Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter in any way, shape, or form. I read the books, I do not claim to own them.
Thanks to: Rosie, for reading this beforehand. Her story is called "Seeds of Love", a Draco/Harry fanfic.
Lucius Malfoy stood, shaking, in the middle of a miserable stone hall in an even more miserable stone house in the most miserable acre of land you could imagine. A hundred pairs of eyes were focused sharply on him. At least, Lucius thought that those eyes were focused on him. Unfortunately, it was damn near impossible to see behind the hideous white mask that he wore on his attractive, albeit girlish, face.
Seated on a throne at the head of the hall was the Dark One himself, Lord Voldemort. Lucius took the briefest moment to glance at his lord, then flinched. Voldemort was drumming his long, claw-like nails on the arm of the throne, and he wore a look of pure boredom on his face. If he was made to wait too much longer, that look of boredom would quickly turn to murderous rage.
"Would my lord care for a muggle, freshly caught?" asked Lucius cautiously. Voldemort glared at the Malfoy patriarch before staring distantly at a chandelier covered with a thick layer of cobwebs. The chandelier did nothing in the way of light, casting shadows instead of illuminating the dark room. A few spiders crawled madly over each white thread of silk, casting even more shadows. A Death Eater coughed in the background.
"We hate to be kept waiting," came a voice from the back, feminine and drawling. More than likely it was Bellatrix Lestrange, his wife's nut-job cousin newly sprung from Azkaban. If it was her, Lucius wanted nothing more than to choke the life out of the rabid woman and wear her eyes as earrings. That is, if the blond ever decided to get his ears pierced, an unlikely event in itself. He would never stoop low enough to try such a common Muggle practice.
A few Death Eaters murmured in agreement, but softly. No one was truly willing to raise his or her voice for fear of being recognized by a blood-thirsty companion. Only Bella was mad enough, or in love with the Dark Lord enough, to identify herself. Sure enough, the beautifully insane woman ripped off her mask and scowled at Lucius maliciously. "Where is the boy? I refuse to let our lord wait any longer!"
"Patience, you twat. He will be here in a moment . . . I am sure of it." Lucius wished that he could drop his black hood and tug at his sunlight hair, but chose not to. Unlike the Lestrange family, the Malfoys had some common sense. Furious, Bellatrix turned to her lord and waved her arms emphatically to suggest that the man and his son were both idiots. Voldemort sighed as he rose up from his throne. The healed master of evil took several slow steps, gazing proudly upon his 'loyal' followers, until he reached the center of the room. He motioned for Lucius to come forward.
"I am extremely tired of this game, whatever it may be," he began," and I will not be toyed with any longer. Tell me now, Lucius Malfoy, where is your son?"
Lucius flinched as his name was spoken; he now had no hopes of anonymity. He anxiously shifted on his feet as he tried to make an excuse for his truant son. The boy wasn't: dying, married, giving birth, in a coma, on a secret mission, insane, or even asleep! And there was no way in the nine levels of Hell that Lucius would say what his son was really doing.
His mouth opened and closed, like a suffocating fish, as he attempted to lie. It was proving very difficult, with Voldemort staring directly at him, his wand raised. Voldemort's lips moved silently, and Lucius just knew that he would be hexed to Hades and back for his son's vanity.
"My lord, my son is . . . ," Lucius paused, unable to go on. He was going to die!
"Yesssssss?"
"My son is . . . is . . . ," Lucius choked on the words. He thought that Draco's reasons for being late were completely justifiable, but his lord clearly did not, whatever they were. Voldemort looked at Lucius impatiently with his wand pointed directly at the flustered father.
"My son is bleaching his roots!"