The Eye Of The Gazer

Chapter 6

Lucius Malfoy walked determinedly towards the lake at Gildenford Hall. As he strode along, his cloak blowing in the stiff breeze, he saw someone was sitting in the stone pavilion overlooking the water. His heart lifted slightly and he walked a little faster. As he approached the pavilion, he could see that it was definitely a female figure. It was not until he reached the structure, its stone walls hiding her from his view, that he realised it was not Jane Currer who sat there. Lucius would have turned to go, but he had made no effort to walk quietly, and the sitter had heard him. Her head turned towards him, and the face of Hermione Granger stared back at him, firstly showing surprise and then guarded dislike. Neither spoke: it was a clash of wills as to who would break the silence first.

Finally, Hermione said flatly, "Good morning, Mr Malfoy. I assume it wasn't me you were expecting? Jane is teaching Bryony just now. We changed over today because I had an appointment at the university earlier this morning. Jane will be finished at noon, and then I'll take over. If you want to wait here for Jane, I'll leave."

So saying, she stood up, and made as if to pass him by. But before she did, Hermione stood on the top step looking down at Lucius. He looked back at her, his loathing evident, but he said nothing.

Lucius noted with slight surprise that Hermione Granger had turned into quite an attractive witch. Since Cho had taught her how to do her hair, her natural brown curls, prettily ruffled by the wind, fell over her shoulders and framed her face. Her bright, intelligent hazel eyes met his gaze defiantly with a look of scorn in them. Lucius could not help but admire her spirit, even though she was a Mudblood. He allowed his own eyes to travel over her body as if he were examining a potential purchase at a livestock show. He could see this made her uncomfortable, so he deliberately continued, a slight smirk on his face.

"Finished your inspection, Mr Malfoy?" she asked him. "Do I pass muster?"

"Only just, I'm afraid," he answered airily. She threw him a look of pure hate. "Of course, the bloodlines aren't very satisfactory in your case, are they? What can one expect?" He was taunting her deliberately, and relishing her discomfiture.

Hermione walked down the steps. He did not move, so she was forced to walk very close to him. Lucius looked down on her, then suddenly brought up his cane so that the silver snake head forced up her chin. Hermione was not expecting this, and for the first time, a flash of fear appeared in her eyes. The cane moved along her jaw line and up the side of her face, the cobra head cold against her skin.

Lucius felt a sudden desire to take her. The thought of her struggling against him added to the feeling. He stepped towards her, and gripped her chin with a gloved hand. Hermione's head was now imprisoned between the hand and the cane, and her eyes now darted uncertainly from side to side. Lucius could hear her ragged breathing, and he felt himself hardening.

Suddenly, he came to his senses. It had never been Lucius' modus operandi to take a woman against her will: he had practised many forms of cruelty, but never that, although he had observed other Death Eaters demonstrating their power, violating women because as Death Eaters they could do so and remain unpunished. There were other considerations too: he was on Chang property, he did not know who might see him. If caught, the Changs might prevent him from seeing his daughter. Jane might happen along. Cho might find out. What would they all think of him?

Last of all, this female was a Mudblood. This had always been his strongest motive for avoiding rape, for the Death Eaters' victims were primarily Muggles or Mudbloods. The thought of contaminating his body in such a way was unthinkable.

Lucius released Hermione, and ignoring her completely, climbed up the steps into the pavilion to wait.

Hermione staggered away from the stone pavilion towards the house, hardly seeing where she was going. Eventually, she began to walk normally, and then she paused to take a few deep breaths. She glanced over her shoulder, and could just see the silhouette of Lucius sitting in the pavilion. She looked around, and seeing the entrance to the walled garden nearby, she entered, found a seat, and sat down gratefully, gradually recovering her composure.

Hermione tried to make sense of what had just happened. Lucius Malfoy had never been physically aggressive to her before, although he was always arrogantly scornful in her presence. This time, she had felt a genuine fear when he touched her, but that was not all. She sat, trying to analyse what had gone through her mind and body. Eventually, reluctantly, she had to admit to herself what the feeling was: she had been aroused. While feeling revulsion for this former Death Eater, she had simultaneously wanted that gloved hand to caress her face and neck, and the cold touch of his cane had sent a shiver down her spine. Hermione was horrified, and could not believe it of herself. She shuddered, and swore that she would try and avoid future contact with Lucius at all costs; but a tiny voice in the back of her mind murmured that if she was honest with herself, she actually wanted desperately to see and feel him again.

The following day, Lucius approached the stone pavilion once more. He could see from a distance that it was empty. When he reached it, he sat inside and waited as he had done yesterday: Jane Currer had failed to make an appearance the day before. He had not been surprised. He wondered what Hermione Granger had told her. He wondered if Jane would ever come this way again if she thought she might meet Lucius. She now probably had two reasons to avoid him. But he would try waiting here anyway.

Lucius had been sitting for what seemed like an age, the coldness of the stone eventually seeping through his outer clothing, when he heard a slight noise, and turned to identify its source. He saw Jane walking towards him, the hood of her cloak protecting her head against the fine drizzle now falling. He stood as she approached, intending that she should see him clearly, lest she was unaware of his presence: he had no wish to scare her. Jane continued to walk towards him, and she accepted his proffered hand, allowing him to guide her up the steps. She stood for a moment looking up at him, her head thrown back, then she sat down opposite him, arranging her skirts so that the hem, damp from her route over the grass, was not touching her legs. Jane pushed her hood backwards to her shoulders, unnecessarily smoothing her brown hair away from her forehead. Raindrops glistened on her lashes and cheeks. Lucius felt a great temptation to wipe them away, but instead he offered her a monogrammed lawn handkerchief, which she accepted gratefully.

