Chapter 36

The very fact that Lilian Evans cooked disturbingly good food that I was familiar with (no burgers, or pizza, thank goodness) would have been enough to keep me happy.

Let me rephrase that.

It would have been enough to keep me as happy as I could possibly have gotten, given the 'muggle-situation'. (That was something I wasn't going to mention to Lily, of course; she still seemed a bit sore after the argument we'd had earlier).

But, no, there was definitely something out there determined to keep Lucius Malfoy unhappy. And that thing could only be Vernon Dursley.

And, worse, there was only one thing wrong with this Dursley creature.

And that was everything. (Lucius' Notes: Grammar considers this singular, doesn't it? Ha. Beat that.)

He was the embodiment of muggle horror. I'd thought that sales clerk had been horrible enough. If he was horrible, then Dursley was a hundred times that.

He was the muggle-est of the muggles. The holder of all traits I found disgusting. He was, to put it gently, The Muggle.

I hope the italicization hasn't been lost on you.

The dinner got off as I'd predicted it would: to a very bad start.

"If you don't mind, Mrs. Evans, could I have the honor of saying Grace?" Having had dinner with the Evans family before, I'd been aware what exactly 'saying grace' was. A prayer.

Of course, coming from Dursley and his snout-of-a-mouth, it had seemed more than a little blasphemous. I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd been struck by a bolt of lightning in the middle of it. Unfortunately, (as Lily told me) God worked in mysterious ways. And, obviously, roasting Dursley to a crisp in the Evans' dining room in front of everyone wasn't considered very mysterious. 

"Father in heaven," he began, taking a peek around the room to see if everyone else's eyes were closed (mine certainly weren't; I had no religion, and so I didn't participate in the prayer). "We thank you for this food, this wonderful dinner, prepared by the ever-lovely Mrs. Evans. . . I thank you for my beautiful, understanding, normal fiancée, Petunia," (at this, Petunia sighed, 'Oh Vernie', before realizing that she was supposed to be praying; what was wrong with the woman? Normal wasn't a compliment, it was an insult), "we pray urgently for Mr. Evans, who is, unfortunately, too unwell to join us tonight. . . we pray for those here who have not seen The Light," (who, Lily and me? And how come that sounded more like an insult than a sincere wish?), "Amen."

The meal went on quite uneventfully, with Vernon and Petunia tossing rude comments in our direction (disguised for Mrs. Evans' benefit, of course, as the occasional snippet of conversation), but, mostly just ignoring us.

Now, I know, I should really have done just as Lily had told me earlier.

Nothing.

But I wasn't a Malfoy for nothing, you know. I was a Malfoy because I was a man of action. I couldn't just sit there, and let all my dignity and pride be stamped on--then again, I suspected it was physically impossible for Dursley to stamp--rolled was the word, really (he could at least do that, couldn't he?).

So, halfway through dinner, I decided to do something. I felt I'd done enough for Lily by keeping quiet for half the dinner and by not transfiguring him into the potato he so deserved to be.

"Please pass the salt." I directed this at The Muggle (I refer to him as this). I'd left the bait. . . but would he bite? Bwahahaha. Of course he would. He was Dursley, for evil's sake. The pathetic muggle had no idea what was coming. For my little plan to succeed. . . all he would have to do was nothing. Absolutely nothing. How hard could that be for him?

And, as I suspected, he went on ignoring me, as he'd done all night.

Wonderful.

I almost crowed with delight.

Lily seemed to be absorbed with her paper napkin. So, she thought The Muggle had this coming too, did she? Well, so did I.

Before I. . . reveal to you what happened, let me first explain something.

Wizarding law, in all its Grace and Wonder, seems to protect muggles more than it does wizards. I suppose it's similar to those Animal Rights things muggles have; the need to protect something weaker and far less intelligent. So, unless I wanted to spend a week in Azkaban, I couldn't do anything particularly dangerous. (Well, I could, Father could get me out before anyone could say 'dementor', but I preferred to spare him the trouble).

And I was a Slytherin.

