Vacillation and Volition, Chapter Seven
Title: Vacillation and Volition, Chapter Seven: Company and Compunction
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Lucas Malory (OC), Katie Bell, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, various Weasleys
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 5,084
Author's Note: To read this story from the beginning, please click here. Thank you to nephthysmoon for her grand beta work, and to aiseiri_47 for sharing her Fleur expertise. ;)
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Dearest Grandfather,
I am sorry it has been so long since my last letter, but with the new governmental developments, it has probably been for the best. Fortunately, our residence has not been subject to any new investigations, and I am happy to tell you that I seem to be completely safe. I very much hope that you have not had to endure any inquiries due to me or my absence.
As far as I can tell, we are expecting a very peaceful holiday here, without any additional company. This will suit me just fine, as the only other person I would wish to see is you.
Love, and Merry Christmas,
Lucas
Content with his short letter, Lucas carefully sealed the scroll and tied it to the feathered leg of Rosilda, Muriel’s beautiful but bad-tempered owl. He carried her over to the conservatory window, which opened up to the cold morning without a sound, and she took off just as noiselessly. Lingering, Lucas watched the landscape, its outlines softened by a thick layer of frost.
He felt her restlessness as she entered the room.
“No duelling today?”
Turning around, he came to face Katie, dressed in a set of red robes, wand in hand.
“No,” he smiled, cool air brushing against his hair, “Charlie and I agreed that we deserved a few days off for the holidays.”
“I see,” she sighed, and slumped down in the nearest chintz chair. After closing the window, Lucas joined her on the other side of the coffee table.
“Are you all right?” he wondered, already knowing that she wasn’t, but unawares of why.
“Not really,” she replied truthfully, rolling the wand back and forth between her fingertips. She looked up without stopping the motion, and met his patient gaze. “You don’t want to know why, do you?”
“I do, if you want to tell me.”
A quick smile flashed across her face before the frown returned. “It’s just… It’s Christmas. I do realise I’m stuck here for a perfectly good reason, but that doesn’t stop me wishing I were home with my family, making moving gingerbread and decorating some silly tree. I wish I could have gone shopping for presents in Diagon Alley, fretting over not finding anything for my sister, or worse, for Harry.” She paused to sigh, and Lucas was hit by a wave of the longing she felt. “It’s awful. I don’t understand how you and Charlie can be so calm!”
“Charlie’s not as calm as he looks,” Lucas revealed. “He misses his family, too.”
“And what about you?” Straightforward, just like Charlie.
“I miss my grandfather, of course. But our Christmases aren’t that special; we haven’t had a tree since my mother passed away, and definitely none of this,” he said, gesturing with a smile at the countless ornaments, decorations and tasteless knick-knacks that Muriel had forced Thatcher to put up around the whole house. Charlie had insisted he should help, to the great distress of the house-elf, and with him levitating baubles and tinsel all around, Lucas and Katie had seen fit to join in as well. In spite of the rather horrible-looking end result, they had all shared a few hours of something that Lucas suspected to be holiday spirit.
“No tree?” Katie shook her head in disbelief.
“It’s much more convenient that way, and not as miserable as you may think. Besides, then we don’t have to worry about the dogs using it as a bathroom.” He smiled at her, and she returned it; again, briefly.
“But you’d still rather be there than here, right?” she asked, pointing her wand at him by way of emphasis.
“Yes, I suppose so,” Lucas shrugged, not really wanting her to know that he was quite taken with the lack of routines at the farm, and with the multitude of emotions that she and Charlie unknowingly shared with him. He loved Maximilian and missed him, but the ways and feelings of his grandfather were too familiar for Lucas to want to trade them for this.
“So, no duelling,” Katie smoothly changed the subject. “How about some flying, then? I believe Muriel has some ancient brooms in a shed somewhere, and I’m sure we could -”
She was interrupted by the sound of a door slammed shut, and Lucas’ head snapped instantly in that direction, knowing that it was Charlie who had caused it. The bolt of excitement and surprise originated from him, too, and Lucas couldn’t help himself; he jumped up from his seat, his heartbeat a little quicker.
“What?” asked Katie, confusion plain on her face.
