Chapter 1: A Painful Error
Things were not happening entirely as Lucius Malfoy had intended.
The Jongwe house had seemed innocent enough when he and his fellow Death Eaters had arrived to carry out their mission. Nothing about its appearance had given anyone cause for alarm; its lights were all off as they should be in the middle of the night, and no one had detected any guards or protective spells in the area. There was no suggestion that the Jongwes knew of their foes' arrival, and even if they did, they were outnumbered two to one. Bellatrix had had enough confidence to set the Dark Mark over the house before the Death Eaters even entered, considering the Jongwes completely oblivious and the job already finished. The four of them had approached the house fearlessly, already thinking about the favor Lord Voldemort would show them after they had removed these two thorns in his side. As a result, they had not been prepared when Yahara and Zebediah Jongwe had ambushed them from behind the front door.
Bellatrix had insisted on entering first, even though the Dark Lord had technically put Lucius in charge of this assignment. Lucius had learned long ago to pick his battles where Bellatrix was concerned, and therefore raised no objection when she magically unlocked the front door and entered ahead of everyone else. Her boldness earned her two Stunning spells sent straight at her chest. She instinctively managed to block Yahara's, but the other jet of red light from Zebediah's wand hit her left arm as she tried to dive out of the way and she fell heavily against the door frame before sliding unconscious to the floor.
Lucius' surprised expression vanished in an instant, replaced by a malevolent scowl as Yahara Jongwe's smoldering dark eyes turned on him. He blocked her next curse just in time, struggling to fight his way into the house so he could get at her more easily. He felt suddenly lucky that the Dark Lord had not asked for the Jongwes alive.
Lucius could hear Rodolphus and Avery shouting curses behind him, aiming for Zebediah, and a flash of green light flew past his ear and into the room beyond. Lucius heard something shatter down the hall, though he couldn't see what it was through the darkness.
Yahara and Zebediah drew closer together as they dueled their three opponents, who were slowly forcing them deeper into the confines of the narrow hallway. Aurors though they were, they were young, and Lucius could see fear dawning on their dark faces as the Death Eaters fought more aggressively. He was the first to step over Bellatrix's unconscious body and enter the house, fiercely firing curses from his wand. Shouts filled the cramped hall, and Lucius soon started to lose track of who was casting which spells – he was so focused on his target that he barely registered the words coming out of his own mouth. Jets of light flew in all directions, and suddenly there was a yell from behind him and he heard something heavy fall to the ground.
The Jongwes took advantage of his split second of confusion to escape up the stairs, and when Lucius attempted to pursue them he was met with a cloud of Peruvian Darkness Powder that Zebediah had deftly removed from his pocket and thrown behind his wife as she followed him. Lucius caught a glimpse of Yahara's dark braids whipping out of sight before the darkness enveloped him and he had to turn back. A flash of red light barely missed him, though it drew a foul curse from his mouth as he whirled around to see which of his incompetent companions had fallen behind him. The powder had filled the entire hallway, and he had to feel his way back through the front door before he could see anything. His heart sank unpleasantly as he heard the distinctive crackthat meant his would-be targets had Apparated away.
When Lucius exited the house he saw that Rodolphus had dragged an unconscious Avery outside and was now leaning over him, frowning and muttering something. Lucius looked around anxiously for any sign of spectators, aware that they had made a considerable amount of noise, but there was no one. The charms they had set around the house before beginning their assault had happily worked, and Lucius was very glad of it – they were already in enough trouble as it was. He momentarily considered reviving Bellatrix, but dismissed the idea just as quickly. He knew better.
"Damn it," Lucius muttered as he approached Rodolphus, cursing his group's carelessness as well as the resourcefulness of the Aurors. "What did they hit him with?"
"I'm not sure, but that's the least of my concerns at the moment," said Rodolphus bitterly. Lucius cursed again and lifted his head to look at the upper story of the Jongwe house. Bellatrix's Dark Mark still hung threateningly over it – although it was no longer the Jongwes that it seemed to be threatening.
"He's not going to be happy," Lucius observed dully, and Rodolphus assented, the beginnings of fear creeping into his voice. He did not have to ask who his companion meant.
Perhaps one of the scariest things about Lord Voldemort's temper was that it was so often predictable.
