Chapter Three
Charity stood in the Malfoy's grand Front Hall, the Portkey shaped like an age-old diary dangling from her fingers. She was alone, as always. She knew, going into this home, which she would have, at the very least, some power over the powerful Lucius Malfoy.
Within a moment or two, Lucius himself strolled into the Hall to greet her. He was a tall and physically dominant man; his pale hair elegantly fell to his broad shoulders. His eyes were liquid ice, but with none of the mystery associated with pale blue. The pupils were dark as slugs, crawling over her body, coldly assessing her, his thin lips stretched in imitation of a welcoming smile. Chariot knew not to cross him unless she absolutely had to, this summer.
"Welcome to the Manor, Chariot." He held out his hand. Chariot didn't want to touch it.
She shook his hand and returned his fallacious smile. His hands were ice and unwanted chills slid up Chariot's arm. "Thank you for having me this summer, Lucius." She took a stab at civility. They were working together, after all.
Lucius pulled a tiny silver bell from a pocket in his black trousers. Within the one ring it made, a house elf appeared at their side. His tiny banged-up body, bluish skin, golf-ball sized eyes and bat-ears in the dilapidated sack made Chariot want to cry. Having servants was one thing, but treating them badly? Chariot knew what the line was for cruelty and Lucius Malfoy had just leapt over it.
"Take our guest to the Guest Wing, where she shall be staying." The little elf nodded and started down the hallway. "We dress for dinner. Be ready at seven-thirty." This time he addressed Chariot who met his cold eyes with equal indifference and nodded.
Chariot turned from Lucius Malfoy and walked down the Hall, making sure to hold herself straight as an iron rod with her head held high. She was afraid of only one man, and it was not Lucius Malfoy. She was his equal no matter what he thought he knew.
She and the elf walked in silence for a good fifteen minutes through corridors hung with dark, miserable drapery, no matter how luxurious, and poor illumination.
"What's your name, little elf?" she asked.
The elf stopped dead in his tracks so quick that Chariot almost stepped on him. "You, you want to know my name, miss?" His shock was genuine. When she nodded in confusion he wrung his small hangs and his shrill voice was almost frantic. "No, no. It is not fitting!" Chariot knelt down beside him and looked into his huge brown eyes.
"You don't have to tell me your name if you don't want to, little elf," she said and smiled.
The poor little elf couldn't meet her eyes. That was a resounding 'no', Chariot guessed. "Ok, then. No offense taken. I will just call you 'little elf.'" Chariot's heart almost broke when he looked up at her smiling, glad that he wouldn't have to disobey his master.
Almost immediately, Chariot bit her lip. Surely she was being watched. And this act of kindness would surely be seen as weakness. And weakness was not acceptable was practically her motto Her stomach tightening, she followed the elf, praying to the gods of Hell that this incident wouldn't kick her in the backside later.
When they reached the Guest Wing, Little Elf left her alone to settle into her suite. 'Not too shabby,' Chariot thought as she walked through the Foyer. This was not like the rest of the house. It was painted in subtle earth tones, comforting furniture and art decorated the room. From where she stood, Chariot could see French doors leading out to a cast-iron balcony. She walked around and explored more.
In fifteen minutes, Chariot found that her suite in the Wing had its own two bedrooms; one with a window seat looking out onto a striking flower garden with adjoining bathroom and the other room was a living/study room with a desk, couch, bookcases provided with a few books, and, of course, the balcony.
That night, Chariot dressed in a pretty little black dress for dinner that was, while little, appropriate. She finger-combed her swing of blonde hair and tied a string of pearls around her neck. A couple rings on her fingers and she was ready to go. Chariot didn't bother with makeup tonight. She was not going to dress up too much for her hosts. Chariot didn't dress for anyone but herself.
Chariot and Lucius' wife, Narcissa, took their seats first. She tried to make pleasant conversations with her, but, as Chariot soon found out, Narcissa was dumber than a post, to put it nicely.
