Perhaps sensing the unusual atmosphere, Lucius suddenly glanced toward the dining table with his light-grey eyes.
There was more than one person sitting there.
His wife was not alone.
Even though there were some changes, the boy's overall appearance remained the same, as did that unmistakable light-blond hair.
"Draco?"
He whispered his son's name in shock.
When Lucius saw the boy sitting opposite Narcissa, he was absolutely certain that his son had returned.
"Dad, I'm sorry I only just got back. I made you and Mum worry."
Malfoy stood up, looked at his father, and said apologetically.
The father and son's eyes met for a fleeting moment.
However, Lucius did not immediately display the expected ecstasy. Instead, he gripped his silver snake-headed cane tightly.
As the head of the family, no matter how excited he was, he could not show it too intensely or allow his emotions to appear openly on his face.
He had just returned from Dumbledore's funeral. For some reason, he had not used the Floo Network directly connected to his home, but had instead taken a roundabout route through the nearest available network, so he looked somewhat travel-worn.
"Good, good. It's good that you're back and that everyone's all right."
Even though he had tried his best to calm himself, he still could not suppress his excitement. He nodded twice in succession, his words somewhat incoherent.
His breathing, which had only just settled after the long journey, became laboured again.
He gathered his thoughts and tried his best to remain composed.
"When did you get back?"
He asked as calmly as possible while straightening the hem of his clothes, but his hurried footsteps betrayed his true state of mind.
Lucius quickly reached the dining table, embraced his son, and patted him on the back.
"Not even half an hour ago."
Malfoy replied.
"Let Draco eat first. We can ask these questions later."
Narcissa impatiently cut him off.
Lucius's expression froze for a moment before he gave a relieved smile.
He knew how much his wife doted on their son.
There was no need to rush now that Draco was back. They could ask their questions slowly.
"All right, let's eat first. I'm hungry too. I arrived at Hogwarts too late and had to wait outside."
He said with a smile, his wrinkles seeming to smooth out.
He pulled out a chair and sat down beside Malfoy, but his gaze never left his son.
It had to be said that even without Dobby, the meal was still quite lavish.
"Draco, why aren't you eating any meat?"
Narcissa looked at Malfoy picking at some lettuce, her face filled with concern. She almost wanted to push the plate in front of her toward him.
"Oh, Mum, I really don't have much of an appetite."
Malfoy could only explain, because it was the truth.
When he had been staying in a fishing village in Germany, there had been a period when he had no choice but to eat fish for a long time.
When he was travelling through the wilderness, he would hunt fresh food whenever he had the opportunity. When he didn't, he would eat canned meat packed in those seamless, expandable containers.
It had made him inexplicably miss fresh fruits and vegetables.
Compared with wild game, edible plants that grew naturally in the wilderness were hardly as delicious.
However, Malfoy's standard of living had not actually declined much during this period.
It was simply that the sense of urgency brought about by constant pressure was completely different from ordinary life.
After a while, the meal ended.
After wiping his mouth with a tissue, Malfoy finally felt as though he had returned to the civilised world.
It was almost as if he had been living in another world.
The series of unexpected events that had occurred not long ago had kept his attention completely focused. Only now, after finally settling down, did he truly realise that he was home.
He felt inexplicably relieved.
But soon, Lucius bombarded him with a series of questions.
"Where have you been all this time?"
"Why didn't you come home? Your father could have solved all your problems."
"Why did you come back now? Do you know that Dumbledore is dead?"
"Wait a moment! Draco will tell you everything! You're already treating him like a criminal before the Aurors have even caught him!"
Narcissa said irritably.
Lucius could only respond with a bitter smile.
Malfoy then dealt with the many questions from his parents and answered some of them.
Narcissa readily accepted his explanations and nodded repeatedly.
Lucius, however, was not nearly as trusting.
He scrutinised his son carefully, concern evident in his eyes.
As Draco's father and the head of the House of Malfoy, Lucius was a master of political manoeuvring. Without sufficient reason, he was difficult to persuade.
He trusted his own judgement.
His brow remained furrowed, but he could not analyse everything in such a short time.
"The Dark Lord may return today."
Lucius suddenly spoke.
Malfoy turned his head slightly, falling silent as he thought.
He could guess that Lord Voldemort was still using this place as his base.
Malfoy Manor covered a vast area and contained many underground passages similar to those at Hogwarts. These passages could be used to conceal newly recruited Death Eaters or serve as strategic attack routes.
Lord Voldemort certainly would not return to living in some desolate wilderness.
How he should behave in front of him became a very serious question.
Exactly how could he gain that man's trust to the greatest possible extent?
Malfoy felt anxious.
Even after so much training, he was still somewhat fearful of the road ahead, afraid that a single wrong move would lead to complete failure.
Just as his thoughts began to drift, Lucius's soft exclamation pulled him back.
"No… The Dark Lord may already be here. I have to go first."
Lucius's left arm suddenly trembled. His brows furrowed involuntarily, and his grey eyes revealed a subconscious mixture of fear and disgust.
He murmured to himself.
Malfoy could sense that his father was somewhat reluctant to accept the Dark Lord's summons.
"I'm leaving now."
Lucius hurriedly said this to the two people at the table before getting up, leaving the living room, and heading toward his bedroom.
That room now belonged to Lord Voldemort.
It was where he had once spoken with his confidants.
Lucius knew his home like the back of his hand. He navigated several corridors and branching passages, and soon found his room.
He stood stiffly outside the door, his expression hesitant.
His raised hand hovered near the door before slowly lifting, then dropping heavily again.
His son's return had made him even less willing to seek further help from Lord Voldemort.
But this was not something that could be changed simply by his own wishes.
One mistake—one action that might anger that man—could bring about utter disaster.