Mind of a Machiavellian

Lucius was led to a small room possessing a table and two chairs. He felt a slight tingling sensation as he entered, no doubt the increase in wards since this room was used for meetings and the protection of the visitor was imperative. After all, they may or may not be welcomed by the prisoner.

As he scratched at the enchanted manacles that bound his wrists, he found that his visitor was most unwelcome.

A young woman at least two decades younger than him sat in the chair on the other side of the grubby wooden table, looking quite poised in deep burgundy robes.

Her soft dark brown tresses were pulled up into a casual up do, a few buttery curls escaping to frame her oval face. Her eyes were large and the color of coffee, though not nearly as warm, and her mouth was somewhat small though the lips were quite plump and formed a natural pout. Her nose was in proportion to her face, though somewhat wide, and along with her bold brows and defined jaw added a look of masculine strength to the otherwise delicately featured face.

She held old world appeal and sophistication, which her robes further emphasized. They buttoned up onto her neck, and fine golden embroidery ran the length available to his vision. Her breasts swelled out from beneath the fabric, though the outfit was obviously not designed for their display.

Altogether it was an elegant if simple piece.

He didn’t dwell much more on the style of her apparel, as what really bothered him was the fact she was so well dressed and clean and presentable. It wasn’t her fault, but he felt unreasonable anger at the fact she would sit there in her finery while he wallowed in filth.

Her cool brown eyes trailed the length of his person as he stood there in the doorway, and if Lucius were capable of blushing this would have been the time for it. His appearance was gaunt and unkempt; his skin was in horrible condition as was his hair and the rags he wore wouldn’t have been good enough for his house elves.

Lucius felt such acute humiliation at her perusal and outrage at her presence that he was barely managing to keep his face devoid of emotion. Further insult was added when the guard who’d escorted him pushed his shoulder roughly, sending him stumbling, and further shutting the door loudly behind him.

Still, the girl’s expression did not change or reveal anything of what she was feeling. Or perhaps it was a correct summary of her lack of care at his treatment, either way Lucius was struggling to remain calm.

“Sit down, Mr. Malfoy, before you fall down.” She instructed disdainfully, her nose scrunching somewhat in irritation, or perhaps in reaction to his stench.

To be ordered about by this little slip of a woman was the straw that broke the proverbial camels back, and with far less dignity than he would have otherwise exhibited he stomped the small distance to the chair and slammed his hands onto the table in front of him, leaning in and over the slender woman who did not even flinch at his actions.

“Who are you and what could you possibly want?” he growled out, eyes blazing and lips snarling.

“Oh please, I didn’t come her for a show.” She responded dismissively. “There’s a bit of business to settle and I would prefer if it was done with some semblance of decorum, or has Azkaban robbed you of your tact as well?”

With a twitching lip and baleful stare, Lucius slowly considered her words, before lowering himself somewhat stiffly into the chair.

This seemed to be the cue she was waiting for as she turned to the side and began ruffling through papers contained in a large brown dragon hide bag.

“Very good. I was somewhat worried you’d have become mad in your time here, and that would have made my job much harder.” She told him distractedly as she looked through the contents of her carrier.

He himself was somewhat distracted by the smooth expanse of ivory neck exposed to him as she bent to look in the bag beside her.

He swallowed reflexively, realizing that 5 months had done his infamous libido no good, and tried to initiate further conversation if only to occupy his wandering thoughts.

With a clearing of his dry throat he began.

“I still don’t know who you are.” He managed, though his voice has somewhat husky from disuse, something he hadn’t noticed when he’d first reacted in fury.

“No… you wouldn’t recognize me, though we’ve met before. I’ve grown up some since we last saw each other.” The young woman seemed to find the parchment she was looking for, and in so doing lifted it to the table, looking at Lucius who was suddenly struck by the familiarity of features.

Suddenly an image passed through his mind, of that same face contorted in rage, those eyes lit with fiery purpose, and that feminine little mouth baring teeth ferociously.

“The mudblood…” he breathed, leaning back in his chair as the full extent of her change washed over him. She raised a defined brow at his choice of descriptive but said nothing.

He remembered her on the field of battle, unruly mane of hair whipping around her as she fired curses with speed and skill any Death Eater twice her age would have killed for. She truly was a lioness during that fight, and many of his peers had avoided confronting the aggressive Gryffindor after she’d dueled and defeated two members of the Dark Lord’s inner circle single handedly.

