The Radiant

---


Ginny sat on the window seat, pressing her face to the glass of the panes, watching as her breath fogged up the clearness, made everything a little hazy, blurring out the whiteness of the outside. As she withdrew, she traced curlicues in the fog of her breath with one fingertip, watching as the slices of snow from behind the glass became visible, carving through the condensation, drawing up and up—

It had been a month, now, since she had begun to move her things into the Manor. There was snow on the ground.

She leaned back, revelling in the nook she had nestled herself into. Ginny made the most of the time when Lucius wasn’t home by exploring, pleased by the fact that he hadn’t marked any rooms or wings as off-limits, pleased by his trust in her. She did like to poke around, her eyes so pleased by the resplendence of the place, by the old and lovely and antiquated richness of the décor, but she felt no need to pry, to nose around in areas she knew she shouldn’t. Desk drawers were mainly left unopened, cabinets still latched, pictures still on the walls, carpets unmoved. Ginny wasn’t searching for anything. She just wanted to become aware of the territory.

It seemed huge that he should have invited her to live in the Manor. Some time ago, during the Voldemort years, it wouldn’t have happened. The laws about Pureblood society were so stringent that she would have had to be married to Lucius in order to establish herself in his house. Regardless, the action still seemed weighty to her. Lucius may have done some changing—she didn’t hear any racial slurs from him anymore and he had stopped most of his sneering—but he was still a product of a different generation, and she had agreed with Draco when he had told her once that “people didn’t change” and that his father was one of them.

She had replied that it was necessary to find the things that were important and likeable within said person.

So she had moved in, and it had been fraught and exciting and frustrating all at the same time. Ginny had refused to use any type of hired help or movers, and Lucius had become tetchy with her because of that decision, but when she had started to pull all of her old belongings—all of her memories, her personal items, the things that she saved over her years—out of her trunks and fling them at him, he had relented.

“But why do you save these things?” He had been so confused about the value of her seemingly worthless keepsakes—a snip of fabric from a Yule Ball dress, a yarn from a sweater her mother had knitted her, her first tube of lipstick, a note from Harry, clippings from the tail of her first broom. Lucius had been holding her old Valentine’s Day cards and notes in his hands, frowning at them, and she had laughed at him, and then kissed him because his hands were full, and when she explained that most women did things like this and that it was her and the memorabilia or nothing at all, he had scowled, and then tied his hair back, and then held out the packing box for her as she had sorted, replacing the records on the player in the corner when each vinyl disc of classical music ran out.

They had sorted to the music of Rachmaninoff and Holst, and then she had packed to the music of Mahler while he had sat in her dining room and written some correspondence for his work, and then she had sealed and stacked to the music of Tchaikovsky and he had transported them for her, letting her stand in the empty place for the last time, absorbing the weight of her decision to move out. Granted, she was illegally subletting the place to a work friend of hers, but she had a feeling that she was never going to again live in her old flat. That night, they had made love to Schubert.

She sighed and smiled, adjusting the cushion behind her back. During one of her exploring jags, trips layered in between her five-day work week—mainly spent in the office but still partly spent at home researching—Ginny had found an East Wing hallway that had a row of concealed window seats, each one hidden by a different-coloured arras. She spent most of her free hours of reading behind the purple one, second from the last, drawing the curtains behind her and settling into the alcove, pilfering books from the biggest library.

She could think, here.

It had been an interesting month. Ginny realized that it was going to take a whole lot of work on her part in order to be able to cohabit with anyone, most of all Lucius Malfoy. While there was an amazing amount of affection between the two of them, sprung from their white-hot similarities and their frenzy for each other’s bodies, there was also an incredible potential for fighting, and in the first two weeks of moving in, they had done just that, many times over. It became apparent that a type of hot, sexual, fantastical attraction wouldn’t just suffice anymore. Things had to be worked on. Sharing the bed was fine because Lucius had a mattress so large it didn’t matter if one grabbed most of the blankets or the other had the tendency to talk in their sleep. Ginny just ended up piling on more of the linens from the guest room for Lucius to use, and he didn’t mind when she woke him up by murmuring. They shared a washroom, too, which had been odd at first, but Ginny figured out that Lucius preferred baths—which had surprised her—while she preferred showers, and so they rarely had to share those spaces with each other when they were in a hurry. There were two sinks—and that helped, too. The water closet was a separate room, which helped with the moderate flashes of modesty and embarrassment she had felt for the first few weeks, until she realized that the man she was living with had seen every inch of her and probably didn’t care.

