The corridor blurred in a haze of warm, flickering light and swirling darkness as Lucius slowly shuffled up the hallway, his arm held wide to brush his fingers along the wall to keep his equilibrium and sense of order. He was flush and sweating along his forehead and the back of his neck. He had long sense lost his cloak; half the buttons on his shirt were ripped off and left askew somewhere. Time was a tempest that kept churning in and out of focus and beyond his reach. Colors were bright and spastic and he almost thought he could hear them screaming in shades of red and brown and black as he wandered aimlessly up the hallway, but such sounds also could have been his own barking laughter and confusion.

He managed to find a staircase, but not trusting his legs, he turned around. Or at least he thought he had, as the next moment he realized he was falling down three steps before he caught himself on the railing with his arms. The wood was cool, and he watched the etching of the wood move in front of him, stretching out to the wall and up above him. He pressed his back against the steps and stared up, as the roof above him gave way and all he saw was as tumultuously churning grey sea.

Birds chirping in the early morning woke him. He squinted in the stark, dim light. He was frozen to the core. As he sat up, he realized he was in the Zabini's south garden, lying vertically over a thorny rose bush, which had ensnared the back of his shirt. He rolled over and unceremoniously fell backward into the dirt behind the hedge. He realized skull was shrieking, a splitting pain that began at the nape of his neck and ran all the way to the bridge of his nose and pulsated. His back and shoulders too felt twisted and marred with aching.

He managed to stand up, and then fell back again, covering himself in the rich textured soil.

"Malfoy?" a voice called to him.

Candra was half-dressed and unkempt, his cloak dragging on one shoulder. He was covered in dirt as well, so it appeared he had also spent the night in some hedgerow.

"Over here," Lucius groaned out, as he tried to lift himself up again.

Candra found him. His face swam closely to Lucius over the rose bush, and he shot his arm out to help him out of the garden. He yanked him over the large hedge and onto the garden stone walkway. In vain, Lucius attempted to brush the soil from his white shirt.

"I think we overdid it," Lucius remarked, "Perhaps I should not have quite so much to drink next time."

Curiously, Candra raised his eyebrows. "You don't remember, Malfoy? It wasn't the spirits."

"Obviously, if I had any control over myself last night, I would have found myself this morning in a bed," he replied darkly.

"Right, well," Candra replied, "It was your idea to smoke seer's sage—you plucked it right out of our ingredient cabinet and rolled it yourself."

Lucius furrowed his brow. "Seer's sage? You mean Salvia?"

Candra nodded. "Yes, you said it was hallucinogenic."

"Indeed it is," he replied thoughtfully, rubbing his thumb across his lower lip and unknowingly covering it in small, dry smears of dirt.

"I have to say," Candra said, "One of your finer ideas, mate. I'm starting to think you might actually be fun."

Lucius watched him trudge up the garden walk to the house. As Candra went inside, a window on the third floor opened. He watched Bellatrix Black scale her way down the side of the jutting small bits of stone to the ground, and then disappear toward the woods, which would take her home, her dark hair blowing back off her cloak.

He trudged toward the house and slipped in through the back door. Candra's family was in the breakfast room already, and he quickly averted down a side hall to avoid being seen by them. He went around a narrow back corridor the House Elves usually took until he thought he was safe from prying eyes, and then he exited and went up the main staircase.

After a long bath and fresh clothes, he left the guest room where he stayed and went to the lounge on the second floor where he found Candra, sitting on a sofa and listening to the referees during a Quidditch match.

"Have you read today's garbage?" Candra asked, sensing Lucius's presence rather than actually observing it, as he had come in silently.

"No," he replied.

Candra curled The Daily Prophet in his arm and raised it behind above his head. Lucius took the paper and uncurled it. Across the front page splashed the title: BOYS WILL BE BOYS, EVEN IF THEY ARE MURDERERS.

"Creative," Lucius replied with a heavy sigh as he dropped himself into a leather back chair.

BOYS WILL BE BOYS, EVEN IF THEY ARE MURDERERS

An Analysis by Wilhelmina Cuthbert

For so long, our community has prized itself on the strength and resilience of our young wizards and witches. We bring them up with integrity, curiosity, and courage with the hopes that they will become shiny instruments of goodness in our society. Hogwarts is the finest institution in the world. Wizards and witches of all types are permitted to study here, no matter what background or class they come from.

