The Voldemort Diaries—Chapter 29 (My Brother's Keeper)
September 12, 1973
Voldemort had used Legilimency on Bella more than once, not that the wench objected. It thrilled her to have him inside her mind, among other places. While there, he'd seen her husband Rodolphus on occasion, yet to meet him in person felt wholly different. Not in a good way.
Before the dark lord stood Rodolphus, clean shaven, his long dark hair curling at the collar, hands in his pockets, casually shifting his weight onto one leg. He seemed oblivious to the fact that he was in the presence of the greatest dark wizard ever to live, which irked Voldemort more than a little. Damn it all, the man looked downright bored.
Well, that just wouldn't do, would it? Lord Voldemort advanced on him slowly, studying him, searing him with a singularly hateful glower that made Lestrange swallow and stiffen his spine. It did Voldemort's heart good. Apparently Bellatrix had regaled her husband with the exploits of her master, and he was beginning to experience the appropriate deference.
"Rodolphussss," he hissed, circling the fellow like a vulture, "Bellatrix tells me you embrace our goal of dominating muggles."
"Yes, I do," answered Lestrange haltingly, no longer able to pull off a nonchalant stance. He glanced at Bella, whose gaze was lovingly locked on her master. "They're vermin who need to be eliminated."
"And you're willing to do it?" goaded Voldemort. "Have you ever killed a muggle?"
Strangely awkward pause. "No, sir," admitted Lestrange.
"Why are you here?" Voldemort's voice had hardened as his glare continued to pierce Lestrange's soul.
In an uncharacteristically bare squeak, Rodolphus replied, "I want to join you, join your group. I want to get rid of muggles and mudbloods—"
"Spare me!" barked Voldemort, and Rodolphus fell silent. The dark wizard fixed his red eyes on the young man's, enjoying the panicked vibes emanating from him. It was like honey on his tongue, the sweet taste of fear. And because Rodolphus was afraid, like so many others the dark lord had read, the first images to surface for his viewing pleasure involved instances in Lestrange's life when he'd felt similar emotion.
One he found of particular interest swam into the front of Rodolphus' mind, and the dark lord latched upon it. There was Claudius, his old school companion and loyal disciple…recently deceased in a freak accident while drunk. Pity. In the coming war, Claudius' skills would have come in handy.
He probed deeper into the memory…Rodolphus was a boy of fourteen. There was another boy—by the looks of him, a brother—about twelve years of age. Yes, the name surfaced: Rabastan. They had their wands out, and at first Voldemort thought they might be dueling, but no…
"Reparo," said Rodolphus, pointing at a shattered glass bauble on the floor of what appeared to be a study. The article had apparently fallen off of the large, heavy mahogany desk littered with papers and quills, with an overturned bottle of black ink oozing over them. Voluminous black velvet drapes over the windows blocked most of the light, making the room dim and rather gloomy. An ancient tapestry over the marble fireplace trumpeted the Lestrange family crest. The place might have felt cozy were it not for the lack of light and the reek of Dark Magic coming from the broken object on the wooden floor.
The spell hadn't worked. Rodolphus aimed his wand again and fairly shouted, "Reparo!" Nothing. He lifted his face to the younger lad, his eyes filling with dread. "It's not working. We can't wait for Uncle Varden to get home, we have to tell Dad."
"No!" the other boy howled, starting to tremble. "I didn't mean to do it, Dolph. It rolled off the desk, it just fell, but he won't care—" His voice cut off in a choked sob.
"You shouldn't have been in here, stupid!" Rodolphus bellowed back, sending his brother into hysterical weeping as he bolted from the room. Feeling a pang of remorse, he ran after the lad, grabbed his arm, and twirled him around. The utter despair mingled with tears that greeted him made his stomach clench. "Rabby, I'm sorry. Go to your room and stay there. I'll tell Dad…I'll say I did it."
