Chapter 2: Unrest, Part 1

~ Thick in the Summer Air Like Acrid Smoke~

[Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England; July 30th 1996, 11:29 PM]

Lucius Malfoy sat staring into the blazing flames dancing in the hearth of his study, a snifter of brandy held loosely in his right hand. The liquor did little to settle his troubled thoughts. His mind reeled as he recalled the disaster that had been the 'Battle at the Ministry', for what was possibly the hundredth time since the incident. He, for the life of him, could not understand what had come over him when he had first laid eyes on the green-eyed teen during their brief encounter in the Hall of Prophecies. Then to make matters worse, he had saved the boy.

Potter was the enemy…

Potter was 'his' enemy, his mind corrected.

Lucius brought the snifter back to his lips, draining it of its remaining contents and setting it aside before rising to his feet from the plush leather chair he had been sitting in.

He had worked too hard for things to break apart now. Voldemort was convinced of his allegiance as he should be, and Lucius wouldn't let a mere human—a sneer curled his lips in slight disgust at the word—boy ruin what he had worked so hard to obtain. What good would he be to his people if he were found out? Nothing, no good at all; he'd be just a hindrance and nothing more, if not dead for his supposed treachery. They needed him on the inside, just as they needed Severus planted deeply in with Dumbledore; something Lucius could never manage, being unable to overcome his distaste for the old man.

Yet 'it' had happened.

He could have been caught helping the boy. His lapse in judgment could have ruined everything he had worked for. It could have ruined everything theyhad worked for. All their plans, everything, could have been so easily destroyed. Only now, after the battle, did he see the error of his ways.

No error, a small voice in his mind rebelled, but he ignored it.

Potter hadn't even seen the particularly nasty death spell speeding in his direction until it was too late, and before even thinking on his actions, Lucius had knocked the boy out of the way. No one had noticed; no one but Potter, that is… And then, in what he refused to believe was more than just an act of pity, he had cast a silent spell of protection on the boy. By the Saints of Avalon, what had come over him!?

You know, the tiny voice replied, and this, Lucius found, he could not ignore; because yes, he did indeed know.

When he had found the boy in the Hall of Prophecy, it was as if all the air had escaped his lungs only to be replaced by the spicy scent of the green-eyed nuisance. Lucius had been too stunned, by the barely suppressed thrum of excitement in his veins, to even begin to try and speak. The overpowering attraction and want he had felt at that moment when their eyes meet and locked was something foreign to him. It was almost like being spellbound, staring at the boy who stared back with those bottle green eyes of his. He'd never desired another creature nearly as much as he desired the ebony haired teen in that moment. It was unfounded, really; he now rationalized. But was it really?

You know, but you are afraid to admit it, that tiny little voice whispered, and he frowned as he made his way towards the sturdy oak door.

It was impossible really… There was no way that Potter, even if he was a Potter, could be of his kind. The boy had been born bare of any divine blood; the curse of a human mother, Lucius was sure. The Potters had been known for their strong bloodline, but it wasn't strong enough for the late Lord James Potter and his human peasant wife to produce an heir worthy of the Potter line. Such a disappointment, Lucius thought. The Potter brat was no more than human, just like his mother.

But still, there was a moment… His blood had been heated, and his feral side was almost exposed before the small group of children; he had almost growled out his dominance and proven to the young Potter who he belonged to. As absurd as the thought was, the echo of 'mine' still rang within the dark confines of his mind.

Deny as he might, and he would, Lucius couldn't fight the pleased feeling the single word paired with the image of emerald green eyes and an unruly mop of black hair brought to him.

A human… He had never, and would never want a human. So with that thought in mind, he fought valiantly against the part of him that desired the boy and whispered the word 'mine'. Harry Potter, half-blood in all forms of the word, would never be and could never be his.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Lucius left his study in search of his bed, in hopes of sleep that Potter did not intrude upon, which rarely happened these last few days. He yet again tried to convince himself that his desire for Potter was unfounded, and his presumed detestation of the boy did little to keep those thoughts at bay.

He couldn't afford these thoughts… these feelings… Too much relied upon him for him to throw it all away for a human… that human…

Walking down the corridor to his room he hadn't expected to run into Narcissa, who was also in the process of entering her own room. A faint wave of guilt washed over him as she turned to look at him with weary sky blue eyes and offered him a small soft smile. He'd taken so much from her already, and here he was thinking of someone like Potter… a human, none the less… Yes, maybe he and Narcissa were more friends than lovers, but the guilt of thinking of someone in a way he could never think of her lay heavy in his heart.

Oh how easy it would be to just accept her, but he could only push her away. She was beauty and grace, the perfect example of his people. But she wasn't enough. She wasn't his, and he would never be hers. They shared a common bond of friendship and a son, but Lucius would never be able to fully accept her as mate and life partner. The only thing that eased the guilt was that she was the same. It pained him to see her suffer, for she had already found the person she most wished to spend her life, and it was not him. As long as she remained with Lucius she would never be free to love the man her heart desired. Yes, he felt guilt, and she knew. Their years together had taught her how to read him well, not completely, but better than any other.

"Lucius?" Her smile was gone now, and her eyes widened a fraction in worry. Dear sweet and caring creature that she was, she could always tell when he was troubled, and he had been worrying her far too much for several days now.

"I am well." He spoke lies through a softly smiling mouth, knowing that she would not believe them, but she also would not challenge his word. He couldn't tell her what was bothering him, just as she never spoke a word of her own heartache. "Good night to you, lady wife," he continued smoothly, placing a gentle and chaste kiss on her forehead before turning to continue his trek down the long corridor to his own private chambers.

