This is my response to sick-atxxheart's "Always" challenge and the Monday 6th of September prompt from Hogwarts Online.
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Always was a foolish word, in Lucius Malfoy's opinion. It was naive and absolute, hinting at a level or permanence that didn't exist. He had once imagined that he would always have power; that he would always be with Narcissa; that he would always make the right choice, in the end. The reality was very different to the life he had dreamed for himself.
The influence he had spent his adult life building had begun to unravel the moment the prophecy hit the ground. His good standing he had regained in the eyes of the Dark Lord had proven ephemeral. Mistake after mistake had been like splinters in his marriage that had become infected with bitterness. What love there was between them had been eroded quickly. His luxurious mansion had been replaced by Azkaban prison for more time than he cared to dwell on, even after the war had finished and he had been allowed to fade into obscurity.
He had never shown Draco the attention that he craved, nor had he cultivated the parental bond between them as Narcissa had done. As a result, Lucius knew that his son despised him. Narcissa had left him as soon as the battle had finished – she had seen her chance to remain in the good graces of the public for her role in the war and taken it, and he couldn't blame her for it; Lucius would have done the same thing in her position. He would have done more than he was prepared to admit to escape his self-inflicted captivity in his home.
In the end, he did nothing drastic. He had slipped on an old cloak and sat in the corner of the Leaky Cauldron, both irritated and reassured by the buzz of inane chatter.
He had kept his hood over his head and observed the scene before him. A crowd of young people by the bar were generating the most noise, and there was a group of wizards of all ages discussing the results of the latest quidditch match rather too heatedly to be respectable. There was only one other person sitting alone, and like him she appeared rather disdainful of her surroundings. Her pretty features, set in an expert look of boredom, were familiar to him. On more than one occasion, the crowd by the bar attempted to draw her into their conversation. She turned, and despite himself Lucius was curious.
Their eyes met. He recognised her as a relation of that girl who had married his son – he had met Astoria Greengrass and her sister only twice, but the similarities were unmistakable. It seemed that she recognised him too, because she joined him in the shadows as soon her friends were otherwise occupied.
"These places really are vile, don't you agree?" She sipped her gillywater and gave a slight shudder. "I'm Daphne, Astoria's sister. It's been a while, but I remember you."
After that meeting, he had certainly remembered Daphne. He had missed the art of conversation, and she was surprisingly well versed in it – considerably more so than her giggling younger sister. The following night, he had returned to the pub with the hope of seeing her there. Lucius hadn't been disappointed – she was waiting, without her friends, toying with a strand of her brown hair. He had watched her for a moment before announcing himself, and they had carried on their conversation from where they had left off.
Daphne had quickly become a part of his routine, loathe as he was to admit it. He found her engaging and witty, and she never filled a natural silence with banal chatter. After a few weeks had passed, they had made an unspoken agreement to venture into more personal topics.
He had wondered why it was that she relied on their conversations as much as he did, although he had avoided asking in order to avoid drawing Daphne's attention to it, and the answer had surprised him when it surfaced.
"Exactly what is it that you do with yourself?" He was torn between formal and informal address, and failed to understand why it was that he had such difficulty deciding between the two – it was a simple enough matter, after all.
"The same as all of the others; surviving." She looked away from him, too fragile looking to sound as jaded as she may have wished. "We had all thought that this would be our time. We sat around the common room and talked about what it was that we would do. Some of us were luckier than others."
And in most cases their luck had depended on their parents' roles in the war. Lucius took a drink from the tumbler of firewhisky, but it didn't warm him.
"My son has landed on his feet." It was the first time either of them had mentioned Draco. Daphne turned her head sharply, her expression unreadable. "However, that will never satisfy him."
There was a pause.
"I'm fortunate. All that I wanted was to study potions, and I have that..." Daphne stared at the table, her hazel eyes unseeing. She was unnaturally still. Tears of frustration slipped down her cheeks. "But it was good to know that there was always more, if I wanted it."
