The Radiant

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When she woke up, she was facing the balcony windows, peering at the light that was struggling, trying to force its way into the room from underneath and between the curtains. Focusing her eyes, Ginny noticed a large-spanned hand next to her head, draped over her right shoulder, pressing her slightly into the bed, the fingers of the hand planted on the bed sheet. Leaning back slightly, she could feel the heated mass of a body hovering behind her, and she turned within the arm holding her and looked at him.

He was lying on his side, his eyelashes fanned out across his skin like whipmarks, his mouth relaxed in sleep – full and soft – and his breath evenly paced and deep. As she watched him she was struck with how entirely exquisite he was – how fine-formed, how shining, how distinguished, how beautiful even in advancing age, even with the so subtle threads of silver that were laced through his hair, silver that she could only see now so close to him. Reaching out, she slicked her fingertips over his high eyebrows, his eyelashes, the ridge of his nose, and his eyes opened and she had a feeling that he had been awake the entire time.

“Good morning.” She was so close to him – incremental inches away from his face, so near that she could feel his deep, slow inhalations and the soft warm puff of his exhalations skittering across her cheekbone.

“Good morning.” His voice was still rusted from sleep.

Ginny smiled softly and reached a hand out to absentmindedly tug at a loosened piece of his hair, spearing her fingers through it, winding the lock around the tip of her pointer finger, pulling gently. Lucius hummed under his breath, still meeting her eyes, and mimicked the same action on her, looping one of her miscreant morning curls around his middle and ring fingers, running the hair through the cracks of his hand. Ginny juddered and closed her eyes as he released the hair and spread his hand out over her head, pressing his fingertips into her scalp, exerting just the right amount of pressure to make her hips move of their own accord. She was amazed at how large his hands were – how one hand could span her entire head, crush her maybe, rip her jaw out of her skull. She crooned wordlessly, bucking her head into his grip further as he massaged her head.

“Good girl,” he murmured, and she tugged a little harder on his hair, moving closer to him, mouthing at his chin, dragging her teeth over the skin there, seemingly having forgotten about her no sex vow, seemingly determined. He slung a leg over her and then he was astride her, naked still, and was kissing her so swiftly and deeply that her head was pressed back into the pillow. He was hard already and she could feel the damned heat of his skin through the thin, sheer cotton of his shirt, and when she moved, the shirt shifted, the hem rising, and the skin of his groin was against her, between her legs, and she gasped into him –

Lucius released her bottom lip from between his teeth, almost biting into it, drawing blood with his preternaturally sharp incisors. Pretenatural –

“My apologies.”

His voice was still dusty from sleep and was low and sweet in her ear. A massive shiver tickled down her spine and she couldn’t help but writhe.

“I must have moved in the night.”

And then he was grabbing her ear lobe between his teeth, pulling on it, his lips spiriting down over the drawn lines of her neck, ending down the slope of her shoulder before he placed a light kiss on it and moved away from behind her.

She nearly yelled out loud but instead closed her eyes, pushing her head back farther into the pillow, chewing on her lips.

“You have one hour.”

“What?” Ginny turned over and looked at him. He was standing, his naked back to her, hair pulled over one shoulder, looking back at her with a scrutinizing stare.

Adonis

“I’ve planned a trip for us.” She goggled. “We’re going to Greece.”

“No we are not.”

“Yes, we are. I don’t want to stay in the Manor because it reminds me of Draco and I’m not ready to think about that yet. And you want to play house with your questions and answers, and what better place to get to know each other better than locked in a villa together?” Ginny stared. “You can go pack things from your flat, if you wish. I’ve contacted the paper on behalf of you and they know that you are going on a three-week vacation.”

“What?” She was angry now, standing up on the bed, staring harder at him, her arms akimbo and her red hair gnarled around her neck. Lucius’ gaze was measured somewhere between her legs and she blushed, pulling the shirt down. “You can’t just bloody do that. You can’t just control my –”

“Yes, I can.”

