Inell's Fanfiction Archive

"If I ever see that miserable bastard Fudge again, it will be far too soon," Lucius snarled as he slammed the door shut behind him. "I will curse him until he can not scream any longer and then I will give him his voice back just so I can curse him some more!"


The blond wizard stopped walking when he reached the grass surrounding the gardens at Malfoy Manor. With a sneer on his lips, he released the broom he had been carrying, watching with satisfaction as it hovered the perfect distance from the ground for him to mount. With a smug smile on his handsome face, he muttered, "And Narcissa dared to suggest that I should refresh my knowledge of flying."


He had not been on a broom in nearly two decades, since the last Quidditch match at Hogwarts during his seventh year. Such mode of transport was for children and those without their apparating licenses. Unfortunately, due to recent events, he fell into the latter category. Temporary, Fudge had said in his snide, nasal tone. Lucius was certain that the bastard had taken great joy in suspending his license for six months, knowing he had not imagined the gleam of pleasure in his beedy eyes nor the exclamation of ‘woo hoo’ that had followed his departure from Fudge’s office the previous afternoon.


After much thought, and a lot of sulking, Lucius had realized that there was no way of fighting this terrible injustice. Should he make a complaint to the Ministry, the events leading up to his suspension might become known and that wouldn’t do at all. Fudge had the gall to suggest he should be pleased at losing his license instead of spending time in Azkaban! It certainly wasn’t as if he had planned to apparate illegally during the last raid with his Dark Lord, and there was no question that he had not intended to apparate into the locker room of that college where the lovely, nubile, young women, Lucius frowned slightly. Change that. Where the useless, worthless, Muggle females were changing and showering.


It was not his fault that they had been surprised by his appearance and it definitely was not his fault that several of them had found him attractive, after all, they had rather keen eyesight and he *was* bloody attractive, and proceeded to do their best to, he cleared his throat mid-memory, corrupt him and cause him to break the vows he had pledged to his dear Narcissa. He had shown great restraint, remaining faithful to his wife despite those wicked Muggles actions, and the problem had been easily solved with a few memory charms.


Okay, so he had possibly employed imperio on the three girls with the large bosoms and enjoyed watching them play together for his enjoyment, but Fudge was unaware of that indiscretion. His license had been revoked for six months because of the miscalculation of his apparating. Now he was forced to use a broom should he wish to go anywhere. Luckily, he was an expert at all tasks he undertook and had been a fabulous flyer in his youth.


Insuring that his hair was secured at the base of his neck, he raised his lavish robes and swung his leg over the broom. This was going to be effortless, he thought smugly, settling his arse on the broom. No sooner had his bum touched wood then he found himself propelled into the air. "Aack!" he shrieked in a very feminine manner as his hands gripped the broom, his cane falling to the ground below him as the broom raced through the sky. He couldn’t gain control of the broom and his arse was all ready sore from where the stick of wood was rubbing against his tender flesh.


This wasn’t right, he thought with alarm. He could not recall ever having such a sore bum after flying and he’d only barely begun. He also didn’t understand why the bloody thing wouldn’t allow him to take control. With a determined gleam in his gray eyes, he gripped the broom. His hair surrounded his face in a tangled disarray that could not be considered sexy or attractive at all, which caused him to scowl even more. If one was forced to use such a primitive mode of transport, one could at least be attractive while doing so. Looking like an untidy mess was not conducive to accepting his sentence.


He let out a surprised yelp as the broom changed direction suddenly, his robe flying out from around him as he began a descent towards the ground. "Stop," he commanded the broom, using his best ‘if you cross me, you will wish for death’ voice to no avail. Finally, he gave all pretense of gaining control and merely shrieked loudly as his life flashed before his eyes. Just as he was about to crash, the broom suddenly straightened, slowing down to a stop at the edge of the garden.


Lucius quickly moved away from the broom, giving it a look of suspicion and distaste. "I will use you for kindling, you ungrateful creature."


"Father, why are you speaking to the broom?" a rather amused voice spoke from behind him. "Do you expect it to answer back? If so, I will contact Mother and let her know we should take you to St. Mungos immediately."


"I was doing no such thing, Draco, and there will not be a word of this to your Mother," he denied dryly as he faced his son. His eyes narrowed as he saw the smirk on the boy’s lips. "What did you do?"


"Well, Father," Draco drawled lazily, "you have always taught me to take care of my possessions so I naturally placed an ownership charm on the Firebolt when I first received it last summer. Had you asked for permission instead of simply taking my broom, I would have instructed it to obey your command."


"Well done," Lucius had to compliment the boy for his proper care of the things that belonged to him. Besides, should he admit having no idea why the broom reacted in such a way, he would appear to be quite an imbecile, something that rated as low on his list of ‘things I would like to be’ as appearing unattractive or moronic.


"You know, Father," Draco again stressed the formal title, his eyes not bothering to hide their enjoyment of this particular situation, "should you feel inclined to fly again, you really should use the cushioning charm. I can’t imagine it feels very comfortable sitting directly on the broom."


"Cushioning charm," Lucius repeated slowly, doing his best to pretend that he was aware of the charm even as he quickly tried to remember the exact wording. "Well, Son, it is far riskier to fly without the charm and I am a man that likes a challenge."


"Of course, Father," he replied drolly, knowing full well his Father had not remembered the charm. Suddenly, he looked at the broom and grimaced. "You can keep the Firebolt, Father. I have no intention of using it again. I doubt there are enough scouring charms in the world to make me forget."


"Whatever are you rambling about, Draco?" Lucius snapped, annoyed that his son had caught him in such a humiliating endeavor as well as feeling as low as an inferior Weasley for losing his license in the first place.


"Father, do remember, next time you go flying," Draco shuddered slightly, "please wear clothing beneath your robes."


The End.