Guilty Pleasure

Lucius Malfoy squinted as he emerged from the dim confines of The Leaky Cauldron into the sun-drenched London streets. He inclined his head slightly, closed his eyes, and inhaled. “Muggles,” he exhaled as though the word itself left a rancid taste in his mouth. His lids opened reluctantly and sharp blue eyes scanned with distaste. Weasely would wet himself.

Lucius snorted indignantly at the thought of his incompetent co-worker, then snapped his cane up, catching it smartly in his right hand, and stepped out onto the sidewalk, eager to complete his errand and return to civilization as quickly as possible. He moved, as ever, in perfect confidence of himself. His platinum mane lay heavy over his shoulders, being lifted only slightly by the light breeze now and then. His long, black cloak billowed in his wake as he proceeded with graceful, purposeful strides. His head he held high, surveying the scene about him with equal parts disgust and indifference.

Because of his certainty in his own superiority, the striking wizard paid no attention to the stares and whispers that he drew from those surrounding him. Never once did it occur to him to even consider the opinions of the muggles. They were vermin, and if vermin had opinions – which he somehow doubted – they were certainly of no interest to Lucius Malfoy.

At last he reached his destination, an obscure shop that specialized in ‘peculiar oddities’ called The Curiosity Shoppe. The owner, one Cordelia Farraday, was a witch, and an enterprising one at that. Her former location on Diagon Alley had been struggling to stay in business, but recently lost the struggle. There was nothing particularly peculiar or odd about her merchandise in the wizarding world. At best, her shop was a last resort for sometimes hard-to-find potion ingredients, herbs, or rare remedies. It wasn’t enough to stay open, and a month ago she had closed the doors, announced a plan to relocate and left. There seemed to be a place in the non-magical world for Cordelia’s type of shop, however, and so she had taken advantage of the muggles’ natural curiosity about her inventory and reinvented her business in London.

It was a work-related mission, one that Weasley should have been assigned to, but for whatever reason the Ministry had sent Lucius instead. He couldn’t prove it, but he had the distinct feeling that he was being punished, repaid for some crime he hadn’t committed. (Well, he probably had, but no one had proof of anything.) Still, he had been given the menial tasking of procuring some powdered mandrake root. A harsh season had taken its toll on the mandrake crop, so the valuable remedy had become scarce. Shops on Diagon Alley and throughout all of Hogsmeade had run out. Hogwarts was perhaps the only place that had managed to retain a meager supply. And with the tense climate these days, one could never have enough on hand. These were dangerous times. Of course Lucius Malfoy personally had very little concern about that. But the Ministry, misguided as it was, saw things differently. Imbeciles. Lucius only hoped the day was coming when things would be different. When things would be as they once had been.

He entered the small musty shop with a jingle of the overhead bell. He crossed the creaking wooden floor in five neat strides, pulling his leather gloves from his hands one finger at a time, and came to an abrupt halt. His eyes rested on the young muggle woman behind the counter. Cordelia seemed to be absent.

“M-may I help you, sir?” the woman asked softly. Her brown eyes were wide with wonder, and she fidgeted with her hair, tucking it behind her ears. She swallowed hard when Lucius didn’t reply right away. He stared down at her, enjoying the raw fear he felt emanating from her. Frightened, stupid muggle. And rightly so. But was it only fear he sensed?

“Lucius Malfoy,” he said at last, pronouncing his name as though it were made up of the most important syllables in the English language. A flicker of recognition crossed the young woman’s pale face, and Lucius cocked his head ever-so-slightly. “You have something for me I believe…” he raised a curious eyebrow, reading the name on the tag pinned to the muggle’s cheap shirt, “…Charlotte?” He took care to caress her name as he spoke it in his seductive drawl.

As expected, the muggle’s eyelids fluttered and she exhaled for somewhat longer than necessary. Lucius congratulated himself silently. So there was more than fear, he had thought so. Whether witch or muggle, he had always had a decided advantage over females. Witches could be somewhat more difficult at times, but he had never encountered a muggle woman yet that could resist him. It almost made this inane errand worthwhile. Almost.

