The 10th Muse

by Calex

“. 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.” [COMPLETE]

3. Wrong

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 3: Wrong

When I decide something, I usually begin immediately to plan on what to do. I never dawdle; it has never been my style. I stayed low, but I planned. I plotted. I schemed. Somehow, I would have that titian haired beauty by my side, in my home, in my life and in my bed. For I dreamt. Of her. I could imagine her. Her skin would be pale, and smooth. Soft as silk to the touch, the only thing softer would be the cool fire of her hair. I could taste the honey of her lips, could feel the curve of her breast in the palm of my hand. I spent countless of sleepless nights in my lonely bed, tossing and turning against the cool silk of my sheets, unable to get the images of the two of us from my mind. My treacherous mind. My mind that would conjure up images of us joined as we should be, as God had made us to be. Imagining the heat of her honeyed core around me. Imagining the ambrosia of her on my tongue. Then I would stop myself. Not yet, no imaginings. I would not settle for that, I would bide my time until I could have what I so desired... and that time would be soon. Very soon.

Draco was leaving; he had opened a restaurant in London that was fastly becoming very popular. He was opening a night club with that friend of his from school, the Zabini heiress. I couldn't really remember her name... but it reminded me of fire, for some reason. Fire, like Virginia.... But no. No thoughts of her just yet. Fire... Inferno. No, that wasn't it. Blaze. Close. Blaise. That was it. Blaise Zabini. She had been a pretty girl. Slim, dark haired and dark skinned like her Italian descendents. Lush mouth, even then and mysterious dark eyes. I could see a tightness in Virginia and I knew she didn't like the two of them together. Alone. Even for four days. The day he had to leave, Draco kissed Virginia tenderly and told her not to worry.

"How can I not worry?" her eyes had been large and vulnerable. I had to check the urge to hold her. It was not very Malfoy of me to do so. I realised, with some shock, that I had gone soft. Turned like... Draco. But Draco's expression wasn't of tender loving, this time. There was an impatience to the set of his countenance, a tightness to his mouth.

"Blaise is a friend of mine, Ginny. You know that. We've been friends since Hogwarts; she's one of my closest friends."

"And that's the trouble," she said, softly. Draco let out and impatient breath.

"I don't have time for this, Ginny. You have to trust me. I am not going to cheat on you with Blaise. Don't you trust me?"

"Have you ever given me the reason to?"

Immediately after she said it, her eyes widened with shock, but although her face had gone sheet white, she remained stubborn, looking him down. Draco became completely still and I knew that he was close to losing that precious control of his.

"I'll ignore you said that," he replied, icily. "I'm going to attend to business in London. I'm sure father will keep you... occupied." With a curt nod at the two of us, he apparated away. Ginny collapsed on the floor and started sobbing and all I could do was stand and watch as tears rolled down her cheeks and her chest heaved from her powerful sobs. Finally, I walked over to her, reaching into the pocket of my tailored robes. I knelt in front of her, taking out a linen handkerchief and gently wiping away the trails of tears from her cheeks. Her sobs had called to little sniffles, by then, so when I finished cleaning her up, I silently handed the handkerchief over to her. She accepted it with a small sniff and delicately blew her nose. Her gaze dropped to her lap, where she began twisting the material between her fingers.

"I don't trust her."

"But you do trust him?" I'd asked her, gently. She nodded. Then she shook her head. Then she nodded. Finally, she let out a frustrated cry.

"I don't know! Before... before I would say yes, without a doubt. But now... he's acting strange. He's acting so strange. He's so jealous and... possessive and I don't know what's wrong with him. I don't know what I've done that's made him this way. He looks at me and I know that he loves me, but then he looks like I'm below him... sometimes he looks at me and I wish I could crawl under a rock and hide." She looked up and met his gaze. "It never used to be like this, you know. There never used to be fights. At least, not until you came back."

"Are you blaming this on me?"

"Partly, I think." She replied, but her voice had dropped and gone husky. I looked at her and suddenly realised how close we were. I was on my knees, now, in front of her. So close that our knees brushed and I imagined that I could feel her breath against my skin. "He gets so jealous of you, sometimes."

