Some TM!Lucius stuff
I finally got off my butt and answered another theatrical_muse challenge. This one was about teaching children values... oh the irony!
All gen, though there is some Snape/Lucius implied. Unbeta'd and even unlooked-over before posting. Everyone went to bed early on me tonight. ;-)
On respect for others, and compassion toward those less fortunate than ourselves
Draco was three years old when I took him to Knockturn Alley for the first time.
The streets were wet from the morning's rain, and our progress was slow as Draco darted from puddle to puddle, soaking the hem of his robes. His feet were still small, but he nonetheless managed to send up impressively large fountains of spray each time he stomped in one, spattering mud on more than one disgruntled passerby.
"Oi!" shouted a squat, horse-faced witch as Draco sped past, knocking her market basket out of her arms. "You ought to take a strap to that little brat!" she said, glaring at me as she swiped at the dark stains Draco's flight had left on her skirts. "Letting him run wild that way --"
"Hold your tongue, madam," I snapped, hefting my cane so my wand was within reach. "I certainly do not need parenting advice from the likes of you." I stalked past her before she could reply, and she picked up her basket and strode away, muttering under her breath.
I caught up with Draco at Borgin and Burkes. The boy was uncharacteristically still as I approached, his head cocked to one side as he studied what looked like a mound of dirty cloth on the cobblestones in front of the shop. To my surprise, the mound gave a sudden twitch, and a moment later a dirty face appeared at the top of it, red eyes blinking stupidly in the bright morning sunlight. Draco froze as the man slowly dragged himself up off the ground and into a sitting position, his shoulders shaking with a violent fit of coughing. He glanced up at me as I stepped into place behind Draco, and raised one filthy hand.
"Please sir, can ye spare a few sickles?" His voice was gravel-rough, and his rheumy eyes grew shiny as he lifted his hand still higher. "Just enough so's I can get something hot ter eat. Anythin' at all. P-please?"
The stench of his wet clothes and unwashed body was appalling, and I could feel my lip curling with disgust. Draco took a single tentative step toward the man, whose tears were now cutting tracks through the muck caked on his cheeks, and raised his own small hand as though to grasp the beggar's.
"No, Draco!" I shouted, swooping down to snatch the child up. There was no question that I would give this man so much as a knut. There never had been. "Dirty," I said, turning on my heel and walking quickly down the street. Draco struggled in my arms for only a moment, then tucked his head against my shoulder and didn't look back.
***
On taking responsibility for your actions, and being willing to stand up for what you believe in
When Draco was seven, Walden spent an evening with us at the manor.
"I need a favor, Lucius," he said, and proceeded to describe his troubles with his superiors at the Ministry. Walden was an old friend, and I was glad to help. I promised to intercede with the Minister on his behalf.
Our business concluded, I asked him to stay for dinner. The evening was a pleasant one, filled with laughter and the finest food my house could offer, and by the time the plates were cleared and the brandy appeared, we were both in high spirits. Draco clambered into my lap and begged for a taste from my snifter, and I obliged him over the glare of disapproval Narcissa shot my way.
"He's a fine lad," Walden said, smiling at Draco. His cheeks were already showing spots of red from the drink.
"He'll do," I said fondly, bouncing Draco on my knee until he giggled with delight.
"Aye, that he will." Walden took a long draught of his brandy and set the empty glass down in front of him. "Lucky we're here to see him grow up, eh? It could have gone very differently, back when, had we not been able to talk our way out of that mess with the Ministry."
"What mess?" Draco asked, a curious tone in his voice. "Were you in some kind of trouble, Father?"
Walden leaned in close to the boy with a boozy smile. "Your father and I both were, Draco. Could very easily have spent the last six years in Azkaban, we could have, if your father hadn't been able to think quickly on his feet."
"Walden, I don't think this is an appropriate subject to be discussing at the dinner table," Narcissa snapped, but I silenced her with a curt wave.
Draco turned a wide-eyed look in my direction. "What happened, Father?"
I smiled at Walden over Draco's head as I slid my fingers around the bulb of my snifter. "It's rather a long story, Draco," I said, swirling the amber liquid to release its fumes. "I'll tell you all about it when you're older. Suffice it to say, I was nearly caught in a bit of mischief and I had to... talk my way out of it."
Walden snorted. "'A bit of mischief.' That's rich, Lucius. Rich indeed."
"Yes," I said dryly. "Well, no point in sacrificing oneself to one's ideals when the cause no longer exists, is there."
"None at all." Walden slapped his hand on the table and let out a hearty laugh, then reached for the bottle of brandy.
"Imagine those fools," I said quietly, "those bloody fools, the Lestranges, refusing to recant when they'd been caught. Imagine allowing yourself to be locked away in Azkaban for the rest of your life, rather than renounce your faith to a dead man." I shook my head in a mock-sadness, then raised my glass to Walden with a smile. "To freedom!" I said, clinking our snifters together.
"To freedom!" he echoed, winking at Draco before draining his glass once again.
***
On the value of money, and working hard to get what you want out of life
When Draco was twelve, I finally got tired of his constant whinging about not being chosen to play for the Slytherin quidditch team.
