~||Time skip. 1+ month later. Mid-July. Yeah I skipped his birthday and there's nothing u can do 'bout it|| ~
Draco P.O.V.
"Daaad! I'm heading out again! I promise to be back by curfew. Oh right. Can I have a 50? I'm gonna buy a whole new wardrobe today and some other stuff!"
I slipped on my black outdoor dress shoes and went to dad holding out both my hands for the money. I'd need to stop by the bank to exchange it for gold before heading over to the Manor.
"Okay."
Dad took out a blank cheque and wrote £50,000 (as well as all the other required information/authentication singatures) before handing it to me.
"Thanks dad. Love you. Bye!"
I hugged my dad and waved goodbye. I'm not really a hugger but dad always gets pouty when I don't hug him before leaving. I saw Potter stroll into the foyer from the dining room with some bread in hand. I also waved goodbye to him.
"Bye. Mr. Potter."
Without dad, I usually still just call him Potter. It's not disrespectful, he prefers to be called that. He visited us for my birthday, and was only supposed to stick around for 3 weeks for a Vacation to tour London, but it seems his office called and asked him to stay for a case that involved I.W.P = wizarding interpol. He wouldn't crack no matter how hard I tried to get any info out of him, so I stopped asking. Afterall, I have a big day ahead of me.
Accidentally slamming the door behind me, I ran out to the back of our Manor and passed our chaperone into our car.
"To central bank, if you would please, William. Thank you. Afterwards, we will head to the Leaky Cauldron. You can head home afterwards. I'll call you again when I need a ride."
Thankfully it was quite simple for me to open an account at British Gringotts and linking it to my already existing account in America. I wouldn't have to shuffle funds between them. Strangely enough they didn't require blood authentication… Well, it may be due to the fact that no noble blood lineages originate from America, and blood purity doesn't even exist there, so inheritances are not an issue. Hence, when an American wizard dies with no stated heir, all their wealth immediately gets absorbed by the bank. More money and less paperwork for them.
"A'ight, Tom. 'aven't eaten Brekkie yet 'ave ye? Tha's not good. Yer dad should've at least fed yer somethin'."
"Nah I'm good. I'm planning to eat Breakfast in Diagon Alley. I heard Rosa Lee started selling rose-petal cakes just yesterday."
William got into the driver's seat and looked back to make sure I was strapped in before going to the bank. Ah right, he's a squib and works for us full time since his last job only paid him tosh. 4 Galleons, 16 Sickles, and 18 Knuts (£15) an hour as a dustman is ridiculous! You would expect people tasked to touch rubbish to pe paid more. I wouldn't do the job if my life depended on it.
… Well. In hindsight, I would probably do it. But I would hate every second of it!
*Back inside Stark Manor*
"That's it? You let your son out, and you just gave him fifty grand?"
Samuel asks with his eyebrow raising in incredulity at his friend. . . friend's father… friend and friend's father.
"He's got a bracelet that acts as a gps and a health monitoring system to let me know if he's in danger for rising adrenalin and cortisol. There's also a distress button on it in case of emergencies."
Both of the man's eyebrows are now raised, bewildered at Tony's way of reasoning.
"Okay a monitoring system, but fifty grand?! I know it's worth almost nothing to you, but you have to teach your kids about the value of money for when they become adults. No wonder he doesn't know budgeting"
"Ehm. I trust him. Besides, Tom's already got a degree and his lab is gaining traction for being continuously mentioned in Science Daily, Scientific American, and New Scientist. People are putting it's name out there like Pym and Horizon labs. I'm not exactly sure how much he's earning, but I think around a tenth of what I do? Well, his no-Maj studies earn about that much. His wizarding laboratory earnings will stay in Gringotts until he's 17. If he can earn that much, he can spend as much as he likes. What more can a parent ask for?"
Tony shrugs, and Samuel looks at him incredulously. Why hasn't he learned about this before? Sure he introduced Tom to some of his friends since Tom said he was interested in asking some alchemy questions, but he never heard about any labs?!