It was, however, the smaller things that set the two of them off. Ginny was irritated by the fact that she had to nearly beg in order to be able to cook in the massive kitchen, while Lucius became irritated by the fact that she would even want to. She grew frustrated with his reticence to update particular sections of the main library, while he called her ungrateful and bossy.

But in all—

Ginny smiled as she heard footsteps down the hallway. The strong, heavy balance of the tread meant that it was really only one person. She could picture him even though she couldn’t see him, hidden as she was behind the purple tapestry—the even, unhurried gait of his walk, the narrow roll of his hips, the slight sway of the broad arms, the deliciously large shoulders. He had been so busy lately with the merging of one of the companies he had invested in that Ginny had hardly seen him for the past week—which was just as well, because she had been finishing up an opinion piece for the paper.

“It took me a decent while to find this new hiding place of yours, actually.” He was speaking from somewhere outside of the curtain, and Ginny was sure that he didn’t know exactly which arras she was behind, so she remained still and quiet, smiling to herself as she waited.

The halves of the fabric parted and Lucius stood between them, hands fisted in the purple brocade. He looked down the sharp slant of his nose at her, through the reading glasses perched on the end of it, his mouth relaxed.

“Hello,” she said and tilted her face up.

“Hello,” he replied, and he bent down to kiss her.

“I like you in your reading glasses. You look lovely.”

“Thank you.” He bent down to kiss her again, and this time Ginny parted her lips, allowing him to bring a large hand up to cup the back of her head and hold her firmly in place.

When he pulled away his bottom lip was flushed and swollen.

“Is this where you hide most of your time?”

“I’ll have to find a new place now that you know it.”

“Look at the snow.” Lucius leaned forward and peered out of the window, taking his glasses off in order to see through Ginny’s curlicues. She looked up at him, admiring the fact that he was straining to see through her childish designs instead of taking a sleeve and wiping them off.

“I know.” Ginny’s voice was soft, and she got up onto her knees, leaning forward beside him, both of their faces at the panes of glass as they looked outside. She turned sideways to face him. “Can you believe it’s been a month?”

“No, actually.” He traced a finger down her spine, smiling smugly as her back muscles rippled and contracted involuntarily. “Oh, that reminds me. This came. From the outside world.” Lucius sat down across from her on the cushioned seat, holding out a letter. When Ginny raised her eyebrows at him, he shrugged elegantly and raised his eyebrows back, and so she took it.

She recognized the strong, feminine handwriting immediately, and a hot, sick feeling flushed over her. Her face turned feverish and a blush broke out alone the top edge of her cheekbones. She was petrified.

“It’s from Hermione,” she whispered, and because she couldn’t bring herself to look at him again she kept them tracked to the paper.

Ginny—

I’ve been doing quite a bit of thinking, and I wanted to let you know that my actions at the Ministry ball last month were highly inappropriate. I acted in haste and anger and while I will not apologize for them because I was acting on how I felt, I want you to know that I have been giving a lot of thought to you and Lucius.

I’d like to meet you for lunch someday soon.

In fact, I’d like to meet both of you for a meal at some point in the future, but I think I have to take small steps considering I was tortured in the man’s drawing room, for heaven’s sake. I know you’re back at work. Is there a day in the coming week that would be good for you?

I’ve told Ron about this. He’s certainly not happy but I’ve forbidden him to talk about it at home so at least I don’t have to listen to his ranting.

I hope your new home is treating you well—

Hermione.


Ginny looked up.

Lucius was looking at her with an interesting expression—if she didn’t know better, she would have said that it was almost nervous.