“I think someone’s coming,” Lucas said, as much to her as to himself.
“Who?!” she almost shouted, also out of her chair now. Charlie’s behaviour didn’t indicate Dementors on the doorstep, so they walked together towards the main entrance. Lucas was acutely aware of the blazing hope that burned in Katie’s heart and quickened her pace, and found himself wishing that her wish would be fulfilled.
His own hesitation was mixed with her deep disappointment as they walked through the open front doors. But Charlie’s enthusiasm was also infectious; his arms were tight around a short, plump woman as he lifted her from the ground and into a bear hug. Lucas recognised Arthur Weasley next to them, his arm around the shoulders of a teenage girl, until Charlie progressed to picking her up instead. She scowled at first, but then broke into a laughter that matched her big brother’s perfectly. There were two more: a badly scarred man with hair that matched the rest of the family’s - the oldest brother, Bill, Lucas recalled, and a stunning woman who must be the French wife Charlie had told him about, Fleur.
What Charlie had refrained from mentioning, Lucas realised at once, was the Veela blood in her veins. The grace that marked her slightest movements left him breathless like it did so many men, if for different reasons. Recognition stabbed at him, screamed in his ears, and he wasn’t aware of staring until all of their faces were turned towards him. He was alone on the top of the stairs; Katie had walked down without him noticing, and was just releasing herself from Charlie’s mother’s arms. Lucas could not catch any outright hostility among the many emotions crashing against his senses, but the woman’s eyes were widened in surprise, and Bill Weasley slid a protecting arm around his wife’s waist. Charlie, however, hadn’t noticed the tension.
“Lucas!” he called, his voice brimming over with joy, “Come and meet my family. Well, half of it at least.”
Lucas did as his friend asked him, struggling to fall back into his usual politeness. The short distance down the stairs seemed impossibly long, each second an eternity. He had plenty of time to realise the misconception he had put himself under, and berate himself for it; it had been so easy here, forgetting who he really was, what he was, and why he had spent his life separated from other people even when he had been right among them. Charlie and Katie were both so honest, so empty of judgement and suspicion that he had often forgotten to check himself. The irregular presence of Muriel Prewett had seemed insignificant, too; it had done nothing to restrain him.
He had arrived before Charlie, who guided him towards his mother.
“You know my dad already, of course,” he began, and Mr Weasley nodded at Lucas, without smiling. “Mum, meet Lucas Malory. And Lucas, this is my fabulous mum, who happens to be best cook in Britain.”
“Shush, Charlie,” she said with a faint blush, although she seemed pleased at his praise. But her face grew sombre again as she realised she had to extend her hand to Lucas.
“Very nice to meet you, Mrs Weasley,” he offered, taking hold of her hand but only swiftly. Through her nervousness he realised what she must think, what his face reminded her of. Lucas did not intend to prolong the discomfort, but continued to the next family member in line.
Bill’s grasp was strong, even more so than was suggested by his built and steady gaze. Lucas felt caution in its pressure, as well as surprising calmness and patience. The oldest brothers resembled each other a lot, Lucas felt, although Charlie must always have been the more optimistic of the two.
“This is my wife, Fleur,” Bill Weasley said, his voice suggesting a warning rather than an introduction. She extended her delicate hand carefully, though Lucas could tell that she was curious, no doubt trying to figure out what it was that she recognised in him.
Their palms pressed together only for a second, but it was long enough for her eyes to widen. A small gasp escaped her, and surprised words sprung form her lips.
"But you 'ave Veela blood, Monsieur Malory! 'ow can zat be?"
“Only very little. My mother was just one quarter Veela.” He paused, wondering if it would be a good idea to be honest, and deciding that it couldn’t hurt. “Please forgive me for staring before, but you remind me of her.”
Once again, Charlie interrupted the tense moment, this time with a chuckle.
“I think Fleur is used to being stared at. My brother is just going to have to learn to live with it.”
The married couple smiled a little at this, and Charlie dragged Lucas along to the only remaining person in the party.
“Last but not least - though, still smallest - this is my sister, Ginny.” Charlie grinned.
