The Radiant

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Draco traced his fingers over the study door, his face half-hidden behind the jamb.

Ginny was standing in the middle of the study, a small bundle over her shoulder.

He knew that she could see him, and he felt slightly childish for hiding behind the wood frame—as though he were hiding behind his father’s pant legs, or something similar.

She was standing on the carpet, her arms wrapped around his new partial sister, one palm tracing firmly up and down the baby’s back, her eyes trained on Draco. Lucius was absent—Draco had a feeling that Ginny had made him make himself scarce in order for this meeting to happen.

She looked incandescent, really. She looked tired but her eyes were bright.

He stepped into the study slowly, sliding out from behind the doorframe.

What was this new baby? Not even his stepsister, because his father and Ginny weren’t even married. Maybe a half-sister, but that term sounded so base, so degrading—as if this new addition to the Malfoy family wasn’t worthy.

Ginny was looking at him, her hand still tracing over the child’s back.

Draco made a slight face, and stepped farther toward her, his feet sure but slow.

Before he reached her, he spoke.

“I’m sorry it took so long.”

His voice was rushed and it was so unlike him that he winced, physically reacting to the childish way he sounded. Ginny smiled small, and in that moment Draco understood that she understood, and there was a great wave of relief that start from his thighs and worked its way up to the crown of his head.

He breathed out slowly, and that was when she offered the baby to him.

Ginny watched him as she gave Phaedra to him. Draco flinched for a moment, but Ginny decided that it was not because of his nervousness around her, but more of a rote young-male reaction to being handed a new infant.

“You know what to do,” she said softly, and Draco looked up at her, half-smiling, some of his bravado returned, and he reached out with capable and strong arms, taking her daughter and his half-sister from her. “Meet Phaedra.”

“Good name,” Draco murmured, expertly hefting the infant up to the crook of his arm, moving over to the couch and sitting down seamlessly. Ginny was somewhat agog at his child-handling skills.

“You’re good with her.”

“Yes, well,” Draco said, still looking down at the baby, “many of my Pureblood cohorts are already married with families, you see.” He looked up at Ginny, a bittersweet look in his eyes, and she winced inwardly. “You do good work, Weasley,” he continued, glancing back down. “She looks like a Malfoy.”

“She does not,” Ginny said. “I think her hair might be red. Reddish.”

Draco laughed, startling Phaedra, who started to fuss. “It is not red. It’s blonde, you ninny. Oh, shite.” He spoke directly to the baby. “I’ve scared you, haven’t I?”

Ginny was surprised. He was speaking in that universal baby-language, that oscillating and higher-pitched tone of voice that people reserved for speaking to infants and animals. He was a natural, just like his father was. He was collected, whereas she just felt scattered with her own daughter.

“I meant to come earlier. I just—couldn’t,” Draco said.

“That’s fine.”

“Has your family come yet?” And that was so Draco—the blunt line of questioning, nothing danced around.

Ginny exhaled. “Some of them.”

“Good,” he said firmly, and all of a sudden she felt warm—safe.


---


Lucius watched as Ginny sat on the couch in his study, her legs bent at the knee and the soles of her feet on the cushions below her. She was holding Phaedra in her arms, resting her forearms along the support of her thighs. Ginny’s face was down close to their daughter, and she was smiling, laughing at the grotesque and complicated facial expressions that Phaedra was making.

Ginny looked tired—he could see that. Phaedra was not yet sleeping through the night. But she looked beautiful, too—alive and incandescent with something that he had not seen in anyone in a while, something that he had forgotten that Narcissa had had, that radiance of a new parent.

He wondered if he looked like that as well.

Ginny laughed down at their daughter, who was making fantastical faces up at her, twiddling her little hands around aimlessly. Lucius smiled at the sound, laying the paperwork he had been looking over to one side, watching his new family function.


---


The wail broke the staccato sleep that Ginny had been having.

She was up on her hands and knees in an instant, pushing herself properly upright, her hair tangled around her face. Beside her, Lucius grunted and pulled a pillow over his head.

“Oh, come off it,” she hissed, and yanked the pillow away from him. His eyes remained shut even as he spoke.

“I’m too old for this. I’m far too old for this.”

“Well, I’m not, you old prig, so you’re going to have to help me, considering you went through this already. And I need help.” Ginny threw the pillow back at his head, and he didn’t even bother to move it after it had hit him.

She crossed the room and opened the door to the connecting nursery, leaving it open out of spite for her sleeping partner, and walked to the bassinet, lifting up her crying daughter.

