Title: 10th Muse
Author: Calex
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, the character belongs to JK Rowling, who thought of them. I own merely the plot
Characters: Lucius, Ginny, Draco, mentioning of Blaise Zabini
Summary: ". Malfoy's share. We share all our glories and our downfalls. Mostly, we share our spoils and somehow, on that bright Autumn late afternoon, much brighter than usual for England, I realised that she was not a prize. That she was real."
Chapter 2: Temptation
The days passed by in a blur, little bits of the same. I visited Narcissa's grave, Ginny would be there. We'd exchange cryptic comments. She'd go back, I'd follow. We'd pretend we're a happy family in the face of my son. My son... Draco. He knows something is amiss. There was tension, there. His jaw is always tight when he sees me, but he is ever so gentle with her. Gentle. No Malfoy is gentle. We are genteel, but never gentle. We are dignified and we might even fall under arrogant. But never, ever, in the history of the Malfoys for the past century are we ever gentle. But there he is. Watching her and his eyes softens. He cares for her and cares deeply, and that makes me afraid. For him, for her, for me. For us.
The next step in the twisted plot of a story that has become my life is probably in the rose garden. I was outside, it was late and cool and she'd stepped out, hesitating only slightly when she saw me before she strode over. I didn't turn, didn't smile, didn't acknowledge her in any other way. Truthfully, it had nothing to do with planning and everything to do with the moon. I'd never really taken time, before, to look at the moon. Now that I have, though, I was mesmerized, I couldn't look away. There were so many pits and falls in there, shadows played by the light. It was a full moon and it hung low in the sky, teasing.
"The moon is just an illusion, do you know," I finally said, softly, not turning to her. She started, turned to look at me, but made no other move. "It doesn't have it's own light, just steals a reflection from the sun."
"Apparently," Ginny nodded, slowly. And that was it. She didn't say anything else, just joined me in admiring the moon. Her arms were wrapped around her body, keeping in the heat, I suppose. I wondered what on earth she was thinking, prancing about outside in nothing but a thin cotton wrap to cover her negligee. I turned to look at her, now, my attention diverted from the moon. She could feel my gaze on her, could see my body angled, facing her, but still she didn't turn, just stared at the moon, some. "It's low, tonight. Almost like I could touch it. Mum..." here she faltered, but then doggedly went on. "Mum always said that the moon brought an omen...and one like this was a bad one."
Ah yes. Molly Weasley. Her mother. I remember her from school days, of course. Molly was in Narcissa's year, a pretty thing with the Ginevra's hair. Although, if I remember correctly, she had taken to Diggory in those days. How things do change. I looked at Ginevra, and noticed her shivering. I sighed, slipped my wand from the pocket of my night robe and casted a warming spell on us. She turned to me, then, nodding her thanks. We stood in silence for awhile more, before I asked her.
"What are you doing outside?"
"I couldn't sleep," she said, softly. "And I was standing by the window. I...saw you standing alone."
"So you came out to keep me company?" I felt my mouth curve sardonically. "How wonderful of you."
"The night is hardly a safe time to be alone, in."
"Concern, I truly am touched." I looked at her and she met my gaze, this time. "How noble of you. Although, I have to say that I can take care of myself."
"No one is invincible," was the only thing she said. I couldn't say anything to that, for I knew better than anyone that she was right. Voldemort had thought himself invincible; he had been killed by a teenaged boy. I had thought I was invincible in my impressionable youth. I became a Death Eater. I held her gaze and didn't realize that some time had passed since she had spoken until she delicately cleared her throat. "What are you doing out here alone?"
"I couldn't sleep, either," I admitted. I turned towards the moon once more. "Narcissa used to be the lightest of sleepers and she would never need more than four hours. Couldn't sleep more than four hours. She used to go for a walk, and this would be her favorite place to do so. She always talked of how different everything is in the stillness of the night. How different the moon was. I...just wanted to see what she saw." I didn't know why I had told her all that, didn't know why I felt that I had to tell her that. I stole a look at her from the corner of my eye, but she didn't seem phased at the thought that Lucius Malfoy, evil Death Eater git extraordinaire actually had human emotion. I felt my lips twist bitterly at that thought.
"Do you...miss her? Your wife, that is."
I did not expect that question, although now, looking back, I think I perhaps should have. She spoke so quietly, so hesitantly, it was almost as if she was afraid of something, afraid of...me?
"Everyday," I smiled faintly. "Every damned day. Narcissa and I were sweethearts from school. I was her first ever boyfriend. Her first every anything, really. We were well matched. She was like the...the other piece of my...of my..."
"Your soul?" she suggested, quietly. My mouth quirked up at that. And I answered half jokingly, half deadly serious.