While some of us may be known to be a bit. . . 'slow on the uptake', you might say, (Lucius' Notes: *cough cough* Crabbe *cough cough* Goyle), the majority of us were cunning. And it didn't take much of that talent to know I would be in Mrs. Evans' bad books the instant I lay a finger—or a curse—on Vernon Dursley.

And, it didn't take much either to know how to manipulate something as simple and un-enigmatic as The Muggle.

I had a way of making things look like other people's mistakes. And, not for the first time, I thanked 'whatever was up there' for it.

As I trust I've explained my future actions satisfactorily enough, I continue the story.

The Dursley creature still hadn't moved an inch. From my calculations, that was, in fact, all he would have had to move; the salt was right in front of him.

But he didn't.

Perfect.

I took it out.

My wand.

(Lucius' Notes: not that wand, don't be perverted)

The reaction was instantaneous. Dursley turned an interesting shade of purple, and Petunia turned an interesting shade of white. Mrs. Evans just looked a bit surprised. One point for me.

"Accio salt." The salt zoomed towards me, but not before brushing by The Muggle's sleeve, causing him to turn an even more interesting shade of purple before he pulled back his hand as if it had been burned.

Amazing how words can be, don't you think? Two words could get that reaction from Dursley. I wondered what the word 'Crucio' would do.

A lot more, probably.    

Ah, it was fun to be a wizard.

Shame they outlawed muggle hunting in the fourteenth century.

This was so. . . fun.

Well, the fun was just starting.

"I really love this spell, don't you, Lils? I mean, I would never have to stand up for anything again." I purposefully made my tone conversational.

"Oh, absolutely. I learned it last year, and I've been using it ever since. I can't wait until I get older, you know, past that Degree of Underage Wizardry." The sparkle in her eyes told me she understood perfectly well what I was doing. . . and she liked it. I never understood why they didn't place her in Slytherin; she was just as clever and sneaky as I was, given the right incentive.

"And when exactly is that, love?" Her mother asked. Now Petunia and Vernon were out of the conversation. They looked like they'd both eaten something incredibly sour.

"Seventeenth birthday, mum. I can't wait!" Lilian Evans turned to me

"How old are you, Lucius? Seventh year, right? You must be seventeen then?" I smiled, and shook my head.

"Eighteen. I went to Durmstrang for around a term a while back. Interesting place."

"Durmstrang?"

"It's a wizarding school," I explained. Then, I paused, noticing something. Dursley and Petunia both seemed to grimace the instant I said the word 'wizarding'. Hmm. I could definitely use this to my advantage. "Of course, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, aren't the only wizarding schools around, there's Beauxbatons, and that's somewhere in France. There are a lot of wizarding schools, actually, but Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons are the best." My suspicions were right on target.

What did they find so scary about the word 'wizarding' and 'witchcraft? 

I mean, yes, I disliked muggles and their sorry race, but I didn't really shudder when I heard the word 'muggle'. They weren't worth shuddering over.

"Where is Durmstrang? Do schools only send letters to the vicinity around them?"

"Well," I explained, "every time a magical child is born, their names are written in a book, and when they reach the age when magic manifests itself, which is eleven, then they start their schooling. Each school has a book, which only lists down names from certain places, else we'd be getting hundreds of letters from different schools. Durmstrang is unplottable, meaning it can't be plotted on any map. Although, judging from their accents, I think they're somewhere in Eastern Europe. Romania, Bulgaria, Hungary, the like." I smiled at her.

She was a muggle, but some muggles were nice. Others were just plain stupid.

Like Dursley.

*~*~*~*~*~Later~*~*~*~*~*

"Horrible, wasn't he?" Lily commented, as I walked her to her room.

"Very. Did you notice though, how he looked like a prune when he turned purple? I didn't know people could turn purple. I thought they could turn blue, and red, but. . . well, Dursley must be a special case."

She laughed, and stopped at her door.

"Good night." She turned to step into her room, but she looked at me one last time, her eyes soft. "You know, I wish it could be like this at Hogwarts. You, dropping me off in the Gryffindor Common Room, without having to wear an invisibility cloak, and without fear of being beaten to a pulp by my house mates. It's just. . . I don't know." She smiled at me again, and, impulsively, gave me a quick kiss on the lips, and a hug. "I love you."

