Lucius Malfoy strode haughtily through the halls of Hogwarts, robes billowing as students scurried respectfully out of his path, eyes averted. He was surprised, given his current position and rather chequered history of allegiance, that he had so easily gained access to the castle. In fact it had required no more than a handful of Floo powder and the correct set of directions: the Great Hall. He felt somewhat disappointed that an elaborate web of deception hadn’t been required, nor the careful application of his political leverage, or even a subtle dark curse or two. Perhaps if the Dark Lord hadn’t been so obsessed with possessing/Polyjuicing professors, fixing elaborate tournaments, Horcruxes in the shape of innocent looking diaries and one hundred year old snakes in secret rooms, he would have found conquering the school that little bit easier.
But then again, where was the dramatic flair in simply flooing an army into the inner sanctum of the enemy and destroying them from within? No, if you were going to take over the world history demanded you at least make a decent story out of it, preferably one with a sequel. It was preposterous to think otherwise.
The gargoyle guarding the staircase to the Headmaster's office slid gratingly out of his path. So he was expected. It was not overly surprising. Albus Dumbledore was not one to be caught off guard. It was, most likely, the crucial contributing factor to the reality that the man had survived long enough to become the doddering, and apparently quite senile, old man so many people held in such high, yet remarkably unfounded, regard. Whether he had ever truly been completely sane was a matter of opinion. Given his dress sense and rather warped sense of humour, Lucius was inclined to think not. Besides, no one in possession of all of their marbles had such constantly twinkling eyes. That in itself should have been a sure and rather blatant sign of failing mental health. Then there was the incident concerning his brother and the goat. Eccentricity was known to run in families.
‘Headmaster,’ Lucius greeted smoothly, stepping into the room and tipping the head of his elegant cane as the door slid quietly shut behind him. ‘I am honoured you found the time in your busy schedule to see me.’ The old man just smiled genially at him, summoning a plush pink armchair out of thin air that caused Lucius’ bright smile to fade to a rather menacing snarl.
‘Please, have a seat.’ Dumbledore rooted around in one of his desk drawers as Lucius regarded the creation with distaste, wondering but not particularly perturbed by the prospect that the man would take offence, or even notice a quick charm to at least fade the horrific colour slightly. There wasn’t time however, as the Headmaster emerged, producing a glass bowl with a small noise of success and proffering it to the aristocratic man. ‘Sherbet lemon?’
The only thing that could convince him to eat one of those foul Muggle creations was if it happened to be poisoned, and was thusly being offered as a quick escape to the indignity of the chair Lucius was not so much sitting in, as attempting to hover a couple of inches above. He had not spent months ridding Narcissa of her awful attachment to the putrid colour expecting to be subjected to it again. And it was astounding how much damage such a simple thing could potentially do to his reputation, were anyone to see. The senior servant of the Dark Lord did not relax in badly styled seventies furniture sucking on sugary treats.
Swallowing his growing nausea and gritting his perfect teeth, Lucius dove straight to the point of his visit, dismissing the offered sweets with a barely noticeable wave of his flawlessly manicured hand and pulling on every last thread of aristocratic superiority he had ever owned. ‘It has come to my attention that even after accepting his esteemed position as Head Boy, my son is still forced to live in the same conditions as the rest of his House.’ Lucius fixed Dumbledore with a questioning stare, his very posture indicating the terrible insult that had been made through the oversight, and the vengeance that would be immediately wrought were it not rectified. And the point of the chair was revealed in all its splendour. It was damn near impossible to look sufficiently intimidating on such a grotesque item.
‘Yes, well. The position is one of responsibility, meant to prepare the young minds for the world beyond these walls. It is not a status symbol.’
‘Nevertheless.’ Lucius stared imperiously down his perfectly defined nose at the old man, who despite insisting on wearing the most outrageous green and purple robes imaginable still managed to look oddly disquieting. ‘The position itself does imply status.’
