The Radiant

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She sighed as she sat on the floor of her apartment, sorting through the various items that Draco had left in her flat. An old jersey, a bottle of whisky, two pairs of underwear, one sock. She had folded the clothes and laid them in a small box, but had decided to keep the whisky.

Sitting in her armchair, she stared at the ceiling.

Shit.

She was upset. She was upset but not hysterical because Ginny had thought, secretly, from the beginning that her and Draco were not destined to be together forever. It was a sort of fling – at least for her. How could she spend her life with a man who didn’t read books? He had left her because he said she was getting “frigid and distant” and she was sure that he had already found someone new to warm his bed. That thought didn’t bother her, really. It had often been just about the sex. What bothered her was how abrupt it was – no closure, no nothing, just a frayed end of a rope, hanging. And now she just wanted to get the process over and done with, and that meant giving back his stuff and

Shit

Getting hers back from him, too. Ginny swore out loud.

“Fuck. Oh fuck.” She had loaned Draco a few of her favourite books.

Don’t want to but I have to do this now, I have to do this now –

Ginny flooed him. He had been home, and Draco had curtly informed her that they were “at the Manor” and had disappeared from the green flames before she had time to respond.

Bugger and bugger.

She just wanted to get the whole damn process over with, just over and done with. Blinking back a few unexpected tears, Ginny made her decision.

---

She banged on the door of the Manor.

What a terrible idea.

She wasn’t even sure if anyone was home – but maybe an elf could let her in and she could look for her books without anyone ever knowing that she had been there –

“Miss Weasley.”

Ginny jumped.

“Oh. I hadn’t heard the door open.” Lucius was in the doorway, his head slightly tilted to one side as he scrutinized her. “Why are you opening your own front door?” His mouth turned up slightly.

“You are belligerent, aren’t you? What do you want, you pert thing.”

Ginny tried to smile but found she couldn’t, and when she spoke her tongue felt cottony and dead.

“Draco –” her voice tilted slightly and she tried again. “Draco took some of my books – I loaned them to him and apparently he’s moved them… here. So – so some of my favourite works are somewhere in your house – possibly in your library – and I would like…” She looked down at her feet for a second as if to blink back tears again but that this time she didn’t have to. “I would like to look for them. Please.”

And then he was holding her hand all of a sudden and Ginny closed her eyes against the feeling of it, of his thumb moving slowly over the pearly skin of her inner wrist, feeling her pulse.

“Yes, yes. I’ll be in my study but you can have free reign of the library for as long as you like.” He looked almost sympathetic, opened his mouth as if deciding to say something else but jolted himself and stopped, gently releasing her hand and opening the door wider for her.

She stepped inside.


---


She hadn’t found them. She hadn’t found the bloody, fucking books. Draco had moved them or taken them or done something with them and now she couldn’t find them. She tilted her head back. It had been a half hour of searching so far and her vision was starting to black out around the corners from her rage.

She turned on her heel and jerked open the library door, making her way to find one Lucius Malfoy and inform him of his son’s misdemeanours.


---


Ginny paraded into Lucius’ study like a bullfighter, snapping her arms as though she were rolling a red flag. When she pushed the door open, his head jerked up and he stared at her. She looked like the Morrigan, her hair moving lushly as she tossed her head, impatient and breathing like a rode horse, her fingernails catching the light as she moved her arms in angry, wonderful movements.

“That son of a bitch!”

His eyebrows shot up and he put down his quill and paper.

“Can I help you, Miss Weasley?”

She walked right up to his desk, pressing her thighs against the front edge of it, as she bent over. Lucius looked down at her knuckles as she planted her hands near the edge of the desk closest to him, and she leaned down so that her face was near to his.

He was rather taken aback.

Ginny snorted.

“I cannot find them.”

Lucius noticed her pupils – dilated and flickering – and her nostrils – flared with her anger – and the way her freckles spanned her nose, spreading out like a blush or a map. He stared back at her.

“You’re this angered over a few books?”

She stiffened.

