∞ 70 ∞
FAIRY TALES & ALL ABOUT "THE GIRL"
Lucius sat on the bed bent over Valentina staring closely at the little golden teaspoon he held close to her nose. She was asleep from the potions Raj had given her. She looked very peaceful, but he was still worried. He checked her every half an hour to be sure she was still alive. (Still in shock over the ordeal and not being very accustomed to the biology of Muggles, each time he would check that he could feel her pulse and that warm air was regularly coming from her nostrils for at least 30 seconds – just to be absolutely sure). Each time he would linger for just a little longer and breathed in the scent of her, which he curiously found exceptionally pleasing.
Valentina awoke in her own bed. She had been asleep for the most part of four days. She had had a lovely dream about the beautiful, pale haired man. It had been a long and vivid dream, but she didn't remember much: just that she was there with him in some lovely, warm place. And everything was beautiful and elegant and she had felt completely safe and happy and wonderful (but normal). As she gained consciousness, she remembered a flicker of him putting her down into her own bed... and that... before letting her go, he had kissed her forehead and temple and lingered there for a little while. She knew it was just a dream, but it was so perfect (so right) she wanted to hold on to it for as long as she could and stayed there in bed replaying the dream in her mind, so that she wouldn't forget the feeling of it.
The last traces of the wonderful dream quickly dispersed, as her real surroundings came back into focus with a thud. She was back in the barren, little bedroom, far away from the sublime fantasy. Her body felt awful. She rose and took a few wobbly steps to the mirror above the dresser. She realised immediately that SOMETHING had definitely happened when she saw the huge bandage on her neck and the nearly healed bruises and scabs she had all over! She was further surprised to find she was dressed in an old-fashioned, nightdress that was not her own. And there was also a note on thick, white parchment written in aquamarine ink! (It smelled musky and leathery and woody – like him!) It said all was well, but that she needed to rest and that it was extremely important that she did not take the bandage around her neck off for another two days.
She was mortified when she realised he had actually been there. The house was absolutely filthy!! Regardless of whatever had happened to her physically, she once again felt like she would die of embarrassment – only worse this time, because it was HIM. For a moment her panic was interrupted, wondering how he had gotten her up the ladder . A very faint rustling sound roused her from her anxieties and she looked around, wondering if it was just the wind against the shutters. Realising it was her butterfly rustling its wings, she shakily went down the ladder –now nailed in place– to get some syrupy water for it.
Downstairs she found more surprises: The kitchen was spotless! There was food in the cupboards, a warm, strawberry pie on the table and a small fire in the fireplace with the kettle above it just beginning to boil!
Speechless, she covered her mouth and then let out a girly giggle, which morphed halfway into a snort, causing her to swallow the wrong way and choke a little. She closed her eyes tightly and then quickly opened them wide. She closed her eyes again and spun around once, losing her balance and almost falling over. (She had a vague recollection that that's what the princesses did to break spells in the fairy tales Mimi used to read her, which was a stupid thing to do really, considering that –if it was a spell– the last thing she wanted to do was break out of it.)
YOU ARE READING
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...