Chapter 2 Love, ghosts, and promises

Lucius, 26 months after, Malfoy Manor

The loneliness grated on Lucius. Narcissa had died two years ago tomorrow; and she had been right an all counts, he needed to find a suitable witch, but wasn't willing to settle for less than Cissy. He remembered that embarrassing day when she had asked him to marry Miss Granger; the naughty witch, he missed her.

He had thought he needed someone older; a witch who was a lady while around others but behind close doors, his own private story. Leave it to Cissy, she had been right, there was only one witch that was set apart from all others, and that was Miss Granger. She only had one major shortcoming, not her blood; it was being Draco's love interest.

How he wished he had agreed, and he was sure that Cissy would had extracted a promise from Miss Granger. These were his thoughts when he felt eyes looking at him; somebody was looking, around the left chimney. And he knew whose eyes, Narcissa's. It was her ghost telling him to go and get Miss Granger; just as she had promised, she had stayed behind after failing to extract a promise from either one.

HAlthough she never said anything, she always seemed sad and would point at her shoes. He had given it some thought and decided it was a symbolism, she wanted to leave, whereby she always pointed at her feet; of course, it was sign-language to indicate her desire to be gone. Hermione hadn't seen her yet, but he suspected it wouldn't be long. Not that he minded, by now, he would love a little help.

She pointed to Draco, afterwards she moved her head as if in exasperation, and she made a sign as if to whack Draco's head. Cissy was right, Draco didn't deserve her.

He looked again, and Cissy was gone. He wished to be able to talk to her, but maybe it was better not. It crossed his mind that he was imagining her, and he was probably right.

Back to the group he was observing; Draco, several of his friends, and their respective girlfriends. Draco now played professional Quidditch. He had invested his Black inheritance to purchase the Cannons, and talking about nepotism, he had hired himself as the team's seeker. He was surprisingly good, and, now they were in for third place. It was really an amazing climb from their consecutive 15th place during the five preceding years.

Draco and his friends sat by the fire. Miss Granger, who dressed exquisitely, dutifully sat by Draco and didn't appear to be very happy. Narcissa had willed her a large collection of exclusive timeless robes, all with matching handbags and shoes, many brand new, several of her coats, and a large collection of her most modern jewelry. At first she had refused, but Narcissa made her promise to wear them with teary eyes.

Narcissa had asked Lucius to have them tailored to the young witch; tonight she wore one of the robes with a Muggle belt, Muggle tights and matching leather boots, she looked divine. No matter, Draco's eyes were fixed on the new slag sitting on Flint's lap.

"What a vapid beauty," Lucius mumbled softly, not as if they could hear him with the loud music being played.

Lucius grabbed a scroll pad and wet a quill to write a check list.

-Blond= check

-Buxom alert= check

-Long legs= check

-Blue eyes= check

Under the word eyes, he wrote 'moo' and drew a cow. His drawings were quite good if he said so himself.

Yes, empty cow eyes, bovine, to go along with those jugs that soon would hang to her knees. His thoughts made him smile and remembering his list, he continued. He was having a little fun, even if behaving out of character.

-Robe, tight, at least four sizes too small= xxx

-Giggles innately to Flint's joke=x –

Note: Flint has troglodyte brains; Flint Sr. is rumored to be half-troll, a rumor clearly proven by his flesh and blood full-grown-troll.

Ok, now let's observe Miss Granger.

-Bored= YES.

-Angry = Of course.

-Wants to be away from here= Please!

"Draco, I am going out for a stroll, maybe one half hour. Would anyone care to join me? It is brisk and invigorating, any takers?" He put the scroll down and thinking better, he put it inside his pocket.

Draco was the first to answer, and Lucius nearly harrumphed at the thought of Draco coming along.

"Father, I'd have loved to join you if I wasn't totally knackered from playing so hard today. It took it all out of me!" He stretched his legs as a cat and twisted his body to stretch out; his intent was clear, to fully display all his muscles, and his beautifully toned body.

How transparent, pompous fool, Lucius thought, as the blond melted at the mention of the game, a groupie, he concluded.

"Mr. Malfoy, I could use a walk just about now, you must have read my mind." It was the voice belonging to the one Lucius had wanted to entice.

Lucius had to control the smile about to come up to his lips. Everyone looked towards the pink fire place, they were all sure they had heard, "Hurrah."

"Father did you hear that, it sounded like mother, I think she said hurrah, nah," Draco asked and then shook his head.