“Hermione wants to meet me for lunch. Well, actually, she is aiming to meet the both of us for lunch at some point—” Lucius stiffened almost imperceptibly, and Ginny shot him a scowl “—but for now, just me.” She folded the letter up. “I think this is a good thing. She’s a damn good advocate to have on our side, you know.” She smiled absentmindedly. “And I miss her.”

“I’m glad.” And he did sound glad. Ginny turned her smile onto him. “Miss Granger is eloquent. She, of all people, might be able to convince your oaf of a brother—sorry—” Ginny dug her elbow into Lucius’ side and he corrected himself “sorry—your brother Ronald—that he needn’t be so rash when it comes to our relationship. Yes?”

“Yes.”

“And I’ll gladly meet her. With you. For a meal.”

Ginny looked at Lucius and rolled her eyes. He looked almost like he had something ill tasting in his mouth—face held rigid and tense, lips drawn.

“I know that a Muggleborn would hardly be your first choice to have lunch with, but she’s scarily similar to you. You’ve both got minds like steel traps. Both slightly haughty. Both frighteningly intelligent. She may even be smarter than you, actually.”

“Charming.” Lucius brushed off her attempt to needle him and reached for her. “I would like you to have parts of your family back, as long as they are reasonable and respectful, and the Granger girl can probably help with that.” Ginny allowed herself to be pulled onto his lap, settling her thighs on either side of his, her arms looped around his neck. “Have you heard from any of them lately?”

Ginny inhaled shakily and unknowingly brought a hand up to rub at her face, reminding Lucius of the night she had came home with that awful handprint blossomed across her face.

“No. I sent letters to all of them to let them know about my new living arrangements. No responses. But at least there weren’t any Howlers.” Ginny exhaled slowly and looked up.

“I’m sorry.”

“Well, let’s not talk of them today.”

Lucius kissed her, and then shifted. He tilted his hips up and pressed into her, and Ginny raised her eyebrows. He raised his own back at her, mimicking her facial expression. “Why so surprised? I haven’t had sex with you in almost a week.” He forwent her lips and instead began to kiss her neck, scraping her with his teeth and sucking large, hot circles onto her skin.

Ginny closed her eyes and tried not to moan. “I know. It’s been driving me crazy. It’s your useless schedule!” She hissed when he bit her. “All right, it’s my schedule too.” She shuddered as he used the hot flat of his tongue to lick from her shoulder to her ear, leaning back to allow him to unbutton her trousers and shove them off of her, climbing back into his lap wearing just her underpants. He was hard, the length of him settling between her thighs and rubbing against her. Ginny pressed her forehead to his as she moved slightly, feeling the friction.

Impatient, she reached down and unbuttoned him, freeing his length, shoving her underpants to one side and lowering herself onto him, actually crying out as he disappeared inch by inch into her. It had been too long—it literally burned, hurt as he stretched her open, cleaved her apart. And it was still going—he was still pushing into her, so large, so long, unending, and Ginny fell forward onto his shoulder, hissing harsh words into his ear until she could feel the warm soft of his scrotum against her buttocks and she knew that he was completely inside of her. She felt full and quivering, her skin alight.

A quick look at his face told her that he was feeling it, too. Lucius had his eyes closed and was breathing harshly through his nose.

They stayed still for a few minutes, Ginny clinging to his shoulders and nipping at his earlobe, Lucius tracing his hands over her buttocks, playing with the waistband of her underwear. It was nice—for the two of them—just to sit and feel each other, just to savour the sensation of being enveloped and connected again. He sighed into her ear and she sighed back, laughing toward the end of it, her breath turning ruffled and frothy, and he palmed her backside with a rougher grip, feeling the pliable flesh between his fingers and relishing in it.

“Seven days is too long,” Ginny hummed.

“Christ,” Lucius replied. His word was low against her ear, and Ginny smiled.

He was the first to move, rolling his hips upward and pushing his way deeper into her, and Ginny could feel the movements all the way through her body, reverberating up around her neck and through her mouth. She retaliated, meeting his movement on a downward stroke and connecting the soft flesh of her buttocks with the hard muscles of his thighs. She hadn’t even bothered to remove his pants, so she could feel the rasp of the material against her bare skin, and it aroused her to know that she was the vulnerable and naked one and he was the one still dressed.

