Something different I Severus/Lucius/Y/N

where is the security?

After storming away from my door in Paris, Lucius returned home, his anger boiling over like never before. As he entered his grand but now unwelcoming house, his emotions spiralled out of control. Frustrated and feeling betrayed, he unleashed his fury on the inanimate objects around him.

The grand entryway of the Malfoy estate echoed with the sounds of his wrath. He kicked at the opulent furniture that lined the walls, the force of his boots against the antique wood producing hollow thuds. His hands, shaking with rage, found a vase perched innocently on a side table — it was ornate, expensive, and in a split second, shattered against the marble floor after Lucius hurled it with all his might.

"Damned illusions!" he shouted, his voice reverberating through the vast halls. His heart raced, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he swept a collection of framed photographs from the mantle, watching dispassionately as the glass cracked and the frames splintered. Each portrait, a frozen moment of happier times, now lay ruined, much like how he felt inside.

His breaths were heavy, his chest heaving as he paused to survey the chaos he'd wrought. A momentary realization of his own helplessness in the face of emotional turmoil washed over him, leaving him momentarily drained. He leaned against the wall, his forehead resting against the cool, smooth surface as he tried to regain some semblance of control.

The house was silent except for the ticking of the grandfather clock and his laboured breathing. As his anger subsided, it left behind a bitter residue of remorse and a palpable sense of loneliness. With his hands now still and his mind weary, Lucius slid down to the floor, his back against the wall. He closed his eyes, trying to compose himself, but the silence of the house only amplified the turmoil within him.

In this moment of quiet aftermath, Lucius realized that the physical destruction around him mirrored the emotional wreckage he felt inside.

Sitting on the cold, hard floor amidst the chaos he had created, Lucius Malfoy's stern demeanour finally cracked, giving way to raw, unfiltered emotion. The tears began as a mere welling in his eyes, and before he knew it, they were streaming down his face, unrestrained.

"Fuck. Fuck... fuuuck," he gasped between sobs, his voice broken, the refined, controlled façade of Lucius Malfoy now shattered. Each uttered curse was a plea, an echo of the turmoil churning inside him. He raked his fingers through his hair, gripping it tightly as if trying to hold onto the rapidly unravelling threads of his composure.

"Maybe there was a good explanation," he muttered to himself, the first seeds of doubt sprouting amidst his anger and hurt. "Maybe... what if???" His thoughts raced, his mind grappling with the possibility that he had misjudged the situation, and acted prematurely in his anger without seeking the whole truth.

Lucius's heart pounded painfully in his chest as he considered the chance that he had wronged her, that his actions in Paris had been hasty. The images of their last encounter flashed through his mind—the hurt in her eyes, the confusion, the betrayal. Could there have been something he missed? Something he misunderstood?

In that moment, the overwhelming desire to make things right surged within him. He needed answers, closure, or perhaps a path to redemption. With a deep, shuddering breath, Lucius pushed himself up from the floor. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, clearing the remnants of tears, his resolve hardening. 

"I need to talk to her," he decided aloud, the words cutting through the silence of the room. "I need to find out the truth."

As Lucius gathered himself to stand and leave for the purpose of seeking a conversation with me, his intention was abruptly interrupted. A small tawny owl fluttered through a slightly open window, clutching a letter sealed with the distinctive wax emblem of Hogwarts. Its arrival was both unexpected and untimely, given Lucius's tumultuous state of mind.