Aristocrat (HP/SI)

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***

Lucius Malfoy's day had not gone well since the morning: Dill, the peacock named for his temper, had fallen ill....

The polished aristocrat Lucius tried not to show impatience. He and his charming and outwardly cold blonde spouse stood on the platform nine and three quarters waiting for his favourite and only son.

And now the moment had arrived - the smoking red steam train "Hogwarts Express" arrived at the platform.

Lucius and his wife showed haughty superiority, they looked down on the other wizards from above. Finally, their sweet Draco stepped out of the carriage. The boy's appearance immediately displeased Narcissa Malfoy. Draco looked droopy and paler than usual.

The Malfoy couple tried not to show emotion in public. A scowling Lucius picked up his son's suitcase and apparated back to his manor. Narcissa clutched her son tightly to her and apparated with him, following her husband.

When all the Malfoys were home, Narcissa couldn't stand it and asked:

- Draco, are you alright?

The boy sighed sadly, his shoulders slumped and his gaze fixed on the floor.

- Son, what's wrong? - Lucius asked coldly.

- It's that filthy Grosvenor and that nasty sixth Weasley and that nasty Potter! - Draco exclaimed shrilly.

Narcissa began to boil. She, like most mums, had had enough of the implication that someone had dared to offend her boy.

- What had they done?

Draco had kept it all to himself for too long. He sobbed. Tears spurted from his eyes. He began to gibber hysterically:

- They... They... They... They've got a nerve! First Potter chose the sixth Weasley and Grosvenor as his friends instead of being friends with me. Then all year, that filthy Grosvenor, that filthy, filthy mudblood, has been siphoning off money left and right. Dad, can you imagine, he paid Ravenclaw students over a hundred thousand galleons just to dabble in pencil lead and duct tape!

The amount of money Lucius' eyes went wide. He couldn't believe it.

- How much? - He asked, thinking he'd misheard.

- A hundred thousand.

- How much?! - Lucius' eyes bulged even more.

- A hundred thousand!

- Draco, maybe you imagined it and it was knats?

- No, Dad, galleons. A hundred morgan thousand galleons!!!

- Uh... - Lucius hovered and was in a state of prostration. - Draco, are you sure?

- Of course, Dad! The whole school was talking about it. They said that Grosvenor needed to turn a slate into a film, and he promised a hundred thousand for a way to make it. One day Ravenclaw students sat at breakfast with duct tape and argued about who would turn the slate into a film, it even got to the point of a fight, for which Professor McGonagall fined their faculty a hundred points. And at the end of the year, that creep-" Draco even choked with indignation. - He actually paid that money!

Lucius' eyes blurred. He barely stood on his feet and clutched at his heart, which skipped a beat for a moment. A thought flashed through his head:

"To think of it, a hundred thousand for some nonsense! One hundred morgan thousand galleons for turning a pencil lead!!! That's almost seven times our family's annual income. This Grosvenor is insane and incredibly rich."

Narcissa listened to her son with her eyes wide open. She resembled a beached fish: silently flapping her mouth and breathing heavily.The shocks didn't end there. Draco continued to complain:

- 'At the end of the school year, we decided to show those bastards their place...' the boy's voice became quite thin and his body throbbed with hysteria. - There were four of us... I thought Crabbe and Goyle were strong, and I brought Nott with me. And they... they...

- Who's "they," Dracusick? - Narcissa asked affectionately.

- Potter, Weasley and Grosvenor... They ignored us at first, as if we were nothing. And they looked like they were so much taller than us, like they were the centre of the earth... And then... Then...

- What, son? - Narcissa asked her crying son again.

- They beat us!

Lucius was angry. He asked:

- What about your wands? There were four of you, three of them. Didn't anyone think to use magic?

- Dad, we just didn't have time... Those creeps... They were moving so fast we couldn't keep up. They snatched our wands from us and then beat us up like some Muggles!

- Drakusik," Narcissa hugged her son in a burst of emotion and pulled him close to her, "how could that be? Didn't their teachers punish them?

- Not for that," Draco sobbed. - 'They beat us so badly it hurt so badly, but there wasn't a single mark left. We couldn't even prove there was a fight. And then...

The boy became violently hysterical. He started smearing tears on his cheeks. The mother tried to calm her son.

Lucius Malfoy clenched his fists with rage. He hissed angrily:

- 'And this is my son? Crying like a girl! You got into a fight yourself and then you dare to lose afterwards... Draco, you're a disgrace to our family name!

- Come on, Dad.

- What, "Come on Dad"? - Lucius gave the child an arrogant look. - You're going to be training this summer. I'll hire the best dueling wizards so that you can challenge your opponent to a magical duel and defeat him, instead of losing shamefully from Muggle blows.