His face was a bit pale, one thing was a ghost at Hogwarts, and another was his mother's ghost. She had told him if he acted poorly she would haunt him. A cold feeling ran along his back.

Draco's self-preservation nearly awoke, why was his father inviting his witch? Alas, his cock squelched any remaining smart thoughts. Just as Lucius had predicted, Draco's cock wanted the slag.

"Princess, don't stay out too long, you promised me and what will I do alone? Are you sure you want to go out? I don't want to start without you. That is no fun, you are so talented." He made a pouty face.

The blond giggled, and Lucius' fingers itched to pull out his wand and sting his insolent son; what was wrong with Draco.

You didn't talk to your nice girlfriend like that, much less in front of all these miscreants, and just days after asking Lucius for advice when to ask her to marry him, indeed. He could see Miss Granger's tormented eyes, she hadn't miss the stupid display.

"You could join us," Flint volunteered with a lecherous smile, "and Hermione could join us later, it sounds as a most definitively great idea?" He looked at Draco's witch with hungry eyes.

Draco, you do it at your own risk, I wouldn't dip my wick after the trash he hangs around; just as well go and stick your prick in a public toilet. Right after Lucius had that thought, he became afraid for Miss Granger.

Surreptitiously, he pulled his wand, and sent Draco a compulsory to stay away from the blond or anyone that his teammates had touched. He so wished to take the witch away from his son, it was hard seeing how his son treated her with such lack of respect and consideration. He once again remembered Narcissa's prophetic words about her own son.

"Dream-on," Hermione answered appearing a bit mortified. She was aware his friends had little respect for her; they still saw her as the Mudblood. And she knew Marcus' continuous attacks had one goal, to get into her knickers. No wonder, she could hardly blame him, Draco discussed their sex life in mixed company and boasted of her sexuality; even when he knew it bothered her. It was some twisted game, to show them she was his alone, and she was one hot witch.

"Ata girl, you are my witch, only for my pleasure. Flint, she isn't a treat. Moreover, if you want to keep your bollocks make sure your hands stay off my witch."

Draco smirked nastily and pulled her towards him and gave her a suffocating snog as he squeezed her rump a little too hard.

Hermione pressed her hand right over his groin. Albeit she was only trying to get up, the impact of putting her weight on him extracted a pained groan from Draco.

Hermione didn't smile as she walked towards Lucius, he did. He was taking her away from the undisciplined pups' den, and having seen what she had done, he smiled after he turned away from his son. He had the inkling it hadn't been an accident.

"You need a coat, it is cold outside." His voice was tender and caring.

"I will be fine," she said without conviction. Getting a coat was not a good idea; she didn't want to go upstairs and inside Draco's room.

He was presently looking at Flint with bête noire, and she knew the drill by heart. First, he would have to do the alpha-dog thing by running after her; once they reached the room he would shag her roughly against the wall and would bite her neck several times; he would even draw blood, to mark her. And later in bed, some more of the same, maybe even a session of not so playful spankings, too hard to be pleasurable. Tomorrow, she would be sore, bruised and unhappy.

Yes, that was his current modus-operandi, whenever anyone dared to approach her. It never failed after his bragging around his mates, portraying her as a talented and insatiable sexual gymnast.

Unfairly, she took the brunt of the aftermath of the wizards' advancements spurred by his actions. Every time, she was the chosen outlet of his angry sexual energy— it was as if he intentionally taunted a pack of wild dogs with live prey, and when they stepped forward, he would punish the prey.

Once, during a rough session, he had cracked one of her ribs, and for a couple days she could feel a hot and painful area in her back, but couldn't figure out what it was.

She had gone to Justin, her colleague, for treatment, and he had reprimanded her after seeing what turned out to be the infected bites.

"Hermione, why do you allow it? This isn't a demonstration of love; this is dominant obsessive behavior, this isn't for you. Why do you do it? I just don't get it. It isn't as if he is the only choice, why do you stay when so many wizards would be proud to call you their witch? "

Now, she treated herself, but she hadn't forgotten Justin's question, why? She wished to confide in someone, a good friend. No, they would all judge her and behave just as Justin had. She was a graduate psychologist, working at the Center she helped make reality, and she couldn't solve her own problems; she was just like Harry and Ron, damaged.

Lately, she couldn't forget Narcissa's words, "Darling, he is too much a Black wizard. They all are witches' hounds, and a few of them have been known to use the switch once too often. Believe me, I saw my poor mother, and I heard from others. Be careful my dear girl, I saw what it did to my mother and to my aunts, and I won't be here to guide him. I don't want you to get hurt."

