Lucius and the Thief

Okies, so this is story number 2 out of 3...

ummm..yeah I should really be doing uni work, instead of indulging myself in these Lucius fantasies, but hey!! cest, la vie! btw, feel free to add chapters to this as I write if it's boring or whatever = p

Chapter 1

The Thief and the Magician


The night was warm; the cobblestones were cool against the bare soles of her feet as she ran.
A growing roar of angry voices were closing in on her, she could here their steel capped boots thumping against the stone floor, and ricocheting off the alleyway walls.

“Bitch!” they cried in harsh, savage tones.

Isabelle grinned to herself as she sped through the narrow streets, the sound of expensive silverware rattled against her hips inside her pockets.
She glanced back, there were three of them now, and they were all wielding iron bars, she scoffed out loud at their primeval weapons, as if a few scraps of metal would scare her; stupid Muggles.
She tore through an abandoned park, the moonlight shone brilliantly, illuminating her path and dancing across the ground.
It was here she abruptly stopped, and clambered cat-like into a large oak. She crouched down low between the branches and waited for the men to thunder past her hiding spot.
Angry voices tore through the calm night air.

“Where’d she go?” one boomed.

Isabelle kept extremely still, forcing out her breaths in shallow measures.

Eventually after a much-failed scouting of the park, the men withdrew, clutching their blunt weapons with seething hatred.

When she was sure they were gone, Isabelle slipped out of the tree and touched the grass with her bare feet. She laughed softly to herself and fingered the fine silverware in her coat pockets, she brought out a small goblet and examined it, “worth every pretty penny it will sell for.” She thought to herself smugly.
Feeling suddenly overwhelmed she decided to find a place to sleep.

There were many beautiful places to stay in Paris, hotels with silk sheets and fine wines, Isabelle had become accustomed to such places as a child, but when her parents had died and left her with nothing, she had to take on quite a new way of life.
She paced up and down the doorways and benches of the high street, wondering which she was least likely to be kicked off from first thing in the morning, the street lights let off a soft, warm glow that made her feel drowsy.
Her eyes drooped suddenly, her head felt light, she yawned deeply, screwing up her eyes to the light of a passing car.
When she opened them again, a figure stood before her, distorted in shadow, she thought she recognized his lopsided stance, but was too tiered to make any connection.
Before she could think any harder the figure was lumbering towards her, a cold rush of fear swept over her as she saw a flash of a wand tip in he man’s hand.
Hands were suddenly clasping her round the throat, a crooked face came into view under the orange light of the lamps.
Isabelle felt her heart stop. It was her associate.

“So thought you would make off with the goods for yourself did you?” he rasped through scarred lips.

Isabelle could only choke against his grip in response.

“The boss will be pleased when he sees what I have managed to snatch on my own.”
He slurred, as he reached into her pockets and grabbed hold of some silver.

At that point she felt his grip loosen, without hesitation she brought her knee into contact with his groin and fled, leaving him gasping on the floor.

Isabelle ran until her legs burst with pain, not daring to look back, sensing a very real fear that the men who were chasing her earlier could never induce.
Streets and windows shot passed her in a whirl of frenzied moonlight, when a sudden ripple of material made her skid to a halt.
An open window was before her; its thin drapes flapping in the breeze.

Without another thought she clambered up the nearest drainpipe and hauled herself in over the frame.
She landed with a soft * flump * on a soft sheeted bed, she knew instantly by the quality of the silk, that this was an expensive hotel.
Quickly scrambled off the mattress she made her way silently across the warm carpet and fumbled with the door, it was locked.

She sighed gently to herself in relief; obviously this suite would not be used tonight.
An ornate golden clock on the wall told her it was midnight, she grinned and decided to make the best of the situation at hand.

* * *


Lucius Malfoy was inconceivably exhausted, since the death of his Dark Lord, there were many ex-supporters who had to be silenced before they leaked any unwanted information to the Ministry.

He waited at the front desk of the Muggle hotel with a look of utter distain on his face.
The receptionist telephoned nervously for a porter to show him to his room, she blushed and kept her head down as she spoke to avoid his dissatisfied sneer.

“Room 201 Mr. Malfoy.” She stuttered handing him the key with trembling fingers, she had almost spun off her usual “have a pleasant stay”, but trailed off for fear of enraging him further.

Lucius completely ignored her as he took the key from her and followed an equally apprehensive porter to his room.

Luicus paced down the corridor after the cowering whelp of a teenager that lead him.
In usual circumstances he would have liked nothing better than to apparate home to his quarters and enjoy a large firewhisky, but tonight he simply did not have the energy.
He glanced about the tacky gold chandeliers and fake paintings with distaste. Muggle riches seemed so vulgar to him.

Eventually he was let into his room, and resisting the urge to beat the young recoiling idiot before him, slammed the door firmly shut behind in his face instead.

The room was dark, and the window had been left open but Lucius didn’t care, he expected no less stupidity from Muggles.
Without another qualm, he began unbuttoning his robes.
As he shrugged off his shirt, a rustling noise came from the opposite end of the room, by the bed.
He froze; surely the Minstry would not follow him here?
After a while of silence nothing further happened, deciding not to turn on the light and startle the intruder, he whispered to his wand “lumos!”
A pale blue light filled the room and rested on a figure that lay across his bed for the night.

Outraged he swept across the room to wake the intruder, but when he reached the foot of the bed, he paused despite himself.
He stood and stared at the figure of a young girl before him, no older than seventeen, folds of dark hair obscured her face, and she was wrapped in a thin silk sheet, her body underneath was naked.

Lucius felt a cold thrill of cruel excitement pass over him, it had been a while since he had taken a girl so delicate and young; she looked so deliciously vulnerable lying there that he felt he needed to act on his impulse.

But an intense throbbing pain was working it’s way up his spine and the backs of his legs, his mouth was dry and his mind was exhausted.
He grunted in irritation and decided to take a long bath instead.
If the girl was still there in the morning when he woke up, he would make use of her then; if not, he would find another girl to entertain him, besides, he could not be sure if she was a Muggle, and he was not dim-witted enough to take that risk.