Chapter 19
I was ready to *murder* Peter once we'd gotten off the pitch. As murder was illegal by law (unfortunately), I did the next best thing. I glared. I know, I know, a punch would have been much more suitable. But as a rule, I didn't like hitting my fellow Slytherins. House unity, and all that.
However, Peter, despite being smarter than Crabbe and Goyle, seemed to have Dragon's hide for skin. He didn't even notice. My temper, already nearing boiling point, climbed a notch higher.
"What the *hell* were you playing at?" The smug grin he'd worn on his face disappeared instantly at the sound of my voice.
"What?" I moved forward. The look in my eyes must have terrified him because he took a step back.
"You know *bloody well* what I'm talking about. The jinx. On Potter."
"You said--" I raised a hand, and he stopped. The boy looked ready to wet himself, I noted almost gleefully. What could I say? It pleased me to know I still had *the effect* on people.
"*I* said? You're trying to put the blame on *me*? You know the rules Peter. What *I* said had *nothing* to do with breaking them. Just because you turned into a blubbering, blundering *idiot*, who was completely *incapable* of hitting a bludger, that didn't mean you had to DISOBEY *DIRECT* ORDERS." Peter was my friend, but what he'd done was wrong, even in *my* book. He'd made Slytherins look like a horde of cheating bastards.
"You never--" My eyes blazed as he said this and he stopped.
"I never said not to break the rules?" My voice was dangerously soft. "Yes, hmm, I believe I *never said* that during the team orientation. Especially when I *stressed* the importance of rules, for a game's outcome, and for the team's honor, and dignity." I dripped sarcasm. "Remember that next time, Peter. If there *is* a next time."
As I left the room, I heard him mutter, "What's it to you, anyway?" I didn't answer. I'd been asking that question myself.
~* ~ *~ *~ *~ * ~* ~*~ * ~*~ * ~*
Hazy yellow light obscured the dull green walls of the Slytherin common room and a strong, putrid smell (unadulterated butterbeer was, believe it or not, 78% pure alcohol) was thick in the air. I was at the Slytherin Victory Party. As a player, and the team Captain at that, I was treated like a god, given more food, more drink, and, of course, more women.
Normally, I would have been overjoyed at that prospect, secretly enjoying it while I pretended to be dissatisfied. It was typical, Malfoy tradition to do that. However, this was not a night of typical Malfoy tradition. It was definitely *not* typical Malfoy tradition to get jealous.
Malfoys were the *envy* of one and all. We *envied* no one, preferring it the other way around.
But, try as I might, I couldn't get rid of that nagging feeling I had, chewing at my triumph.
We had won the match; we had won the cup (not literally, but practically; as I mentioned, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were hardly considered worthy opponents). But, instead of congratulating me, Lily was at the hospital wing, making sure *dear* James was all right. She'd asked, earlier, if it was all right with me. Oh, I was *all right* of course. *All right* to leave the *man* you were supposed to be in love with, and nurse back to health the *boy* you'd secretly been pining after for years. Maybe I hadn't put it *that* eloquently, no, instead I'd shrugged and tried to hide my disappointment.
What was I thinking? Of course Lily wouldn't do that to me. She didn't have a single, *mean* bone in her beautiful little body.
But why had she been so eager to go to James? And what was taking her so long? A nice little snog to make sure Potter got better sooner? Maybe they were even doing it right now-
I'd had enough of this nonsense. If I wanted to know so badly, I'd go see her myself.
I pushed someone named Bindy or Bimbi off my lap (I hadn't even known she was there) and strode over to the door purposefully. If Lily didn't want me, well, I didn't want her either. That might have been a blatant lie, but hey, I was a good liar.
My trip to the hospital wing was cut short, however, when I bumped into someone. A particular, red-headed-lady someone. Yes, Lily. I opened my mouth, ready to pour out the jumble of indictments accumulated in my mind. This was completely useless, because the instant she smiled at me, I forgot everything. Every jealous thought, every single accusation.
"Lucius!" She ran over to hug me, and I was rendered temporarily immobilized. Lily had a special way of hugging that made you feel. . . *needed*; that made you feel *loved*. Loved? Since when had I-"Sorry it took me so long to get here, Madame Pomfrey was at a meeting, and she needed someone to watch James; you know, make sure he didn't move too much while his bone was setting." She smiled, and the look on her face made me feel like a total prat for even *thinking* she was. . . er. . . *adulterous*.
