Marrying Lucius Malfoy

Bright mornings never made things look any better. In Selina's opinion, what with the blinding morning sunlight and the stupid chirping birds, everything was only made worse. Such were her sentiments when she awoke the morning after Riley's first visit.

She was rather touched to find that her best friend had dozed off in the amber armchair. The tabloid type magazine that Riley had been scanning lay in several pieces on the floor and around her feet. Selina was even more impressed when she saw that, in the small loveseat beside the armchair, reclined a pensive Pamela.

Pamela, unlike Riley, was awake. She too had brought something to thumb through, but her reading material looked more like an old classic book than a trashy gossip magazine. Every few seconds she'd glance up at Selina, as if worried that her mistress had gone back into a coma. When she saw that Selina was indeed awake, her face slipped into a relieved smile.

"Morning, Selina," she said softly. "Did you sleep well?"

Selina shook her head. "Not at all. I had a slew of nightmares."

"I can talk to Dr. Carfunkell about a Dreamless Sleep potion if you wish. It might help you." Pamela set down her novel and stretched. "By the way, Selina, I love your new hairstyle!"

Selina's hands went to her short red curls. The taming charm that had temporarily straightened her hair for the holidays had long ago worn off. Now that a good six inches of hair had been shorn off her curls had become tight and compact, almost like a cap of hair. She hadn't had a good look in the mirror yet, but she thought that she might like the "new" her.

"Thanks," she said in reply. Her voice didn't have its usual perky ring to it though, and Pamela picked up on that straight away.

"Hey, Selina? You'd tell me if you needed a shoulder to cry on, wouldn't you? If wanted to tell me anything about when you were attacked, or about miscarrying, then I'm here for you." Unlike Riley, Pamela's offer was a sincere one. Selina took note that Pamela was the first person not to refer to her miscarriage as "losing" her child. Somehow, that meant something, that someone wasn't trying to soften the blow of what she had gone through.

But still, Selina wasn't ready to talk. She was shifting into self-pity, for being so stupid as to have ventured out into the dark, cold winter's night. She didn't want anyone's comfort. She was content to be a martyr.

"I know. And I would. Thanks Pamela. I'll be alright for a bit. You don't have to guard me. Could you wake Riley and have you both go get some real rest in real beds?" Selina asked. When Pamela lingered she hardened her face. "Do I need to make that an order? I want to be alone!"

Pamela, against her better instincts, complied. She gently shook Riley awake and explained the new plan. Riley looked as though she would put up a fight before leaving Selina's side, but luckily a nurse came in and ordered the both out.

"I'd like to speak with Mrs. Graham," she said, rushing both women out of the posh hospital room. "Come back in an hour or two."

It took Selina a moment to realize that Graham must have been her alias while staying at the private hospice. She didn't know what her first name was, and so she hoped the nurse would mention it in a question. However, when the nurse whipped out a clipboard and quill, Selina began to realize that the nurse was in fact a psychiatrist.

She didn't know whether she wanted to strangle Dr. Carfunkell for suggesting a psychiatrist or her brother-in-law for agreeing to let her see one. Selina opted for both, but she decided that while she was waiting she might as well get rid of her quack as well.

"Hello, sweetheart. How are you holding up?" The nurse gave her a magically perfected smile. Her soft, rosy cheeks dimpled, and her upswept blonde hair had been teased into curls. She radiated a motherly warmth, and Selina supposed that she was supposed to connect with such a kindly woman, but she in no mood to be treated like a toddler by a complete stranger.

"How long are you going to be here?" Selina asked.

"Dr. Carkfunkell thinks it'd be best to start off at two hours. After the first week I'll evaluate how you're doing, and then we'll cut down on the time if things are going well. But really, how are you doing?"

"Two hours? Every day? But I don't need psychiatry! I have my friends-"

"But your friends aren't able to handle a crisis such as losing a child the way I am. Believe me, Mrs. Graham--or would you rather I called you Penny?--by the time you leave we'll be two peas in a pod!"

