Tiniest Wish: Ab imo Pectore, Part 38
Rating: T -warning for language.
Summary: Millicent and Harry, Severus and Narcissa. Some unexpected developments. Italics = Flashbacks. (For those who have had a difficult time keeping track of time, this is still during the Christmas break of Harry's second year – after Harry's come out of his coma and Sev and Tonks were married. )
"Good. Now that we have come to a compromise, Leave . My . Mind!" Narcissa's voice came to him
once again as a draconic roar that forced him back, dragging him through a seemingly endless
valley of thorned rose vines, to a dark and desolate maze of black crystal that mirrored thousands
of indistinguishable passages, and further backward through an expansive abyss that suddenly
blinked into the image of Narcissa leaning over him.
.
When she saw that he was fully back into his own mind, she rocked him with a stinging slap,
slashed her wand to counter the petrificus and the locking spells, and slowly walked toward the door.
Just inside the door, however, she stopped and stared back at him with a disconcerting gaze.
"I usually do not offer warnings, Severus, but I feel it's justified in this instance.
Where you and Lucius have been otherwise preoccupied in your daily pursuits, I have had fifteen years
of idle time to perfect the arts that I excelled in, with few other responsibilities and a driving purpose.
You truly have no concept of what I can be capable of."
The Tiniest Wish, Part 38
Millicent scanned the room impatiently as she and her mother moved forward through the receiving line. Unlike her mother, who was searching for the tiniest flaw in Lady Malfoy's Christmas décor – to critique and gossip about for weeks to come, Millicent scanned the room anxiously searching for her suite mates.
Her mother rattled on as she searched, superficially asking for her opinion, but hardly listening for it and completely ignoring Millicent's disappointed sigh when she spotted Draco standing by his mother at the head of the receiving line. It was polite, of course, but certainly not expected that Draco stand at his mother's side to greet their guests. After a moment, however, she realized that Lord Malfoy had apparently not returned from whatever task had required his abrupt departure from Professor Snape's wedding ceremony… so it was only natural that Draco would be asked to stand in for his father.
That fact was hardly appeasing to Millicent; however, because without Draco to draw him out, Harry would probably be off in a corner pretending to admire the eighteenth century scenery while he held himself as still and unnoticeable as possible. Thanks to his disgusting relatives, Harry was very talented in making himself nearly unnoticeable without even the use of a notice me not spell, despite his social popularity. That skill, particularly tonight, frustrated her to distraction. While she was pleased to have already seen her dorm mate Lukins passing through the reception line moments earlier, and to have spotted Vincent Crabbe and Geoffrey Goyle sizing up the hors d'oeuvre table from a discreet distance, it was Harry that she truly wished to see.
Before scanning the room again, Millicent spared an amused second glance at her friends, who were clearly planning their attack strategy on the buffet table. They had apparently had forgotten Lady Malfoy's warning the previous Christmas when they had made a bit of a ridiculous scene after someone had placed a light sticking charm on their deserts plates (Millicent suspected that it had been Lady Malfoy, though she wouldn't put it past Draco), before turning back to search for Harry again.
Harry's parents, Professor Snape and Auror Snape, … and wasn't that an odd thought… were speaking with an older witch and the Headmaster near one of the larger chiming fairy trees. Not that it was odd thinking about Professor Snape as Harry's father; their head of house had taken a paternal role with Harry from the first day he showed up at Hogwarts so skinny, malnourished, and mistreated that it was a wonder he'd had the ability to climb up on the sorting stool.
No, what was odd to think about was Mrs. Nymphadora Tonks-Snape, an auror, and most obviously, a former (if one could ever be only a former) Gryffindor. The logistics of the match, between her very Slytherin head of house and the obvious Gryffindor witch, well, made a socially- acceptable sense to Millicent, in a cursory sort of way. Given both Professor Snape's and Auror Tonks-Snape's backgrounds, finding a proper social match would have been a bit unlikely, but the personal side of it was what confused Millicent. The former Ms. Tonks was so… so … thoroughly Gryffindorish and Professor Snape and Harry were definitely Slytherin; although Harry seemed to have a bit of hufflepuff in him at times, too. She just didn't see how the witch's loud personality were going to mesh with her quiet friend and his stern adoptive father.