My voice, strangely hoarse, whispered back an "I love you too". She looked over her shoulder, and smiled at me. This smile was. . . different. It looked sad. What made her sad? Who made her sad? I'd hex them into the next millennia. No one made her sad.

Little did I know then, that I was threatening to hex myself into the next millennia. Because I was the one she was shedding her tears at night over.

As usual, I've gotten ahead of myself. Let us return to the past.

Just as I'd gotten myself settled in my bed, ready to sleep, a sharp rapping on the door roused me.

Too tired to get up and open the door myself, I waved my wand, and let magic do its work.

Surprisingly, it was Petunia. She turned a shade of pink when she saw I was wearing nothing but my boxers.

Well, of course the sight of me was enough to awe anyone into embarrassment.

"Lucius," she said once she had recovered, not bothering to hide the revulsion in her voice. Ah, how I loved little verbal banters.

"Petunia," I arched an inquiring eyebrow. "You can ignore the pleasantries." I said the last word with sarcasm. The word 'pleasant' and 'Petunia' didn't belong in the same sentence.

"Good. Lucius, Lily is my sister. And, much as I despise her, I despise you even more. You're a vile creature that doesn't even deserve a name. It's a shame you look so handsome. But just—just stay away from my sister. I don't want her getting more corrupted than she already is." So she thought I was handsome, did she? And she thought Lily was corrupted? LILY?

"Was this supposed to be a threat?"

"It is a threat. Stay away from her."

"Or what? Are you going to kill me with something magic can't protect, muggle? Is ickle Vernie going to come over and beat me to a pulp? Because frankly, I'm a Malfoy. And, if you haven't heard of us in the wizarding world, then you do now. I do what I want, and say what I like. And nothing, least of all a muggle like you, can stop me. And, you know, wizards and witches? We aren't uncivilized animals."

"Oh, and we are? What you call muggles?"

"Do you even know what the word muggle means, Petunia? If you did, then maybe you wouldn't hate us so much."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I don't go to Hogwarts School of Freaks and Misfits."

I laughed nonchalantly. Of course I was annoyed; how dare this piece of muggle trash speak of my school that way? But annoyance had to be disguised. Never let your enemies see your weaknesses. No emotions.

"Was that supposed to be an insult? We are special, unique people. Even muggles are special and unique in their own way. But you aren't. You're normal. You're common. You're typical. Do you understand that, muggle?"

"Normality was never a bad thing, wizard. Normality equals stability." But she didn't sound so sure.

"Ah, yes, stability. You could get stability by staying inside a little hole of a house all day. Stability might be nice, but stability makes you a boring, boring person. You have no sense of adventure, do you?" Aqua green eyes flashed at me.

"You know what? I take back what I said. You and Lily deserve each other."

"Nice to hear I have your approval, Petunia. Not that I needed it. And, I'd like to say, likewise. You and Vernon deserve each other."

More than Lily and I did.

But I didn't say that. I watched her leave the room with a swish of indignation. Unconsciously, a smirk formed upon my lips. No doubt she knew herself she was getting the 'shorter end of the wand' (Lucius' Notes: 'shorter end of the stick'). I was, after all, so much better than Vernon the Whale.

I shifted myself to a more comfortable position on the muggle bed (you see, wizard beds are enchanted to be soft and feather-like, no matter what the material; that certain enchantment, however, was kept secret by the manufacturers).

Sleep was long in coming.

Although I didn't show any of my agitation towards my role as a Death Eater initiate, I felt it. Especially at night.

For some strange reason, darkness brought about the presence of my quickly fading conscience. Darkness, and Lily.

Though it was something I didn't normally admit to people, I had never killed anyone. I hexed, I cursed, I did the random 'crucio'. . . but I'd never murdered in cold blood. Ever.

But I would. In a little over a week, I would kill someone. End someone's life. And that would destroy so many more.

The thought of so much power was dizzying. The way vertigo was dizzying. Being so high up. . . the rush of adrenalin, the blood pumping faster and faster thought my veins. . .

I liked it.