"… A tenth is?"
"Around 150-175M?"
Samuel almost can't help but feel defeated.
"… You trust him that much? . . . Is it because he's a genius?"
"A genius?"
Tony smirks and raises an eyebrow at Samuel.
"I wouldn't call him a genius." Tony shakes his head. His smirk morphing into a fond smile as he glances down at his lap as though seeing an image others can't see.
"He's smart, yes. But he doesn't take a glance at a nuclear power plant and understands how the thing works. He researches. Reads. Observes. Asks questions. Makes conjectures. And questions everything he has read. Then he starts to understand. His intelligence isn't a gift. It is the product of his hard work. He tries to pretend otherwise but he can't fool me."
The corners of Samuel's lips lift up into an amused smirk and teases his friend.
"Then is he like you? A researcher whose nose is always stuck in his work. I wouldn't be surprised."
Samuel smirks pesteringly.
"Like me?"
Tony looks at Samuel as though baffles he would even suggest such a thing and laughs.
"He is nothing like me. I see the people around me and build my world around them. He sees the world and us a part of it. He's sly and mischievous to those he meets and sincere to those who know him. He manipulates others like a master puppeteer, yet he's softhearted and you can't help but protect and trust him. He knows things as though he can see through the universe, yet he's too brave and loyal to the point of idiocy. He once ran in front of me to shield me from bullets, yet he's too afraid to meet my eyes when I catch him with his hand in the cookie jar."
Tony's eyes are squinted with joy as he retells his son's tales with a smile stretching from ear to ear. Then he deeply sighs, relishing the feeling and smell of the air as it enters and exits his lungs.
"I'm just a genius, playboy, billionaire, philanthropist. That's it. Four words. But all the words in the dictionary aren't enough to describe what he is. He's more than that."
Tony's eyes turn clouded, and he bites his lip, feeling the insecurity and disappointment in himself consume him.
"And sometimes I even fear I'm not good enough for him. So no. He's not like me. He's more. He's. . . better"
Tony faces back towards the man with the same fond smile he had in the beginning. Insecurity and self-disappointment were replaced by fondness and pride. Samuel couldn't help also smiling along, seeing the love within Tony's eyes that shone brighter and clearer than the sun at mid-day. Truly a parent's love is blind.
"You forgot some words, Tony."
Tony's eyebrow raised, and his smile disappeared into a confused frown.
"You're a good father. And that's worth more than those four other words and even a million more because being a good father adds far more depth to your repertoire of descriptions than you think. Just think, you're courageous enough to raise him and good enough to raise him right. That's already more than what most people can do. So you don't need to worry about being too far behind your son."
Samuel gave a friendly jab to Tony's shoulder as he smirks knowingly.
"So catch up to him, and show him who's the man of the house."
Tony's eye widened in shock as he processed those words his companion said. Not long after did a smile break onto his face, and a burst of deep resounding laughter escaped him, filling the room with joy.
"Wrong! I'm not a father! I'm a dad. He hasn't called me father in years! Last time he called me that was when he was still a baby."
Samuel cordially hits Tony's shoulder again, this time purposefully stronger.
"OW!"
Tony glares at Samuel with blame and betrayal in his eyes.
"If your friend wants to cheer you up, stop correcting them! Merlin. Do you have to contradict everything I say?"
Tony grins mischievously at his irritated friend.
"Yes."
Samuel shakes his head and mutters 'like father like son.' He defeatedly smiles at Tony.
"He's more like you than you think. For one you're both insecure whinny babies hidden under all that cockiness and glamour. I know what your past was Tony. Protocol for parents of no-maj born wizards. But you're not defined by your past. Right now, I see a softhearted marshmallow of a man carrying the weight of the world on top of this huge collosal armor, and doing a fantastic job at both raising his son and protecting his world. You may not be doing a perfect job, but trust me when I say there is no one more experienced or better equipped for the job you're doing right now- living as Tony Stark. You're already the most perfect man for the job and doubting yourself is crying over spilled milk. You're a much better man than you think you are Tony. Really."