But his steps faltered, and his body went rigid. He couldn't breathe, and he barely heard Narcissa's worried voice over the thrum of a heartbeat awakened in his ears. It was fast, beating rapidly, and he knew without a doubt that it was not his own. His own name echoed as a whispered plea in his ears, and it was not Narcissa that spoke it. There was a faint muffled sound of ripping cloth, but it was the sound of Narcissa's soft gasp of surprise that drew his liquid silver eyes to her, and he came back to himself almost instantly as the voice wavered and faded away.

"Lucius… your-your wings…!"

And sure enough, his shirt was ripped to severely too be called such, and two pure white feathered wings smeared with crimson now cast a haunting angelic silhouette upon the floor. There was blood, but he felt no pain, the transformation being something he'd gone through on several occasions before. He was no longer himself, or rather he was himself but he no longer wielded the human disguise that his kind were known to take during these hard times.

Like an elf from the old religion he stood tall and sinewy, pure hard muscle and lithe frame, with sharp tipped ears and long glistening platinum almost white hair now adorned with the stray pure white of feathers tipped with gold. His liquid silver eyes blazed like smelted metal, the color seeming to almost shift as his pupil elongated to resemble that similar to a cats.

Lucius couldn't speak; the thump of another's heartbeat still beat faintly in his ears. He allowed his eyes to drift closed as he focused on that heartbeat alone, a sigh slipping past his lips.

~ LM/HP ~

He was a sight to behold, all male, dominate and imposing. To see him with his wings flared, no longer in the guise of a human, Narcissa felt her heart skip a beat. This was the man that she had sworn fealty, as had many others. This was the man she accepted as her husband, and she loved him, just not in a way that soothed her heart. He was the father of her child; he was the man she respected above all others, but he was so much more.

"My Lord," Narcissa murmured, reaching out a tentative hand. His molten gaze didn't even waver from where he currently stared ahead, almost as if he could see and hear things that she could not, and she didn't doubt that as being true. Drawing back her hand, she watched as his eyes slipped closed with a soft breathy sigh, before he began to breathe deeply as if in great concentration.

Nothing she said or did could reach him now. Something was going on, something that only he was aware of, and all she could do was wait, wait and hope he confided in her.

~ LM/HP ~

Hermione Granger had just climbed the steps onto the Night Bus and given Stan the address to the Burrow when the feeling of something being horribly wrong washed over her. It was so strong it almost caused her to lose her footing, and she only managed to keep upright by gripping the handrail tightly. When Stan helped her up the rest of the steps while asking her if she was okay, she responded kindly enough that she was fine while shrugging off his hand and changing her destination address to that of Privet Drive.

She had been having 'premonitions', for lack of a better word, lately. Hermione didn't put much stock in 'the way of the seer', but something had been bothering her since the end of the last school year. Something was going to happen; her mind was full of those feelings, omens of impending doom. Something wasn't right and something told her that Harry, her dearest and closest friend, was to be at the center of it all.

The feeling of dread and crushing sadness had made her mind up for her when she had climbed onto the Night Bus. What could it hurt, really? If she went to Privet Drive and found Harry perfectly safe and fine then she could put it to her worrying too much. But what if Harry really were in trouble? She had a gut feeling that he was and that he needed her. What kind of best friend would she be if she disregarded that feeling only to find out later that something had happened, something that she could have possibly prevented if she had only listened to her instincts?

~ LM/HP ~

Lucius had disregarded Narcissa's panicked questions as he prepared to leave the manor. His shirt, useless to him now, lay at his feet as he stood in the foyer wiping the last bit of blood from his wings. His eyes fixed on the dark star riddled skies that were clearly visible through the open front door. It was a clear night, a good night for flying.

"Call Severus," he commanded in a stern voice. He was in full winged-lord mode, earning a nod from his stunned wife. It had been so long since she had seen him like this; so very long since he had fallen into his role as a winged-lord of their kind.

"Of course," Narcissa breathed and turned watery blue eyes on her son who had just entered the foyer still half-a-sleep with a startled look of confusion on his face from seeing his father in such a state.

"Where are you going father? What is wrong?!" Draco asked softly, but Lucius heard and turned his steely eyes upon his son who resembled him in so many ways.

"When my people need me, when they call for me, I will go to them." Lucius said in way of explanation, but knew that Draco didn't really understand. The boy was still so young, and there was so much about his own kind that he did not know.

Exiting the house, Lucius didn't even glance back as he took to the skies, large wings spreading and beating fiercely. He still had enough mind to cast a concealment spell on himself as he flew, following the pull of the heartbeat still keeping a dramatic tempo in his head. As a winged-lord, it was his duty to protect and govern his people, so when one was under extreme duress he would know; although, this usually only applied to those closest to him. This was not just one of his people, he knew. This pull, this feeling of dread and agony, it was so much more than the pull of the divine blood of his brethren.

The Saints, they were laughing at him, taunting him, he was certain. All his life, his long and horribly bare empty life, he had gone feeling half complete. If he were correct, the creature in distress would fill up that void deep within his chest. So clearly, it was ironic. He would finally find his life mate, but be denied them by whatever made their heart flutter like that of a frightened animal. If he were correct in his assumptions and he were too late… If he could not reach them before their heart ceased to beat within his mind, he would forever suffer the condition of being only half of a whole.

~To Be Continued~