Vacillation and Volition, Prologue Part One
Title: Vacillation and Volition
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Lucius Malfoy, Grace Malory (OC), various others
Rating/Warnings: PG-13/References to Sexual Situations
Word Count: 3,027
Summary: Being the illegitimate son of a particularly noticeable wizard, Lucas Malory has spent all of his life practicing the art of inconspicuousness. But when the brutal waves of war break upon the world, every man must make a stand for what he believes in. Lucas, determined to keep his distance and only mind his own business, suddenly finds his options banging impatiently on the door. When indifference is no longer an option, how will he decide where his loyalties lie?
Author's Note: This story was plotted out before the release of the 7th book, but as I continue writing after having read it, chapters may be inspired by/include spoilers from Deathly Hallows.
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New Year’s Eve of 1973
A young man was standing half-way up an impressive staircase, looking down on the sea of people mingling below. A satisfied smile played on his lips, and he was dressed in robes of the finest cut and quality, by the best wizard tailors. Seemingly casual, he placed a hand on the cool marble banister, but did not relax his composed figure for a single second.
He was Lucius Malfoy, and the successful ball below was all his doing. He knew his father would be pleased, actually pleased for once, about this achievement. Every person considered rich, famous or important had accepted their invitations; it was an evening for making acquaintances and, in time, gold.
As he browsed the crowds, he remembered something better yet: that dressed in red and dancing in the ball room was his new fiancée, showing off her qualities to less privileged men. His smile broadened upon the thought. Yes, it was a match well made and all parts were pleased. Upon closer inspection of their respective bloodlines, it was clearly meant to be. Pure, both of them, wealthy and with the right view of the wizarding world. And it didn’t hurt that the youngest of the Black sister was by far the fairest to look at, either. Lucius’ father had even eyed the young bride-to-be with appreciation when she arrived with the rest of her family. His mother had not shown any emotions, but he thought the lack of displeased frowns when she had inspected Narcissa Black had to be a good sign. It would be good if the two women could get along, seeing as they would be living at the same manor soon enough. Also, Narcissa would become the lady of the house one day, and who was better to teach her than the brilliant Lydia Malfoy, who in spite of her age was unquestionably the most beautiful woman of the evening.
Lucius was distracted from his musings when a heavy hand was placed on his shoulder. He turned his head slightly to the right and looked up at his father who was standing one step above him. The blond hair had turned white long ago and lines had spread in the noble face, but Abraxas Malfoy was still a man to do Lydia justice. Radiating power and wealth, he now surveyed his son with a rare look of approval.
“People are enjoying themselves, it seems,” Malfoy senior spoke in his deep voice.
“I believe this ball will be remembered, father,” nodded Lucius.
But Abraxas wasn’t listening. Lucius followed his father’s gaze and saw how it rested, possessively, on his mother. Politely conversing with the Minister of Magic and his plump wife, Lydia was simply glowing in the crowds. Lucius knew his father was still jealously guarding her from other men, a fact that never ceased to surprise him. He had no understanding whatsoever for such feelings. To Lucius, marriage was an act of necessity, to produce children to be new links in the chain of pure-bloods. He could understand that a man would wish for his wife to be faithful, but only because of the damage a scandal could do to a respected family name. Love was a word unknown to him, and one he had no interest in adding to his vocabulary.
Both Malfoys watched as a certain Orion Black, tall and threateningly handsome, joined in the conversation below. Abraxas’ hand on Lucius’ shoulder immediately stiffened, before he quickly withdrew it.
“I will be going downstairs,” he grumbled.
Lucius followed in his tracks, enjoying the childish pleasure of standing taller than his father on the stairs, and taking great care to walk in a manner appropriate to the greater wizard. But before he or his father had reached the last step, the arrival of more visitors was announced by the piercing ring of a bell. They quickly sought each other’s eyes again.
“A little late to join the festivities, isn’t it?” the older man noted.
“I believe everyone worth welcoming has arrived already,” Lucius admitted, “but we cannot leave whoever it is standing outside, I guess.”
“Very well. Dobby!” Abraxas shouted at a house-elf who was unfortunate enough to be passing by. “Let the new guests in, did you not hear the bell?”
“Certainly, sir,” squeaked the little creature. He snapped his fingers, and the mahogany doors opened in dramatic slow motion. Three people entered, and even if they were late, or perhaps not even on the invitation’s list, it did not matter. Wealth and influence shone as accessories from the man and two women, now handing their snow-sprinkled coats to the house-elf. The man, who was of a very considerable size, had an extraordinary aura about him, and was the kind of person Abraxas would almost allow to show interest in his precious wife. The shorter woman, beaten in beauty only by the other who looked to be their daughter, gracefully placed her hand on the man’s arm.
“Who are they?” Lucius hissed, but Abraxas has already stepped forth, hand reached out. Lucius moved closer as well, but only to listen.
“Maximilan Malory, how splendid! We were not expecting the pleasure!” boomed the host.
“Abraxas, my good man,” replied the one called Maximilan. “We’re terribly sorry for running so late. I don’t know if you’ve met my wife, Estelle? Or our daughter, Grace?”