Lucius Malfoy knew before he even set foot in the darkened estate that the Dark Lord would be livid. He felt like he could sense the raw fury emanating from the ancient manor that was the Death Eaters' center of operations as he approached the front gate. Lord Voldemort was in there now, he knew, waiting for their report, though only to hear the confession from their own mouths – he would already know of their failure. And failure always brought the same thing, which was so predictable, and therefore even more dreadful because of the anticipation that preceded it. By the time Lucius set foot inside the mansion, followed by a revived Avery and Rodolphus carrying his mercifully unconscious wife in his arms, he was trembling.
The hallway that led to the chamber where the Dark Lord met with his servants seemed unnaturally long as they travelled silently down it. Lucius had been in this situation before, but the familiarity made it all the more horrible. He knew exactly what awaited him at the end of that passage, and the thought of it made him mentally grovel to any being that might be listening, praying for lenience and begging for mercy. But none of it made any difference, not here where there was no God apart from the Dark Lord. Lord Voldemort's lenience was brutal, his mercy deadly, and his pity utterly nonexistent.
Lucius knew his master's hatred of begging and groveling, so he tried to show no weakness as he entered the dark chamber. He was not foolish enough to hope that he could avoid punishment, but he was going to do all he could to prevent himself from receiving any more than he had to. He bowed low as he entered, taking care to arrange his features into an expression of reverence. It was his only hope.
"My Lord," he said respectfully as he entered, and he heard the swish of robes as Avery and Rodolphus, rather awkwardly because of Bellatrix's weight, copied him. The tall, hooded figure standing at the head of the room before them flicked his wand and the door closed, bolting itself shut. A shiver went down Lucius' spine that had nothing to do with the draftiness of the hall as the sound echoed through the dimly lit room. He saw several of the other hooded Death Eaters in the chamber shift their feet nervously. For a tense moment there was silence, then Avery flew forward onto his knees and began to do exactly what Lucius had resolved to avoid. All hope of a chance to give any kind of explanation vanished from Lucius' mind as Avery groveled on the floor.
"Master," he sobbed, trembling and looking fearfully at the black tiles under his hands. "Master, forgive me, we were ambushed, we had no way of knowing –"
"Silence!" the high, cold voice said menacingly, and Avery stopped speaking, though Lucius could hear him sobbing faintly. He had been on the wrong end of Lord Voldemort's wrath even more often than Lucius had lately, and his fear was unmistakable.
"You have failed Lord Voldemort once again," the Dark Lord said quietly, and Lucius recognized his tone with dismay. He had expected it, but the quiet, dangerous voice that always preceded Lord Voldemort's fury never failed to terrify him, no matter how much he braced himself.
"Master, I crave your pardon –" stammered Avery.
"I ordered you to hold your tongue!"the Dark Lord hissed, raising his wand high. The bone white fingers contrasted eerily with the surrounding darkness. Avery cringed as the wand lowered slowly, coming to rest barely two inches from the space between his eyes. Lucius had seen this too many times, and he knew what was going to happen a moment before it did: Lord Voldemort drew his wand back and screamed the curse, pouring all his fury into the flash of crimson light that struck Avery full in the face and made him howl in agony. Lucius recoiled from the sight, averting his eyes, wanting dearly to cover his ears and block out the screams that he knew would soon be his own – but he didn't dare to move. After what felt like hours Avery's shrieks died down, replaced by heavy, ugly sobs and retches that shook his entire body. Lucius gathered the courage to look up and saw the Dark Lord glaring pitilessly down at his victim. He ordered one of the other Death Eaters to take Avery out of his sight, and the man nearly tripped over his robes in his haste to obey. He seemed very eager to get out of the room, even if he had to half drag, half carry the weight of a full-grown man through the door with him.
The bolt was lifted so that the two men could leave, but as soon as they had crossed the threshold Lord Voldemort flicked his wand and it fell ominously back into place. Lucius and Rodolphus waited apprehensively, Rodolphus beginning to strain under Bellatrix's weight.
"I find your incompetence disturbing of late, Lucius," said Lord Voldemort quietly, idly twirling his wand through his long, spidery fingers. Lucius momentarily seemed to forget how to breathe. Fear eclipsed every other sensation, and he was barely aware of anything else save the source of his terror.
"Your carelessness has caused yet another delay." Lucius saw the thin, lipless mouth moving long before the words registered in his ears. Fear held him in place more certainly than the strongest chains. He vaguely heard Rodolphus grunting to his right.