'I doubt it,' Selina thought angrily as she settled back into bed. She might have to lay there for the next two hours, but that didn't mean that she'd cooperate. Two hours later, after trying to coax at least a few words out of Selina, the woman, who was called Doctor Fuller, left in an agitated mess. Selina watched her go disdainfully. She knew she'd get a repercussion from either Lucifer or Dr. Carfunkell, or perhaps both, but she was beyond caring.

Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, Lucifer appeared, a frown shadowing his handsome features. Selina looked at him a moment, sizing him up to Lucius.

Lucifer, at a first glance, looked nearly identical to his older brother. It was only when you stood the two side by side that you noticed Lucifer's hair was an inch or two shorter than his brothers, curling in wisps at the nape of his neck. His eyes were two shades darker than those of Lucius Malfoy, and so they seemed more like stone than ice. Though his features were designed in the same pointy fashion as his brother's, Lucifer's face was softened by his dimples--Lord knows how a Malfoy ever wound up with dimples--and the fact the he smiled more often. Lucifer was a like a blurred picture of his elder brother.

"Dr. Fuller says you're deep in denial," Lucifer said while standing in the doorway. He seemed reluctant to come in any farther, and Selina clued in that she wasn't about to get punished at all. Even worse, she was about to get a sizeable helping of sympathy. "She says that you wouldn't talk to her the whole session. She didn't tell me much more than that, but I'm worried that you're more depressed than we'd estimated."

'People have estimated my depression levels?' Selina wondered, with just a touch of anger. She herself couldn't tell how unhappy she was--how could anyone else try to do it for her? Her silence seemed to confirm a silent fear inside of Lucifer.

"I think," he said, "that we should extend your stay here a bit longer. Until Dr. Fuller signs off that you're at a more stable level, I don't want you returning to the manor."

Selina sunk deep under her covers and hid from her brother-in-law. She knew she wasn't helping her case any, but she felt like a worthless object of furniture when Lucifer used terms like "stable level" and "estimated" to describe her feelings. She was thankful when Lucifer, sensing he'd done all he could and then some, left.

No one else came that day, except the nurses, and Selina couldn't decide for herself if she was thankful for that either.

~*~

Riley stared at her glass of water and steamed silently, just daring any man to approach her. Her date was late, and she knew he did that just to show her how much in debt she was to him. She hated him all the more for his snide snobbishness. At least she was past wondering how she'd been forced to go on the date in the first place.

It had happened like so: The night after Riley arrived at the Lewis Ludwig House for the Magically Ailing was the worst of her life. Seeing Selina, whom Riley had protected since they'd met on the boat to Serendipity's, all beaten and bruised like that had been a cruel slap in the face. After losing Bruce just months before now it was possible that she'd lose Selina too.

And she couldn't help but feel that everything could have been prevented if she'd only stuck around for the holidays. If she'd been around she'd have never let Selina run off into the woods. Riley knew she would have taken out every son of a bitch who'd dared to go after her best friend. Secretly she knew that she wasn't the one to blame, but depression does funny things to people.

Riley remembered clearing the need to escape. She remembered how smothered she'd felt inside Selina's room, watching doctors rush around her seemingly lifeless friend, checking stats and speaking in large medical terms. She'd never been more relieved in her life when a nurse had rushed her out of the room.

Riley also remembered, though with a little less clarity, that she'd apparated to a dodgy part of London. She couldn't remember how she'd known where to find a bar that didn't card, but she had, and she'd slipped into seat herself at the bar. The bartender, a sleazy fellow who lacked his four front teeth, had served her a martini on the rocks before sidling off to help a drunken patron out the door. It had been in between her fifth and sixth drink of hard liquor that Snake and Bear had approached her.

Of course, their names weren't really Snake and Bear. She didn't ever ask for the real names. They'd just resembled the animals closely, and so the labels stuck in her mind.

"Got a date, love?" Snake had hissed in her ear. Riley had tried to make him go away by closing her eyes. When she had reopened them both he and Bear were standing considerably closer. "Well, do you?" His breath made her neck feel dirty, and Bear reeked of something awful.

When she'd tried to leave, Bear's sweaty hand stopped her short. "You're not going anywhere, darling, until you answer his question," the gargantuan man growled.