Setting the thought aside when Harry still didn't show after several seconds, Millicent briefly noticed that while Professor Snape was clearly engaged in the conversation he was having with the headmaster and his wife, his eyes were subtly locked on Draco's mother as she laughed quietly at something that Madam Longbottom was saying. After a moment of curiosity, she glanced away and nodded to her mother, who was urging her forward with a pinched grip on her elbow.
"Mother," she hissed softly, "my cuffs are too thin to hide the bruises you're going to give me if you don't loosen your grip."
Her mother's hand jerked away, but not without scraping her claws across the tender skin on the inside of Millicent's arm, where it wasn't likely to be seen.
"Then it would be wise of you to remember the deportment and etiquette classes that your father has paid so much for. He will be very unhappy to hear that you are slouching around instead of putting your best foot forward. We have already explained over and over how important your carriage at every public outing will be… at least until we secure you…."
"Cynthia, Millicent. It is such a pleasure to see you." Lady Malfoy's seemingly warm greeting caught Millicent by surprise. She had somehow lost track of how close they were approaching the head of the receiving line."
"Mrs. Bulstrode, Miss. Bulstrode." Draco's formal but pleasant welcome followed a moment later.
"Thank you for inviting us, Lady Malfoy." Millicent answered with a light blush of embarrassment as she realized that their hostess had probably heard her mother's unpleasant lecture.
"Oh, Narcissa," her mother minced in a syrupy tone, "you put on the quaintest affairs, though I would have thought that you might have splurged a bit to do something original. This is so traditional. You see it every year. Still, I suppose, it is a safe theme to work with when you can not work up the imagination."
"Oh, yes, I suppose it is a bit more traditional than the affairs that I usually put on, but Madam Snape offered several suggestions that I thought were inspired, but which would not have integrated well into any other theme."
"How generous of you." Millicent broke in before her mother could throw in any other rude aspersions.
"Last year, Harry remarked how much he enjoyed attending your Christmas party. If I remember correctly, it was the first he'd ever attended, so I doubt he's ever been to a traditional Christmas festival. He'll be thrilled. …Oh, that reminds me, Professor Lockhart was positively thrilled that you asked him to be a guest speaker at your boxing day charity luncheon. He spoke of almost nothing else when he visited with mother and father, Friday. He referred frequently to your great kindness, hospitality, and wisdom…" Millicent caught her breath as her mother's nails dug sharply into the back of her hand, which her mother had caught up a moment earlier in a seemingly familial gesture.
"He commented on my wisdom?" Narcissa asked in a falsely flattered tone, meeting Millicent's eyes, though Millicent was certain that she had noticed her mother's clawing grip.
"Oh. What a sweet compliment," Millicent's mother supplied, before commenting snidely, "Though some wizards are so easily impressed."
"Oh, yes. He referred often, during the discussion, to your sensible advice and high standards. He was very impressed with your stand on civility and old world courtesy. In fact, he said that he'd been persuaded, himself, after speaking with you regarding the regrettable lack of old world courtesy and morals, that courtesy required him to at least explain why he was withdrawing from our betrothal." Millicent swallowed a pained sigh as her mother's nails continued to dig into the tendons on the back of her hand.
""Oh, My Dear, I had no idea that he would take my words in that direction… or how he could even doing such a thing as that when I was lauding him for his sensibility in pursuing your courtship so traditionally. It never occurred to me that he would. Oh, my Dear, how devastating." Narcissa barely suppressed a smirk at the child's machinations even as she injected a suitable amount of seeming distress into her tone.
For her part, young Miss Bulstrode, who was clearly not as dense nor as heavy-handed as Narcissa had assumed from her mother's boorish example, schooled her face into an appropriately saddened expression, though not so much that Narcissa couldn't read the relief and pleasure sparkling in her gaze. Yes, Narcissa thought, she had misjudged the young witch. The child seemed a bit more clever and nuanced than Narcissa had previously given her credit for.
