Hullo Hullo lovelies!
I've had most of this chapter written for ages. AGES. So it wasn't hard to finish it off. In between not writing for a long while, the last chapter gave me far too much trouble until I decided to just focus on the Ron/Regulus interactions I'd had planned. Can we tell how much I adore writing about those two?
My tumblr: indiebluecrown. tumblr. com
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.
Monday, September 24th, 1979
Potter Manor
"You're only bringing this to me now?" Dorea asks quietly, standing in front of her fireplace, the orange flames are low and gently caressing the logs inside of the firebox.
"I always planned on giving it to you," Abraxas says, a genuine inflection in his tone, but she is backing him so she can't see his face. All she sees is the angry red lines carved through the logs as they burn, and non-verbally she summons a few more with a dismissive flick of her wand. The flames crackle, hiss and eagerly lap at the new additions, and almost immediately they swell with invigorated fervour.
"You better have a good explanation, Abraxas."
It is the crack of dawn, and colour is slowly bleeding into the sky to greet a new day. Ten minutes ago, Abraxas had requested an abrupt visit; his Patronus—a lithe panther—burst into her bedchamber and awoke Dorea and Charlus.
Dorea told Charlus to go back to sleep, she would handle this. The man, bless his heart, had repeatedly asked her if she was sure as she slipped some sheer, black robes over her midnight blue satin pyjama top and matching shorts. Dorea insisted that she would be fine, and having full confidence in his wife, Charlus did as she asked. His soft snores trailed after her as she silently left their room and headed for her personal study.
There she'd opened the floo connection to Malfoy Manor, her wand in hand. She sat on the lip of her desk, and waited for her old friend to appear.
When Abraxas arrived, he had barely stopped to press a chaste kiss to her cheek before he dropped a rectangular item wrapped in cream coloured fabric on her desk; a thin, black ribbon is tied around it. At the time, she swore the hissing sound she heard was all in her head, now she isn't so sure.
Dorea pulls her thin robe around her, the silky fabric brushing against the backs of her legs as she did so. The tongues of flame from the fireplace eagerly lick at the air in front of her, and as much as they try to reach her, they fall short every time.
"Tom gave it to me several years ago for safekeeping. I gave him my word that I would never utter a word about it. He bestowed it upon me just as it is before you," Abraxas sighs heavily, and she hears a rustling sound as he adjusts his robes around him before he takes a seat in one of the armchairs in front of her desk.
"It reeks of dark intentions and tainted magic…at the time I convinced myself that it could not possibly be what I thought it was, and until our conversation, I did not dare allow my thoughts to linger on its existence."
"What about after our conversation?" Dorea grits out, sharply whirling around, and her hands fling out to the sides as she stalks towards him brimming with blatant rage. She is surprised she'd managed to stop herself from throttling him up until this point. They'd made an agreement to work together, he should have brought it to her much sooner.
Abraxas raises his hands in surrender, grey eyes widening, and Dorea stops just mere inches away from his chair. Dorea properly takes in his attire now, and thinks how funny it is that even before the sun has risen, he cannot leave the house without dressing 'properly'. The wizard is wearing black trousers, shiny Italian leather shoes, a black, long-sleeved button down, and a short navy blue travelling cloak that is fastened around his neck and adorned with a glinting sapphire.
"One must never show your entire hand, you of all people should know that. One can never afford to place blind trust in people," Abraxas says, his words low and somber.
Dorea narrows her eyes at that, it is a fair point and she cannot really fault him for his decision; but that does not mean she isn't still livid.
Dorea blows out a frustrated exhale of air, placing her hands on her hips as she strolls away from him to the other side of her desk, and she stares down at the item he'd brought with him.
"Why are you giving it to me now?"
"I planned on giving it to you when the time was right…and it appears that time has come," Abraxas shrugs, lowering his hands to his lap and straightening himself out.
"How do I know this isn't some ploy? How do I know it's what you're implying it is?" Dorea asks, her searing gaze examining the object before her; a flap of the cloth had fallen onto the desk when Abraxas placed it there, exposing the top of the black spine of the book and a hint of cream pages.
"The more important matter at hand is how do we destroy it?" Abraxas inquires. As if prompted by his words, a dark wave booms out the object, a viscous darkness explodes into the room.
Bony fingers enclose around her throat, applying sharp pressure, and Dorea claws at them, only for the sensation to wisp away. She gasps for air, her chest heaving.
Abraxas makes a movement as if to stand, concern printed starkly on his features. Dorea waves a hand dismissively, and he curtly nods before settling back in his seat.
"I may know a method or two," Dorea says, catching her breath.
Fingers shaking, she picks up the edge of the cream cloth between the tips of her thumb and forefinger, and carefully lays it back over the object, obscuring it from view.
