Saturday, 14 October 1978
To his immense frustration, it had taken Lucius weeks to locate Uagadou. Despite its notoriety as the largest of all schools of magic, its location in the Mountains of the Moon was a well-guarded secret, especially as he had needed to travel under the cloak of anonymity. Likely he could have offered a weak excuse to Millicent Bagnold to receive a letter of introduction and clear directions to the school, but it was absolutely essential that no one recognize him or know where he'd gone. He'd gambled enough in asking her to confirm this as Angelique's destination after leaving Slughorn's instruction two and a half years prior. However it had been his only option, as he needed a concrete starting point to track her down. The journey to Uganda had not been an easy one, undertaken largely on broomstick in the cover of night and Disillusionment charms. Fighting between the Muggles of this country and their neighbors to the south had recently erupted, and though the violence was some distance away, it would not do to have to Apparate out of a war zone and draw the attention of the local magical government. From prior reading and descriptions, he'd been able to deduce that the school was located in the Ruwenzori Range. Unlike his expedition to find the Volsung, Lucius did not have to deal with arctic temperatures, but the rainy season had just begun and his Impervius Charms only lasted a few hours per casting so it was difficult to get anything like an uninterrupted stretch of sleep.
Traveling during the day was challenging for a number of reasons. First and foremost, he had no legal reasons for being in any country whose borders he crossed, and the fact that he was moving by broomstick would be highly suspect should he be caught: while fast, it was still slower than flooing or apparating, but had the well-known benefit of not being Ministry regulated. He'd brought a sufficient number of galleons to bribe a lower level member of any government official he might come across, but should he be apprehended by a scrupulous warlock, he'd not wanted to slow himself down with the weight of so much gold; to access his funds he'd have to reveal his true identity. And so in this method of exhaustive and frustrating travel, it took him a full month to even get close to the famed Wizarding institution on the African continent. Fortunately due to his excursions seeking the Volsung and other missions for the Dark Lord he had some experience with moving in secrecy and untraceable stealth, but it was certainly not his preferred means of transit. He tried not to dwell on the last time he'd been on this continent— a wonderful holiday with his wife, and enjoyable few weeks hunting with her sister and brother-in-law. She'd surprised him by loving it here, but then she'd loved New York too— she was so happy when traipsing the globe, where they went seemed almost to matter naught. But even that was a second option; he could hardly wait to bask in her joy upon the actualization of her true desire of motherhood. But there were still obstacles to overcome on that front.
Magic always left traces, and it was these traces that he scrupulously tracked through the mountains and jungles. Uagadou was a powerful institution and consquently source of magic, and it's influence spread like long, twining fingers through the continent, and once he'd found a vein it was not especially difficult to follow it towards its source. When at last he laid eyes upon it Lucius found that reports were not exaggerated: the school was a spectacular edifice carved out of the mountainside and shrouded in mist, appearing at the right time of day to float in mid-air in a breathtaking feat of magic and nature.
At Hogwarts, students seeking to advance their studies past the N.E.W.T level did not generally live on grounds, or at least had not in Angelique's case; she'd kept a small flat in Hogsmeade. He suspected then that she might do the same here, and rather than seek to penetrate the school's defenses, he took a modest room in the magical town nearest by which, like Hogsmeade, served as a gateway to the institution and offered the more adult comforts of pubs, hotels, and restaurants. Kyarumba was not entirely exclusive of Muggles but was remote enough that few ventured there and even fewer lived within its limits, and it offered the most direct access to Uagadou.
Like Hogsmeade, Kyarumba had only one main thoroughfare, and so it was here that Lucius stationed himself to watch and wait, under alternately a Disillusionment charm and various facial transfigurations, until he could hope to spot his quarry. He did not have to wait long. Just after dawn on the second day he saw a witch with coarse, straight black hair marching confidently up towards the school. He recognised her at once, despite the years that had past, and followed her at a distance only to the archway that signified the entrance of Uagadou. After she passed its boundary, he had little choice but to wait for her to return many hours later, and move after her in secrecy to her home here.
