Lucius was bored. Plain and simple. The pureblooded aristocrat was bored waiting hand and foot at their Dark Lord's bidding- which was whenever convenient to their hissing master's pleasure- or nursing his favourite wine and replaying certain images in his head while waiting to wait on the Dark Lord. It was a never-ending circle of Fate's cruel joke on him; more often than not replying to the Dark Lord breathy and flushed under his silver mask.

He missed his little green-eyed minx and often felt the pull to go back into the same room and just see if any trace of the raven-haired saviour could be picked up in the air. And he had taken to mapping out the places he had visited with the Weasleys over the past summers and the likely places he would be in the future just to alleviate some of the pain. It was torture. It was madness. It was undignified. But he was losing care over his old ideals, especially the ones that kept him tied to the Dark Lord and his rather cold marriage.

He sighed and kneaded his forehead, a habit that Severus taught him over the years to deal with such quandaries, as he leaned over his elegant white balcony and stared at his impecable garden. Even the colours and scents of all the flowers, the rare and the unique or even just plain pretties, all flowed together that was pleasant and calming to the senses without any dissonance. He took a deep inhale and blinked his icy-blue, almost grey, eyes deep in thought. To a Malfoy, a true one, family was the most important thing. One must always look after it and care for it before the needs of an individual which meant being fabulously rich, having varied contacts in every way and owning only the best in everything so that family could live peacefully even if it meant having some personal costs. While he didn't love Narcissa with his heart, he loved her with his Malfoy mind and she lived comfortably in the very least. If she had any secret lovers, she was more than discreet and he had not even detected a ghost of a rumour, but for him to take a lover- especially a male lover- it would be a betrayal of true Malfoy values and not just a simple treachery to his wife.

Lucius took a sip of his dark burgandy alcohol, needing its dry heaviness more than ever and lazily watched his son fly with great practiced skill on his top-notch broom recently bought as an early gift for his birthday. His son was very talented, naturally gifted, and yet, Potter was still better.

Harry Potter. Nuisance of his life, declared arch-nemesis of his son's and complete bane to the Dark Lord's. His thoughts always seemed to return back to small teen despite the complete opposite track they could be and were on and worse it was when he remembered the way his body felt flush against his during their activities in the Department of Mysteries.

Lucius hissed, feeling his drink work through his body and heat up his face. It was his seventh today already and he was starting to reach his limit. He had no desire to become drunk and even more disgraceful if there wasn't a certain someone to share a lapse of judgement with to give a pro to the debate. He scowled at his own mind and wished things were simple again like when he was Draco's age. Ignorant of the Dark Mark, eager to prove himself to his father and no wife to be tied down to as he understood the importance of his brief independence. Just as his father and father's father had done, he would wait until Draco was of age before the responsibilites of being a true Malfoy started to come into play allowing him to sow any wild oats he might have the desire to plant.

He watched his son dismount and gracefully land on his feet. He was so much like himself, but one could easily see the Narcissa in him. His face looked like it would never fully drop her rounded features instead of his angular ones and his son's hair was a bit more golden than his platinum blonde hair, just like Cissa's. But the way he talked and moved, that was purely Lucius. He smiled faintly. From what he knew of James Potter, being a few years older than him, Harry was a remarkable copy as well. But definitely had his mother's eyes and instincts and-

'What am I thinking?' He scowled more fiercly now. 'This is not acceptable.' His eyes glinted as the wards alerted him to Draco's request to visit him and a devious plan took hold in his mind.

He took his son into his office room and sat behind his desk of polished white ash tree wood. It was simple and elegant and pure, uncluttered with only a crystal paperweight and a few folders laid out to look nice. His chair matched with a high back intended to make himself look even more intimidating. Even after all these years, it still made Draco shudder when Lucius curled his long fingers possessively over the arm of his chair and leaned up against the painfully straight back without a sign of discomfort; in fact, he oozed smugness and arrogance. "Yes, my son?" he began in his rumbling voice.

Draco appeared to forget what he came here at first. "Father, my birthday is coming soon. Have any plans been made (1)?" he spoke simply after a cough. Lucius smirked fondly, summoning a house-elf to bring him more wine. The Italian Pinot Grigio he bought should be ripe enough now.

"No, of course not," he replied, swirling the wine that popped into his hand before sipping it. "Your mother takes care of the balls and social gatherings, you know that,"

Draco seemed hesitant to breath. "I meant, Father, have you made any plans?"

Lucius took his time to savor the taste of his wine; this one was white, yes, when he usually preferred the darker colours, but it held the same dryness he looked for in all of his collections. He looked over the rim of his glass. "Your presents from me shall be mine own and will remain a surprise for the foreseeable future," he said with a grim smile. If anyone should have access to this memory, he could not seem as if he was doubting the Dark Lord despite the pain it caused his son. "I have other matters to discuss with you. What do you know of Harry Potter?"

Draco gave him a suspicious glance. "I'm sure the Dark Lord knows enough about him," he muttered.

"Ah, but you can never know too much. Out of all my contacts, Draco, I am certain you know the most. After all, you went to school with him for five years," Draco preened under the implied compliment and ranted for the next hour with 'bloody Potter' in every other sentence. He was amazed at the level of immaturity that his son showed for continuing his hatred against the student, more so in that he even remembered some of the details he spoke of. Though, some of those details he learned proved invaluable. He smirked as he sipped his last glass for the day as his son finished his long tale. Potter, it seemed, would share his taste for dry wine based on his actions and personality so far.

Still, the brewing desire to have his minx was not sated even by this long revelation and he downed his glass as soon as Draco left. 'I must see him,' he thought resigned. 'The only way to soothe this horrid wont is to give in a measure of wont.' He knew the little brat's birthday was July 31st, but there was no way he could wait that long. His smirk returned; 'I suppose it's just my luck a certain contact of mine reported that Dumbledore will make a special visit to a certain special person'.