“Pleasure, pleasure,” Abraxas beamed at the two women.
Lucius felt a familiar presence at his side and was instantly soothed by it. “Who are they, mother?” he whispered.
“The Malorys. The wife is French, half-Veela,” his mother spoke close to his right ear.
“Half-bloods!?” Lucius was barely able to keep his voice down.
“Now, now, my son,” Lydia smiled pleasantly to calm him further. “You must know that certain people in that category are more tolerable than others. Half-Veelas especially. As for the Malorys, it wouldn’t matter if they were part troll, with the number of stuffed vaults they’re sitting on.”
Lucius gave his mother a grateful look before they turned to the new guests. She had always had a way of explaining things to him.
“…and my son, Lucius, the brain behind this ball,” bragged Abraxas after he had finished introducing Lydia.
At first, Lucius thought there was nothing special about this meeting, that it was just another formal introduction in an evening full of them. But after greeting the parents, he instantly knew he would never forget the person looking so superiorly at him. Lydia had of course been right in accepting the half-Veelas.
“Mr Malfoy,” the daughter acknowledged him.
“Miss Malory.” He suddenly found himself struggling to keep up his posture.
Lydia, reading her son as easily as an open Potions book, smirked knowingly. “Lucius dear, why don’t you give Miss Grace a tour of the house?”
“Of course,” he said, trying not to make a complete fool of himself, and offered his arm to the woman. She gave him one long look, during which Lucius felt it would have been wiser to give his wand arm to an Acromantula, before she finally accepted his gesture. While wordlessly cursing his sudden inability to converse, Lucius tried to recall what he knew about Veelas. Fierce, he thought, fierce and proud. Easily offended and… bird-like? Feeling slightly uncomfortable, he glanced at Miss Malory’s hand. But there was nothing claw-like whatsoever about it; on the contrary it looked smooth. Delicate, but strong. He was struck by the feeling that she was in fact guiding him, and did not quite agree with the idea.
Too soon for Lucius liking, the elders spread out and he was left with Grace Malory in his care. He did not want to speak in fear of being blunt, but he knew he had to unless he wanted to seem like a witless simpleton. He turned towards the magnificent woman, preparing to untwist his tongue. But as he took in the sight of her, hair aglow with reflections from chandelier light and figure subtly framed by green draperies, he felt words travelling over his lips with surprising easiness.
“What would you like, Miss Malory? Refreshments? To dance?”
She gave him another prolonged look, inspecting every inch of him. He figured she could not have been too displeased, because she chose to answer. “Neither, thank you. I would like to look around but only a little, and talk even less.”
It was a simple wish to grant her, so Lucius led the way around the crowds, not engaging in any conversations. He carefully avoided the ballroom, not knowing yet if Narcissa Black shared his opinion on relationships, or if she was inclined to agree with his father. The rooms were buzzing with chatting and occasional spells, and sparkles from multiple Glamour charms twinkled in the intoxicating air. After passing a big party of Wizengamot members, Lucius and the lady by his side came to a halt in one of the sitting rooms. Miss Malory accepted the leather armchair he offered and took great care to organise the many folds of her black dress before sitting down. Sitting down in a matching chair on the opposite side of a small table, Lucius found that he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He saw her hesitate for a moment, and then she spoke.
“You’ve got quite a successful party here, Mr Malfoy.”
He waved his hand to indicate his disinterest.
“Not enjoying yourself?” she enquired, shadow of a smile passing over her face.
“I’ve already met with the people I wanted to speak to,” he shrugged. “I tend to think that the rest is for women’s amusement.”
She looked amused by this remark, and Lucius took the opportunity to venture a little deeper into her grey gazes. Grace Malory was obviously aware of him doing so, but that did not stop him.
“Malory. Your name is very like my own, Malfoy,” he said, merely to distract himself from the depths of her soul, glimpses of it visible through the eyes.
“Bad luck and bad faith, yes.” She contemplated the fact before moving on to browsing the room. Lucius found himself enjoying her profile. “I’m getting too old for events like this,” she sighed as she turned back to him. “Always the same faces, nothing ever new.”
“Old?” Lucius had to smile.
“I might not look it, Mr Malfoy, but if you’re so inclined to know, my thirtieth birthday is coming up shortly.”
“I’m not sure I can believe that,” he said, eyebrows slightly raised. In his bewitched eyes, she did not look a day older than himself.
“I can see that you’re simply being truthful, but I shall still take that as a compliment,” she said and bent her head forwards in a grateful nod, causing the loose silvery hair to flood over her shoulders. “I could accept a drink now,” she added as she looked up.
“White wine?” he offered.
“Please.”
Another house-elf appeared with two goblets before he had even made the request. Not looking at the servant, Lucius handed the lady one of them. She thanked him not with words, but with the sight of her lips touching the silver. If he was openly staring, he did no longer know or care. Her mouth lingered next to the goblet for a moment, and then she smiled knowingly.
“Do you happen to be married, Mr Malfoy?” The question was straightforward and she was expecting an answer.
Lucius cleared his throat. “Engaged to be.”
“I see. What a pity.” She took another sip of wine and closed her eyes.
