Journalism, Naked Boys & Other Things [raven]

Lucius was not unaccustomed to reveries of quiet thought. In fact, they were fairly habitual for him, and they frequently came upon him in the middle of the night, such as this very night. Hence, why he had stolen away from his dormitory, quiet so as not to disturb his slumbering roommate, and slipped into the confines of the Prefect bathroom. There were few places on Hogwarts he could find comfortable solace, especially during the day, but part of the perks of being a Prefect was being able to wander the corridors at night to his heart’s content. His usual haunts were the dungeons, the Astronomy tower, the library, and this bathroom.

But something Lucius was not accustomed to, were strange women peeping in on him in the middle of the night. It was startling in itself being walked in on in the middle of the night, but then he realized that the intruder wasn’t even a student, but a woman. She wasn’t on the staff, therefore he could only speculate as to who this brazen, red-head was.

At the sound of her purring voice, Lucius jumped back, and ended up dropping his book into the steaming waters. It was clear he was frustrated then, his brow furrowed and his lips set in a tight scowl. Clenching his jaw, he had to keep from screaming at this deranged woman. Lucius reached down and plucked the book from the water, holding it by the corner of its cover, and glowering at its ruined pages.
It wasn’t until that she spoke again, that Lucius became acutely aware of one simple fact. He was naked.

Butt-naked.

Flustered, Lucius was began scrambling about for nearby bubbles to… cover himself. Ahem. To his dismay, however, many of the bubbles had fizzled out; there was just enough to make himself less indecent. His discomfort could be seen in the way he sat; straight-backed, fists clenched, shrinking backwards to escape her leering gaze. In the end, Lucius was resigned to awkwardly clutching a cluster of bubbles over himself.

He took a moment to register her question. He supposed Lolita was a peculiar selection. It was peculiar in itself for a pure-blood to being reading Muggle literature. Lucius had picked up Nobokov’s classic a few days prior, after reading in a Muggle magazine that it was one of the greatest masterpieces in literary fiction. That was a compelling enough a description, in Lucius’s opinion, to give the book a chance. Though he had to admit, a book about a pedophilic man and his adolescent charge would not have been his first choice.

Suddenly the book seemed so relevant to his present predicament.

Growling slightly, Lucius replied as calmly as he could, “Madame, might I ask your name and why the bloody hell you thought interrupting a person as he bathes would be a fulfilling experience?”

He could feel her eyes examining him, and he suddenly found himself wishing that he'd shaven this morning. A scraggly mess, Lucius wasn't quite as prim and clean-cut as he normally was. He was still good-looking, that much was true, but normally he held higher standards for his outward appearance. Just lately, such things hadn't seemed quite as important to him. He wouldn't go through the motions anymore of using a de-frizzing potion and his normall short strands had become rather shagging and even dared to reach his cheekbones. It was no wonder no girls had asked him to the formal yet. He looked something akin to a stray dog. But a cute stray dog.

Lucius hadn't put much effort into much of anything, these days. His grades in his classes were slipping, he'd recoiled from his group of friends, and pretty much walked through the corridors of Hogwarts listlessly. The Wizard's Cup was about the only thing he'd thought about lately with any kind of fervor. Admittedly, he had only applied at first in order to impress his over-bearing father, to win back his approval, his respect. Part of Lucius wondered if he had ever even had those things to begin with. He shook those thoughts away though, not in the mood to think about such things. He'd come here to read, after all. Then again, his initial plans had changed, apparently.

Turning his head toward the red-head, Lucius could tell this sort of thing was normal for her. She was clearly a master in the art of seduction. Everything from her silk nightgown, her show-stopping red hair, perfectly done make-up, and purring voice seemed expertly calculated. She had done this numerous times, he expected. He imagined her having a catalogue of consorts, all drooling at her feet, eager to do her bidding and fulfill her every desire. She was the sort of woman that always had an escort on her arm, never alone, never wanting to be alone. After all, why would she be walking through the dark hall of Hogwarts at night, looking for someone to entertain her? A regular person would be asleep right now. Lucius supposed then that neither he or Raven were regular.

