AN: This was a drabble sort of inspired by something I had seen on Facebook. This is unbeta'd and I tried to make it a drabble but it did not quite work out that way. I wanted to write how I see Lucius having to deal every petty gripe Draco has.

Premise: Narcissa is out on an epic shopping trip - leaving Lucius alone with Draco for the day. At breakfast Draco tells him what Hermione did on the day of Buckbeak's assassination.

What Lucius Heard

The problem, Lucius thought as he rubbed his temples in frustration, was having a son that felt entitled to even the pettiest revenge. He knew that if he went to Abraxas over every personal slight against his person his father would not be so generous as he was over Draco. Every little thing...It seemed not a day went by without seeing his owl swoop in with a letter that he knew would contain resentment against either Potter, Granger or both. He looked down at the missive his son sent him, he poured himself a fire-whiskey to help soothe his temper, he would have to break Draco's urge to run to him over minor matters. Someone had to teach him that Draco was responsible for his own actions, as Narcissa was not concerned in this, babying their son as she did, it was up to him to be the disciplinarian.

It appeared that Miss Granger, the constant source of unrest in the Malfoy household, was doing more than double the course load. His observant son had noticed her speaking of taking one class when she was clearly in another. Of course, he frowned, Lucius knew why that was. As School Governor he had to be one of the signatories on the permission slip, coupled also with his high ranking job in the Ministry for Magic under the Education sector, Lucius had his say.

Informing his son that the muggle-born was granted a privilege Draco would not have would be the cause of further aggravation that Lucius could do without. Lucius was certain that Draco, once told, would have the sudden need to have one of the cursed things. Idly, Lucius wondered, what Dumbledore was thinking of by allowing a 13-year-old to regularly use something that even Unspeakables feared to utilise? No matter how responsible the witch was, no child should bear the consequences of time-travel. For once, Lucius was not thinking of the blood status of said witch but was musing the thoughts of a parent, he knew he would deny his own daughter the damaging tool and ask her to make choices. There were times when he was genuine in his statement that Hogwarts needed a better Headmaster than Dumbledore for all pupils in the school. Hell, he sighed, he'd take the old cat any day over that old codger, at least she was firm and fair. She praises with the same hand that she punishes with. To Lucius, a man where Good Form was essential, Professor McGonagall was a more desirable a candidate to have rather than the self-serving, biased Dumblebore.

Still, it was near the school years end, and Lucius was sure that he'd be pestered and nagged about the further exploits of the terrible triplets. He had to check he'd enough Headache Reliever Potion for the onset of constant migraines that his son would surely be the cause of throughout the summer months.

Two Months Later

Draco was sat in sullen pose at the breakfast table. Slouching in his seat like a ruffian. Lucius looked up at the portrait of his father who had wandered out of his frame – Abraxas had always deplored Lucius' ability as a father. Sometimes, Lucius conceded, that his father was right to do so. Then again, Lucius sighed, Abraxas did not have to put up with Narcissa as a wife.

Draco's face twisted in disgust as he stabbed a sausage rather brutally.

"Draco, please eat with the semblance of manners you have been taught," Lucius said. "A Malfoy is never to be seen vicious in anything. One must always be elegant and delicate in matters. Eating, especially so. We are, after all, not cavemen."

"I was just imagining it was Potter's smug face, father," his son said harshly.

"What has he done now?"

"Nothing, just exists."

Lucius hummed a little in response, as he delicately sipped at his tea. Narcissa was on one of her epic shopping trips. This left Lucius alone with Draco for the entire day. Lucius rolled his eyes as the prospect of the day ahead would be fraught with his spoilt child's woe-is-me act.

"So, what do you have planned for the day, Draco?"

All he got in reply was a non-committal shrug of the shoulders and a grunt of 'dunno', to which Lucius sighed with exasperation at his son's lack of manners.

"First of all," Lucius said coldly, "the expression is: 'I do not know,' generally followed by, 'what my plans for the day are, father;' then you politely request what mine are. If I had imagined their habits would have rubbed off on you, I would not have encouraged your friendship with Mr's Crabbe and Goyle. However, as I now have to reap the disappointment that poor decision has sowed I shall remind you, once again, you are a Malfoy. Act like it! I never want to hear such sluggish words from your mouth again."