Hermione looked at Lucius, he was truly a beautiful wizard and his manners were perfect, just as Narcissa had told her.

Draco was also handsome, yet he lacked something, Luna Scamander, and Pansy Weasley had hit the nail on the head, he lacked character. He was in a rut where everything was Draco-centric. She could see glimpses of his former Hogwarts' persona, one she didn't like then and even less now.

"Miss Granger," it was Lucius, he was dressed in dark woolen trousers, a heavy pullover, and a fur lined leather vest with a hood. Just unattainable, she thought, wizards like him didn't like her. He had changed considerably after the war, and even more after Narcissa's death, he was less acerbic and his ambitions less apparent.

"I am sorry; I was wool gathering, it has been a long day." She tried to excuse her spacing out.

"Don't worry, I just came back," he carried one of his jackets which had the sleeves folded twice.

"I cannot make it fit, it would be ruined." He explained, "Dragon leather and this type of fur don't respond well to magic, the jackets are made the old fashioned way, mostly by hand."

"Here, my dear, are you ok?" She seemed distant, no wonder, Draco had mistreated her in front of those fools; if Cissy had been alive she would have disowned him. He would talk to him about it, what Lucius had just witnessed was in poor form. "Try it; you can wear this one, the sleeves are ready."

The short jacket hit under her knees. He smiled at the way she looked, a girlfriend wearing her beau's jacket; "Perfect," he declared. The two wolfhounds waited by the door. He offered her his arm, "Shall we?"

The jacket held his scent, his cologne, his Lucius aroma, the mixed fragrances surrounded her. She had to control a shiver running along her body.

Narcissa's confidences were now on her mind all the time; nearly a year had passed from the time she became really aware of him. Unsuccessfully, she had tried to ignore her growing attraction. Thus, it was unbearable when he looked at her with pity, like he felt sorry for her. The nerve, she wanted to ask him why?

They walked in perfect silence for twenty minutes or so. He walked on her right almost stuck to her, the path was narrow and maybe that was why. However, his proximity was playing games with her sanity.

Unknown to her, he was having his own problems dealing with her hand which held his arm, and he held close his chest. His thoughts were carrying him into self-forbidden lands. When her hip touched his, currents of desire ran through him, hardening his body and making his mind full of her.

"Mr. Malfoy, I would like to ask you something."

"Yes," one of his usually monosyllabic responses to her.

"Why do you feel sorry for me? Please don't deny it, because I can see it in your eyes." The coward she was, avoided any eye contact. Throw a stone and hide quickly by looking the other way.

The question surprised him, pity? He decided to grab the bull by the horns, even if he was tongue tied around her. A fact noticed by many to include Draco, who had eyed him suspiciously more than once. He remembered a recent conversation with his son.

"Father what is up with you and my witch? I am not sure I like your eyes following her all day long; and I notice, you cannot make a complete sentence when you talk to her. You really need to go back to Mrs. Wackspoon; she is a traditional matchmaker, a reputable and successful marriage broker. Must I remind you of my intention to marry her?" Draco protected what he owned since infancy, no surprise there.

He stopped walking and stood in front of her, "You have obviously misinterpreted my looks, and it is not sorrow you see, at least not for you. Do you want to know what is what you see?" His voice was lower, smoother, and rather intimate.

He held her arm pulling her towards him, and her heart began a wild ride.

"Do you remember when Narcissa was dying at St Mungo, the talk a couple months before she left us?"

There were solar-powered lamps along the path. A present from Hermione, which everyone liked so much that Malfoy industries now produced them, with a bonus, they incorporated a levitating spell. Their glow afforded him good lighting to see her face and a lovely blush spreading along her cheeks.

His voice had the feel of the jacket's fur lining, of hot, thick syrup being spread. She could actually smell him, and her knees were getting weak. He had lit a flame of desire which burnt hot.

"I was outside when she told you about our first kiss. It was all true, and what she said afterwards it was also true. I am good at making money, choosing the wrong leaders to follow, and letting my blood pride run away with me."

He forced-out a self-deprecatory laughter and lowered his head trying to see her eyes; he just needed a little luck or a ghostly hand. Narcissa, love, if you are here this is a good time to help me.

After a short minute, he continued, "What I'm not good at is knowing what is good for me. My parents loved me dearly, and they shopped carefully to find a wife to suit me, they knew if it was up to me, I would still be single. Witches terrify me and don't make that face."

