It had been years since Voldemort had found anyone worthy of his attention. That it happened to be the handsome son of a former housemate just made it all the more enjoyable. He had arranged this meeting through Abraxas, who was eager for his son and heir to gain Voldemort’s favor. It amused him that a man who had initially treated him with disdain upon his arrival at Hogwarts now kneeled before him and offered his only son in the hope that it would result in more responsibility.
Young Lucius was a typical example of the laziness of youth. Far too handsome and wealthy to appreciate all that he had, lacking any true focus beyond what party he would attend next, and not seeing beyond the empty existence he called his life. Barely seventeen years-old, about to begin his last year at Hogwarts, admired or feared by the majority of his classmates, and positioned perfectly to recruit the strongest youth to join the preparations for a war to take back their world.
There would be no need for impassioned speeches, for outlines and details of his future plans, for thorough research to prove his statements valid, or for vague threats to gain loyalty. Those things were wasted on the arrogance of youth. It would require a more subtle approach, a seduction of the mind, body, and senses. Once he was successful, young Lucius would be his until he outgrew his usefulness.
The library was in perfect order. A fire was warming the room, providing the only heat on this late summer evening. It was possibly too warm, but he tended to be cold and never noticed the heat. A bottle of wine was set out along with two glasses. One glass was coated with a thin trace of Veritaserum that would ensure young Lucius learned from the beginning that his new Lord did not tolerate dishonesty. The chairs were situated exactly as he planned and not a single detail, from the color of the drapes down to the title of the book lying on the table, was left to chance.
By the time the annoying house-elf arrived with Lucius, Voldemort was in the chair nearest the fire reading a book of wizarding history. He deliberately finished the page he was reading before he looked up and acknowledged the boy. “Good evening, Mister Malfoy.”