When Lucius arrived, he poured them a rich red wine and took his seat. No talk whatsoever. Chariot pretended to be immersed in a painting which hung on the wall behind Narcissa's head and sipped her wine. When the food arrived, Chariot was so grateful for something to do; afterwards, she had no idea what she'd eaten.
"My son will be joining us within the week," Lucius said with pride. "Draco's seventeen. The same age as you, Chariot, I believe."
'What a piece of useless information,' Chariot thought. She was here to work, not get friendly with some spoiled kid of Lucius Malfoy. "Wonderful," she commented instead. For the rest of the meal, she tried to keep the conversation light and non-Death-Eater related. But that proved difficult.
When they finished, Lucius left without a word, then Narcissa. So Chariot left too, wondering how she would survive the summer.
Two weeks later, Chariot sat on her bedroom window seat. She could see them outside greeting Lucius from a trip. The younger Malfoy had arrived a week ago. His father and mother had collected him, taking a car to London. They hadn't met yet. The boy looked tall, not as tall as his father, but tall. He looked skinny from her point of view, but that was hard to see. He also had his father's blond hair, but it was shorter, maybe hitting his shoulders. Chariot stared out the window until she wasn't looking at anything at all. They had already gone inside.
Little Elf knocked on her door and poked his bat-like head in. "Master requests you come downstairs, Miss Chariot," he said nervously, wringing his hands.
Chariot gave herself a mental shake and stood. She didn't need the elf to lead her around anymore. She could navigate to the family's Formal Living and Dining rooms and, of course, the Front Hall, by herself.
Before entering the Front Hall, Chariot checked herself in a hall mirror. Her cheeks were a little sunburned from being outside, but other than that, her skin was its usual paleness. Her darker blonde hair hung around her face, contrasting with her skin. Today her eyes were the usual gray and pierced her own reflection. Chariot glanced down at her clothes. A long, loose skirt and a sleeveless shirt: acceptable. The picture of innocence.
She stopped herself, realizing what she was doing. She didn't care about meeting the son, Chariot scolded herself. She took a deep breath and strode into the Hall. Show time.
When she rounded the corner, she collided with a pair of eyes. The palest of blues and hard and smooth like steel. The young Malfoy looked like solid ice. Smooth like steel. When she'd regained her own senses, Chariot saw something in the boy's eyes. Was it surprise? Whatever it was, it slipped away, leaving only coldness, hiding itself well.
"Draco, this is our…houseguest, Chariot," Lucius said. He'd purposely left off her purpose at their home. Chariot guessed he'd already told Draco about her in the car. "Chariot, this is our son, Draco."
Chariot smiled. He was more handsome than she wanted him to be and he smirked at her. "Pleased to meet you," she managed to keep her voice strong.
He looked her up and down and shook her hand, smiling ruthlessly. 'Ruthless and reckless,' Chariot thought.
"Hello, Chariot." His voice was deeper than she would've thought.
They were silent.
"Why don't you two change and go outside. Get to know one another. Hmm?" Narcissa asked pleasantly. It was the first time Chariot had heard Narcissa speak in a nice, motherly tone. Draco nodded. It appeared Chariot had no other option.
They left the Hall, his parents watching them. Chariot could feel the older Malfoy's eyes on her. She had to restrain herself from gagging. She loathed that man.
"Do you want to take a swim?" Draco asked agreeably when they were out of hearing-range of his parents.
Chariot looked him up and down, searching for a motive. "Sure. Meet you in the kitchen in fifteen minutes?"
When he nodded, she went back to her room.
Standing at the bureau, Chariot stared at her reflection in the mirror. She was pretty enough. Her body was supple and firm in all the right places. Maybe if Draco could be seduced he could be used to her advantage. She'd never tried this tactic before, but if she could pull it off, Draco could be infinitely useful in the future.
Decidedly, Chariot swabbed a bit of ruby lip stain from a jar of makeup. From her drawer, she found a black bikini that looked particularly good on her and slipped a pale green sundress over her head. She sat down at the vanity mirror in her room. A little sunscreen and a hair tie around her wrist and she left.