"It's okay," I mumbled into her flower scented hair, before leaning down to kiss her rather thoroughly. "Let's go to my room." I felt her frown against me, and she pulled away. I smirked. "We're just going to talk, I'm not going to--"
"But we have to pass the Slytherin common room--" Putting a finger to her lips, I smiled.
"Secret passages."
Why on earth, you ask, would I have my own room? Wasn't I already sharing one with Severus? The one I shared with him was what I called 'My Sleeping Quarters'. I only stayed in the other dormitory with him because the teachers often checked to see if we were in our assigned places.
Technically, I wasn't supposed to *have* my own room, only Head Boys had them. But it was the unspoken *rule* of Prefect-hood to take the room reserved for the head boy *when* the head boy wasn't in your house. So, naturally, as Niles Longbottom, the Gryffindor, was Head Boy, I occupied the Slytherin's Head Boy room.
I *was* a prefect, you know. No, I didn't often act like one, and I abhorred wearing that ridiculous badge, but, believe it or not, I was. . "Well? My room then?" She nodded, and I took her hand, leading her deeper into the dungeons.
She tightened her grip on my hand as the hallway grew dimmer and colder. Not that I minded, in the very least.
I stopped when I reached a particularly bright green wall. Unlike the rest, this wall wasn't green with slime, it was green with a Lotarsium charm, a charm that blended in with its surroundings but glowed when the wizard who cast the spell neared.
I muttered Kopteinius, and the wall split open. I (always the gentleman), gestured for her to go inside first, before me.
She was looking around in amazement and I allowed myself a satisfied grin. My room was perfect, after all, I'd designed it myself. The house-elves had come a month before school started to ready the room for their master. Then, of course, I'd added personal effects to it (the wintergreen wall hanging with silver snakes stitched on, bewitched to writhe magically, for example). She trailed her fingers across my collection of Dark Arts books.
"You *do* like scary books, don't you." She murmured, almost to herself.
"And if I do?" I'd come up behind her, my arms wrapped around her waist. For some strange, unexplainable reason, I couldn't stop smelling her hair tonight. She was addictive. She turned around and gave me a small peck on the cheek.
"Oh, nothing, I talk to myself all the time." She hesitated momentarily, before asking, "Do you. . . *practice* any of these?" I felt myself stiffen. She was a Gryffindor, of course she wouldn't take the Dark Arts as lightly as we Slytherins did. What had I been thinking, bringing her into my room like that? I'd *never* brought anyone to my room. To my other room, yes, but *never* to this one. It was my private space, my sanctuary. But somehow, it had just *felt* right, with her.
"I might." I was using my silky, convincing voice. I didn't want to let her know I was getting uncomfortable.
"Do you *never* give straight answers?" She arched an eyebrow in what could have been annoyance. She knew me too well.
"No, I don't." Unfortunately, I'd reverted to my sulky-boy mood. She had the tendency to make me do that, whenever she'd managed to read my mind (which, I might add, was a rather common occurrence).
"Just--" She stopped, and her voice softened a fraction, "be careful, okay? The Dark Arts are dangerous enough with grown wizards trying them, and I don't want you to be hurt." My heart thudded uncomfortably in my chest. In normal, muggle terms, you could say it skipped a beat. She cared for me? She might have been my girlfriend, and she might have *acted* like she cared for me, but acting, and actually saying, were two completely different things.
"Lily," I said, trying to sound reassuring, "I've been practicing this since I started Hogwarts. I've been taught *how* to practice this since I could learn to speak. I'll be all right." She turned to me.
"You only practice the Dark Arts when you intend to use them. You *are* going to use them, aren't you? Against people, against--" I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Of course it would come to this. Lily was *good*, almost *too* good for my liking. But Lily was. . . she was. . . Lily.
"You might make me feel different inside, but you can't change who I am completely. I've been raised to do this, and now, I do this because I want to, not because I have to."
I made my own decisions. I *make* my own decisions. I chose to become a Death Eater out of my own free will, certainly not because my *father* ordered me.
"I know." It was a whisper, resigned and tinted with sadness. Had I made her this sad? The Dark Arts were a part of me. But then again, so was she.
