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Yes, she thought fiercely, of course I understand, I understand everything, I've understood it all since I was born, that you are infinitely less clever and less interesting and less accomplished and less less less than I but because you have money, because you have charm, because you have a name that means something a... |
"Yes," she managed quietly, and Lucius nodded, satisfied. |
"He'll be pleased with you, I'm sure," he assured her, with something she might have called kindness if she hadn't had the distinct sensation that he was talking about some sort of prized bird, or a particularly adept hunting dog. "Don't be nervous." |
He, however, clearly was, sweat glistening in beads from his brow as he stooped to kiss her cheek. He brushed his lips against her skin so absently she wondered if he knew he were doing it. |
"I'll come fetch you when he's ready," Lucius said, already adrift with nerves, and slipped out through the doorframe. |
He'd fetch her, her mind echoed. |
She bristled, shoving it aside. |
She stood in the magic castle built by the man who called himself a Lord and wanted to laugh at the foolishness of what the world had come to. The arrogance of it was palpable, and her displeasure at the absurdity and the inanity and the inequity manifested as a fidget in her limbs, her fingers tapping helplessly again... |
The sky outside was more than grey; it was thick and viscous, stained that strange, smoky plum-tinted red. The color of unease, were she to put it on a palette, and she could no more stand the walls around her than she could stand living in Lucius" home. |
He'd said to wait here, she thought with displeasure, eyeing the door. |
She'd never done well with direction. |
And it wasn't as if she'd go far. |
Her heels tapped lightly against the smoothly polished stone floors, as dark and shadowed as the cliffs outside. If she closed her eyes, she could hear the crash of the waves; she could hear, too, the percussive rush in her veins, hear her mother's voice shouting SIT DOWN NARCISSA, CHILD DO AS YOU'RE TOLD, that was qui... |
The sounds of progress, of freedom, of rebellion. |
Where was she? The corridors were labyrinthine; not that it mattered. What would Lucius do, anyway, if she weren't there when he came for the fetching? He couldn't un-marry her. Not without oaths, binds, spells. Not without humiliation. He didn't seem the punishing type, either, though she couldn't necessarily be sure.... |
In the ominous unease of her thoughts, she paused beside an open door, almost missing it in the darkened corridor. |
As she turned her head, however, the door seemed to give way, beckoning her inside. |
The inside of the room was unremarkable; it didn't have the finery of the room she'd been left in, which had been full of books and artefacts and paintings, sundry landscapes of foreign places she'd never been and would likely never see. That room had been grandiose to make her feel small, she was sure, but she was eas... |
A single white flower. |
A small jar of nightshade. |
Three neatly arranged slivers of wood. |
A vial of crimson liquid. |
She gasped, recoiling, and faltered with her footing; she felt fingers close around her arm and froze, her suspended breath swelling painfully in her lungs. |
"Careful," a man's voice warned, and she aimed her chin over her shoulder slowly, taking him in inch by inch. |
She saw him in snippets first; in flashes, as if he were too much to take in all at once. His jaw, firstly, smooth and carved and jutted out as his teeth shifted, his lips stretching just enough to accommodate an uptick of something like amusement. His nose was straight and angular, his cheeks lean and cleanly shaven, ... |
Still, she thought, blinking. He wasn't unlike the waves. |
"I take it you are Bella's sister," he said neutrally, releasing her as she pivoted sharply to face him. "This isn't exactly how I was expecting to meet you, but I have to admit some curiosities." |
He wasn't as old as she thought he would be. True, wizards aged slowly, but even so; he had a youthful look to him, though he was clearly older than her husband, and perhaps even as old as her father-in-law. |
She'd half-expected to see him in emperor's robes, openly playing at tyranny, but instead he wore a plain, crisp white shirt, tucked into black trousers and emphasizing the leanness in his hips, along his torso, in the lines of his forearms. His movements were smooth and unconcerned, unhindered, and she, uncomfortably,... |
Abraxas Malfoy did not look like this. |
No man she'd ever seen looked like this. |
