Malfoy Manners – Claudia Bakker

Written for Mugglenet Interactive and published on that website on November 07 2007. Edited to correct grammar in 2019.

He had been sitting there for nearly two hours now, staring into the void, oblivious to the people surrounding him in the always busy Leicester Square park. He had so much to think about, to consider, yet nothing came to him. His mind was empty and truth be told – he liked it that way. The past few years had been the hardest of his life, and now it was time for a change. The thing was, he had no idea what kind of change.

Suddenly he noticed a girl standing in front of him, holding two cups of coffee. He looked at her with an arrogant expression, one that usually sent nosy Muggles away. But this girl smiled at him and offered him one of the cups.

“I thought you looked like you could use some,” she said, forcing it into his hand. She awaited no invitation and sat down next to him, sipping her own coffee. She looked at him curiously and started babbling away. “I skipped work today, because I thought there might be something more important for me to do than clear out boxes. I’m glad I did, because you need me.” He closed his eyes, and growled at her. “Go away.” He opened his eyes again, hoping against better judgment that he had made her leave. Instead, he looked into two of the brightest brown eyes he’d ever seen.

“It’s easier to open up to a stranger,” she told him. “Strangers don’t judge.” He sent her a sarcastic look, for he knew better. Everyone judged, especially strangers! He’d had enough of this invasion on his privacy and grabbed his cane, planning to leave. Her hand covered his, and when his eyes flashed up, the cold suggestion he had planned to give her, died on his lips.

She punished him with a radiant smile and offered him her free hand. “I’m Wendy.” He felt obliged to accept it as he mumbled his last name. “Malfoy?” she smiled. “I was hoping you would have a first name as well.”

He gave in. He was mentally too tired to put up a fight any longer. His eyes shifted and he stared at the doves aggressively picking in the grass for something he couldn’t see. He told her what she wanted to hear.

“Lucius.”

She sat quietly beside him long enough to make him curious as to why. They studied each other simultaneously; her amused eyes glancing over her cup of coffee. “Hello Lucius…” she said in a soft tone that made him aware of a sensation in his stomach that he hadn’t experienced for a long time. He quickly put his focus back on the doves.

“Now that we are acquainted, you might feel more comfortable telling me why you’ve been sitting here for at least an hour, looking miserable?” He gave her a surprised look. She smiled at him and pointed at the opposite side of the little park. “I sat there and you caught my eye.” Lucius nodded. Maybe this Muggle girl was right. It could be a relief; maybe it would lift some of this heavy weight off his shoulders. He acquiesced to her kind pressure.

“If you must know, I have just filed for my divorce.” He waited for a change inside of him. Lament, torment, or even a slight tingling sensation in his stomach. He’d give anything for the sensation of feeling more than the numbness that had been part of his existence for so long now – yet he felt nothing. This conclusion disappointed him more than he had counted upon.

The girl, Wendy, put her hand on his again. Her voice sounded warm and compassionate.

“You still love her.” He quickly pulled his hand away. “We grew apart.” He felt her compassionate eyes burning on him, it made him feel uncomfortable, yet he no longer wanted her to leave. He refused to wonder why, and continued to talk to her, setting his mind off this troubling question.

“It wasn’t the same after the war. People looked at us differently. They didn’t respect us like they used to.” The dove of his focus flew away. “We lost a lot. I think she never forgave me.”

“You don’t strike me as a man who makes rash decisions. Whatever happened, she must have been fully aware of the consequences and no less responsible than you were.” Her reply surprised him. He gave her a curious look. “Perhaps,” His tone was cautious. “Nevertheless, my actions endangered my family and this is something I do not forgive myself for.”

He did not avert his eyes and she searched his with a penetrating urgency, looking for answers on questions she dared not ask. She hesitated; he saw insecurity in her eyes. She had stumbled on his coldness, maybe even his killer instinct and he instinctively knew she had second thoughts about the man she was trying to befriend. Every other day he would have shrugged, and let it all go. But today he didn’t feel capable of facing the rejection. He was disgusted with the pathetic plea in his voice but he saw no other way to convince her to stay.

“Yes, I have done wrong. Very wrong. But I’ve learned from my mistakes. Paid for them. Twice.” He looked away. “Azkaban is no joy for any man.”

“Azkanban?” she asked. “Is that where you went to war?” He stirred. For a moment he had forgotten he was talking to a Muggle. Someone beneath him. Someone who knew nothing about the world he lived in. How could he have fallen so deeply into this endless pit of misery, that he opened up to a Muggle! He got up swiftly with the intention to leave her behind.

She followed him though as if he had invited her. How could he get rid of the girl, Wendy, without drawing attention to himself? There had been a time when he could have gotten away with a Confundus Charm, but those days were long gone. Even if he’d be able to pull one off, the Ministry would catch up with him before he’d reached the end of the street. He took up with a faster pace, trying to avoid contact with the constant stream of people walking towards him. He crossed the street and he noticed that she was still following him, without uttering a word.