Lucius then nodded when he saw Draco straighten his spine but still spearing the food forcefully on his plate. This was about something more than Potter.

"Stupid mudbloods!" he heard Draco mutter.

Ah, now we're getting somewhere, Lucius thought as he picked up a forkful of scrambled egg. It was the girl. It was always about her.

"Fine," Lucius said irritably. "You had best tell me what Miss Granger has done this time."

"If I do, you promise to make her pay?"

"I am not going to fight your every battle for you, Draco, perhaps if you tried to pretend to be charming then maybe you would not have so many for me to hear about."

"Why should I pretend for a mudblood?"

"In this current political climate, it would do you good," Lucius said. "So, no, I will not 'make her pay', as you asked. Just tell me what infraction it was she had committed against you."

"Remember the odious animal that dared attack me," Draco gulped down his pumpkin juice.

"Oh yes, Buckbeak, I believe the creature was called."

Lucius wished he could lean his head in his hands at the table. He had the habit of putting his elbows on the table beaten out of him by his Governess. Even alone with Draco, Lucius did not cave into the desire for bad manners. Still, he was already beginning to feel the veins in his forehead pulse with the start of a headache. Propriety and good manners were learned through example, so he set the example for his sour-faced son.

"Yeah, well perfect Potter flown on it and came back looking so pleased with himself. Then I volunteered, and it attacked me, for no reason whatsoever!"

"I do recall Buckbeak was a Hippogriff, and according to Miss Granger's testimony, it was you who failed protocol and etiquette."

Honestly, if it was not for Narcissa screaming bloody murder at the letter and 'witness statements' from fellow Slytherins, Lucius would not have raised an eyebrow let alone anything else to aid his son. As far as he was concerned, Hippogriff's were a noble species who required trust and respect – he had a healthy dose of both for the handsome species. His wife, on the other hand, kept to crups and kneazles. Sometimes, she marvelled at Unicorn Mares feeding their golden foals. In truth, Lucius was pleased the creature had escaped. He was less pleased about Sirius Black, the impudent wizard he'd always found irksome, had also managed to escape – Lucius would not be at all surprised if the two events were not as singular as he had been led to believe.

"Whatever, anyway, that oaf Hagrid was blubbering over the horrid beast – I was hoping he'd be sacked, hoping you'd win, in fact I boasted you would. I mentioned the beast was getting what was coming to it!"

He could almost see where his son's story was heading: "Indeed, what then?"

"Well, she overheard, didn't she and out of nowhere – picked the heaviest book she could and used it to slap me around the face, having the nerve to state that I was nothing but a foul loathsome evil little cockroach!"

"Hmm," Lucius murmured. "I see you have finished your breakfast, I will ruminate on what you have told me. Make sure to never tell your mother, you know how delicate she is."

"Yes father," Draco's expression brightened as it seemed his pater was taking him seriously.

Visibly mollified by his father's statement, Lucius watched as Draco left the table and practically ran out of the breakfast room. Once the door was shut, Lucius warded the room with a muffliato.

Then, he smirked and raised his cup of tea in the air: "Bravo, Miss Granger," he said to the empty room. "Bravo."

He was truly impressed that someone had disciplined his son in a manner that he could not. Then, when he could no longer hold it in, he laughed uproariously loud as the image of the tiny, bushy haired female giving his son a ticking off, took residence in his mind.

When he relayed the story over a snifter with Severus in the evening long after Narcissa had gone to bed he was surprised to see a little smirk on the Potion's Master's lips.

"Do you think Potter will win, Severus?" he asked. "Man-to-man now."

He watched his friend shuffling in his seat as the awkward silence stretched between them. Finally, Severus answered...

"Only if he listens to Miss Granger," he said.

If that was not high praise, Lucius surmised, he did not know what was.

"Well then," he said. "Now, let us talk of the World Cup Quidditch Match..."

AN: This may be part of a series that will lead to Lumione love.