Peripeteia (Malfoy Daughter Fanfic) Harry Potter, Draco, Lucius

The Will

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy! Welcome."

Lucius Malfoy exited the fireplace and gave a well-rehearsed smile to the rotund man sitting in the plush armchair in front of him, who was—at the moment—folding up his copy of the Daily Prophet and placing it on the nearby table. Lucius strode towards him as the man quickly stood up to shake his hand. "Burgess, always a pleasure. Though I confess, I wished that we were meeting under better circumstances. It's been over a year since we met for recreational purposes."

"Yes, the Yuletide dinner at the Greengrass house, if I'm not mistaken. Ha! I'm surprised I can remember that much, given the drinks," he chucked. While Burgess Borthwick's tone was light and casual, Lucius took a moment to eye him over and noticed his jaw was slightly clenched, and there were a few beads of sweat on his forehead. This made Lucius frown inwardly, but it wasn't as though he expected anything different, considering the reason for his visit. Borthwick's expression sobered. "Mr. Malfoy, I would like to offer my deepest sympathy for your father's current condition. Dragon Pox has claimed many great men throughout the centuries. And Abraxas, while not without his share of controversy, is without question a great man who made contributions to our world that cannot be understated."

That much is true, at least. "Your sympathy is appreciated, Burgess," lied Lucius. "The thought of my dear father passing away soon weighs heavily on me and my family. Our time on this Earth never seems to be enough, but Father can at least ascend into the afterlife knowing that he is loved and cherished."

Borthwick couldn't hide a small twitch of a smile at that shameless display of bullshit, but wisely chose not to say anything. Pressing on, Lucius asked, "The letter I received from you indicated that there were some changes regarding my father's will and the state of the inheritance. I'll admit I'm curious as to why this meeting needed to be held at the Westwell Estate and not at Malfoy Manor."

Lucius knew why, but wanted Borthwick to say it. Borthwick's fingers twitched ever-so-slightly. "Ah, well, it was at the request of your father. You see, Mr. Malfoy—you father, I mean—thought some of the changes within the will might result in further questions, which he claims he will be more than happy to answer. Given his condition, however, it would be inadvisable for him to travel to the Manor, as it might advance the progression of his illness. As I legally represent your father and will be overseeing the eventual distribution of assets, I felt it prudent to request this meeting in a way that was most convenient to the elder Mr. Malfoy."

"Not to worry at all, Burgess, I was merely curious. So, what are these changes, exactly?" Lucius asked lightly, as though he hadn't been obsessively mulling over possible answers to that question for days. Borthwick swallowed and glanced up the staircase. Father, you've got this one on a tight leash.

"I-I was specifically told by your father to let him be the one to tell you. You two will be speaking privately while I remain down here in the drawing room, and afterwards the two of us will discuss the will."

One didn't have to be a Divination prodigy to tell that the conversation between father and son would most likely go poorly. Whatever it is, he wants to see my expression. But Lucius's smile didn't fall or even show a hint of discomfort as he nodded at Borthwick and made his way up the winding staircase.

Westwell Estate was a summer property that had been in the Malfoy family for generations. Abraxas had moved permanently to Westwell once Lucius married Narcissa, which couldn't have pleased Lucius more. He would not have put it past his father to keep the main family home of Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire to himself and relegate Lucius and his wife to one of their smaller properties, considering Abraxas was still technically the head of the family (For now, at least). As reached the top floor and started walking down the corridor, he ignored the faded pictures of his long-deceased older siblings, who were now peering curiously at him through their frames and began following him.