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Chapter XXIX
The Triple Agent Blinks Thrice
[Malfoy Manor | March 1995]


The lids of V's eyes snap open at the first light of dawn, a creeping chill snaking it's way down her spine. There's a fog upon the glass, and outside the world is nestled in a cold grey calm, and she inside, burrows deeper beneath the plush comforter, the crisp sheets, the extra blanket she's dragged from the linen closet. Beside her she feels the cool smooth skin of her husband, his breath rising and falling stiffly, rhythmically. Strange, to watch him sleep like this. Strange, she thinks, to see him now in this sort of situation. She tries to close her eyes again, to fall back to sleep, but instead a reel of images begins to play upon the insides of her eyelids.

A tall cathedral, steeply pitched roof shingled with slate, walls stacked high with ancient weathered stone, vines climbing like snakes, sunlight streaming through the stained glass. A brilliance inside, the light reflecting off of every surface, a prism of color and luminescence. The bell tolls. The air shimmers. It is moist, green, and pleasantly warm.

Click

Moonlight on the surface of an impossibly still stretch of ocean. Air choked with salt and silence. A large black bird crosses the moon, flying west, wings fixed, an easy effortless motion. Beneath the water there is a shift and the color darkens with the sky.

Click

A red curtain, parted slightly, billowing as though hung in front of an open window. Shadows drip, a slow leaking honey-thick darkness, down along the fabric. A quick shallow breathing, echoing from every corner of a vast, unknowable room.

Click

The well-worn deck of a tall ship, white sails catching the storm-fed wind, forging northward. A blood-stained blade skitters into the light as the ship is tossed by a sizable wave. A sharp cry cracks the sky.

Click

She cuts the film, retracts the screen back up into her skull, and brings her eyes to focus on the room surrounding her. The elegant floral wallpaper. The mahogany mantle over the fireplace. The damask drapery hanging atop the four-poster she's buried in. She props herself up on an elbow and nudges her husband, jostling him awake. Immediately his mouth forms a frown, his brow furrowing, eyes opening just enough to squint at her in the dim morning light.

"What?" He hisses. Noticing her concern, he decides it appropriate to ask "Is something wrong?"

"Couldn't sleep." She shrugs, ruffling the long dark hair cascading down her shoulders, falling luxuriously over her breasts. Her skin appears almost opalescent. "Was thinking…"

"That's never a good sign." He says. She kicks him.

"About our wedding." She finishes.

"How romantic." He smiles sarcastically.

"Oh stop. You remember the place, right? That cathedral. In Iceland."

"How could I forget? It was one of the most beautiful places I've ever been." He says, oddly sentimental.

"Yeah. Me too." She says, leaning back down into her pillow. "Sometimes that all feels unreal. That I dreamed it some long night in my cell. You know, that it was some other life, forever ago." She rolls over to face him. "Sometimes I wonder…"

"And what do you wonder, you strange strange girl?"

"Are we who we were?" She searches beneath the covers for his hand, finds it, and places hers atop it lightly. His skin prickles, shoots up with goosebumps. "Despite the obvious physical differences…" She fixes her eyes on where his nose should be. "We really haven't changed much at all."

"You certainly haven't." He says definitively, drawing her closer. Strange how she's no longer repulsed by him, his weird new body, his harsh cold voice. He kisses her forehead. "Except for these. You didn't have all these wrinkles." He pulls the covers down to reveal her arm, and traces the tattoo upon her forearm with a long slender finger. She flinches, it tickles.

"Everyone thinks I'm a death eater." She smiles.

"You can be one, if you want. I'll have to think it over of course, but I think you might qualify."

"Oh you think I might qualify do you?" She rolls her eyes.

"You're still the most talented witch I've ever met." He says, seriously now.

"Wow that's such a big complement, coming from you." V says, "And you're comparing me to who? That Bellatrix girl?"

"Hah! She's a child compared to you."