"I don't have a soul."
There was quiet and then I felt a light caress at my hand. I looked down and saw her hand hovering near my own. She was studiously looking anywhere but at me. I looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, before sliding my hand unceremoniously over hers. I lifted our joint hands and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles. I saw her smile, slightly. And suddenly... suddenly I felt that maybe I wasn't alone after all, that perhaps... perhaps I really did have, if not a soul, then something.
000
Ginny and I became...friends. Of a kind. It is hard to put into words what we are. I look at her and I feel...healed. She looks at me and she smiles, gets on with her life. It is frustrating, not knowing what she is thinking. She smiles, a little enigmatic smile, at me and I can't help but wonder but what's in that pretty little head of hers. But we don't talk about that. About why I'm suddenly... Lucius, and not Mister Malfoy, why she's Ginevra, but with a caressing tone. Why we talk, and talk, and can't seem to stop talking. Well, there are quiet moments between us, more often than not, to be perfectly honest. I...am not quite sure what this is between us, if there actually is something between us. She... looks after me, in a way. She's replacing Narcissa's place in my life, slowly but surely. I wonder what my dear wife would say, should she know what's going on in our lives. Did she approve of this match between our son and his fiancée? Did she realise... how much Ginevra looked like her, like Lily? Ah, Lily. I never... never expected it. Never wanted her life to end. Never... but ifs are dangerous, so I will not go down that road.
Despite popular belief, I was not always like this. Before...there was a time when I was as pure and untarnished as everyone else. Unfortunately, growing up in a life like mine, we learn early on to harden ourselves, if we didn't, we would be driven inexplicably insane. My father, may his soul (if he had one) rest in peace, was the one who had the unfortunate task of...showing me just how ugly this world of ours could be. And I sucked it in like the rest, gave the brilliant façade of indifference and elegance, of dignity and glamour that made so many among my peers hate me just for a mirage. I was not the man I portrayed, and yet I played him with such skill that many were fooled...I think myself, included. I thought I was that Lucius Malfoy, the cold, domineering, elegant man that had everything, the beautiful fiancée, the money, the class, the place in society... I had two lackeys, the fathers of the two who were my son's. I had followers. I had admirers. I had enemies. But I never had any friends.
It was too much, in those days. Very cloak and dagger. And yet I played along, although I hated every second of it, I played along until I couldn't tell playacting from reality, until I became the very thing that I hated. I became arrogant, I thought I had everything, after all, and in a sense, I did. And then my esteemed and venerable lord came and killed the two people who acted as my rock, as the stable points in my life. Funny, really. Demetrius and Catherine Malfoy were hardly steady, dependable people, at least not in the eyes of society. And yet they did steady me, and I did depend on them. And then he came and killed them, for not following him. And I was left alone, unprotected, stripped of all my pretences for once, faced with a true challenge....and I failed. I failed. I let my emotions rule, despite everything, everything that my father had taught me and went in to a stupid, stupid mission of revenge that made things infinitely easier for the Dark Lord to play me. It was so easy for him to use me, from there. He imprisoned me, took away my pride and my dignity, he drove me nearly insane and made me feel pain that I have never felt before, and I crumbled and I was defeated. Defeated. A Malfoy hasn't been defeated in centuries and I was the one who brought the family name down. I never felt as... helpless as I did, then. But I had no choice, none, you see. I couldn't do anything else. So I became the model Death Eater. I worked for a man I hated with an intense passion and I envied all those other fools who didn't have a care in the world except for their own trivial lives. They who didn't have the deaths of hundreds to burden what was left of their souls.
I was the model father, although I never showed public affection towards my son, all knew that I was proud of him, all knew that I held him in great care, along with my wife. They knew that, in a way, I did love them. They didn't know that there was no way, that I loved them as a man who loved his family would. They never realised that I was a normal man, a real man, just like the rest of them. At first, they didn't know about my duties as Death Eater, so they envied me the life of a ministry man, a man who had Cornelius Fudge's ear. The man who, really, made all the important decisions. They hated me for what they thought I had, hated me for things I had no control over. And when it was revealed that I was in the ranks of Voldemort, they had a field day, finally they could hate me for something tangible, they could hate me and not seem like the insipid fools they were.
However, I still had some modicum of power, even in prison. My son and wife were never exploited; I made sure of that, made sure of their livelihoods. And I suffered for it, but at least I had that comforting thought that my family was safe, that my own, my blood and kin were safe. That, I had to be satisfied with, at least. And in some dose, I was. Satisfied, that is. But I was Lucius Malfoy after all, I'd had everything. It's hard to settle for so little when you've had so much. And so I became the target of belittlement. But I endured. No matter how much it pained me, I kept silent and let them say their fill. But at least in that exercise, I retained my dignity.