"I don't suppose you've read it then," Lucius began, casting a quick glance at her face before looking away. "It's very good, actually. And I really don't give a damn what my father thinks about it." Lucius knew very good and well that this wasn't true. His father was practically the reason behind all his choices. Which was probably one of the reasons Lucius had branched out to Muggle literature. He needed to get away from his family, from their elitist prejudices he didn't understand anymore. Hearing her own family drama, delivered in frank speech, Lucius regarded her with an expressionless stare. Not a very empathetic person, Lucius wasn't entirely certain how to react. "You seem... ok with it." He cleared his throat awkwardly.

Now it was Lucius's turn to be frank. "I don't really know why you came in here or what you're even still doing here. Perhaps you have a fetish for schoolboys. That's your business. But either stop being a tease and leave, or take your clothes off and get in. The longer she sat on the stone floor, dragging her fingertips through the steaming water, the harder Lucius was fighting to resist her. He knew her game, what she was playing at, and he found himself wanting to play along.

At this point, Lucius didn't even care that he was stark naked with no protective bubbles to hide his indecency. The conversation had distracted him, and frankly, he was way past modesty. Not to mention, Raven hardly seemed like the sort of blush easily. This entire time she'd maintained her cool rather expertly. No doubt she'd had plenty of experience in this sort of area. Lucius wasn't a blushing, virginal bride by any means. He'd had his usual, teenage conquests, no one ever serious. But this sort of predicament was definitely beyond his usual area of expertise. At her easy conversation, though, Lucius had relaxed and now his previous embarrassment was about the last thing on his mind. Lucius nodded, eyeing the volume he'd been reading before. "Yes, I would. But... Lucius paused and then added with a small smile, "You don't strike me as someone who reads."

Lucius had to admit, he was taken aback by her genuine display of compassion. Before he'd simply seen her as some fierce red-head without much regard for anyone else but herself. She struck him as a bit self-involved. Enigmatic and straight-forward, but self-involved. Not that he could exactly blame her. Lucius wasn't particularly warm to say the least. But she'd managed to surprise him. Her voice hit a new note, gentle and soothing, full of advice. He actually turned and looked her in the eye as she spoke, listening intently to what she said. Nodding, Lucius found himself agreeing. Yes, she was probably right. His parents couldn't control his life, especially not as he grew older. Lucius would probably always be the kind of person to heed his parent's words, but lately he really didn't give a rat's ass. In fact, he found them a bit exhausting and he had even begun to resent them. "Normal," he breathed. With an exasperated tone in his voice he replied, "I wish I knew what that was. When you're a Malfoy... things are a bit different."

At her words, Lucius arched a brow. Reporter. That was right, Raven Lennox Monroe of the Daily Prophet. She was the Queen of Gossip, always at the bottom of every scoop. She could find dirt in a snow storm, people said. Briefly, Lucius found himself wondering how many families and relationships had been uprooted at the fault of her deadly quill. The Malfoy family and even Lucius himself had been written about in her scathing column more than a few times. This was the first time he'd head the pleasure of meeting her, however. Gazing into those piercing eyes, it suddenly seemed so clear as to why she was so good at her job. Her stare compelled you to give up all your secrets, bore right into the depths of your soul. Lucius cleared his throat, suddenly feeling the fluttering of butterflies in his stomach. Well, that certainly was new. Trying to distract his mind from thinking the inappropriate things he was thinking, he replied hastily, slightly flustered, "Uh... Raven Monroe, right? Daily Prophet's resident gossip columnist. Word is you're dating the last Wizard's Cup Champion. Care to comment?" To his surprise, a slight smirk creeped on his lips, liking the irony of him playing the role of reporter.

Then suddenly, Raven was as bare as he. He really didn't expect her to deny him, but still, he found himself overwhelmed. His grey, serious eyes traveled across the expanse of body, wanting to look without gawking. He wasn't some inexperienced dolt, after all. As difficult as it was, he managed to maintain a calm composure, behaving as if this were a regular thing. Inwardly, he was stupefied. She settled into the water as gracefully and slowly as could be, and he could see that she was toying with him. She was cruel, but something about the gesture made him want her all the more. Thoughts he shouldn't be thinking were racing through his head like a thoroughbred. It was all he could to not pounce on her. Returning her smile, Lucius replied casually, "Much better."

