Waiting | Lucius Malfoy

Chapter One | Right Place, Wrong Time

Malfoy Manor was as cold as always.

Every time she waited for Draco in the foyer, Guinevere cursed herself for forgetting how to perform a basic warming charm. It was such a useful spell and yet, since leaving Hogwarts, it was the one that always escaped her. She scolded herself internally and made a mental note to double-check it when she got home. Whenever that would be. She had agreed to meet Draco at 8 pm as always and a glance at the magnificent grandfather clock to the left told her that she was precisely half an hour early. Guinevere had always been in the habit of exceptional timekeeping. So much so, that she often forgot that there was no need to take travel time into account when apparating.

Being in Gryffindor had left her with an innate need to be perfect. The "Golden Trio" had constantly overshadowed the rest of the house at any given moment and despite her eternal gratitude to Potter for saving the existence of good in the Wizarding world, Guinevere still felt slight resentment towards the three of them. That resentment had been the catalyst of Draco and Guinevere's relationship. It was the shared moment that caused the two of them to look at each other differently. After working at the Ministry for two years - out of choice for Guinevere and out of obligation and parole for Draco - they had bonded over their hatred of Potter Day , a national holiday that signified the end of the Wizarding War. Footsteps dragged Guinevere reluctantly from her thoughts and a shiver encompassed her spine as she looked to the stairs to find their owner. There he was. Blonde, handsome and frightfully intimidating.

"Miss Grace. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Lucius drawled, tapping his cane against the metal of the bannister. Even after all these years, he still carried the bastard thing wherever he walked. He had no need for it, so Guinevere could only presume it was some sort of power move.

"Mr Malfoy! I didn't think you'd be here tonight." She willed herself not to show any sort of fear, particularly not now. He was harmless. A bigoted bastard in his younger days, but harmless. She found herself subconsciously clutching her coat jacket tight across her chest.

"Miss Grace, you know that I've requested for you to call me Lucius several times. Why is it that you seem to go against my wishes?" He let out a gentle chuckle, making his way down the staircase at a leisurely pace, without breaking eye contact.

Guinevere shifted her left leg, checking subtly that her wand was still safely strapped to her thigh. She had met Lucius countless times throughout her relationship with Draco and she never knew what mood she'd find him in. It varied each visit and she was always prepared for the worst. The war had certainly affected him, contrary to popular belief amongst the wizarding community. "I'm sorry," she muttered, before gaining a smidge of confidence. "But I really must insist you call me Guinevere if I'm to call you by your first name. It would feel improper otherwise." That wasn't the real reason, but in her flustered state, she had realised that she'd never heard Lucius call her Guinevere and she wanted to hear him say it.

"Very well...Guinevere." Lucius smiled at her, baring his teeth. It was a foreign expression as she tried to place the last time she'd seen him show any sort of positive emotion. He had moved to stand in front of her, reaching for her hand. Trying her best to keep from shaking, she held it to him as he raised it to his mouth and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. "Draco is caught up at the Ministry. He owled asking for me to keep you company while you wait as he had a feeling you'd be early. Your coat?"

Guinevere's hands immediately reached for the lapels of her jacket. A blush spread furiously across her features as she let out a jilted breath. "No, thank you, Lucius," she replied quickly. "I find the manor to be too cold to go without a jacket." He looked at her puzzled and withdrew his wand. Guinevere berated herself for the sharp intake of breath she had exhibited in front of him. Lucius was extremely good at reading body language, and she was sure by now that he had noticed the fear in her eyes as he held his wand before her.

"That's nothing that a warming charm can't fix. Hmm, Guinevere?" As he cast the charm, Guinevere pondered the way he said her name. Slowly and with precision, as if he was being tested by each syllable. There was something oddly charming about it. It sounded more elegant when it came from his lips. A rush of heat flooded her body as she found herself bringing her hand to her brow. She could feel a bead of sweat dripping from the nape of her neck and she moved her curled hair with care to avoid it sticking to her. Lucius held out his arms, expecting her to place the jacket there so that he could vanish it to the coatroom.

Guinevere was out of options and he was persistent. She knew Draco wouldn't be home anytime soon, so she would have to address the elephant in the room. She locked eyes with him and took a deep breath. "I can't take off my coat." He looked intrigued, provoked almost.

"And, why is that Guinevere?" he rebutted.

"Because..." She hesitated. "Because, Lucius, I don't have anything on under it."