The Radiant

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“I have to go back to work. For the paper.”

Lucius looked over at her, still holding his cup of tea.

“Just for a short while. They want me to actually be in the office. And they want me to teach some bloody seminar on flying.” She dragged her toast through her eggs.

“Why won’t you move in here?”

The question startled her and she looked up at him. He was holding his newspaper, nonchalantly scanning the business section.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Ginny shook her head. “I told you that I still wanted to keep my own flat.”

“You can still keep it. I can make the monthly payments on it if you would like.”

“Not appropriate, Lucius. I’m not a mistress.” She set her teacup down on her saucer with an audible click, staring at him from across the table. Lucius sighed and set his paper down as well, meeting her glare.

“I never said you were a mistress.”

“Kept woman.”

“Nor that. You are being childish.”

Ginny ground her teeth and closed her eyes. “This is a stupid argument.”

“You are being the immature one.”

“Just because you are so much older than me doesn’t mean –”

Lucius glared at her. “Thank you for reminding me of your age. I’m old enough –”

“– To be my father. I know. Twenty-seven whole years older than me.” She smiled a vitriolic smile at him. Lucius nearly snarled at her but instead kept his hands evenly spaced, flat on the table, and compressed his mouth into a thin line. He had forgotten about her temper and her stubborn streak. Ginny looked at him for a moment more and then shook her head, sighing.

“We shouldn’t be fighting. At the moment, it’s us against the world, as trite as that sounds. We should be allies.” She stared at the tabletop as she spoke.

“Then why won’t you move in to the Manor?” That would be the last time he spoke – he assured himself of that. It was enough to have to ask the question twice. He was sick of feeling needy for her.

“I can’t.” She whispered the response, still looking down at the table, tracing her fingers along the placemat.

“Go to work.” He had resumed looking at his paper, his eyes down. Ginny’s mouth fell open at the dismissal.

“Fine.” She walked quickly out of the room, ripping her coat off of the coat hook in the hallway, and Apparated away. Lucius stayed still, staring at his newspaper, tea getting cold.


---


Ginny worked a wooden day, numbly filing and typing and exchanging the stale office pleasantries with her work colleagues, fielding awkwardly asked questions about her break up with Draco, deflecting any prodding questions about her personal or romantic life.

When she had a break after lunch, she sat at her desk and stared blankly out the window. She was desperately attracted to Lucius, and liked his voracious nature, his keen mind, the all-consuming way he looked at her, the all-consuming way he touched her, fucked her, wanted her.

Could it be enough? There were twenty-seven years between them. He certainly could be her father. And if she ever wanted a family – if she ever did want children, would he be prepared to have children with her? At fifty-two, he was not so old. He still looked younger than his age but he had already had that life – he had had the picture-book wedding, the one pure scion, the parties, the birthdays, the nappies, the nights up with the colicky baby, everything.

And the Manor – it was all too much all of a sudden. Being in that place, all of the time – calling Malfoy Manor home – it would break her family’s heart if they were to ever find out. It would make everything very, very real and scary and immediate. She would be living in one of the places that had fostered such hatred against the Muggles and the Muggleborns and everyone of mixed blood. Could she do it? Could she live under that roof?

She sighed and sipped at her tea, drumming her fingernails on her desk.


---


Lucius was in his study, looking over the paperwork for his newest donation to the hospital.

She had turned everything in his life upside-down, and he wasn’t sure if he was liking or hating it.

He hated being alone in the Manor. It was dusty and anechoic and too silent for his tastes. It had been so long since he had had a proper interest in a woman since Narcissa left, and now that he had Ginevra he wanted to keep her, to never let her go, to have her for himself for always.

But if she wanted children – if she wanted that gauzy, white wedding with all the trimmings – if she wanted the wedding portraits and the four children – or seven children, or more – he wasn’t sure if he could do that again. He felt old and decrepit. She was so young and so virile and lithe and lovely, all pale, taut flesh and thick hair. And when she had mentioned the age difference over breakfast that morning, he had felt sick to his stomach. What if she wanted someone younger – someone more like –

His son.