"Just let me go," Riley had pleaded. She was drunk, and her words had slurred. The men had taken this for a sign of weakness. Making perhaps the biggest mistake of his life, Snake had but his hand somewhere terribly inappropriate. Riley, fed up with the world, had whipped out her wand and insured that Snake wouldn't be that hand anywhere for a long time.

No, the Bastard-That-Was-Riley's-Date, known to most others as Draco Lucius Malfoy, had not showed up to save her from the thugs. He had, however, shown up to save her from the Ministry when they stormed the bar--Riley had, after all, used magic in a muggle area--and he'd kept her ass out of jail. Riley had known that the Malfoys wielded power at the Ministry, but it wasn't until Draco showed up with that smug, jackass's smirk that cold December night that Riley had realized just how much the Ministry valued the Malfoys, or more specifically valued their money.

"She's a friend of my stepmother's," Draco had drawled. "It would upset her to learn that her best friend could not visit. And when she's upset, so is my father."

That had gotten the attention of whatever stuck-up official had been in charge of the investigation. The two men holding Riley had let her go hastily, and she'd stumbled away from them. She'd knelt down on the pavement and thrown up while Draco negotiated Riley's release fee.

"You boys are short two-hundred galleons on the repairs to the Ministry's headquarters, aren't you? My father would be happy to make the donation. Yes, yes, I'll just owl some more official papers over tomorrow morning. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get Ms. Bryce here home." He'd dismissed himself from the crowd of Ministry officials quickly, and soon he had Riley had been cruising through the streets of London in a long limo. Riley began to suspect that the limo was enchanted, because it made every red light and squeezed down tiny alleyways until it took a mighty leap and was hurtling through the country.

"I suppose," she muttered sleepily, "that you expect some sort of payment. Don't think that I'm going to sleep with you though."

Draco smirked confidently. "Ask you to sleep with me after what you did to that man's hand? I think not! For now, I'd just like your company while I dine at The Pavilion two weeks from now. It's a lovely little place in Bridgington. I'm quite partial to the food."

Riley frowned. "Won't you be back in school by then?" she asked hopefully.

"Ah, mi sucrè, I've already solved that! Due to a family crisis I will not be able to return to school until the third week of January. They'll be plenty of time for our date."

And in the end Riley had been forced into agreeing with him. It'd been one miserable night with the slimy Malfoy heir or many miserable nights in the Ministry's jailhouse. She'd opted for the former, and that's how she'd come to be sitting at The Pavilion instead of in Selina's hospital room.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting." Draco had finally shown up. He had dressed well for the occasion, in robes of deep, deep blue and a black, silver clasped cloak. Riley looked at him for a moment and had to concede that, in a disgusting sort of way, Draco Malfoy was indeed quite handsome. It made tolerating the date that much harder to have to admit so.

"You're half an hour late, Mr. Malfoy, as I'm quite sure you're aware of." Riley intensified her glare. "Hurry up and sit down. I don't want this to go on any longer than necessary."

"You don't make the rules, Riley. You're here just as long as I please," Draco informed her. He seemed dually pleased that he was in control.

'Machismo jackass,' Riley thought bitterly. 'I bet he has dominance issues too.'

Thankfully Draco was fairly voracious mood. He ordered soon after he arrived and Riley soon after him. After their waiter brought them a bottle of expensive wine--the management of The Pavilion apparently didn't have any qualms about serving a minor and his date alcohol--the table lapsed into a terrible, stifling silence. Draco, as much as he had wanted to go on a date with sexy, older Riley, hadn't anticipated the challenge of actually speaking to her.

Riley was almost thankful for the silence. The date would be wasted away, and her only memories of it would be Draco sipping moodily at his glass of wine and trying to be debonair with little success. When their food came--Draco had ordered sautéed chicken's breast and Riley was dining on fresh veal--they at least had something to occupy themselves with.

Then, three minutes to nine, a tall, suave gentleman approached the table. He was dressed in fancy dress robes and his haircut had to rate at least three digits, so Riley rightfully assumed that he was The Pavilion's owner. Draco didn't notice the man until he was upon their tabe, and he looked apprehensive the moment the man began to speak, as if afraid a great secret was about to reveal itself.

"Mr. Malfoy! How wonderful to see you here! It has been a while since you last serenaded us!"