"I'm sorry, but that's who I am. I can't change."
"Anyone can change." I looked into her eyes.
"I'm not anyone, Lily. I'm Lucius. And I don't change."
I did.
It might have been temporary, and short, but I did change. For her. She made me different.
"Do you *want* me to change? You don't *like* me the way I am?" I asked softly.
"I love you the way you are, Lucius. And that's what worries me most." My breath caught in my throat, when she'd said 'I love you the way you are'. It had sounded so close to 'I love you'. Too close.
She moved towards me and tip-toed to wrap her arms around my neck in a hug. Not wanting the hug to end, *ever*, I swept her off her feet, both literally and figuratively, from the gasp she gave. She felt so light and soft; it was hard not to think of feathers. I set her down gingerly, and, like an expensive porcelain doll, arranged her arms and legs. She giggled, as I joined her on the carpeted floor.
"We've talked too much about me, tell me about yourself. I hardly know you." It was a miracle I'd actually managed to get those words out right; I was very much entranced by the way the light settled around her, much like it had that night we'd flown together.
"Well, my parents are muggles. My father used to do business, and my mother's an artist. I have a sister, Petunia."
"He *used to* do business? What does he do now?" I saw her take a shaky, indrawn breath.
"He's sick. Very sick. He can't work."
"Take him to St. Mungo's, I'm sure they can--" She smiled a little.
"No, the healing they have there only works for wizards. It would only hurt him, if they tried." She wouldn't want to be talking about this right now. A different subject, maybe? Ah, yes, her sister.
"What about Petunia? Does she go to. . . muggle school?" I said, unsure of what muggles called their higher institutions of learning.
"She's just a year older than me, but I think I act much older than she does. She's about to graduate secondary school this year."
"So you miss her?" I was curious about this, never really having had siblings of my own.
"I did. But. . . sometimes, she acts as if she doesn't like me anymore. Like I'm not her sister; like I'm not even human. We used to be really close. But, now, she doesn't talk to me. She ignores me completely, and when she *does* say anything, it's always something mean about me." Her own sister didn't accept her? For a brief instant, I almost felt what she'd felt. Not accepted by her own blood, not accepted by wizards.
"And there you are, caught in between, like you don't belong." She nodded, and looked up at me with her iridescent green eyes.
"But I feel like. . . maybe I *do* have a place here. You make me feel. . ." She didn't continue, instead taking my hand and gently twining her fingers into mine. I understood, and answered by squeezing back tenderly.
Our conversation continued long into the night, and, inevitably, she drifted off to sleep during one of our prolonged silences. Careful not to wake her up, I carried her to my bed, only too aware of how she felt in my arms. A strange feeling came over me as I tucked the blankets around her. It was only then that I realized it. This had been the first time I'd thought of someone's needs above my own. Had she been any other girl, I would have left her on the floor, and slept on the bed. But I couldn't imagine doing to that to her. She was Lily.
As quietly as possible, I summoned a mattress into the room, blew out the candles, and went to sleep.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A/N: Waah!!! : ( I swear I'm the only one who doesn't have order of the phoenix!!! *sob* my uncle promised it, and he's in Scotland, so it's going to take a while to get here. A very *long* while, since he'll be reading it too. *sigh* Lucius says he can't understand *why* everyone's making such a big deal about OotP. He wonders *why* anyone would want to know *anything* about a wretched little boy with bad hair. *smiles* that's Lucius for ya. :D
chapter 20's done!! So, *cough* *cough* reviews, anyone?? :D
Chelli-*evil smile* yes, Lucius *did* get incredibly jealous, didn't he? *hehehe* Yes, that Quidditch scene was *very* hard to write :D I had an immense load of writer's block weighing down horribly on my mind, added to schoolwork. . . but luckily, my friend helped me and so 'voila!' chapter 18 appeared :D
Addy-Hope you like this chapter! :D As promised, the next one is *really* *really* PURE Lucius fluff! I can't bring myself to say *fluff* because it just isn't right, with Lucius :D *sob* you have ORDER OF THE PHOENIX!!