She threw a pillow at him so quickly that it actually struck him before he realized that she had even moved, and Lucius remembered then that she had been a damn good Seeker back in her school days – Draco had been effusive about her even then. The pillow had catapulted from the bed – hard – and had hit him in the head. A square shot, it had made him stumble slightly. He looked at her. She was still standing in the centre of the bed, growling at him, nearly gnashing her teeth in his direction, her hair still branch-like and feral around her, her hands clenched, the hem of the shirt riding up just enough that he could see the shadow of pubic hair from between her legs.

Lucius crossed his arms.

Ginny furrowed her brow deeper than he thought possible and snarled.

“Yes, I can, Ginevra. I’m able to. I don’t want to do it often, but I’m doing it now. You wanted this. You wanted to get to know each other, and I don’t want to stay here. I can’t.” He looked up at her. “Will you come?”

Just like that, the face-off was broken. She sighed. There was a plaintive entreaty in there somewhere, layered underneath the arrogance and anger. She couldn’t say no.

“One hour.”


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She stood in the front hall of the Manor, fifty minutes having passed. She was early – she was always early. It had always irked her that Draco had been late all of the time, tearing around at the last minute, trying to find his tie, his shoe, his wand, his quill. Draco – she placed a hand over her diaphragm and for a moment struggled grievously to draw breath, feeling as though she were being wrung, choked –

“You’re early.”

She turned. He was striding down the stairs.

“What a stupid comment, Lucius.” Even as she was disparaging him, she was wide-eyed, cataloguing his physicality. He was dressed in light brown slacks and a white linen shirt, his hair pulled back tightly and braided neatly down his back. He was carrying a leather case.

“Don’t be rude. I was only just impressed. I hate tardiness.” She smiled at that.

“Where are we going in Greece?”

He continued down the stairs, purposefully ignoring her question. Walking measured steps toward her, his boots resounding dully across the polished floors and ceilings, he held out a hand to her, and when she took it, he stopped directly in front of her, loosely holding her hand and looking at her.

“Guess.”

“Guess?” She was agog. Lucius seemed too – what? Too old, too sophisticated, too bigoted for something as frivolous and wonderful as a guessing game.

“That’s what I said, yes.”

Ginny smiled a crooked smile at him. “I love guessing games. Kalamata?”

“Good god, you think with your stomach. No.” He was fingering the straps of her own bag now – a small bag, packed only with a few pairs of slacks and sandals and wispy dresses that she had bought but had never worn in the belligerent English weather, had only dared to buy them in a moment of frivolous weakness on her travels.

“Megara.”

“You resemble a Fury but no. I don’t need to see where Virgil died.” He was picking up her bag now, looking down at her with an amused look. “Are you picking at complete random?”

“Everything has a meaning with you, doesn’t it?”

“I try.”

“Mykonos?”

“Getting closer. Use that brain of yours and think back to your Greek history.”

Ginny pursed her lips. “I haven’t read that in a while.” She cocked her head to one side and thought for a quick moment, and then her head snapped up, her eyes clicking in her head like beads as they met his gaze, tinted by a smile.

“Good girl. You got it.”

He reached for her quickly and wrapped her in his arms and as she felt the tug of the Portkey, she heard him speak into her hair, against the top of her head.

“Delphi.”


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When she stopped reeling enough to stagger and try and stand on her own, she noticed first the heat – not exceedingly hot but surrounding her, embryonic. Ginny stood straight and slit open her eyes, letting herself begin to adjust to the brightness.

His voice was from behind her, moving as if he were circling her, pacing languidly, a home here. “Welcome to the centre of the earth.”

And then her eyes were open and she was staring, eyes glistering, her hands going from hanging limply at her sides to coming up to her face.

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Have to apologize, as there might be a delay in posting a new chapter - very busy time of the year, as you all know. Enjoy!