Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lessons with Lucius
"So that's the bossy one, the one that's wetter than the dampest of damp rags... and the psycho would-be sadist... Right! I shall return for the rest anon.
Ta ta, prisoners mine! This is not 'au revoir', but merely 'à tout à l'heure'!"
Lucius landed at the top of the Grand Staircase.
The house was almost as dark as the dungeons had been. To save money.
He supposed that was a good thing. For the sake of the children's eyes.
Releasing the clutch of said ensnared children with a shove, he flicked his wand. The candles in the immediate vicinity began to light one after another. Only every fourth candle.
For the sake of the children's eyes. Well.
To save money, mostly. Candles were a needless extravagance. So said the Dark Lord, Lucius recalled, bitterly. Lucius had long had to eke out an existence for himself and his family from leftovers. Whatever was leftover, essentially, from the master's Political Propaganda Parties (for which no expense was spared).
Angered at this latest reminder of his increasingly extremely reduced circumstances, Lucius Malfoy roughly slashed through the bindings around the children's legs. And Rose's arms.
"Take this down, Weasley!" he snapped, setting off down a corridor at a pace.
"You will study for ten hours a day-"
The children instinctively followed the only adult in the group. Lily jogged to keep up.
"-I permit two hours of breaks, in total, during which-"
He was conscious of a mewling or bleating of some kind.
A childish attempt to speak through a gag.
"Shut it and listen, you daft bint! Two hours only of breaks daily, during- Why are you not writing this down?!"
He condescended to remove the gag.
"Mr. Malfoy!" bleated Rose.
He resumed his march.
"during which, I expect you to wash, dress, eat-"
"I don't have a pen or quill!"
Thrusting a hand into a trouser pocket, he threw a ballpoint pen in Rose's direction with barely a backwards glance, continuing to walk and talk all the while.
"-eat all meals-"
Rose dived.
"-and take a daily walk-"
She cupped her hands around the pen.
"-come rain or shine."
He stopped. Raising an eyebrow, with a tilt of the head.
Good reaction times. Good reflexes. Potential to make a good duellist. And seeker, such that Scorpius shan't rest on his laurels-
"I don't have any paper!"
The whining has to stop. Immediately.
He removed his green snakeskin pocket notebook, ripping out a single sheet from within.
Lucius Malfoy held the champagne-coloured parchment out. Rose made to take it.
He held it almost within her grasp. Slightly too high. And higher. And higher. Slowly. Incrementally.
She stretched instinctively right up onto her tippy toes, with her arms stretched right up into the air.
Reasonably flexible. No apparent difficulty or discomfort. All indications, one hopes, of good overall strength and fitness.
That would mean less risk of injury. And the tedium of delays, for treatment and recovery.
Now to deal with the whinging.
He let the page go.
Again, Rose hastily and instinctively dropped down to retrieve this latest item.
Lucius Malfoy pressed the toe of his boot into her back, kicking Rose to the ground with a sudden, slight application of pressure. He placed his wand in the back of her neck. Against the hairline.
Rose froze. Silenced. Without any application of magic.
"You will direct any and all future queries, for stationery or otherwise, to my elves and slaves. And you will not address me, unless spoken to. I will not tolerate snivelling complaints, or begging, or pleadings, by you, or any of your relatives. Neither will such conduct be tolerated by members of my family, nor my guests. Including the Dark Lord.
Get UP girl, and write all this down, damn it!"
He stepped back, skimming her thoughts, entirely indifferent to the hurt and injustice she felt about the fact that she had been unable to attempt to get up when pinned down under his boot, and yet had been shouted at. Let alone, it would have been a dangerous thing to attempt, and risk provoking him in his anger.
His anger…
Speaking of which.
He ought to get on. So as to get back for the Potters, father and son, that remained imprisoned, as soon as possible...
He continued his march to the nursery-cum-schoolroom.
Rose had been minded to attempt to free her cousins from their remaining bindings. But now didn't dare.