He supposed, with a deep sense of egocentrism, that he had expected her to live in some sort of wattle and daub hut under thatching, foregoing basic luxuries in order to inhabit the area. This was not even remotely the case: her house was constructed of a locally quarried pale beige stone with windows that stretched from the ground to the roof in one crystalline sheet. The modestly sized dwelling was far more modern than the Manor but lacked unwieldy experimental elements one might expect from the avant garde; elegant and practical in its design. It was also well guarded with wards. Having located it, however, he was able to return to his rented quarters until the following morning, when he could safely test the magical walls of her home without raising alarm. He arrived early enough to see a woman arrive before Angelique departed— a nanny, he supposed— and spent the rest of the daylight hours before her return exposing the weaknesses in her protective charms. Fortunately the spellwork was minimal; clearly she felt safe here, and did not bother with extensive defenses. It was a mistake that would cost her dearly.
She returned home before nightfall and Lucius became conscious of the fact he'd not eaten during that whole day of sharp observation. Still, he was sure the his strength was sufficient to execute the task at hand, and all the better if he might be delirious during the act. Slipping inside was no trouble at all, and he'd been able to deduce the layout from several circlings of the property. He located the nursery in almost no time at all.
It was still and humid inside the room. A beautifully carved cradle rested in its centre, mango wood inlaid with ivory in geometric designs. This Lucius approached after breathing "Lumos," and he neatly compartmentalized all thoughts of the fact he would now carry out the most loathsome crime known to mankind. He'd committed many sins, violence was not a repulsive act to him, but this, against his own blood, was an unnatural violation that he would need to overcome. With a bracing inhalation, he leaned forward to look upon his doomed offspring for the first and last time.
The child was too young; little as he knew of children even he could see this was an infant of at most a year, not a toddler as he'd expected. Furthermore, though Angelique's colouring was darker than his own, there was no question that this little one was African, with skin the same color as black walnut and an inky fuzz of hair. Lucius held the illuminated tip of his wand closer to the sleeping boy, frowning in confusion and trying to fit together the pieces. Had she birthed a second offspring so soon after her first? And where then was bastard conceived by his injudiciousness?
A sudden teal light filled the nursery a split second before a crushing pain threw him from before the bassinet and sent him staggering across the room. He spun around and hissed "Expelliaramus!" but the spell was ineffective because the witch standing in the doorway of the room did not hold a wand. Instead her left hand was outstretched towards him and her right palm was open towards the baby, simultaneously shielding her son while sending another volley of light towards him. This one he managed to deflect, and it rebounded off the invisible barrier she'd created and gouged the opposite wall.
She shouted something in a language he did not understand but guessed was the local Bantu dialect, and he spat "Silencio!" but her words had not been a curse; it was evident she had no trouble with wandless and non-verbal magic, and she was instead trying to communicate with him. She raised her hand to her throat to undo the effects of his charm and, once her voice was free, gasped in English:
"Stop! Who are you? What do you want?"
He did not reply or lower his hood, instead sending a jet red light in her direction, but she twisted to avoid the Stunning spell.
"Enough!" Both of her hands came together in a deep, echoing clap, and Lucius found himself suddenly immobilized. She flew first to check on the child which was, by some miracle, still asleep (he suspected her shield charm must have blocked noise and light as well as magic), before crossing the room to rip back his hood.
At once, confusion clouded her expression and she released him from the bind. "Lucius Malfoy? What in the name of all the gods are you doing here?" It had been foolish on her part to end his incapacitation, but he did not move to attack her once more. He was very aware of a bone-deep, bruising pain in the hip her initial spell had struck, and he found it suddenly difficult to remain upright. At the moment, it seemed more likely he could lie his way out of this mess than fight from it.
"Hello Angelique," he began evenly. "It's been a long while... how are you?"
She stared at him, incredulous. "How am I? I wouldn't worry about that if I were you. You'd better start explaining yourself if you want to leave this place in one piece."
"Yes, yes, alright," he agreed hastily. "I came because..." The best lies were founded on a kernel of fact. "I wanted to see my child."
