In Love and War

I'm so sorry for the lack of updates. We were in the middle of a move all summer and have finally gotten settled. This chapter isn't quite to where I would like it to be, but sometimes that happens.

For those of you who are eager for the lemons, don't worry... they will be coming up within the next few chapters.

Enjoy and be kind. Happy Halloween everyone!

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Chapter 7

He had followed her from a distance when he had seen her emerge from the bank. He hid in the shadows, just watching her beautiful face smiling with a child who was obviously her daughter. She would laugh at something the girl would say and her face would light up for just a moment and her lips would turn up, flashing a row of beautiful white teeth. Within moments, the smile that she had unintentionally shown to the world was gone quicker than it appeared.

He stood inside the window of Flourish and Blotts, across the street from the ridiculous shop the Weasley boys owned and watched her emerge from the gaily flashing signs with a haunted look on her face. Even from his view point he could see the shine of tears on her crestfallen face. He had never in all of his years seen someone so sad. Her eyes, even in their sadness, caused a wave of guilt to wash over him. He couldn't explain why it affected him so much, but he knew without knowing her now that her dejection and pain was somehow because of him.

After that he said that he would leave her alone, that he wouldn't burden her with his presence, that seeing him would only make it more difficult for her, but he couldn't walk away. Lucius didn't know how it happened, but he watched as his feet took him to her lonely table. He tried to keep his hands to himself, to not touch her skin, to only stand next to her for a moment, but his traitorous body wouldn't allow him.

He placed his hand on her shoulder, delighting in the warmth that came off of her skin and her tantalizing scent of vanilla, peach and cinnamon.

He wasn't even aware of speaking to her and sitting down. He was too content to be near her that his own movements and those around him didn't even register to him. It was an unusual feeling for him. He had lived his entire life studying every action of those around him, but this girl, this woman did something to him. Her nearness seemed to lift the weights and burdens that he carried. He felt as if he were Atlas and he was being relieved.

“Lucius.” He heard her say, almost in a whisper. Her voice had softened over the years, it was like a haunting melody that you always remembered, it had the touch of warm fragrant air kissing your cheeks. It was a beautiful sound, the breathlessness of a woman.

There were no words needed, even though his mind was screaming with questions that didn't leave his lips. He wanted to know what her life was like, who her daughter was, if she was happy. It didn't matter though, he was happy to just be near her, to see her face, the face he had given everything up for.

He had mourned and grieved while in prison. He had analyzed every action, every step he had ever taken. He had near gone mad being left alone with his thoughts. They haunted him, invading his dreams, racing through his mind in every waking moment. He didn't necessarily regret his actions, that was his life, they were his beliefs. If one was raised to think that pumpkin juice was dangerous to your health, you would never drink it and would ensure that it was never in your house. It was the same with muggles. He had always been taught that they were evil, that they would corrupt and unbalance the fragile world that wizards lived in. It wasn't right, and as he grew, he should have been able to see the blatant lies that he had been fed, but he didn't. They were so ingrained within his psyche that it had taken extreme loss to cure him of his fascim.

He sighed and pushed away his dark thoughts and allowed himself to just bask in her presence. Her face had softened with age, taking on a more heart shape. Her lips were still full and had a slight sheen of pink gloss on them. Her body, while still delicately small had filled out a bit. Her breasts were fuller, about the size of a grown mans palm, and her hips flared out just a bit, giving her a bit more of the curves that were barely there as a teenager.

She placed her palm over his hand and smiled at him. His eyes trailed down her arm to where it rested on his hands. He used his thumb to stroke the small tattoo that graced her skin.

“Thank you.” She said quietly as a tear streaked down her cheek.

“I remember a night sitting on my bed.” Lucius started, his steel eyes locked on the snake slithering across her skin. “I have never been a man who feared death, but in the same way, I am not a man who wanted it. I sat there, the cold seeping into my skin, the putrid smell of my cell turning my stomach. I can't explain it to you, and I wouldn't even try, but that night I felt you. You were so happy, yet so full of pain, I was near doubled over with it. I could almost taste the salt in the tears you must have been crying, I could almost smell your scent. It was one of the most profound experiences of my life.”

