Title: Typical Situation
Author: Jinni (druscilla@cox.net)
Rated: PG13
Pairing: W/Lucius Malfoy
Genre: BtVS/HP Crossover.
Disclaimer: All things BtVS belong to Joss Whedon, et al. All things HP belong to JK Rowling, et al.
Distribution: The normal people. No one else. If you don’t think you’re one of the ‘normal people’, then you’re probably not.
Author’s Note: TQC Pairing #38 w/ Scenario #10 and Obj Grp# 1
Notes2: For Qill’s birthday.

~*~*~

The ringing of her cell phone broke through the concentration Willow had strove so hard to work up for the purpose of her spell. She growled, kicking through the chalky outline of her circle with barely a thought to banishing it properly, and grabbed the little bit of electronic annoyance.

“Yes?”

“My, aren’t we in a pleasant mood this morning.”

Willow glanced out her window at the dark sky, completely black and filled with stars. “You’re forgetting the damn time difference again, Dray. It may be after nine in the morning there, but it’s still quite late here. What did you want?”

The man on the other end of the line snorted in amusement. “You’re a bit bitchy today, aren’t you, Rosenberg?”

She raised her eyebrows, pulling the phone back from her ear to glare at it before responding. “You call me up to insult me, Dray? I’m thinking that teaching you the wonders of the phone was a mistake.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She could almost here his smirk. “You know you love me.”

“Tolerate you,” she corrected with a dark laugh. “Now get to the point. I was in the middle of something.”

“Ooo – something nasty?”

“It would have been,” she couldn’t suppress her snarl. “If some annoying blonde twit hadn’t called me!”

“The Slayer’s harassing you again?” He laughed into the phone. “I thought you told her not to call anymore on threat of being hexed to next year?”
“Not ‘an annoying blonde bitch’, Dray. ‘An annoying blonde twit’ – that would be you. What’d you want?”

“Fine, fine. Dad wants to meet you. Says he has a place for you if you’re willing.”

Willow nearly dropped the phone in shock. Since meeting him last year, while feigning her ‘recovery’ from dark magic in the hills of England, Willow had only rarely been shocked by anything the handsome young man said. But this was one of those times.

“You’re kidding, right? Your father, Mister ‘I Hate All Things Muggle-Born’, wants to meet me?”

“You heard me. He seems to think you’ll be an asset since you tried to end the world and all. I tried to tell him that you’re just a bitchy little thing with a bent for destruction, but he wouldn’t listen to me, as usual.”

She blew off his blatantly friendly insult, her mind whirling. “When does he want me there?”

“Today.”

Of course he would want that, she growled silently, glancing at the clock on the wall. One thirty in the morning. She could be there by Noon their time if she started with her apparition now. Never one to want to endure the process of international apparition in one long jump, she preferred to take it in baby steps, making her way across the country before finally taking that last, longer, jump.

“I’ll be there in a few hours.” She mumbled. “Will that be okay.”

“I’ll let father know, Red. We look forward to seeing you.”

“Yeah.” Already she was directing some clothes to be packed into a small overnight bag. “Oh – and Draco?”

“Yes?”

“I’ll get you for that ‘bitchy little thing’ comment when I get there.”

He laughed and the sound was like dark velvet across the phone line.

“I look forward to it.”

~*~*~

Willow arrived at Malfoy Manor a little before Noon local time, taking a moment on the outside edge of the property to utter a few charms for her face and hair. She knew she was looking a little worn – that type of multiple apparition usually did that to her. Most witches and wizards would have taken their time to move across that kind of distance – she wasn’t like most witches, though. She was better, more powerful – and she knew it. The only drawback to using that much energy was the fatigue that inevitably followed.

Her bag was shrunk and in one pocket, leaving her hands free to toy with her wand as she started up the winding gravel-lined path from the front gates to the house. From the outside it looked marvelously impressive, the gothic architecture a true testament to days gone by. The front lawn was filled with sculptures – made of both stone and hedge – in the shapes of fantastical creatures, imbued with bits of magic that made them shift position at times, an ever-changing decoration.

She saw the door open from a distance and forced her face into a mask of indifference.

“You’re early, Rosenberg.”

“By ten minutes, Dray. Calm down.”

He smirked, brushing a kiss across her cheek. “I’m not excited – should I be?”

The wink he threw her was like concentrated seduction, the kind that he gave to women when he wanted to make them melt in their shoes. She wasn’t like that, though; and he knew it. He couldn’t win her over – he had already tried many times. Aside from a few brief romps in the bed, they were nothing more than close friends.

