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Much to the heartbreak of Lucius, Abraxas Malfoy was not present at his wedding to Narcissa. Though really, very few people had been present at all. In an effort to rid the Malfoy line of such... Wilful disobedience and disreputable optimism, Abraxas had finally thrown in the towel and arranged a marriage for his son. Really, he should have done so a long time ago and saved them all the headache. However, with Lucius having been his only surviving child, he supposed that he had, albeit unbeknownst to him, developed a soft spot for the boy. Disappointment and all. He had wanted to give his only living heir a chance to find someone with whom spending his days could at least be bearable. More quietly, he had hoped that doing so would subtly urge his son to finally fall in line to follow the Malfoy traditions with any modicum of success.
True to his equally disappointing namesake however, Lucius it seemed, would simply not fall in line as he should. He and his wretched wife had elected to elope out of desperation to be wed. As if that weren't insult enough, Lucius had had the audacity to not only apparate into his private study, but to beg that he attend. No Malfoy had so much as even considered grovelling for at least three centuries, let alone pleading. But there his son had been; heart on his sleeve and tears streaming down his cheeks as if he were a child again.
Abraxas had known that no good would come of it, but he couldn't seem to stop himself from saying, "....You may have my blessing, though you shall not have my presence," as Lucius had desperately grasped his hands. Lucius had not dared to so much as tug at the end of his sleeve since he was but a small, frighteningly small boy. In the end, he hadn't the heart to take back his words, either. The two of them were the only remaining Malfoy's, after all. Briefly, he had thought of what his late wife Lobelia would say, seeing their only surviving son so distraught.
Lucius's distress hadn't lessened any at his words. In fact, he had looked rather more heartbroken and for a moment Abraxas had almost felt as if he should say something more. Having a brief lapse of feeling anything at all had been the most unsettling part of the whole event, really. Before any such moment could properly present itself and make the both of them deeply uncomfortable, Lucius's wretched wife to-be had appeared out of thin air to rescue him.
She had not deigned to greet Abraxas or even offer more than a frigid glare as she flew to Lucius's side; a look that had been returned easily. All her kind-hearted tenderness, it seemed, was reserved purely for Lucius. She had wasted no time in taking him into her arms, her tone soft as silk as she'd whispered to him. Abraxas had elected to turn away as his son all but melted into her and crossed over to the window to stare out over the expanse of the grounds until she had calmed him enough for the pair to depart. There was no further business; they had his blessing. In the back of his head, he could hear his own father crowing in disgust, 'It's far more than a disappointment deserves!'
For a long time after the study had fallen silent again, the echos of Lucius's wailing grating as they had bounced around his mind. He had mulled over the memory of his son stood before him, grasping at him pleadingly, desperately with seemingly endless tears pouring forth. It was as if all the unshed tears from generations of Malfoys seemed to have come rushing out of him all at once. For a moment, he almost considered changing his mind. He was fated to only have one son, one heir.
With a heavy sigh, he had summoned a pensive wordlessly and carefully removed the memory and watched with rapidly fading interest as the silvery thread faded into the swirling waters.