Rabastan's eyes grew wide. "You can't! He'll beat you! You know what he said he'd do if he caught one of us in there."
Dolph took a long, resolute breath, and nodded. "I know. But…" This wasn't one of the trivial infractions Rabby was often punished for; this constituted a major transgression. They'd been forbidden to enter the study, the place where most of the Dark items were housed. That, combined with the fact that Rabby was not a favoured son, made the decision uncomplicated, if unpalatable. The overriding thought in his mind was that their father could well kill Rabastan, or at the very least whip him to a bloody pulp. He couldn't stand by and let it happen, not to his baby brother. "He'll not be too harsh with me. I'll be alright."
Rabastan hesitated, obviously hating to let his brother take the blame in his stead, yet fully aware that if the truth came out, he wouldn't be walking away when his father was through with him. "I'm sorry, Dolph," he whispered. "I just wanted to get some ink."
Rodolphus forced a lopsided grin. "It doesn't matter. Now go."
He turned and strode purposefully down the hall in the opposite direction, looking back once to assure himself that Rabby had gone. He found his parents in the sitting room, drinking wine and making small talk; he stood in the doorway, waiting to be acknowledged.
"Roddy, what is it?" asked his mother.
"I need to talk to Dad," he answered in a controlled, low voice. "I had an accident…in his study. It fell—"
At the mention of 'study', Claudius leaped from his chair. By the time 'It fell' had escaped his lips, Claudius was dashing for the door. He pushed past his son in his rush down the hall. A string of roared profanities reverberated through the house upon his discovery of the destroyed item, and a few minutes later he came stomping back, where his boy waited stoically for him.
"Claudius, what's the problem?" said his wife. She seemed astonishingly unconcerned and unruffled, despite his evident fury.
The man replied to her while glaring at his son. "Roddy smashed one of my rare artifacts. I had to clean up the Dark Magic before it spread over the house. If he hadn't told us right away, we may have all been poisoned by morning."
"You're not supposed to be in your father's study," the witch murmured, taking another swig from her goblet. No wonder she was unconcerned, she was half crocked!
Claudius turned his full attention to his progeny, shouting, "Do you understand how dangerous that globe was? Do you? If you'd stayed in there more than a few minutes, you'd be dead! It could have killed you!"
Rodolphus didn't bother to protest or argue, which would only have infuriated the man even more. He dropped his head and let his father vent his anger, and when Claudius gripped his arm to drag him to his bedroom, he went along quietly. He meekly accepted the vicious blows of the belt rained on his backside, making his tears wash down his cheeks. After his father left the room, he crawled up onto the bed, face down, and lay there for a long time. Rare were the occasions when he was the recipient of a beating, but it didn't matter. Rabby had been spared; nothing else mattered.
Voldemort rifled through Rodolphus' memories for several more minutes, before hissing into his ear, "You tell me what you think I want to hear. Am I a fool? Can I not wander through your feeble mind at my leisure? You wish more than anything to spend more time with your wife, and being here serves that purpose. Yet you dare lie to me!"
For a long moment, Rodolphus did nothing more than gulp and gape. It unnerved him how easily the dark lord read his thoughts. "But—but it's true. I do hate muggles!"
Voldemort smiled—that is, he curled his almost non-existent lips upward into a mocking caricature of a smile. "Prove it. Take Bellatrix along as a witness. Kill a muggle for me, and then we'll talk." He turned on his heel and walked to a nearby armchair, waving his hand imperiously to send them away.
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September 19, 2000
Sept. 13, 1973
A new member has entered the fold today: Rodolphus Lestrange, husband to Bellatrix. He has Claudius in him, certainly. He is skilled in the Dark Arts, and despises muggles as much as anyone I've met, perhaps more than most. His great weakness, his love of his younger brother, is something I may be able to exploit in the future.
