The Radiant
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Lucius/Ginny
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
42
Views:
13,938
Reviews:
30
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Lucius/Ginny
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
42
Views:
13,938
Reviews:
30
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I do not make any money from these writings.
Chapter 3
-
She ran her hands across the spines.
“I had hoped to see this room before I left.”
Lucius looked up from where he was reading over a few papers, standing behind his desk as he waited for his son to return from the floo in the next room. Ginny had to bite her lip to prevent herself from laughing – he looked almost innocent when he looked up through his eyebrows distractedly like that.
“Hm? Oh. Well, I suppose I am glad to have someone to show it to. My son –” Here Lucius thought for a moment. “My son doesn’t read as much as I would desire. Truly, I am surprised that you are such a reader, Miss Weasley.”
So there it was – perhaps. A subtle jab at her upbringing. She straightened her spine, arms akimbo, hands planted only lightly on her hips.
“Was that a slight on my family, Mr. Malfoy?” Her voice was measured but – oh – she had to marvel at the pure flint that was present in it. She was surprised even at herself - how her hands didn’t shake, how her tone stayed even.
He looked at her, a smile bucking around his mouth.
“Yes.”
Ginny’s eyebrows raised and then lowered into a scowl. How blatant of him.
“How rude. I would have expected someone of your upbringing to be more… polished Mr. Malfoy.” She turned back to the books, her back squarely to him. She could hear a small intake of breath behind her.
Ginny knew precisely what she was doing – by turning her attention back to the books, she was letting Lucius know in no uncertain terms that he did not rank particularly high in her attentions. Rather, she was more enamoured of the literature that spanned in front of her for miles of spines… miles…
She hadn’t heard him move. His hand came down on the spines of the books on the left side of her head, his left forearm beside her cheekbone.
“Cliché!” The words came out of Ginny’s mouth before she could stop them. Mildly horrified, she thanked Poseidon she couldn’t see Lucius’ face. But it was terribly clichéd – to trap a young woman alone in a library by caging her in with arms against a bloody bookshelf.
“Hardly. I simply wanted to get a better look at the Weasley who just impugned my pedigree, my upbringing, and my conversation skills.”
Ginny turned around, irked enough to be unfazed by the arm that was still running alongside her head.
“Oh, really? I thought, perhaps, that you got a good enough glance at me when you slipped me that diary. Back when I was eleven. You remember that, don’t you?” Ginny ground her teeth, feeling molars spark against each other as she fought not to hit him, not to shove his arm out of the way, not to scream in his face.
Lucius made a bit of a humming sound and continued to look at her, and with his eyes darting around her face, Ginny felt less abashed and so also began a blatant perusal of him.
She noted now that he seemed to be fonder of tying his hair back with that severe black ribbon, and while perhaps this might have made lesser men appear older, Ginny appreciated the way it moved his skin taut over the blades of his cheekbones, the honed angles of his face catching the shadows, casting hollows into his cheeks. He exhaled softly through his nose and his nostrils flared, and she followed the bridleway of the bridge of his nose – the bird-like lines of his face – up to where his eyebrows were only slightly raised, raised as if he were not expecting the youngest Weasley to be still so close to him, appraising him so boldly.
“I’m simply not scared of you anymore, Mr. Malfoy.” Ginny spoke the words evenly, her eyes clicking down – clicking like marbles, beads, brown beads – to his Apollonian mouth when he answered:
“You should be.”
---
By the time Draco had come back into the room, cursing about step-cousins and family businesses, Ginny was sitting languidly in the wingback chair by the fire, reading one of the Malfoy family histories.
Lucius was not in the room.
“Where’s my father?”
“I’m not sure – he excused himself a few minutes ago.”
Fuck, he was so hard. He hadn’t been like this in weeks – months. Or maybe even years. He had lost track of time since
“Great. He’s prowling the manor somewhere.”
since the separation or maybe before and he reached down to wrap his hand around himself, feeling the skin that scorched like fucking fire, so cliché, it was all so cliché
“Be nice, Draco.”
“You’re a better man than me if you are so quick to coddle him.”
“I’m not a man, you silly fool.”