"They bent the rules for Potter, Father," he reminded me no less than a dozen times the summer after his first year. "Can't you make them let me play, too? What good is being a school governor if you can't --"
"That's enough, Draco," I snapped. "I don't want to hear another word about it." But I knew I would never hear the end of it unless I did something. It was a trick the boy had learned from his mother. It was a matter of self-defense, really, to contact Severus a week before term started, just to shut the boy up.
"What will it take to get Draco on the team, Severus?" I said wearily, after the preliminary pleasantries had been exchanged.
Severus's sallow face looked even more sickly than usual in the greenish glow of the flames. "A miracle," he replied with a sour smile. "Slytherin already has quite a competent Seeker, Lucius. I see no reason why I should remove Higgs simply because Draco has an itch to show off against Potter. Draco will simply have to wait and try out with the others when the Seeker position becomes available again."
I immediately recognized his statement for the ploy that it was; the price tag for obtaining Draco's desire was getting larger with every passing word. "Come now, Severus," I said with a sly smile of my own. "We both know miracles happen every day. They just require a bit of encouragement. There must be something I can do to persuade you. Perhaps there's something you require for your classroom? Or for yourself? Something of a more... personal nature?"
Severus chuckled softly, and a spark of lust sent my heart skittering. "Nothing so complicated as that," he said, "though I will certainly keep that offer in mind. No, I'm afraid I can't risk allowing Draco on the team just now, not with Potter unfortunately proving himself so adept." Severus's lips twitched into an ugly sneer. "I won't risk losing the Quidditch Cup to Minerva McGonagall on the uncertain performance of a new player, especially not when Potter is riding a Nimbus 2000. Of course, if my team had brooms of equal or better caliber, the situation might be different..." His voice trailed off as he fixed me with a bland expression that, had I not known him as well as I did, might have passed for innocence.
I considered this for a moment. Broomsticks. That was a surprise. Seven new broomsticks would certainly cost a fair amount, but still... my estimation of Severus dropped ever so slightly. Of all the things he could have asked for, he chose a new set of broomsticks. Ah well. To restore peace in my home and stop Draco's constant complaints, it would have been cheap at twice the price.
"Done, Severus," I said. "I'll make arrangements to have them delivered to Hogwarts before the start of term."
"Excellent. Oh, and Lucius? I've changed my mind. I believe I will take you up on your other offer, as well."
I felt my lips quiver from a smile to a leer. "Of course, Severus. Whenever you're ready."
With a sudden whoosh the green flames danced higher, and a moment later Severus stepped through the fire.
All gen, though there is some Snape/Lucius implied. Unbeta'd and even unlooked-over before posting. Everyone went to bed early on me tonight. ;-)
On respect for others, and compassion toward those less fortunate than ourselves
Draco was three years old when I took him to Knockturn Alley for the first time.
The streets were wet from the morning's rain, and our progress was slow as Draco darted from puddle to puddle, soaking the hem of his robes. His feet were still small, but he nonetheless managed to send up impressively large fountains of spray each time he stomped in one, spattering mud on more than one disgruntled passerby.
"Oi!" shouted a squat, horse-faced witch as Draco sped past, knocking her market basket out of her arms. "You ought to take a strap to that little brat!" she said, glaring at me as she swiped at the dark stains Draco's flight had left on her skirts. "Letting him run wild that way --"
"Hold your tongue, madam," I snapped, hefting my cane so my wand was within reach. "I certainly do not need parenting advice from the likes of you." I stalked past her before she could reply, and she picked up her basket and strode away, muttering under her breath.
I caught up with Draco at Borgin and Burkes. The boy was uncharacteristically still as I approached, his head cocked to one side as he studied what looked like a mound of dirty cloth on the cobblestones in front of the shop. To my surprise, the mound gave a sudden twitch, and a moment later a dirty face appeared at the top of it, red eyes blinking stupidly in the bright morning sunlight. Draco froze as the man slowly dragged himself up off the ground and into a sitting position, his shoulders shaking with a violent fit of coughing. He glanced up at me as I stepped into place behind Draco, and raised one filthy hand.
"Please sir, can ye spare a few sickles?" His voice was gravel-rough, and his rheumy eyes grew shiny as he lifted his hand still higher. "Just enough so's I can get something hot ter eat. Anythin' at all. P-please?"
The stench of his wet clothes and unwashed body was appalling, and I could feel my lip curling with disgust. Draco took a single tentative step toward the man, whose tears were now cutting tracks through the muck caked on his cheeks, and raised his own small hand as though to grasp the beggar's.
"No, Draco!" I shouted, swooping down to snatch the child up. There was no question that I would give this man so much as a knut. There never had been. "Dirty," I said, turning on my heel and walking quickly down the street. Draco struggled in my arms for only a moment, then tucked his head against my shoulder and didn't look back.
***
On taking responsibility for your actions, and being willing to stand up for what you believe in
When Draco was seven, Walden spent an evening with us at the manor.