The way I liked Quidditch.

The way I liked falling.

But this was different; completely different, with the way I liked—no, loved—Lily. Though I doubted a single part of me was, my love to Lily was pure.

So, yes, I liked the thought of killing something. . . someone. I liked the power that came with it.

But killing someone I loved. . . that was something else.

I could do nothing to stop Voldemort from hurting Lily. And the question was, would my instinct for self-preservation win over my instinct to protect what I loved?

Here, in the safe confines of my bed, I could imagine all I wanted. Images of myself, putting Voldemort in full-body bind and dashing off with Lily, if she was to be the mudblood he planned to kill. . . I could think—and wish, all I wanted.

But in the final moment, would I do it? I was no coward, but I was, by no means, a fool either.

I loved Lily with my heart. . . but would I guard her with my life?

The door creaked open, and I sprang up to a sitting position, my wand lit in my hand.

Lily.

"Lucius, it's just me." She was wearing her simple white nightgown. Her hair was an absolute mess, and she didn't have a spot of make up on.

She was beautiful.

And, from what I could see in the dim light, shivering.

"Come here, and that's an order." I said quietly, a spreading a blanket open in my arms. I didn't feel the cold very much; Malfoy Manor was colder.

She smiled, or I thought she did, before she sidled up beside me, still shivering beneath the blanket I'd covered her in. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around her for extra warmth.

"Better?"

"Much."

"What are you doing awake?" I chided.

"I couldn't sleep. I couldn't stop thinking."

"About what?"

"You."  

I drew in a breath, and let it out quickly. Lily could See. Was it possible that she knew what I was going to do? I sure as hell hoped not.

"Why?" I said, sharper than I'd intended to.

"I'm. . . worried about you. I don't know why. I just have this. . . this feeling."

"I'll be all right, Lily; there's no need to worry about me. I can take care of myself."

She shook her head.

"It's not about you, per se, it's more about. . . what you're doing. Or what you're going to do. Oh, I sound like a nagging old hag, reading into things that I shouldn't read into, so I'd better stop." She leaned against the headboard, but I pulled her to me in a rather rough hug.

"You'd never be a nagging old hag."

She smiled against my chest.

"Really."

"Well. . . maybe you would," I conceded, and she hit me playfully.

We stayed like that—immobile, breathing in the scent of each other.

Suddenly she shifted, moving to a more comfortable position against my shoulder. My chest was bared to the wind, and it was only then I realized how cold I truly had been.

"Lily?" I whispered.

"Hmm?" she whispered back.

"What does Petunia think about our little late night rendezvous?" She giggled.

"Petunia's asleep."

"That's nice to know. She gave me this little 'stay away' warning earlier. She was trying to scare me away from you, I think. Maybe she does care."

"She did?" At this, Lily giggled some more.

"Yes, she did. We bickered, until, seeing defeat, she told me we deserved each other."

"Seeing defeat? Arrogance likes you, I take it?"

"It does." I smirked. Quite unexpectedly, she lifted a hand and traced the lines of my face.

"You're beautiful, you know that?"

Both my eyebrows raised. Beautiful? Handsome, yes, but I'd never been called beautiful.

"Don't you mean handsome? Women are beautiful, girls are cute, I am handsome." She smiled and laughed softly at my remark.

"No, not handsome. . . you're beautiful the way angels are beautiful. You're like. . . a marble statue, so pale and chiseled."

"Lily, look in the mirror. That's what I call beautiful." She blushed.

"So what are you?"

"Me?" I indicated to myself to express my point. "I already told you. I'm handsome."

"Oh, get over yourself."

"Oh no. Oh no." I feigned seriousness. And, being the actor I was, she actually fell for it.

"What?" She was genuinely worried.

"You see, it's physically and morally impossible for Malfoys to get over themselves." She arched an eyebrow. "Really! I'm serious."

"Are you ticklish, Mr. Malfoy?"

"What?"

"I said," she jabbed a finger at my stomach and I drew back, "are," she jabbed again, causing me to jump off the bed, "you ticklish?" her hands were now positioned on her hips.

"Malfoys aren't ticklish." She smirked, the way I'd probably taught her to.

