This is my response to the Hogwarts Online prompt for December the 7th. Credit to Mew & Mor's Weird Pairings.
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She had changed, in a subtle way. Her aloofness was no longer affected, designed to make her appear worldlier than her twenty-something years could account for – it was genuine, along with the steely sadness that trailed behind her like the scent of perfume. He watched her from the corner of his eye during the meal and the speeches, and couldn't find fault with her conduct; Daphne smiled at the appropriate moments and responded to all of the compliments about what a beautiful bride her sister made with good grace.
There was only one moment during which Daphne faltered, to the best of understanding – and nobody had a firmer grasp of social etiquette than Lucius Malfoy – although she recovered with surprising skill.
Then again, he had always underestimated her.
"And when can we hope for your big day, Daphne?" A witch that he recognised as being a member of the bridal retinue had turned her attention to the elder Greengrass sister. "I trust that you have a nice young wizard tucked up your sleeve."
"Ah, well I'm dreadfully sorry to disappoint, but it seems that nice young wizards and I simply don't gel." For a brief moment, their eyes met. There was a bitter edge to Daphne's voice that caused the other woman to give an uncomfortable smile before turning to strike up a conversation with Narcissa about how proud she must be to see her only son married.
It had never been perfect – he had an estranged wife, and she had an indecent supply of youth. It had never been public, either; they were bound together by desire and secrecy. It had certainly never been easy. Nevertheless, Daphne had kept on coming back, and he had wanted her to... Not that he would have admitted it.
And then, she had disappeared. No 'goodbye', no 'this isn't working for me' – she simply hadn't come back. What bothered Lucius was that she had injured his pride in the manner of her departure (of course, he didn't care that she was lost to him, or that she had waited until he had expected her to return to slip away, and certainly not that she had given the impression of caring).
He watched his son dancing with Daphne's little sister and wondered, idly, whether or not their marriage would last. There was no longer a war to challenge their relationship, or to chip away at their love, and so Lucius thought that his son would, at least, have a happier marriage than that of his parents. The way that Draco was looking at his new wife, Astoria Malfoy, suggested that there would at least be a happy beginning – his eyes had never lost the flinty quality that the war had left, but when Draco smiled, he looked more like the boy that he had been than he had done for years. Lucius had been considering what Daphne would make of her sister's marriage when he realised his mistake; since they had parted ways, he could no longer ask her opinion without embarrassment.
She had made a fool of him, even if nobody knew it. Daphne was still making a fool of him. Every time she lifted those delicate fingers to toy with her hair, every time she lifted the champagne flute to her lips in a fluid motion belying her natural elegance, Lucius couldn't look away.
He did his best to ignore her during the perfunctory dances with Narcissa and with Mrs Greengrass, the former paying little attention to him, and the latter doing her best to convince him of the merits of her younger child, raising her voice to be heard over the string band, completely unaware that he had been ensnared by those of her elder. However, she did follow his line of sight: Daphne, sitting and looking at her surroundings dispassionately.
"...She's not like Daphne, you know. Astoria knows how to enjoy life." Nervously, Mrs Greengrass smiled up at him. It was almost as though she thought he could undo the marriage vows. Well, nobody else was foolish enough to believe he had the power to do so.
"A trait of which my son is certainly fond. Excuse me." He bowed to Mrs Greengrass and left the dance floor, joining Daphne at her table. She didn't look at him. "Your mother doesn't think that you're enjoying yourself."
"Mother knows best." Before she could take another sip from her glass, Lucius pulled it from her hand and set it down on the table.
"How very maudlin." Lucius smirked; it appeared that he had secured Daphne's attention. She looked less than delighted, however she did not resist as he pulled her to her feet.
As always, Daphne fit comfortably against him. Lucius placed a hand on her back, feeling the smoothness of the silken material of her dress robes beneath his touch. He couldn't help but recall the softness of her skin.
"What are you doing?" She regarded him pointedly, the underlying meaning of her question unclear to him. Due to their close proximity, he noticed the shadows underneath her eyes, partially concealed by cosmetics, and covered up by the jewellery that glittered with her every move. Lucius felt his desire to be cruel to her ebb away.
"Leading you in a waltz." It was a weak answer, and they both knew it; Lucius never did anything without a motive. Holding onto her was like trying to grasp onto a dream the next morning. "You look resplendent this evening."
"Really?" Daphne's mouth was set in a hard line. "No, truthfully I hadn't expected you to care that I left – you froze me out from the start. In fact, I'm surprised that you noticed in the first place."
"Excuse me?" Lucius tightened his grip on her waist, fighting the urge to shake her. "You dare to act the part of the victim, the wounded sensitive soul, when you left without as much as a by-your-leave? It was, quite frankly, an insult."
Daphne laughed bitterly, her eyes bright. Thankfully, she was all but inaudible over the music.
"I used to love you – Merlin only knows why. Maybe I still do. I used to love you, but then I realised that you were incapable of caring for anything other than yourself." Daphne blinked furiously, although she did not, as he had expected, pull away from him and march out of the hall. She rested her head against his shoulder, the fight drained from her.
It took all of his self-control to keep his expression neutral.
Lucius didn't know what to feel, beyond shock. He had been fond of her, more so than he was prepared to consider, and her departure had chafed. But love? Lucius was at a loss. She confused him. He didn't know how to deal with all of the brightness and strangeness that Daphne had brought into his life.
"I did notice, much may the knowledge please you. We... we will discuss this later." It wasn't a question, although she was free to disagree with him. Lucius had made as much of a concession as he could.
When the song ended, Daphne made no move to return to her seat. Assent, Lucius could only presume. He squeezed her hand gently, hoping that she understood – she always had, and Lucius hoped that she would continue to do so.
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