"Does he have a reason to be?" I asked, and my voice had gone low as well. A husky purr. Her eyes flew to mine, then her lids lowered and she was looking at me through her lashes, a temptress with a watery smile and a reddened nose, and I could take her right then and there on the floor. She didn't answer for a long time and I almost held my breath, my heart running a marathon in my chest. Finally, she tilted her head and when she spoke, her tone was solemn.

"He might."

And then suddenly she was close, suddenly she was there. Suddenly I could touch her. Suddenly her breath on my skin was real, instead of my imagination. Suddenly.... Suddenly we were kissing and her arms were on my shoulders and I pulled her body against me as I deepened the kiss further.

I don't know who broke from that kiss first, but all I knew was that as suddenly as it had begun, it had also ended. Ginny looked up at me, a scared look in her eyes and I tried to portray with my eyes that I meant her no harm, that although I didn't mean for that to happen, that I didn't regret it. How could I have regretted it? Even now the feel of her silken lips burned itself into my memory. She stood up abruptly and made stammering excuses before she fled and I was powerless to stop her. I just sat on my hunches in the middle of the hall, lost and for once, vulnerable.

Draco was going to be gone for four days. Four days. It was hard, trying to keep myself from seducing and ravishing the fair Virginia, but now that I've tasted her, I wanted her with a passion stronger than any before. It almost frightened me, this need. And I hated to be frightened. I had never felt this way with Narcissa, for with her it had always seemed so right, so peaceful. Like I'd found my other half. With Virginia I found passion, fire. We had not done anything remotely sexual since that kiss, but everything about her burnt me, burnt me into a crisp. I don't know how I would stand it, how I could stand it, how I did stand it. All I know is that it was the most wonderful and yet disturbing experience in my life.

Standing up, I'd unconsciously began to dust off my robes. Years of breeding. I stilled my movements and frowned, was this the right action? I know it was a trivial matter, just brushing off lint and dirt from my tailored robes, something most would have done. But suddenly that small, little thing seemed of great import. It felt like a matter of life and death. Finally, though, breeding won and I shrugged off the strange urge. In a distant part of my mind, I couldn't help but wonder where I would have gone with that thought.

Dinner was an awkward affair. Virginia had come down to join me and we ate in the formal dining room, the chandelier casting eerie shadows along with the light in the warm, wood panelled room. The table had been set for two; I sat at the head and Virginia at my left hand. Usually, Draco would sit at my right and his absence glared at us like an open wound. We ate quietly, manners put on show, albeit a brilliant one. Row among row of cutlery on either side of fine china and crystal glasses filled with the finest blood red wine available in my cellar. The chef had outdone himself and I made a note of it, calling over Higgs, the main House Elf that acted as Butler to present the Chef with my thanks. Then I sprawled elegantly backed in my chair, surveying Virginia.

She looked lovely, that night. She wore a deep green silk sheath dress that brought out the milky white of her skin and complemented the red of her hair, brilliantly. She wore white gold and emeralds around her throat and wrists and on her ears, her hair pulled up in some impossibly elegant design. She looked wonderful in Slytherin colours; I didn't think I appreciated it enough before. But I appreciated it fully as I watched her pick up her glass and take a sip of the full bodied wine. I spoke in a low tone and felt a frisson of pleasure as I saw the startled look on her face.

"I hope the wine is to your liking."

"Y.yes. It's wonderful."

"Higgs told me it's the best I have in my cellar."

"Then it must truly be wonderful, as you have a great collection," she murmured, politely. I inclined my head, accepted the praise. We were quiet again, I still watching her and she trying valiantly to turn away from my gaze. Finally, I dropped all civility and asked her what I wanted to know, what I truly wanted to know. Without any veils of pretence.

"Why did you run?"

"I... I beg your pardon?" she looked startled and just short of afraid. I shook my head and leaned forward.