Neni- :D Hope you're feeling better :D Yes, Lucius *was* very mean about your last name ("Lucius, you bad boy!"*he'd kill me for calling him a boy*) but I think it sounds cool :D Ooh, wonder *which* guy you're talking about? *hmm* *mischievous smile*
I was ready to *murder* Peter once we'd gotten off the pitch. As murder was illegal by law (unfortunately), I did the next best thing. I glared. I know, I know, a punch would have been much more suitable. But as a rule, I didn't like hitting my fellow Slytherins. House unity, and all that.
However, Peter, despite being smarter than Crabbe and Goyle, seemed to have Dragon's hide for skin. He didn't even notice. My temper, already nearing boiling point, climbed a notch higher.
"What the *hell* were you playing at?" The smug grin he'd worn on his face disappeared instantly at the sound of my voice.
"What?" I moved forward. The look in my eyes must have terrified him because he took a step back.
"You know *bloody well* what I'm talking about. The jinx. On Potter."
"You said--" I raised a hand, and he stopped. The boy looked ready to wet himself, I noted almost gleefully. What could I say? It pleased me to know I still had *the effect* on people.
"*I* said? You're trying to put the blame on *me*? You know the rules Peter. What *I* said had *nothing* to do with breaking them. Just because you turned into a blubbering, blundering *idiot*, who was completely *incapable* of hitting a bludger, that didn't mean you had to DISOBEY *DIRECT* ORDERS." Peter was my friend, but what he'd done was wrong, even in *my* book. He'd made Slytherins look like a horde of cheating bastards.
"You never--" My eyes blazed as he said this and he stopped.
"I never said not to break the rules?" My voice was dangerously soft. "Yes, hmm, I believe I *never said* that during the team orientation. Especially when I *stressed* the importance of rules, for a game's outcome, and for the team's honor, and dignity." I dripped sarcasm. "Remember that next time, Peter. If there *is* a next time."
As I left the room, I heard him mutter, "What's it to you, anyway?" I didn't answer. I'd been asking that question myself.
~* ~ *~ *~ *~ * ~* ~*~ * ~*~ * ~*
Hazy yellow light obscured the dull green walls of the Slytherin common room and a strong, putrid smell (unadulterated butterbeer was, believe it or not, 78% pure alcohol) was thick in the air. I was at the Slytherin Victory Party. As a player, and the team Captain at that, I was treated like a god, given more food, more drink, and, of course, more women.
Normally, I would have been overjoyed at that prospect, secretly enjoying it while I pretended to be dissatisfied. It was typical, Malfoy tradition to do that. However, this was not a night of typical Malfoy tradition. It was definitely *not* typical Malfoy tradition to get jealous.
Malfoys were the *envy* of one and all. We *envied* no one, preferring it the other way around.
But, try as I might, I couldn't get rid of that nagging feeling I had, chewing at my triumph.
We had won the match; we had won the cup (not literally, but practically; as I mentioned, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were hardly considered worthy opponents). But, instead of congratulating me, Lily was at the hospital wing, making sure *dear* James was all right. She'd asked, earlier, if it was all right with me. Oh, I was *all right* of course. *All right* to leave the *man* you were supposed to be in love with, and nurse back to health the *boy* you'd secretly been pining after for years. Maybe I hadn't put it *that* eloquently, no, instead I'd shrugged and tried to hide my disappointment.
What was I thinking? Of course Lily wouldn't do that to me. She didn't have a single, *mean* bone in her beautiful little body.
But why had she been so eager to go to James? And what was taking her so long? A nice little snog to make sure Potter got better sooner? Maybe they were even doing it right now-
I'd had enough of this nonsense. If I wanted to know so badly, I'd go see her myself.
I pushed someone named Bindy or Bimbi off my lap (I hadn't even known she was there) and strode over to the door purposefully. If Lily didn't want me, well, I didn't want her either. That might have been a blatant lie, but hey, I was a good liar.
My trip to the hospital wing was cut short, however, when I bumped into someone. A particular, red-headed-lady someone. Yes, Lily. I opened my mouth, ready to pour out the jumble of indictments accumulated in my mind. This was completely useless, because the instant she smiled at me, I forgot everything. Every jealous thought, every single accusation.
"Lucius!" She ran over to hug me, and I was rendered temporarily immobilized. Lily had a special way of hugging that made you feel. . . *needed*; that made you feel *loved*. Loved? Since when had I-"Sorry it took me so long to get here, Madame Pomfrey was at a meeting, and she needed someone to watch James; you know, make sure he didn't move too much while his bone was setting." She smiled, and the look on her face made me feel like a total prat for even *thinking* she was. . . er. . . *adulterous*.