By stopping the receiving line, to make her thinly-veiled announcement, the child had guaranteed that her news would be quickly picked up by a multitude of society gossips, who were already in the process of casting poorly camouflaged eavesdropping charms. Even Severus had noticed the pause, though he had seemed moderately engaged in his conversation her niece, his mother, and Headmaster Dumbledore, when she last glanced at him.
"Oh, no, Lady Malfoy," the child quickly responded in a seemingly disconcerted tone. "You misunderstand. I deeply appreciate your influence over the professor."
At the child's words, Narcissa began to wonder whether the child truly guessed what the extent of her influence had been. From Miss Bulstrode's careful phrasing, Narcissa suspected that she had at the very least guessed that Narcissa had, with a few well-chosen phrases and hollow promises, quite neatly caused the buffoonish-simpering professor to reconsider his betrothal. She had not mentioned her intention to Severus, of course.
Her husband's friend, and now a relation by marriage, was notoriously, and laudably, protective of his students, and thrice over as protective for his son and Draco. As a result, it was incredibly unlikely that he would be prone to see the sensibility of Narcissa's decision to free the young witch of her quite ridiculous betrothal contract with the foppish, self-pandering professor, in order to be installed as a place holder for Harry. He was instead, more likely to be inclined to criticize her interference and suggest that both Harry and Miss Bulstrode were far too young for such a commitment. Narcissa, however, had no intention of allowing unwanted influences to creep into Draco's, or Harry's, environment, and it was not uncommon - particularly in Slytherin association for grasping and ill-intentioned families to persuade their daughters into an untoward association for the sole purpose of gaining influence in the boys lives. Narcissa herself had been subject to her parents desire to elevate their social standing, but had been marginally fortunate to have been pushed on Lucius Malfoy instead of Rudolphus Lestrange, as her sister had.
By contrast, Narcissa felt that engineering even a temporary arrangement between the children would be at least harmless, as she had no doubt of her ability to control Cynthia Bulstrode's machinations for her daughter, and the child's father was too witless to be a match for either Severus or Lucius. Not only that, but the witch seemed to be marginally fond of Harry and had even been tolerable company at Harry's birthday celebration.
"…If he had not been persuaded by your comments and had simply withdrawn from the betrothal contract without an explanation, and I would have been left to wonder what I had done to offend him, or…"
When young Miss Bulstrode trailed off, Narcissa turned back from surreptitiously watching Lenore Hempstead, notorious for her poorly cast listening spells, attempting to edge her way close enough to overhear their conversation. Perfect. While Lenore could not cast a decent eavesdropping spell to save her life or reputation, she was a quite talented social columnist, far above the standard of the only slightly more popular trash writer, Rita Skeeter. Better yet, while it was never directly mentioned, Lenore quite owed Narcissa several favors for unexpected invitations to events that she would not have had any other hopes of attending… and she knew it.
Raising her voice just a shade to draw the columnist even closer, Narcissa asked, "What is it child?" in an encouraging tone and quickly repressed a smirk when she noticed a glimmer in the child's eyes as Miss Hempstead edged into the child's view.
"Oh… it's nothing really, only that before he explained his decision, I had worried that he might have found me… lacking… on closer acquaintance."
Narcissa shifted her expression to one of at least superficial sympathy and reached out to catch the young witch's hand, gracefully extracting it from her mother's clawing grip, and murmured, "Dear, Dear..." as she waited for Hempstead to edge closer. Despite the witch's absolute inability to cast a decent eavesdropping spell, Hempstead was wondefully skilled in subtly swaying her readers into accepting the most scandelous conclusions as simple fact, and had been quite useful to Narcissa in the past. When she deemed that the columnist had edged close enough she finally continued.
"Surely not. I am quite certain that could not be the case. With the immense responsibilities he told me of, I can hardly credit that he would have had much time at all to spend with you, much less to tire of your company."
