∞ 25 ∞
Lucius stood in front of one of the large soft-grey, panelled doors of the rooms in the house. He knocked gently and waited. Hearing no answer, he entered tentatively. A pale, woman with platinum-white hair sat quietly on a carved, 18th century style couch gilded in platinum and upholstered in pale blue, silver embroidered fabric. She wore a sort of Victorian looking, lavender-grey dress with a lot of frothy lace around the neckline and sleeves. The couch was near the window and she sat turned away from him looking out of it. The room was spotlessly clean and beautifully decorated with the same chalky, pastel walls, abundant mirrors, crystal, chubby cushions and carved, pale, painted furniture of the dining room – except the tones were much cooler. There was a large, carved poster bed painted in dove grey, made up with a voluminous duvet and pillows dressed in fine, white, embroidered linen. Softened, daylight hazily passed through the old, hand-blown panes of the tall windows and the sheer, white curtains, giving the place an eerily timeless, filmic quality. The air smelled faintly of tea roses and sandalwood polish.
"Mamá, I – hope you did not hear the shouting. I must apologise if you did."
The woman turned to look at him as he spoke. She had a placid look on her face and there was an ethereal, floaty quality in her manner and the way she moved. Her smooth, frosty hair was up in a sort of bouffant style, similar to the way Auntie kept hers. She was exceptionally well groomed and with her dress and serene manner, looked as though she were from another time, far away. Although she looked to be in her late sixties, her face still carried the beauty she must have had as a much younger woman. (She was in fact 84.) She smiled pleasantly to acknowledge Lucius, but it was unclear whether she had heard the shouting or not. Her grey eyes were strikingly pale like Lucius's, but they were empty; she was looking at him, but she seemed not to really notice him.
"...It was those two old... 'aunts'. You know how I cannot bear them. They and Draco--. They have been driving me to distraction – as usual... Is there anything I can get you? Shall I sit with you for a while?" he offered awkwardly, somewhat hopeful. "I could read to you. I was going through some of your books when I was at the Manor. I know you are fond of Aristophanes. I have a few of his works here."
Lucius was searching the Magically charmed, Undetectable Extension of his inner breast pocket and after pulling out a few things that seemed to come out of thin air (since there appeared to be nothing in the flat pocket at all) finally pulled out a small, antique looking book. He read the title: "Lysistrata," he said and forced a pleasant, airy smile.
Lucius's artificially tranquil countenance remained unaffected by the rejection. He produced a polite smile, bowed (not quite as low as he had with Auntie) and retreated, closing the door softly as he left.
chapter music selection: "PIANO CONCERTO no21 ANDANTE" - MOZART
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A Semi-Autobiographical Story About Belonging, True Kinship & Real Love... A different sort of Lucius Malfoy: eccentric, Swedish billionaire, Lucian Isholmborg (the ex Lord Malfoy) is handsome, elegant and famous. So why does he want to kill himsel...