"Yes. She is. Quite literally."

"Victoria please, the last thing I want to talk about now is Bellatrix Lestrange." He says, kissing her to prevent her from continuing on. Of course she has no complaints—the mere thought of the girl pisses her off. She loses herself in his kiss, enjoying his undivided attention, the pressure of his body on hers, the familiar smell of his skin. He's enveloped in her lush morning beauty, her freshly awakened eyes blinking up at him, her tender lips moist and inviting.

Then, a knock at the door. Then rapid-fire knocking, frantic and tense. The door swings open and Lucius stumbles in.

"Sir. My Lord. There's been a…" He catches himself. "Sorry. I. Didn't mean to… Please forgive me. I'll just…" Lord Voldemort looks slowly over his shoulder. Lucius is disintegrating under his glare.

"You'll tell me what's got you so concerned." Voldemort says cooly, shifting himself, pulling up the covers to better conceal himself and his wife.

"I…uh…Sorry I…just got word that Yaxley and Carrow have been captured by the uh…the Ministry and…they leaked information….one of them did…and they're sending officials over….quite soon….most likely…." Lucius stammers, his voice quavering, catching breaths between every other word, eyes fixed on the floor.

"Thank you for alerting us. Now, I suggest you tidy up. Don't want to leave a bad impression on the Ministry, do you?" Voldemort says.

"No. Of course not. Is there anything else I should do?" Lucius says quickly, before immediately shoving his foot in his mouth.

"Actually…" V says, but Voldemort cuts her off.

"No." He says firmly. "You can leave." Lucius scrambles out the door, shutting it loudly behind him. Voldemort glares at his wife.

"What?" She looks up at him coyly. "He was offering assistance." But she can't keep a straight face for long. "He looked like he was going to cry." She laughs.

"I'm sure he's crying right now." Voldemort kisses her breast. She wraps her slender legs around his back. "Now where were we…"


The Malfoys are all gathered in the kitchen. Lucius paces behind the table as his wife Narcissa picks at her soft boiled egg and Draco helps himself to another strip of bacon. Although the room has just been used to prepare food, it is devoid of any food smells, any comforting aromas. At the sound of footsteps descending the staircase, Lucius stiffens. The tea kettle starts to whistle and Dobby scrambles to retrieve it. Not fast enough, he receives a whack on the back with Lucius' cane, making the house elf stumble and spill some hot water on his poor little feet. He winces in double pain. At the first sight of shadows on the threshold, Lucius jumps into another apology.

"So sorry again, My Lord. I didn't mean to…" Lucius carries on.

"What an inconvenience. Yaxley and Carrow captured on the day we planned to hold our largest meeting yet. I suppose it's more well-guarded than we expected…" Voldemort says, walking straight past Lucius, taking a seat at the table. V glides in beside him and sits next to Draco. Dobby wobbles over and pours her a cup of tea.

"Thank you, Dobby." She says. A great collective movement as every head in the room swivels to stare at her. "What?" She blinks. Dobby drops the tea pot.

"Such a strange girl." Voldemort smirks, shaking his head.

"We don't have much time. You can use the tunnel in the basement…" Lucius says, still pacing.

"Why don't you sit down, Lucius. You're making me anxious." V says. He sits immediately. She winks. He blushes full scarlet.

"Contact Severus and tell him we'll be arriving at his home shortly." Voldemort says, looking neither at Lucius nor V, instead buttering a piece of toast.

"Is the meeting off then?" V asks, looking from Voldemort to Lucius.

"We'll have to alert everyone. Tell them our location has been compromised." Narcissa says. Lucius nods.

"Wait. No. No need to go anywhere." V says, placing down her cup of tea delicately in its saucer. "I'll speak with them."

"You?" Lucius stops pacing.

"Yes." Voldemort agrees. "She'll speak with them." He doesn't look up, continues to butter his toast. Takes a bite. The room has fallen silent. V's slightly shocked, but not as shocked as everyone else. He still trusts her. Clearly that's what this is. Sure, she'll take it.