She rolled her eyes at his teasing of her slight size, before reaching forward to shake Lucas’ hand like the others had. The contact of skin, while not vital to his extra sense, sometimes made a person’s emotions clearer to him. This was the case with Charlie’s little sister, and once again Lucas came across a lot that reminded him of the brother he knew so well. But her restlessness was different, her heart a little harder, and he found himself wondering why that was.
As soon as he released her, Katie saved them from another awkward silence by taking Mrs Weasley under the arm and guiding her towards the house.
“Let’s go inside. I’m sure your aunt will want to know that you’re here, Mrs Weasley.”
“I’m sure she will,” Charlie’s mother agreed with a small sigh, but then her face brightened. “And we have a Christmas dinner to prepare!”
The others followed, but Lucas lingered, only following Charlie when all the others had passed were halfway up the stairs. He closed the front door behind them after entering the house, and was instantly aware of how crowded the house seemed, buzzing with voices and emotions. He had many years of practice tuning people’s feelings out, but it was a talent he had not exercised for several months. Lately, he had allowed himself to be more aware instead, something that he now regretted.
Attempting to escape the newcomers, he headed for the covered passage to the underground rooms. But before he could cross the next threshold, a strong hand closed around his wrist. He spun around, and met Charlie’s concerned expression.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Lucas lied. “I just - I need a moment to myself. Excuse me.”
“Sure, of course,” Charlie said, releasing his grip on Lucas’ arm, confusion plain on his face.
Lucas left him, walking faster now, and trying to ignore the feeling of Charlie’s worried gaze on his back, and the diminished joy in his heart.
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He was a coward. He felt pathetic. He should not be here.
But he was, curled up in foetal position on his borrowed bed, as if to emphasise how useless he really was. The arrival of Charlie’s family had brought with it a stunning clarity; how could Lucas ever have fooled himself to think that he mattered to him, or to Katie? They both had their families, their friends, and sincere as their feelings towards him might be, the only reason they felt what they did was because they were forced to remain in this place together.
Even with all the years he had spent in solitude, Lucas could not recall ever feeling so alone before.
Of his mother’s family remained nothing, save for his elderly grandfather and a handful of haughty, unpleasant French cousins. He loved Maximilian dearly and would always do, but while they cared for one another, he and Lucas had so little in common.
And his father, he had only acknowledged Lucas’ existence when in dire need of his assistance. Now, when Lucas had so spectacularly failed to be of any use, he knew that the man he so greatly resembled would never bother with him again. Why this suddenly concerned him Lucas couldn’t understand, but it did. His fist was tightly clutched around the golden coin, but it was still and cold, unwilling to even absorb the warmth of his skin.
He felt like a traitor, that much he knew, although he was unsure of what was causing that feeling. Part of him wished he could have aided his father, but another wanted to somehow be able aid Charlie and his family. But wishing was of little use of course; it would take resolve to do either of those things, and that he lacked even more than company.
Sighing deeply, he began to stretch his cramping limbs. There was company to be had, after all, but he had no desire to force himself upon the visitors. Charlie and Katie would put up with him, he was fairly sure, but did he really want to cause them the discomfort that his presence would undoubtedly bring? They were happy there now, above the ground, he couldn’t help feeling that even though he was blocking his sense best he could. What right did he have to disturb what little Christmas peace they might have found?
He lay on the crumpled covers for another endless stretch of time, wishing… not to be dead, because he wouldn’t want to cause Maximilian the grief of losing another family member. No, he rather wished that he could erase his very existence. What was the purpose of it, anyway? He was never meant to be, only the accidental result of a scandalous affair, and there was no place for him in the wizarding world. Surely, Merridown was still there among the Hampshire hills, but he couldn’t fathom returning to his lonely days there, not when he had caught a bright glimpse of a life so different.
He would have to come to terms with it. There was nothing else to do, and he knew that with absolute certainty. The war would eventually come to an end, and no matter the outcome, he would have to say goodbye to the people had come to regard as friends. Katie would be back with her family, whether in peace or in hiding, and Charlie would return to his dragons, one way or another. With He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named taking over the Ministry, and the lines of resistance growing thin, there must be very little time left.