"Awe stop it you~ I'm gonna blush!"
Tony punches Samuel's arm, and does a little shake with his hands in fists next to his cheeks imitating a cutesy baby wiping it's tears that became a trend in Korea a few years back – or a cat rubbing it's paws back and forth in front of it's face depending on which part of Asia one is more familiar with[1].
Samuels could feel his blood pressure rising, and stands up to leave before the obviously 'mischievous and manipulative (yet softhearted and sincere) father' makes him vomit either blood or his breakfast. . . or both.
"Leaving so soon? Awe come on~ won't you stay fow wunch and compwement me mowe?"
"F*uck you Tony."
Samuel waved goodbye to tony with his longest finger, and apparated away.
Tony looks up at the ceiling, thinking over Samuel's words.
"No one does me better than me, huh."
He smiles at the world that suddenly seems brighter. More confident and much stronger to continue doing what he does best. Living as Tom's dad, and protecting the world as Iron Man. He's surer of himself, and he knows that he's ready to face the world (and not long into the future, the universe).
Tony stands up from the couch and stretches his back and shoulders.
"Alright, time to find Loki and end whatever he's up to."
Draco P.O.V.
"50k pounds to Galleons. 7500 Galleons and 8500 Sickles in a mokeskin. The rest in my vault. No. 1048. Tom Stark."
I placed down 10 stacks of a hundred £50 bills on the table that was far too high for my liking. The Gringotts Goblin grunted, baring his teeth for a moment in displeasure. The displeasure is shared vile disgusting creature. The displeasure is shared.
"Signature"
A small sheet of paper that was pinched by the ends of the Goblin's unpolished and hideous fingernails was draped over the edge of the table. I nicked my thumb and pinched the paper before letting it go to be dragged back into view of the vile character.
I heard some shuffling of papers, clacking of wooden drawers, and scribbling of quills while waiting for his crooked hand to appear over the table and hand me my money so I can get out of here.
The Goblin grunted once more before the bag finally appeared within my field of vision. I clasped the bag careful not to touch the creature's hand, before turning on my heel and dashing out of there.
Finally.
I stashed the pouch into an inside pocket of my coat. Stepping out of Gringotts, I held my hand up over my eyes, shielding me from the glare of the morning sun. How strange. Since when did England have this much sun?
I went over the list of necessities I needed to quickly purchase before going to visit my father. 'This is going to be a long day' I thought as I ambled through the familiar streets.
*Timeskip to Malfoy Manor*
Third-person P.O.V.
Lucius paces in his room, staring at the small trunk atop the desk of what was once his wife's vanity mirror.
It was nearing his son's birthday, and as such, he needed a birthday present. With the limited time and power he had, he was only able to purchase a simple limited edition beginner's potions kit with 'Tom' written on a tag attached with a single golden string. He hopes that Tom wouldn't be too disappointed.
Apart from that, Laying innocently on the trunk was an ivory white letter with a name written in golden calligraphy.
His father, Abraxas, has been able to convince Madame Maxime to admit one 'Draco Lefrançois', regardless of the name currently being absent on the family register with a promise that this would be taken care of soon enough. 'Narcissa has always spoken about how she would want to name him Draco if he were a boy.' Lucius thought as he went over his plans in his head.
The Lefrançois were Abraxas's mother's maternal family, and they have shown that they were more than willing to adopt Tom as their own until the Dark Lord had been caught. They have simply required a few signed cooperations with the Malfoys as compensation. The Malfoys and the Lefrançois both held power and prestige in France, thus it would be difficult for the dark lord to reach them there. He could only hope that Tom would willingly follow him there without much opposition.
Afterall, though his power doesn't reach as far as it did 12 years ago, Lucius was confident that through him the Lefrançois would be able to provide for Tom more than any muggle could. And maybe, on the occasion where it is safe, Lucius may be able to visit him swiftly and unnoticeably enough that it would seem as though he was never there. He was also certain that Tom would pick wizards over muggles any day since to him the opposition was simply ludicrous.