"I left you in charge of the simplest of exterminations, and you have disappointed me yet again," the cold voice continued. "This is unacceptable, Lucius. Your incompetence has not only put your own worthless life in danger, but you almost caused me to lose another of my servants tonight." Lord Voldemort's wand gestured toward Rodolphus, who jerked stiffly and carried Bellatrix out of the room in silence. The bolt rose and fell once more, but Lucius did not hear it. Rodolphus' absence only seemed to escalate his fear, and he felt his breath coming in shallow gasps. He tried to tell himself that it would all be over soon, but he could not believe it, not with Lord Voldemort's eyes searing murderously through his own. He could not bring himself to look away from that terrible gaze.
"It would seem that simply torturing you is not enough to get the point across, Lucius," said Lord Voldemort, leering maliciously. The look in his eyes was one of pure, unchallenged evil, and Lucius' knees began to feel weak with panic. What new horror could he have in store, to give him such a demonic gaze?
A soft whimper from somewhere beyond those terrible eyes caught Lucius' attention. It was so quiet that it was barely audible, but something about the sound gave new depths to his fear, though he did not understand why….
Two dark figures emerged from the shadows, robed in black, one pushing the other forward into the dimly lit space between Lucius and Lord Voldemort. The larger one had an iron grip on the smaller, and Lucius recognized the thin, sallow face of his fellow Death Eater as he pushed his captive forward. The taller figure roughly ripped the hood back from the other's face and shoved her into the faint light at the center of the room before receding back into the shadows. Lucius' heart stopped as he recognized the long, white blond hair that framed her terrified features as she looked helplessly up at him.
Narcissa.
Her eyes were wide and confused, silently begging her husband for an explanation he could not give. Her lips formed his name, imploring him to do something, to explain why she was here, to make everything alright again – but he could not. The fear behind her eyes seeped into Lucius' very soul, ripping him apart as they gazed powerlessly at each other. He wanted nothing more than to take the single step that would bring them together, but he stayed in place, for he knew that the horrors Lord Voldemort had in store would only be intensified if he tried to go to her.
Lord Voldemort laughed mirthlessly as he saw Lucius struggling to comprehend, not daring to allow the obvious reason for Narcissa's presence to cross his mind.
"Your own suffering does not seem to motivate you as well as I would like," Lord Voldemort said in his soft, ruthless voice. "I will be interested to see how you respond to hers."
"My Lord – please –" Lucius choked out, but Lord Voldemort's mirthless laugh was the only answer to his futile appeal. The Dark Lord raised his wand, and Narcissa seemed to shrink before him, her eyes filled with a terror Lucius had never seen in them before and never wished to see again. Lord Voldemort uttered the curse without mercy, and Narcissa's terrible scream echoed through the hall as her knees gave way and she fell, her back arching in agony. Her hair flew over her shoulders as her neck snapped backward, and Lucius saw with horror that her eyes were rolling to the back of her head…. He wanted so badly to look away, but he should have known that Lord Voldemort would not allow it; his eyes were locked into place as surely as if they were chained to his wife's writhing form. She hit the floor hard, crumpling in a heap as Lord Voldemort lifted the curse, leering evilly at the helpless woman. The black robe that had been thrown loosely over her for the Dark Lord's sick dramatic effect had begun to fall off, revealing the blue silk dressing gown she had been wearing before she was brought here. Lucius realized that she must have had no warning and been told nothing of her purpose here, and he longed to hold her, to explain this to her, anything to make her stop crying….
Narcissa lifted her head weakly, seeking Lucius' gaze. Lord Voldemort allowed her to find it before raising his wand a second time, and Lucius saw the agony erupt like fire behind her eyes as his curse struck her body once more. Her mouth stretched open in an ear-splitting shriek, and she writhed on the ground as Lucius watched in horror, unable to look away. He felt tears trickling down his face when the curse lifted again, leaving Narcissa curled into a shaking ball at Lord Voldemort's feet.
"My Lord – I beg you –" Lucius whispered pleadingly, but his words were cut short by cold laughter once more. He felt as helpless as his wife, unable to do anything to stop the nightmare that was happening right before his eyes. He felt his wand in his robe pocket, but that was useless; drawing it would only result in his Narcissa's death as well as his own. More tears trickled unbidden from his eyes as she whimpered softly on the floor.
"It hurts, doesn't it?" said Lord Voldemort softly, pointing his wand almost lazily down at the shaking body. She was nothing to him, Lucius realized; torturing her was not only easy, it was enjoyable sport. He was savoring this, delighting in Lucius' horrified expression and desperate pleading, taking pleasure from Narcissa's pain and tears. He smiled mirthlessly, looking straight at Lucius as he pointed his wand at Narcissa once more.