This thought managed to push him up into a sitting position. It was true, he had no right to inflict his presence on the Weasleys, but did it really matter? He would be gone from their lives soon enough. Would it be so very wrong of him to enjoy Charlie’s company while he could? No, he would be a fool not to.
Standing up, he put the lifeless piece of gold into its usual pocket, and pulled numb fingers through is hair in an attempt to smoothen it. An unnecessary action, as his hair never seemed to tangle. His robes were straight enough, so he headed for the door, through the corridor and up the stairs. It was all silent, though he could sense each one of them in the house. It was dark outside, he saw as he passed by the windows, but still some hours until nighttime.
It didn’t take him long to discover the presence of two more people. They came into his view as he cautiously entered the sitting room. The young woman had her back turned to him, so he could only observe that she was lean, and how her thick, brown hair was doing its best to escape the confines of a long braid. The man was easy to identify; he must be another Weasley brother, crowned red and with freckles thrown across his face, just like Charlie who was standing next to him.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Ron.”
So it was Ron, the youngest, meaning that she must be -
But his speculations were cut short when Charlie’s brother suddenly spotted him, his eyes widening with anger.
“Who are you?” Ron Weasley marched up to Lucas at once, the other two following after. He turned to Charlie before Lucas had a chance to open his mouth. “Who the hell is he?”
“Ron!” hissed the girl; Hermione Granger, Lucas had already presumed.
“I see that being on the run has done wonders for your manners, little brother,” Charlie frowned. “Hermione, Ron - this is my good friend Lucas Malory.”
“How do you do, Lucas?” said the young woman, hurrying to take hold of his hand and shake it, probably to distract him from the mistrusting and not-so-discrete staring of Charlie’s brother.
“Ehm. Pleased to meet you,” Lucas said, close to losing his composure for once.
“Great! Now, Charlie, I believe your mum and the house-elf are having some serious disagreements considering a Christmas meal; perhaps you’ll come and negotiate?”
“Sure…” Charlie agreed, a bemused expression on his face as he followed Hermione, who was firmly steering Lucas towards the kitchen. Ron was trailing behind his brother, but Lucas still caught his muttering.
“I wasn’t expecting to meet a Malfoy clone in the house, is all.”
“Will you shut up?” growled Charlie.
Lucas only closed his eyes for a moment, pretending not to have heard, and hoped that he would be able to make a quick escape from the kitchen.
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Self-disdain had hunted him into gloomy dreams, blurring the edge between reality and unconsciousness, and Lucas had no idea of how much time had passed when his eyes snapped open. He was instantly wide awake, tense and alert; shaken, as if a Howler had shouted into his ear. But the underground rooms were quiet, the logs of his fire crackling no longer. The carpeted corridor was empty; the many Weasleys must have withdrawn to their rooms hours ago. He listened anyway, and after a short moment it came to him again, with such force that it would surely have knocked him awake if he’d still been sleeping. Now, it pushed Lucas to his feet, his heart beating hard and sharp, and without realising what he was doing or why, he stepped into his shoes and through the door, following the pull of the overwhelming emotion.
It led him outside, and he was powerless, unable to resist the magnitude. For a fleeting second he wondered if Tonks and Remus had joined them at some point during the night; this feeling vaguely reminded Lucas of the pair. But it wasn’t them, that much he knew, for it was fresh and unknown and different, yet mingled with something oddly familiar. If he had stopped to think he would have realised what he recognised, but there was no pausing, no hesitation as he sped blindly through the icy night, towards the glittering orchard where something called his extra sense with the force of a siren.
They would have noticed him, had they not been so preoccupied with the presence of each other. But they felt safe here, safe enough not to pay attention to the moving shadows or the sound of branches creaking upon the wind. Lucas hovered out of the moonlight, failing to catch his breath as Katie brought her hand up to run gentle fingertips along the cheek of the man she loved. His name was unimportant and so was his fame; all that mattered was how every part of his being sang with sensation at her touch. He breathed her name - so quietly that Lucas didn’t hear, but his heart was pierced through with Katie’s joy - before his hands found her face, pulling her closer until his lips could reach hers.