‘Yes, yes,’ Dumbledore agreed wholeheartedly. ‘But not, perhaps, the status you have in mind.’ Dumbledore should have been honoured. He had just attained the much sought after title as the first person to insinuate that he, Lucius Malfoy, might be wrong about something, and lived. ‘It is not so much about separating one or two students from the rest of the school as it is creating a more harmonious environment, encouraging trust and promoting leadership.’
Lucius felt no desire to listen to the continuing ramblings of an attempt to justify not giving him exactly what he required. He barely gave Dumbledore a moment to finish the sentence, before interrupting with a well-practised finality in his tone, his cane hitting the floor with a sharp thud as though to herald what he was about to demand. ‘I believe it only fair that my son be given his own rooms.’
There was silence as Dumbledore looked thoughtful, leaning back in his seat and drumming his long fingers together before starting to speak slowly and carefully. ‘It is unprecedented. No Head in the history of the school has ever received, or even felt the need to request such an honour.’
‘Still, Draco’s accomplishments and service to the school should warrant something in return,’ Lucius continued matter of factly, both his hands coming to lean on the head of the cane in front of him with poise and regal bearing. ‘And we cannot allow the ways of the old to influence how we proceed into the future.’
‘No, indeed not.’ Dumbledore was stroking his beard considerately, increasing Lucius’ urge to pull the stupid old fart across his desk by it almost tenfold. ‘Yet such an act may well be the cause of discourse amongst the remaining students.’
Lucius smiled disconcertingly, although it did nothing to faze the Headmaster. ‘I was not suggesting my son be the only one to benefit. I have heard nothing but positive praise from him regarding the Head Girl.’ His son had never managed to master the art of false sincerity without choking on his own words. It was not a problem that had ever concerned Lucius, and Dumbledore looked as though he were trying very hard not to choke on his lemon drop, masking a bout of spluttering behind his hand as his eyes widened. Lucius spared him a brief look of feigned concern. ‘Naturally the honour would extend to her also.’
‘The castle,’ Dumbledore managed to cough, smoothing down the front of his robes as he collected himself and cleared his throat again before continuing. ‘The castle, although magical, does not come with an abundance of living quarters. To suggest we find two separate spaces for people who have lived quite happily without until now, may not be feasible.’
‘Of course.’ Lucius’ smile had grown, becoming far more predatory in nature. ‘I am well aware of the limitations of the building, and I am certain my son would not object to sharing.’ Well, he might object, however he undeniably wouldn’t expect anyone, least of all his own father, to take him seriously. ‘It would, after all, still be significantly better than that in which he is currently residing.’ Dumbledore looked momentarily caught off guard. It was really rather pleasing to watch.
‘The school is not in the habit of allowing mixed gender cohabitation.’
‘I was not under the impression that the common rooms were currently single sex.’
‘They are not, however the dormitories are. We are not in the nature of simply trusting hormonal adolescents, and ancient spells have been in place for quite some time to protect against any…misguided acts of youth.’
‘If you are suggesting that my son cannot be trusted…’ Lucius sent a quizzical warning look in the direction of the old man.
‘Of course not.’
‘Then perhaps you are doubting the virtue of Miss. Granger?’ He quirked an eyebrow.
‘Not at all,’ Dumbledore replied sharply. ‘Merely her willingness to participate. And I am afraid we cannot allow the privilege for one if the other does not consent.’
‘She is a young woman. Surely she has no objections to her own space, with only the charming company of Draco to interfere with her studies. It is not as if I was proposing they share a bedroom.’ Dumbledore looked doubtful of the comment. ‘And perhaps a shared living space would help encourage any animosity between their respective houses to fade. Such a thing could only be of benefit to the entire school.’ That was the sort of thing that appealed to the old man. He was almost comical in his virtuous battle to unite the student population, and seemed quite oblivious to the fact that, regardless of House and upbringing, what he actually had was a building full of teenagers, a species known far and wide for its unwillingness to get on with anybody for more than approximately five minutes at a time.
‘I am afraid I simply cannot permit such a thing. Not only is it ethically debateable, but also the potential outrage from parents is almost certain.’
