” He leans back in his seat, and he continues holding the boy, expression soft as he looks down at him, even as the child’s eyes drop closed and his open mouth closes in sleep. 

meraclus

                        “Narcissa?”

Lucius speaks very quietly as he approaches the youngest (and by far the most beautiful) Black sister, tone sweet and expression, as it ALWAYS is, relatively arrogant.

He has an especially IMPORTANT idea in mind, after all, and so when he slides gracefully into one seat to regard her with his ice-coloured eyes, he does his best not to make his presence overpowering. He doesn’t want to be as  unpleasant or as provocative as he is with dear Bella when he sees her out of school these days.

Narcissa is in the year below him, dainty and sweet and, for Lucius’ purposes, utterly perfect. And he will be perfect for HER as well.