The Eye Of The Gazer

Most true is it that "beauty is in the eye of the gazer." – Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

Introduction & Disclaimer

This story is by way of a sequel to the story that began in Cho's Chic, and was continued in The Female of the Species. I had an idea which required Lucius to have a young child, and as I had already created his daughter Bryony in Female, I decided to continue the saga. At the end of Female, I invited the reader to come to his/her own conclusion regarding the future relationship between Cho Chang and Lucius Malfoy. By writing this, I have decided on their fate. If this does not accord with your version of events, please regard it as occurring in a parallel universe to yours!

I have borrowed heavily from a work out of copyright for parts of this story. It will be immediately obvious to most people which book this is, and on whom my new original character is based. However, I will not name it here, because this may retain an extra degree of suspense for some readers. It will be acknowledged fully at the end of the story. The result of this borrowing is that occasionally Lucius' speech patterns imitate a nineteenth century novel. This is deliberate, as it seemed to fit with the feel of the story.

All Harry Potter characters are the property of JK Rowling, with influences from the Warner Brothers films, especially Jason Isaacs as Lucius Malfoy. My Cho Chang was written before Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire was cast, but I am happy to see that Katie Leung looks just right, although my Cho is not a schoolgirl but a woman.

This story was written after the publication of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Events in this sixth book have been taken into account where they do not contradict events previously written about in Cho's Chic and The Female of the Species, which were both written before Book 6 was published.

In the main body of the story Cho is 29, Lucius is 53 and Bryony is 6. The narrative also contains flashbacks to earlier times.

The Eye Of The Gazer

Chapter 1

It was two o'clock on a midsummer's afternoon. The weather was unseasonably chilly, with a stiff breeze causing the clouds to scud across the sky, so that one moment the sun shone brightly, and the next it was grey and forbidding, heralding the next shower of rain. The old, imposing, square stone house stood as it had for years in its green park, its every feature exuding Englishness.

Before the grand entrance the figure of a man suddenly appeared, as if blown in by the wind, his black cloak swirling around with each gust. An onlooker, had there been one, would have noted that although at first glance his clothing accorded with the age of the house, there was an indefinable air of otherness about him. Upon closer inspection, it could be seen that the clothes were from no identifiable period of English history, but of a style particular to the wearer. Under the cloak he wore a rich bronze and black brocade waistcoat over a high-necked bronze shirt, black breeches and black boots. The only visible flesh was his face, for his hands were encased in soft black leather gloves, in which he carried a long black cane adorned with the head of a silver cobra. But the most striking thing about the man was his long, pale hair, tied neatly at the nape of his neck, from which a silver-white pony tail spilled down his back, blown about by the wind so that tendrils whipped around his shoulders.

The man climbed the few wide steps to the front door with long, confident strides. With one gloved hand, he pulled the cord beside it, and through the thick wood, he heard a bell ringing in response. It was not long before the door began to open from inside. The man looked downwards, and as he expected, a house elf stood in the doorway, wearing a cut-down linen tablecloth, which in the man's opinion was far too good a piece of material for a mere bonded servant.

"Oh, Mr Malfoy!" said the elf in a shaky voice, his eyes wide, and an obsequious smile on his face. He stood aside just in time as Malfoy brushed past him, not deigning to speak to his inferior. He stood in the spacious hall under the glass cupola, hesitating, then he turned to the elf.

"I believe my daughter will have just finished her studies for the day? I am right that her lessons end at two o'clock, am I not?" The elf agreed that it was so.

"Then take me to her." For Malfoy, this was politeness to a house elf. He never said "please" to an elf, but had this been his own servant, he would likely have added a few words of abuse as well; but in this house he curbed his instincts, for he knew that things were done differently here.

The elf led the way upstairs, and along the landing. Eventually, he indicated a door, and told the guest that this was now used as his daughter's schoolroom. Malfoy nodded curtly at the servant, who bowed, and scurried swiftly away without a backward glance.

Lucius Malfoy opened the door, and stepped inside. Then, as he entered, his grey eyes hardened like flint, and his sensuous lips curled into a sneer. For although his small daughter turned her dark head towards the door and uttered a squeal of delight when she saw him, her father only had eyes for her companion. For a moment he stared unblinkingly at the young woman in stony silence, and she, although initially startled, gazed back at him equally steadily from defiant hazel eyes in her flushed face.

"Miss Granger!" said Malfoy finally. "Well, this is an unexpected meeting."

"Mr Malfoy," she replied briefly. Her jaw set determinedly as she watched him take in the colourful picture books, quills and parchments spread over the large table at which the two females were sitting, his daughter's height boosted by a plump Chinese cushion between her and her chair.

Malfoy's eyes then travelled slowly over the woman from head to toe, and he noted with grudging admiration that she did not flinch or turn away under his scrutiny.

Deliberately, tauntingly, Lucius looked at Miss Granger, and allowed his gaze to linger on her behind, projecting slightly backwards in the gap between the chair's back and seat. He could see she was getting uncomfortable, twisted around as she was, and he took his time, revelling in her discomfort: for he knew it was taking an effort of will on her part to hold her head so that she could look him in the eye. The tension in the air was electric.

But the third person in the room became impatient, as she knew nothing of the history between these two, and she wanted her father's attention. Bryony said, "Daddy! Come and see! Look, I did a picture!" She held up a piece of parchment on which there was an unrecognisable daub in bold primary colours. Clearly, she expected nothing less than fulsome praise for her efforts.