"Crucio!"
Lucius and Narcissa both could only endure, trying in vain to block out the screams and the pain, but the sensations were too vivid to ignore. Narcissa's name escaped Lucius' lips as his knees buckled, and he heard her screaming for him as she struggled in the pitiless grip of the Dark Lord's curse. She lay on her back when it finally stopped, gasping for breath, weeping and calling for her husband in vain. Lord Voldemort stood over her, triumphant, his evil leer making known the pleasure he found in causing others unendurable agony.
"Take care that you have learned your lesson," he said mercilessly, dismissing Narcissa and looking down upon Lucius with no hint of clemency in his face. "Or your dear Narcissa will suffer more of Lord Voldemort's displeasure." He swept past Lucius like a cold shadow, soundlessly unlocking the door and leaving the room. Lucius crawled over to Narcissa as the other Death Eaters followed their master, eager to be clear of the scene that had just taken place.
"Narcissa," Lucius croaked as he reached her, and she turned her head to look at him. Her eyes still held the ghost of the Cruciatus Curse, pained and frightened, and Lucius could hardly bear to look at her. His traitorous thoughts summoned the words to his mind: this was hisfault.He was supposed to be responsible for making sure the Jongwes were out of the way, and he had failed miserably. Hedeserved this, not his beautiful, precious Narcissa…. He had never seen her as weak, but she was not made for this kind of suffering. Lord Voldemort could break her if he wanted to….
Narcissa feebly tried to sit up, but her strained and weakened muscles gave way under her weight. Lucius caught her before her head could hit the cold floor again, and she reached out for him, faintly speaking his name. He held her to him, giving her the only comfort he could offer, blaming himself ruthlessly as she wept quietly in his arms. She closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing. Tears trickled down the sides of her face, and Lucius searched his mind frantically, trying to think of a way to help her. The limpness of her body scared him, and he carefully placed a hand under her knees, lifting her off the floor. Her small hands clung to the front of his robes as he turned on the spot, carrying her away from that terrible room.
They reappeared in their own familiar bedroom, the only place Lucius could think of that might offer Narcissa some comfort. He had wondered briefly if she would want to see her sister, or perhaps her mother or father, but decided against it. He had seen people react like this to the Cruciatus Curse before, and he knew she would recover, but her weakened state still scared him beyond rationality. He loved her, more than he had ever loved anyone, and she was in pain because of him. He wanted to be the one to make it right.
He set her gently down on their soft bed, tenderly prying her fingers from the front of his robes. She opened her eyes halfway as he pulled the covers around her, warming her body after the chilling cold of the dark chamber they had just left. Lucius lovingly tucked a lock of hair behind her ears, leaning down and kissing her forehead as he did so. Her faint smile reassured him that she would be alright, and he turned to go with the intent of letting her sleep away the pain alone. He could not imagine that she would want him there with her, after he had stood and watched Lord Voldemort torment her with more pain than she had ever felt in her life. He did not expect her to understand why he couldn't help her, or forgive him for not trying. But she surprised him.
"Lucius," she called quietly, and he turned back to her.
"Yes, my love?" The words caught in his throat. My love.How could he say that after what he had done to her? He could rationalize it all he wanted and justify it any way he liked, but he had stood there and watched her suffer for hismistakes like a pathetic, miserable coward. He deserved a hundred times the torture she had been through.
"Stay."
It was a request, not a command, and her quiet voice melted Lucius' resentment for himself. He was sure it would come back to him later, when he was alone, but for now all that mattered was that his Narcissa needed him, and he would be there for her. He owed her that much.
He climbed into bed beside her, and she snuggled against him as he took her in his arms. He gently stroked her hair, willing any remnants of her pain to go away. He felt her relax as he held her, and somehow her presence soothed him just as much as his comforted her.
"Lucius?" she murmured softly after a few minutes.
"Yes, Narcissa?"
"I love you."
Lucius' throat clenched painfully as she closed her eyes and her breathing became slow and even. He had been stripped of all his usual strength, and more silent tears flowed down his face and into Narcissa's hair as she slept. His days as a Death Eater had in no way been easy, but he had never given in like this before. It had always been dangerous for him, and he considered himself lucky that Narcissa loved him enough to stand beside him anyway. Butshe had done nothing to deserve a Death Eater for a husband, especially one whose blunders resulted in her own suffering. And as Lucius drifted off to sleep, he couldn't help but feel that he didn't deserve her, either.