23

MALFOY’S MANNER

or

A HUG FROM VOLDY

I’ve introduced you to my Muggle family. But one of the great advantages of being Draco was that it meant I had a second family: my wizarding, death-eating family. In the story, of course, no family could be more toxic than the Malfoys. To understand Draco, you need to understand that he’s grown up with an abusive father. He never had a chance to become anything other than the unpleasant character he is, because he never knew any different. In real life, though, away from the story and the cameras, my Malfoy family became almost as close as my Muggle family. There’s a reason why I still call Jason Isaacs, who played Lucius, Dad.

The first time I ever met Jason I was absolutely shitting myself. Chris and I had both watched him in The Patriot and we enjoyed how devilishly evil his character was. Our first scene was outside Borgin and Burkes, the dark arts shop in Diagon Alley. This was when we were making the second film, Chamber of Secrets, and I distinctly remember this lovely, charming man reaching out to shake my hand and introducing himself as my father. He was dressed as Lucius Malfoy, of course. However, he oozed none of Lucius’s menace. He immediately took me under his wing, introducing himself to the cast and crew with me by his side and making me feel completely at ease. He offered to make me a cup of tea and run lines. He started to tell an anecdote that had people around him laughing from the start. As I was basking in the reflected glory of his storytelling, I heard the words “Quiet on set!” I knew what that meant, but Jason continued with his story.

“Roll cameras!” I took a breath. Jason seemingly didn’t.

“And… action!”

Mid-punchline, he turned to look at me like he hated me—in a loving sort of way. Jason was gone. This was Lucius…

There was something very discombobulating about seeing a person’s character switch so suddenly and so completely. There was no acting required for me to appear instantly terrified of him. Maybe he did it by design, maybe not. Either way, it worked. Part of Lucius’s costume was a black cane with two fangs at the end. It was Jason’s idea that the cane should conceal his wand. When he first made the suggestion to Chris Columbus, Chris wasn’t keen. But Jason persisted: “I think it would be a really cool idea!” To which Columbus replied: “The merchandise people are going to love you…” The fangs at the end of that cane were a good deal sharper than either of us realised. During that first scene, he whacked me on the hand with them. I resisted tears and managed to ignore the physical damage and stay in character until the end of the scene, with Jason looking at me like I was a piece of shit. Then we heard the word “Cut!” Lucius Malfoy dissolved away and Jason was back, full of apologies and concern. His thin-lipped “Don’t touch, Draco!” was replaced with a touching, concerned “My darling boy, did I hurt you? Are you okay?” It was as if a switch had been flicked.

Even now I get goosebumps when I remember Jason’s transformations. When he was Lucius, I never quite knew what to expect. Which angle was he going to whack me from this time? How would he direct his menace? From an acting point of view, it was a gift. His performance made sense of Draco. Seeing him treat me in such a way gave me licence to treat everyone else similarly, because it helped me understand that there were two sides to Draco’s story: he was a bully, of course, but at heart he was a little boy who was terrified of his dad.

I grew to learn that Jason’s ability to flick the switch was unique. Lots of the adult actors I worked with had little routines or vocal exercises that they used to break out of themselves and into character, whereas Jason seemingly had the ability to become Lucius at the snap of a finger. I’ve never met anybody quite so comfortable on a film set as him. It’s almost like he was born on set. He talks to everyone, includes everyone, is forever in the middle of a perfectly told anecdote. And when the “Quiet on set!” call goes out, and everybody starts to get ready for a take, you can be sure that Jason will still be in full flow, because he knows that as soon as he hears the word “Action!,” he can snap back into character without even a moment’s thought. It is scarily impressive.

From day one, Jason treated me like one of his peers, an immediate equal, someone who he enjoyed talking to. (Whether that bit’s true or not, you’ll have to ask him.) When I was younger he looked out for me on set. As I grew up, he started to take an interest in my life, my passions, my music, my habits good or bad, and my career. He was never judgemental. He was the first adult I had met who spoke openly about growing up in the industry—the highs, the lows and everything in between. He offered advice about how I should set myself up for the future. I was a good actor, he told me. I mustn’t waste my opportunity. I was a little taken aback by his encouragement, but it was gratifying to have that kind of support, and reassuring to have a person on my side who was so giving with his time and energy. If I can be half as present and helpful as he is on set in my career, I’ll consider each project a job well done.

Have I said enough nice things about Jason now? Good. Because we took the piss out of each other as much as we enjoyed each other’s company, and I can’t let him get away with just unadulterated praise. He raised me better than that. Jason is not, shall we say, entirely free of the actor’s traditional foibles. There was never anything shy or retiring about him. And there were times, of course, surrounded as we were with such strong acting personalities, that you had to work hard to make your presence felt.

One such occasion was when we were filming the opening scene for the final film, where Voldemort sits at the head of the table in Malfoy Manor, his Death Eaters in attendance and Charity Burbage floating in the air, about to be murdered. For me, that was a big scene. I was the only youngster, surrounded by so many great and experienced actors. A “Make A Wish” child and his family visited the set before we started filming, and he excitedly handed Jason his copy of the book to be signed. Jason opened it up at the scene we were shooting to find that Lucius, in the original, has rather more to say than was written in the script. Jason was not one to hide his light under a bushel. His brow furrowed. “Bloody hell!” he announced. “I say this in the book!” He carried the kid’s copy over to David Yates, the director. “There’s this line here!” he announced. “I think it would be great for me to get it out there, don’t you?”

