A Broken Man
Why Should I love You?
Following their sumptuous meal, they retired to the Library. The House Elves had prepared an intimate area in front of the fire. A Large Leather Couch, a tray of Coffee and Pastries and a selection of Hermione's favourite books. Finty loved her young mistress so much, she willingly agreed to help 'Master Lucius, Sir' with these small details. Drowsy with rather too much wine and such fine food, she had inevitably succumbed to sleep. She was now curled at the opposite end of the couch, her small feet resting in his lap. He nursed his Cognac and sighed with contentment. Could he? Lucius Malfoy? The once feared and loathed Death Eater really have fallen in love with a little Muggleborn?
There was no denying the depth of his affection for her. From what was it borne though? Undeniably he owed her more than could ever be repaid. His sanity. Without this young witch he would have surely have succeeded in ending his life. He would not hold his position at the Ministry. Not that he was anything but a.. What was that Muggle expression? A Poster Boy!
He questioned whether he needed her, or just the sweet release of her body. She was young and unexplored. He would at one time have needed no excuse to take her, add her MudBlood maidenhead to his long list of conquests and possessions. He no longer felt that way but the conditioned thoughts came non the less. MudBlood; he hardly thought of her in those terms now, she had inured him against it, making him repeat the name constantly until it no longer affected her. The words held no painful meaning for either of them now.
He craved not only her innocence; something pure for once, but the knowledge of his life. Fully aware of his past and willing to accept that he had changed. He was no longer that person, he would never be that person again. Who was he fooling? He was still trying to convince himself.
She had spoken to him today, of how the old Lucius had died. That was true, is true, but on so many levels. He died the night his wife and son were taken from him. He died when he realised his principals and ideals were worthless. He died when his family would not forgive his defection even after their deaths and he dies every time he remembers his dismal past. There were no events he would willingly recall. The uncontrolled memories still came to him regardless.
Hermione's sleep fuelled mutters and mumbles anchored him in the present. Apparently she was still having problems with the Gringotts monopoly. He could offer to help her with that tomorrow, but he felt a newly formed Wizarding Bank of Great Britain was pushing just a step too far. Gringotts had held all wizarding accounts for centuries and was the safest place on earth to store anything. It would take centuries more to convince people otherwise. He understood her concept of 'competition results in a higher level of service for the Wizarding community'; but a ministry controlled bank!! He shook his head at the improbability of it all.
The possibility of 'persuading' the Ministers to vote her way could be an option. A cry of anguish escaped his lips. NO! What had that kind of life brought him? Nothing! That is why he was in this position now. A defective, lonely, old man, intent on seducing a girl less than half his age. He did not even have the excuse of wanting to relive his youth. He had not experienced this fervour in his youth, not for another person. He had always had the desire for power and he bought and intimidated his way into it.
Paradoxically, this little sleeping Muggle had placed him in the one position he'd been unable to attain despite all his machinations.
What had he to offer to one such as she? Unattainable as she was. He had his Wealth and Homes.? The prospect of never having monetary worries must be attractive to her? though he suspected her ministry salary was more than enough for her modest lifestyle.
Power, Influence and Position once everything to him were nothing to her. She had in all reality more than he, but how strong she is to not be corrupted by it, use it for the good of the Wizarding World.
Gods, she was the most damnable woman, the body of a goddess with the innocence of an angel and her mind, her mind was a firebrand. What a couple they would make! Now that the ministry was encouraging intermarriage and the prejudices of blood segregation being torn down. A Pureblood and Muggleborn Union at the highest level would lend credence to these new policies.
"Cease!" he inwardly told himself, shaking his head to free his mind of the traitorous thoughts. He had already been in one marriage of convenience, he would be not be party to yet another.
To be bound body and soul to this promising young witch however, would not be just a convenience. He wanted her with certainty, he'd wanted women before but this feeling of completeness, of contentment whenever she was near, now that was new to him. Is this how those Weasleys felt making their love-match? He has always thought such a thing contemptible and beneath him. Yet he felt as if no-one else on earth mattered in her presence. It was not unwelcome but he was still afraid.