“What’s wrong, little light?” Her hand slid down. “No nappy problems. I think you’re hungry.”

Ginny brought her wailing daughter back through the rooms to the master bed, sitting up against the headboard, and slipped her nightgown down to her waist. The baby latched on to her breast immediately and fed quietly.

She let her head fall back against the wall. Lucius turned over onto his back and watched her.

“Don’t fret, Ginevra. It’s only been a few weeks. She’ll start sleeping through the night soon.”

“How can you know?” Her eyes were still closed. “God, look at us. Lucius, we look a mess.”

It was true. Both of them had been looking less than stellar lately, purple and blue sleep circles underneath their eyes. All of Ginny’s nightgowns and many of her day clothes were covered in spit-up.

Lucius sat up, the sheet falling to his waist. “Don’t worry. It will work out.” He kissed her bare shoulder, touching Phaedra’s downy hair.

“I feel disgusting.”

“You don’t look disgusting.” He was telling the truth. She looked tired, yes, but she was soft and luscious, and there was something so beautiful and wonderful about her with their new child—he liked seeing the two together.

She snorted.

“You don’t. I’m not lying. You look—you look womanly.”

“You mean overweight.”

“No,” he said, smiling. “I mean soft and good and curvy.” He put his nose to her neck and inhaled. “And you smell sweeter now. Than before. It’s nice.”

Ginny winced, and then looked down at him. “You’re hard!” Her voice wasn’t so much scandalised as it was plaintive. They hadn’t been having sex because of the discomfort she had suffered after birth—the doctor hadn’t yet cleared her.

He smiled wryly. “I’m always hard.”

“I can’t stand it either. But I’m going to see the doctor at the six week mark, and if she clears me, we can have sex.”

“And that’s in a week.”

“Yes. God, yes.” Ginny looked down at her breast. “All done, I think.”

“Here, give her to me. I’ll burp her. Grab me a cloth, please.” Lucius rose out of bed, still naked, and took his daughter and one of the burping cloths from Ginny, slinging it over his shoulder. He strolled the room, patting the heel of his hand along his child’s back. Ginny watching him—the indolent roll of his buttocks, the tightness of his calves—and she was overcome.

She had been having dreams about sex lately, about straddling Lucius and riding him until both of them were crying out plaintively, thrashing. She had been waking up wet and aroused, on the tail of an orgasm, her thighs clenching and desperate.

“There.” Lucius walked back through the rooms, and Ginny could see him through the open door, laying the baby back into the bassinet.

When he came back into the bedroom, she had taken her nightgown off completely, sitting up on the bed, naked. His mouth nearly opened, but his protective instinct kicked in before his arousal did.

“Aren’t you cold?” He frowned slightly, bending to pick her clothing up off of the floor.

“No—come here.” She knelt up on the bed, beckoning to him with her open palms. Lucius stopped and tilted his head, taking in her naked breasts, her hardened nipples in the chilly room.

He walked over to the bed.

“Come in,” she murmured, and tugged him over her, settling him up against the headboard, sitting up, his legs outstretched.

“What are you doing?”

Ginny leaned over and kissed him deeply, and he exhaled into her mouth.

“Just shut up before I change my mind.”

He raised his eyebrows at her, but she slid under the sheets, nestling between his legs. He was still painfully hard—she could see that, at least, in the dark—and when she reached out and wrapped a hand around his erection his hips jumped.

“Ginevra—you don’t have to—oh, shite—”

She had sucked the head of him into her mouth, tracing her tongue slowly around the crest. When she pulled him out, she spat on the rest of his length, working her fist up and down and lubricating his entire cock.

Lucius let out a hiss but kept the covers over her head.

She kept up a slow and wet pace, keeping her lips wrapped tightly and hotly around him, using the tip of her tongue to flick at his frenulum. Occasionally, she would slide him out of her mouth and suck wetly down the side, or maybe kiss, or maybe bite lightly, and he would purr encouragements from above her, his thighs tensing underneath her petting hands.

Finally, she licked her way down to his testicles, and when she took one into her mouth, he growled. “Yes—” and then she licked between the two and took the second one in her mouth, bathing them both with her tongue, licking the sensitive seam of skin, and when she came back up to suck on him again, she increased the pace.

“Ah,” he stuttered, his heels digging into the mattress and his hips rising up into the air. “Ah—ah—” He was thrusting mercilessly into her mouth now, almost too far in, and Ginny was making wet sounds as he did so, her small, tight fist moving up and down the rest of him with every hip movement he made. His hands flew down, on top of the sheets, and pushed down on her head. “Fuck me,” he groaned.