The Sacred Twenty-Eight, despite their overwhelming prejudice against non-purebloods and any others they believe below them, bring their children to Hogwarts! We are not shocked to find that most behavioral issues come from Sacred Twenty-Eight children, that most rivalries, bullying, and disruptive behavior comes from wealthy pureblood families of nobility. In fact, while the Sacred were lining their cloaks with galleons, the rest of the world was quite aware of their brutality all along. For a society, which wields so many decrees for their young, they have very little control over them.

It was not long ago that Lucius Malfoy, Theodore Nott, and Candra Zabini were found at the scene of a crime. The murder of Scarlett Greengrass shook the foundation of the Sacred Twenty-Eight community, exposing the depths of the brutality that goes on in their 'polite society'. No one else was in the vicinity. No others bore witness to the murder but the three pureblood young men, who were deeply inebriated after drinkingall night. There were no other witnesses! They were arrested and detained in the Ministry immediately on suspicion and yet, miraculously, they were not given Veritaserum that night. In fact, they were not submitted for questioning because of a loophole in the law (Cygnus Black, a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and Wizengamot Judge presented and voted to pass said law) which states that unmarried pureblood men cannot be questioned without their father's approval. The law goes further to state that the Ministry cannot apply Veritaserum on any pureblood gentlemen of any marital status without a chain of custody approval from the Minister himself.

What does this mean? It means that the rights of pureblood men are more valid than any other witch or wizard in England. Their homes cannot be searched, assets cannot be seized, and their innocence is default and any guilt is exonerated or kept secret. Pureblood men are presumed innocent even when faced with evidence against them.

The protection of three men, the only silent voices who could shed light on the tragedy that has fallen Scarlett Greengrass, is worth more than her life. Their rights and privilege are worth more than a mourning family who wants answers. Never forget that the law grants three suspects the right to a normal life when they could have been the ones to take Scarlett's. When you see them playing cards in pubs in Somerset with their friends, remember that the law grants them this right. The law has given Scarlett Greengrass nothing.

Remember that in terms of the law, boys will be boys in a pub in Knockturn Alley. Boys will be boys when a young girl has her throat savagely slit and is violently murdered in the night. Boys will be boys…even when they are murderers.

"This is excessively dramatic," Lucius said as he reached the last page, "My life has been in complete upheaval. I provided my statement. It is not my fault the public won't regard it as fact."

Candra was deeply immersed in the Quidditch game. He grunted in response to Lucius. The news regarding Scarlett Greengrass was infuriating. The case should have been solved already—neither of them had seen anything at all.

"It's just absurd," Lucius continued, "The idea that her life did not matter as much as our silence—of course it does. Nevertheless, we are innocent and she is dead, so I would rather say that despite the tragedy, my privacy is justifiably important. My ability to read the news without seeing my family and friends disgraced on it. My right to—"

"We're just scapegoats for politics, Malfoy," Candra interrupted, swiveling his body to face his. "Sooner you realize that, the less it will bother you. My father said so. He said Ms. Cuthbert reported on the law when it first passed. Said she has always hated men."

The depth of the journalist's hatred for men aside, the outrage spurred by the article was vicious. In the last few remaining weeks that Lucius stayed with Candra, Howlers were delivered so much and so often to their doorstep, that Mr. Zabini no longer accepted owls. They were instead routed to a shed outside with a silencing charm around it, where the Howlers could carry on well into the night.

It was afternoon, and the day before Lucius returned home, when the Lestrange brothers called upon the manor with Bellatrix and Narcissa Black. It was a cool spring day with no rain and weak, watery sunlight. Mrs. Zabini exiled her children to the garden so that she could have some semblance of peace and listen to her audio book club on the radio. Lucius was reading in one of the iron garden chairs while Candra was several yards away in the center of the garden with a stubby bat in his hand, which he occasionally swung about and hit a whistling Bludger back into the sky.

Candra's mother, who announced them, and then shuffled back inside to listen to the radio in the kitchen, let the guests through the back door into the garden. Narcissa and her sister were so opposite it was startling. Narcissa wore a soft muslin dress, which was wispy and white with pale embroidered flowers along the train and up the high empire waist of her dress. Her hair was braided down her shoulder, and wild flowers were neatly braided through the strands of her hair.

By comparison, Bellatrix wore black silk trousers and a velvet camisole in deep green. Her hair was loose and wild, and the black cloak swirled behind her in the breeze.

"Merlin's pants…"

Lucius heard Candra mutter, and whistle low as they approached them from the back steps. The Bludger whizzed through the air—Lucius heard rather than see it first and then it was visible—it crashed through a canopy of trees on the outlaying forest, spinning rapidly toward the new arrivals. It was so fast that no one could shout to alert them. Candra sprinted and dived forth, his bat held above his head. He struck the Bludger just in time to keep it from smashing into the two young women. The concussive force of the bat slammed the Bludger over the garden wall and out of sight again.