"You heard me perfectly well, my sweet. I asked you why you ran, today. Most would take your reaction to mean that they have no...charms."

"I... I wouldn't like you to think that," she said softly, eyes downcast. Then she looked up and her eyes were neutral, as was her tone. "You know why I ran."

"Perhaps," I shrugged elegantly with one shoulder. "Perhaps. But I would still like to hear it from your own mouth."

"I can't do this to Draco, Lucius. You know that. By Goddess, you of all people should know that," she said and this time, her tone wasn't completely neutral. Emotion shook that voice and the hand that went for her wine glass. The sip of wine was larger than the ones she had taken before and I knew she was hoping the alcohol would help her through this. But I was not through with her, yet.

"You don't love him anymore," I said softly, watching her reaction. I wasn't disappointed. She jerked as if I had slapped her, her eyes going large and luminous.

"I... I..."

"Won't you even deny it?"

"I am!" she finally managed to say and her voice was filled with heat. "How dare you. How dare you assume that just because I let one moment of weakness rule me that I do not love your son. I love him no less, no less at all. He is the one who rules my heart, he is the one who holds it in the palm of his hand and has the ability to crush it at his will. Him. Don't you dare accuse me of not loving him." She looked at me with scorn. "At least I can say that much, I am not too sure you could say the same."

"I love my son, Ms. Weasley," I said, coolly. I felt anger boiling inside me at her comments. Anger and... jealousy. Jealousy of my own son. By Circe, she wasn't far off, wasn't far off at all. And that was what stung the most. I felt my body tighten with tension as we faced each other off. I offered her a cold smile, one I knew was effective. One I'd had to learn to use and use well. "If you love him so dearly, why allow a moment of weakness at all? Why the kiss, Ms. Weasley? Why the cheating? Why go behind my son's back and kissing his own father?"

Ginny's eyes were large in her now too pale face as she looked at me with some horror, some disgust and some anger. "You are an asshole, Mr. Malfoy. You are a manipulative asshole."

"I'm glad we got that sorted out," I said dryly, picking up my glass. The next thing I knew, I was drenched, my hair and clothes stained with the ruby liquid and the sound of heels clacking against marble filled my head. I sighed, closed my eyes. Tonight had not gone the way I had wanted it to, the way I expected it to. To be truthful, I did not know what to expect, but this... this was too much. But it was done. I don't know if we could patch things up between us. That night, I just did not know. So I cleaned myself with a simple spell and retired to my private study with a bottle of firewhisky. Locked in with my thoughts, my rampant emotions and my fantasies. Alone.

We didn't speak, not for the rest of the day or the next. She ordered to have her food taken to her room and spent her time there as well, with only a house elf as company. When I asked Higgs what she was doing, he replied that she was just... sitting on the bed, or gazing out the window. While I respected her wish to stay away from me, while I understood her need to stay away from me, I did not like the fact that she kept herself solitary, kept herself away. I tried to work, tried to drown my sorrows in Firewhisky, went to my wife's grave, anything that would keep my mind off of her. But it didn't work and she kept on creeping into my thoughts at the most inopportune moments. I had still tried to escape, though, still tried to run away from... from the inevitable, I suppose. Because it was inevitable, a confrontation. We had to have one soon and I knew it just as well as any other person might. I just... needed time to prepare myself, I suppose.

I kneeled on the damp grass by my wife's grave and stared at the carvings on the otherwise smooth marble. I laid a half opened black rose on her grave and a smooth red pebble on the white gravestone. There were three other similar pebbles on the grave stone itself, a small pile of it by one side, neatly piled, piled like a small mountain of stone... I'd done that, the careful gathering. The piling. The colours were brilliant, I also charmed the smooth stones into some bright colour. Narcissa used to love them, she kept a bowl in our room filled with the little pebbles I had collected for her and charmed. The bowl was still there, but I didn't touch them, like I didn't touch most of her things. I charmed fresh pebbles that I painstakingly found and cleaned beforehand. This time was no different, and I bore the evidence of this by the dirt on my otherwise clean hands, dirt that even then felt like it was clinging to my skin, unable to get out. I had fought the urge to clean them, for some reason. Usually, I would not do such a thing, but somehow...

