She shivered, feeling like a deer caught under a predator's hypnotizing stare; hard silver pools dancing across her face and form with barely concealed fascination. Almost as if he could see right through her… read her thoughts…
Was it possible?
Could he be a Legilimens?
There was so little she knew about him. He was a deeply unpleasant man, for sure, and she was roughly aware of his Pureblood values, but she'd also scoffed at the blatant arrogance and sense of superiority that resided within the Malfoy family and perhaps underrated the level of intelligence among them. Especially Lucius. She had simplified her view of him over the years, collected from outside prejudice against his family, and never taken the time to even consider if his motivations might be more complex than they appeared.
Actually, when she thought about it, he was far too unpredictable, and she wasn't at all sure how to read him. He didn't seem as batshit crazy like some Death Eaters, like Bellatrix, but that didn't mean he wasn't deranged in his convictions. His actions, so far, at least, confirmed it.
Still, was his allegiance with Voldemort grounded in personal pride and self-importance, ideological convictions or fear for himself and his family's safety?
Perhaps a bit of everything?
Ginny silently balked. Was she really standing here, a foot away from a sadistic supremacist, contemplating his motives of behavior? Was she actually trying to find sympathy for this man?!
Her throat constricted in repulsion.
Yet, she still couldn't let go of the thought now that it had been planted in her head: What if Lucius' intentions had shifted after his time in Azkaban? Oh, he'd probably be just as egotistical in his motives as before, but… perhaps he had–
No. She berated herself for even thinking it.
Her defiance hadn't quite left her and she glared back at him in what quickly became a silent battle of wills that, unfortunately, only seemed to spark his interest further, his head angling towards her.
She was granted a hint of that same elusive smile, usually born of pure arrogance, now more secretive and tilted in a curious curve. Still, she wasn't so sure those curved lips didn't hide a forked tongue.
A frisson of nervousness prickled under her skin, and she finally veered her eyes away from Malfoy. His attention was stifling.
Gnawing on her lip, her eyes flickered toward the rest of the company who was amidst regaling some sordid tale of a particularly ghoulish raid against an unwitting Muggle family; some laughing in crude relish, while others simply looked bored and disturbingly unaffected.
Ginny silently railed at herself for not having Hermione's studious nature, then she might have read up on the followers of Voldemort beforehand and gained some kind of advantage if ever caught in a situation such as this. Something she could use against them. It seemed ludicrous, she knew, to even expect such knowledge would ever get her out of her present, critical circumstances: She was painfully outnumbered and knew none of the other Death Eaters. Would this turn physical? Or was there more psychological torture involved? Malfoy might seem a wizard more prone to the latter.
And while the threat of rape lay prickling like thick air between them, she felt he had 'at least' put his foot down concerning the subject. For now. Who knew if he had similar intentions himself once he had claimed her as a prize, whatever that meant.
She forced her breathing to slow down, though her pulse was at a steady gallop, heart thumbing along in her ears.
As far as she knew, the elder Malfoy was still married to Narcissa, though she had no idea how they fared as a couple. Wizarding 'royalty' such as they weren't exactly known for heartwarming marriages based on love and companionship. It was all about status and benefits. She was pretty sure the Malfoys were tradition-bound in that case. But they only had one child, and the dire fate of Draco was still in the hands of Voldemort. Perhaps Lucius wasn't merely fearing for his only off-spring but for the survival of his entire lineage altogether?
She paled at the thought, preposterous as it was, as it was slowly forming. He-he wouldn't- he couldn't –
Was that Voldemort's 'gift' to him? Was that his plan? Securing the pureblooded ancestry of his second-most loyal follower in any case; however Draco's fate should be determined?
Her eyes slid back to the mercurial gaze boring into hers.
Or was it his?