Durmstrang
Year 3
WWN Round 5
Writing School : The Art of Talking
Challenge: Write a ficlet with plenty of dialogue.
Optional Prompts:
[Character] Lucius Malfoy
[First line/Last line] The door remained closed.
Word count: 717
AN: Post war and it goes AU.
The door remained closed. Lucius wasn't surprised, after all, he'd really made a spectacle of himself. Who would have thought that throwing a party and not inviting your girlfriend would end in disaster? Everyone, probably.
But then, to his surprise, she opened the door. Her face betrayed nothing as she invited him into her home. Trembling, Lucius entered the apartment, his eyes never leaving hers.
They moved towards the living room and sat down in mirrored moves on the two armchairs.
"I didn't think you'd let me in," he said, breaking the silence.
"I was never going to keep you out Lucius." She smiled at him, reminding him of one of the many reasons he'd fallen in love with Luna Lovegood, her kindness.
"I know you're mad at me. And rightfully so, my dear."
She shook her head. "I'm not mad Lucius. But I wish you'd have spoken with me first before deciding I cannot take it coming to the manor."
Lucius sighed. "You're right… I just assumed."
"You know what they say about assuming things," she said, smiling slightly at him.
"Never assume anything!" he muttered, his gaze not leaving hers.
"Precisely!"
In a sudden movement, she rose from her armchair and came right next to him, kneeling at his side.
"Lucius, let's talk."
"Alright," he said and slid off the armchair on the floor to be on the same level as her.
"I know why you want to throw the party. You want something to celebrate Draco and Astoria's engagement. But I don't know why you don't want to invite me! Are you ashamed of me?"
Her voice was suddenly small and Lucius hated himself for it.
"No, my love. Of course not. If anything, you should be ashamed of me! I just… I didn't think you'd wanted to be back in the house where.. " His voice trailed off, unable to continue.
She grabbed his hand in hers. "The house where I've been tortured over ten years ago?"
He nodded. The memories had haunted him even before they'd gotten together. He'd been filled with regret over all the things he'd done and said that he'd never be able to take back.
However, it wasn't until he'd fallen in love with her that he'd realised what a terrible person he'd been.
"Oh Lucius," Luna sighed, her head resting on his shoulder. "Have you always felt like this? Is this the reason why you've never invited over to your house in the six months we've been together?" she asked.
"Yes. I didn't know how to speak to you about it and then… I was too ashamed to," he mumbled.
"Lucius!" she shouted, forcing him to look at her. "Love, you're not that person anymore. And it's been ten, almost eleven years since."
He inclined his head. "Perhaps, but I have once been. I got the mark to prove it."
His gaze turned to his left arm where the Dark Mark stood on this display. To his surprise, she put her hand over his arm, covering the mark.
"This doesn't define you," she said. "It may have once, but not now. The man who I met in the bookshop, the man who took me to Brazil for our two months anniversary… the man who swept me off my feet is not a Death Eater. "
"Perhaps," he murmured. "But my house… my house is the same house."
"Oh, love," she sighed. "And if it is? I went to therapy, you know. After the war. I made peace. We should have talked about it, but I thought that the very fact that I accepted to go out with you showed that I had moved past being held captive into your house. I should have thought you might have not."
Lucius felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and found himself smiling at her.
"Then, perhaps you'd help me plan the party?" he asked with a trembling voice.
"I'd be delighted," she answered and leaned in to give him a kiss to which he responded, putting his hands around her and bringing her closer.
Lucius knew that they'd have to talk more about it in the future, but for now, he was content to hold and kiss her. They had time after all: the rest of their lives.