Lucius was surprised to feel her hand cover his. It was small, soft and strikingly delicate.
The memory of her touch had left Lucius feeling unbalanced. He had become used to the monotony and emptiness of his life, and Daphne had made him consider, however fleetingly, the idea that he could have better. The next night he had booked a room upstairs using one of his minor accounts at Gringott's so that the transaction couldn't be traced to his name. Daphne had been surprisingly shy about the whole thing – every time they met, it seemed to Lucius that he learned something unexpected about her. Afterwards, she had curled her willowy limbs around him like a cat, her hair tickling his neck. Lucius hadn't planned on staying – it simply hadn't occurred to him that he would want to – but he did; having Daphne sleeping beside him was a pleasant experience. It was reassuring, soothing.
In the morning, their roles were reversed. Daphne took the initiative, and he had been happy to let her.
"Morning, Lucius." She covered her mouth as she yawned and nestled into his side, tilting her head upwards to press a kiss against his jaw. "I was wondering whether or not to wake you, but you slept so peacefully that I thought I'd let you be."
The news that he had slept soundly caught Lucius off guard, although he didn't allow himself to show it. The four-poster, although serviceable, did not match the luxury he was used to, and after his first incarceration, Narcissa had complained about his restlessness until he had finally moved into another bedroom.
"Good morning... Daphne." He was unsure about what was considered the normal practice in such situations, and the way she was running her fingers through his hair made no sense to him, however Daphne seemed to be enjoying her ministrations. Lucius watched her, noticing how attractive she was in natural lighting. The sun brought out hints of red in her hair.
Suddenly she stopped and rolled onto her stomach.
"I think that we should have breakfast now. I'm hungry, and you must be too." Daphne flushed at the reference to the previous night, causing him to realise how young she really was. He was distracted from the rather disconcerting thought by the way she wrapped a sheet around her body, as though to preserve her modesty.
She waved her wand to ignite a fire in the grate and began to order food for them. When Daphne wriggled back into the bed, there was a noticeable decrease in temperature and her feet were like ice against his legs. Still, Lucius found that he couldn't resent her for it. He was altogether too focussed on how delightfully smooth her skin was against his own. Impulsively, Lucius kissed her, stroking her fringe back from her forehead. Lucius never knew how such affection would be received. Daphne sighed contentedly, and it was all the encouragement he needed to press a trail of kisses along the curve of her neck.
"You really are lovely, you know." He had thought so for quite some time, although it had never seemed like an appropriate thought to voice. However, at regular intervals through the night Daphne had said such things to him, so Lucius doubted that she would object.
"Lucius?" Daphne caressed the side of his face, stopping him from drifting off to sleep. He looked at her expectantly. Even in the watery moonlight Lucius could see that she looked slightly nervous. "Your eyes are beautiful."
It was one of the strangest things anyone had ever said to him. With uncharacteristic awkwardness, he tightened his hold on her and closed his eyes once more.
"Go to sleep."
When the breakfast tray finally did appear on the bedside table, Lucius would have been perfectly happy to ignore it – he was exhausted, and once again Daphne was curled around him, warm and soft, a slight sheen of sweat on her brow – but it seemed that she had other ideas. With what he considered positively unnatural energy, she sat and reached for her wand, causing the tray to hover above her legs.
"I'm definitely ready for this." Daphne slathered a liberal quantity of honey across each of the crumpets and poured tea into each of the mugs they had been given. She shocked Lucius by feeding him with exemplary care, taking alternate bites for herself. He couldn't imagine Narcissa willingly doing anything so menial for him, even when their marriage had been strong.
By the time they had finished, Daphne had gone quiet. It was not easy like any of the previous silences they had shared, and she was frowning slightly. The fire crackled from the other side of the room – neither of them had thought to put it out.
"Daphne?" She turned to face him without meeting his eyes and Lucius realised that he had no idea what it was that he wished to say. He realised that she was displaying the classic signs of regret. The thought made his stomach dip – perhaps, Lucius thought, he had eaten too quickly. "What are you thinking about?"