Soft laughter.
but the tight grip of his hand felt alien and phenomenal and he braced himself with the other hand on the wall, the left hand on the wall, forearm straight and locked
“He did terrible things.”
“I know that. People don’t change, I guess. You just have to … find the parts that you want to focus on. Within them. If they exist.”
and he could feel his entire body tensing, arcing, his neck arched back so far his adam’s apple protruded sharply, could cut glass
“Maybe my father still has redeemable parts.”
“Well, he is most certainly still a twisted supremacist, but I’m not so scared of him anymore.”
“You’re not a scrawny little eleven-year-old in used robes anymore, that’s why.”
and he was coming
---
“Thank you for the lovely evening, Mr. Malfoy.”
Ginny met his eyes placidly.
He held out his right hand.
“Charmed, I’m sure. Please feel free to return any time you might want to explore the library further.”
“She’ll probably take you up on that.”
Lucius turned to his son.
“Manners, Draco.” Gently chiding, not quite harsh.
Draco smiled crookedly.
“Goodnight father. Since you’ve behaved yourself –” Ginny continued to gaze at Lucius and noticed that the right hand corner of his mouth curled at Draco’s words – “we will probably visit more often than not. Unless you relapse.”
Lucius placed a hand on Draco’s shoulder.
“I will always behave myself.”
Ginny shuddered imperceptibly.
beware
She had never heard a bigger lie.
---
Lucius wrote irritably, his quill carving into the paper as he finished his business for the night. The dinner had put him off of his schedule and because of that, he was cross.
And that bloody fucking ball was coming up, too.
He was expected to go – it would be a major snub to the Ministry if he didn’t show up. Maybe he could convince his son to join him.
And his son’s date.
Lucius laid down his quill and steepled his fingers beneath his chin. What a brassy little bitch she had been.
At least she was a pureblood
Blood traitor, but still blood pure.
He had wanted to see if she would challenge him. He had wanted to see if she would bring up Riddle’s diary. She had done both.
And his yob of a son – not knowing who Coleridge was.
Lucius sighed.
He hadn’t expected her to be so damn smart. She had a whiplash tongue. And good god, she was no longer a little eleven-year-old girl anymore, was she? Those lush, tight curves.
Lucius closed his eyes. Ginevra Weasley was off-limits.
She was his son’s, after all. And he did love his son – love him, fiercely, massively protective and feral about him.
But she – Ginevra – she had snapped at him in ways that no woman had – not since Narcissa, not since before everything – and he had liked it. Loved it.
Strange little thing.
Lucius cocked his head to the side and finished his letter.
---
“Oh, please Draco.”
The writing desk rocked a little as he rolled his hips and Ginny felt him slide deeper inside of her. She felt like the breath had been knocked out of her.
He bent over her back and pressed her body down onto the surface of the desk, hands planted in front of her, beside her own. She stared into the crooks of where his forearms met his upper arms.
Draco gave a sharp jab with his hips and Ginny yelped.
“Please what, Gin?”
“Please – please –”
He smacked her lower back lightly.
“Please?”
“Please – fuck me.”
Draco’s hips started a wonderful cadence, then. Ginny felt her breasts slide across the naked wood of the desk surface as Draco stopped talking and tightened his grip on her hips, fucking her with a determined purpose.
Ginny closed her eyes and sighed happily.
flashing eyes
Grey eyes, sharp
floating hair
sharp angles, sharp skin, sharp eyes, all angles –
Draco thrust particularly deep and she grunted, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the desk harder.
eyes
Someone Apollonian – someone –
Draco grabbed at her hair and she closed her eyes again, and this time –
beware
God, this time it was not Draco who was grinding her chest down into the desk, not Draco whose long-fingered hands were branding her hips, whose breath was hot on the back of her neck, but a broader chest, bigger hands, wider mouth, long hair that brushed into the periphery of her vision – fuck – fuck – fuck –
floating
hair
With a strangled, gasping cry, Ginny Weasley came, fingers twisting and clawing at the desk, nipples hardened nearly painfully, her inner muscles clenching again and again and again, her thighs going into spasm, and she laid her forehead, pale and sticky, against the wood and exhaled.