Meanwhile, just outside the Manor, Draco had gotten off the wizarding bus and walked through the gates that were enchanted to let in no one but those with Malfoy blood as well as their invited guests. Draco looked up at the manor with melancholy in his eyes. With a smile tugging on his lips, he quickened his pace through the long hedge path that leads straight to his destination.
Feeling a heavier weight on his shoulder, he gave a tug on his coat and noticed something hit the back of his shin. Looking down, he sees that a rat was biting on the tail of his coat for dear life as though it didn't want to let go of its prey.
Draco shuddered, and he immediately shook it off with a yelp. The rat had been flung off of his coat and dashed into the hedge wall on his right.
"Weltch! Ah no, Weltch's dead. Bobby!"
With a pop in the air in front of him, a wrinkly elf with droopy ears and large green eyes appeared.
"Yes master, Dobby heard Sir's calling. What does mister Tom need of Dobby to do sirs?"
'Ugh. Again with that appalling grammar.' Draco transiently thought, before barking out his order.
"Clean the garden of vermin. I don't want to see a single rat or any other pest the next time I step on these grounds."
"Yes mister Tom sirs. Dobby will do as sir orders." The elf bowed with a shake in his step and left with a pop, just as quickly as he appeared.
Draco shook his head and muttered while complaining to himself that the nutty elf keeps forgetting to call him master despite Father telling the elf to refer to him as such. But he quickly let's go of the thought for more anticipated ones about the day ahead that he will spend with his father.
Draco P.O.V.
I petted Catalipsie who laid in my lap as I listened to father tell me more about how to increase and decrease the worth of real estate. It has been just like for a couple of days the past few weeks, just us talking to each other for hours on end. At first, he tried to give me preparatory lessons on subjects that I would soon take in wizarding school, but after proving my competency in all relevant subjects, he decided that our days were better spent just like this. Lazing around the house, ordering the elves to do work, and simply enjoying each other's company while talking about more practical matters.
At the beginning it was only me, talking on and on about my new life. I even ended up teaching him how to use a smartphone since he asked why it was buzzing so often, but he still refused to be given one. I couldn't tell him everything, like being raised in America, since there was an angry glint in his eyes when I spoke of my new no-maj dad, but recently he doesn't seem that pissed off knowing I was raised by a no-maj. Nevertheless, I'm extremely glad father turned out to be more understanding and tolerant than I knew him capable of.
Slowly, I got father to talk more, and I couldn't help but just listen and listen as he passed down generations of accumulated Malfoy Wisdom. The sound of his voice drowning out the world, as he gives me lessons, advice, or just tells me stories about mother, about his life before the war, and his hopes for me.
I loved listening to father, his voice soothes all my worries as though it were a lullaby. Or. . . no. you fall asleep when you hear lullabies. It would be plebian to fall asleep during important lectures or discourse. But what else soothes me? . . . Mother's piano? Yes, just like the sound of mother playing the organ.
"Tom, are you listening to me?"
"Yes, father!"
I give a big grin as I reply.
"Then what did I just say?"
"Well, that basically Wholesale quick turns give faster cash and increase our partnership with investors while laying low from investigators, but Retail quick turns give both faster and better cash if I'm capable enough to get our people to sell them to dimwits. In that regard, point organizations are a nice way to easily cut off our tails that do get caught, which is how we Malfoys are able to keep our finance steady and constant generation after generation. The trick is to never get caught. Backup plan B is to erase our tracks directly from within the Ministry, plan C is to exert influence from the mouth of the top of the ministry, plan D is to exert pressure on the Ministry with help from our long time family friend, Britain's Royal family, plan F is import influence from our connections in France and Germany, and plan G if all else fails, feign ignorance, while moving our wealth to Scottland where I would resume the Black family heritage under our ancestral maternal lineage, the Gamp. (Plan H, leave it to dad hahaha)."