He will do whatever it takes to accomplish his goal, which is an admirable asset. To prove himself to me, yesterday he took Bellatrix with him in search of a muggle to murder. He found one in a dirty, stinking alley, for they came back smelling of vomit and rubbish. Bellatrix tells me he didn't flinch in his duty, he made short work of the muggle. I like that attitude in my minions. I suspect those like Malfoy will never attain the ability to kill wantonly…more's the pity.
Severus set down the diary on his desk. He was well aware of Claudius Lestrange's behaviour toward his sons—Roddy had been the pampered prince, Rabby the whipping boy. Never having known Dolph to be selfless, it truly surprised Severus to witness Dolph sacrifice himself, yet at the same time he recognized how natural the action was. Wouldn't Severus have done the same for his own brother or sister? Why then should it be any different for Dolph, who made no secret of the love he bore for his brother? Rab was probably the only person on Earth that Dolph held in such high regard.
He leaned back in his chair, lost in thought. Had Voldemort demanded Rodolphus kill a muggle because of what he'd done for Rabastan? A perverse act of atonement, so to speak, to negate the good in him? As pathetic and warped as it sounded, he wouldn't put it past the dark lord.
"Are you almost ready?" Aline appeared in the doorway, carrying one infant in her arm, the other in a sling across her chest.
Getting up and hurrying to her, Severus lifted the tot out of her arms to cradle him lovingly to his chest. "Darling, when you need help, you need only say the word."
"You were busy," she said simply. Caring for two tiny babies by herself while her husband read the diaries was a small price to pay to bring him one step closer to complete healing. She bent down to coo at Aidan, "And my babies are such good little angels, aren't they?" He gifted her with a big, toothless smile.
Severus smiled as he watched her interact with their son; he loved to watch Aline with the boys. God in heaven, he loved them all so much! His hand slid around her waist. "I'm ready. We'd better go before I decide to ravish you."
"Dr. Livingston said I have to wait at least four weeks," she replied, cocking her head to look up at him, her brown eyes twinkling. "Try to control yourself."
"Yes, that's always been my fatal flaw—my lack of self-control," he answered dryly. "He didn't say anything about snogging you silly." Pushing against her lower back, he guided her to the fireplace, draped his cloak over Adriel to keep the soot away, and stepped in. "See you on the other side."
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He just had to stir up the pot, didn't he? Rabby had come home earlier than expected from his date with Livonia, and had stomped right to his room to brood. (His younger brother had always been a brooder, unlike himself, who let most things roll off his back.) Dolph should have let it go when Rab was crabbing around the kitchen the next morning, but did he? Of course not! He just had to stick his sarcastic comment in there and blow open Rab's veil of self-restraint.
He absently stroked at the small mustache he'd grown shortly after his face-altering surgery. "Whatsa matter, Rab, didn't you get any last night?"
It was an innocent enough jibe, from Dolph's perspective, so why Rabby got all bent out of shape was a mystery. Hardly deserving of the retort that he ought to perform unnatural—and frankly impossible—acts upon himself…or perhaps his mother…or both. Anyway, the reaction seemed strangely vitriolic, considering Rabby was quite familiar with his brother's sense of humour.
Dolph wandered down the short hall to Jorab's bedroom. The door was closed; he'd known that before he got here, for the slamming of it resounded through the house. Was it wise to pry open the subject, the reason for Rabby's tantrum, and pick at it like cold, dried spaghetti stuck to a plate? Probably not, but that wasn't going to stop him.
"Rabby, quit acting like a pissant!" he called through the door. "Open up." A thud of something heavy striking the door made him start, but he held his ground. "I've got my wand to your cat's head. If you don't open the door, Firebolt gets it."
A second later, the door was wrenched almost off its hinges by a spell, and Jorab marched up to face his brother, his wand twirling ominously in his fingers. "Sadistic much? Firebolt is sleeping on my bed, you dumb shit. Is that the best you could do?"