Fuck.
Fuck.
-
She ran her hands across the spines.
“I had hoped to see this room before I left.”
Lucius looked up from where he was reading over a few papers, standing behind his desk as he waited for his son to return from the floo in the next room. Ginny had to bite her lip to prevent herself from laughing – he looked almost innocent when he looked up through his eyebrows distractedly like that.
“Hm? Oh. Well, I suppose I am glad to have someone to show it to. My son –” Here Lucius thought for a moment. “My son doesn’t read as much as I would desire. Truly, I am surprised that you are such a reader, Miss Weasley.”
So there it was – perhaps. A subtle jab at her upbringing. She straightened her spine, arms akimbo, hands planted only lightly on her hips.
“Was that a slight on my family, Mr. Malfoy?” Her voice was measured but – oh – she had to marvel at the pure flint that was present in it. She was surprised even at herself - how her hands didn’t shake, how her tone stayed even.
He looked at her, a smile bucking around his mouth.
“Yes.”
Ginny’s eyebrows raised and then lowered into a scowl. How blatant of him.
“How rude. I would have expected someone of your upbringing to be more… polished Mr. Malfoy.” She turned back to the books, her back squarely to him. She could hear a small intake of breath behind her.
Ginny knew precisely what she was doing – by turning her attention back to the books, she was letting Lucius know in no uncertain terms that he did not rank particularly high in her attentions. Rather, she was more enamoured of the literature that spanned in front of her for miles of spines… miles…
She hadn’t heard him move. His hand came down on the spines of the books on the left side of her head, his left forearm beside her cheekbone.
“Cliché!” The words came out of Ginny’s mouth before she could stop them. Mildly horrified, she thanked Poseidon she couldn’t see Lucius’ face. But it was terribly clichéd – to trap a young woman alone in a library by caging her in with arms against a bloody bookshelf.
“Hardly. I simply wanted to get a better look at the Weasley who just impugned my pedigree, my upbringing, and my conversation skills.”
Ginny turned around, irked enough to be unfazed by the arm that was still running alongside her head.
“Oh, really? I thought, perhaps, that you got a good enough glance at me when you slipped me that diary. Back when I was eleven. You remember that, don’t you?” Ginny ground her teeth, feeling molars spark against each other as she fought not to hit him, not to shove his arm out of the way, not to scream in his face.
Lucius made a bit of a humming sound and continued to look at her, and with his eyes darting around her face, Ginny felt less abashed and so also began a blatant perusal of him.
She noted now that he seemed to be fonder of tying his hair back with that severe black ribbon, and while perhaps this might have made lesser men appear older, Ginny appreciated the way it moved his skin taut over the blades of his cheekbones, the honed angles of his face catching the shadows, casting hollows into his cheeks. He exhaled softly through his nose and his nostrils flared, and she followed the bridleway of the bridge of his nose – the bird-like lines of his face – up to where his eyebrows were only slightly raised, raised as if he were not expecting the youngest Weasley to be still so close to him, appraising him so boldly.
“I’m simply not scared of you anymore, Mr. Malfoy.” Ginny spoke the words evenly, her eyes clicking down – clicking like marbles, beads, brown beads – to his Apollonian mouth when he answered:
“You should be.”
---
By the time Draco had come back into the room, cursing about step-cousins and family businesses, Ginny was sitting languidly in the wingback chair by the fire, reading one of the Malfoy family histories.
Lucius was not in the room.
“Where’s my father?”
“I’m not sure – he excused himself a few minutes ago.”
Fuck, he was so hard. He hadn’t been like this in weeks – months. Or maybe even years. He had lost track of time since
“Great. He’s prowling the manor somewhere.”
since the separation or maybe before and he reached down to wrap his hand around himself, feeling the skin that scorched like fucking fire, so cliché, it was all so cliché
“Be nice, Draco.”
“You’re a better man than me if you are so quick to coddle him.”
“I’m not a man, you silly fool.”
Soft laughter.
but the tight grip of his hand felt alien and phenomenal and he braced himself with the other hand on the wall, the left hand on the wall, forearm straight and locked
“He did terrible things.”