Another knock, now on the front door, a mere fifteen minutes later. Breakfast has been cleared from the kitchen table, and V sits with Draco, stirring her tea absently with a long silver spoon, as he scribbles on parchment. A large book lays open before them. A single candle illuminates their work. There's a rustle in the hall, the opening and closing of a door, hushed voices, and then louder ones. Dobby patters in to the kitchen, with Kingsley Shacklebolt and Cornelius Fudge in tow.

"Miss Spektor? Fancy seeing you here." Cornelius Fudge remarks, pushing his way past Kingsley.

"Hmm? Yes, likewise." V yawns without looking at him, stirring the spoon counterclockwise.

"You don't live here." Fudge says, fumbling around with his thoughts, attempting to collect them.

"No. No I don't. And neither do you." V sleepily looks up, squinting at him in the dim morning light. She yawns again and raises her hand to cover her mouth, the black stone set in her gold ring glinting in the candle's reflection. "Is there something…wrong? Did something happen to Lucius and Narcissa?"

"I was about to ask you that." Fudge says. Kingsley steps forward, eyeing V suspiciously.

"Do you have any information as to where Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy are?" Kingsley asks. He knows she does. He knows she's up to something.

"They left for a weekend holiday and asked me to look after Draco and the house. I agreed, naturally, seeing as the boy is in desperate need of tutoring in my subject, and in potions, and…" Draco glares at V, then puts his nose back in the book.

"I didn't know you were friends with the Malfoys." Fudge says, peering around as if expecting to see someone hiding in a dark corner, under the table, behind a door slightly ajar.

"With Narcissa, yes. I knew her mother, Druella. Wicked, but funny as hell. Came up with the best nicknames. And by best I mean…worst…"

"Yes yes, very well." Fudge mutters dismissively and draws his wand. V takes a sip of her tea. "I'm sure you know Carrow and Yaxley too, no doubt."

"I know of them, sure." V peers over the rim of her teacup.

"They were caught breaking in to the Ministry early this morning, attempting to gain access to one of our departments. Interestingly enough, once captured and interrogated, they mentioned that there was a meeting to be held here, at Malfoy Manor, later today."

"Meeting? Yaxley and Carrow? Here?" She looks at Draco.

"Boy would you stop with that scratching. It's distracting." Fudge orders offhand and Draco hastily drops the quill. Ink spatters his parchment. "Yes, a meeting. A meeting of death eaters." In a spasm of laughter, V sprays tea all over Fudge's waistcoat. He regards her with a look of surprise and mild mortification.

"What is this? Some kind of a joke?" V places the teacup back in its saucer with a clink. "And you mean to tell me you're here to do…what again?"
"Well, we're here to…" Fudge looks at Kingsley Shacklebolt, who's helped himself to a cup of tea. He shrugs.

"This was your idea, Minister. I still don't know what you expected to find here. Well, not this, but…I don't see why we're wasting these people's time. It's not like we have a warrant to search the place. The owners aren't even here." Kingsley says.

"Shhhh she doesn't know that." Fudge mutters under his breath, teeth clenched. "Yes, well. We're all a little on high-alert at the Ministry because of what the Potter boy is claiming…"

"I thought you didn't believe any of that rubbish…" V says. "Or is the Daily Prophet lying? Because it has been known to do that…"

"Um." Fudge pauses, unsure how to respond. "No. Of course, I'm not claiming I believe that You-Know-Who is back. I just thought…"

"Mr. Shacklebolt, how much longer are you and your companion planning on spending with us? Because I do have better things to do, and I sure hope you do too." V says, ignoring the sweating lump of authority and confusion in front of her.

"We're just going to take a quick look around." Fudge declares, starting to stride into the dining room.