"It's okay," I mumbled into her flower scented hair, before leaning down to kiss her rather thoroughly. "Let's go to my room." I felt her frown against me, and she pulled away. I smirked. "We're just going to talk, I'm not going to--"
"But we have to pass the Slytherin common room--" Putting a finger to her lips, I smiled.
"Secret passages."
Why on earth, you ask, would I have my own room? Wasn't I already sharing one with Severus? The one I shared with him was what I called 'My Sleeping Quarters'. I only stayed in the other dormitory with him because the teachers often checked to see if we were in our assigned places.
Technically, I wasn't supposed to *have* my own room, only Head Boys had them. But it was the unspoken *rule* of Prefect-hood to take the room reserved for the head boy *when* the head boy wasn't in your house. So, naturally, as Niles Longbottom, the Gryffindor, was Head Boy, I occupied the Slytherin's Head Boy room.
I *was* a prefect, you know. No, I didn't often act like one, and I abhorred wearing that ridiculous badge, but, believe it or not, I was. . "Well? My room then?" She nodded, and I took her hand, leading her deeper into the dungeons.
She tightened her grip on my hand as the hallway grew dimmer and colder. Not that I minded, in the very least.
I stopped when I reached a particularly bright green wall. Unlike the rest, this wall wasn't green with slime, it was green with a Lotarsium charm, a charm that blended in with its surroundings but glowed when the wizard who cast the spell neared.
I muttered Kopteinius, and the wall split open. I (always the gentleman), gestured for her to go inside first, before me.
She was looking around in amazement and I allowed myself a satisfied grin. My room was perfect, after all, I'd designed it myself. The house-elves had come a month before school started to ready the room for their master. Then, of course, I'd added personal effects to it (the wintergreen wall hanging with silver snakes stitched on, bewitched to writhe magically, for example). She trailed her fingers across my collection of Dark Arts books.
"You *do* like scary books, don't you." She murmured, almost to herself.
"And if I do?" I'd come up behind her, my arms wrapped around her waist. For some strange, unexplainable reason, I couldn't stop smelling her hair tonight. She was addictive. She turned around and gave me a small peck on the cheek.
"Oh, nothing, I talk to myself all the time." She hesitated momentarily, before asking, "Do you. . . *practice* any of these?" I felt myself stiffen. She was a Gryffindor, of course she wouldn't take the Dark Arts as lightly as we Slytherins did. What had I been thinking, bringing her into my room like that? I'd *never* brought anyone to my room. To my other room, yes, but *never* to this one. It was my private space, my sanctuary. But somehow, it had just *felt* right, with her.
"I might." I was using my silky, convincing voice. I didn't want to let her know I was getting uncomfortable.
"Do you *never* give straight answers?" She arched an eyebrow in what could have been annoyance. She knew me too well.
"No, I don't." Unfortunately, I'd reverted to my sulky-boy mood. She had the tendency to make me do that, whenever she'd managed to read my mind (which, I might add, was a rather common occurrence).
"Just--" She stopped, and her voice softened a fraction, "be careful, okay? The Dark Arts are dangerous enough with grown wizards trying them, and I don't want you to be hurt." My heart thudded uncomfortably in my chest. In normal, muggle terms, you could say it skipped a beat. She cared for me? She might have been my girlfriend, and she might have *acted* like she cared for me, but acting, and actually saying, were two completely different things.
"Lily," I said, trying to sound reassuring, "I've been practicing this since I started Hogwarts. I've been taught *how* to practice this since I could learn to speak. I'll be all right." She turned to me.
"You only practice the Dark Arts when you intend to use them. You *are* going to use them, aren't you? Against people, against--" I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Of course it would come to this. Lily was *good*, almost *too* good for my liking. But Lily was. . . she was. . . Lily.
"You might make me feel different inside, but you can't change who I am completely. I've been raised to do this, and now, I do this because I want to, not because I have to."
I made my own decisions. I *make* my own decisions. I chose to become a Death Eater out of my own free will, certainly not because my *father* ordered me.
"I know." It was a whisper, resigned and tinted with sadness. Had I made her this sad? The Dark Arts were a part of me. But then again, so was she.
"I'm sorry, but that's who I am. I can't change."
