"Narcissa! Hide it for Merlin's sake! Quickly!" Lucius whispered urgently as he rushed past the drawing room. It was decorated in green and silver– Scorpius' favourite colours- that also happened to be the Slytherin House colours. Yes, Draco was ever so subtle, thought Lucius irritably as he briskly walked to the West wing of the Malfoy Manor in search of his grandson. It was his eleventh birthday, and by far the most important; for a witch or wizard anyway. Narcissa hadn't even tried to hide the present they had got Scorpius this year. One simple Disillusionment Charm, Narcy, that's all you've got to do, thought Lucius, shaking his head at his wife's incompetence. A small voice begged to remind him that if it weren't for her quick wit, the world would have been a far different place than it was today. Lucius might have preferred the principles that the Dark Lord followed, but he couldn't deny how much he enjoyed the peace of sitting at home with his grandson all day, everyday, not having to worry about the politics of the world out side The Manor. Lucius couldn't believe that eleven years were almost over!
He knocked gently on the ornately carved, mahogany, double-doors that led to Scorpius' room. They swung open smoothly without so much as a push. Confused, Lucius stepped into the large room. The bed sported rumpled green sheets and silver bedposts. Art supplies lay scattered along the floor and a large bookshelf covered an entire wall. The grand bay windows along the Western wall opened out into a balcony, and Scorpius was often found here when the sun would set. The entire room would alight with a golden fire, then.
Though the walls were whitewashed, Scorpius had been steadily making his way across the remaining two walls of the room with his paintings and doodles. Draco had long since given up trying to clean them away– it only upset the poor boy. Astoria, on the other hand, an artist herself, took inspiration from her son. She had been making her way across the long halls of The Manor. Once dull and ominous, they now sported happy frescos and beautiful murals. It was always a pleasure to catch sight of mother and son painting on the walls that house such bad memories for Draco's side of the family. It was almost as though Astoria and her son, for in this right Scorpius was truly hers alone, were bring life and happiness back into the family that was housed by the walls they so patiently and lovingly adorned with images.
Quickly scanning the room, sans Scorpius, Lucius swept out and marched furiously further down the hall, his emerald robes billowing. Where had his little angel gone? Lucius thought, a frown settling upon his elegant features. As old as he maybe – not a day over fifty if anybody asked – he had aged well. Nobody could deny that the Malfoy men were a good-looking lot.
"Scorpius!" He yelled, somewhat fervently. The picture of Lucius Malfoy hurrying frantically down a hallway of half-finished frescos yelling was one that might seem somewhat uncharacteristic– to those who had only known him during The War. To his family, this was normal behaviour. Like any normal, paranoid grandfather, Lucius couldn't bear to let Scorpius out of his sight. He spotted a little blonde head around the corner. Gathering his robes, Lucius rushed over. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw his little boy drawing what could only be his version of the Dark Mark on the wall.
"Scorpius! What is the meaning of this?" Lucius snapped, yanking the boy's paint-covered arm away from the wall. Wide grey eyes stared up at him, brimming with tears from the harsh tone.
"I was only drawing the tattoo you, Granma and Father have…" he muttered, ashamed and confused. His head dropped and his shoulders slumped in defeat.
Letting out a long sigh, Lucius knelt next to his grandson.
"Scorpius, my boy, these tattoos are a sign of something…" Lucius paused, images flashing before his mind's eye. The cruel acts of the Dark Lord, the horrendous things he did to children not much older than Scorpius was now, twisted ideologies that led to heinous acts of war. Little boys who were budding artists, loved to read, and who were ever so curious about the world – how many had he killed because they were Muggles? How many had he orphaned? How many lives had he ruined? Was it finally time to show his beloved grandson who he really is. Or was? No. Lucius decided firmly. He would keep it a secret form Scorpius as long as he could. "Something different, shall we say, than what the larger wizarding world believes in" He quickly finished, ruffling the young one's hair.
"Come now, there's a surprise for you in the living room. Eleven is a big year, my boy!" Lucius plastered a smile on his face and rose to his feet, pulling Scorpius up with him. The boy's eyes lit up at the mention of a surprise.
"I know mum planned a party." He grinned mischievously. His grey eyes sparkled with intelligence, just the way his father's had when he was young and untainted by the world and Lucius' bad choices. The thought surprised him, since when had he thought of following the Dark Lord as a bad decision?
Ignoring that, Lucius grinned at his cheeky progeny and motioned towards the powder room. Standing by the door, he wished he still had his wand– a simple cleaning spell would have done the trick. Well, that was certainly an unfortunate, and rather unfair, outcome of The War. He thought bitterly. How he missed the hum of his magic and the thrill of experiencing it manifest. But that was hardly reason to doubt that the Dark Lord's ideas were correct. What kind of life had his family led? How young Draco was when he was recruited. What might he have been if Lucius hadn't pushed him so?
Shaking his head to rid it of such thoughts, Lucius smiled down at Scorpius as they walked towards the living room together. The little boy smiled back, and gentle took his Granpa's hand. In that moment, Lucius saw a glimpse of the life he could have lead with Narcissa and Draco– a whole, happy family. Hiss heart ached for this image that would never be.
"SURPRISE!" A chorus of voices assaulted them as soon as they entered the living room. Quickly the boy was swept into multiple hugs– Nott, Zabini, Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle. For the first time, something didn't sit right with Lucius about the company they kept. He couldn't quite pinpoint the issue as he mingled politely. All pureblood, so they were of high standards. All had some family who had served the Dark Lord. They supported the idea that wizards are superior to all other creatures, and deserve such a position in society. They were his kind of people. But what kind of person was he? Is that who he wanted Scorpius to become? He was shaken out of his reverie when Scorpius ran up to him, squealing. He had just been in the garden, so clearly he had seen the gift he and Narcy had bought for him. Draco's frightened yet furious glare only confirmed this.
"Granpa," Scorpius asked, wide eyed with excitement, tugging at Lucius' sleeve, "is that a Hippogriff?"