At her words, Lucius' eyes lit up, his mouth curling into a serious. Immediately he folded his arms across his bare chest, glancing to his right, avoiding her piercing gaze. Then he nodded slowly and glanced back at her. Though was trying to maintain a calm, mature composure, his voice came out in a strangled snarl. "No, I understand. Poor little rich boy. Whining about how unfair his perfect life is. What does he know about suffering?" As much as he wanted to, he couldn't control his anger. Lucius wasn't the sort to lose his temper, but in this instance, he couldn't quite help lit. "Well let me tell you something, Miss Monroe, on the record, off the record, whatever. You don't know the first god damn thing about me, my life, or my family. So you can take your misguided judgments elsewhere." Turning red by the rush of emotions coursing through him, Lucius exhaled a deep breath. It was amazing how a little comment about his family could spark such a rage within him. A tense silence settled between them and Lucius steadily began to regret his sudden outburst, despite its honesty. Closing his eyes, he added in a softer tone, "I apologize, Raven. I didn't mean-- I'm not trying to compare my problems to anyone else's. I'm sure it seems trite to a worldly woman such as yourself but..." He licked his lips as if he intended to continue, but Lucius refrained, deciding to stop there.

He sighed, deciding he would humor her. Some dark, secret part of him wanted to tell her everything, to stop keeping everything to himself all the time. "It's..." he struggled for the word, eyebrows raised. "Truthfully it's stifling. Maddening. Like I'm living someone else's life." Lucius cringed at the thought if his parents had heard him say such a shocking thing. A Malfoy resenting his family? That was headline news to be sure. "Sure, having my linens freshly cleaned, not having to worry about chores, or responsibility is nice. However, there are other pressures that other people don't have. Other people don't have Abraxas Malfoy for a father or Lilith Malfoy for a mother."

Hearing her description of her romantic tendencies - or lack, thereof - Lucius nodded slowly in agreement. He had to admit he felt similarly. Lucius didn’t have what people would call a ‘love life.’ He couldn't say he’d made many attempts at it, either, much to his mother’s despair. As early as thirteen, his mother was always trying to place match-maker and fix him up with girls of ‘a pristine pedigree,’ – her words, not his – but with little to no avail. Dear, she would begin in her monthly letter to him, how is that such a handsome, intelligent, and quality boy such as yourself remains unattached? Your father says you are young and should keep your options open, but I disagree. I was betrothed to your father when I was fifteen! Surely there is a girl worthy of your arm and the Malfoy name. I heard that Cecelia Rook is…” blah, blah blah, at which point, Lucius would stop reading and resume what other thing he was previously doing.

It wasn’t that Lucius was scornful of love and relationships. It was more that he was disinterested. And picky. Yes, very picky, indeed. Girls were bothersome. They talked when you didn’t want them to, they wanted chocolate and flowers and other rubbish on Valentine’s Day, and if you didn’t tell them you loved them madly, absurdly every fifth of a second, they were convinced your heart was elsewhere and would be on their way in a loud, grief-stricken huff. He wanted someone who would look pretty, satisfy the high expectation of his parents, and ultimately, leave him alone. None of his peers seemed to understand this unusual criteria of his (nor did it seem that anyone was able to fulfill it), and so he was stranded on the Azkaban of his aversion.

Arching a brow, Lucius decided he could be forthright with her and stated bluntly, "Don't call me sugar. I'm a man, not a cookie." The word 'man' sounded strange coming off his tongue. Did Raven see him as a man? Most likely not. After all, she had Wizard Cup Champion Bryant Xavier on her arm, tending to her every whim and fancy. Was it strange that Lucius bristled at the thought? He wasn't jealous, exactly, it just seemed that everyone else was involved with someone except for him. Watching her bite down on her lip flirtatiously, Lucius shifted in his seat, trying to control the nerves that were raging throughout his entire body.

Fine. So I don't know the first thing about your family, Mr. Malfoy. Explain it to me. Lucius regarded her with one of his cold, serious stares. Why in Merlin's name was she so curious? He'd known this woman for but a few moments and already he was on the verge divulging everything in his life to her, all the things he'd kept locked up for so long. What was it about her that made him want to do that, anyway? Normally he was such a closed door. Under lock and key, barred and gated. He repressed. He bottled everything inside till it began to fester and consume. Lucius had never been able to understand those people that could be so open and forthright with their feelings. Those people were so unafraid of judgment. Of being vulnerable. The Slytherin boy had always felt that if he kept everything a secret, then he wouldn't have to face it. Staring at Raven, he found himself coming again to the conclusion that it was her striking eyes that made her so... there wasn't even a word for it. Explain it to me, she had said. And Lucius knew he would, sooner or later.

