Chapter Text
“And then Dumbledore gave Potter another 50 points and that should have been it but he gave that snivelling idiot Longbottom another 10 points. Longbottom! Whatever has he done to deserve another 10 points? The House Cup should have been ours!”
Narcissa suppressed a sigh. She loved her son, she genuinely did, but ever since he came home for the summer, he hadn’t stopped talking about that Potter boy, recounting each and every detail about the other boy’s daily doings. At every meal. Narcissa had started to let her mind slip as she nodded and smiled at the appropriate places.
Narcissa paid attention, though, when Lucius suddenly sat up straighter, eyes narrowing. As if something in Draco’s ramblings had caught his attention. He was obsessed with the Potter child as much as Draco, but even his eyes had began to glaze slightly during the past few meals they had shared whenever Draco opened his mouth.
Now, though, Lucius’s gaze was sharp, eyes slightly narrowed, which meant that he was plotting something. She could almost see the thought whirling behind those stormy gray eyes, mind going in a dozen directions at once, calculating, twisting and turning. It made him look like a wolf on the trail of its prey which made her in turn pay attention to Draco’s babbling, but he was now talking about Quidditch in detail, ranting about the fact that Potter had been accepted as Seeker. And Narcissa had to suppress a sigh.
She’d have to confront Lucius later on about what had caught his interest.
****
Lucius had heard rumors, whispers in the dark of the Dark Lord returning and he found himself slightly…ill at ease. If he were a lesser man, he might have called it fear, but he was a Malfoy and a Malfoy did not fear anything.
And yet…
Everyone knew that Lucius had quickly absconded after the Dark Lord’s demise and claimed to have been under the Imperius Curse. It was how he had managed to escape Azkaban. If the Dark Lord rose to power once more and heard of that he would not be pleased with Lucius. Not at all. And Lucius knew firsthand what the Dark Lord was capable of when he was displeased.
Lucius might be able to talk his way out of it. He could grovel, make up excuses, yet the mere thought of debasing himself like that, bowing before another once more after having walked free these past eleven years was…repulsing. He did not want to grovel and scrape and bow, and, given the fact that the Dark Lord had been defeated once by a mere child… Well. It made Lucius wonder how powerful the Dark Lord truly was. And how powerful said child was and—if what Draco had unwittingly observed of him was true—how Lucius might use this power for his own gain.
He looked up as the door to his study opened and Narcissa entered, closing the door softly behind her, eyes fixed on him.
He had been wondering whether she had picked up on what Draco had said or what he hadn’t said.
“What are you thinking about, Lucius?” Narcissa asked.
He met her gaze. “The Potter boy.”
She nodded for him to go on.
“Well, Draco said a few things that sounded like the boy was living with Muggle relatives. And if I interpret the signs correctly, they’re not the best sort of relatives to take care of a young wizarding child.” He could feel his smile sharpening. “What do you think would happen if a noble and powerful wizarding family was to take him in and give him a home? Save him from possibly abusive Muggles? And then teach the poor boy about the intricacies of our society? The intricacies of magic?”
She sat down in one of the arm chairs by the fireplace, eyes bright and intent. “I’m listening.”