He had to wait, anxiously though he would never admit it, for his son's party to roll around even closer. He started counting once it was down to four days and, a tad fearfully, noting that he hadn't been called for weeks even for the most mundane things like a check-up. If he wasn't in such a doubting position of his current alliances, he would scoff at the paranoid-like behaviour the Dark Lord was displaying. 'Of course, we all know he is a sadistic bastard. He just might be toying with me.' But the fact that his master knew something, however marginal, about his plans made Lucius ever more nervous.

He downed his small glass in an undignified hurry; a meagre amount would not affect any important skills like motor functions or Occulemency, but it would still have a tingly effect on his nerves. It was a hour to eight, the start of the grand ball for his son's sixteenth birthday. Muggles gave that date great importance, not that he respected Muggle customs or that any birthday was to be celebrated with less importance than another. No, Narcissa just always planned grand things for his son.

The long awaited sign finally started, his left arm burned with a great intensity. Lucius eagerly answered the call, practically already in a bow once he apparated to the destined site. "My Lord," he greeted warmly because of his intimate standing, but with a touch of humble servitude. He noticed, upon standing, that it was a call just for his Death Eaters that had children of age to be initiated and he was the only without his son present.

"Lucius," the Dark Lord spoke, a sharp note clear to his voice. "I was planning on meeting that precious son of yours. I had not realised that I would need to send an invitation,"

"My Lord," Lucius began, knowing that bluntness would be the best to curb his master's anger. "If I may, I would like to postpone my son's Marking. As head of the hierarchy in the Slytherin House, he would be targeted for being Dark. If he was seen with a Mark it would give Dumbledore the right to search through the dorms and effectively ruin all of your great plans and expose nearly all of your newly initiated members." He explained hastily, knowing that there was plenty of holes that could rip right through his alibi, but most of his effort was focused on his mind shields.

The Dark Lord scowled at him. "Crucio," he muttered lazily and Lucius yelped as his nerves lit on fire. He stubbornly stood against this attack, biting his tongue to silence any undignified screams and screwing his shields even tighter as he felt the Dark Lord attempt to invade his mind gently. His body felt ice-cold at the ghastly probing but his desperate work was not so easily undone. The curse was lifted and Lucius gasped in relief, clutching his stomach and taking a step back while his body shook still.

"You surprise me yet, Malfoy," he hissed, sitting even straighter upon his throne. What exactly he was referencing to, Lucius could not identify. "Tell me, how exactly did you manage to escape from your failed mission?"

Lucius winced, taking a few breaths to gain control of his body again and spat out the blood in his mouth. He was lucky his tongue was still intact. "You see, my Lord, Potter, the clumsy brat, had dropped the orb containing the prophecy so I began to duel him in an attempt to capture him and bring him to you. There is no doubt of my loyalty to you." Sweet-talking excused nothing but it did help smooth things over. He fell to his knees in a purposeful motion that he knew his lord saw for all its worth.

"We somehow were separated from the rest and led into a corridor full of many rooms; the one we managed to get pulled into locked magically against us and made our wands useless. The air was suffocating and subtle other magics were leaking into our bodies by the simple act of breathing. Those magics clouded our judgement and make viewing the memory in a pensieve blurry; all that I remember is being forced to feel emotions I had never wanted nor desired," he put a sneer on his face before he continued. "Kindness, sympathy, wanting to be nice for the sake of being nice among other things. Someone finally opened the door from the outside, one of the pathetic Weasley blood-traitors' clutch, and the stupid Potter brat must have fallen prey to the Room's magics since he insisted that I be let off scot-free,"

He waited for the Dark Lord to respond, keeping his head low and definitely out of eye contact as he reviewed the real memories to himself with a suppressed shudder. So he twisted the truth of the events some and didn't tell the whole of the truth, but some of it was his real hypothesized conclusion. The Room had a sentient magic of its own and forced Lucius to discover his latent desires of lust for another male and that was it. He also deduced that the magic still remained in his body and was the cause for his near mad compulsion to see Potter again. It was the only thing that made sense after being easily cold for decades and years before upon seeing and meeting the raven-haired teen.

His mouth went dry and he briefly wondered if the Dark Lord didn't need to have eye-contact to review memories. But he hadn't felt even the tiniest of tendrils poking around in his mind and obliterated that notion quickly. "My Lord...?" he ventured cautiously, taking his chances and glancing up at his master.

"You have been...very enlightening on the subject, my faithful Lucius. I think I shall grant you a leave of six months for your son, that should stump Albus enough. He hates when his plans to counter my "predictability" are ruined," Lucius sighed quietly to himself. "But, you have failed me, and for that, you must be punished. Crucio," Part of his punishment meant than he was unable to silence himself through physical or magical means he discovered. He was forced to scream himself hoarse to his Dark Lord's pleasure and his intense pain. His nerves burst and his insides felt like they were on fire for a whole forty two minutes. He only hoped that Draco would understand the significance of what Lucius gave him in time.

After being dismissed back home, Lucius collapsed to the floor of his second, more secluded and off-limits, office and lay there, gasping with his hand to his chest. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing. Inhaling the good, his home, his family, safety and exhaling the bad, his pain, his fear, worry. Breath in Potter, breath out Potter.

His thoughts always returned to Potter lately. For the first time, in a very long time, he allowed himself to laugh. He laughed until he could have sworn that his sides ripped and began to bleed all over his nice carpet. Unicorn hair and albino phoenix feathers. Very rare and very, very hard to clean. And for another first, he couldn't care less. He had lied to the Dark Lord, for Potter no less, and he had gotten away alive.