He rushed down a staircase leading to an Underground station. He had never set foot in any other than King’s Cross but it couldn’t be difficult to find his way, he imagined. And he would definitely lose that persistent Muggle girl in the crowd. Why he had allowed himself to share his thoughts with her was beyond him; now, he had to put up with the impertinent consequences his negligent behaviour had brought upon him. He walked towards the ports and entered them with more confidence than he possessed. The doors didn’t open. Frustrated, he took a step back and tried again.

“You need a ticket. Use mine.” She was standing right behind him. He was trapped. With difficulty, he turned around to face her, in the tight space available. She looked at him with a smile on her common face. “Not used to public transport, are you?”

He took a step towards her and to his wicked pleasure, she backed away. Impatient Muggles, trying to pass through, were forming a line behind her. An evil glare was enough to make them change ports.

He didn’t understand why she didn’t just leave him alone. What did she want from him! “My life is none of your concern, miss,” he stated with all the arrogance he was able to gather. “You would be wise to leave me alone.”

She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Is that a threat? As in, if I’m not leaving you by yourself to wallow, you might beat me with your cane?” She pointed at the extension of his virility, seemingly confident, but he noticed her nervously plucking the side of her shirt. He wore a dangerous smile as he moved his face close to hers. Her pupils widened as she stared back into his pool of perdition. “Go!” he whispered. She swallowed and hesitation flickered in her eyes, but she did not move. He was still trapped in the limited sized port and this irked him beyond belief. A rush of suppressed anger flooded his senses, and he yelled at her.

“I hate you! I hate you Muggles! With all your Muggle things and your ignorant Muggle lives! Now let me out!” He had lifted his cane, which sparked a plethora of colours, vigorously channeling his anger.

Guards were speeding into their direction, one of which was talking through a little black box. They looked as if they meant business. Wendy took his hand and ran towards the exit. Having no desire to get into trouble with Muggle authorities, he let her lead him outside. They ran up the stairs and turned right, towards the Ministry. He knew they weren’t followed any longer, but they kept running still. It felt good to run, it cleared his mind from all thoughts. The adrenaline made him forget about the crappy life he had been living. They ran for a couple of blocks before she brought them to a sudden halt. Softly panting, she leaned her back to a door.

She held up a key. “We’ve come to a point where there are two options left,” she said with a devious smile. Little pearls of salty sweat were slowly tracking their way down her face. He considered the options. He could leave. Walk away and never think of this past hour again. But the look in her bright eyes made him curious. Was she not afraid? Was she not wondering about the sparks coming out of his cane? What was her motive to take his hand and lead him here? He figured that the only way to get these questions answered was to follow her upstairs. He gave her a short nod, implying his approval.

They didn’t say a word as they entered her living room. He looked around the small apartment and wondered how someone could live like this, deprived from any luxury.

She seemed nervous all of a sudden, he noticed. It didn’t surprise him. Even though she seemed spontaneous and outgoing, she didn’t seem the type of girl that took strangers up for instant pleasure. She looked up at him with such intensity though, that he could feel his body responding. He took a step closer, not averting his eyes from hers.

The girl looked away and played with her gentle hands. “Would you like something to drink?” Her pitch was high and she swallowed anxiously. It had been a long time since he had been the object of a women’s desire and her adverse behaviour took him off guard. She wanted it, she would not have invited him otherwise. And now he wanted it too. He was certain it would make him feel better. At least for a while, and that was all he could ask for. He smiled at her. “I wouldn’t mind some more coffee, please.”

He caught a flicker of surprise before she turned to the kitchen to make the coffee he requested. He sat down on the small sofa. His thoughts turned to his soon to be ex-wife Narcissa, and he wondered what she was doing right now. Where she was. He hadn’t seen her for weeks. One morning he’d woken up and all her personal belongings had been gone. At first, he had kid himself into thinking that she would be coming back. That all she needed was time. That the absence of a note was a good sign. As one month turned into the other however, the truth started to kick in.

Desperate for contact, he had visited his son from whom he had alienated years ago. He had hoped that Draco would tell him more about Narcissa’s whereabouts. It had been a humiliating experience. Draco had sat in front of him, listening to his pleads, but unwilling to throw him even the smallest bone possible. Part of Lucius admired his son’s attitude. It reminded him of himself in his younger years. When all was well.

He now had lost everything he ever cared for and was trying to find a way to get back in the game of life. His eyes lingered on a photograph, lovingly placed on the dead fireplace. A young Wendy was posing with her parents, all of them happily smiling into the camera. There was something about the adults that seemed familiar to him. He was about to get up to take a closer look, when the older version of the girl in the picture entered the living area again, holding two cups of steaming hot coffee.