He watched her eyes flash with confusion then understanding. Her pert mouth turned up into a smile, that she graciously bestowed upon him.

“That was the night my daughter was born. I was in so much pain, I was alone, trying to bring a child into the world. I didn't think I could do it, but for the briefest moment I felt some kind of relief. It didn't ease the pain, but it gave me strength and I felt calm.”

He wanted to ask why she was alone, where her husband was, even if she was married. He didn't ask, he probably didn't want to know. Lucius heard her sigh as she removed her hand from his. He watched her look off into the fading sunlight and felt a pang of guilt as the melancholy washed over her face.

“I have to go.” She said softly.

“Would you like for me to escort you home?” The gentlemen in him asked. It was hard to quell the notion that screamed at him to demand to see her home. Malfoy's did not ask, but for her, he would.

She smiled that small smile that tugged at a corner in his chest and lowered her cinnamon eyes. He watched her glance around them and then settle on him once again. Her surprisingly cold hand touched his cheek and smiled. He didn't grimace against her like the last time. He leaned into her palm and breathed deep her scent, committing it to memory in case he didn't see her again.

He felt her breath near his ear, sending currents of hot electricity through his body, her lips just millimeters away from his skin. “I know that no one will agree with me, but I'm glad you're back in the world.”

He watched her lips turn up and her eyes that had been so intent on him, seemed so far away, almost like she was somewhere else.

“Goodnight, Lucius.” Her breath was a sweet caress against his skin.

He closed his eyes, for some unknown reason he didn't want to watch her go. He waited ten more minutes then left some money on the table in case she forgot to pay. He walked down Diagon Alley with an arrogant strut, holding his cane in his hand. When he reached the apparition point he turned with a pop and landed in the front foyer of the manor.

He called for an elf to prepare him a light meal and made his way to his bedroom. He changed into a pair of silk pants and threw on a robe to cover his naked chest. The small elf knocked tentatively on his door and he called out for it to enter.

“Good evening master. I have prepared soup and a chicken breast for you, as well as some bread with an assortment of wines for you. I set up a table in the library in front of the French doors. Is this pleasing to you?” The elf asked in a small voice.

“Yes, thank you. I will be down shortly.”

He wandered the halls of his home. The portraits of his ancestors stared down on him, disgust written all over their oil and canvas faces while venomous words dripped from their lips. He ignored them as he walked, but had finally had enough after about ten minutes. He turned to the painting of his father, Abraxas, as the man screamed “blood traitor” from his gilded frame.

Lucius became a man enraged. He ripped the portrait from the wall and tore it apart with his bare hands. He felt the canvas slice his skin, dripping blood onto the cream colored carpet that lined the hall. He didn't even feel the shards of wood dig into his skin as he rendered the painting and priceless frame to shreds.

“I refuse to listen to you bastards a moment more. This house has too many fucking voices for my liking. I am your lord and I will tolerate you no longer.” He yelled in a rage, his voice broken with buried hatred.

He ripped down every portrait, burning some and shredding the others. He stalked the house like a mad man ready for the final kill and that taste of sublime satisfaction. He tore apart his home in his search to clear it of their presence. By the time he was done the only painting that he left was that of his son.

“Redecorating Father?”

Lucius looked up to see his son's face curved into a look of deep interest and humor. It was a side that he knew many didn't have the pleasure of seeing. His son had been sarcastic, funny, full of wit and without a doubt intelligent. Oh he was spoiled and immature, but Lucius knew the amount of pressure his son must have felt. He was raised to one day be the keeper of the family, the lord and protector of their line. He had been born with a sense of responsibility, with a heavy duty placed upon his shoulders that was too much for a young person to carry. But even in death Draco was an amusement. He would call out to his father and joke with the older man to try and put a smile on his cold face.

“Good evening Draco. Enjoying the show?” Lucius asked in a hardened voice. He was a man of many masks and his cool demeaning one had just slipped on.