Lucius pressed a hand to his forehead, trying to ease his throbbing headache.


---


When Ginny ended her workday, she headed for her own flat instead of the Manor. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to see Lucius, and she also wasn’t sure if he wanted to see her after what she had said that morning.

She had been half-expecting a note when she got home, but there was nothing. No flowers, no letters, no apology, nothing. Ginny sat down on her couch and pillowed her eyes with her palms, tears pricking at her eyelids.

She made dinner spiritlessly, drinking from a bottle of red wine, staring out her murky kitchen window at the purple-storm skies. Lightning sliced across the thunderheads, across the horizon, and Ginny smiled for a moment, appreciating the showmanship of nature’s power. It was good to be reminded of true power every now and then.

She sighed and put her dishes in the sink, resolving to wash them the next morning, and dragged herself to her bedroom, shedding her clothes like an old skin, trying to rub the smell of the workplace off of herself. Her bed seemed chilly without the broad body of Lucius behind her, but she wrapped her nightgown around herself resolutely and fell asleep.

When Ginny awoke next, it was not morning. The room was still deeply dark, and she had gasped awake, unsure of what she had been dreaming about and unsure of what had roused her.

When the corner of her room moved, she stifled her scream and reached for her wand, holding it out in front of her with one swift movement.

“Don’t you fucking move.” The light from the end of the wand illuminated the figure, and from beneath the hood of the robe she saw snarls of long blond hair. Lucius looked back at her steadily. “Lucius? What the hell are you doing here? You just scared the shit out of me.” She dropped her wand to the bedspread and her face fell into her hands. She began to cry.

The bed beside her sank.

“I couldn’t sleep without you.” His words were as close to a whisper as they could get.

Ginny lifted her tear-tracked face and looked at him. “What?”

“It’s three in the morning, and I’ve been awake all night because I can’t sleep without you.”

“My wards – how did you…”

“Your Floo is still open to me.” She stared at him for a watery minute, and then moved into his arms. “I’m sorry, Ginevra. I’m very sorry. I told you I was a stubborn old man and that I was set in my ways.”

“You’re not old.” Her voice was soft and garbled. He began to lean them back, lying on her pillows. She slung a leg over his two, tucking her pelvis into him, one arm flung across his chest, fingers toying with the ends of his tangled hair. “I’m so sorry, too. You’re not old. You’re magnificent. I walk by younger men and I think of you because I have never met a person who can hold a candle to you – your voice, your shoulders, your mouth” and here she brushed a palm over his lips “your legs, your prowess in bed, your smarts.” Ginny sighed against his neck. “I don’t want to be typical. I don’t want to be trite. You shake me to the core.”

Lucius ran his hand soothingly up and down her back, hearing her sobs quiet. “You aren’t typical.” When she moved her face up to look at him he kissed her lightly. “We won’t be typical. That is, I suppose, what scares me so much. I can’t predict the future about us – a family? A wedding? I don’t know.”

“It’s alright, Lucius. I’m sorry about the Manor. The place still scares me somewhat, and if I move in there, things become very real very quickly.”

“I understand.”

“Lucius?”

“Hm?”

“Let’s not fight. Let’s try not to fight.”

“We are both very stubborn, Ginevra.”

“I know.” She pressed her mouth to his neck. “I like that about you, though. You don’t back down from challenging me.”

“Never.”

She smiled against his skin, her eyes closed. “Look at us. We look like some colourful form of marital bliss.” Her voice was soft.

“We aren’t married.” His voice was soft, too, and low, rumbled against her.

“That’s fine. I just mean that if someone were to see us right now – right now – we would look so contented.” He laughed slightly, and Ginny felt it through the arm she had across his chest.

“Considering we just had a very stupid argument, I find that amusing.”

“Shut it.”

They lay quietly for a few more minutes.

“Can you sleep now?” She was whispering, gently kneading the muscles of his chest with the flat of her hand, and she could feel the deep, rhythmic beat of his heart beneath it.

“Yes. Thank you. I am contented.”

Ginny kept her body pressed against Lucius until she felt him slide completely into sleep, and only then did she allow herself, too, to slip from consciousness.

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