Arguments of Youth

The morning sun shone brightly in the first hours of dawn, but the light that reached Lucius Malfoy was gently muted by the dark, stained-glass of the window. It lent the room a soft, warm glow, completely unlike the brash, harshly cheerful light that graced the outside world. A stack of papers was illuminated by the easy light as they lay in complete disarray on the oversized desk. The only sound was the caustic scratch of the feathered pen, which constantly grated on Lucius's nerves.

The door to the room swung open, and, even though it was free of creaking noises, Lucius began to feel the edges of irritation creeping upon him. Dealing with his son in the morning was always an exasperating business.

The young boy walked into the room without asking permission, quickly hopping onto the chair in front of Lucius's desk. He looked at his father seriously for a few moments as if he expected the older wizard to drop all his work and talk to him. Lucius wasn't quite ready to do that, so he continued to write carefully on the paper before him. Maybe if he looked busy enough, his son would leave him alone.

After a few minutes of unbroken silence, Draco began to fidget, obviously becoming impatient. Lucius tried to hide his smile.

"I want a doll," Draco announced, his patience at an end.

He looked at his father angrily, as if daring the older man to contradict or displease him in any matter. However, Lucius didn't find it quite as frightening as his son would have probably liked. He merely put his pen down and looked up at the boy, shaking his head remonstratively.

"Draco, you're a boy. You don't need a doll," he said curtly.

"Yes, I do! I need to practice different hair styles on it!" Draco answered, pouting.

Lucius rested his forehead on his hand, trying not to scream. Sometimes, he really worried about his son.

"Little boys shouldn't care so much about their hair. It's disturbing," he said through gritted teeth.

"I can dress it, too!" Draco argued.

Lucius closed his eyes and took a deep breath, reminding himself that killing Draco wasn't an option, no matter how attractive it might seem.

"I knew I shouldn't have let your mother spend so much time with you," he muttered.

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The evening sun barely lit the room. Instead, the light came from a few carefully placed candles that flickered fitfully in the still air of the room. The papers on the desk were now in a carefully arranged pile, all neatly folded and stacked. Behind the desk, Lucius sat quietly, thinking over the events of the day. The quiet of the room was perfect and comforting.

Suddenly, the door opened and slammed against the wall with a resounding thud, revealing the small, slim figure behind it. Draco ran up to his father's desk and, once more, jumped onto the chair.

"What sound does a hippo make?" he asked, his eyes wide and bright with curiosity.

Lucius stared at his son for a second and shook his head disbelievingly. He glanced down at his desk and picked up a paper, trying to look occupied.

"I don't know, Draco, and I'm busy," he lied, reaching for his feather pen.

Draco stood up and began to wander around the room, picking up random books and flipping through them curiously. His pale hair fell in his face, hiding his face, and he casually pushed it away.

"I think it must be a really ugly sound. Hippos are fat," he announced, returning to stand before the desk.

"Well, opera singers are fat, and they have lovely voices," Lucius pointed out dryly, placing the paper back onto his desk. There was obviously no distracting Draco today.

"You like opera?" Draco asked, his eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"You don't?" Lucius answered with a smile.

Draco shrugged and picked up a paperweight from the desk, gently tossing it from hand to hand. Lucius waited, knowing that wasn't all Draco wanted to say.

"I think hippos should sing opera. They'd be good at it," the boy said seriously.

"I don't want to even imagine that," Lucius replied with a shudder.

Draco tossed the paperweight again but failed to catch it. It fell to the floor with a loud clatter, much to Lucius's irritation. He pointedly looked at his son, who quickly picked it up and placed it back on the desk.

"Would the hippos have to wear the hats with horns on them and the fancy dresses?" asked Draco.

"Draco, there will be no opera singing hippos, so I don't think it matters," Lucius replied tiredly.

Draco began to walk throughout the door without a word to his father.

"Where are you going?" Lucius asked, dreading the answer.

"I'm going to find a hippo and teach it to sing opera!" Draco announced, turning to grin at the older wizard.

Lucius blinked and stared after his son's retreating back.