"You must be Bella's keeper, then," she returned plainly, and his mouth curled up at the corners. |
"She isn't kept," he replied. "Are you kept by Lucius?" |
She wished she could've held her tongue. |
"Aren't I?" she prompted. "In a sense." |
To her surprise, he chuckled. It was strange to see him express amusement; Lucius was so skittish when speaking of him she wouldn't have guessed him capable. |
"I would have thought you'd aim higher," he said. |
She was conscious enough of her own qualities not to ask why. |
"I thought Lucius served you well," she remarked instead, and he nodded. |
"He does. Does it please you," he ventured slyly, "knowing you married a servant?" |
"One of my sisters married a rat," she replied, "and the other a fool. If I married a servant, then so be it. Considering the trajectory, I might have done a lot worse." |
He laughed heartily this time, his head falling back, and then he swept a hand through his black hair, shaking his head. |
"Ah, so she can play," he murmured, shaking his head. "I suppose I misjudged you, then." |
"Happens often," she replied, and his tongue passed over his lips as he nodded slowly. |
"I imagine so," he agreed. "I'll make sure not to make the same mistake twice. I don't suppose you'll apologize," he transitioned smoothly, "for interrupting my work?" |
"Is that what you call this?" she prompted skeptically, fighting a shudder at the sight of the bone on the table. "I thought your work was something of a more ... political nature," she managed, and he laughed again. |
"I dabble," he said simply. "And about that apology?" |
She hesitated; she had meandered in, poking around in his things. |
"I'm sorry," she permitted. "That I interrupted you, and that I entered without permission." |
"No, no," he corrected, shaking his head. "Just the interruption. You were invited in. The door," he explained, gesturing to it, "wouldn't have opened for you otherwise." |
"I—" she frowned. "The door?" |
"Sentient castle, in a sense," he clarified, waving a hand to blindly reference the walls. "Does my will rather exclusively, however. Not quite refined enough to have any direction of its own, so I expect this means I wanted you to come here." |
"We've never met," she reminded him, and he shrugged. |
"Then maybe the castle is maturing," he remarked, turning back to the cauldron. "Are you familiar with this type of magic?" he asked, without looking at her. "I know the Black family is quite advanced in the arcane." |
"You mean the Dark Arts," she said, clearing her throat, and this time he glanced up, settling his gaze on her face. |
For a moment he simply stared at her, contemplating something; she stared back, not wanting to be the one to cave. It wasn't until he took three strides towards her, his movements feline and coiled and swift, that she noticed the slim, silver dagger in his hand, only registering danger when she couldn't possibly have e... |
"Magic is magic," he said quietly, "just as blood is only blood." |
He took her hand left hand in his and sliced it, slitting the skin of her hand so quickly she felt no pain, and she let out a sound that was half gasp, half wordless shriek; he, consummately unbothered, held the dagger out for her free hand, waiting for her to accept it. |
"Now you," he beckoned, and she, obviously lost to madness, accepted the blade by its gilded handle, curling her fingers around it. |
She swallowed hard, holding her breath, and he placed his left palm out for her to do the same, letting it float expectantly between them. She glanced down and froze, distracted by the line that curved around the center of his palm; or rather, what should have been a line. In place of one was splintered web—tiny, slive... |
He waited, and though she knew well enough what was expected of her, she gripped the dagger hesitantly, fighting the urge to drop it and run. |
Instead, wordlessly, she stabbed the knife directly into his palm, piercing the burst of fissured lines with her fingers still wrapped securely around the handle of the dagger. He jerked away in pain, his beautiful mouth coiling around surprise, and betrayed a sound of obvious, startled anguish, escaping in a gasp from... |
"Don't you ever," she told him flatly, "fucking stab me again." |
His eyes widened. |
Then he laughed, and she blinked with alarm, releasing the dagger and staggering away, her fingers curling protectively around the still-bleeding wound on her palm. |
"Come here," he instructed curtly, yanking the dagger from his hand and holding it over the cauldron, letting three drops of his own blood fall into whatever nightmarish creation he'd been pursuing. "I won't hurt you," he assured her, placing his bloodied dagger on the workbench. "I just want you to see." |