The dubious expression did not leave her face, but it began to harden. "Your child? There's no child of yours here."
"Well obviously not here," he gestured impatiently to the cradle. "I can see that, I mean the one of mine that you were pregnant with when last we spoke. Have you misplaced that one or...?" he drifted of snidely. A flash of pain flickered over her features but they then settled into cold lines. She looked almost angry.
"The baby was stillborn, Lucius. The baby that still would not have been yours, I might add."
Lucius felt a rush of emotion that he could not immediately decipher, and at the same moment his leg gave out. He sat down on the floor, hard. "Stillborn?"
"Yes. A girl child who never drew breath in this world." She stared at him, her dark eyes inscrutable. "But that was more than two years ago. Why are you here now?"
Lucius had never even considered the horror of a lifeless infant— difficult as the miscarriages head been, he'd believed that if Narcissa could make it past the first few months their troubles would be ended. The idea that she might carry a child for nine months to be paid at the end with only pain was unfathomable.
Seeing no other option, he continued tell her some semblance of the truth, though if she knew his actual motives he would be lucky to escape with his life. "My wife is having difficulty bearing an heir."
"So?" Angelique challenged. "There are dozens of healers to better assist you with such matters. With your gold, I would imagine you can buy the time of the very best."
"We've consulted them, they can find no reason that it should be the case. I wanted to find you, to…"
"Yes? To?" Her tone was sharp. "To what, Lucius? Steal my baby since she cannot have one of her own?"
"No!" he defended quickly, "Of course not, I would never imagine doing such a thing." The real reason was far worse. He rubbed his face in helpless exhaustion. The relief he felt at avoiding the dreadful task he'd been sent forth to undertake was nearly overwhelming, but it did raise other questions. "I suppose I just wanted confirmation that I could be a father. That somewhere was a healthy child to whose making I had contributed. That these miscarriages are not somehow my fault."
It worked: her eyes softened at last and he could see that she believed him. With a sigh of empathy, Angelique sank to the floor beside him and laid a reassuring hand on his arm. "Oh, Lucius. I am sure it isn't your fault, or anyone else's. Sometimes these things happen. The maagd that helped bring my little ones into the world— both the living one and the dead— could find no reason that my girl should not have lived as her brother does now. Still…" she frowned. "To sneak into my house in the middle of the night? I could have slain you before realizing you were not a stranger. What were you thinking?"
"I didn't want you to know I'd been here." This much, at least, was entirely true. "I'd promised you to have nothing to do with the baby and I didn't want you to know I'd broken my word."
"Not very wise," she sighed, "But I suppose no lasting damage has been done. Let me see your leg, I'll make a poultice for it," she offered, but he was already shaking his head and dragging himself to his feet.
"I've been gone from home for a long time, I need to get back at once." Flying straight home at top speed would still take him over forty hours, and even that was not a tenable option. He could not safely travel in daylight; there were too many remote villages that he could not possibly hope to avoid them all, and it was still essential that he avoid detection as he had no substantial justification for being in the area. However, he quickly calculated that he could cut nearly a thousand miles from his journey by flying to the southern tip of Italy— public floo networks were notoriously mismanaged in the country, infrastructure some of the worst in Europe, and with a bribe or Confundus charm he could get to Milan in minutes and remain anonymous, cross to Switzerland from there, and anyone with a substantial number of galleons to their name did not need to justify their reason for being in Zürich. He doubted he could get from Zürich to London through regulated means without notice, but at that point it would no longer matter, as he traveled frequently between the countries anyway; the vast accumulation of Malfoy gold was not contained merely to Gringotts.
His desire to leave at once was not solely motivated by his wish to see his home and wife once again. Lucius had noticed his left arm beginning to prickle and itch earlier that afternoon, though the magnitude of the task he'd believed lay before him had not allowed him to dwell on the significance of this fact. With the unpleasant matter behind him, not nearly as unpleasant as he'd feared it would be, the knowledge that the Dark Lord would be calling him imminently and he would have no way to respond to the call weighed heavily on his mind.