He chuckled at the way she was looking at him, with her eyes half closed, her lips pursed, and the eyebrows knitted, a perfect look of incredulity at his statement.

"You have gone out with entirely too many witches these past three months to be a terrified wizard," she told him accusatorially; her eyes were full of hurt; her bottom lip trembled; and the overall look made his heart squeeze painfully.

"You are quite correct my dear, but I didn't arrange it. Draco signed me with a reputable matchmaking and marriage brokerage service." He moved closer to her.

"You are joking, right? There are social sites in the internet, some for magical people, where..." he interrupted her by raising his hand.

"It is a traditional service; many families use it, particularly when they live on the continent, and, perhaps, away from a magical community. So, as I was saying those witches were all wrong. I filled out many formularies; I actually hired someone to fill them out for me. And again, refrain from speaking, I told the wizard my answers."

His eyes searched for any response, her expression was reproachful and still not quite convinced.

He stopped walking to look at her, "Before I answer your original question, I want to know something, please be honest with me. Are you happy with Draco?" His voice had reverted and sounded all business and short; the silkiness was no longer there, the usual.

The reality was different, he could hardly talk and this was the best he could do. The realization of her interest on him, and her body's closeness had worked as an accelerant on his feelings. He wanted to press his body against her, and relieve some of the need consuming him.

"Happy, I don't know I am not really sure. I thought I was." Her face was very warm, and she was glad they were now walking by the path covered by a tree's canopy, not much light around; nevertheless, she could feel his eyes scrutinizing her.

He turned her around gently with one hand, and he took his glove-off to touch her face. His fingertips traced the contour of her face before lifting her chin so he could see her eyes; his fingers left burning trails along her skin, then he passed his knuckles over her lips.

He let go as if his fingers suddenly hurt, they didn't, instead they were tingling with a strange energy. He quickly re-gloved. The significance of taking his glove-off wasn't lost on him. He was losing a reign over his feelings, and his control was getting away from him. He was desperate for the feel of her bare skin against his.

"Please answer, I am waiting and only you can tell me what your eyes mean." Her voice had an urgent edge.

"I haven't answered because I'm unhappy with Draco's behavior towards you. I often wonder why you allow it. And before I answer I need to understand." He saw pure surprise written all over her face. She clearly wasn't expecting this.

"Hmm, I see you don't understand my interest. I might have disagreed with you many times, and there is little sense in revisiting the Dark times, during those years when my mind was muddled by faulty ideologies. Albeit of my prejudices, yes even then, I admired your intellect and understood your worth; we all did, even Voldemort who knew Potter would be nothing without you. I heard other Death Eaters, more than one was willing to overlook your blood for a chance. So how can you be so blind?"

She was looking at him puzzled, "Blind, how is that your answer? Are you telling me you look at me as if I am blind?" Her mouth was dry, her heart was galloping, and her body was responding to his nearness.

He moved a step closer, and she moved one back. He pulled her towards him and wrapped his arms around her. His body pressed onto hers. His chin was above her head, so he leaned forward slightly and contentedly rubbed his chin against her hair. Time stood still for them.

He could feel her body shivering, as his was doing the same. Her arms hanged by her side, but she wasn't pushing him away; it was a good sign. Eros, god of love, look upon me favorably by granting me the joys of her body, and the sweet honey that is only hers, he prayed. I want to taste her, to have her come under my tongue's ministrations, please.

Gods, he felt so perfect. Narcissa had been right, they fit, and furthermore, it lacked the awkwardness experienced with Draco. With him, she always felt inadequate, like something was missing; strangely, other Draco's former witches had used the same words.

She remembered when she had been head over heels in love with Draco. Their love started while taking care of Narcissa, and he wanted to marry her, but the Quidditch came, and he had wanted to wait.

She had the feeling, or maybe more than a feeling, that Draco had cheated on her more than once; thus, unknown to him, she used a special protection. No more thinking about Draco, this felt perfect.

Lucius just held her, and his hands gently rubbed her back. He didn't want to move and ruin the moment. His body had reacted in a rather strong way at his bold move, and if she had noticed, it was probably not a problem. After all, she hadn't moved away.

He was trying very hard to stand still, when all his body wanted was her warmth enveloping him. His thoughts were of the witch lying naked; her legs opened, her eyes fixed on him, his cock right outside of warm sex, her folds glistening with her arousal, beckoning him. His breathing was hitched, as currents of lust travelled along his body, and her scent lulled his senses.