"I've been called worse. And it worked, didn't it?" Dolph replied, grinning as he shoved his way into the room. Sure enough, the orange feline was curled beside the pillow; it opened one eye sleepily at the intrusion, recognized the other human, and promptly went back to its slumber.
Jorab heaved a sigh and followed his brother in. He sat on the foot of the bed while Dolph took the armchair next to the window. "If you're gonna be a pain in the arse, don't bother. I'm really not in the mood."
"Sorry. That effervescent greeting earlier had me fooled," Dolph responded drolly. "What happened last night?"
"It was supposed to be the night Liv and I…you know…for the first time—"
"You haven't been shagging her?" Dolph interrupted, his countenance bearing signs of incredulity.
"I'm not you, I don't bonk every woman who smiles at me," retorted the other. "As I was saying, we'd planned to, but that little wanker son of hers got upset about me dating her. After he left, she says—get this—we ought to slow things down! Bloody hell, how much slower can we go?"
"Not too much," agreed the elder .
"And," Rab continued, now that he'd got his blood up and was on a roll, "the bastard actually threatened me! Can you believe that?"
To be honest, it wasn't exactly easy to believe. Bayly was a reserved, albeit good-natured kid, as far as Dolph knew…then again, he had that protective streak in him. And the one he'd likely feel the need to protect would be his mother. Dolph could hardly fault him for that. In a mocking laugh, he said, "Are you scared of the wee boy?"
Rab scowled back at him, not deigning to dignify such a ridiculous question with an answer. "What the f—k is his problem? He warns me not to hurt his mum, as if I would."
Dolph shrugged and leaned back in his chair, interlocking his fingers over his stomach. "From his standpoint, you're horning in on his mum, and he doesn't know jack shit about you."
"Except that I was a Death Eater," mumbled Rabby.
"Oh, goody. The one thing he knows, he can use against you."
Jorab's eyes narrowed as his hand unconsciously stroked the purring kitty. "I'd stake my life Bayly was a Death Eater, too. Any son of Dolohov's is going to be Marked! Snape had no problem talking to him about the old castle and its hidden room—and Malfoy wouldn't have included him in guarding Snape with all of us around unless he already knew about the castle and what we were."
"True," said Dolph, nodding slowly. Malfoy wasn't one to divulge information on a whim, nor was Snape. That had to be solid reasoning behind it. "But he's too young—I mean, he couldn't have been more than seventeen when Voldemort fell. If he was Marked, it couldn't have been for very long. Besides, I think it's safe to say if he became one of us, it wasn't willingly. He's too nice."
"You're taking his side now?"
"I'm not taking any side!" Dolph snapped. "Maybe instead of pouting in here, you should be thinking of ways to make Bayly like you and trust you."
"You mean like the Imperius?"
"Oh, my God, you're turning into Marshal!" exclaimed Dolph, shaking his head in exasperation. "By all means, use the Imperius—if you want to seriously piss off Snape and Malfoy. Sure, you can hold your own with Lucius, but Snape would make cat food out of you."
Rabby fixed him with a withering glare, his cropped dark hair, dark eyes, and strong jawline forming a near mirror to his brother's. "I wouldn't do it! You're the one—oh, never mind."
He slumped back against the wall, his feet extended over the edge of the bed. How was he supposed to make Bayly like him? He didn't know how to make friends; his friends had typically been Dolph's comrades or other Death Eaters, which didn't necessarily qualify. He'd never been outgoing, nor ever been really close to anyone—only Dolph. And now Liv. He felt for her like he'd never felt for a witch in his life; they could talk about anything, it seemed like they'd known each other forever. If he didn't do something to change the dynamics in this relationship with Bayly, he might end up losing Livonia, and he didn't think he could cope with that.
"Oh, great guru, what do you suggest?"