When his hands came up to grab at her breasts, plucking at her nipples, she tightened around him and he swore. When she did it again, on purpose, he turned pale and grabbed at her hips instead, trying to slow her down. Ignited, Ginny clenched and released around him relentlessly, bring a hand back behind her to cup his testicles, eventually tugging on them as they tightened unbelievably, and then Lucius went rigid, crushing her in his arms and thrusting up inside of her as hard as he could—nearly uncomfortably, hitting against her cervix on a violent jag—as he came, thrashing.

Ginny tugged his hair away from his forehead, cooling him down.

“Sorry,” he gasped as she kissed his neck lazily. “I’m sorry. You didn’t come.”

“I know,” she laughed, and kissed his mouth again and again. “I meant it that way.”

“Wicked, wicked, wicked,” Lucius murmured against her lips, and as Ginny shifted to get off of him, he shook his head. “Wait, please. I like this.”

They sat quietly, and Ginny enjoyed the feeling of his chest rising and falling, moving her body in the same rhythmic pattern.

“Do you think this will ever get boring?”

His words surprised her, and Ginny leaned back to get a look at his face. “I—you’re still inside of me!”

Lucius moved the corner of his mouth in a wry gesture, and then shook his head. “Never mind—”

“No, wait. I’m not discounting your question, it just startled me. It’s true, we do always have better discussions when we’re physically touching. This is just a new version.” She smiled and bit at his lower lip before pulling back again. “Our sex has been fairly vanilla so far, I suppose. Will it ever get boring? I don’t know, Lucius. Neither of us can answer that question. But I do know that we can try as best as we can to make sure that it is constantly interesting.”

“You sound like you know your way around the alternative side of sex.”

“Well, I never said I didn’t.” Ginny kissed him again and bounced back, laughing, sliding off him and pulling her clothes back on. “We can try whatever you like. Something new every night? I’d like that. Anal sex, maybe. Or some bondage.”

Lucius sat and stared at her.

“I’m being serious!” Ginny carded her fingers through her hair, untangling it.

“I’m sure you are. You’re just being so frank about it.” Lucius stood up, arching his back and stretching, letting her re-tie his hair and arrange his shirt. “We can do whatever you want. I’d like it, too. I don’t think we could get boring, but sometimes I just—I think. I think about the two of us and how different we are, and if you were to ever want someone more virile, or younger—someone who could rear your children at a lush, young age instead of an old one.”

Ginny gazed at Lucius for a minute, a calculating and extremely discerning look in her eyes.

“What?” He felt slightly uncomfortable under her stare.

“Well, that’s why we work together—why we won’t get bored. You said the reason yourself. We are so different!” Her face went from shrewd to gleeful in a minute.

“You keep me on my feet. Sometimes you bounce around from subject to subject and I just don’t know how to keep up.”

“I know that.” Ginny tugged lightly on his hair and slid an arm around his waist. “Will you let me cook dinner tonight?”

“No.”

Ginny slid her hand down and pinched his bottom, and Lucius jerked to one side, trying to get out of her grasp, and she lunged at him, feinting, and then—

“What was that sound?” Ginny stood upright, untangling her hands from his shirt and tilting her head to one side. When she looked back at Lucius, he was pale and serious. “Oh god, it’s not Aurors again, is it?” When he didn’t answer, she grabbed his wrist. “Is it?”

“No.” He shook his head slightly, straightening his clothing and checking his hair. “It is not the Aurors. That was one of the wards signalling the arrival of a guest.” He moved his neck from side to side, and Ginny narrowed her eyes.

“Who?” The question was strong and assertive, and she already had a suspicion that she knew who was at the door—

Lucius offered her the crook of his arm.

“We’d best go down quickly.”

“Who is it, Lucius?”

Ginny stood in front of him, her palms solidly on her hips, a worried and yet persistent expression on her face. Lucius once again offered her the crook of his arm, and met her eyes evenly.

“Narcissa.”


---