“I wouldn't say that. You see, I had a very difficult day, watching the elves wander through the house, dusting things that were already in pristine condition. Then, mother went on a rampage through the other portraits going on and on about how much better her Black blood was to theirs. Grandfather obviously heard enough because he told her to go to her portrait at Aunt Andromeda's. Yes, it was a busy day and I needed a nap.” Draco drawled in a somewhat bored voice.

“I am so sorry to disturb you Draco. If that is a difficult day for you, maybe I should place you in one of the vaults so that you can watch spiders crawl and cobwebs accumulate.” He said, sarcasm near dripping from his lips and his ever present sneer gracing his patrician features.

“Ahh, yes father, but then again... who would you talk to?” Draco asked in faked concern, like the issue was a grave one. Lucius would have almost believed the boys sincerity until he caught the smirk that was hiding in his son's high cheekbones.

Hermione Granger's face flashed in before his eyes as he looked at his son and saw his full lips flashing the briefest smile.

“So, you saw her today?” Draco asked, realization dawning on his face.

“That is none of your business. Good evening to you Draco.” Lucius turned on his bare heel leaving his son's questioning voice behind him.

“One question Father, and then I will leave you to your thoughts for the evening.” Draco called down the hall to his father's retreating back. His voice surprisingly serious for once.

Lucius stopped, not even bothering to look at his son.

“Was she hot?” A snicker bubbled forth from Draco's painted mouth.

He smiled, recalling her unbearably sweet, heart shaped face in surprising detail. He had memorized her features and was able to pull them up with startling character. Her once curly hair was now straight and fell to her shoulders in a shimmer of colors. When she was deep in thought she would pull her plump bottom lips in between her tiny white teeth. And her eyes! Her eyes held the secrets of the world.

“She was quite adequate.” He wanted to keep her vision to himself for just a while later. “She was more than adequate. Is that all?”

“Sorry Father, inquiring minds want to know.” Draco was silent for a moment before asking the most important question. “Was she happy to see you?”

He ignored his son as feet took the path that would lead him to the library, looking at the bare walls along the way. It was definitely an improvement to the generations of Malfoy's that were constantly calling out to him their silly advice. He thought to maybe redecorate the mansion.

With those thoughts he sat down to his solitary meal and sipped his wine slowly, his thoughts consumed with the woman he had sat with today. He was perplexed by his reactions to her. Lucius Malfoy had always been a solitary man, much like the Malfoy's that came before him. He spent his life twisting and turning peoples thoughts, letting them think they needed him, but he never needed them. Everyone, including his wife and child were merely accessories to his lifestyle. He respected his family, but always felt above them. But Hermione Granger. She was a mystery to him. He felt that he needed her, that she would be his salvation. A part of his mind, the part ruled by his possibly archaic beliefs, argued that she wasn't essential to his life, that she was only a lowly mudblood. As much as he tried to stir those feelings up, they just wouldn't come. Too many years of feeling her through his mark had banished any ill thoughts he might have once carried towards her. What he felt in her presence was something peculiar. She was a sense of serenity, of extreme beauty, even though many may not agree.

He looked over his books while his mind churned, coming up with new reasons to have her more present in his life. He would set aside his beliefs once and for all in order to keep her striking face in front of him at all times. Seeing her daughter, he was sure that the girl was about ready to go to Hogwarts and having known for sometime as a once governor that school was getting ready to begin any day now.

He didn't know if she was married or not. In truth, he didn't care. He wasn't the Dark Lord's right hand man for nothing. If there was a husband or significant other he was confident that he could push him out of the picture with little or no effort. But, what would be enough to keep her near him, at his side.

Knowing her Gryffindor mind, he was sure it had to be something honest. He didn't want her pity, but a little bit of pleading could sometimes get a man further. More flies with honey he would say.

While his plans formed , Draco's words echoes in his mind and the last question the inquisitive boy had asked pounded in his ears.

“Was she happy to see you?” Draco had asked.

Lucius hadn't favored his son with an answer because he didn't know and wasn't certain that he wanted to, but he had high hopes.