Lucas did not recognise the moment as private. He was not there in his mind; no conscious part of him would have allowed such an intrusion. The gift he carried consumed him completely, drew him to the perfect harmony of emotions like a moth to the brightest of flames, leaving him without the slightest hope or wish to resist it. His eyes closed on their own accord, and he felt no cold as he listened, hearing no words but only the feelings beneath their hushed voices.
“Katie… Please say that you’ll forgive me?”
“What could you possibly need my forgiveness for?”
“For not being there when you were ripped apart and nearly bled to death. Pomfrey didn’t spare me the details.”
“I never expected you to come. I knew you couldn’t.”
“But I should have. I wanted to.”
“I know. Believe me, so did I - especially when Ron’s stupid aunt wouldn’t stop asking about you and saying that you might be - that you were -”
“Shh,” he hushed her softly, and Lucas knew that they had closed whatever little distance that remained between them. Some minutes of silence followed - silence, which held wordless echoes of exhilaration, and whispers of hope.
“Harry -” Her mumbled sentence was cut off by another kiss, and a little amusement coloured the air of irrational contentment. “Harry, why are you here now?”
A pause, when he must have looked at her like she had lost her mind. “For you, of course.”
“I mean, why would you risk it now?”
“What? The Chosen One doesn’t get Christmas off to spend with his girlfriend?”
A small snort followed that. “Be serious, please.”
“We were tired. Hermione and Ron deserved a break and he misses his family, so we decided to go here.”
“But they came without you?”
“We thought it would be better if I stayed out of sight.”
“You mean that you thought that. I can’t imagine that Ron and Hermione would insist on leaving you out in the cold.”
“I’ve got a small camp up in the woods. It‘s not for very long, anyway. We’re leaving in the morning. I shouldn’t even be here now, but knowing that you were in the house, so close, I just -”
“You’re not going to let me go with you, are you?” she interrupted.
“Katie…”
She sighed. “I know.”
Harry Potter’s voice was a little lighter as he changed the subject.
“So, how are you holding up here, anyway? Apart from the vicious aunt?”
“Not bad,” Katie smiled; Lucas felt the expression of the emotion stretch her lovely face, and the nameless reaction that caused Harry’s heart to leap. “It’s been nice getting to know Charlie a bit better. He’s a lot like Ron, you know.”
“Including the appetite?”
“Particularly the appetite,” she answered, and they chuckled in unison.
“Seen a lot of Lupin and Tonks?”
“Not so much. But there’s Lucas, also.”
“Who is he?”
“His name is Lucas Malory. He’s here to escape the Death Eater recruiters, I gather. If you saw him, you’d understand why they’re so interested in him.”
Not until his own name had been mentioned, twice, did some sense of reality return to Lucas, along with the realisation that he was eavesdropping. His limbs ached from crouching so long and so lightly dressed in the December night. Remaining concealed had not been an issue a moment ago in his stupor, but now he began to shiver and his breathing sounded impossibly loud. Forcing his body to backtrack through the frost, he only caught another sentence of Katie’s.
“But, really, aside from that certain family resemblance, he’s very decent.”
By the time Lucas had made it back to the porch, his pulse was beating madly against his eardrums. He felt sickened by his own behaviour, by the pathetic creature he really was. Yet he couldn’t lose himself to complete devastation while all those emotions were still playing back in the orchard; he had never come across anything so strong or so compelling before. Nothing had ever spoken so clearly to that peculiar sense he possessed - never had he been possessed by it. It was still nearly impossible to resist; every little flicker of thought in that direction made him want to crawl back among the trees, to feel that which wasn’t his to experience. Revulsion ripped through him and he found his hands searching the thin robes for his wand. For what purpose he didn’t exactly know, but he knew that he couldn’t live like this, as a hollow and unworthy parasite, wasting space and air that ought to belong to people like Katie Bell and Harry Potter.
But his pockets were empty; the wand must still be by his bed.
He crashed into a chair, forcing down deep gulps of air that threatened to freeze his lungs. The cold and the pain managed to cram some sense into the chaos of his mind and, slowly, his fingers relaxed their iron grip of the wood. Lucas brought a hand to his forehead, wiping the cold sweat off before rubbing at the ache. He knew there must be an objective angle somewhere among his thoughts and he struggled to find and focus on it.