Dolph sat up straight, smiling. "I'm glad you asked…"
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The playroom of Malfoy Manor, like everything else in the place, was a model of exquisite design and over-the-top functionality. Not only did the room encompass a space large enough to house…well, a full-sized ordinary house, it incorporated fantastic elements found only in the most lavish of domiciles—like the forest, for example. Not a real forest in the sense of being outside, but real in the sense of actual dwarf trees and plants grown in soil, watered by elves, and nourished by sunshine coming through the thick, glass ceiling.
In another quarter of the room, situated near the forest, was a village of child-size dwellings around the nucleus, a miniature castle. True, the castle was only large enough for three or four occupants at a time to play in, but it had a drawbridge and two tall turrets. The rest of the space consisted of a huge, empty play area for whatever games the children could devise, with loaded bookshelves, toy boxes full of balls and play swords and dolls and all sort of delightful things. All in all, it was a child's dream room.
Ladon weighed the green rubber ball in his hands; it wasn't heavy, though his arms couldn't fully encircle it. "Khala!" he called.
The nine-month-old girl crawled over to him, grinning excitedly.
"Catch," he said. "Sit."
Unaware that her brother, for lack of an adult vocabulary, was speaking to her like a dog, the baby obediently flopped back on her nappied bum and thrust out her stubby arms. Ladon lobbed the ball at her. It struck the top of her head and bounced off, knocking her onto her back. The boy erupted into a belly laugh, and Khala joined in, rolling on the floor and giggling.
"Babies needs play nice," Cinchona warned the children. She trotted across the floor to pick up the ball, which she held out to Ladon. "Master Ladon plays nice with Miss Khala, yes?"
Ladon patted Cinchona's head in an imitation of the way Fa'er did, but using his flat palm with the awkwardness of a twenty-month-old child. It looked particularly silly since the elf was a mere two inches taller than he was. "Cinchy good elf. Ladon good boy." He snatched the ball and tossed it at his sister again. It smacked her full in the face, sending her toppling onto her back again, only this time she began to wail.
Ladon looked on, wide-eyed, as Cinchona helped the girl to a sitting position. His grey eyes grew to enormous proportions at the sight of blood trickling from the girl's nose. The elf wiped at it with a dry cloth she'd pulled from a pocket of her tea towel.
"Naughty Master Ladon," she scolded. A flick of her finger sent the ball hovering near the ceiling. "Cinchona gets water. Master and Miss must behaves!" The elf scampered into the adjacent bathroom to wet her cloth, as Khala continued to scream.
Ladon watched the elf, his little lips puckering into a pout. Daft, mean elf took his toy! Mama and Fa'er would hear of this! Well, he certainly wasn't going to hang around here where meanie-elf was. He took off at a run to the other side of the room, into the mini-village. He hid behind the hut closest to the wall, and peeked round the side.
Cinchona dabbed the cloth at Khala's nose as the tot wriggled and flailed and sputtered. From his hiding place, Ladon eyed his sister, and a bad feeling came into his tummy. Did he do something bad? He didn't intend to, he was a good big boy, like Fa'er said. What if Fa'er got mad? What if Fa'er didn't want to hug him or play with him anymore? His lips started to tremble.
"Master Ladon!" Cinchona squeaked. Lifting herself onto tiptoes, she scanned the room for the lad.
Ladon crept backward on hands and knees. No, he wouldn't go out there to Cinchy so she could be a poopie-head to him. He'd live here in the tiny houses till Mama and Fa'er came to get him. As he groused to himself, he continued to crawl backward, not noticing when his foot went directly into the wall, then the other, his rump, and finally the rest of him.
"Master Ladon!" the elf bellowed, looking desperate.
Fine, let her look. He was good at hiding, he snickered to himself. The elf rounded the room, lugging Khala in her arms. She peered through the forest, and bent down to scrutinize inside each of the houses of the village. By the time she'd searched the castle, she was positively hysterical.
Ladon observed her with a mixture of angst and amusement. He thought it very clever of himself to hide here, where she couldn't find him, though when she scampered around the hut and right in front of him, and then right past him, he almost wet himself. How did she not see him? He had no more houses to block her view!