Stop it, Lucius enough. He wasn't allowing himself to think in such concrete terms. Otherwise, he would demand she left Draco and take her into his bed. The idea of the naked witch, her skin against his, left him needy. Now, he wished, more than ever, that Narcissa had extracted a promise from the witch.

"She was right, Narcissa knew me, all I want lately is to kiss you, and every day is a Yule ball, and you are the witch who comes with me. Now you know, it is desire, not sorrow. You see, I am drowning in you. Hermione, look at me."

His voice was no longer gentle and instead rougher and deeper; it had a cadence she didn't recognize. His hand reached under her chin, he bent his head farther, she stood on her tiptoes, and her hands went around his neck tangling his silky hair around them.

Their lips touched gently, he was reveling in the texture, he took her bottom lip into his, sucked it slowly, and his hips pressed harder onto hers, at once, she was aware of his arousal and boldly pushed into him as he moved her against tree trunk. With her back against it, he, shamelessly, thrust his hips seeking increased friction.

Her calf wrapped around his, and for a minute, just pressing on his erection, was nearly enough to bring him release. He wasn't thinking, he wanted more; his tongue was just touching her lips asking for entrance when he stopped. As if his senses had returned and his movements halted.

He wanted to kiss her and that was only the start, however something held him back. He concentrated and knew, someone was looking at them, they were no longer alone, and where had the dogs gone?

He put a finger to her lips, which made her more upset, was this a prank; maybe someone was spying; or was he trying to see if she was worth his son? And she had rubbed herself against him as some slag.

He whispered on her ear, "Love, I am dying to kiss you, to be with you, however, someone is watching us, I feel it and it isn't friendly. Please trust me it is one of my gifts. Hold me tight, and tell me, 'not here, let's go to the house,' have your wand out, and I will do the same with mine."

She felt the eyes piercing her back, someone was watching them and he was right, it wasn't friendly at all. Being inside appealed to her, Draco might be in bed, and she wanted to explore his arousal. She hoped it wasn't a Death Eater's attack.

Sitting upon a tree branch near them, two not very solid figures laughed. The couple was Narcissa and Rodolphus.

"I must commend on your evil eye, it is rather dreadful. Well, they need to be near a bed, it will be much better. Knowing Lucius and his sense of fairness, their sensual dance and kissing here would only lead to guilty consciences, good idea, or at least I hope so, maybe we should have let things run their course." She patted Rodolphus' cheek.

"Years of practice, being married to your sister made it necessary, it was survival, forgive me for saying so. I am glad she was sent to another address. Let's go and follow, I am anxious to meet my daughter; we need to get them married so we can move on to the next place. We both need to apply our mental energies to drive them into each others-arms."

Rodolphus looked at Narcissa with his eyes full of longing.

"Remember that summer you came, you were around eight years old? I have been in love with you ever since."

Rodolphus wanted a chance with her, "I had to stop loving you, or so I thought because it was torture to see you with Lucius. Poor my parents, they weren't allowed to ask for you since Bella marked me as hers, lucky me. Rabastan was angry, as you know you were also his choice. Did you love me?"He wanted to know. It was his right after so many years with that mad-witch, he deserved an answer.

"You know the answer; this isn't about us but about doing something right." She didn't want to answer, darn wizards, she needed to concentrate, Lucius needed to be taken care off, she needed to change the same clothes day after day, pronto.

"You wouldn't have become pregnant if you hadn't loved me. I was able to keep that fact from your sister, the memory block worked. Did you know that I couldn't have impregnated you without our mutual love? I thought I felt your response, and, look at me Narcissa Black!" He was getting mad, after a life time of denial he had it.

"Rodolphus, we cannot lie here, so, yes, I never stopped loving you. I must be a naughty witch loving two wizards, well three if you count Rabastan. Yes, I must confess, I knew it was 'rape,' and you don't have an orgasm or several when you are being raped." They both laughed, he held her hand, it didn't feel like much, but he knew it would change when they would finally leave to the next place.

"The wait for Lucius will be long, and I wouldn't mind the company. Please think about it." Rodolphus crossed his ghostly fingers behind his back.

"I will," she leaned on his direction and gave him a quick peck,"but first we need to do our job." She smiled coquettishly.

"Where do you think Bella was sent to? Do you think she was sent back, given a second chance? I surely hope we don't meet her along the way, and she is you wife." They both looked worried.