"I need a favor, Lucius," he said, and proceeded to describe his troubles with his superiors at the Ministry. Walden was an old friend, and I was glad to help. I promised to intercede with the Minister on his behalf.
Our business concluded, I asked him to stay for dinner. The evening was a pleasant one, filled with laughter and the finest food my house could offer, and by the time the plates were cleared and the brandy appeared, we were both in high spirits. Draco clambered into my lap and begged for a taste from my snifter, and I obliged him over the glare of disapproval Narcissa shot my way.
"He's a fine lad," Walden said, smiling at Draco. His cheeks were already showing spots of red from the drink.
"He'll do," I said fondly, bouncing Draco on my knee until he giggled with delight.
"Aye, that he will." Walden took a long draught of his brandy and set the empty glass down in front of him. "Lucky we're here to see him grow up, eh? It could have gone very differently, back when, had we not been able to talk our way out of that mess with the Ministry."
"What mess?" Draco asked, a curious tone in his voice. "Were you in some kind of trouble, Father?"
Walden leaned in close to the boy with a boozy smile. "Your father and I both were, Draco. Could very easily have spent the last six years in Azkaban, we could have, if your father hadn't been able to think quickly on his feet."
"Walden, I don't think this is an appropriate subject to be discussing at the dinner table," Narcissa snapped, but I silenced her with a curt wave.
Draco turned a wide-eyed look in my direction. "What happened, Father?"
I smiled at Walden over Draco's head as I slid my fingers around the bulb of my snifter. "It's rather a long story, Draco," I said, swirling the amber liquid to release its fumes. "I'll tell you all about it when you're older. Suffice it to say, I was nearly caught in a bit of mischief and I had to... talk my way out of it."
Walden snorted. "'A bit of mischief.' That's rich, Lucius. Rich indeed."
"Yes," I said dryly. "Well, no point in sacrificing oneself to one's ideals when the cause no longer exists, is there."
"None at all." Walden slapped his hand on the table and let out a hearty laugh, then reached for the bottle of brandy.
"Imagine those fools," I said quietly, "those bloody fools, the Lestranges, refusing to recant when they'd been caught. Imagine allowing yourself to be locked away in Azkaban for the rest of your life, rather than renounce your faith to a dead man." I shook my head in a mock-sadness, then raised my glass to Walden with a smile. "To freedom!" I said, clinking our snifters together.
"To freedom!" he echoed, winking at Draco before draining his glass once again.
***
On the value of money, and working hard to get what you want out of life
When Draco was twelve, I finally got tired of his constant whinging about not being chosen to play for the Slytherin quidditch team.
"They bent the rules for Potter, Father," he reminded me no less than a dozen times the summer after his first year. "Can't you make them let me play, too? What good is being a school governor if you can't --"
"That's enough, Draco," I snapped. "I don't want to hear another word about it." But I knew I would never hear the end of it unless I did something. It was a trick the boy had learned from his mother. It was a matter of self-defense, really, to contact Severus a week before term started, just to shut the boy up.
"What will it take to get Draco on the team, Severus?" I said wearily, after the preliminary pleasantries had been exchanged.
Severus's sallow face looked even more sickly than usual in the greenish glow of the flames. "A miracle," he replied with a sour smile. "Slytherin already has quite a competent Seeker, Lucius. I see no reason why I should remove Higgs simply because Draco has an itch to show off against Potter. Draco will simply have to wait and try out with the others when the Seeker position becomes available again."
I immediately recognized his statement for the ploy that it was; the price tag for obtaining Draco's desire was getting larger with every passing word. "Come now, Severus," I said with a sly smile of my own. "We both know miracles happen every day. They just require a bit of encouragement. There must be something I can do to persuade you. Perhaps there's something you require for your classroom? Or for yourself? Something of a more... personal nature?"
Severus chuckled softly, and a spark of lust sent my heart skittering. "Nothing so complicated as that," he said, "though I will certainly keep that offer in mind. No, I'm afraid I can't risk allowing Draco on the team just now, not with Potter unfortunately proving himself so adept." Severus's lips twitched into an ugly sneer. "I won't risk losing the Quidditch Cup to Minerva McGonagall on the uncertain performance of a new player, especially not when Potter is riding a Nimbus 2000. Of course, if my team had brooms of equal or better caliber, the situation might be different..." His voice trailed off as he fixed me with a bland expression that, had I not known him as well as I did, might have passed for innocence.
I considered this for a moment. Broomsticks. That was a surprise. Seven new broomsticks would certainly cost a fair amount, but still... my estimation of Severus dropped ever so slightly. Of all the things he could have asked for, he chose a new set of broomsticks. Ah well. To restore peace in my home and stop Draco's constant complaints, it would have been cheap at twice the price.
"Done, Severus," I said. "I'll make arrangements to have them delivered to Hogwarts before the start of term."
"Excellent. Oh, and Lucius? I've changed my mind. I believe I will take you up on your other offer, as well."
I felt my lips quiver from a smile to a leer. "Of course, Severus. Whenever you're ready."
With a sudden whoosh the green flames danced higher, and a moment later Severus stepped through the fire.