Mrs. Rosier is one of the better ones. She knows who he is and why he's there, and she still invites him in and offers him tea and biscuits. She should know. This is the third time he's been: her husband, her daughter, and now Evan, all of them dead in His name, and fuck all to show for it as far as Lucius can see.
She gives him a cup of tea he won't drink and she sits with her hands folded in her lap while he tells her how Rosier died. He stands with his back to her while he does it, so he won't have to see her face, but he tells her the truth. She doesn't cry. She cried the first time.
Mr. and Mrs. Jones are bad ones. They won't believe him at first that their son was a Death Eater. They call him names and cast aspersions on his parentage, as if he cares what they say about his father. He always wonders how they can not know, the families, if they are willfully blind or stupid. She screams and he makes empty threats, and Lucius lies to them, tells them lies that are worse than the truth was. Dai went quickly, almost straight away. He doesn't tell them that. Let them think he suffered.
Lucius hates them all: the parlors full of dusty photographs, the kitchens with scrubbed pine tables, the tiny flats in London and the manor houses in the country: hates the parents, the husbands and wives and children, the ones with dogs and the ones who curse him and the ones who thank him for coming.
He is the Dark Lord's Second, and most of wizarding England knows him by sight and they lock their doors against him. And they should. He spends his nights leading them to their deaths, or killing them, and his days burying the dead.
He sleeps beside a woman who is three months pregnant, and who will not marry him because of the Mark on his arm. He joined the Death Eaters to spite his father; he stays because he cannot find a way clear. He takes revenge anywhere he can. He is a Malfoy and he could never have been anything more.