"Miss Currer, I'm very pleased to see you," said Lucius at last, "In fact doubly so because you chose to brave the weather to come here."

Jane blushed a little, and replied, "Mr Malfoy, you were so very determined we should meet. It was not raining when you arrived, I know, but I saw you sitting here for such a long time, that I felt I must reward your patience." She gave a small smile at his surprise. "I used a spyglass at the house, it allows one to see a great deal from a distance. It's a very useful Muggle invention."

Lucius forced himself not to shudder at this, but instead congratulated himself on his self control the day before: he had been right to be wary on Chang soil. "We are even then, Miss Currer," he observed. "You braved the English rain - although it is supposed to be responsible for the beauty of the complexions of English witches, so perhaps a slight soaking has its compensations – and I endured a wait on a stone seat so cold that I can no longer feel my backside, for which I can think of no beneficial side effect whatsoever. It seems we both wished for this meeting."

Jane did not reply, instead she blushed a deeper shade of crimson. Now that she had run out of things to do, having rearranged her robes yet again, and run her hands over her face and hair more than once, she was at a loss. Lucius broke the silence.

"I owe you an apology, Miss Currer. I now recall what I said to upset you. I will not repeat it. Just allow me to say, that I like very much to have you near me. You have a very pleasant voice, calm and measured, and I like to hear you speak. You have beautiful clear eyes, and you look me in the face as do very few others. You are very careful about your appearance. You are always tidy and neat, your hair shines in the sun, in fact I wonder how it would look were it not so primly arranged. Your figure - what I can see of it beneath those robes you choose to wear - is very shapely. You did not deserve what I said.

"Am I forgiven?"

As Lucius finished this speech, that he had rehearsed to himself not a few times, he crossed over to sit beside her, took her hand, lifted it to his mouth, and kissed her palm. He did not release her hand, but held it gently in his lap, still looking deeply into the grey eyes he had just complimented. Jane was now almost magenta with embarrassment, but he could tell it was pleased embarrassment. "Yes," she whispered.

Lucius leaned forwards, slowly, so that this timid bird should not fly away, and she did not move away from him. As he kissed her, she responded willingly, giving a small sigh. Lucius enveloped Jane in his arms, and kissed her more thoroughly, tentatively putting his tongue into her mouth. At first she flinched, and he withdrew, but she then opened her eyes, which said "yes" so clearly, that he tried once more, and this time she responded eagerly.

Aware of what Jane had just said to him, Lucius knew that there might be spies in the house. Also, they were almost in the open air on a damp, chilly English day, and he was fairly certain that Jane Currer was very inexperienced in the ways of love. He therefore contented himself with no more than lingering passionate kisses. There would undoubtedly be chance for more at a later date. He could feel Jane responding to him, and his groin ached longingly in return, but he was conscious of not rushing her. His own needs he could deal with later.

Lucius released Jane, and she lay her head on his shoulder. She seemed more relaxed now, as Lucius held her to him, and stroked her hair. "How old are you, Jane?" he asked.

"Twenty, Sir," she replied.

"Only twenty? You seem so mature in some ways for such a young woman. And Jane, in these circumstances, I think it would be appropriate for you to call me 'Lucius'. You are not, as you have so frequently reminded me, my servant."

"Whatever you say, Lucius," she replied softly, savouring his name on her tongue. "It's a beautiful name," she said, "It means 'light' doesn't it? It's very appropriate, with your silver hair."

"It used to be more gold than silver, my dear, but age has changed it to the lesser metal. Jane, I want to ask you something personal."

"Yes, Sir – I mean, Lucius - what do you want to know?"

"Jane, have you ever been with a man? Are you a virgin?"

Jane looked up at him in shock at the audacity of this direct question, then cast her eyes downwards again, blushing once more. "Yes."

"Saving yourself for your future husband, perhaps?"

Jane looked up at him again, but this time she looked hurt. "Mr Malfoy," she said deliberately, "Please don't laugh at me. That was a very unkind thing to say. You are not the only man who prefers the company of beautiful women. I do not have the luxury of saving myself, as you put it. You must be aware that I am unlikely to get many offers of marriage, or indeed I may get none at all."

Lucius held Jane under her chin, and lifted her face so that he could kiss her again, silencing her protest. He made the embrace last a long time, simultaneously teasing one ear with the tips of his fingers, while holding her firmly with his other arm. She fought him at first, and then gave in. Lucius felt her press against his chest, her arms flung around his neck. When he was sure she had been thoroughly subjugated, he let her go. He could see she was aroused, even if she did not know what to do with the feeling, her nipples visible through the fabric of her bodice, her cloak thrown back over her shoulders.

"Before you say any more, I must explain myself," he said. "I was not laughing at you. You must understand that I have been used to being the one pursued. I am unaccustomed to inexperienced women such as yourself. All the witches I have met over the years have stated only too clearly what they wish from me.

"I only wish to know if you have any moral objections to a physical relationship without marriage? Because if you do not, would you allow me the honour of being your first?"