David wasn’t sure if he was joking. I still don’t know if he was joking. Either way, a look of infinite patience crossed David’s face. This was not the first time Jason had tried to adapt the script to give himself a little more screen time. David adopted a tone of gracious gratitude. “Thank you, Jason. No really, thank you. What a lovely idea. But perhaps we could just do one as it’s written in the script?” And a crestfallen Jason, well aware that he had just been politely refused, returned the book to the kid, who must have thought his precious copy had just been snaffled in quite a Malfoy-esque manner.

Joking aside, Jason became quite the role model for me. I admired his acting skills, of course, but I also admired his obvious devotion to his real family and was grateful for the friendship he offered me. In the years since Potter finished I have spoken to him more than anybody else from the films. It’s a goal of mine to follow in his footsteps—but don’t you dare tell him I said that.

As comfortable as Jason made me feel on set, another actor did quite the opposite. It didn’t matter how many legendary actors I’d worked with, nobody quite had the presence of Ralph Fiennes. That’s not to say that he was as scary as Voldemort himself—his face was always covered in green dots so that the visual effects people would be able to remove his nose (spoiler alert: he has a nose in real life). And I won’t lie, it was funny seeing Voldemort sitting in his chair wearing his green robes, with a cup of tea in one hand and a newspaper in the other. But while we were filming, he had a weighty presence. He wasn’t like us kids, governed by Carreras’s whistle. He was not Jason, exuberantly telling anecdotes. He was not Robbie Coltrane, playing games and messing about, Hagrid-like, with the kids. He had an otherness that set him apart from everyone else on set.

I found myself at the receiving end of Ralph’s idiosyncratic methods when we filmed the final scene of the Battle of Hogwarts. We spent weeks blocking without rolling a single camera, with everybody in full costume. I’ve never been on a single set for so long. It was such an important scene that they wanted to film it every which way possible, to give the eight films the climax they deserved. And so there were plenty of beats that didn’t end up in the finished film—including a moment when Draco throws Harry his wand for the final duel with Voldemort. Just imagine! There’s a roll of film somewhere showing Draco saving the day, but no one will ever see it. For me, though, the big moment was walking towards Voldemort at my father’s insistence. I must have done that walk thirty or forty times. For many of the takes I did the same thing: walking past Voldemort, keeping my distance, pacing slowly, head down, slightly terrified. Ralph would look at me differently every time. Sometimes he’d smile. Sometimes he wouldn’t. Sometimes he would break off his monologue and tell me to go back. It could be confusing—were we cutting, were we still filming? Occasionally he would repeat lines he’d previously delivered in the same take, each time in a very different way.

In the middle of one take, as I was pacing towards him for the umpteenth time, he lifted his arm just a fraction. It was the slightest movement, but enough to stop me in my tracks and think: is he trying to hug me? Uncertain, I shimmied towards him, my arms down by my side. He put his own arms around me and gave me perhaps the most uninviting hug ever captured on film. Even on set it chilled me. A hug from Voldemort was scary for Draco, and it was equally awkward for Tom. It gave me goosebumps then, and the memory gives me goosebumps now.

That was one take out of fifty. I had no idea they were going to use it until I saw the film for the first time at the premiere in London. The audience was completely silent. There was something so very twisted about that moment, something so wrong about watching Voldemort’s warped display of affection, that I could sense everybody around me holding their breath uncomfortably. It was great! Then I went to the premiere in America. I sat there eagerly waiting for the same response. I watched myself approach the most evil dark wizard of all time. I saw him give me that super-awkward cuddle. I sat expectantly. I waited for the shocked silence. And then I heard everybody in the audience collapse into fits of laughter. The American audience found it absolutely hilarious. To this day I have no idea why. But I love it!

The late Helen McCrory, who played my mother, Narcissa Malfoy, joined us on the sixth film. There were originally discussions for her to play Bellatrix Lestrange, but she fell pregnant and decided not to take the part and to focus on being a mum. Some people might have found it intimidating, joining a tight-knit group of Malfoys and assorted Death Eaters, playing against the on-screen tension between Jason and Ralph. But I never got the impression that she felt intimidated for a moment. She was way too cool for that.

Helen was effortlessly cool. She would sit there quietly, rolling her own cigarettes with liquorice papers, and never feeling the need to talk over other people or speak just for the sake of speaking. She could look really quite stern, as though she could put you on the floor any time she wanted to, but I learned that she was soft-natured at heart. I soon found myself comfortable enough to ask her all sorts of questions about life, love and everything in between, and she was always free with her time and advice without ever talking down to me. Her approach was completely different to that of Jason or Ralph. When she slipped into character there was no sudden flick of the switch as there was with Jason, and no long, dramatic silences as there was with Ralph. Her transition was barely perceptible, but when she became Narcissa there was something in the eyes that told you everything you needed to know about her character: you could see the Malfoy coldness, but you could also see a softer side to her nature. I barely had to look at her and I found myself understanding something deeper about Draco.

We are never explicitly told why he feels so terrified about the prospect of killing Dumbledore, but here is my theory. If we were only able to see the influence of Draco’s father, his reaction might not make sense. But we also see the influence of his mother, Narcissa, the woman who is prepared to lie to Voldemort to save her son. It is that influence that gives Draco his humanity, and if I managed to capture any of that in my performance in the sixth film, it was in part thanks to Helen’s remarkable acting. In her own quiet way, she shaped what I was doing as much as anybody.

In the Voldemort-cuddle scene, when Draco is unsure whether to leave the Hogwarts students and join the Death Eaters, it’s the urgency of his father’s call that gets his attention. It’s the softness of his mother that makes his decision. It was Helen’s ability to render the softer side of Narcissa’s personality that gave Draco the reason to walk. In art, as in life, I found it hard to say no to my mum.