"Sisidy! Sisidy!" screeched the elf. A second later, the older elf popped in, and Cinchona threw herself toward her companion. "Master Ladon not is being here!" she howled. "Cinchona loses Master Ladon!"
The two chattered animatedly for a few moments, then Cinchona thrust Khala into Sisidy's arms and disapparated. Ladon sat back and crossed his arms, feeling very self-satisfied. He'd got rid of the rude one. Something caught his eye and he turned his head. Okay, this was different.
He got to his feet and turned a slow circle, gazing about the room in awe. Where was he? He'd never seen this room before. Wasn't it just like Cinchy to keep a whole new world of fun away from him? The walls were painted a muted sage green, though a multi-coloured tapestry hung on the far wall, and thick beige rugs covered the floor. He toddled further into the room, easily the size of Mama's bedroom, except there was no bed. One whole wall was lined with sturdy oak cabinets, and one corner held a table surrounded by fat, stuffed chairs Fa'er liked to sit in.
What fun were cabinets if you didn't open them? His tiny hand wrapped around the wood at the side of the first door and he pulled it open. Odd. Methodically he pulled out every item, one by one, and left them in a heap on the floor. Blankets, sheets, pillows. The next cabinet yielded something only a bit more interesting; in a matter of seconds, twelve towels, a stack of washcloths, and numerous bars of soap formed a second pile.
If this was the big people's idea of enjoyment, he didn't get it. Bathing and sleeping had their useful points—like after a potty accident—but they hardly ranked high on the list of exciting things to do. He nibbled at the edge of one bar of soap, and promptly spit it out. No, not yummy at all.
The third cupboard offered a treat that made him squeal: toys. Loads of dolls and play wagons and animals…oh, so many things! Maybe Mama and Fa'er were saving them to play by themselves; that didn't seem very sharing. They liked to harp to Ladon that he had to share with his sister. He hauled the contents out onto the rug, then dug through a large wooden box to pick out a set of knights and dragons, which he set up around himself.
Downstairs in the main sitting room, Narcissa and Lucius were cuddling the Snape twins and cooing at their soon-to-be godsons while Aline and Severus looked on with pride. Adriel had a fist clenched in Lucius' mane and was babbling something.
"They are inordinately intelligent," Severus drawled.
"And you know this how?" asked Lucius, pale blond eyebrows raised, and his fingers trying to pry the infant's claws out of his tangled hair.
"Because they're mine," replied Severus, smirking. He squeezed his wife's leg. "And Aline's. She is quite clever herself. And because he already wants to yank those luscious locks out, and he barely knows you." His smirk widened.
"Dear, we shouldn't insult the future godfather," said Aline, shaking her head and smiling. She had to admit, though, Aidan and Adriel were the smartest, most beautiful babies in the world, as anyone except another proud parent would attest.
"Our darlings are in the playroom," said Narcissa. "Have you seen it, Aline? When your boys get older, all four of our children can play together. They'll have so much fun!"
Severus nodded in agreement. "It's unlike any area I ever had, I can assure you. Perhaps we ought to expand the room in our house—"
"M-Mistress Malfoy! Master Malfoy!" shrieked Cinchona, panting and looking fit to faint. "Cinchona not finding Master Ladon! Cinchona looks all over Malfoy house."
"WHAT?" bellowed Lucius, which startled Adriel and made him cry. "You can't find my son?" He was on his feet in an instant, and the elf cringed.
"What do you mean you can't find him?" Narcissa shrieked back, and Aidan's howls rose with his brother's. "Lucius?"
Lucius stalked over, handed the baby to Aline, and addressed the elf through gritted teeth, "How could you lose my son? Explain!"
"We was in playroom," Cinchona sobbed, falling to the floor to bang her head between words. "Master Ladon hits Miss Khala and she bleeding. I looks away, and Master Ladon is gone. Cinchona searches whole house!"