“They were my favourites! He had my Coleridge and my Conrad and my Murdoch and worst of all – worst of all – he had my Euripides!”

Lucius furrowed his brow.

“Were they worth anything?”

“No! Not really. Not monetary. But they were mine – they were mine – and they had all my goddamned notes and my dog-ears. They had my markings on them. They weren’t his to move around. They were mine! He never read them, anyway. He never read any goddamned books.”

Watching her anger bloom was fantastic, but Lucius had the thought that while her books did mean such a great deal to her, perhaps the anger was being channeled from a different place within.

“I realize, Miss Weasley, that you are the wronged woman in this whole –” and here he contemplated what word to use – “whole mess. However, I really think –”

What little control she had on her emotions was snapped brittlely in that one moment – the past months of trying to school her reactions around both father and son and the typhoon was unleashed.

Ginny growled and lunged.

“Wronged woman! Dear god, what fucking century do you live in, Lucius?” His back straightened, poker-like and rigid, when he heard her use his given name, and it was almost enough to distract him from the absolutely inappropriate tone she was using with him. “I am so sick of your goddamned family and their goddamned attitudes.” She straightened up. “And here you are, sitting behind this damned desk, using it as a shield! Are you a coward? A bloody coward? Are you afraid of me?” She moved to the side of the desk, kicking it sharply, and continued her verbal barrage from a closer vantage point, moving nearer to him as she railed. “For god’s sake! For god’s sake! You can’t even stand up to talk to me!” She was directly beside him now, placing her foot on his chair and pushing him roughly away from the desk. The abrupt movement shook Lucius back to life. He narrowed his eyes and his jaw set sharply - dangerously. Ginny moved to stand wedged between him and the desk, leaning over again, placing her hands directly on the arms of his desk chair. “It’s as if you Malfoy gentlemen just need to man. up.” Her voice was vitriolic and hissing and staccato, and Lucius had quite simply had enough.

She opened her mouth to speak again.

He moved far too fast for her to even realize what was happening.

Lucius reached out and grabbed the back of her neck, pulling at the sensitive skin and the fine baby-like hairs there as he curled his fingers farther up into her hair, twisting his hand and holding her immobile. He reached his other arm around and placed the other large hand in the middle of her lower back, and with both hands he pulled forward, sharply, painfully.

Ginny fell onto his lap.

He had to give her credit. She did not scream. Her mouth was not hanging open. Her eyes, rather, had narrowed like his had done previously, and she was simply watching him, breathing heavily through her nose.

Lucius reached down with both hands and pulled violently at her thighs, placing them on either side of his own legs. With a sharp yank, she was tugged into him, her soft, hot flesh settling over him, her skirt riding up so that all that separated them between her legs were his trousers and the thin lace of her underwear. He could feel her burning through them.

Enough was really enough.

He brought both hands up to her face and, brutally pulling, her face was down to his and then he kissed her. That was when she made her first sound: Ginny gasped into his mouth and he brought a hand up to the back of her head, winding his fingers into the hair again as he clicked teeth with her, bit at her lower lip until he could taste her blood tang, pushed his tongue into her mouth. When she tasted her own blood, she growled, and began to come to her senses.

Instead of fighting him, however, Lucius was surprised to feel her hands twist in the material of his shirt right below his collar. She hissed into him, her eyes open as they kissed, her hips rocking slightly against his.

Enough.

Standing, he held her under her legs, kicked his chair even farther away from the desk, and roughly pushed her back onto the top of the desk, lying atop his papers and quills. His inkpot tipped over as he did so and the black liquid started to ooze down the desk towards them but Lucius didn’t care and neither did she, apparently.

She raised her head to look at him as he tore open her shirt, yanking her bra down so swiftly that she was sure she would have abrasions in the morning, as he tossed her skirt up to her waist, ripped – literally ripped – her underwear off. Lucius removed his belt so quickly that it snapped, the leather sounding wet and whip-like. His trousers were undone and then he was bare, released into his hand, erect and thick, and before she could lower her head to the hard surface of the desk he was there, brushing against her inner thigh, and then he was completely inside her, inside fully, and her breath was gone from her and she hit her head back against the desk, gasping.