"Anyone can change." I looked into her eyes.
"I'm not anyone, Lily. I'm Lucius. And I don't change."
I did.
It might have been temporary, and short, but I did change. For her. She made me different.
"Do you *want* me to change? You don't *like* me the way I am?" I asked softly.
"I love you the way you are, Lucius. And that's what worries me most." My breath caught in my throat, when she'd said 'I love you the way you are'. It had sounded so close to 'I love you'. Too close.
She moved towards me and tip-toed to wrap her arms around my neck in a hug. Not wanting the hug to end, *ever*, I swept her off her feet, both literally and figuratively, from the gasp she gave. She felt so light and soft; it was hard not to think of feathers. I set her down gingerly, and, like an expensive porcelain doll, arranged her arms and legs. She giggled, as I joined her on the carpeted floor.
"We've talked too much about me, tell me about yourself. I hardly know you." It was a miracle I'd actually managed to get those words out right; I was very much entranced by the way the light settled around her, much like it had that night we'd flown together.
"Well, my parents are muggles. My father used to do business, and my mother's an artist. I have a sister, Petunia."
"He *used to* do business? What does he do now?" I saw her take a shaky, indrawn breath.
"He's sick. Very sick. He can't work."
"Take him to St. Mungo's, I'm sure they can--" She smiled a little.
"No, the healing they have there only works for wizards. It would only hurt him, if they tried." She wouldn't want to be talking about this right now. A different subject, maybe? Ah, yes, her sister.
"What about Petunia? Does she go to. . . muggle school?" I said, unsure of what muggles called their higher institutions of learning.
"She's just a year older than me, but I think I act much older than she does. She's about to graduate secondary school this year."
"So you miss her?" I was curious about this, never really having had siblings of my own.
"I did. But. . . sometimes, she acts as if she doesn't like me anymore. Like I'm not her sister; like I'm not even human. We used to be really close. But, now, she doesn't talk to me. She ignores me completely, and when she *does* say anything, it's always something mean about me." Her own sister didn't accept her? For a brief instant, I almost felt what she'd felt. Not accepted by her own blood, not accepted by wizards.
"And there you are, caught in between, like you don't belong." She nodded, and looked up at me with her iridescent green eyes.
"But I feel like. . . maybe I *do* have a place here. You make me feel. . ." She didn't continue, instead taking my hand and gently twining her fingers into mine. I understood, and answered by squeezing back tenderly.
Our conversation continued long into the night, and, inevitably, she drifted off to sleep during one of our prolonged silences. Careful not to wake her up, I carried her to my bed, only too aware of how she felt in my arms. A strange feeling came over me as I tucked the blankets around her. It was only then that I realized it. This had been the first time I'd thought of someone's needs above my own. Had she been any other girl, I would have left her on the floor, and slept on the bed. But I couldn't imagine doing to that to her. She was Lily.
As quietly as possible, I summoned a mattress into the room, blew out the candles, and went to sleep.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A/N: Waah!!! : ( I swear I'm the only one who doesn't have order of the phoenix!!! *sob* my uncle promised it, and he's in Scotland, so it's going to take a while to get here. A very *long* while, since he'll be reading it too. *sigh* Lucius says he can't understand *why* everyone's making such a big deal about OotP. He wonders *why* anyone would want to know *anything* about a wretched little boy with bad hair. *smiles* that's Lucius for ya. :D
chapter 20's done!! So, *cough* *cough* reviews, anyone?? :D
Chelli-*evil smile* yes, Lucius *did* get incredibly jealous, didn't he? *hehehe* Yes, that Quidditch scene was *very* hard to write :D I had an immense load of writer's block weighing down horribly on my mind, added to schoolwork. . . but luckily, my friend helped me and so 'voila!' chapter 18 appeared :D
Addy-Hope you like this chapter! :D As promised, the next one is *really* *really* PURE Lucius fluff! I can't bring myself to say *fluff* because it just isn't right, with Lucius :D *sob* you have ORDER OF THE PHOENIX!!
Neni- :D Hope you're feeling better :D Yes, Lucius *was* very mean about your last name ("Lucius, you bad boy!"*he'd kill me for calling him a boy*) but I think it sounds cool :D Ooh, wonder *which* guy you're talking about? *hmm* *mischievous smile*