"Do you blame me?" I asked quietly, at her grave. My eyes were boring into her name. "Do you hate me for what I feel, what I've done? I don't know what to think, Cissa. You were always my grounding and life was a little... lost without you. And then she was just there, and she wasn't like you. It was easy, for me. So easy. Too easy. I don't want to..." I shook my head, feeling... feeling lost. Vulnerable. Me, the Malfoy Lord, the man with his arrogance and self-importance. I was vulnerable, without my wife. Narcissa was silent strength, a well feeding me sanity, but she was gone. I didn't have her grounding, didn't have her there to tell me that all would be well. She was not there to tell me to stop thinking about Ginevra... although I do not know if I ever would have, had she not died.

"I watch her, you know. All the time. And I have rather... untoward thoughts about her. I dream of touching her at night, Cissa and while it feels wonderful, it also feels so wrong, to do that to you. I loved you, and I don't think I told you that enough." I sighed, laid a hand on the top of the gravestone. "Draco's joined the Potter boy. I'm glad he didn't follow Voldemort. I suppose it was your doing, Cissa. Really, dear," I chastised her gently, almost indulgently. "You know I don't approve of you manipulating our son like that. Especially when I'm not there to witness it for myself."

I couldn't help but chuckle, and remember the times when she used to do so, wrapping the impetuous boy around her little finger. Draco hated it, but he adored his mother. Cissa was just like that, she inspired adoration in her men. I adored her, as had her father and his father before him. Cissa made everyone love her, in awe of her. I never had that gift, most either feared me or hated me. None loved or even liked me. I think it must have hurt her, sometimes. She could not grasp why that was, could not grasp that not everyone was as generous as she was, could not grasp that not everyone had her gift, her way with people. Cissa was Slytherin, but she was a woman and a wonderful one at that. I loved my wife, loved her dearly. And I didn't know how long I would have lasted all these years without her by my side and I wonder how I should continue to do so without her.

"I miss you, Cissa," I whispered. "I'm not doing things right, I don't think. Salazar, I know that I'm not doing things right. I'm betraying our son with his own fiancée. You would never approve, dear. I know that. But I can't help myself. I just.. can't. Do you blame me, Cissa?" I looked pleadingly at her gravestone, then sighed. My wife wouldn't be able to answer me, she was dead. Dead and cold in her grave, while I was kicking my heels in Azkaban. Dead. And I hadn't even been there. I felt my jaw tightened and wished for a moment that Bella Lestrange was still alive and that I could kill her myself... with my bare hands. Still. I will not allow myself to wallow in dark thoughts. There was nothing that I could do, for the moment, or at all. Not to avenge my wife. My son had done that already, and his mother's murderer was now lying in a grave of her own.

I sighed again, let my jaw relax ever so slightly, then felt my shoulders slump in defeat. Ever in defeat. I, Lucius Malfoy, defeated. The great, fallen. Fallen down and down and down in the endless black hole that has become my life. I looked up from Narcissa's grave and saw the manor in front of me. I smiled bitterly as I noticed red glinting behind clear glass and knew that she was watching. The spot of flame, of light, in that dark hole. With that thought. I turned back to Narcissa's grave, pressed a kiss to my fingertips and laid it on her gravestone. I murmured our wedding vows.

"In sickness and in health

In darkness and in light

In pain and in health

In love and in hate

I will stay by your side, with you in my thoughts

I give you, my love, me,

Till death do us part."

With that said, I got up, again a creature of habit, brushed my robes of whatever evidence I had been to her grave, then walked away. Walked away from my wife and from our vows and I walked, walked, walked further away. I looked up and met red and glass and smiled faintly. Till death do us part, Cissa. Till death do us part. And we have parted, and we have lived, and died, and loved, and hurt together. And I have fulfilled my vows to the extent of that time. Now, my love has reminded me, I am free to move on. Free to get what I want. If only it just didn't feel so wrong.