Author: Calex

Rating: R

Genre(s): Darkfic/ Future fic/ Angst/ Romance

Characters: Lucius Malfoy, Ginevra Weasley, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Giuseppe Zabini (OC), Evangeline de Wolf (OC)

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." –Taken from the text

The 10th Muse – Hiding, Forgetting, Healing

Their screams ring in my mind. I have never heard him raise his voice, not since he was 10, and it was like a shock to hear them. The slam of doors and the tinkle of broken crystal was what was heard the most in our household, the next few days. There were tears, there were accusations and there was pain. I could feel the pain emanating like a live thing from them. I didn't need their pain, I had my own. I stayed in my chambers, or in my private study, but I strove to ignore them, strove to blank down on my own pain with drink. I didn't want to think, couldn't think. Why should I? Why? In those moments, I felt subhuman, I felt disgusting, I felt worthless and undesirable. I didn't shave, didn't clean myself. I was the most unkempt I had been when not in Azkaban and I didn't care. Malfoy idealism, who cared? Who really cared? They were all a group of so-called "gentlemen of value" with high handed notions who probably had their wands shoved so far up their arses that it nearly choked them. But I was just so tired, so bloody tired. I felt suppressed by all of my own childish fears, but I could not seem to stop them. I wished that she would just make her own mind, stay or leave because her presence still lingered and it just wouldn't leave me alone. The wounds that she had inflicted upon me still did not heal and the pain... oh the pain was just real, too real. I didn't know if time would ever erase them.

I had given her everything. In our short time together, I had listened to her, I had held her, I had wiped away her tears when she cried and held her when she was fearing. Despite giving up, despite giving my son what he already had... she still had me, everything about me. She had captivated me with her resonating light, but now... now I was bound by the life she left behind. Me. Her face haunts my dreams and her voice.... Dear goddess, her voice was chasing away all the sanity that I still held in me. I had tried, so hard, to tell myself that she was gone and I had to remind myself, daily, hourly, every goddamned minute and second that while she had been there... she had never really given me any part of herself, and that I had been alone all along.

I felt like screaming, like crying, like destroying something. I felt my mind being ravaged by my pain, by my betrayal, by my fear and I knew that the thread of sanity that I still held was slim, that I was going slowly and inexplicably insane. The crash of china and crystal was the crash of my sanity and my world around my ears. I was going mad, slowly mad, mad while I was still sane enough to realise it. I feared this power she had over me, feared it even as I still wanted her, craved her. I did the only thing I could do, I fled. I packed a few of my things and I left for Italy, to the Castello de Malfoy, the Malfoy Castle. I didn't leave a note to my son or to his fiancée, but informed Higgs to forward any messages I might get to Italy. I knew my son would be able to find me if he so wished, but right at that moment, all I wanted to do was to get away, away from him, and mostly to get away from her.

I spent my days familiarising myself with Italy, brushing up on my rusty Italian. At night I went to the opera, had dinner with countless of women that I would finally bring back to the Castello so that I would forget myself in their touches and their bodies. but I could not forget, did not forget. Anything, everything that I did was pointless, everything that I felt paled against what I felt with her. She had ruined me, ruined me for any other woman, to any other touch. I was a broken man, a man who had more money than sensibility in those weeks I was away. The weeks slowly turned to months, but still I wasted away the Malfoy money on drinks, food, women and gambling. Oh, but I have always been a great gambler. I had forgotten the rush I had used to get at gambling. I was good at it, I never lost. Or hardly ever, anyway.

Four months after I came to Italy, I had gone to a gambling club in the north of Florence with a few friends of mine. I had been there for a few hours, and I had slowly but surely accumulated a small fortune from my gambling. Then I heard the voice, heard the words, and my mind went blank.

"I'm so tired of being here

Suppressed by all my childish fears

And if you had to leave

I wish that you would just leave

Cause your presence still lingers here

And it won't leave me alone..."

"Lucius, you're on a roll, my dear man," Roberto Zabini laughed, clapping my shoulder but I ignored him as my eyes sought the source of the song. I found her standing on the stage, her eyes closed as that one spotlight shone straight onto her. her only accompaniment was a man playing the piano, but she held the muggle microphone as her body swayed gently with the song.