Abraxas Malfoy, in an effort to "bond" with his young and only son, taught Lucius early on how to fly a broomstick. It was supposed to be a fun, enjoyable experience for both of them. The Malfoy Manor was expansive and sprawling; there were numerous places the two of them could go to fly and have a memorable father-son experience. Lucius had been looking forward to it since his father proposed the idea. It had been a windy day, cold and grey, and Lucius was ready to go in the foyer before the sun had even risen. His father was his idol, everything he wanted to be. That day, Lucius wanted nothing more than to impress the man who meant everything to him. Lucius could already seem the gleam of pride in his father's eyes, could imagine the feeling of his hand on his shoulder. The first try, Lucius had lost control of the broom and was sent flying into the mud. It had hurt like a dragon's bite, but young Lucius had gotten up immediately. He wouldn't be weak in front of Abraxas. A few meters away, he watched as his father strode toward him. It was probably only a few seconds, but it had felt like an eternity. Lucius distinctly recalled wondering why his father hadn't rushed over to help him up. When it seemed as if his father had finally reached him, Lucius was expecting a Good try, son or a Better luck next time. Something encouraging. Instead, Abraxas clutched him by the arm, and kicked him as hard as he could on the ass. If Abraxas hadn't been holding him by the arm, Lucius probably would've been sent flying, he kicked him so hard. Then Abraxas turned around and headed back to the manor. They never resumed their flying lessons. Lucius woke up every morning after that though to teach himself. Eventually, he did, and became quite the fair flyer, but his father would never know that.

Lucius shook himself from his quiet reverie. His eyes had grown lost and distant, but now he focused on Raven again. To his surprise, a bitter laugh escaped from his lips. It seemed like such a silly question to him, something terribly obvious. Girls were hardly the first thing on his mind, especially as of late. With a decisive shake of his head, he replied, "No, no, no... No. My mother tries to force girls on me. Wants me to marry a proper, worthy pure-blood, and all. I'm just... not interested." He realized how that might sound, like he was anti-love or something, so he quickly added, "Don't get me wrong. I do want to marry one day. When I meet the right person. I hope I never end up like some of my peers and forced to marry someone I despise." His thoughts went to Andromeda and Jacen. Rodolphus and Bellatrix. He didn't care much for the lot of them, but he pitied them more than they would ever know. "I believe in love. As elusive as it is. I want a child one day. Hopefully a son." He felt the heat rise to his cheeks as he said those words. It was his greatest desire: to have a family, and he had never told anyone that before. He was sure his peers would poke fun at him for having such a 'nancy boy' dream like that. But it was what he wanted more than anything. To have a son and give him the love his father had never shown him.

Giving her a sullen look, Lucius meditated on her words. He had to say this right. When he was about to speak though, she interjected. He had judged her perhaps a little too quickly, he realized, and his gaze softened. A sincerity he hadn't heard from her broke through their conversation. Something lay beneath the surface, something she wasn't telling him. He was suddenly filled with the ardent desire to know what it was, what demons kept her awake at night. Did they haunt her as much as they did him? "I love my parents, Raven. I know it might not seem like it, but no matter what they say or do, I can never hate them." It was a complicated question, as it was, though. His two parents were so... different. His mother Lilith was an infuriating, tedious thing. Lucius would say so to anyone, but he was certain she was slightly mad. When he was home, he would go days at a time, sometimes weeks without seeing her. She'd lock herself away in her room and stay in bed all day. She was neurotic, a control-freak. She was obsessed with status and constantly paranoid that people were talking about her, conspiring against her, et cetera. Lucius had never met anyone so daunting. Then there was his father who was so many things that he could never say aloud. Abrasive. Cold. Domineering. Egotistical. Crippling. He felt a stabbing in his chest at the thought. He failed to elaborate on Raven's question though. He couldn't say such things to her, at least now yet. Turning toward her, he leaned closer. "I hardly know anything about you. Tell me more about yourself."

He was surprised when he felt the tips of her fingers trail across his collarbone, falling down to his arm. Then again, they were naked in a bathtub. He couldn't be that surprised. Arching a brow, a skeptical smile appeared on his face. "Please, just call me Lucius." His mother called him Lu and the nickname had always made him stiffen with discomfort. A wave of disappointment passed over him when she pulled away. But why should he be disappointed? Lucius didn't voice this however, not wanting to misread her signals.