A/N: I hope that this chapter is all right, as well. And I guess this part is after the second book, in an (slight) AU situation.
"Others are merely mirrors of you. You cannot love or hate something about another person unless it reflects something you love or hate about yourself." –Unknown
Mirrors
Two
Lucius returned home all tired and grim, but the arrogance held its place as he opened the door and strode in, never allowing the weariness to show on his face, for if his servants knew that even the great Lucius Malfoy could get tired, his hold and dominion over them would fail or be greatly diminished.
HE gestured impatiently for a house elf to take his duster off for cleaning, and went to his room where his wife—tall, blonde and beautiful—laid in bed reading a book on Herbology. Contrary to what her image was to others, she was not dominated by Lucius, or even dim-witted and dull as others perceive her to be.
"Narcissa," he greeted as he shed his boots, going to the closet for a fresh set of clothes.
"Lucius." She lowered her book and nodded back, shifting so that her silk robe slid over her firmly-muscled thighs.
Lucius did not look at her. Yes, he admired her beauty, but it had been long since they had made love, and those times were of mutual needs rather than wants, and he knew that Narcissa had moved her legs merely to un-cramp them.
He took his clothes into the shower, and let the hot water wash over him. The water was oddly soothing, and he allowed himself a rare moment of peace and vulnerability that he granted himself little anymore.
He hated his position in the Ministry, which demanded that he made frequent appearances to the board meetings, but it gave him the power and wealth he craved, and his master Voldemort would not be pleased if he were to lose that position.
Lucius frowned. Voldemort.His master had been dead for so long, destroyed by that filthy Harry Potter, and was now without a bodily form, and none of them knew where Voldemort was now.
So why? Why did he still think of remaining loyal to one who was as good as dead? It couldn't be the power, he decided. Voldemort was definitely in no position to give power to any of his followers now.
So, what then?
He could think of no answer to his own question, and turned the tap off, toweling himself dry and exiting the bathroom.
Narcissa was still reading.
"Filthy muggle book," he spat.
"It's interesting," Narcissa shot back smoothly without looking at him.
Lucius grunted his disgust, feeling a rage rise up in him at a muggle item in his house. It gave him one more reason to hate Humans, who polluted his house with their things.
But Narcissa was a grown woman. If she wanted herself to be destroyed by their filth, he would not stop her.
He strode to the kitchen, noting that the hallways were dimly-lit and nodded in approval to himself. His dinner was already prepared, and as he sat down, he was already sticky once again from the heat and moisture of the accursed spring weather.
One annoyance opened a floodgate to the rest, so that his rage grew in him at Narcissa's book, and the unfinished meeting by the Ministry to stop a lunatic wizard.
Lucius snarled. He hated unfinished business. What he started, he finished, and that was why he remained loyal to Voldemort, he thought.
As he finished the last of his food, he thought once again of the rogue wizard. In truth, Lucius would like to set that wizard free at Hogwarts, but the Ministry had a certain reputation to maintain, or he would quickly lose the power it held.
He went quickly to his study, and shifted through the papers on his antique desk, glancing at all the suggested ideas on capturing that man.
He sighed. It was late, and much as he hated to admit it, he was weary and needed rest. He cursed the weakness of a body of flesh and placed his papers neatly back onto the desk.
After giving them a smirk, Lucius rose from his seat, ready to go to bed. He raised his head to check that all his things were placed neatly and in order, and his eyes caught on the picture frame at the far end of his table.
Unlike those of the muggle world, photographs of wizardry moved constantly, like the never-ending playing-rewinding-playing of muggles' videos.
The intense dark eyes of an eight-year-old Draco gazed back at him, and Lucius reeled to see that those were so similar to the Muggle boy's eyes, and the woman's. For a moment, an image of the boy replaced the half-sneering face of Draco, but the eyes…the eyes were the same.
Lucius growled softly. Another unfinished business: the two Muggles he had saved a few days earlier. He had left them in the hotel with some money, but he did not know their fates.
Darn all the unfinished businesses! He had to finish them, for being in the Ministry and a Death Eater taught him that things left unfinished returned to haunt their starters, and could become a danger.
He shook his head in defeat. He would go to the Ministry tomorrow and then back to the world of muggles again to look for the boy and the woman.