Narcissa, too, had got up and passed Aidan to his father. Although her stomach clenched in fear, her face was surprisingly unpanicked. "Lucius, do you think…" She didn't finish, for he'd taken her hand and disapparated.
They apparated to the playroom, where Sisidy met them with a plaintive wail. She still held Khala tightly in her arms, though the child was heavy and squirming to be let down. "Master, Mistress," she bawled.
Lucius and Narcissa rushed past the elf, Narcissa plucking Khala from her arms as she went. They headed directly to the back corner of the room, behind the last miniature house. Casting one last sidelong glance at each other, they stepped together through the wall into the hidden room.
Ladon lifted his head and squealed with delight. "Mama! Fa'er! Look—toys!" He clutched a dragon in one hand, its wings flapping quietly.
Exhaling a huge sigh of relief, the adults sidestepped the messes their son had made to get to him. Lucius hoisted the boy into his arms for a tremendous hug and kiss on the cheek. "I see you've found the secret room. Naughty boy."
"No, I good boy," Ladon countered, thrusting out his lower lip.
"Yes, you're my good big boy," Lucius agreed, snuggling him tightly. "Come along, we must leave here."
So saying, he and Narcissa carried the children out, to the obvious relief of both house elves, who threw themselves sobbing with joy onto the floor. Lucius removed his wand from the breast pocket of his robes, where he kept it when he wasn't carrying his cane, and aimed at the wall. "Hago Pared Dura." There was no visible change, yet when Narcissa stretched out a hand, it stopped abruptly at the now solid wall.
"This place is incredible!" Aline murmured, wandering into the room holding Adriel, her eyes darting here and there. "And you even have a hidden room."
"How Malfoyish," said Severus, though he was intrigued. "I don't recall you ever mentioning it, nor have I ever heard that spell."
"I learned the spell from Mateo—he was a wizard, you remember," Lucius explained, setting his son on the floor beside him. "I had the room put in right after the dark lord was reborn, in the event I needed to hide my family. It's soundproofed, yet allows us to view the playroom from inside. The toys and such were added later, and I suppose we forgot to seal the wall up again."
"And Voldemort never found out about this?" asked Severus. It wasn't unlikely that Malfoy had used Occlumency to shield this, along with so many other subversions he was guilty of over the years.
"No, he never knew," Narcissa confirmed. "And even if he had, it's keyed to my blood and Lucius'. Only we and family members can get in."
"I shudder to think Bellatrix had access," Severus said.
"She was among the not-informed crowd, Severus. Merlin, do you think I'd tell her and not you?" Lucius insisted. "Even if she'd discovered it, once inside, we could harden the wall; she wouldn't have known the spell to reverse it."
"Fa'er, play with me," Ladon implored, tugging at his pantleg, turning his darling face up to his daddy, and blinking his big grey eyes.
Lucius glanced over at his friend and cocked his head slightly as if to ask, 'Do you mind?' Severus smiled and knelt down, still holding Aidan, who seemed mesmerized by Khala and Ladon. Little people! Aline sat on the floor beside her husband, setting Adriel on her lap, leaning against her. Narcissa sat Khala down, and for an hour the Malfoys and Snapes played.
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Oksana studied her reflection in the mirror of Borimetchka's bathroom—yes, an actual, real bathroom with walls, ceiling, and all. As a permanent resident in these cold mountains, Bori had built himself a large, stone cabin with two bedrooms and a cozy, if not extravagant, bathroom. When his pet dragon had accidentally torched Oksana's tent (she being the only woman, there'd been no available cabin, as all were packed with men), the gentlemanly thing to do had been to invite her into his house. She'd refused his offer to give her his own room to sleep in, and instead bunked comfortably in the second bedroom.
