AFTER DARK- Lucius Malfoy x Reader

Lucius POV

Hi guys!! This is a special short chapter. I've been racking my brain over writing the next chapter—editing and reediting... and then reediting some more haha.
It's funny because there are chapters farther in the story that are written and ready but I'm just having writers... perfectionism ?

I wanted to give you guys something though and had this part written—thought I might as well publish it:)

Lucius POV

Y/N's brows furrowed at me as she glanced at me for a moment. Then she walked back into her room. She'd been silent—hadn't said a word after all I said to her.

The door clicked shut behind her and I let myself loosen a breath.

I walked back to my own room, closing the door behind me. I went to my desk, placing my cane on it then opened the standing globe next to it, pulling out a bottle of bourbon and a glass.

I poured myself one, downed it right there, then poured myself another. I took my drink to the chair, sitting back in exhaustion and rubbed my eyes.

I hated when she cried. When the tears turned her eyes red.

The sound. That was its own misery.

Even after she stopped, the evidence of it lingered. Her cheeks stained and wet.

But I wasn't sure which was worse— watching her loose motivation to fight even me or watching her in deep, unrestrained pain.

I'd rather her hate me than either. Rather she use all her energy on trying to grab my cane when she thinks I'm not paying attention or just yelling the most foul things at me. 

Most of the time when she looked at me it was with pure hatred.

Usually I was immune to it from others—affiliations with the death eaters and all. It came with the territory.

But when she said such bold and venomous things to me... it burrowed into my skin. No amount of itching could get rid of it. 

And still, whenever she was near I scanned her features—her brows, the tip of her nose, the flush of her cheeks, the parts of her body where skin was exposed. 

It was instinctual really, checking to see if her clever mind had found a new way to maim herself.

Her neck.

The line where she'd pressed the knife was beginning to fade. I would have offered to heal it but I already knew what her answer would be.

When I'd been healing her hands I'd been terrified. I'd stayed awake those first nights just to watch her breath. Make sure she still was. Watch the rise and fall of her chest.

Her hands...the burns were horrific.

I'd been a complete idiot to think the little fool wouldn't try to open the gate. She'd gone through that cursed door at my manor—twice. An enchantment that squeezed your insides, a pain that was supposed to be unbearable. I couldn't believe she was still standing afterwards. Doing something like that, going through that pain...you had to be desperate.

Then her screams from the gates—I could still hear them for days afterwards. I'd close my eyes and count my breaths when I remembered.

That sound would haunt me.

I brought the cold glass to my lips, drinking deeply to swallow the memory.

I would've let her go if I knew she would stop her suicide mission. Have some sense to go into hiding properly.

But she would never stop...it wasn't in her nature to.

And that would get her killed.

Her face was expressive in ways she probably wasn't aware. Her eyes said too much—revealed too much. The hate, the pain, the anger. It flashed across her expression, and then she'd attempt to hide it. But it was never quick enough and then her body language gave too much away. A swallow, the fiddling of her fingers, the turn of her head.

If we weren't in the middle of a war, I'd think it endearing.

But as it stood, it meant she was easy to read to the trained eye.

I'd learned to hide those subtleties myself—even though it was more difficult to do with her. 

I loosened the color of my shirt.

What was her mother thinking. Had she been too self righteous to see it all clearly?

I remembered her mother—she'd had kind eyes and a glow of warmth. Y/N's father on the other hand— It had been an arranged marriage, not one of love, as they usually were among pure bloods.

Yes, Y/N's father was cold and strict, but even then I'd never have thought him capable of murdering his own wife.

I guess you never truly know anyone.

And men were the worst monsters.

And still her mother had left her behind with him. What she'd endured...

I clutched the glass in my hand, exhaling.

I'd have to admit Y/N was right in some ways.

I didn't fully blame her mother—but I couldn't overlook her carelessness. It was a complicated feeling.

Y/N's father on the other hand—I'd never let him near her again.

Locking her up here was the single best decision I'd ever made. A least I could relax a little with everything else happening. At least she wasn't gallivanting around the wizarding world playing hero as it fell apart.

I knew she'd loathed me for doing it. Unfortunately it was either let her run wild and get killed or have her hate me for the rest of her days—but at least then she'd be alive.

I drank the last of the liquid, placing the glass down beside me.

Her temper—her rashness—her stubbornness.

She terrified me. Exhausted me.

But I guess it was what I deserved after all.