“I know that. People don’t change, I guess. You just have to … find the parts that you want to focus on. Within them. If they exist.”
and he could feel his entire body tensing, arcing, his neck arched back so far his adam’s apple protruded sharply, could cut glass
“Maybe my father still has redeemable parts.”
“Well, he is most certainly still a twisted supremacist, but I’m not so scared of him anymore.”
“You’re not a scrawny little eleven-year-old in used robes anymore, that’s why.”
and he was coming
---
“Thank you for the lovely evening, Mr. Malfoy.”
Ginny met his eyes placidly.
He held out his right hand.
“Charmed, I’m sure. Please feel free to return any time you might want to explore the library further.”
“She’ll probably take you up on that.”
Lucius turned to his son.
“Manners, Draco.” Gently chiding, not quite harsh.
Draco smiled crookedly.
“Goodnight father. Since you’ve behaved yourself –” Ginny continued to gaze at Lucius and noticed that the right hand corner of his mouth curled at Draco’s words – “we will probably visit more often than not. Unless you relapse.”
Lucius placed a hand on Draco’s shoulder.
“I will always behave myself.”
Ginny shuddered imperceptibly.
beware
She had never heard a bigger lie.
---
Lucius wrote irritably, his quill carving into the paper as he finished his business for the night. The dinner had put him off of his schedule and because of that, he was cross.
And that bloody fucking ball was coming up, too.
He was expected to go – it would be a major snub to the Ministry if he didn’t show up. Maybe he could convince his son to join him.
And his son’s date.
Lucius laid down his quill and steepled his fingers beneath his chin. What a brassy little bitch she had been.
At least she was a pureblood
Blood traitor, but still blood pure.
He had wanted to see if she would challenge him. He had wanted to see if she would bring up Riddle’s diary. She had done both.
And his yob of a son – not knowing who Coleridge was.
Lucius sighed.
He hadn’t expected her to be so damn smart. She had a whiplash tongue. And good god, she was no longer a little eleven-year-old girl anymore, was she? Those lush, tight curves.
Lucius closed his eyes. Ginevra Weasley was off-limits.
She was his son’s, after all. And he did love his son – love him, fiercely, massively protective and feral about him.
But she – Ginevra – she had snapped at him in ways that no woman had – not since Narcissa, not since before everything – and he had liked it. Loved it.
Strange little thing.
Lucius cocked his head to the side and finished his letter.
---
“Oh, please Draco.”
The writing desk rocked a little as he rolled his hips and Ginny felt him slide deeper inside of her. She felt like the breath had been knocked out of her.
He bent over her back and pressed her body down onto the surface of the desk, hands planted in front of her, beside her own. She stared into the crooks of where his forearms met his upper arms.
Draco gave a sharp jab with his hips and Ginny yelped.
“Please what, Gin?”
“Please – please –”
He smacked her lower back lightly.
“Please?”
“Please – fuck me.”
Draco’s hips started a wonderful cadence, then. Ginny felt her breasts slide across the naked wood of the desk surface as Draco stopped talking and tightened his grip on her hips, fucking her with a determined purpose.
Ginny closed her eyes and sighed happily.
flashing eyes
Grey eyes, sharp
floating hair
sharp angles, sharp skin, sharp eyes, all angles –
Draco thrust particularly deep and she grunted, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the desk harder.
eyes
Someone Apollonian – someone –
Draco grabbed at her hair and she closed her eyes again, and this time –
beware
God, this time it was not Draco who was grinding her chest down into the desk, not Draco whose long-fingered hands were branding her hips, whose breath was hot on the back of her neck, but a broader chest, bigger hands, wider mouth, long hair that brushed into the periphery of her vision – fuck – fuck – fuck –
floating
hair
With a strangled, gasping cry, Ginny Weasley came, fingers twisting and clawing at the desk, nipples hardened nearly painfully, her inner muscles clenching again and again and again, her thighs going into spasm, and she laid her forehead, pale and sticky, against the wood and exhaled.
Fuck.
Fuck.
-