"I don't know." She flopped backwards onto the bed. It was an unconvincing lie, and they both knew it. "What happens next?"
Lucius gave the question some thought. He certainly wouldn't be adverse to a repeat of the previous night. However, there was no way of knowing if Daphne was looking for the same thing as he was, and he didn't wish to risk his pride by asking. During their time together he had grown somewhat fond of her, and he didn't relish the prospect of letting her go. Selfishness came more naturally to him than it did most, but Lucius wasn't sure if he could allows Daphne to tarnish her reputation by consorting with a convicted Death Eater – a successful life had become harder enough for their like as the tides had changed without any other problems being raised.
"Lucius?" Daphne's voice was small, and again he was reminded of how young she truly was.
There was no way to justify keeping her. Lucius sighed.
"Truthfully, I don't know." Daphne's look of mild surprise was gratifying. She was oblivious to the fact that he was at a loss with what to do. Lucius reached out, paused when he realised that he had no idea what it was that he was about to attempt, and tucked the blanket more tightly around her. If Daphne was confused by the gesture, she said nothing. Her acceptance of his mannerisms was one of the factors that made her presence so agreeable to Lucius.
"What is it that you want to happen next, then?" Daphne rolled onto her side so that she was looking down at him and caressed his cheek. "Do you want to see me again?"
"Yes, I do." He couldn't help but give a wry smile.
"But?" Daphne bit her lip impishly, knowing how much her informal speech irritated him.
"However, I am not without reservations." Lucius felt her hand wrap around his wrist underneath the covers and did not comment. "Associating with me will be of no benefit to you – once you have earned your mastery in potions, you will no doubt wish to conduct research for the Department of Mysteries or perhaps brew for St. Mungo's."
"And you're still married." She gave a small frown.
"I always will be, legally. You knew that." Each of them considered the truth that had been taboo for the duration of their relationship, and Narcissa's silence stretched between them. Lucius couldn't help but wonder what it was that Daphne thought of his wife. Narcissa was an enigma, even to him in some ways.
"I did, and I have no idea what it is that I want to do next. Whatever it is, I'd rather keep on doing this as well." Daphne sighed. "I feel as though I'm less... adrift, somehow."
Empathy was not something Lucius possessed an abundance of, yet he found that he could relate to the idea that their affair functioned as an anchor. He nodded slowly.
"You can't know that it's a worthwhile risk, Daphne. Were it not for the fact that you would accuse me of being patronising, I would tell you that it certainly wouldn't be. This is not the time for noble sentiment."
"It's the best chance I've had at feeling as though I belong, and I want to take it; pure selfishness – there's never a time for nobility." Irritated, she blew her fringe from her eyes.
"You're entirely too young to make such cynicism believable." Lucius avoided responding to the heart of Daphne's argument. There was no way he could willingly surrender the feeling of her skin, soft and smooth, against his. He watched with amusement as she pursed her lips.
"Then you're going to stick around until I'm old enough to be sceptical." It was voiced as a statement rather than a question. Her determination intrigued Lucius; it wasn't often that Daphne spoke so adamantly to him.
"Really?" He quirked an eyebrow pointedly.
"Yes."
"If – if – we do..." Lucius paused uncomfortably, relying on Daphne to fill in the gap with some term or another for their affinity. "Then I can't promise that I will always possess the ability to make you as happy as you appear to be presently. I can't promise that we will succeed, or that any sacrifice you make for me will be worthwhile."
Her reaction surprised him. Daphne threw her arms around him with such force that Lucius winced. He thought, rather half-heartedly, that it was a rather uncouth display of affection, but all critical thoughts faded as it registered how tightly she was holding on to him – tightly enough to suggest that she didn't want to let go.
"Then we'll do this day by day." She pressed a series of kisses against his mouth, each more heated than the last.
"Always." Lucius wrapped a possessive arm around her, enjoying the idea of keeping Daphne by his side.
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