She looked very different now, or perhaps it was just her carriage. She seemed cold and aloof and it was bothering him that she would be so collected while he was so emotional.

The realization that a mudblood was outclassing him was all the motivation it took for him to revert fully back to his old manners.

“Then I shall repeat the latter of my initial question, what are you doing here?”

Her other brow rose to meet it’s fellow, and she relayed mild disbelief at his abrupt change.

“Well, that’s a bit better.” She remarked dryly. “I’m here on behalf of the Ministry, and also on behalf of your wife.”

“My wife?” he asked incredulously. “What could you possibly have to do with her?”

His wife had not yet sent him a letter or paid him a visit, not that he expected her to. Theirs had been a marriage of necessity and connection, meant to fulfill social expectations. They’d only ever really come together when at events or when trying to conceive, and since he was currently a dead weight to her standing in society following the fall of the Dark Lord and his consequential incarceration; he’d predicted the desertion.

“Well it appears she is somewhat unhappy with her remaining connections to you, and that they are preventing her from living her life to the fullest. In short, while she should be free she finds herself bound to you in a most unpleasant way.”

The little witch’s eyes bored into his uncaring ones.

“You’ll excuse me for feeling less than charitable towards her position.” He replied, angered yet flippant. “I have found myself literally imprisoned while she whines about simply being tied. You may forget that she herself followed the Dark Lord, that she hosted revels in her home, and was an active participant in his raids and supporter of his ideals. I myself have not forgotten her involvement, nor have I forgotten that while my life was ripped from me in punishment, she was simply given a slap on the wrist and then released to do as she pleases.”

The corner of the witch’s mouth lifted wryly in an action he found familiar though he couldn’t place it.

“You of course fail to realize the important areas in regards to her release.” She began, only to have Lucius interrupt her with a snort.

“Please, spare me the justification. She was released because the golden boy vouched for her. No more, no less.”

It was true, that during Narcissa’s trial, Harry Potter himself had made a presence, pleading for her innocence due to her crucial involvement at the end.

“Mr. Malfoy, she lied to Voldemort in order to save Harry’s life… in order to bring about his downfall…” again she was interrupted before she could finish.

“No!” again he felt this unfamiliar flow of overwhelming anger. “She lied to save her own son! She could care less for Harry, for Voldemort…”

“And that, Mr. Malfoy, is the point!” she volleyed, raising her voice. “You just don’t get it, do you? She never cared about Voldemort. She has been controlled by the men in her life since infancy, first her father, then you. She was strong armed into following him. She didn’t care about pureblood supremacy, or the eradication of muggleborns, she cared about her son. She cared about keeping him safe, and keeping him from the madman whom her husband forced her to serve! The Ministry understood that, and when you are coerced into doing something, especially when the safety of your child is threatened, the blame is lightened and your motivations taken into consideration.”

This was the mudblood he’d remembered. Again she radiated passion and righteous fury, like some avenging angel sent down to punish wretches like him in the name of the virtuous.

“That is a nice story, if false.” He replied simply, his fight dying as he realized the futility of the conversation. Speaking with people like this was useless. They never listened to alternative points of view, never considered they might be wrong. He might as well argue with the table.

The woman calmed herself, and though her nostrils remained flared, a sure sign of her affliction, she again donned the mask of disinterest.

Neither realized that their thoughts had led them to the exact same conclusion.

“Mr. Malfoy, I could argue with you all day on a variety of subjects and little progress would be made. Let me, if I may, get to the point.”

Lucius restrained the urge to roll his eyes at her unnecessary build up. It would appear juvenile, but her introduction was thoroughly inane, as he doubted whatever ‘point’ she had to make would be of any concern to him. What could possibly matter to a man who had nothing?

“Your wife is filing for divorce.”

Ah… leave it to the mudblood to diligently answer every question.

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Initially it was going to be Narcissa who came to make the announcement, and I started writing it that way… but LaBib’s review made me think and I rather liked the idea of pushing Hermione in early, so I tweaked the beginning and continued on.

Again, corrections are appreciated. (Ironic that I wrote “typo” wrong.) Thanks for reading.