"I'm afraid I can't consent to that, seeing as this is not my house. If you really have your heart set on searching the Malfoys' home, I suggest you come back when they're here, and with a search warrant." V's voice is strong, definitive. Fudge buckles.

"Right right yes I think that would be best. No need really to search the house. Lucius is an upstanding employee at the Ministry. With such a lovely wife. And a nice child." He looks at Draco with a simpering smile. "No need. I…apologize for my intrusion. Blame it on my lack of sleep. Getting less and less of it it seems, you know."

"What a shame." V says. "That must be rough for you."

"Oh it is, but I make due. Got a whole Ministry to oversee, don't I? No sleeping on my job heh heh. Well, I won't keep you, we'll just be on our way. Give the Malfoys my regards."

"Surely." V says, rising from the table to show them out. At the door, Kingsley pauses and locks eyes with her. She blinks three times. He nods.


V hears the deep breathing behind her and suspects who it might be before the shrill voice even exits the witch's mouth.

"Bellatrix Lestrange." V says, stopping in the upper hall but not turning around. "You're following me."

"Yes. Yes I am. I wanted to talk." She says shrilly, cocking her head back. Her stance indicates someone unsure of themselves, yet knowing exactly how she wants to project herself and be perceived by others. V turns around, folds her arms.

"Ok. Talk." V leans casually against the wall, bored already.

"Um. Well. So there's just this little thing that's been bothering me, you know. Just a little thing that I've been wondering. Just who the hell are you?"

"Right. We haven't been introduced. My name is Victoria Spektor." She holds out her hand mechanically.

"Uh yeah I know that much." Bellatrix rolls her eyes.

"You're not going to shake my hand?" V asks, smiling. The frazzled witch takes V's hand, grips it with all the strength she's got, almost breaking her bones.

"Nice to meet you." Bellatrix says through gritted teeth.

"Is it really?" V ponders aloud. Bellatrix narrows her eyes.

"You're just complicating things, you know." Bellatrix says. "Things were working out much better before you got here."

"Oh. I see." V says, a glimmer of realization sparking deep within those dark eyes. She smiles slyly, placing a hand on her hip. "I'm sure they were. For you."

"Don't look at me like that." Bellatrix shakes her head, averting her eyes. A chill invades her.

"You're married to Lestrange's boy, right? Hm. Wonder if he's anything like his father…"

"What are you implying?" Bellatrix huffs.

"Nothing." V grins. "You're a little tense, dear. You should try and relax. More of that deep breathing aught to do the trick."

"Still haven't told me who you are." Bellatrix places her hands on her hips, annoyed.

"Half-blood. Grew up in London. Went to Hogwarts. Sorted into Slytherin. Dropped out my seventh year. Traveled the world. Got married. Got arrested. Spent the rest of my life in Azkaban. Now I'm here." V rattles off the events in her life like she's reading a grocery list.

"Half-blood." Bellatrix spits. "Never heard the name Spektor before."

"I'm the last one. My brother changed his name to Weasely. You'll know of him, maybe. Barnaby Weasely. Worked in the Ministry. Still does probably, come to think of it…" V loses herself in thought for a moment, then continues. "You never heard about what happened to my family?"

"Um, no. Why would I?"

"It was a pretty big deal when it happened. Hm. Guess it was a long time ago. People forget." V says, looking at Bellatrix but not really looking at her. She shakes herself out of the reverie she's fallen through.

"How old are you even, anyway?" Bellatrix tosses her dark curly hair around.

"Don't be rude, Bellatrix." Voldemort's voice reaches the two of them as he climbs the staircase.

"My Lord. I did not intend…"

"My Lord?" V snorts. Bellatrix's eyes widen in shock.

"Victoria." Voldemort chides, approaching her, taking her hand. "I want to speak with you and Severus." She nods. Once close enough, she tilts her head up and gives him a quick kiss. Glancing back over her shoulder, Bellatrix is red and fuming. V winks at the girl, fueling the jealous fire that's just ignited inside the witch with the wild hair.