Thus it was she found herself staring at her reflection on this chilly evening. The floor length, sleeveless black gown looked gorgeous on her slim figure, and the matching bolero jacket decked in a delicate sequin pattern only added to the appeal. With her blond hair swept up away from her face, accenting her cheekbones, she was…stunning. Yes, that was the word. In fact, two of the men who'd seen her walk out of the cabin had stopped in their tracks to gawp at her. She nervously wondered what Draco's reaction would be.
She stood shivering outside his cabin, cleared her throat, and called out, "Draco, are you ready? We must go if we are to be on time."
Almost immediately the door opened, and Draco came out wearing a set of dark green, buttery soft, high-necked robes, with silver snake cufflinks. He threw an expensive, heavy black cloak trimmed in a silver leaf around himself as he said, "I was coming to get you." The implication being the man comes to pick up the woman. "Aren't you cold?"
Oksana nodded, took out her wand from her black silk purse, and cast a warming charm on herself. "You look very handsome."
"Thank you. You look exquisite yourself." He crooked his elbow for her to latch onto, and they disapparated.
They apparated into Sofia in a wide alley between two buildings facing a busy street. Draco thought it oddly like Diagon Alley in the way the muggles rushed right by, not one of them even glancing into the alley, most probably because muggle eyes couldn't detect the alley.
"Bori said we go this way and turn right," Oksana instructed, leading the way.
As they rounded a corner, they came upon what appeared to be a solid brick wall. Using her wand, Oksana tapped on three different bricks; a doorway opened to reveal a grand hall where hundreds of wizards and witches dressed to the nines milled about in a lobby. The pair stepped inside and the wall closed behind them. Draco handed the tickets to an attendant, who pointed out the seat section in the auditorium, prime seats up front, where they needed no lenses to get a good view of the orchestra.
The concert began with a classical piece by Chopin, whom many adherents insisted had been a wizard himself. Oksana was enjoying herself immensely as the night wore on, but on the occasions she turned to Draco for his feedback, he was staring fixedly, looking paler than normal even in the dim light. When a young woman with dark hair and unusual violet eyes played a haunting violin solo, he couldn't tear his eyes off her.
After the show, Draco fairly dragged Oksana back into the alley, where dozens of wizards and witches were disapparating. Before she knew it, they were back in the mountains, beside Bori's cabin.
"I had a very nice time, Oksana. Thank you for inviting me." He spun on his heel to go.
Oksana stopped him with a hand on his arm. When he reluctantly turned back, he was biting his lower lip and looking wretchedly forlorn. "Who is she?" As expected, he declined to answer, though he gave off a certain aura of guilt. "The woman with the violin. You stare at her all evening, then get very sad. Who is she?"
"My wife," he answered softly. To her horrified expression, he hurriedly corrected himself. "She was supposed to be my wife. We broke up." A hard lump worked its way up his throat and he struggled to push it down. He hadn't appreciated how much he truly missed Astoria.
He still loved her; Oksana didn't have to ask to understand that. At least his rejections of her advances made sense now, and she knew enough about men to realize a heart belonging to another was not something to covet. "Why you didn't talk to her?"
He gave a lifeless shrug. It sounded too babyish to say he was afraid she'd refuse to speak to him, or worse yet call security and have him thrown out. "I'm sorry if I ruined your evening, Oksana. I really do like you—"
She touched a finger to his lips. "We are friends. We stay friends. It is better." She kissed him on the cheek and stepped up onto the porch. "Your witch—she plays beautifully."
Draco smiled in spite of himself. "Yes, she does. I don't think I ever told her how good I think she is." There are so many things I didn't say. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Draco." Borimetchka was nowhere in sight, so Oksana assumed he'd gone to bed. She crept through the living room, down the hall to her bedroom, and lit the tip of her wand. Lying on her bed—or rather, the smashed remains of what had been her bed—was Dragomir. He lifted his head and blew a light puff of smoke at her.
"BORI!"