Ginny made the most guttural sound as her legs reflexively came up around his waist, but Lucius gave her no quarter and instead began a brutal, driving pace, thrusting into her so powerfully that she had to hold onto his wrists where they were holding her hips for fear that she would fall off of the desk.

The spilt ink was smeared along her ribcage and her earlobe and the fingers of his right hand.

Lucius leaned down and began to speak.

“When you fucked my son on my desk, is this what you were picturing?”

How close he was to the truth – she made a sound that closely resembled a sob, and he sped up, his hands traveling from her hips to grip at her shoulders, keeping her pinned beneath his movements. Because she could not slide up the desk, her body was made to accept each of his drives, her soft flesh yielding to his hard lines and tendons. Her teeth jarred and chattered with each of his movements, the molars clacking in time as he thrust again and again into her.

“Were you thinking of me” – and here he snarled – “Ginevra?”

At mention of her name, Ginny reared up and spat at him, right into his face and he laughed – he laughed – and wiped it off with his sleeve and then and lowered himself almost on top of her, his hips never ceasing the tattoo that they were blazoning out.

“You are so fucking spirited –” this whispered into her ear, and she craned her head to look up at him, watching his face, noting that so many of his stress lines and creases were gone in fucking, were smoothed out, his lips relaxed with pleasure, his eyes boring down on her, relentless. The wool of his trousers was chafing at her calves and his fingers were hot, branding her shoulders with bruises that would mark her as his for days to come.

She made a strangled, muted sound that almost came out of her mouth as a laugh, or as a moan.

“Fuck me.” She hissed the two words into the pathways of his ear and he stifled a groan in his throat, tightening his grip on her, moving his face away from hers and down into her hair, next to her ear, avoiding her eyes as he moved harder and faster, impossibly, impossibly so. And then he shifted, rolling his hips up slightly and before she could swear out loud with the pleasure of it, he had hit the same spot again, and by the third time she was coming, gripping at the broad mesa of his shoulders, her legs tightening like a vise around his hips. She was coming – hadn’t stopped coming – and her head was thrown back and she was hoarsely crying his name over and over again – Lucius, Lucius, Lucius. He was overcome and the vertebrae at the base of his spine seemed to lock, rigid, as he came hotly inside of her, wave after wave.

He lowered himself to his forearms, not quite resting his body on top of hers, and he saw that his entire right arm was stained black with ink. The tips of her red hair were black – her right hand and her right flank, the line of her side – all black. The inkpot was empty, gaping on its side. The two of them were stained.

She let her legs drop from around him. The flesh peeling away from flesh made a sweet, sticking sound.

“Oh, fuck.” Her words were sighed. He sighed in return, and lifted himself off of her. As he straightened up, Lucius surveyed the woman beneath him.

Ginny’s eyes were half closed, her pupils black and huge, matching the ink-shade of her right side. Her shirt was gaping, torn, and her breasts were chafed from the movement of his shirt against them. He looked down between her legs as he pulled out from her, watching her pink and red wet flesh, the sticky silver strands of their damned rutting still attached to him and to her, and he reached a hand down to bat them away.

Ginny shut her legs slowly, wincing as she sat up to look at him. Lucius sat back down in his desk chair, staring at her, breathing only just a little heavier than normal.

“I’m a mess.”

He wasn’t sure if she was talking about her current physical appearance or her emotional state, but with that utterance she slid off of the desk, picking up the rag that was once her underwear, righting her skirt, pulling her bra back up to cover her reddened nipples. As she held her shirt together as best she could, she turned and began to walk purposefully out of his study.

Lucius tilted his head, his eyes on her back, interested.

Ginny stopped in the doorway and looked back over her shoulder.

“Yes. I was thinking of you.”

She left, closing the door behind her, and he heard her leaving the manor.


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well, it's the chapter you've all been slavering for, you perverts. hope this whets the carnal appetite for a while! thanks to my reviewers:BeaBibliophile and Lexi.