Ginny laughed around her mouthful and sucked a finger into her mouth simultaneously, wetting it, and then suddenly inserted that same finger into his anus.

“Holy shite,” he bellowed. She could feel him pulsing in her mouth, and she crooked her finger slightly, and—

Lucius yelled something—and it sounded like he was biting down on a fist—and dug his heels into the mattress as hard as he could, one hand pushing down on her head overtop of the bed sheets and the other tangled in the mattress cover, and he came in her mouth, so many waves of come that Ginny could hardly contain them all, some semen dripping out of her mouth and down his length, onto his skin.

He collapsed, and she tugged the sheet off of her head. When he looked down at her, she opened her mouth, showing him his come, and then swallowed deeply.

“Oh, good lord,” Lucius groaned, twitching as she lightly licked around the tip of his cock, cleaning up all the stray droplets, dabbing her fingers onto his skin, catching the semen she had missed. When she had cleaned him completely, she crawled back up his body, resting her breasts on his chest.

He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her hard, tasting his own salt and bitterness in her mouth.

“As soon as the doctor says it’s fine, we are giving our daughter to a nurse elf for the day and we are fucking. We are fucking for hours on end.” His voice was gruff. Ginny was already falling asleep on his chest, and he squeezed her buttocks lightly. “You’re a good mother and a good wife, Ginevra.”

That woke her up properly.

Ginny raised her head up and stared at him.

“What?” He looked back at her. “I don’t hear Phaedra crying again—what?” His eyes narrowed at her.

“That’s the second time you’ve done that, Lucius.” Ginny frowned at him.

“Done—what?” He looked confused.

“You just called me your wife.”

His face was expressionless, but she could tell that he was going back over their conversation in his mind, sorting through all of his words meticulously.

There was a pause.

“When did I do it before?” He sounded a little distant.

“That night we went out to dinner—after I told you I’d go off of my birth control. You did it at dinner.” She sounded a little frantic, and Lucius rolled out from under her, sitting up on the edge of the bed. Ginny continued. “Well, I didn’t bring it to your attention then.” She paused for a moment, watching him, looking at the back of him. “What’s wrong? Why are you facing away from me?”

He rubbed at his head with his hands and then stood, facing her. Lucius opened his mouth as if to say something, and then turned away again, visibly distressed. Ginny watched him as he began to pace, her mouth slightly open—she had never seen him as putout as this.

“What are you—come here,” she said, trying to grab at him with flailing arms. “Will you just—stop moving! What is wrong with you?”

Lucius ran an aggravated hand through his hair. “I think I want to marry you.”

Ginny sat back on her heels. “You think?” Her mouth was open, and he couldn’t tell if she was offended that he even wanted to marry her, or because he had used such vague wording.

“No, I think I know. I know I want to marry you.”

She frowned. “Why?”

Lucius stopped moving and faced her. “I—I—” He fell silent.

Ginny exhaled and frowned harder. “Why? Because you want to make your daughter legitimate? Is there enough of the Pureblood shite left in the world that that is your reason?”

“No, not entirely.” He looked uncomfortable.

“Not entirely? So it’s part of the reason? She’s just a baby. She doesn’t need to be legitimate. I don’t want her to be traded off to some Pureblooded shit-head like a commodity. Will you use her to gain another salt mine?”

Lucius winced, and then narrowed his eyes. “No, and that was uncalled for. You’ve escalated this discussion very quickly and I think it’s partially because you’re so exhausted—”

“I know that, Lucius. I’m exhausted and I’m probably overreacting, but—” she swiped a hand through her hair. “How could I believe that you want to marry me out of anything but societal expectations and rules? You’ve never even said that you’ve loved me—and I said I was fine with that, and I am, if we continue on this path. But—but I don’t want myself or my daughter to be playing pieces in some Pureblood world.”

“I’m barely part of that world.”

“But you still are. You’re the head of one of the oldest families. I just—” Her shoulders slumped and he felt the overwhelming urge to gather her into his arms. “I feel as though you care for me more without the title of husband or wife—as though—as though you have to fight for it. For the relationship. As though you have to fight to make it work, because we aren’t bound together and because we’re so illegitimate.” Suddenly, her voice became harsher and more frantic, as though she was coming to some sort of realisation “This is so, so against Pureblood society rules—you, holed up in your mansion, with your blood traitor girlfriend and your bastard baby.” Her voice rose.