I beam when Father does his best not to grin at my less than appropriate but greatly amusing digest of his lesson. My life feels almost complete and peaceful. If only mother were here.
. . .
"Father, where is mother?"
Father froze in place, and frost seemed to glaze over his eyes. But he quickly composed himself and glanced at me with the fondest (fakest) smile he could make. As though he was about to explain something placatingly to an immature preschooler who would throw a fit at any second and it slightly infuriated me.
"Tom. I hope you understand, but I had to leave her. She had to leave our side for her own safety."
Safety?
Father took a deep breath, and his eyes turned darker and emotionless. He's occluding his mind. Why? Is he holding something far too painful to tell without doing so?
"Listen Tom. I am about to tell you my shame. I hope you will never make the same mistake I have. When the Dark Lord was still in power, he branded his followers with a mark they could not get rid of. I was stupid enough to have that mark branded on me."
Father lifted his left sleeve, showing me a mark, I was far too familiar with for my own comfort. The Dark Mark.
"Please memorize this mark, son. Anyone you see with this mark, run away. Do you understand?"
His gaze was hard and unrelenting. He was very much serious, and I understand why far too clearly.
"Yes, father."
He nodded his head and pulled his sleeve down, relieved to do so.
"The mark is inescapable; he can find anyone no matter where they go. That is why I cannot be with your mother, Tom, since the only way to find your mother is through me. The Dark Lord wants to kill both you and your mother because of a grudge he has against your aunt. Since I never registered you as a Malfoy, you are invisible in the wizarding world."
Aunt Bellatrix? Why?
"I understand your confusion, son. But I cannot tell you why, I cannot tell you anymore than I already have, for your own good as well as your mother's. So please Tom, please promise me that you will not look for her."
That is why you are hiding like this? Why she is hiding? Why you never came to look for me? I understand self-preservation, hell I live and breathe it! But when did the Malfoy's all lose their backbones!
"But they all say that You-Know-Who is dead! What power could he still possibly have over you?!"
I almost screamed in exasperation. A surprised emotion quickly flashed past his eyes then he gave me a knowing look as though persuading me to iterate what I already knew and prove his suspicion… no certainty that I already knew. 'Because he's not yet really dead.'
But I couldn't tell him even if he knows that I know, since this isn't information that someone like me should and could possibly know. So, I nodded my head and lowered my gaze.
Even without looking, I could feel my father's gaze cautiously analyzing me. Slightly disappointed that I didn't do as he persuaded that I do, but also impressed that I didn't.
"But how-?" How do you know? And How is he still alive? My questions hung in the air but before they could be asked father cut me off with a sharp look.
Ahh… I asked too much. But I can't stop asking. Not now. Not when there's so much, I don't know. Even if it's not about that, I need to know more.
"I understand why you had to leave mother and why you never looked for me. But, what prevents him from killing you? Why didn't you at least run away to another country where you could live better? At least that would prevent him from apparating to you."
"Tom."
"Why stay here and live like sheep for slaughter where he could kill you any second? You can't even walk around comfortably in Diagon alley since Britain persecutes you as a death eater, imperioed or not. I've seen the newspapers father."
"Tom."
"Why didn't you live lavishly elsewhere? The Malfoy inheritance couldn't have been THAT depleted by the Death Eaters. I would much prefer not to see you but with you living happily, rather than seeing how you were when I first arrived. When I first came here the house had more dirt than the garden, and there was nothing growing there anymore but weeds!"
"That's enough, Tom!"
"But father-!"
"Enough!"
I jolted in my seat, scared at father's sudden outburst and tears welled up in my eyes. But I can't stop. I won't. I can't.
"But what about mother?" I could not help asking. My heart felt heavy in my chest as my hands clenched the cloth of my trousers.