No great secrets had been revealed. He had not overheard anything of special importance. From an objective viewpoint, he had committed no mortal offence. No one even knew, and if he could only get up from this seat and return to his room, no one would ever have to know. But guilt had him petrified in place, still attempting to push him over the edge of sanity.
Thus he was still seated half an hour later when Katie emerged from the trees, and his heartbeats instantly picked up speed. Lucas thought at first that Harry wasn’t with her, but he appeared only a moment later and caught up with her. The porch lights were out, but with dawn about to break upon them, they must still have been able to see him from a considerable distance. To his surprise, neither of them hesitated, but continued to approach him at a steady pace. And as they did, as the peace they emitted reached and included him, Lucas felt himself relax and his breathing grew steadier. The pair climbed the few steps together, and Katie grinned when she met his eyes.
“Good morning, Lucas. Having trouble sleeping?”
He couldn’t resist meeting her elated expression with a smile, because the woman before him was Katie as he had never seen her before - complete, strong, hopeful.
“Yes. And it seems I’m not the only one.”
Her laughter was light. Not carefree, but infected with the same calm joy that surrounded the three of them.
“I’m sure you’ve guessed it, but this is my fiancé, Harry Potter.”
“Nice to meet you,” Lucas nodded, although interesting to meet you or fascinating to meet you both sounded more accurate in his mind.
“You, too,” Harry answered while curling his arm around Katie’s waist. It wasn’t the kind of protective gesture displayed by the oldest Weasley brother the previous morning, but only a wish to be closer, always closer. Lucas also found that the young man was being truthful. He had no objections to meeting a man with Malfoy features here; there was no hostility or distrust in his heart.
“You should go back inside,” he said to Katie, softly.
“I know,” she sighed, entwining her fingers with his. “I’m sure Mrs Weasley has lots of things planned for today. You’d better get some rest as well, Lucas,” she said, turning to him for a moment. “Charlie will be disappointed if you’re not there.”
He made a face and she laughed again, like she could barely contain her happiness at having her love here, however briefly. Not bothered by Lucas’ presence, she leaned in to kiss Harry lightly, and whispered something in his ear that made his heart leap. Her goodbye brushed against his lips, and then they parted.
Both men watched her disappear through the door, and Lucas realised that he was aching for them, the beautiful couple who must be separated by the worst imaginable circumstances. He might well have lost himself to dwelling on their unfortunate fate, but Harry interrupted him.
“So, you like it here, Lucas?”
“Well enough,” Lucas replied, thinking that he couldn’t have admitted a dislike for this place even if he had hated it. Not to Harry Potter, who likely spent his days in very little comfort, fighting for what he believed in. “Your Katie is excellent company, and Charlie’s hospitality makes the situation bearable.”
“Yes… they great, aren’t they, the Weasleys?”
Lucas nodded, and Harry surveyed him quietly for a moment before speaking again.
“But sometimes… Even though they always try to include me… When I see how close they are to each other, it only makes me feel more like an outsider.”
When Lucas looked up, he found Harry gazing thoughtfully at the bleak morning sky. He was calm and steady; a wizard far beyond his young years. In the flash of a second, as Lucas caught a glimpse of the full complexity of Harry Potter’s emotions, he understood why this was the man they were putting all of their hope in. If he had known how to, he would have expressed his admiration.
“Prophet’s early,” Harry observed, nodding to indicate the growing dot of an owl in the sky. They watched together as it soared closer, eventually descending until safely perched on Harry’s outstretched arm. It took off as soon as he had unfastened the tightly rolled-up paper, and Lucas let his eyes follow the bird as it disappeared into the blinding light. Then he turned to Katie’s fiancé, an eloquent question finally on the tip of his tongue. But it faded as he met a solemn expression. The folded morning paper was extended towards him, and Harry’s emotions spoke of a guarded curiosity. Warily, Lucas accepted it, and flipped the front page open.
Beneath the bolded headline, like a reflection only slightly altered, the self-assured face of his father was looking up at him.
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