"So, it's done then?"
Draco actually thought that suppressing the instinctive wince at being caught out mere seconds after he stepped from his own fireplace was an accomplishment on his part. She had been waiting, that much was made obvious by the half empty wine glass in her hand, and the fact that though he had emerged in the foyer fireplace, there was a chair and small side table a few feet away that was never normally present. He was, however, beginning to wish he could find out where she got her information. It was uncanny. There was no point in being evasive so he merely nodded.
"It is."
"And I trust there will be no legal repercussions, at least none traceable to us?"
"It was done perfectly legally according to the old chartered blood laws, there is nothing the Ministry can do, even if they were foolish enough to try, and even Shackelbolt is not that much of a convenient idiot."
"Well, that's one less thing, isn't it? I can't say I'm sorry, he's an equally unpleasant bastard dead as he was alive. It was a bit startling to hear him sneering blood purity nonsense at me in the study as I was finishing some owl correspondence, but his insults seem to hold far less of my attention now that he's only oil, canvas and enchantment."
The portrait, of course. Should have burned the bloody thing…well, perhaps not that, it could be useful after all, but at least stuck it in some far corner of the uppermost attics.
"I think I should speak to him, would you care to accompany me? It should be amusing, at the least. I intend to announce my intention to make you Lady Malfoy." She smirked, and he marveled again at how natural the Malfoy smirk looked on her. He wasn't sure if she'd picked the habit up from Severus all those years ago or from himself more recently, but he found it utterly charming.
The expression on Lucius painted visage was indeed satisfying as they entered the study arm in arm. He opened his mouth, doubtless to spew some horrid vitriol, then paused, staring at the tattoo work down his sons wrist.
"Great Merlin, Draco, what is that on your arm? And why did you bring a filthy mudblood into the family home? Are you mad? Where is Cissa? Is the war finally won? Is this filth your prize?"
"Oh my, this portrait must have been painted quite some time ago," Hermione mused. "I'd heard that sometimes memories acquired between portrait date and death date are lost when the portrait activates, but I've never seen it happen."
"Answer me, I demand it!" Draco finally looked up at his father, ignoring the mans gasp.
"I killed you, father, and long past time, too." The casual announcement seemed to catch the portrait off guard, then he smiled.
"Ah, so it's that way then. I can see by your face that quite a number of years has passed. Did you grow weary of waiting for me to pass the reins of the family holdings along to you and take matters into your own hands? Bravo! You have become a true Malfoy!"
"While true in part, there are a few vital missing facts, father. The first of which is, you lost the war. Potter killed that maniacal Dark Lord of yours, and good riddance. It's all been over for a decade now. And yes, I did need to inherit. More than that I simply needed you dead before you tried to kill me again. Oddly, you were rather upset at the announcement that I intended to make a Mugglborn the next Lady Malfoy. It all went pear shaped on you father, really." He explained in summary, watching Lucius face change colors in varying stages of fury.
"So, finally I claimed the right of Custos Morem and killed you this afternoon." He led Hermione to the door then paused again. "And father, I killed you with a Muggle weapon. You never saw it coming." They shut the door on the impotent howls of rage.