"I'm rather surprised you didn't try harder to kill me," he told her idly as she led him from the house. She gave a short, bitter laugh.
"I would have without hesitation had I not been afraid of a curse hitting my son— you know that no shield will stop an Unforgivable. You're lucky I did not find you in the kitchen."
He nodded stoically, feeling very fortunate indeed.
Wednesday, 18 October 1978
Lucius returned shortly before dawn to find Narcissa had come back to their shared bed. In the days following her ultimatum he had slept alone, as she had presumably moved across the private salon into the opposite room, but his pride had forbidden him from ascertaining this fact. Feeling he could breathe a bit easier seeing her returned, he moved cautiously, both in attempt not to wake her and also to avoid further aggravating his numerous injuries, but she sat up before he could make it even halfway across the room.
"Are you…?"
"Fine," he managed through gritted teeth. "I'm fine. Go back to sleep." The unpleasant aftereffects of the Cruciatus Curse generally faded within a few hours, but in the throes he'd badly wrenched the leg that had been hit by Angelique's spell and now he could scarcely put any weight on it. She ignored his command and padded softly over to him, examining his face in the semi-darkness for signs of new injury. Her fingers moved over his neck, chest, and arms, firm but gentle as she sought hidden damage. "I'm fine," he repeated, but a hiss of pain escaped when her exploration found its way to his hip. "Damn it Narcissa, stop!" he growled, pushing her away irritably. She gave him a hard look before turning and heading in the same direction that he'd been inching, and after a moment he heard the sound of running water. By the time he arrived, there was steam clouding the windows and mirror, and Narcissa had added gently perfumed bubbles to the claw-footed tub. When he entered the room she wordlessly unfastened his robes and slipped them from his shoulders, inspecting him for bruises or abrasions as she worked, dabbing dittany on any cuts she exposed in the process of undressing him. Upon revealing the worst of his wounds she made a soft, scolding 'tut' sound.
"Get in the bath, it will help. I'll go see if I can find a salve that will get rid of that."
He obeyed, albeit suspiciously. However she was right; almost at once the hot water began to relax his tense, tired muscles, and he leaned back with his forearms resting upon the cool porcelain on either side of him. It was a relief that his left one no longer seared as it had for nearly four days beforehand, and the Mark had faded from seething black to its usual red once more. His head lolled against the rolled towel Narcissa had placed there and his eyes slid shut as he grew indolent. He felt his pale skin growing flush with the heat, and the stabbing pain in his hip dulled to a muted throb. When he heard his wife reenter the bathroom, he did not bother to look over as she assiduously shuffled objects on the vanity.
"Feeling better?" she asked with a hint of amusement, and Lucius merely hummed in assent. One eye cracked lazily as he heard her approach, revealing to his gaze something silver and glinting in her grasp.
Like a striking snake Lucius's hand shot out and curled around her wrist in a crushing grip, slamming it down on the unforgiving lip of the bath. She gave a wretched cry and the straight razor she'd held dropped ineffectually into the water. "What the hell were you thinking?" he snarled, sitting upright and not easing his vice-like pressure.
"That you needed a shave!" she returned with furious indignation, even as tears of pain welled in her eyes. It took a moment for him to absorb her words, but upon spying the badger brush and bowl of foam she clutched in her free hand he relinquished her at once.
"And you thought the best way to tell me that was by coming at me with a damned blade?" he asked harshly, but his alarm and anger quickly melted to chagrin as he watched her gingerly massage her abused joint. "Are you alright?" he continued in a softer tone, fishing the razor from the water to sheepishly hand back to her.
"Yes," she sniffed, refusing to look at him. "And I wasn't coming at you with a blade, I was about to say something before you lashed out like that!" Abruptly Narcissa shook her head, as though reprimanding herself. "No, you're right. It is my fault. I forgot for a moment…" She did not finish the sentence but she did not need to; it was apparent she had momentarily forgotten the sort of man she'd married, and his reaction to a perceived threat was only what she ought to have expected.