‘I am a parent, and I have no issue to raise.’
‘The issue would be one of impropriety,’ Dumbledore sighed, and Lucius could practically feel him holding back from defining the word for his benefit.
‘I see no reason why two maturing teenagers, who obviously hate each other with a passion that could never to lead anything questionable, should not be forced to live together in ridiculously close quarters and, if possible, without any nearby teachers present to check on their behaviour.’ Lucius looked smug, crossing his arms and checking himself from leaning back into the still stubbornly pink chair. ‘One would hardly have thought you were in the habit of endangering students lives - never mind accommodating what is perfectly natural behaviour - yet your resident Mr. Potter seems to have managed to catch himself in any number of escapades quite easily preventable. Why such a simple thing as this in comparison should cause you such a crisis of principles is unfathomable.’
‘Yet my principles remain unwavering.’
‘Then you must forgive me for being so presumptuous,’ Lucius continued without a hint of apology. ‘But if this is your decision I feel it my duty, not only as a parent but as a past Governor, to question a number of other rules regarding ‘inappropriate behaviour’ that have failed to be implemented by the school.’
‘I am always willing to listen when the well being of my students is at stake.’ Somehow Dumbledore managed to keep a straight face whilst saying that. Perhaps he even believed it. Lucius couldn’t help but be surprised. He hadn’t even had to throw anything, let alone demolish the room, as rumour had it Potter had been forced to do to draw the man out of his personal fantasy world. Privately Lucius wouldn’t have minded an invitation to join him there. Apparently it was a place where children of his son’s age could be trusted in any situation to keep their hands to themselves. Any situation, that was, barring the one under discussion.
‘The Astronomy Tower, for example,’ he sneered, further incensed as the Headmaster look blank and innocently uninformed of the notorious location. ‘The number of illicit liaisons that have taken place there leads me to the inevitable conclusion that you must be cancelling Astronomy classes simply so there is enough time for them all. That or you are actively encouraging voyeurism.’ Dumbledore actually had the gall to chuckle.
‘We cannot guard out students every minute, and I’m sure such reports have been grossly exaggerated.’
‘Students sneaking out at night to visit the illustrious ‘Night-Life’ scene of Hogsmeade.’
‘Ah, yes. However everyone who has gone looking for this place as found themselves faced with nothing more than a run down warehouse and a reputation for gullibility. And also a cold walk back to the castle.’
‘The free use of the prefects bathroom,’ Lucius spluttered indignantly, irate at how easily his comments were being brushed aside. No one could be this unaware. ‘The password is given out like candyfloss. Or if not there, then the Quidditch showers. They are a veritable hotbed of sordid activity!’
‘I was not aware the Quidditch pitch had its own showers.’ Dumbledore sat up slightly straighter in his chair. Ah ha. That had him. The meddling fool didn’t know everything.
‘Only for the men.’ Lucius’ eyes widened meaningfully, as Dumbledore glanced out the window towards the distant pitch, where a familiar black haired boy had climbed to excessive height just to fall off his broom with surprising clumsiness for someone of his apparent natural talent. Several other players had swooped towards his falling frame, catching him at the last second and depositing him safely on the ground as a head of flaming hair confiscated the offending item responsible for the near death.
‘Perhaps you have a point.’ There was no perhaps about it. ‘Thank you for bringing it to my attention.’ So, not only was Dumbledore completely uninformed when it came to his charges, but he had a remarkably selective short-term memory problem.
‘Surely you see how my request is nothing compared to the outrageous behaviour of the rest of the school,’ Lucius gently steered the interfering idiot back to the issue at hand.
‘Draco will remain with the rest of his House.’ Dumbledore’s tone was firm. Apparently even the most noble of people were capable of outstanding hypocrisy. ‘However, I will be having words with the rest of the faculty regarding everything you have told me. Perhaps some sort of lecture is in order.’ He gestured for the door, which opened as Lucius rose gracefully to his feet. ‘Rest assured your concerns will be dealt with.’