What do you still have from when you were young?
He knew his son was aware of the Mark. For Draco’s entire life Lucius had carried it, even if it had faded by time and was well hid behind shirt sleeves and coats. Lucius never showed his forearms, not even in the privacy of his own home, but the presence had always been there. Lucius Malfoy, for his part, had never seemed ashamed of it. He had fought in the war, but he wasn’t an Auror. He carried himself with the grace of a defeated general, or if his manners in public were any indication, a patient one.
Most of England seemed to be aware of an uneasy peace. They ignored the unsettling mood when they could, and Lucius seemed to sense that distrust and fear, he preyed on it. So many times had Draco caught strangers’ quick glances at Lucius with fear in their eyes, unsure if he had completely forsaken mask and cloak and unwilling to risk crossing him if he hadn’t.
The Mark was a sign of honor; something to show what he was willing to do to achieve his ends.
Draco brought attention to it once and only once. He was seven and sitting on the floor watching his father tap some tuneless lullaby out of the piano keys. Lucius was trying to write a song even though he never called it that; he usually said it was wasting hours and that time was reserved only for Draco as if he didn’t trust anyone else to get that close to him in those moments.
Draco had caught the sight of the snake peering from Lucius’ cuff, and because he was young or curious and his father had never denied him anything; he rose and took Lucius’ arm into his hands. It only lasted a few seconds all told, Lucius smiled at his son’s attention without realizing the cause and when he did; he yanked his arm back as if he had been burned.
Draco watched in silence, unsure how he had offended his father, as Lucius seemed to regard the Mark and then on straightening his cuff, his father rose from the piano and disappeared into his study.
It was a Mark of honor, Draco knew, but never before had he understood the duplicity of such things and whatever questions buzzed in the younger Malfoy’s brains- he seemed to know- instinctively- that Lucius wouldn’t answer. Or couldn’t.
Lucius Malfoy
Harry Potter
401
Most of England seemed to be aware of an uneasy peace. They ignored the unsettling mood when they could, and Lucius seemed to sense that distrust and fear, he preyed on it. So many times had Draco caught strangers’ quick glances at Lucius with fear in their eyes, unsure if he had completely forsaken mask and cloak and unwilling to risk crossing him if he hadn’t.
The Mark was a sign of honor; something to show what he was willing to do to achieve his ends.
Draco brought attention to it once and only once. He was seven and sitting on the floor watching his father tap some tuneless lullaby out of the piano keys. Lucius was trying to write a song even though he never called it that; he usually said it was wasting hours and that time was reserved only for Draco as if he didn’t trust anyone else to get that close to him in those moments.
Draco had caught the sight of the snake peering from Lucius’ cuff, and because he was young or curious and his father had never denied him anything; he rose and took Lucius’ arm into his hands. It only lasted a few seconds all told, Lucius smiled at his son’s attention without realizing the cause and when he did; he yanked his arm back as if he had been burned.
Draco watched in silence, unsure how he had offended his father, as Lucius seemed to regard the Mark and then on straightening his cuff, his father rose from the piano and disappeared into his study.
It was a Mark of honor, Draco knew, but never before had he understood the duplicity of such things and whatever questions buzzed in the younger Malfoy’s brains- he seemed to know- instinctively- that Lucius wouldn’t answer. Or couldn’t.
Lucius Malfoy
Harry Potter
401