Cho's Chic
Chapter 8
It was a beautiful hot, lazy summer afternoon. It was also Sunday, so Cho's Chic was closed. Cho was at her Chang grandparents' house, relaxing in their large garden. She had found a secluded spot in the oldest part, the Walled Garden, well away from her younger cousins who were playing noisily on the manicured lawn next to the house. This place was a natural sun trap, and she was half sitting, half lying on a sun lounger, wearing only a pair of bikini briefs, alternately reading a magazine and dozing. There was no breeze, and the sultry day made Cho loath to move. She wriggled hedonistically in the sensuous warmth, and her eyes drooped. She was between sleeping and waking when she felt she was being watched, and her eyes opened suddenly.
Lucius Malfoy stood before her. His expression was unfathomable. Cho felt naked under his gaze. In truth, she was wearing very little indeed, but it was the intensity of his look combined with the fact that he was fully dressed himself, even if it was in light summer clothes, that made her feel so exposed. Unconsciously, she crossed her arms in front of her breasts. Lucius lifted a sardonic eyebrow. "Hello, Lucius," said Cho, uncertainly. "What are you doing here?"
"Your grandfather invited me. We're engaged in a business transaction at the moment." Lucius looked around very ostentatiously. "No Weasleys hiding in the bushes today, my dear?"
"No, Bill isn't here today. He has been here though. Grandad likes him a lot," she added defiantly.
"Well, there's no accounting for taste, I must say. Seen much of the oldest Weasley boy, have you?"
Cho frowned, and paused before answering. "Lucius, what business is it of yours who I see? You have a wife. If I want to have a boyfriend, or indeed boyfriends, I will. Do you have a problem with that?"
An expression of grudging respect came over Lucius' face. "No, my dear, you are perfectly correct. I just wish though, that you didn't have such unfortunate taste. The Weasleys, indeed! Am I allowed to enquire just how well you know young Mr Weasley? Or should I say, does he know you as well as I do?"
The multiple layers of meaning in this query were not lost on Cho. She flushed with anger and embarrassment, and stood up. "Lucius, it's none of your business," she said angrily, and was about to walk away when Lucius stepped in front of her. He put out a hand, and cupped her chin firmly, his fingers behind her ear, while his other hand crept around her back, and pulled her towards him. Cho found herself pressed against Lucius, while the hand at her back slid downwards inside her bikini briefs.
"Shall I stop?" he asked her, slightly threateningly. Cho looked at him pleadingly, but felt unable to tell him to stop. Lucius kissed her neck and shoulders roughly, and she felt the familiar longing for him. He looked deep into her eyes, and said, slightly menacingly, "Does the Weasley boy make you feel like this? Does he know how to please you? Does he make you cry out like I do?" His fingers were digging into her now, one hand holding her right buttock, the other gripping the side of her head like a vice, his fingers laced through her hair. Lucius had never held her this way before, he had always been very gentle, and she was disturbed, both by the repressed violence he displayed, and by her own reaction to it: he was frightening her, but she was also feeling very aroused. She felt a flash of panic. Lucius saw her expression, and suddenly removed his hands, stepping back from her. His face showed controlled triumph, belying his words, "Forgive me, I was carried away. I can see my presence is unwelcome. I shall leave you to recover your equilibrium." He turned on his heel, and strode off, tossing his hair arrogantly over his shoulder.
Cho sat down suddenly, her legs almost giving way. As her pounding heart slowed down, she thought over what had just happened. She knew Lucius hated all the Weasleys, but she was surprised at how much he seemed to care that she was seeing Bill. She tried to be honest with herself, and dismiss the gratifying thought that he actually cared for her. It was much more likely that he just couldn't stand the idea that a Weasley should have something he regarded as his. It was obvious that he had been trying to show her what she would be missing if she gave him up altogether. Her body felt uncomfortably dissatisfied now he had gone, with a dull pressure between her legs. But that violent side of him - she knew it was there, but she had never seen it directly before, and it really scared her.
The irony was, she and Bill had had very little physical contact so far. They had met in public each time, and it happened that both of them had busy lives, and had needed to be in different places by morning, so there had never been any suggestion of their spending a night together. At the moment, Bill was between dwellings, sleeping on a friend's floor. Cho valued her privacy, and had not yet felt the time was right to offer an invitation to Bill to pay an extended visit to her flat. After all, she had not exactly invited Lucius to the flat, he had just presented himself as if he had a right to be there.
Cho then started to wonder what Lucius' business was with her grandfather. She assumed it must be something to do with jade, that was what Grandad Chang dealt in. But why would Lucius need jade? Purchasing a few items of jade jewellery hardly needed Lucius to deal directly with a man as powerful as Sun Chang. Cho was curious. She wondered at Lucius' being invited to the Chang house. This must mean the business was very important indeed. Invitations to Sun Chang's house were issued very sparingly, and were always significant. Perhaps Lucius' purchase was some form of investment? She knew there would be no point in trying to ask her grandfather. As far as he was concerned, business was always confidential, and he never discussed his clients with the family.