Chariot was in the kitchen fifteen minutes later and Draco was already there. He was wearing a pair of black trunks and a loose white linen shirt, the front unbuttoned. He had grabbed two fluffy white towels and they sat on a counter.
"Iced tea?" he asked when she approached him, maybe a little too eagerly.
"Sure," Chariot said with a smile as he slipped a chilled glass of the brown liquid with a red straw into her hand. Taking the towels under his arm, he led them outside to the pool.
The pool house was a wooden shack with crude windows that was magically air conditioned with a hot tub inside. Outside, he pool itself was carved from the rock outside and had a small waterfall in the corner. Hot sunshine spilled down on their shoulders as they walked across the hot stone.
Draco pulled out a couple of wooden chairs and dropped the towels on a table in-between. Then stripped off his shirt. Chariot didn't pretend not to stare. His upper body was muscled, but not overly so. Surprisingly broad shoulders tapered down to the low-slung waist. She'd been right. His platinum hair just hit his shoulders and fell shaggily into his eyes. The seventeen-year-old was gorgeous, Chariot had to admit. But she'd met far more beautiful men in her short lifetime and they hadn't impressed her. This one would not be the exception.
Draco sat down and sipped his iced tea. Chariot sat, but she kept her dress on, and sipped the tea.
"So how old are you, anyway?" he asked, eyeing her.
"Old enough." Automatically, Chariot's eyes smiled seductively back at him. She couldn't resist. "Why?"
"No reason. Are you really a Death Eater?"
Chariot didn't answer.
"'How do I know?' you ask. I hear things around this place, Chariot. I hear things."
Chariot swallowed hard, but stretched out on the chair lazily.
When she finished her tea, Chariot stood and turned her back to Draco, pulled the dress over her head. Slowly, she waded into the cold water. Dunking her head under, she swam into the middle of the pool. After a little while of bobbing up and down, Chariot did a couple laps. She was at the other end, but she felt the disturbance in the water as he got in.
"Want to race?" he called down to her, a maniac grin on his face.
Chariot had to smile. "If you think you're up to it," she said and kicked off, starting the race.
Twenty minutes later, Chariot's lungs screamed for oxygen. Not ready to lose, she slapped the side and turned to begin the next lap. Draco grabbed her wrist.
"Stop! I give in. Uncle! Uncle!" he gasped.
"Good. Thank Merlin. I thought I might have to die young," she wheezed, her voice raspy.
Chariot threw herself half up on the edge, her arms flailed in front of her and her cheek resting on the warm stone. She breathed heavily, catching her breath. He climbed up to sit on the edge, his breath equally ragged, his legs hanging in the water. When her cheek began to grow hot, Chariot copied Draco's position and sat on the ledge. Both of their breathing had slowed and deepened. They sat side by side in the silence.
Slowly, Draco turned toward her and gently, sweetly, kissed her. Once quickly, then looked into her eyes as if asking permission.
'Now,' she thought and let her lips linger on his.
Draco's hands found their way to her cheeks and held her in place, deepening the kiss. She had a hunger for him she didn't even know existed. Strangely enough, this was her first real kiss.
Her arms gripped themselves on his shoulders, pulling him towards her. His found her back and tipped her onto the stone, pinning her under him. He held himself balanced on his palms and came to his senses. His breath ragged once again, he sat up, taking his hands off her, embarrassed.
Chariot sat up, her face hot and flushed. Her breath was heavy as she stood silently and toweled herself off. Inside, she glowed with her victory, her very first in seduction. From a secret glance at his burning fact and eyes wandering her body, Chariot knew she'd intoxicated him. Lust was so telling.
From above, she could see Lucius Malfoy sitting up high in a window, watching them. And without a word, walked back to Draco and gave him a last, gentle kiss. Lastly, she pulled the sundress over her wet head and, with the towel and glass in hand, strode back into the house.
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