She kept her distance, uncertain, and he sighed, stepping towards her. |
"Look," he said, holding his hand out, and gestured for her to do the same. "Blood is blood. You and I, we share mortality, we share chemistry," he explained softly, and she looked down, eyeing the viscous stains on their palms, as deep and rich as her mother's garnets she'd so envied as a child; as dark and textured a... |
She waited, saying nothing. |
"Dark or light, it means nothing. Magic is magic. Blood is blood." He waved his hand over her palm, renewing the surface of it so effortlessly she could not have possibly believed it had ever been opened; as if all of this had only been a dream. "To romanticize either, or to forbid either, is to waste time with minutia... |
She paused, shaking her head. |
"That isn't what you teach your followers," she said hoarsely, and his lips curled up in amusement again. |
"I doubt they'd take kindly to the details of my work," he said. "In the end, I find there's more value in their loyalty than in the grasping of my vision." |
"What if their loyalty corrupts your vision?" she asked, and he tilted his head, the smile slowly falling away. |
"I suppose it's my job to prevent that, isn't it?" he supplied neutrally, though she had the strange sensation he was avoiding an answer. "Anyway, as you say, I'm pursuing a variety of avenues. This is one of them," he explained, "though a private one." |
"Odd that you'd share it with me, then," she commented. "Does my sister know about this? Or Lucius?" |
"For them, this room does not exist," he replied easily, shrugging it away as if it were nothing, though she could see in the way he didn't meet her eye that he clearly felt otherwise. "Now," he pronounced, "are you coming? I'm told I have the dreary misfortune of meeting Lucius Malfoy's new wife. Poor thing," he mused... |
"How do I get back to where I was?" she asked, gesturing to the door. |
He smiled; it was purposeful, deliberate. Unlike Lucius he studied her carefully, every motion of his gaze calculated to take her in. |
"Isn't that the eternal question," he remarked, more to himself than to her. |
"My Lord," Lucius said, bowing low. "I'd like to present my wife, Narcissa Malfoy, the youngest daughter of Cygnus and Druella Black." |
"Ah yes, Narcissa," the Dark Lord replied, surveying her from where he sat at the head of the room, his eyes glinting in the firelight. "Tell me, Lady Malfoy, are you pleased with your visit?" |
She could see Lucius" eyes flash warningly, and she let out a breath, forcing a smile. |
"Yes, My Lord," she replied. "Of course." |
"Will you return, then?" he asked, and she blinked at that, surprised. She glanced at her husband for confirmation as he hurriedly stepped forward, bowing again. |
"If My Lord wishes it, I would be happy to have my wife accompany me on my visits," he assured Lord Voldemort, and the other man nodded. |
"You should stay the night," he suggested dispassionately, waving a hand. "Spare you the return in the morning." |
Lucius looked surprised, but to Narcissa's dismay, he also looked obscenely delighted. |
"Yes, of course, My Lord," he said, answering for them both. |
Narcissa, meanwhile, wondered what her answer would have been. |
No, she thought firmly, but felt the tremor of a lie. |
She touched her left palm behind her back, pressing her fingers against it. |
"I thought you might find your way back here," he said, glancing up as she entered. "Couldn't sleep?" |
I could have, she thought. I just didn't want to. |
"You know, it's funny," he continued, not acknowledging her silence, "I can't read you the way I can read Bella. Her mind is noisy, clanging all the time. She has so many wants, so many needs, so many desires. I find it overwhelming; when she's with me, I long for silence." He looked over at her, eyeing her. "Your mind... |
Instantly, she swept it from her features, painting herself a mask. |
"You didn't tell my husband that we'd already met," she commented. "You invited us to stay the night. I'm not an idiot," she informed him pointedly. "I just wanted to tell you that I won't be whatever my sister is for you." |
To her surprise, he nodded. |
"Good. Now that that's been addressed," he said, gesturing her to come closer, "we might discuss an arrangement. A working arrangement," he clarified, catching the narrowing of her eyes. "I have quite another thing in mind for you." |
She swallowed, stumbling on a mix of disappointment and surprise. |
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