"Lie back," she commanded, more coldly than she meant to. "If you've quite gotten over your nerves. You look dreadful, it's embarrassing enough that Bella and Rodolphus saw you in such a state last night and they're family. I won't have you spend another minute looking so slovenly."
Lucius hesitated, warily tracing her movements as she dried the blade and set the other accoutrements nearby. He trusted no living creature with a knife so close to his throat— not even his elf, which was magically-bound to obey his word. "I'll do it myself once I'm finished."
"Nonsense. You'll stay in the bath for at least ten more minutes; the powered moonstone I added should permeate by then and then we can sort out that hip injury." Her tone left no room for arguments and she placed one finger under his chin to tilt his head back. He opened his mouth to object once more, but he caught sight of her wrist— reddened and already beginning to show the blossom of bruises from his rough handling— and kept silent.
She moved with considerable confidence and skill. It would actually be a rather pleasant sensation if he were able to suppress the feeling of panic at his undefended state. Lucius comforted himself with the knowledge that she probably had no idea how to properly slit his throat— likely she would cut straight across the windpipe, a messy injury to be sure but if he acted quickly he could survive it. She would not think to sink the blade into the flesh on the side of his neck just beneath his jaw to effectively slice through his jugular and carotid arteries, leaving him incapacitated and dead from blood loss in moments. Another thought occurred to him suddenly; murder was not the only skill of which he would have suspected her ignorant. "Narcissa, where did you learn—"
"Don't talk," she chided, tapping his mouth with the soft pad of her fingertip before resuming her methodical motions, drawing the strap across his cheek in neat, careful strokes. If she could feel his tension each time the razor touched a particularly vulnerable area she did not comment upon it, and at last she set it aside to check her work. This sensation he was able to fully enjoy at last, the feeling of her thumb and forefinger slowly tracing the contours of his chin, stroking his upper lip, and brushing over his neck in a feathery caress. He attempted to repeat his question from earlier but she silenced him this time by draping a hot towel over his mouth and gently wiping away the last vestiges of shaving cream.
"There," she breathed softly. "Much better." She straightened up and gestured to a vial of orange potion on the countertop. "For your leg. I'll have elves send breakfast up, if you'd like. You should rest."
"No, I'll take it in the dining room with you. I'll likely have to go in to the Ministry today. I imagine the pile of post waiting for me is..." he exhaled sharply in annoyance and shook his head. Narcissa hesitated.
"I... I've sorted it, I hope you don't mind. I wasn't sure when you'd be returning and if there was an emergency I thought it would be best if I attempted to manage rather than let it run unchecked, or at least offer an excuse to buy more time." It was not the first time she'd rifled through his letters, but despite a natural inclination towards secrecy he doubted there had been any missives unfit for her eyes. Anything he'd want to keep from her would not arrive by owl, and on the off chance it did it would certainly be encoded."I haven't felt the need to reply to any except for those from your mother, but I didn't think you would be bothered by that. I sorted them into different piles for Ministry, investment, and personal matters with the oldest on top and anything that looked most urgent flagged."
Lucius breathed out slowly and gave a brief nod. "Do not make a habit of going through my things," he warned, but there was no real anger in the chastisement.
"Of course," she agreed quickly. "It was all rather dull anyway," she added with a glimmer of humour before slipping from the room. When she had shut the door behind her, Lucius closed his eyes once more and sank back into the bath with a heavy sigh, rolling his head slowly from side to side to relieve some of the tightness in his neck. It seemed she would not question him further regarding what had happened in Uganda, and he was glad for it. Though he had not planned to lie, there was no need for her to know a full account either; after some consideration he realised it mattered very little whether or not there had been a child for him to do away with. The salient fact was that he would have done it. For her, but also for himself: if he could have only one son and heir, it would not be by some thoughtless dalliance of pure but un-pedigreed blood. In this instance, there was no great difference in letting her believe he had committed filicide at her behest and actually performing the crime.
He wondered if he might feel guilt if he'd had to go through with it, but, as he ran his hand thoughtfully over his newly-smooth jaw, Lucius did not believe he would.