"Really, the professor has been very generous with his time – even offering private tutoring on the weekends." the younger witch demurred, though her eyes flickered to Hempstead then back to Narcissa with only a very, very superficial expression of worry that took Narcissa by surprise with the realization that Millicent clearly recognized what she was doing. That was unexpected.
Pansy Parkinson, whom Narcissa had chosen for Draco on the basis of her native cunning and intellect had nevertheless, frequently missed noting such details, not that Narcissa intended to share all of her manipulations with Miss Parkinson until the witch was permanently bonded - health, wealth, and magic to her son. Parkinson had, at times, seemed a little too cunning for Narcissa, not to suspect that Lady Parkinson, an inveterate schemer, was guiding her daughter's actions. The reverse seemed to be true with Bulstrode, who was quite handily playing Lockhart's conceits against him in a rather cunning direction, if the child was actually intending what she expected, and Narcissa was becoming quite curious to watch and see whether the child had the nerves and intelligence to carry it off.
"Pivate tutoring? On the weekends?" Narcissa asked in a shocked tone, suspecting that she knew exactly the direction the you witch was going, and allowing Millicent to play out her little scheme.
She did so partly out of curiosity, wondering how she had misjudged the young witch's potential early on, and partly because the child's manipulations played well into her own plans. Her brief interview with Lockhart had proven the wizard an oaf and a fraud. Why the headmaster would have ever considered a fop like Lockhart for such position and important subject mystified her completely. Still, it was not unknown for men of power - even heroes - to hesitate in training their replacements.
Dismissing the thought for later consideration, Narcissa turned her attention back to Miss Bulstrode, who was in the midst of an awkwardly worded but adequate insinuation: "Lady Malfoy, I do hope you know that I would never take advantage of his generosity. My mother has always advised me to avoid even the slightest appearance of impropriety, and taking private lessons in my betrothed's quarters, could only lead to the most horrible accusations of favoritism. I would never jeopardize his reputation with such a claim."
"Oh, I am sure not." Narcissa barely suppressed a smirk at that - the priceless irony of Miss Bulstrode's comments, which denied a far lighter offense - while suggesting a far more serious offense - in an artless and guileless manner.
"Have others imposed themselves on him? For private tutoring in his quarters?"
"Oh, yes, Ma'am." Millicent met Narcissa's gaze with eyes that sparkled in amusement - clearly recognizing Narcissa's cooperation. "Several of the Ravenclaw students have commented on how difficult it is to schedule OWL and NEWT reviews because so many third and fourth year witches signed up for private appointments."
"Yes, I can see how that would be a concern." Narcissa answered slightly louder voice as she sent an intentionally dark glance at Lenore Hempstead, who was practically salivating at the news.
"Yes, Ma'am. but he was very clear that he was not in anyway offended by my refusal... that it wasn't my fault in any way - merely a matter of my age."
"Your age? But, surely, he was aware of your age from the outset."
"Yes, Lady Malfoy, but he said that it only recently occurred to him that it would be unfair to me as a witch only in her second year, with my age and in-experience working against me, to be saddled with a bachelor 'fully and vigorously' in his prime of life."
"How considerate of him," Narcissa commented dryly.
As if suddenly realizing how long they had been standing idle, Millicent lifted her hand to her cheek and murmured with false surprise, "Lady Malfoy, I am so sorry. I did not mean to monoolize your time when your time when you still have guests to greet."
"Dear, no." Narcissa denied with emphasis, pleased with Miss Bulstrode's affectation. Perhaps, the girl was a better choice for Harry than she earlier realized.
"I will not hear a word of that, Millicent, a majority of our guests are well-arrived, and those who've chosen to come late have no cause to mind if you have held me a moment or two longer, when we have seen each other so rarely."
"Thank you, Lady Malfoy." Millicent curtsied deeply when Narcissa released her hand and stepped aside to wait as her mother made the pretence of a pleasant greeting.
Turning to search for Harry again, she was barely paying attention her mother's rambling spate as she pulled Millicent along by her arm.