Afraid of what would come. He was destroyed with guilt at the loss of his wife and son. He was responsible for their deaths and would carry that pain with him as long as he lived. There was no question that Hermione eased his self inflicted purgatory but... But what?
He would not put her in the danger his first family had faced. He would not lead her down the wrong paths. She would not let him, she had her own strength. He suddenly realised he thought of her as a member of his family already. She was, he supposed, the closest he had to family now. He needed her to know this. His infatuation notwithstanding, he was yet to discern if his feelings were reciprocated. What if she...For the love of Merlin! he was babbling like a love-struck loon.
Looking down at the sleeping form below, an unprecedented tide of emotion washed over him, he wanted to care for her, keep her from all harm, set her on a pedestal and Gods! he wanted her normality; children, grandchildren, generations of Granger-Malfoy's stretching into the future.
"Brooding again Lucius?" Hermione stretched cat like, removing her feet from his lap. "It appears the gastronomic delights you offered this evening have had a somewhat soporific effect! I do hope that was not your intention?"
She muttered a quick spell and warmed the coffee, kneeling on the floor she helped herself to another cup, raising her eyes in question to Lucius.
"To answer all those questions, I was not brooding, just mulling over a problem or two. I did not intend for you to fall asleep so soon after dinner and therefore be deprived of your delightful conversation and finally; I have my Cognac, Thank you," lifting his glass to indicate it's contents, "I was hoping you might join me"
"I do not have the palette to do justice to what is undoubtedly a fine vintage, I'm afraid. I'm happy with coffee, thank you."
"Perhaps you would allow me to teach you sometime?" The thought of his hand clasping hers round a balloon , gently swirling the fiery, mahogany liquid was gratifyingly erotic.
"I shall look forward to it on another occasion then Lucius, although I really cannot see myself as part of the brandy and cigar set," she laughed, "besides we seem to be making headway into bringing those 'old boy' walls down."
" I presume that is another of your delightful Muggle expressions that corresponds to our 'House network','" He smiled indulgently at her, finding unexpected joy in such simple pleasures.
"Enough Lucius, Please!! No Ministry talk this evening." Without pause she launched into her new subject, "Now, tell me what you were mulling over, it looked a particularly thorny problem."
"At the risk of being on the receiving end of one of your little 'talks', I was actually thinking of how my choices led my family to their deaths, among other topics, but particularly how I would not make that same mistake twice. If I were lucky enough to be blessed again." He looked straight into her wide chocolate eyes seeking encouragement and confirmation.
"Are you considering marriage again, Lucius?" she heard the catch in her voice even as she struggled to keep it light. He would not have missed it.
"That was one of the other topics I was mulling over" He had not missed the hitch in her breath, hope raised in his breast.
"Any Decision yet?" Again impossibly light but an undercurrent of tension. How can so much be conveyed in three words?
"I find I have not yet spent the required brooding time, another year or so should do it." he smiled knowingly. He hoped to ease the surprising tension now surrounding them, but did not want to appear flippant.
""I'm happy to wait." she said.
Resisting the need to gape open mouthed at her or beam from ear to ear, he simply said, "Sit with me?"
Authors Note; It was suggested to me that this chapter should have the alternate title of "Lucius goes off on one!!" However, I feel that his indecision is part of his present melancholia and daily torments, so worthy of inclusion. I also liked the expression of 'love struck loon ', from my previous authors note, so much that I had to include it; even though he probably would not have a clue as to what a Loon was.
Brandy appreciation, a balloon is the traditional brandy style glass. XO (extra old) Cognacs are generally much darker and richer in colour than younger less expensive versions. You cradle the glass in your hand allowing it's heat to slowly release the vapours and swirl gently watching the 'tears' (rivulets of liquid) run down the sides of the glass. The perfect accompaniment to contemplating your navel!!