Waiting | Lucius Malfoy

Chapter Three | Yours, Draco Malfoy

Guinevere made every effort to ignore the flurry of owls that bombarded her over the next week. Each one held a scroll embossed with the Malfoy crest and ended with Yours, Draco Malfoy. Each was written with a different emotion; confusion, anger, rage, lust, hurt. She threw every letter into the fire and although her hands itched with the need to send him a reply, she stopped herself. She was angry with Draco, the angriest she had been in a while and it was a long time coming.

It wasn't just the incident with his father. His lack of care over how much it had embarrassed her or him urging her to have sex with him when she wasn't in the mood. No. It was a culmination of hundreds of little things that had collided together and left her furious over her week alone.

Guinevere had spent much of her relationship waiting for Draco. Waiting for him to get over the fact that he was seeing a Gryffindor. Waiting for him to tell her that he loved her. Waiting for him to introduce her to his mother and father. Waiting for him as he worked late nights and left her alone with no indication of when he would return. She was bored of waiting. It was decided, she would end it. The sex was good, yes, but lust wasn't enough to keep their relationship viable. She couldn't spend her life waiting for what he was going to do next. It was time to put herself first again.

It was the following Monday when she received an owl she didn't recognise. Again, it brought a scroll marked with the Malfoy crest, but it wasn't Draco's scratched handwriting that had written her name. Guinevere couldn't bear to look at it. If it was from Narcissa, she wouldn't be able to bring herself to read it. Narcissa's son was her world and if he had given her even an inkling of their relationship troubles again, she was sure that it would be an invitation to lunch in Paris or warning of a visit to shower her with gifts in lieu of Draco's affection.

She threw it into the fire, determined to feign ignorance if Narcissa ever mentioned it. By the time she and Draco were finished, Narcissa would probably be so upset that she wouldn't contact her out of fear. Fear that once again, Draco had hurt Guinevere beyond repair and that her perfect son wasn't so perfect. The thought had plagued her time and time again, as they fought and ultimately made up. This time would be different.

The fire fizzled more than the previous letters and she found herself squinting at the flame as it glowed an emerald green. A loud bang caused her to hit the floor in a panic, and Guinevere found the letter in front of her again, unscathed by the fire. Odd, but then again, Narcissa might have predicted her plan of burning the letter and charmed it to be indestructible. The woman was practically a seer. She threw it in once again to test her theory, only to have the whole farce repeated. The letter lay urging her to open it. Guinevere obliged.

Dearest Guinevere,

I would appreciate it if you would put my son out of his misery one way or another. His constant pacing is driving me to insanity. Countless years of working for the Dark Lord should have prepared me for such juvenile behaviour, but I find myself at my wit's end. He shall be home from the Ministry tonight at 6 pm if you'd like to make your way to the Manor. I'll ensure that the house-elves have a stiff drink waiting on you.

P.S, please ensure that you are appropriately dressed under your coat.

Regards,

L

The last sentence had caused her to fall back into her seat. Her vision was blurry and she felt her mouth grow dry. He was teasing her. Lucius Malfoy, former death eater and Voldemort sympathiser, was teasing her. She scoffed as she pulled out her quill and began working on her reply.

Lucius,

I'm not going to apologise for causing your son's behaviour. It's time that he felt a fraction of the pain he has caused me over the years. I'll meet him at the Manor this evening, under the condition that you join us for our conversation. I'm fearful that I may attempt to hex him into oblivion if he tries to reconcile with me. A witness would be gratefully appreciated.

P.S He doesn't deserve to see what's under my coat now so I'll be appropriately dressed.

Guinevere.

She didn't know what possessed her to write the final sentence, but it felt justified after the snarky end to his letter. It was rare to catch Lucius in a good mood, so she decided to capitalise on it, hoping it would continue until their meeting. After staring at it for several minutes, Guinevere attached it to the foot of her owl and whispered, 'Lucius Malfoy' before gently brushing Tia's feathers with her pinky. Tia looked up at Guinevere, as knowingly as an owl could and shook herself off, before taking off into the sky.

Now, all that came was the question of what to wear. As conceited as it was, Guinevere always made sure to dress her best when she was at the Manor. No one asked it of her, least of all Draco, but it made her feel less out of place. Guinevere's beginnings had been far humbler than that of the Malfoys and she was from a bloodline that was a lot less pure. She didn't have 'old money'. Although, as an assistant to Kingsley, who was the current Minister of Magic, she now was able to afford a more lavish lifestyle.

Her clothes were certainly nicer and she was living it up in a modest, but modern two-bedroom flat in Muggle London. It didn't stop Guinevere from forgetting about her parent's house, however, which had been destroyed when they had died during the First Wizarding War. Astute campaigners against blood purity, they quickly found themselves under the microscope when it came to Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Sympathisers were just as dangerous as the muggle-borns themselves. While spending time in her flat, she found herself dreaming of a life where they'd visit, expressing how proud they were of everything she had achieved. She often spent time at the Manor instead to attempt to escape her own miserable company.

She brushed a stray tear from her eyes and opened the wardrobe, looking anxiously at the array of outfit choices. If she wasn't so angry at Draco, Guinevere would have been asking him what to wear. He always knew what she was looking for, even when she couldn't make up her mind. Guinevere noted that in her mental "pro's" column. So far, it was the only item on the list. Eventually, she came across a pair of black tailored trousers with a matching black blazer. She attached her mother's silver brooch to the lapel and shrugged on her outer robes. It would do nicely. It was elegant and professional.

She felt it was appropriate for the negotiations that would undoubtedly occur in the evening. Draco and Guinevere had some shared assets, all of which had been bought with earnings from the Malfoy family vault. However, as she had spent the majority of her free time tending to these assets, she felt it was only right that she fought to keep some of them. They may not have been married, but she knew Lucius well enough to know that he would want to make sure everything was in order before Draco and Guinevere went their separate ways. He was accustomed to the tradition of buying people's silence.

It was 4 pm, leaving her with just enough time to apply a little makeup and sort out her hair. She had experimented with some dying spells a few weeks ago and her hair was only just recovering. She had taken the plunge and charmed her hair ginger, a stark contrast from its usual blonde. Draco had remarked that if he'd wanted to shag a Weasley, he would have just asked out Ginny. That had touched a nerve and they'd not spoken to each other for the rest of the night. She spent most of the week after attempting to restore it to normal.

Eyeliner and nude lipstick applied, Guinevere quickly fumbled with her wand as she performed a braiding spell on her matted locks. She didn't have time to smooth or dry them, so it seemed like the obvious choice. It was just a coincidence that it was Draco's favourite hairstyle. She wasn't sure if Lucius would have had dinner prepared, so she ate some leftover Chinese food with a sense of urgency, glancing at her watch every two minutes. Then, it was time.

As she apparated to the Manor, Guinevere reminded herself why she was going there. She and Draco were finished. Done. This would be the last time Guinevere would attend Malfoy Manor and she couldn't be more pleased.