And then I was let free. I was released. No one knew, if I took Draco's reaction to heart. No one. I was just....let be. They knew, I would bet. Knew about my son's...thing with Ginevra. No doubt they wished me to an early grave from the news. Of course, no one knew, no one knew that I never really...that I... that she reminded me of.... But that is not important. It isn't. It's not. It's just....it just is.
I make no sense, anymore. To all the world, I am still the same heartless bastard as I always was. Are they wrong? Or are they right? Have they always been right? About me, about my ideals? I used to let them think whatever they wanted, now I can't help but wonder... is it because what they think of me is true? Ah, but the more I think of this, the more I go around in circles. I get an...ache, sometimes. In my head. I've had the... the urge to go into muggle London. Yes... Maybe I shall whet my curiosity for that, at least. At least...
"Lucius?" Ginny's voice broke me from a reverie. I remember she was wearing green, that day. A big green sweater that just about swallowed her thin frame. Her hair was tied up in what is called, I believe, a "pony tail". Strange word, that, to liken a woman's hair to that of a horse's tail. But the muggles were always strange creatures. It's hard enough to try to second guess them, I've given up on it. Ah, she was still talking. I must have had a slightly glazed look in my eyes, for she stepped up to me and laid a hand gently on my arm. I looked down at it, thoughts flying into my mind at the speed of light. Thoughts, memories. Fantasies. I should stop there, I should have realised then, but I have always been a fool. I should have stepped away and left, should have.... Should have... but what ifs and should haves are never really any good. You can't do anything to change the past. What is done, as they say, is done. I might not have done anything at that particular moment, but I didn't not do anything, either. I looked at her, and our gazes held... only to be broken when Draco called for her. She looked away, a faint flush on her cheeks. I couldn't believe that I had made her feel that. Me. The ex-Death Eater. The man who had sent her soul to Tom Riddle.
"Ginny," Draco came behind her, slid an arm around her waist almost proprietally, a tenseness in his manner. He gave me a guarded smile and inclined his head at me. "Father." He looked towards Ginny, again. "Where were you? We were supposed to have that picnic outside."
"I saw your father in here, alone. I... I thought he might appreciate some company and... would like to join us?" she looked at me through lowered lashes and I couldn't help but to look at her as well. Draco's gaze merely snapped between the two of us, disbelieving. His mouth thinned, but then he turned towards me and his tone was polite, albeit more than slightly cool.
"Well, father," he said the word as though it was more than slightly forced. "How about it? We were planning on a little picnic outside. It would be most pleasant if you could join us as well."
I looked at my son, coolly. I knew he didn't want me there, knew that for weeks now, our relationship was strained. And I also knew the reason for it. Ginny. Me. Us. Whatever this thing was. It was driving my relationship with my son further apart and part of me grieved that. But I was still a Malfoy. I realised a challenge if it was issued. And I didn't resist them. I shot him a cold smile as I place a hand on Ginny's shoulder, looking all the while as though it belonged there.
"Don't mind if I do."
The picnic, as I had expected, was extremely awkward. Ginevra and I would talk and Draco would glare, then he and Ginevra would talk and I didn't exist. She tried, though, valiantly to bring all of us together. She should have known better, should have known that that wasn't possible. Sad, so sad, that father and son would be torn apart because of one woman. And she had done nothing wrong, nothing but let her eyes linger a little, nothing but let her tone soften towards me as it did towards Draco. She did nothing in the face of actions. She spoke, but spoke of things that were immaterial. But her tone, her voice, her face... an intoxicating blend that hinted, just hinted at something a little bit more.
There were no more picnics, although Ginevra did try to get us all to talk. It wouldn't work, could never work. She does try, though why I cannot imagine. We look at her, talk to her, hold her like two men vying for the same possession, like her fire, her beauty was a thing to be taken, to be owned and owned by us. She was pure, but she was also tainted. She wasn't snow or white, she had a darkness to her that the two of us held. Perhaps that is what drew us to her in the first place. Yes, drew us. I should stop pretending, or draw it out. For by that time I was inexplicably drawn to her. I wanted her like I wanted nothing else in my life. She was that drive that I strove for, looked for, hoped for since I found out about Narcissa's death. Narcissa... I still wonder, every day, every night what she would think about this situation. I can see her, serene and beautiful as ever, shaking her head at me from heaven, imploring me in that crystal voice of hers: why, Lucius? Why are you doing this? Why do this to her, to Draco to you, to all of you? But would she approve? Of the choice I made? For I had made a choice, had made it since I saw her like fire in my back garden with my son. When I realised she was not a thing. She was going to be mine.