"Dorea."
"Abraxas."
Unwittingly, her hand moved forward, hovering over the clothed item. She dared not touch it, but there is a compelling, entrancing pull that whispers in her ear, but what if you did?
"Dorea."
"Yes?" She tugs her hand free from its captor, laying it on her abdomen. This must be the diary Hermione spoke of, it is far stronger than she could have ever imagined.
"You must swear to me that if anything goes awry in the days to come, you will provide refuge for Lucius and Narcissa." The sepulchral tones punctuating his speech draw Dorea's attention, and she yanks her gaze away from the vile object.
"I swear. Of course I do, Brax." Dorea frowns at the strange request. Abraxas is a cautious, wary man, but he would not have asked such a question if he didn't have an inclination that future events would not work out well in his favour.
"Is something wrong, Brax? Do you think he suspects—"
Abraxas shakes his head, a serene smile affixed to his fine features. Dorea rounds her desk, hands on his shoulders. Abraxas's smile tightens, and he raises a hand, the backs of his fingers brushing lightly over her cheek.
"Do you remember when we were in fourth year. A seventh year made some untoward comments against your honour—"
"And you and Theodus decided you were going to challenge him to a duel on my behalf?" Dorea finishes, mirth playing across the curve of her mouth. In their youth the pair had seen themselves as her honourable knights. It was tragic that they'd grown apart so drastically over the years.
"You beat us to it. Hexed the bloke before we had a chance."
"That does sound vaguely familiar."
"I'd wanted to be the one to save you," Abraxas says, his voluminous pale lashes fluttering as his burning gaze turns to her. "I was always happy that someone as strong and brilliant as you was promised to me."
"But I fell in love," Dorea says, filling in the ending to that chapter.
"But you fell in love," Abraxas echoes hollowly, his fingertips graze her skin once more before he drops his hand back into his lap.
Dorea had made things dreadfully difficult for her Mother when she'd requested to break the marriage contract between herself and Abraxas. However, it ended rather amicably as Abraxas hadn't fought its severance. He'd cornered her one evening, looked deeply into her eyes and said, "if it's what you want. I will let you go." Neither of them ever spoke of that evening again.
"If something is truly wrong, Brax. You can trust me. I'll help you, I swear it on my Mother's grave," Dorea says, taking his hands in hers. A flicker of raw emotion swirls in his grey eyes. Something she doesn't wish to name, although she knows exactly what it is.
A breathy laugh escapes his lips, a genuine smile blooming and lighting up his whole face. "I know you would, Doe. Despite my earlier statements…I trust you, without hesitation."
She wishes he would trust her enough to confide in her. "What's wrong?" Dorea asks, her voice cracking as it leaves her lips. She is practically pleading for him to confess to her.
Abraxas rises to stand, and Dorea takes a step back to accommodate him. His hands slip from hers, moving instead to cradle her face. His hands are larger than she remembers. "Nothing for you to worry about, love." Abraxas leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead. It feels like he is trying to be her knight once more. Pain rebounds through her chest.
Abraxas removes himself from her entirely, his footsteps solid yet soft as he strides away, halting in front of the fireplace. Dorea turns to face him, staring at his wide back and the careful way he is holding himself. He takes a handful of floo powder from the cloth pouch hanging beside the fireplace.
"I will see you soon," Dorea says. Abraxas partially turns towards her, a smile like a gentle summer's breeze present. "You are always welcome here, Brax. You know that right?"
"I do," Abraxas says. The smile is still in place. "I am glad that in spite of the circumstances…we were able to mend our relationship. I have missed being your friend, Doe."
It sounds like a goodbye if she's ever heard one. She isn't prepared for a permanent farewell.
"Abraxas—"
"Thank you, old friend. I hope you know you've built something remarkable here," Abraxas gestures absently at their surroundings with his free hand.
"Why does it feel like you're saying goodbye?" Dorea asks, and in a rare show of weakness, tears well up in her eyes, burning painfully. One betrays her, scorching a trail down her cheek as it escapes her grasp.
"You always were a thing of beauty, Dorea Potter," Abraxas says. A serene yet lugubrious look on his face. He backs her. "Malfoy Manor!" He shouts as he throws the floo powder into the fireplace.
The orange flames turn green, grow a life of their own, roaring like serpents. He doesn't look back as he marches into them, pride wrought throughout his stature. And in a flash of green flames he is gone, and Dorea is left to her own devices. The flames die down, and all that is left are embers and burnt logs.
Dorea pulls her robes tighter around her person, her exposed flesh stinging with cold. A tundra is left in his absence, and fear broils in her gut.
It was the last time Dorea Potter laid eyes on Abraxas Malfoy.
Please leave a review and let me know what you think x