- But..." Draco stretched tears down his cheeks. - Those three have got a lot of nerve! Ron, Harry and Richie... They stole my owl and did cruel experiments on it. And then they sicced the owl on me and it pooped me from head to toe. So much so that I had to throw my robe away.

- Was that before or after the fight? - Lucius asked dryly.

- After.

- Mm-hm... I see," the man said.

- Lucius, they're hurting our son! - Narcissa declared. - Do something.

- Okay, I'll try..." a heavy sigh escaped from Lucius' chest. - But Potter and Grosvenor will be hard to get close to... Especially the latter. If the boy is capable of spending our seven years' income on utter rubbish....

- Dad, but he's a mudblood! - Draco exclaimed.

- Um... - a wry smile crept onto Lucius' face, which he tried to hide his embarrassment with. - Draco, I hope you're smart enough not to talk about this in public.

- But why?

- Son, you see," Lucius covered his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts, "Grosvenor may be a mudblood, but he's insanely rich and he's also an earl and heir to the Duke. Besides, he has a lot of British wizards working for him. So he can safely declare that he is at least a half-blood, and everyone will believe him unconditionally. And anyone who doubts it will at least be cursed. After that many curses, I'm afraid you'll be impossible for us to recover from.

***

Lucius Malfoy sat in a wicker rattan chair, drinking Ogden whiskey non-stop. The view from the carved arbour in the garden did not please the Baron's eyes at all. He was annoyed by the bushes and trees, pissed off by the white peacocks he was proud of. Lucius was pissed off by absolutely everything.

Narcissa Malfoy approached her spouse. Sighing heavily, she asked:

- Drinking?

- Drinking.

- Darling, don't be upset. You couldn't win the race for the Minister's chair, so you'll try again.

- It won't work," Lucius shook his head from side to side. - No, Narsi, can you imagine, Bagnold got eighty-three out of one hundred and thirty-seven per cent of the votes!

- How is that possible! - Narcissa's eyebrows shot up in amazement.

- Imagine, it turns out it is," Lucius was frowning, his skin a pale grey. - One hundred and thirty-seven per cent of those who voted!!! And you know what I managed to find out?

- What is it?

- It's all that boy Grosvenor's fault! - Lucius said with anger, as if spitting it out. - At first, Fudge became violently ill with an incurable disease. I learnt from Fudge himself that he had previously tried to arrest Grosvenor, and the result was that Fudge was no longer Minister, and the boy was free.

- Lucius, but how could a child do something like that? - Narcissa wondered.

- It's not a child," Lucius hissed angrily. - 'Oh, no... It's a creature of hell! Not only that, but I've learnt from wizards I know that this child, as you say, has managed to push through a law in the International Confederation of Mages to relax the statute of secrecy. If you knew the sums involved...

- How much? - Narcissa was quite curious.

- According to rough estimates, this puppy spent at least three million galleons to pass the necessary law!

Narcissa Malfoy began to resemble an antique monument set up by a designer in the garden. Pale as marble, skin as pale as marble, motionless, with an expression of inordinate amazement on her face. She even forgot to breathe. It was only when air became scarce that the woman opened her mouth and began to catch precious oxygen.

- HOW MUCH?!

- THREE FUCKING MILLION! - exclaimed the spouse loudly. - It took my ancestors four hundred years of saving every knat to amass such a fortune, and this-" the man began to choke with indignation. - This...

Lucius collapsed in his chair, as if he had been drained of all air at once.

- No, dear," he shook his head negatively. - No, I can't be Minister with such a rival. And if I do... I'd better not. Fudge's example has made it clear to anyone with a brain that this little badger is not to be crossed. I don't want you to lose your husband and I don't want Draco to lose his father.

- Oh!" Narcissa's chest was heaving with excitement. - Merlin almighty! If this boy is really that dangerous, maybe there is some way to put him in his place?

- 'There is,' Lucius looked very sad as he answered. - But I've learnt from an auror I know that if you lay a finger on that little scoundrel, we'd better dig our own graves. Merlin willing, if I can throw it all away and run away to another country. Grosvenor's like a big pile of poisonous dung with a crust on it. It doesn't stink as long as you don't touch it, but if you peel off the crust, the fumes will reach everyone around you.

- But, Lucius, we have to do something. That bastard hurt our son!

- I'm thinking about it..." Lucius said slowly. - I think... I have an idea. We can't touch Grosvenor himself, but we can do it through his closest supporters.

- Close supporters? - Narcissa looked questioningly at her husband.

- Weasley! - Lucius spat out contemptuously. - Those red-haired, vile Weasleys! I will have my revenge for sure!