"Why can't I see her? Why didn't she look for me? Wouldn't she want to see. . . me?" Every inch of me was shaking as an emotion I couldn't really recognize seeped into my bones, making my limbs cold. My breath came out in shuddering breaths. Oh no. Oh no. I was too immature. Father is going to be disappointed in me. Why didn't you stop speaking? Why?
"I'm sorry, I know it is very childish of me to insist, and-" Before I could utter another word, my head was smothered in a warm chest, as I was embarrassed by arms whose touch, I didn't realize I had forgotten but now could remember.
"Draco. Being childish is your rightful claim at your age. In fact, for the short time I've spent with you, you've been far too mature. I want you to act your age. And your mother would certainly be so proud to see the brilliant, kind, and strong young man you've become."
I felt something drip onto my neck, and father released me but held me in place at arm's length. Once again, I saw the pain and remorse within his eyes, and I scolded myself. How could you keep hurting your own father like this?
"But you can't go see her. Promise me you won't look for her."
". . . I promise."
Father's gaze upon me didn't rest until he was sure that I was going to keep my promise. And I was. I've been gone for 10 years, so father should know how things are, better than I do. There is a reason why father asks me to stay away from mother, and by the look in his eyes, it is more for my own good rather than hers. Following what he says is the smart thing to do. But I can't help but worry as I look at father. 'But why didn't you leave?'
He looks at me and intuitively knows what I was thinking about. I know he didn't read my mind because I would have felt it, but he may as well have.
"You're worried about me." He says. With another thought clear in his eyes but left unsaid. 'You're still wondering why I didn't leave, why I'm still alive even if I said the Dark Lord could track me down.' I nod my head and wipe my tears. Clearing my head to listen to him once more. He sighs as though defeated, yet still acquiesces to my whims.
"You're too smart and too curious for your own good." He whispers more to himself than to me. He pulls over his chair, before sitting down and looking at me with an indulgent gaze and a small smile.
"There are many reasons why I didn't leave and why I'm still alive. I have something of the Dark Lord's that prevents him from killing me as it is something he cannot obtain without me. Your mother being in hiding, and you being unregistered, will hinder him from finding and hence killing you both. However, my existence prevents him from doing so even if he does find you. Once you are both dead, there is nothing he can use to lure me out and cater to his will. But I don't want things to get to that point. He only needs one of you alive to secure my subservience, and I don't want to lose either of you."
"But how does he know I exist if I'm unregistered? And why would he want to kill either me or mom? Wouldn't kidnapping both of us, if he does find both of us, be a better bargaining chip for him?" Father raised his hand and rubbed his thumb on the skin between my eyebrows to release the tension I didn't know I was forming.
"Don't knit your eyebrows Tom, it will give you wrinkles."
Lucius takes a deep breath, preparing himself to utter a story he would have preferred to never revisit.
"He knows you exist because your aunt was tasked to kill you. She didn't and hence her defiance alone is enough for him to murder every single wizard in her family. You especially because he already ordered your death, yet you are still alive. Currently, he has disappeared, so it's still safe for you to be here. But I doubt it would stay that way for long. He may reappear once the Boy-who-lived returns to the wizarding world in order to kill the boy. (And when he does, he will kill you and/or your mother.)"
I nod my head. Slowly understanding more of the situation we had at hand. But there is still something lingering at the front of my mind.
"But why didn't you just leave whatever he needs here in the Manor and escape? Wouldn't he still be unable to reach it?" Father gave a knowing smirk that I remember seeing whenever he was proud of me for something I'd done right, but that can't be right. It doesn't fit the context.
"Because I always believed that you would find your way home again, that you would find us again and I was right. I would prefer you find me first than find her, and you now know why. So, I stayed."
I nodded my head as everything was clicking into place. All my anger, confusion, and longing were being washed away, only to be left with sadness. Father patted my head before cupping my cheek and lifting my gaze which I didn't realize had fallen to the ground, to meet his.
"But you're here now, and I can leave knowing you understand why everyone has to hide and why you can't ever look for us again until it is safe. But now I have a better proposal. Which is why I was going to ask of you Tom, if you would allow my selfishness."