“Yes,” the woman said softly, and she slowly turned, her eyes reluctant to look away from him until the last moment. She went into a back room, her hands running through her hair, smoothing her skirt, heels clicking with each slow step. When she returned, she looked flushed as she handed the package to him, eyes lowered beneath her lashes. “Here you are,” she whispered, and Lucius saw her bite her lower lip and then glance up at him shyly.

Charming, he thought to himself. It had been quite a long time since he had taken a muggle woman. On the whole it was usually a mundane practice; they were far too easy to conquer. This one looked ready to throw herself at his mercy any moment now. Pure vanity was to blame for why this should excite him so. He looked down into the wide eyes full of awe and adoration, seeing himself reflected as the young woman saw him. Powerful and irresistible.

Of course there was the other side to the coin. Lying with a muggle should be disgraceful. No self-respecting wizard would ever do such a thing. Lucius had chided himself for it often – for his inexplicable weakness for such a loathsome temptation. But perhaps that was also part of the allure. It was wrong – so deliciously wrong – of him.

“Thank you, Charlotte,” he said in a velvet voice that once again weakened his newfound prey. She seemed to buckle slightly, and again her hands sought her hair. Oh she was ripe for the taking. Poor, sweet little thing.

Lucius reached a hand slowly towards the woman’s face and was rewarded as she melted her flushed cheek into his palm. His eyes stayed on her chest, rising and falling rapidly with expectation. He was just thinking how unfair it was to have such a decided advantage over other living creatures when there came a loud jingle, dragging him from the slow, sultry moment at hand.

“Malfoy! Come for the mandrake then, have you? That’s my last batch. Tell that lot at the Ministry not to waste it. It’ll be next season before we see anymore.” Cordelia Farraday bustled across the floor unpinning her violet bonnet.

Damn. Lucius stiffened at the rude interruption and stared daggers through the witch’s back. Charlotte had immediately staggered off to attend to her work. Cordelia stopped short when she saw the woman’s face. “What’s happened to you, love? You look absolutely flushed! Haven’t been moving those cauldrons around again have you? I told you they’re much too heavy.”

“No ma’am,” Charlotte mouthed, and her eyes drifted to Lucius. Cordelia followed the glance herself and then snapped back around to Charlotte who immediately looked away.

“Oh, I see,” the elderly witch said as she narrowed her eyes and once again looked at Lucius. She sauntered over, pinning him to the spot with an accusatory glare. “Got here just in time did I?” she hissed under her breath as she brushed past him and plucked her apron off a wooden peg.

Lucius snarled at the suggestion, but when Cordelia failed to look convinced of his innocence he simply rolled his eyes in disgust, gathered his cane, gloves, and purchase, and wheeled on his heel. “Good day,” he snapped as he blew out of the shop in a whirlwind of black velvet. The only remnants of his presence were the lingering jingle of the overhead bell, and the still shaken young woman who stared after him.

“Gah!” Cordelia waved her hand dismissively at the door and grimaced. “Nasty piece of work that one.” She looked over at Charlotte who was obviously still under his spell. “Just you be glad I came in when I did! You don’t want to tangle with the likes of Lucius Malfoy.”

Charlotte blinked at last and cleared her throat. “Tangle? I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.” She busied herself straightening the boxes of dried mice on the shelf. What anyone would need dried mice for she couldn’t imagine.

“Don’t you now?” Cordelia snipped a bat’s wing from an inert little body, tossed the remains in a pail and the wing in a basket, then set her trimming shears down carefully. She crossed the floor wiping her hands on her apron. “You’re not fooling me. I saw your face. Just you wipe it out of mind, you hear? You have no idea how much danger you were in just now. You’d best hope you never lay eyes on him again.”

And with that, Cordelia gave a curt nod of her head to emphasize her point, and returned to her wing-clipping. She would say no more.

Charlotte sighed and went back behind the counter to await any future customers. As she stood with one foot crossed behind the other at the ankle, she propped her elbows on the counter-top and rested her chin in her palm. She stared out into the street, lost in thoughts of the mesmerizing Lucius Malfoy.


The silver serpent on the tip of the cane struck the bricks one at a time and the wall melted away to allow passage back to Diagon Alley. Lucius hesitated for the first time in his life before crossing the threshold from the world he detested back to his own. He threw a glance over his shoulder, then shook his head and laughed at his own absurdity. Over a muggle! He squared his shoulders and stepped through, and the barrier rebuilt itself at once behind him.