Lucius strode toward her so suddenly that she didn’t see him coming, and he grabbed her wrists so hard she knew they would bruise. He looked furious.

“You’re hurting me,” she said calmly, instantly sobered.

“If it shuts you the fuck up, I don’t care,” he hissed, shaking her slightly. She was briefly reminded of the Lucius she had seen in the Ministry back when she was fourteen. Ginny didn’t wince, merely met his eyes.

Lucius wanted to rattle some sense into her. She was kneeling up on the bed, meeting his eyes, her wrists held tightly in his hands. It had to hurt. He knew it had to hurt, because he was holding her so tightly that his own fingers were losing feeling. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to smack her or kiss her.

“Listen to me,” he growled. “Listen to me, and don’t interrupt, or I’ll hide you. You’re acting your goddamned age. Not everything has to be about flowery fucking sentiments, all I-love-you and handkerchiefs and presents and poetry.”

“I never said it was,” she answered evenly.

“Shut up, shut up. You don’t listen to me.” He looked odd, as though he were holding back tears, or trying to say something that was stuck in his throat. “I don’t want to marry you because I want to legitimize our daughter. It’s not about that. Not about Pureblood expectations, not about having the perfect Pureblood wife. I had that, don’t you see? I had that and it ended poorly and it wasn’t good. Yes, if I married you, our daughter would have more rights—if I died, or if you died, the living spouse wouldn’t have to worry about someone taking her away. Think about it, Ginevra. What happens if you die—or if something grievous happens to you? Phaedra will get taken away from me. You know that as well as I do. I have no rights over her.”

Ginny inhaled.

“So yes, I suppose, in some way, marriage would legitimize her. If she were ever orphaned, she would have access to the Malfoy fortunes, and would never go needy. But that’s not it. I want to marry you because I already think of you as a wife, and a part of me—call it some old-fashioned part—needs a wedding to make that official, to make me believe that you would never leave. And I know that you didn’t want a marriage, and I don’t want anything to become loveless. I don’t want you to fear turning into your mother. But I can’t imagine my life without you.”

He stopped, winded slightly.

“And I do love you.” He dropped her wrists, making as though to step back.

She was too fast for him, reacting like lightning.

Ginny grabbed his face and pulled him haphazardly and violently to her, kissing him roughly, gasping into his mouth, curling her hands in his hair. Lucius let her kiss him, his hands by his side. She tasted salty and sweet—she pressed her breasts into his chest, dug her fingers into the nape of his neck.

When she pulled away, sucking briefly on his lower lip, she grabbed his hand and placed a kiss in the centre of the palm. “Let’s get married.”

“When?” He didn’t even appear taken aback.

“Tomorrow? Can we fill out the papers at the Ministry and be married by an official there?”

Lucius nodded slowly. “Yes, we could.”

“Well—do you want me to wear white? I don’t really want to.”

“No,” he said. “No, just wear what you want. We can go in the afternoon, maybe around two o’clock?”

Ginny nodded. “The more low-key, the better. The papers might not catch on.”

“Good.”

Lucius paused, and then somewhat awkwardly slid into the bed, and she slipped under the covers beside him. They were both silent. Lucius finally allowed the shock he felt at Ginny’s consent to wash over him, and Ginny was smiling into the dark at his admission of love.

She turned over and laid an arm across his chest, and he took her hand, stroking it thoughtfully.


---


The next day, Lucius and Ginny were married quietly, without much ceremony, at the Ministry in the middle of the afternoon. She had eschewed the diamond in lieu of a simple, thick band, identical to his, but instead of the left ring finger, they wore theirs on the right.

“It will stop people from asking stupid questions,” Ginny had said, and Lucius had nodded and then kissed her forehead.

When they left the Ministry at three o’clock, Ginny wearing a sharp pantsuit and Lucius in his traditional waistcoat and trousers, they were officially husband and wife.


---


The letter came a few weeks after that, but Ginny decided that it was only coincidence, the timing.

She recognised the writing immediately, even though it had been long—too long—since she had seen her mother’s penmanship on paper.

She was still holding the paper in her fingers when Lucius came into the room fifteen minutes later, his daughter held on his hip, and if Ginny hadn’t been so distracted she might have laughed at the stereotypically matriarchal position that Lucius had assumed—one hip cocked out to provide a sort of ledge for his daughter, one long arm snaked around the baby body.

As it was, she was looking out the window, and this made him move quickly over to her, take the paper from her hands worriedly, read it, his eyes scanning.

When he set it down, she looked up at him, and their smiles matched—small but hopeful.

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