Lucius relented, and smiled at the child. He knew well how she could command him to obey her, and willingly he did her bidding. For a moment he forgot his animosity for Hermione Granger, and instead stepped over to his daughter's side so that she could show him her drawing. His attention was concentrated on tactfully trying to discover what she had drawn, so that he could respond with the right noises of approval. He was surprised by the bright colours in the picture: this was no vegetable-based ink from the wizarding world. Lucius had to stop himself from glaring at Miss Granger when he realised that she had given Bryony Muggle colouring sticks, which no doubt bore a strange name that he had no interest in hearing. When he discovered that the picture was of a red London Muggle bus, it took all Lucius' self control not to hurl abuse at the young woman who still sat beside his daughter with a straight back and a neutral expression.

"Am I to take it that you are instructing my daughter?" he asked, unable to keep silent any longer. His voice was quiet and filled with loathing.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, Mr Malfoy." Then she added, with a hint of malice, "Didn't Cho tell you?"

Malfoy knew she had him at a disadvantage. He had no wish to make a fool of himself in front of this Mudblood, and also he was aware of his daughter looking from him to Hermione in a puzzled way. He would not make a scene in front of her, his precious darling, even though he was seething inside. Instead, he turned from Hermione to Bryony, and said to her, "Bryony, I understand your lesson is finished. I'll wait over there, while you clear away. Make sure you tidy up properly for Miss Granger, there's a good girl."

Lucius turned on his heel, and strode over to the bay window, where he sat sideways on the window seat, looking out at the walled garden below. He pretended to ignore the activity in the room, although he listened attentively as Hermione and Bryony cleared everything away, and watched via the reflection in the window as they put some items into a large cupboard, and others into a leather briefcase that obviously belonged to Hermione. Finally, he heard the Granger woman bidding Bryony goodbye, then she added, "Goodbye, Mr Malfoy," obliging him to turn and reply stiffly in kind. With relief, he watched her leave the room.

Bryony came and stood before him, a miniature version of her mother, and looked at him with large brown eyes. "Daddy sad?" she asked, pulling down the corners of her mouth. Lucius gathered her into his arms, and was glad that she could not see the tears that sprang unbidden to his eyes as he hugged her.

No, he thought, Daddy isn't sad. But he is bloody furious!

Lucius spent the afternoon with Bryony. He took her outside, wrapped up well by a fussy house elf, and they went into the walled garden, which was sheltered from the worst of the wind. Bryony loved flowers, and here they grew in profusion, the fragile long-stalked varieties protected from the elements by the weathered stone. Lucius expected her to take him to her favourite scented roses, but instead she led him by the hand to the herb garden, where there grew a mixture of culinary herbs and potion ingredients. Bryony proceeded to name each kitchen herb in turn in the first bed, and to say what it was used for. She had been well taught, and her recitation was mainly accurate. Lucius praised her memory. He was genuinely impressed with her, Draco had been far less studious at her age.

"Miss Currer is a good teacher isn't she?" he said. "She's taught you well, you remember all the names! You're a clever girl."

Bryony was proud of all she had remembered, and accepted the praise as her due, but she could not let her father's mistake go uncorrected. "Miss Currer good," she agreed, "but Miss Granger helped me better. She teach me how to 'member the names. She make lesson fun."

Lucius' daughter was not yet sophisticated enough to recognise the hard look in her father's eyes, for he held his interested expression, and merely said, "Miss Granger again? Does she teach you much?"

"Miss Currer teach me more," Lucius was relieved to hear. "Miss Granger very busy, Mummy said. She's very clever witch. She works at university. Only very clever people work at university."

"What does she teach you?" asked Lucius, keeping his voice level.

"About Muggles. Her Mummy and Daddy are Muggles, and she know all about them."

Lucius was silent. He breathed in and out deliberately slowly, his nostrils flaring, his jaws clamped firmly shut until he could trust himself to speak again.

"Muggle Studies is it?" he said tightly. "Has she been teaching you Muggle Studies?"

Bryony nodded in agreement. "Yes, Daddy. There are lots of Muggles in England, so it's very important to know about them." Lucius almost shuddered as he heard this last pronouncement, obviously repeated parrot fashion from her lessons. However, in spite of himself, his curiosity was piqued, and he said to Bryony, "What's the most interesting thing that Miss Granger has taught you?"

In reply, Bryony pulled Lucius to the next bed in the herb garden. "Look!" she told him, pointing. "Bryony! Like me!" She took a deep breath, and recited slowly and precisely in a sing-song voice: "Bryonia dioica or English mandrake. It can be used as a medicine. But it's very poisonous, and tastes nasty.

"Miss Granger said not to touch. The berries look pretty, but I mustn't eat them."

Lucius nodded in agreement, and crouched beside Bryony to look at her namesake, its shiny vine-shaped hairy leaves climbing up the trellis against the wall, its berries swelling and turning an inviting shade of red. His arm around her waist, he said, "She's right, my studious little witch. Bryony is a pretty name, and the plant has pretty red berries. But you must never eat them. When you're older, you'll learn how to use all the plants properly, but till then, you must only look and not touch any of the plants in this bed. They're all very dangerous unless you know how to use them safely. Promise me you won't pick any of them, even if the flowers look nice?"

Bryony turned and looked at him seriously. "I promise," she said. Then she flung her arms around her Daddy's neck, and kissed him on the mouth. Lucius hugged her back, and lifted her high on his shoulders for a parade around the flower beds.

"Roses now, Daddy," she commanded. Lucius turned to obey, the ghost of a smile appearing on his face. Who would have thought that the former Death Eater would be so happy to ordered around by an imperious girl child?