"Millicent, My Darling Child, you were brilliant." Her mother enthused, "Co-opting Narcissa's very own party to announce that you are free from your previous bethrothal without stain - is quite simply the social coup of the season, and there can be no better event to do it at either. Both Lucius and Narcissa are such horrible social climbers inviting anyone they think might be a stepping stone on their way up that there are bound to be simply gads of lucrative contacts that your father would simply die to get his hands on.
It is almost a shame that he has too much self-respect to pander and stoop the way Lucius does; we might have been in a much better circumstance if he had lowered himelf to trivialities. Oh well, there's no need to wish for knuts when you can wish for galleons. Now, we simply must find you a slew of prospective suitors. At least, with the Malfoys being such pathetic elitists, we won't have to worry that their guests won't have the proper backgrounds. Anyone here will suit...Oh, Merlin's beard, already a suitable prospect.
A suitable prospect indeed. What a coup that would be. Narcissa's bound to swallow her own tongue in envy, and with no daughter of her own, she hasn't a hope of stealing him out from under me." Millicent's mother rambled as she pulled Millicent through and around other guests, who were milling amiably and enjoying the delicacies being offered from sparkling, snowflake-shaped dishes that descended from the ceiling in tiny drifting arcs.
When her mother finally stopped dragging Millicent, they were standing just behind a life-sized crystaline sculpture of an Angel's trumpet who's delicate flowers had been charmed to sparkle with fairy lights just before releasing a soft ringing chime that joined others nearby in playing soft lilting Christmas melodies that echoed throughout the Manor.
"There. Right there." her mother whispered urgently as she shook Millicent's arm to get her attention. "Look over there, at the wizard speaking to Minister Fudge's assistant. There, you see him? Emory Crouch."
Millicent followed her mother's gaze and nearly gasped when she recognized the wizard that her mother was indescretely pointing out - a wizard with a impatient, almost bitter expression, who was already greying at his temples. He was dressed in an extremely conservative set of wizarding robes that would have been appropriate to Lady Malfoy's old world theme, if she had announced that it was a costume event.
Although ... her mother was probably correct that Millicent's father would likely salivate at the very thought of elder Crouch brother courting her. If possible, it was an even worse choice thatn Professor Lockhart. It wasn't even just that he was possibly even just that he was so much older than her either; although, she certainly wasn't happy that her mother seemed to have no qualms whatsoever pairing her with a wizard at least sixty years her senior. If she remembered correctly, he was at least a decade older than his younger brother, Bartimous Crouch, who already had an adult son in azkaban the year Millicent was born, but that wasn't what bothered her the most.
"Mother, he's bonded with Mr. Jorgenson."
"Yes, yes, but he is still the family paternalia and must produce an heir. With Barty's son convicted, and Barty's wife ill, he can't even legitimately assinn his inheritance to Barty. If he doesn't want to give up the famiy seat on the wizengamot, he'll have to produce an heir soon, and he's no doubt feeling the pressure to do so... and as you say, he's already bonded to that flake Jorgenson, so he'll not be holding out for a particularly pretty or clever wife. He'll not be too picky about the dowry, either, or require the showy wedding that Lockhart had wanted. Really, having your wedding carriage pulled by unicorns, the man was too much. No, Emory won't want anything of the sort. Your father should be quite pleased."
To her disgust, Milicent couldn't argue with that. There was no question that her father would be thrilled to spend as little as possible on her or her wedding much less dowry. In fact, she was almost surprised that her father hadn't set her dowry at a mere knut and let her go "to the first fool who'd take her" as he'd threatened when she had first protested her father's acceptance of Lockhart's offer.
"Millicent, Mrs. Bulstrode..." Draco gently broke in. "I'm so sorry to interrupt, but mother asked me to see if there is any possible way that we could impose on you for the tiniest favor."