She followed his gaze as she put the cups in front of them on a wobbly looking table. “I still miss them,” she said with a sad smile. He searched her face, knowing the answer, yet unable to think of another question to ask. “Are they…?”

She looked away and sat down, rearranging the cushions in the sofa. Then she looked back up at him. One didn’t need to be a Legilimens to know she was trying to hide her feelings.

“Yes, they are.”

He nodded quietly. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He tried to comfort her with a smile, not sure whether he exercised the social gesture because he cared about the girl, or for more selfish reasons. Having known himself for almost half a century though, he suspected the latter.

Tears appeared in her eyes and she wiped them away impatiently, but they kept coming. He moved closer and gently took her face in his hands. With his strong thumbs, he softly wiped away the outlet of her sorrows. She let him. Their eyes locked eagerly, and he felt drawn to her more than he had thought he was still capable off. He slowly moved his face towards hers, giving her time to pull away, did she want to. His lips found hers.

Lucius didn’t want to rush this experience, especially since she had just been crying. He tenderly brushed his lips over hers, taking the time to get to know the sweetness of her mouth. He heard her sigh before she hungrily answered his tempting kiss. He gave in and his embrace became more passionate. His instincts took over.

Suddenly, he felt a hard object pushing against his stomach. She pulled away. At first he smiled at her, thinking she was going to award him with the next step, the unraveling of her clothes. But her tensed expression was telling him his assumption was wrong.

He looked down and noticed the sharp knife she had pulled on him. He looked back up at her, confused with her intentions.

“Don’t you remember!” she exclaimed in a shaky voice. “It was you who killed them!” Her emotions burned into his soul.

“Remind me…” he asked carefully.

Her lips were trembling, and she took a moment to consider his request. “Nine years ago, my parents and I were taking a short-cut home after visiting their friends, when we heard noises coming from a side alley. My father, always the hero, turned into that direction and my mother followed him, urging me to stay behind. Which of course I didn’t.”

He felt the pinch of the knife being pushed in deeper. He pulled his stomach in to leave more space before he’d actually get staked.

“Two men were torturing another man who was begging for mercy. The strange thing was that they didn’t even touch him, they were just pointing a stick at him,” her eyes lingered on his cane. “My father tried to help the victim but was pushed aside. One of the men, you ..” she looked at him with a bitter resentment, “.. saw my mother and invited her to come closer. She didn’t want to, I could see that, but you pointed your stick and she came. You made them kneel in front of you.”

He closed his eyes, ashamed of the memory. “I made Taylor choose which of the Muggles he wanted to save.”

“Muggle lover, that’s what you called him when he pointed at my mother.”

Lucius felt disgusted with himself. “And I killed her.”

“My father ..” he could hear her crying. “He didn’t even have time to hold her .. you killed him… as if he were…” “A bug.” He opened his eyes and was surprised not to meet hatred in hers. Tears were running down her face and the sight of her pain broke the strength inside him.

“I’ve tried to find you for years. A few months ago, I saw you on Leicester Square for the first time and I shadowed you. Today… I felt like it was time for my revenge.”

She pushed the knife in deeper and he felt his skin tear apart to make room for the intruding object. It stung painfully and he held his breath.

She looked confused. “I have wanted to kill you for years. You aren’t human .. You don’t deserve to live… And yet, I can’t do it.”

He felt her torturous battle. He felt the pain of all the people he had killed. All the tears he had caused. All the misery he had sown.

The decision she made was written on her tormented face and with a hint of self disgust, she attempted to pull the knife away from his torn flesh. In an impulse he grabbed her hand. Her eyes grew big, first with surprise, then with shock and horror, when he pushed the knife into his stomach with one swift motion.

He felt an excruciating pain as the warm blood spouted over their hands. Her lips moved but he couldn’t hear her words. He tried to concentrate.

“.. go to a hospital!”

There was panic in her voice. He shook his head. She tried to pull the knife out but he wouldn’t let her. He felt dizzy, light-headed. He looked down at the quickly growing red stain on his crispy white shirt, unable to grasp the reality that it was his blood he was looking at, that it was his life that was ending. He felt weaker by the second, he must have cut an artery, he thought. He fell back on the sofa, hoping this would make the pain more bearable. She bend over him and he saw her quivering.

He looked up at his hand touching her face. His fingers left a red trail on her cheek. He thought that was extremely funny, but he couldn’t laugh, he was too tired.

Gently, she took his face in her hands. He felt her tears fall down on his face as his spirit prepared to embark his body.

“Why?” she whispered.

He tried to smile. How could he explain that he did it for her? That he did it for Narcissa, for Draco? It should make them all feel better when the man who had caused them so many grievances would be no more. With his last strengths he uttered:

“Call it… Malfoy manners…”

And it was dark.

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