"My! What excitement!" Narcissa exclaimed, "You really are very talented, Mr. Zabini."

"Yes!" Bellatrix agreed, linking arms with her sister, "Quite the athlete and the hero, and looking dashing performing such a feat."

Her fiancé grimaced behind her and turned toward his brother. Lucius stood up from his seat and walked the short distance to the party. As he approached, Narcissa glanced away from Candra and her eyes lit up. Her smile turned wide.

"Mr. Malfoy," she greeted, dipping into a quick curtsey with her chin bowed down, her braid spilling down the front of her dress, "I had only just told my sister I hoped you were still visiting!"

He returned her gesture with a bow. Her thin spring gloves were embroidered with tiny etchings of vines and flowers to match her dress.

"Miss Black, you arrived just in time. Today is my last day," he remarked.

"What good fate runs among us," she said.

She slipped away from her sister's arms, folded hers around his, and began walking away from the group about the garden.

"So," she said with a sly smile, "Did you recover from your night of wantonness a few weeks back? I hope the hangover was not something dreadful."

Her voice was cheeky and teasing. Lucius drew a quiet and nervous breath.

"Hangovers of spirits can be cured quite easily, Miss Black," he said, "Hangovers of spirit cannot. I must admit, you left me very undone."

She turned her face up to him, laughing, and swatting at his shoulder with her free hand. But as he caught her eyes, he fell into them, and for a moment, he lived in her world, all sapphire and softness, all eagerness and confidence.

"I apologize, Mr. Malfoy, for causing your distress," she said, "It was not my intention to tease you."

But she pulled him closer to her. Her arms erupted in small goosebumps as the wind picked up. The passed an ancient tree in full bloom and covered in white blooms, which drifted through the air to the grass below.

"Are you cold, Miss Black?" Lucius asked, his hands immediately going to the clasp of his cloak. "Please, allow me."

They stopped along the garden path as Lucius swept the cloak off his shoulders and placed it around hers. He fastened the opal clasp at her throat and smoothed the cloak against the puffy muslin sleeves of her dress.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," she said.

He was poised to say something else, perhaps something clever, but Candra shouted at them to come back to the center of the garden. They returned, walking quickly back without conversation. As they reached the middle of the garden, they saw that Candra had a trunk full of Quidditch supplies and brooms fanned around.

"We're going to play Quidditch, so you lot get over here so I can sort you into teams," he said.

"Candra, there are hardly enough players," Lucius complained, "There are only four of us."

"Six," Narcissa corrected him, "There are six people here."

"Yes, but two of you are women," he replied.

Bellatrix tilted her head with a pinched expression, her dark eyes fastened not on Lucius, but on Narcissa, as if waiting for her response.

"I would wager I am twice the Quidditch player as you, Mr. Malfoy," Narcissa retorted, "And I am inclined to teach you how to play, if you would like."

Lucius tucked his hands into his pockets and shifted to look at her at his side. "By all means, Miss Black, I hold no affection for this sport."

"Very good!" she said, "It is settled then. I will play against you, and when I win, you will owe me a prize."

"Agreed," he said, a small smile flickering across his face.

Candra split them onto opposing teams. Since Narcissa wished to best him, she and Lucius were given the roles of Chasers. Bellatrix and Candra chose Beater positions. Rodolphus acted as Keeper. Rabastanian and one of Candra's brothers were playing as Seekers, though they could not coax the others to join them as Chasers.

Narcissa retired inside to borrow trousers to wear for the game and not ruin her dress. When she returned, she was dressed in a very similar fashion to her sister in black silk trousers, a white camisole, and Lucius's cloak around her shoulders.

Candra blew a whistle and the game began—the single goal was between the tops of two trees on the right side of the garden. Lucius won the coin toss, and so he took the Quaffle first. They kicked off their brooms and soared into the air well above the house. Lucius was already nervous, as he was quite afraid of heights, and Narcissa seemed confident in her athletic ability.

He was off—streaming through the sky on his broom with the Quaffle in hand, dodging Narcissa as she neared him. He tossed the ball through the goal and Rabastanian missed, then dove down to catch the ball for them.

He curved his broom to the side and drifted over to Narcissa.

"I thought you were going to teach me how to play, Miss Black?" he sneered.

"It's not very lady-like to humiliate you in the first round," she retorted.

She caught the Quaffle and dodged her sister as she came crashing through the middle of them, trying to hit a Bludger. By the time she was out of the way, Narcissa was gone.