Father reached into the chest compartment of his cloak and tugged on something. I vaguely saw a part of an ivory white envelope with something written on it in gold, before both our attentions were pulled by the sound of something hitting a window coming from the living room.
In a second, I saw fear and worry flash through my father's eyes and he broke into a cold sweat. He quickly turned to face me with all seriousness on his face and whispered "Go to my room. Now. And don't come out until I open the door. If you feel it has been too long, there is a key under the rug beside my bed. Grasp it tightly and never let go until you touch solid ground. It will take you someplace else. Don't worry about me, I will do whatever it takes to survive and you should as well. Do you understand?"
I quickly nod my head and turn to quietly rush towards the hallway leading to father's room. I curse to myself inside my own head on why I'm not doing anything again but running away again. But how could I turn back when I can't even defend myself? The only magic I can do are non-lethal, and I haven't yet received my wand.
Father will survive. I know he will! Even in my past life, he passed away at an age far older than what mother and I reached. I stood in front of father's door grasping the doorknob until my knuckles were white.
But I can't… I can't just leave him.
I turn around and run past the hallway to the living room. However, I stopped in my tracks when I notice the door to my left creaked open slightly ajar. Did that door just… move? I felt something coming from within that door. Like tendrils of something tugging at my magic, telling me to come closer.
I also felt it try to affect my mind, but my occlumency kept it in check. Against better judgment, I thought that maybe I could use whatever was inside to help father since I was currently powerless. Afterall, if it turns out to be something I can't use, I can just leave it. There is nothing for me to lose, but I can potentially gain something that may help me protect father.
Third person P.O.V.
Lucius rushed to the living room where he heard something hitting the windows only to find that it was an owl. 'A letter? How strange. I shouldn't be getting any letters from anyone.' He thought.
Lucius cautiously opened the window observing the owl for any peculiarities, and scanning the magic around it in case it was an animagi or imperioused. But he found nothing. It was simply a normal messaging owl that was slightly pissed off since Lucius wasn't making any moves to take the letter it had delivered.
Taking the square-ish envelope, the owl almost immediately took off after sensing that Lucius had no treats at hand to give. He glanced down at the envelope, and immediately recognized the insignia sealed on the red wax. 'Hogwarts? But I already left the Board of Directors.'
Lucius turned the envelope over and read a name that shouldn't exist except outside of his mind. 'Draco Lucius Malfoy'
Cold realization struck down his spine, as his limbs grew cold yet his fingertips burned as though the enveloped he held was forged from hellfire. No. He has seen this name before. He's seen it every day, every hour and second from dawn to dusk and dusk to dawn. Familiar gold letters etched on a single piece of cloth he held dear on his person. And he realized that he made the worst mistake of his life deluding himself that his son was unknown and hence safe.
The black family tapestry was linked directly to the ministry's family records. Someone had already registered him on their family; hence the Malfoy family lineage was updated without his knowledge. Bellatrix must have named him. And Tom… No... Draco was no longer safe.
Lucius falsely believed that Draco could only enter the manor because he allowed it as an expected guest either consciously or unconsciously. But now he knows it is because Draco had already been recognized as a true Malfoy by the manor. This would explain the several days Draco had already entered the manor and was serving him breakfast before he had even woken up to give the Manor the command to let Draco in.
Wild magic surged within Lucius and incinerated the unopened letter that was now crumpled in his hand. Twisting on his heel, Lucius dashes towards his bedroom where he knew Draco to be, yet upon arrival, wasn't there.
[1] This is "Aegyo" in Korean - which refers to a cute display of affection often expressed including but not limited to through a cute/baby voice, facial expressions, and gestures. Ex. Shy Shy Shy – is an aegyo dance move in Twice's song, Cheer up.
It is also very similar to a 'cat gesture' in Japan that imitates 'cats', and usually the person is saying 'nyan' (English: "meow"). Imagine a cat cleaning it's face with it's paw, but with using both hands and with minimal arm movement.