Lucius glanced at himself in the mirror and sighed again.
"Are you sure this is the best option?" he asked. "Not to be overly dramatic, but this is the most incredibly humiliating thing that's ever happened to me, and I'd rather prefer if I could in any way avoid the experience."
Lyra smirked at him. "Unfortunately, brother dear, this appears to be the only way to repair the damage which, as I recall, you yourself did upon our family name. If there were a better way, I would of course hasten to tell you, but alas."
"You, sister, are a wench," Lucius told her, but, far from achieving the desired effect, this served only to widen her grin.
Lyra got up from her armchair and stretched. "Well, time is, as they say, a-wasting. But, Lucius," she said, her expression turning serious, "are you sure you remember exactly what needs to be done? No distractions must be allowed if we are to rescue our poor Rigel."
Lucius nodded impatiently. He knew all this; had memorized the plan by rote hours prior, and was sure that it would go without a hitch.
Really, how hard could it be to seduce a muggle, even if said muggle was a monarch? It would have been made easier if he could have simply used a love potion, but that was made an impossibility by the queen's wizarding guard. Nevertheless, Lucius was a Malfoy, and Malfoys did not fail.
"I will not fail," he said, and was pleased to find Lyra's concerned expression fade slightly.
"You have more than enough unwarranted cockiness to seduce anyone, that's for sure," she said. "I've heard that muggle women like that sort of thing."
Lucius snorted. "Enough of this. I'll return shortly."
He waved shortly to Lyra, spun on his heel, and appeared momentarily in front of the gates of the royal palace. Soon he would be done with this, he thought, and wouldn't it be nice to rub that in Lyra's face?
The problem was, Lucius thought several hours later, that he simply could not shift the conversation to the matter of his cousin, rotting in St. Stephen's Tower for an offense that was hardly worthy of punishment.
Whenever Lucius tried to make a leading remark — any news from St. Stephens, he would say, or I've been spending some time examining the code of laws that govern muggle-wizard relations — Elizabeth was ready to deftly maneuver the topic away from the subject that Lucius was really interested in.
He was half-sure that she knew why he was there, and at the same time convinced that that couldn't be the truth, because why would he still be here, if she were aware of the true nature of his visit? No, surely the queen was oblivious.
And yet —
"What an odd thing to ask," she said, leaning in to a distance that was rather too close for a polite engagement between a monarch and a member of a powerful aristocratic family. "I think I may have an answer to your question, but perhaps you would like to discuss…" Elizabeth gestured to their surroundings. "Elsewhere."
Lucius got the distinct impression that he was not quite as in control of the situation as he would have like to be.
"As you wish," he said, and tried to ignore the feeling that everything was going horribly wrong.
Malfoys did not fall in love. It simply wasn't done. The fact that Lucius lit up inside whenever he heard anyone so much as mention Lizzie was irrelevant, and so was the feeling that washed through him when she smiled at him.
"You need to understand," Lucius told [name] as he inspected his robes for wrinkles or lint. "I of course could pressure Lizzie into it, thereby sacrificing possible connections and future advantages. However, for the good of the Malfoy name and my descendents, I have chosen to delay on this front in the hopes of, at some point in the future, marrying the queen herself. I am sure that Rigel would understand; it's for the good of the family, really."
Lyra just raised an eyebrow. "Lizzie?" she asked, and Lucius blushed. "That's what I thought."
Seven months, two weeks, and one day after he strutted into the royal palace with a determined expression and a mission, Lucius was back outside the drawbridge. This time, however, he was struggling to compose his face for a very different reason.
Lucius looked down at the paper in his hand and tried not to throw up.
This was it, the reason that he had put on those ridiculous tights in the first place: WARRANT FOR RELEASE OF RIGEL MALFOY FROM GAOL.
"I know this was what you really came for all those months ago," Lizzie had said. "Well, here — you did it, you stole the heart of the queen herself. I offer you my congratulations and promise you that if I see you again, the encounter will almost certainly result in your untimely demise at the hands of my wizarding guard."
What was there to say? She was right. Lucius had what he wanted, and yet he didn't want what he had.
Lyra is going to be insufferable about this, he thought, and went home.