Chapter Two

"Bloody hell, that goddamn, dung-eating gorgon," Rodolphus swears, sinking down into the empty chair beside Lucius. "May he rot in an early grave." He tosses his homework down in an angry huff, the heavy books slamming down against the table.

"Who?" Lucius asks, barely looking up from his divination essay. Rodolphus was always complaining about something, so the dark-haired boy's cursing was hardly unusual.

"Bartleworth," Rodolphus moans. "We're hardly three weeks into the bloody semester, and he's already making us take a bloody test on german curses. Who gives a bloody damn about german curses? The Germans don't know shit and that's clear in their cauldron habits. It's all 'Agrippa'-this and 'Agrippa'-that and I want to put my wand to my head and blow my bored brains out."

Lucius shrugs, his eyes not breaking from his paper. "Doesn't help, I'm sure, that you're a bloody git," he says compassionately.

Rodolphus throws a pencil at Lucius, but he ducks easily, letting it fly past his ear. "Are you going to help me or not?" he moans.

"Not," Lucius says easily. "I've got an essay to finish and then I'm meeting up with Circe."

"God not Circe," Rodolphus moans. "I thought you two broke up over the summer. Don't tell me she's back and leeching around."

Lucius shrugs, grinning slightly. "We did break up," he says. "And we're not back together. She's just satisfying an itch or two of mine."

Rodolphus rolls his eyes. "I'm sure it's more than just an itch. Circe's a whore. A whore and a horrible person."

"That's what I like about her," Lucius says, finishing the final paragraph and setting his quill down as he looks over his essay for mistakes. "That and she knows how to use her mouth in a more productive manner than idle chatter."

This brings a snort from Rodolphus who has begun to pull out his messy, crumpled potion notes. He tries half-heartedly to smooth them out as he looks at Lucius. "She's going to fall in love with you and then she's going to do something psychotic," he notes.

"Hmm, a psychotic whore, sounds more like your type of girl," Lucius says with a purposeful laziness in his voice. He knew how protective Rodolphus was of Bellatrix's reputation and he loved to prick the easily-angered boy.

"Say another word about my Bella being psychotic and I'll slice your throat, Malfoy," Rodolphus snarls.

"So you agree she's a whore."

Rodolphus acts quickly, pulling his wand out and aiming it at Lucius, but Lucius doesn't bother reaching for his own wand. Rather, he rolls his eyes, moving the wand away from his face with two fingers. "Oh, put that bloody thing away. I know you like Bellatrix's extracurricular habits, so don't attack me for mentioning them. You have, you know, given explicit retellings of her particular talents."

Rodolphus grumbles but puts his wand down. "How would you feel if I were to go about calling the girls you date whores-"

"You have."

"-and accusing them of being psychotic," he continues, ignoring Lucius's interruption. He slumps back in his chair, folding his arms grumpily as he stares pointedly at Lucius.

"Rodolphus Lestrange, you have done both in this conversation alone. Long before I ever made a comment about Bellatrix. At least I don't plan on marrying Circe. I'm just having myself a good time. You, however, are absolutely smitten with the crazy Black girl and seem quite irrational to the concept that some of us aren't looking to entangle ourselves with lunacy." Lucius sits up and leans to Rodolphus, looking at him with his cold, sharp eyes. "Facts are that Bellatrix probably has more than a few screws loose and she most definitely is a whore, but isn't that what you like about her?"
Rodolphus shrugs. "Well, it's not just that," he admits, "but it sure helps. And she's hot as hell. But also, I just like her. We get along. She matches my energy. And yeah, she's absolutely killer in bed. I mean, she knows this little trick with her tongue-"

"Say another word along those lines and I'll hex you," Lucius threatens coldly. "I'm incredibly uninterested in picturing Bellatrix Black in bed."

Rodolphus rolls his eyes. "You'll find a girl someday," he says. "And I hope to hell she's better than that giggling horror Circe Fairmonth. God, Lucius, seriously with her? She doesn't have a single solid thought in her head."

Lucius snorts. "Since when has that ever been important? I'm not dating her for her conversation skills."

Relaxing back into the seat, Rodolphus looks up to the ceiling. "You're going to have to find a girl someday. Or are you going to just leave it to your parents? Let them match you up to some trembling little virgin who quakes at your shadow?"

Lucius looks to his friend purposefully, getting serious. "I know that one day I'll need to find a girl," he says in a stoic tone. "I've always known that. And I don't plan on settling for some silly thing or some scared quaking girl. I won't settle for anything short of the highest caliber of girl. The problem is that I haven't met her yet. So I will continue to entertain myself with frivolous girls who don't mean a thing to me because it will make it all the easier to push them aside when the right girl finally arrives."

This brings a chuckle from Rodolphus. "I'm sure that makes Circe feel right special," he says.

"I don't give a damn what Circe feels."

"You're a cold one, Malfoy. I pity the girls you date."

Lucius stands, grabbing his things and sorting them into his sack. "And I pity Bellatrix. She's never known an ounce of satisfaction with you and yet she keeps pressing on. Poor girl must really be delusional."

This time Rodolphus throws a textbook at Lucius, but the agile boy moves to avoid the missile. He grins back to Rodolphus as he heads to the door. "I'll tell Circe you send your regards," he says with a grin.

"Tell her I think she's a bloody, no-good-"

Lucius shuts the door, blocking out whatever crude remark his friend was about to make and laughing under his breath. He shakes his head and heads to meet up with Circe. He meant what he said to Rodolphus. Circe was just a placeholder. Lucius was a Malfoy. Not only did that name bring prestige and wealth, it brought entitlement. He knew he was a bachelor in high demand; any good pureblood house would be throwing themselves at the Malfoys to match their daughters with Lucius. Handsome, wealthy, and one of the twelve pureblood names of prestige, Lucius Malfoy knew he was the best option and because of that, he would only accept the best. His future wife would be of prominent name, graceful, intelligent, and stunningly beautiful. It's what he deserved and he wouldn't settle for anything less than that. He just hadn't found her yet.