"These wounds won't seem to heal

This pain is just too real

There's just too much that time cannot erase."

Haven't I thought those words before, myself? Haven't I been through what this woman was describing with her song? I forgot everything and everyone around me as my eyes were locked on the singer, her smooth dark hair unbound to touch her waist, but I could see glimpses of creamy skin where the low back dressed revealed peeking shyly through that hair.

"When you cried I wiped away all of your tears

When you screamed I fought away all of your fears

And I held your hand through all of these years

And you still had all of me."

Before I even realised what I was doing, I gave a few murmured apologies and walked towards the stage and the woman. I sat down in the lounge and ordered a whisky, neat, from the waiter in a low, hushed voice, my eyes still on her. A house elf came up to me bearing my winnings and I distractedly took it from the elf, giving it a hefty tip in the mean time.

"You used to captivate me with your resonating light

Now I'm bound by the life you left behind

Your face still haunts my once pleasant dreams

Your voice has chased away all the sanity in me."

Those precise words, had I not thought of those precise words? Everything that I had been feeling up to that moment was in that song, all the confusion and the pain, everything that she had done to me reflected in the beauty of this woman's voice and the words to a beautiful song. Everything. And then suddenly, with that realisation... I realised that it was nothing. Words, mere words reflected my agony. If that was at all possible... the agony that I myself had believed was impossible to match was described, was shown in mere words. I laughed, suddenly, low and quiet so as not to disturb the other patrons, but I laughed. And I rejoiced at the discovery.

"These wounds won't seem to heal

This pain is just too real

There's just too much that time cannot erase.

When you cried I wiped away all of your tears

When you screamed I fought away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years

And you had all of me."

I ordered another whisky and I watched as she sang, as that rosebud mouth opened and that powerful and haunting voice poured over her audience. She was beauty, like a goddess sent from up above to release me from the prison of my emotions. Her presence filled the room and I watched how that little black dress of hers skimmed her body like water and knew it was silk. I wondered how it felt to her, against her skin. She wore diamonds on her throat and her ears. I watched her hands and was relieved at the lack of ring. I had too much of married women and affianced girls. Too much. It was time for a change.

"I tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone

But though you're still with me I've been alone all along.

When you cried I wiped away all of your tears

When you screamed I fought away all of your fears

I held your hands through all of these years

You still have all of me."

I watched her face as her voice caressed the words and felt the last tug of my heart at the words as the music gradually fell. When she stood under the spotlight, her chest heaving slightly from the emotions of the words she felt even as she had sung them, silence ruled until slowly, one deep clap resounded. Gradually, everyone clapped. There was no cheering, nothing, just the clap of hands around the room, but any more than that would have ruined the beauty of what she had just told. I was startled to realise that I had been the first to clap, but felt rewarded when she smiled at me. She left the stage and I sat down, nursing my drink as I turned her words around and around in my head and wondered at my own feelings towards them. What did I feel? Did I mind? What? What was it that I felt at the realisation that I was not lost after all. Another woman came on stage but while she sang beautifully too, I paid her no mind. My mind was busy with thoughts and I did not notice anything around me, anymore. When someone spoke, it took some moments for the words to be processed within my mind.

"Hello."

I looked up and saw... her. The beauty on the stage. She was still wearing that silk dress, but now her hair was pinned up. She wore the lightest of makeup, if she wore any, just a slight reddening to her lips and cheeks, some kohl to emphasise eyes that I realised were a strange light brown almost like amber. I smiled, slowly, as I saw her and I gestured to the seat in front of me. She took it, graciously, and she watched as the woman sang.

"I've seen you around," she said, quietly. "You don't come to the club for the shows, just for the gambling."

"Usually," I shrugged. "It's what I'm good at."

"Oh, I've been told," she laughed. "The man that's never lost. You're losing the club a lot of money, sir."

"Oh?" I raised my eyebrow as I took a sip of my whisky. I wondered who had sent her to me, and wondered if it had to do with the amount of money I had won. I decided to ask her. "So have you been sent to warn me against any more gambling, then?"

She burst out laughing and it was surprisingly (or not so surprisingly, considering her singing voice) a husky laugh that made a smile slowly creep onto my face as well. She shook her head a stray strand of hair fell to brush her face. She left it there as she smiled at me, amusement lighting those eyes of hers, the amber.