Millicent flashed a grateful smirk at Draco, even as she cocked an eyebrow at the sympathetic, if embarrased, flush that swept across his face as he caught a brief glimpse of the greedy appraising glance that her mother barely suppressed. Draco occasionally seemed embarrassed at the thought that his mother's favors were considered so lucrative. Personally, Millicent thought that Draco had no idea how lucky he had it. She was almost convinced that she could have had a far less complicated home life if her parents had possessed a social standing on level with the Malfoys instead of always hungering after and resenting even the most minute display of power or influence. Still despite her parents poor example, Millicent couldn't find it in herself to be jealous or resentful of Draco - even if she knew that, had their circumstances been reversed, her parents would have probbly never forced her into that ridiculous betrothal with Lockhart.
"Oh, but of course," her mother simpered, "We're alwas happy to oblige Narcilla's little whims."
Wincing at her mother's barely disguised grasping, Millicent turned to Draco grateful smile, "What can we do, Draco?"
"Madam Bulstrode, an acquaintance of my mother's, Mrs. Lenore Hempstead is quite unescorted this evening, and mother worries that she is such a social person that she'll find no enjoyment of the evening without companionship. Would you terribly mind providing her a bit of company until mother can be freed up from the receiving line?"
"Oh, of course, we wouldn't mind." Her moher gushed, almost clapping in her excitement at being paired with the gossip columnist.
"Come along, Millicent." She ordered enthusiastically, catching her daughter's wrist to pull her along when Millicent hesitated.
"Actually, Madam Bullstrode, we were hoping that we could impose on Millicent to keep Harry company, as well, until I can be let off the receiving line?"
Millicent waited for her mother to respond, hoping that it would be with a somewhat harmless comment - suspecting, however, that she wouldn't be quite that lucky
Her suspicions were confirmed a second later when her mother smiled boldly and squeezed her hand:"Of course, she can. It would do her prospects good to be seen with such acquaintances. Do be sure to mix and mingle with the guests, Millicent, particularly Mr. Crouch. It's a perfect opportunity for an introduction; he can hardly refuse to speak with the 'Boy-who-lived' now could he... and make certain that you've introduced him to all of your father's friends and business associates. It never hurts to remind them that your father may have influential contacts."
"Yes, Mother." Millicent muttered softly, trying to contain her embarrassment and irritation.
With that, her mother turned, like a vulture sighting its next meal and rushed off into the crowd, calling, "Lenore... Lenore, Darling, is that you? How long has it been?"
"Thanks, Draco" she muttered, "For a few moments there, I thought that ... huh, nevermind." She trailed off, deciding that there was no purpose to be served by pairing his dissatisfaction out to her suitemate.
"Thought she'd have you chained off to old crouch over there even before midnight?" He asked trying to dispel the subject on a light note if possible, "yes, Mother suspected as much, and thought to buy you sometime. While your mother's busy with Lenore, I think she's planning to have a brief discussion with him regarding a few more suitable candidates for his attentions."
"Really?" Millicent asked, intrigued until another thought occured, "Draco, why is she doing that, and why did she spook Lockhart off?"
"Don't let her know that you haven't figured it out, yet. I think she was rather impressed with your performance."
"Spell it out for me, Naja." she commanded softly.
Smiling indulgently, Draco gestured with a nod of his head toward an exit into the garden and held his silence until they were far enough away from the party not to be overheard.
Instead of explaining why his mother had taken a personal iterest in her betrothal prospects, though, Draco smiled an inguriatingly enigmatic smile and chirped, "Pansy told me."
Pansy, that annoying little bint. She'd have to find a way to make Parkinson pay for that little confession when they got back to school. Sure Parkinson was betrothed to Draco, and Harry was Draco's best friend, but somethings should be kept ... or should have been kept just between girls.
"And you told your mother?" she asked tersely, staring at him irritably and wishing that she could read how he really felt about her.
"Course not, but she's been in the same spot as you, so I expect that it wouldn't take much thought for her see the possibility."
She wished she could tell precisely what he was thinking, but Draco's face was so cheerfully set that it couldn't be real. After waiting for her response, Draco finally rolled his eyes and swept his fingers down the path toward the stables with a small caution.
"Just don't let him think that it's only been about this... even if it has. "
Uncertain whether his comment implied his approval or not, Millicent decided not to push the issue and hurried down the path toward the thestral stables.