For the Build A House! Challenge on the Ministry of Magic Discord.


Lucius Malfoy is a common sight at Hogwarts Castle. Students have long since learnt to clear the corridors when they hear his voice—usually full of complaints—carry through the school's halls, all keen to avoid any spontaneous lashes from his trademark cane.

But this time is different. This time, when Seamus and Dean scurry into a hidden alcove to hide during Malfoy's latest visit, Seamus catches sight of something—of someone—that makes him pause.

"Oi!" Seamus elbows Dean in the side. Then, ignoring his friend's resulting yelp, Seamus pulls Dean's arm, tugging him into the open. "Who's that?"

Dean, still grumbling, looks in the same direction before quickly retreating into the safety of the niche. Seamus, awestruck, follows mindlessly.

"Seriously?" He rubs (a little too dramatically, Seamus thinks) at his side. "That's just the Malfoys. You know? The ones we're hiding from?"

"Both of them?"

Dean looks at Seamus likes he's grown another head. "Yeah. Obviously. You know that."

"Nah, mate." Seamus is in awe. "I didn't know Malfoy's mum was—"

"So hot?" Dean tips his neck back, letting his head hit the wall. "Yeah, I know. It's crazy, right? That a prat like Malfoy could come from someone like that."

Seamus couldn't have put it better himself. It's simply inconceivable. The woman in the corridor had been elegant and regal. And yeah, perhaps a little snotty looking, but she'd carried it well. And with long legs, a small waist, and blonde hair pinned neatly in a tight bun, Seamus is sure Narcissa Malfoy would look indescribable if caught in somewhat compromising—

"Right," Dean says, interrupting Seamus' train of thought. He pushes himself off the wall and takes a sneak peak down the corridor. "They're gone. Let's go." And with a quick look at his watch, he groans. "And that's made us late for Transfiguration. Fucking hell."

But even when they stumble into class, cowering under Professor McGonagall's glare, Seamus can't bring himself to care. Nor can he bring himself to pay attention. In fact, his thoughts remain entirely preoccupied for the rest of the day. And, to be honest, for a good portion of the night too.