Category: Drama/Verbal Abuse.
Summary: Lucius loathes the day he came face to face with Angel.
Timeline: “Deleted scene” of episode 17.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters belong to JK Rowling and associated entities. Buffy and Angel belong to Joss Whedon and Co. Sarky poo belongs to J.J. Abrams and company. Made-ups are mine and mine alone.
Lucius Malfoy simmered in his son’s Italian villa. Why he had allowed Julian Sark to stop him from performing the Avada Kedavra curse on Angelus or to stake the bloody git was beyond him. His heart ached. He yearned to get one back for his family.
There was a dark spot in the Malfoy family lineage, the Great Massacre of 1802. In the very same castle he had inherited from his father, who had inherited from his father before him, as had been for generations, a vampire named Angelus mercilessly attacked and drank the Malfoys ensconced there dry.
The sole survivor, Lucius P. Malfoy, the very same one for whom he was named, locked himself in a crawl space with the house-elf Dobby during the bloodbath. He didn’t emerge for nearly three days in fear that the vampire was still afoot.
When his ancestor emerged, his family was dead. The drifter vampire that ingratiated himself within their home murdered them like a chattel for a slaughterhouse. A diary Lucius P. kept was a grave reminder of that terrible time.
So when Julian and Lucius undertook reconnaissance on Angel, Buffy Summers, and Sydney Bristow for their cause, Lucius cross-checked Lucius P.’s crude drawings and physical descriptions from his diary of Angelus to the black and white photos Julian took of him. They were an exact match, and Lucius became obsessed with Angel, tracking his history as far back as the day he was sired and still known as Liam.
“Father?” Julian questioned as he set the tea on the table between them. “You’re not still on about Angel, are you?”
“Need I remind you,” Lucius said icily, biting off the words crispily, “what that abomination did to our family?”
“Yes,” Julian replied, exasperated. It was pretty childlike how his father had reached a fever pitch at discovering Angel’s history and how intertwined he was with the Malfoys. It was like the Dark Lord with that Potter boy. Personally, Julian was all for keeping grudges, but they needed things from Angel. Revenge would come later.
“Don’t take that tone with me, boy,” Lucius growled, his gray eyes flashing.
“Father, don’t lose sight of what we will accomplish,” Julian reminded him. “We’ve got a Slayer, an assassin, and a champion in need of completing his Shanshu in play, along with that Potter boy.”
Lucius stood up suddenly as if someone had pricked his backside with a sharp pin, upsetting the teapot. “Have you no sense of pride at being a Malfoy? Have your ambitions clouded your family ties all this time? Have Narcissa, and I taught you anything at all?”
Julian stared into the deep abyss of his father’s eyes. It was rare that they could bring him back once he had a mind to do something. But, though he wasn’t a Malfoy by blood, he was as close as one could get.
“It’s because of your guidance and your love and your respect that I am where I am today. Irina Derevko, Arvin Sloane, meant nothing to me. My loyalties are flexible, but not where my family is concerned. You, Narcissa, and even Draco are the only true family I have ever known. I am grateful for that.”
Lucius breathed heavily, adrenaline coursing in his system. He walked away from the table, shoving aside the mahogany chair. The elder Malfoy gazed at the waves that were crashing on the rocks below. Julian watched silently, hoping he had defused the bomb, as Lucius gathered his thoughts.
“I just wish to harm Liam in the very same way he hurt my family,” Lucius explained dejectedly. “Surely you understand that?”
“Yes, Father,” Julian replied automatically. “But we cannot lose sight of the goals we’ve set. The Dark Lord is pleased, as is the Covenant. Not much longer, Father, and we will come out smelling like roses.”
“You can’t fault me for nearly taking Angel’s life,” Lucius said, turning to look at his eldest son.
“And I don’t. But Angel is just one piece in the greater scheme of things. Once the Channeler prophecy has come to pass, we can destroy Angel because we won’t have any need for him anymore,” Julian reminded him. “Or better still, take his soul back.”
“No, no,” Lucius said, waving that idea from the air. “I want him dead. Tortured, then staked. By my hand.”
“Yes, you deserve to exact retribution after all these years for our family.”
Lucius grunted, finally calming down, his thoughts still churning. With a flick of his wand, he righted the chair and cleaned up the spilled tea. “Narcissa wants us home before nightfall, as she’s promised to conjure up a nice meal for the three of us.”
Julian sighed inwardly, proud of his negotiating skills. Anything was liable to set Lucius off at any moment. Julian shuddered, remembering the near-destruction of the Dark Lord after delivering the Avada Kedavra curse in Godric’s Hollow. But that was a distant memory. Julian pushed them from his mind in favor of the execution of their following plot.
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