Lucius Malfoy was livid. He stomped around Malfoy Manor, shouting and abusing the house elves, and, if the cats had not been too smart to get in his way, he would have kicked them too. He snarled at his wife Narcissa, who merely shook her head at him in a patronising way, and walked out of the room. Draco, who was with Crabbe and Goyle in the garden, kept a weather ear open for his father, ready to disappear should there be any danger of an encounter. However, Lucius did not feel like enjoying the sunny weather, he was in a black mood, and he wanted to be away from the bright light. He found himself in his study. He paced around the room like a caged tiger, and tried to pour himself a very large dram from a new bottle of Glen Foy malt. The seal on the bottle refused to break, and he twisted the cap with such force that the neck of the bottle broke off in his hand. The jagged edge cut deep into his wrist and palm, and the rest of the bottle fell on to the sandstone hearth and smashed, splashing whisky over the hearth and the deerskin rug in front of it. The peaty phenolic smell of the amber nectar reached his nostrils, overpowering the room's usual faint smell of beeswax, old manuscripts and leather. Lucius swore long and loudly, using every profanity in his vocabulary, as his blood dripped on to the whisky-soaked rug, and ran along his arm, staining his sleeve and the front of his immaculate white shirt. With his good hand, he summoned a house elf, using the bell pull beside the fireplace.
Half an hour later, he sat in his armchair, his feet on a matching footstool, a freshly opened bottle of Glen Foy on the side table, with a decanter of spring water from the Manor grounds. He had a full glass of partially diluted single malt in his good hand. His other hand was bound up neatly. His house elf had offered to dispel the pain, but Lucius had growled at him not to bother. Somehow he felt he deserved to suffer: there was something noble about being a martyr. The hearth had been wiped and the rug removed for cleaning, but the smell of the spilled spirit still permeated the air. Lucius wore a crisp, clean shirt, with cuffs rolled back, both in concession to the weather, even though it was much cooler in here due to the thickness of the manor walls, and to avoid the bandage secured around one wrist. He closed his eyes and rested his golden mane on the high chair back, breathing in deeply. Deliberately, he relaxed his taut muscles one by one.
Lucius admitted to himself that he had been a fool. He had very nearly hurt Cho Chang, he was so angry about her association with those Weasley blood traitors. Luckily, he had realised that she was starting to feel genuinely afraid of him, and had absented himself before he could do any more damage. He realised that his actions had not done anything to endear himself to her. He knew he would have to make amends. He might even have to say sorry, and he could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he had done that in the last ten years. If Cho had just been one of his flings, he would have written it off to experience, and turned his attention elsewhere, but he had meant what he said to Draco: he did not wish to cross Sun Chang. He had an uneasy feeling that the Chinese wizard, whose expression gave little away, knew far more about what went on around him than he showed. He had appeared to be the only happy person at that drink after the Quidditch match, but Lucius had caught him looking at Cho and himself with understanding in his eyes. Cho had accidentally called him "Lucius" once. Bill Weasley did not appear to register this fact, as he had been discussing the finer points of the Quidditch match with Sun Chang; but the old Mandarin had noticed. A flicker of surprise had passed over his face, gone in an instant, although his conversation had continued to flow smoothly.
So, what should he do to soothe Cho's hurt feelings? After contemplating various possibilities for a while, he came to a decision. He awkwardly wrote a short note on his best quality parchment, his usual copper plate writing spiky and uneven, but still legible. Draining his glass, he made his way to the herb garden by the kitchen door, and plucked sprigs from two plants by the side of the path. He then went to the manor's owlery: this was a domed circular stone building a short distance from the end of the longest wing of the house. It was shaped like a dovecot, with two rows of eye-shaped holes around the edge of the roof.
Entering the building, he whistled softly, and his favourite, the eagle owl Aquila landed on his wrist. She unerringly chose his injured hand, and her long talons pierced through the bandage, aggravating the throbbing pain. He drew in his breath sharply, but forgave her, stroking her breast feathers gently, and whispering to her. She stared at him with unblinking yellow eyes, and allowed herself to be petted. She withdrew one foot from his wrist, deliberately scratching him again, and held out her leg as he awkwardly affixed the message, tying it one-handed with the aid of his teeth. She took the opportunity to bite his scalp through his hair. Then he kissed the top of her head, and told her where to deliver her burden. She pecked the bandage brutally in farewell, and rose into the sky. Lucius watched her go, admiring her graceful movements. She and he understood one another perfectly: she always did as he asked as long as he permitted her to scratch and bite him. Lucius recognised they were kindred spirits, with a tendency to violence simmering under the veneer of beautiful plumage, and so he loved her, knowing he would never tame her.
Cho was in her room at her grandfather's house, dressing for dinner, when Aquila flew through the open window. Cho recognised her as Lucius' owl. Aquila allowed Cho to remove the message. She did not threaten any violence, she reserved this special treatment for Lucius, and also Draco, whom she merely tolerated. Cho stroked Aquila's beautiful head, and offered her a glass of water. Cho regarded the folded message uncertainly: she was not sure how she felt about Lucius at the moment. She began to open it slowly. Out fell two sprigs of herbs, one slightly bitter and one sweetly perfuming the air. Curious, Cho read the note, wondering at the spiky hand:
Dearest Cho,
Forgive me. I was a fool. Please accept the enclosed:
Rue - for repentance. I rue the fact that I behaved abominably to you.
Rosemary - for remembrance, and for lovers. Remember that I was not always so with you.
Allow me to call on you tomorrow evening, and heal your hurts in person. If you are agreeable, keep these tokens. If I have destroyed any chance with you, please return them with Aquila.
Lucius
Cho sank down on her bed. Lucius Malfoy was either an incurable old romantic, or a cunning manipulator, or perhaps a complex mixture of the two. In any case, she knew she would forgive him. The idea of having her hurts healed in person - her imagination ran wild, and her body longed for him. Fleetingly, she tried to imagine Bill Weasley making such a gesture, and failed utterly.
Cho scribbled on the bottom of Lucius' note:
Yes. Call at 8 o'clock.
The herbs she rubbed between her fingers, and laid under her pillow.