She scored. Then she stole the Quaffle from him and scored again—and then again, and again, until Candra was screaming at him.

"HAVE YOU GONE BLIND?" he bellowed, "DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHERE THE GOAL IS, MALFOY?"

The next time Candra hit a Bludger, it crashed into Lucius's broom, and he was certain it was on purpose. As Lucius was swerving away from Narcissa, he saw Candra hit the Bludger toward Bellatrix. He heard a scream behind him, and Narcissa pulled back on her broom. He tossed the ball through and Rabastanian, pitying him, jerked his broom away from the ball to allow him to make points.

However, Bellatrix was lying on the grass below. Narcissa hardly waited to safely step off her broom and leaped from it. She dropped to her feet and pulled her wand from her pocket, her cloak streaming out behind her.

Lucius dropped to the ground and hurried over. Bellatrix's arm was broken, but with Narcissa's skillset as a Healer, she had mended it in no time. The game resumed, but Candra's aggression had become overwhelming. They were nearly all victims of his Bludgers—he slammed them toward Rabastanian several times, who narrowly avoided falling from his broom. He dismounted his younger brother entirely, who frantically leaped off the side to avoid the Bludger and plummeted into the grass below.

This too took Narcissa out of the game to check his injuries, and when he was discovered to be fine, she would resume the game. Within the hour, they were all sweating and angry, and on constant high alert from Candra's sweeping, dangerous arm.

After Bellatrix was hit in the shoulder again, Rodolphus loudly called the game and dropped to the ground. As Candra's feet touched the grass, Rodolphus stomped across the lawn toward him. He reared his arm back, punched Candra in the face, and then tackled him to the ground. The two were viciously fighting and snarling on the lawn until Narcissa hexed them apart.

Lucius pulled Candra away from Rodolphus. He could hardly lift him, as he was densely muscular and strong while Lucius was tall and slim. He managed to shoulder him onto a stone bench away from Lestrange. He was not as good as Narcissa, but he sealed Candra's busted lip and siphoned off the blood. The bruises would remain without a potion if he were to try and heal them. There was richly red blood encrusted under Candra's nails from clawing at Rodolphus. Candra's breathing was ragged and his face was contorted in rage. His eyes never left Rodolphus, as if waiting for an opportunity to fight.

"Did you kill Scarlet Greengrass?" Lucius asked him quietly.

"What?" Candra swiveled and looked at him with wide eyes. "Why the hell are you asking me that, Malfoy?"

"I…well—you just attacked someone for no reason," Lucius said.

Candra spat onto the ground and stood up. He slammed his shoulder into Lucius, shoved him aside, and walked up the stone pathway to the house. The back door shut with such a force the sound ricocheted off the low stone garden walls, and birds exploded from the tops of trees into the air.

Despite his repeated apologies, the Lestranges refused to stay any longer and left. After a hurried goodbye, Bellatrix and Narcissa departed after them to take care of their guests, leaving Lucius alone. Candra barricaded himself in the lounge, quite resolute to wallow.

That night he dreamed of her. Streams of blonde hair fell down her back and shoulders as her hips danced on top of him. Her breasts swelled each time he pressed himself inside her. She was warm, slick, and wet as he fucked her, and her moans couldn't be contained. Her mouth was delicious, and she uttered deplorable, foul things she wanted him to do to her.

She rode him hard and touched herself, cupping her breasts and pressing her fingers against herself until she climaxed on top of him. She pressed her lips to his wrist and nipped at his flesh, then held his hands above his head and pinned them in place while she rolled her hips. He begged her to make him come.

He woke suddenly, his heart beating rapidly in his chest and his shaft throbbing. One hand was above his head, clenching onto the headboard, and the other was tightly gripped around his erection. He was certain his own sounds had woken him. Feverishly, he touched himself to finish what the dream had started, imagining the sweet scent of her skin, her hair and her breasts. He imagined pressing himself to the hilt inside of her roughly, her nails dragging down his chest as she whimpered.

The orgasm was sudden and almost painful as he was so erect, and his entire body erupted in shutters. His moans were soft as he stroked himself until the pleasure stopped and he was spent. He only managed to clean himself up before he fell asleep again.

But he barely slept. The whole night, he writhed through the sheets deep in fantasy, imagining her naked on a broom, or her dress soaked through, her nipples hard and erect against the soft muslin. He watched her roughly kissing Rabastanian, her tongue sliding across his lips, and then the three of them were in his bed.

He woke once more, his arms strangling the extra pillow he had, his fingers clenched, waking just in time to climax with his hips pressed against the bed. He sighed and untensed, then slowly drifted off to some semblance of sleep.