Lucius felt as if a dazzling light had suddenly been extinguished. What was her remark supposed to mean? And what was he beginning to feel, exactly? The possibility that this witch, this part-Veela, might be using some power over him was suddenly frightening. Perhaps it was the combination of this fear and being released from the enchantment of her eyes for a moment that let the unfortunate line slip from his mouth.
“Why is that? Are you in pursuit of a husband?”
She opened her eyes, and he did not know a curse foul enough to mentally punish himself.
“A husband? I can’t think of a single thing I care for less than marriage.” To his great relief, she still looked more amused than anything else. “Oh no,” she continued, “a woman of my fortune and connections needn’t bother with husbands. On my own I am whomever I choose to be, while as some man’s wife I would never reach further than he did. Even if he would become the very Minister of Magic I would still have to hover in his shadow. So no thank you, Mr Malfoy, I prefer to remain a free woman, owned by no one.”
Her words had appealed to the logic he lived by himself, but instead of reflecting that she was a sensible woman Lucius was overtaken by the strangest emotions. He had never wanted to own another person before, no, he had always thought obedience and submission more important than mere ownership, but now he was filled with an all-consuming desire to possess the woman in front of him. He felt a flame ignite in his chest, and hot, unexpected lust began to spread through his limbs. The necessity of keeping up a façade of dignity and superiority rapidly faded, and a completely different set of thoughts wound their way into Lucius’ mind.
“Miss Malory, are you quite sure you would not like to dance?” he dared to inquire.
Her look was shrewd, enticing. “I suppose I could change my mind if you really wanted me to.”
“I do.”
Goblets forgotten, they rose and joined arms again. Quite convinced he was not imagining it, Lucius thought she was walking a bit closer to him on the way back to the ballroom, and that her movements were more relaxed. He did not bother to scan the open area for his fiancée, but let his hands find their destinations on his partner’s body. The black velvet was soft against his right palm, and he drew a deep breath of contentment when she entwined her fingers with his. He was close enough to pick up her scent now; it was a faint notion of linden flowers, as if from a summer meadow at midnight. He felt oddly elevated as he swept her away to the formal tones.
He was allowed to enjoy a couple of minutes of undisturbed, close proximity before she spoke. “You’re an excellent dancer, Mr Malfoy.”
“It was my mother who taught me.”
“But of course. She seems to be a fascinating lady.”
“That she is. And quite cunning too.”
“I sense a kinswoman in her,” Grace Malory smiled.
Without further warning she leaned in closer, and moved two gentle fingertips up along his spine. His chest now touched hers, and her whole figure seemed to invite him. It was only with the outmost strength of will that he kept his self-control and continued to dance. If he had still been master of his thoughts he would have questioned her intentions, but his young body knew no such uncertainties. Seduction was a strange art to him, one he had never bothered to study among his seniors, but now he felt the first understanding of it. He let his hand move circle her waist, and when the music ended it was she who had to lead the way off the dance floor. They drew back into a corner, his fingers not letting go of her for a second. She did not object, but put a firm hand under his cheek and lifted his gaze up to meet her own.
“Mr Malfoy.” She demanded his attention in a low voice that made him tremble. “Are you planning on escorting me to somewhere more private? Or are we to risk a scandal behind one of your draperies?”
He paused his exploration of her dress and curves. “Pardon?”
She raised an eyebrow, making her eyes twinkle. “I thought we had an understanding? Enjoyable as this is, I should very much like to proceed.”
“What are you -” he left the sentence hanging in the feverish air between them.
He was surprised when an impish smile appeared on her face. She stroked his cheek tenderly. “Mr Malfoy… are you a virgin?”
Slightly startled at the direct question, he almost snapped at her. “Would it be a problem if I were?”
Her smile broadened into a grin. “Oh, certainly not. On the contrary…” After a quick glance around to be sure no one was watching, she brought his face down and tasted his lips. Feeling how the last trace of sense left him as pure thrill took over, he made to pull her closer. But she drew back, eyebrows raised expectantly.
“Oona!” Lucius hissed.
A female house-elf appeared, her little hands wet and covered in foam as if she had been cleaning dishes. She bowed.
“Escort this lady to my wing. Discreetly.”
“Certainly,” she yelped. “Follow Oona this way, miss.”
With a flash of eyes on fire and a sweeping motion of black velvet, she was gone. He stared at the empty space, dumbfounded, for a couple of seconds. Trying to shake some clarity into his mind but failing stupendously, he headed in the opposite direction, through the crowds. Too focused on his upstairs goal he ignored everything and everyone around him; the glance from a woman in red, ministers and wealthy relatives. He rushed blindly forward until a hand caught hold of his sleeve and made him spin around.
“And where are you heading in such a hurry?”
He did not answer, but looked towards the hall. Tightening her grip on his wrist, Lydia Malfoy shook her head. “No, my son. I thought I had raised you not to be a fool? Find a better way through the back rooms!”
He almost forgot his urgency and stopped to closely examine her face. “Mother?”
“Go, Lucius. And don’t let your father see you.”
She disappeared before he could ask any questions, and with his whole body burning from untamed desire, he hurried to follow her advice.
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