Lucius reclined in his seat at the Blacks’ dining room table, one hand idly resting on the polished wood, the other balancing his favorite silver dagger by its tip. His mouth was set in a faint smirk—more a grimace, really—as he glanced around the room, hoping for anything that could make this visit end more quickly.

His parents, Abraxas and Persephone, were in the drawing room with Cygnus Black, discussing some tedious merger of family assets as though this wasn’t a thinly veiled ploy to secure “a suitable match.” That was all Lucius had been hearing about since he’d turned sixteen, and though he’d ignored it for as long as he could, he knew a confrontation was inevitable. They were the Malfoys, after all. Tradition, wealth, and alliances were everything.

He let out a barely audible sigh, frowning as he spun the dagger faster. The cold blade felt reassuring between his fingers. Paintings of ancient Black ancestors stared down at him from every wall, their expressions almost as disdainful as his own.

Then he heard footsteps.

Lucius’s head tilted slightly, his grip tightening on the dagger. He’d been warned that Druella Black would be “making introductions,” and he could guess exactly what that meant. Still, he wasn’t prepared to be impressed. Surely, she’d be like every other pure-blood girl he’d been paraded in front of—some dull, obedient creature who could recite etiquette flawlessly but could barely hold his attention.