Was it Riley's imagination or did Draco Malfoy just squirm?

"I'm sure your lady friend would love to hear a romantic love ballad. Perhaps something by Octavia Harpsbow?"

And why was he blushing? And twitching? And what did this man mean...Serenade her with a love ballad?

"Er, well, maybe not tonight, Mr. Gabiari-"

"But Mr. Malfoy! If you don't sing then I think my staff will go on strike! It's always such a pleasure to hear such a lovely voice!"

Riley was so surprised that she nearly choked on piece of meat. As it was, she coughed it up onto the table and stared at her date, who was shooting daggers at Mr. Gabrari. "Sing, Malfoy? You sing? At this restaurant?"

Mr. Gabriari looked surprised. "But didn't you know, Madame?"

"No," Draco spat, "she didn't. I brought her here to be entertained by others, not myself!"

Mr. Gabriari quickly became all apologies. Riley had never heard a man say he was sorry so many times at once. It would have been rather funny if she hadn't been sure that Draco could run him out of town and ruin the cozy restaurant. As quickly as he'd come, Mr. Gabriari was off, back into the nooks of The Pavilion. Once he was gone Riley had no trouble coming up with questions to start a conversation.

"You sing here? Draco Malfoy, closet performer? Oh, this is just rich!" Riley launched into a barrage of snorts and giggles, the likes of which caused the patrons of two tables over to frown disgustedly.

"The Pavilion is famous for allowing its customers to perform after nine."

"You mean like a karaoke bar?" Riley asked. When Draco raised a fair eyebrow she muttered, "Never mind. But answer my first question: you sing here?"

"On the odd occasion," Draco replied. He was trying to regain control of the situation by being urbane and Malfoyish, but Riley didn't miss the flush around his collar.

"Well, what about tonight? Are you going to perform tonight?" Riley was having fun. If she could just keep Draco flustered then he might crack and sing something...Oh, that'd be good for some laughs!

"I don't believe so." Draco took a sip of his wine and gave a leer that would have made his father proud. That reminded Riley of something.

"Really? Because I would so love to hear you sing." Riley allowed her voice to drop several octaves until it was a husky, sexy Southern drawl. She leaned forward, emphasizing her not at all insubstantial bosom. She knew by the young Malfoy heir's gulp that he noticed. "Would you sing for me?"

Draco was losing any resolve he had built up over the past few minutes. He might have been a reserved, collected Malfoy, but no man could ignore a pretty face like Riley's. But he still had his dignity. "No. No, I won't sing."

Riley decided to turn it up a bit. She hated to touch Draco Malfoy like that...But if she heard him sing then she'd blackmail the hell out of him! Slowly, with a calculated movement that had melted many a man before Malfoy, she placed a slim hand halfway up Draco's thigh.

"Please?"

Her hand gave a soft squeeze, and Draco was a lost man. Screw dignity when you had something like that! He stood and made his way to the stage. A pudgy tourist had been in line before him, but when a waiter in charge saw who it was he all but shoved the woman out of the way. Draco allowed someone to perform a magnifying spell on his voice, and then he stepped onto the stage. Lights dimmed and Riley prepared to laugh until her sides split. Snotty, drawling Malfoy sing her a love ballad?

Bring it on!

And then he actually began to sing.

Raven hair, and ruby lips
Sparks fly from her fingertips
Echoed voices in the night
She a restless spirit on an endless night

Woo-hoo, witchy woman, see how high she flies
Woo-hoo, witchy woman, she got the moon in her eyes

And Riley actually began to enjoy herself.

She held me spellbound in the night,
Dancing shadows and firelight,
Crazy laughter in another room,
And she drove herself to madness with a silver spoon

Draco's talking voice was smooth and elegant, to be sure, but his singing voice was low and husky and manly in a way that no sixteen-year-old boy had a right to be. Riley knew she should get up and walk out. A girl could lose herself in a voice like that. She'd always had a thing for singers--before she dated Bruce she'd dated a moody, punk from a band called Social Pariah--and having a weakness for a Malfoy was a big no-no!

But she could stand to listen to the end of the song. After all, what was one little song...?