"Hardly. But people talk. My name's Evangeline de Wolf, but most just call me Angel."

"Lucius Malfoy. Lucius." I said, automatically and she stuck out her hand. I took it and pulled it to my lips, just brushing the tips of her fingers against my mouth. She didn't blush, took it as her right and I found myself... liking that. Her straightforwardness. It was refreshing, especially after... especially after Ginevra. I felt my eyes darken as memories swamped me. Her hand curled in mine and I looked up, surprised, seeing the concern on her face.

"You came for the song, Lucius?" she asked, quietly and I nodded. The hand tightened around my for a little bit, then relaxed. She offered me a smile that wasn't pity, wasn't exactly sympathy... but just said that she understood. It was comforting, it was better than if she had gushed out how sorry she was about what I had been through. I tightened my hand around hers for a split second, an encouragement, before I let go.

"You sang beautifully," I said, truthfully. She laughed again, that throaty laugh. She shook her dark head as her eyelids lowered. She looked like a woman who was used to getting compliments, but there was nothing complimentary in my tone, I had stated it as simple truth and I could tell that that pleased her.

"One of the few things I'm good at," she smiled. "One of the very few. What brings you to Italy, Lucius?"

"Running away," I said, quietly. "Forgetting. Now, healing."

"And has it worked?"

"Truthfully?" I smiled. "It didn't for a while. Forgetting, that is. I succeeded in running away. And the healing didn't come, either. Until now, that is."

"Why do I have a feeling you're not talking about my wonderful presence before you?" she asked, dryly, and I laughed.

"Partly, I supposed. Then again, I have a feeling that you're an intelligent woman. Mere words, my dear, capture such depth of emotion that one thinks is bottomless. And that is healing."

"Realisation?"

"That," I inclined my head, accepting it. I realised that we did not speak coherent sentences, merely riddles, but we had spoken more to each other than she or I had to any other with long words strung along to make long sentences. I looked over at her and she at me. She didn't smile and neither did I, but I marked the experience as something important in my life, for it was. "Who was the song by?"

At the question, she laughed. "A muggle group. Evanescence. The words to their songs are wonderful, and we in the magical community overlook the power of words, sometimes. What good is life if there is no way to express it in the form of art, music or words?"

"Words! Mere words! How terrible they were! How clear and vivid and cruel! One could not escape from them. And yet what subtle magic there was in them! They seemed to be able to give a plastic form to formless things, and to have a music of their own as sweet as that of viol or of lutes. Mere words! Was there anything so real as words?" I murmured. "Oscar Wilde, Picture of Dorian Gray."

"A fitting quote," she said, shrewdly. "You have a penchant towards muggle things, Lucius?"

"Not before. Now... I find myself with a taste for them," I laughed. "What are we if not muggles with a gift?"

"Yes," she murmured. "What." I glanced towards her and noticed that she did not have a drink and called over the waiter. I looked towards her and felt my brows lift at her choice of drink. "Vodka martini," she sent a sidelong glance at me as she added the last line with a quirk of her mouth. ""shaken, not stirred"." I felt myself laugh and the waiter looked confused, but we waved him away. I turned to her, humour quirking my mouth.

"James Bond," I accused her. She inclined her head, accepting it. I looked at her and wondered if she would be open to a little preposition. I felt my mouth quirk in a sardonic smile and she looked up, her eyebrow lifted.

"If you'd ask, maybe you'd know," she said, softly. I didn't ask how she knew my thoughts, didn't want to know. I leaned over the table and picked up her ring less hand and traced her elegant fingers with a blunt fingertip. I swept over smooth skin and graceful, tapered length and turned the hand around to trace my finger over the network of lines on her palm, then down to the blue veins visible under the fine white skin of hers. I felt her pulse under my fingertip, and when I looked up to meet her gaze, I found that hers was steady, looking at me.

"I was wondering what your reaction would be to a preposition from me."

Her lips curved. "How delightfully phrased. I think I might just have to keep you." I threw my head back and laughed. The other patrons looked our way at my laughter, but I didn't care as I saw her mouth quirk. I lifted that white hand of hers and placed a kiss on her wrist, over the leaping pulse.

"And I think I might just let you."