“Not hardly.” She snorted. “I still owe you for being Mister Insulting on the phone earlier.” She bit her lip and looked up at him through her eyelashes. “I’m thinking your eternal soul would be adequate payment.”

He took a step back when she reached out her hand towards his chest, blood-red painted nails scratching lightly over the fabric of his outer robe. She laughed, the sound ringing through the quite lawn, scaring off some larger birds that had been resting on one of the statues.

“I was joking, Dray. Like I’d want your soul.” She smirked. “As if you even have one. I’m planning something more awful for you, my dear, something involving your leg hairs and a roll of duct tape.”

“Ouch!” He grinned with a slight wince as he linked his arm through hers to resume the walk to the house. “Why not just put that Muggle bubble-gum stuff in my hair?”

She turned her head a bit so that he could see the evil gleam in her eyes. “Thanks for the idea, Dray. You’re a great friend.”

He blanched. “I was joking, you know.”

“I know.”

The door swung open as they approached, one of the Malfoy family’s many house elves holding it open as it bowed, nose to the floor.

“The Master is in the sitting room.”

She barely cast a glance at the pathetic little creature as they passed by, hearing the door clicked closed as they stepped into the hallway. The sitting room doors were double and made of a dark wood, polished to a high sheen.

“Now – be a good girl.”

Willow raised her eyebrows at Draco. “You’re not going in with me?”

“Nope.” With a cheeky grin he left here there, in front of the doors.

“Prick.” She muttered, placing one hand on the door knob. Just for that she’d have to remember to carry through with the bubblegum thing next time she caught him asleep. The door swung open at her touch, and she stepped inside, her face carefully neutral. S

Lucius Malfoy, the heir to the legacy the Dark Lord had left behind after his final defeat, stood by the window, staring out over one of the side yards. He turned when she entered the room, the corner of his mouth lifting in an appreciative smile.

“You’re nothing like I thought you’d be. To hear Draco talk I had assumed you were much larger, much more frightening looking.”

She laughed. “Well, Draco does tend to over exaggerate.”

Lucius raised an eyebrow. “That he does. I trust he was not exaggerating when he told me that you are The One? I don’t have any room in my ranks for anything less than that kind of power.”

The One.

That amusing little moniker she had earned after her little ‘end the world’ stint. That’s how they referred to her in the magical world still, despite the pretense she had gone through with Giles. Her supposed ‘rehabilitation’. How easy it had been to convince him and the coven members that she was ‘better’ – that she’d never touch black magic again.

And then they had put her on a place, sending her back to the Hellmouth with their ‘best wishes’. And she had kept up the charade just long enough to find an actual pretense for breaking all of her ties with the losers she had called her friends. And then she had been right back to it. Oh, there would be no more ending of the world for her. She liked this world. It had people she could torture, spells she could do, and wondrous highs to feel when she played with the Dark Arts. Destroying the world would mean an end to all of that.

And she didn’t want that.

“I am The One.” She agreed, taking the seat he gestured to. “And my power is anything but exaggerated. If your ‘ranks’ involve bringing havoc and mayhem to the less powerful – I think I could be up for some fun.”

The smile he gave her then was one she had seen, in a lesser degree, on Draco. It was one that spoke volumes of power and passion. The same kind of look Draco gave her when he was trying to get her into bed and failing miserably.

On Lucius it looked tempting, though. He was living proof that some men got better as they aged. Long platinum blonde hair fell unbound around his shoulders, and his eyes were the same piercing gray as his son’s. He radiated confidence and power, wore it around his shoulders like a mantle.

“I must say,” he murmured, leaning forward so that his elbows were resting on his knees. “That you are much more beautiful than I had assumed you would be.”

She let the corner of her mouth twitch up into a smirk. “And is it my body that you find beautiful, Mister Malfoy, or my power?”

He laughed. “A woman after my own heart. Both. I believe a partnership between us could be. . . mutually beneficial.”

Willow let her eyes drift half-shut, smiling seductively. ‘Mutually beneficial’? Hadn’t she heard Anya refer to that phrase more than once, long ago, in regards to sex and sexual release.

“I think I could be agreeable to a . . . union.”

He stood, crossing the space between them in the blink of an eye. His hand was hard on her arm, pulling her to her feet, their bodies pressed together. His lips were only inches from hers when she lifted her eyes to look at him.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

She laughed, the sound turning to a moan of surprised pleasure when his lips touched down on hers.

Oh yeah, this was gonna be one hell of a ‘union’.

Both in the bedroom, and out.

~*~The End~*~