"I wasn't asking about Malfoys. I was asking about you."

"No, I'm not--" I'd barely finished my sentence, when she pounced on me. Literally, pounced. I fell on the floor, her sitting on top of me. And, as expected, she attacked my ribs.

And I laughed. Not because I was ticklish, but because it was so funny she didn't believe me.

"You ARE ticklish!"

"No I'm" I gasped for air "not ticklish!"

"Then stop laughing." She crossed her arms.

I stopped. Well. . . I tried to stop.

"See, you are!!"

All right, maybe I was. But there was no way I was going to admit defeat. Ever.

A hand placed on each side of her waist, I picked her up, and set her on the floor easily. She giggled.

"You treat me like a doll."

"A doll? No. Dolls are. . . pretty. They're meant to be placed in cabinets and shelves, and not to be played with, for fear of them getting dirty, or destroyed. You. . ." I touched her face, "are not a doll. You look like one, but you're the kind of person meant to be hugged and cuddled and kissed. . ." I leaned closer to kiss the tip of her nose, "and tickled."

My turn.

She was on the floor, and I was above her tickling mercilessly, just like before. I really did like tickling her. It was like listening to her laugh, only ten times better. It was like seeing her laugh, and blush, and cry at the same time.

I stopped. . . finally.

She lay red faced and exhausted.

"Cardinal rule: Never tickle each other."

"But it's so fun," I protested.

"Well, maybe occasionally."

I paused, feeling something, and tried to act like nothing was wrong.

"Tired now?"

"Very."

"Go to sleep." I kissed her forehead and got off her rather awkwardly.

All right, you might have forgotten, but I was a teenaged boy. I was, in many ways, mature for my age. But I was still a teenage boy.

With normal, teenage-boy hormones.

And, somewhere during the time Lily was under me, giggling and shrieking, I realized who I was with, and what it seemed like we were doing. Call me dirty minded, but hey, I was eighteen.

And so I had. . . the typical male reaction to it.

I needed a cold shower.

A really cold one. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Author's Notes:

Hope you don't mind Lucius' innuendos… he loves adding those J Well, you know, since I promised—or, to be more precise, since Lucius promised for me—that a chapter came once a week, and I sort of broke it, here's two chapters. Well, it's one chapter, but I've made it extra long, so I hope you all like it! I added a bit more of the symbolism there, see if you can find it. Lucius is leaving muggleworld the chapter after the next, and then, we get to meet his parents *shudder*.

Thank Yous:

Addy—well, I'm glad you still think Lucius has some humanity in him, lol. He wears his cloak of evilness too tightly. This chapter shows a bit more of the dark side, when he talked about how he liked killing. He scared me a bit when I was typing. . . But I still love him ! J I love evil people like Lucius. I think there's something about evil blondes, because I love Spike from Buffy, and Lestat from the Vampire Chronicles, lol. 

Lil_hula_writer—thank you so much for your review! J

Clarissa—yay! I've kept him in character then! J Thank you for reviewing, and Lucius says he's glad you find him likeable yet evil. J

Star—thanks for reviewing! Yes, I was looking for an unlikely pairing, and Lucius and Lily seemed as unlikely as it could possibly get J

AJRoald-- *smirks back* I see Lucius' smirks are getting contagious J

Briana Marie—Lucius is quite intrigued by your hints about that sub-plot between him and Lily. . . and so am I J Here, Petunia's showing a bit of her niceness. . . sort of. . . I mean, she actually called Lily her sister for once! J Of course, Lucius was being mean to her, but then again, he's always mean to people who are mean to Lily. . . aw, it's a bit sweet, don't you think? J

Black Snow—sorry it took so long to update! J Thanks for reviewing J

Dwen—well, more fluff, as requested! J Blame Lucius for the last bit, he was being very sadistic, you see. You know how deliciously bad men are, lol.

Anastacia--*sigh* I wish I could change the future. . . Lucius and Lily are so right for each other! Opposites attract, right? *sigh* My friend was telling me to write another version of this story that starts out the same way but ends with both of them together J Still considering it, but I don't know what Lucius wants J