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Lucius Malfoy (in_deep) wrote in wished,

Lucius took the stairs quietly, and went carefully down the hall in darkness, his wand hidden away in his robes. It was a useless vestige of caution; if she were asleep, she wouldn't wake for him, and if she wasn't, no amount of stealth would see him to bed unchallenged. It may have been no more than an attempt to compensate for the extreme lack of discretion he seemed to be tumbling into, these days. He was still careful enough, of course - always someplace deserted, never twice the same, only generic spells that could be explained away if necessary - but he was doing it all unbidden, which troubled him. He'd done his fair share of violence as a younger man, under orders (usually), but had somehow expected - perhaps because of the long peace that had allowed him to raise his family - that he had left those days behind him. His skills hardly lay in the physical labor ... why his passion was trending there, he couldn't explain. Or didn't care to think through.

He silently unlatched the door, stepped inside the bedroom - and there she was. Not so long ago, he'd have been very pleased to see her waiting up. He walked by her, brushing his hand briefly along the back of her chair and meeting her eyes only in the mirror.

"It's very late," he said with half a smile before stopping at a chair to tug his shoes off, his back to her. "Surely you ought to be in bed?"