What to do about the little boy? Hardly in a position to be trained if he won't talk. But mollycoddling is out of the question. And how best to punish Potter's eldest...
Neither did Rose have the confidence to ask Lucius Malfoy to repeat what he had already said.
Speaking of Potter-
"You will rest your eyes for five minutes for every hour's study."
She tried her best to keep up with writing the latest stream of orders.
"I don't want any of you needing glasses. And becoming ugly. Like your father. Academics and attractiveness are exceedingly important. Both in this house, and in our organisation."
Rose was trying and failing to frantically scribble the rules. It was very hard, walking fast, with nothing to rest on. And the pen was very low on ink.
"You are to be housed, educated and fed at my expense." Well, the Dark Lord's expense. Which was one and the same thing, Lucius supposed. "I expect total obedience and diligent, sincere efforts to educate yourselves on the part of you all in return. In this house, we are not averse to punishing small children for idleness and other suchlike infractions. In." he clicked his fingers, pointing past the door he held open.
Albus led the way into the nursery. Resolved not to show any sign of how afraid he was.
Without his Dad, and now James, he was determined to take charge. It's what his dad would do, he was sure.
Bear the brunt of any anger.
Protect Lily at all costs.
Lily was littlest.
She was only six…
He was far more grown up. Able to look out for her.
Being eight, and all.
Lucius grabbed the page from Rose, skimming it.
"Pathetic," he snarled. "You must learn to take notes properly!" He scrunched it into a ball. "And not attempt to write down every single word I say!" he threw the screwed up note, striking Rose on the nose.
She blinked away her forming tears, at the pain. And humiliation.
"If any of you cries in this place, ever, I will give you something to really cry about. That means stop it. Now. Understood?"
Rose nodded frantically, and scrubbed at her eyes.
Seeing her cousin's distress at this latest threat, and herself overwhelmed by the ordeal, Lily began to cry. Noisily.
Albus ran to her. But realised he couldn't hug her. His arms were still tied. So were hers. He attempted to shush her, urgently.
"SILENCE! If I MUST spell it all out for you: if you CRY, complain, fail to educate yourselves sufficiently, attempt to rebel, or in any other way cross me or disappoint me… I am not averse to killing children. If you didn't know."
He did not raise his voice again. He didn't need to.
He surmised that they were stunned into silence. In terror.
Before their little tea party… He had arranged the nursery. A blackboard was faced by six neat, wooden desks. In two rows of three. With matching wooden chairs. Straight-backed. Hard.
No cushions of any kind. Naturally.
They weren't exactly here to enjoy themselves.
Lucius enchanted some chalk, which began to write the house rules on the blackboard. Along with their timetable.
"Voilà. Since it would seem that you are not so clever as all that, Wealsey, and are incapable of writing a mere list of instructions. Meaning I must do everything under the bloody sun, in this God-damn place, as usual."
He looked at his pocket watch.
Lucius Malfoy had acquired a great many watches in the course of a long life, replete with many milestones. Cherished them.
A gift from his father. On the occasion of his NEWTs results.
One from his father-in-law. A close friend and confidant of his father's, and his own Godfather. A present on the occasion of his marriage...
A gift from his son, a Father's Day present, when Draco was still a boy. In his OWLs year.
One from his wife. Presented on the occasion of their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. A real year to celebrate. When everyone thought the Dark Lord was long dead and gone, at long last.
And his own father's watch, which had belonged to his father before him, and so on. A Thomas Tompion timepiece. The very first watch with a spiral balance spring, by all accounts. Passed down the many generations for over three-hundred years. Inherited. Which he had always intended to bequeath to his firstborn son. Draco. Safe in the knowledge it would pass down to his grandson, his son's firstborn son. Scorpius.
The watch that Lucius held now…
It was quite new. And cheap.
One which he did not intend to get attached to.
A recent replacement.
The only watch that had not been purloined by his Lord and Master.
Yet.
Lucius mastered himself. And repressed his urges. Well, tried to.
His urge to collapse to the floor. To scream. And cry. And bleat words to the effect:
What the HELL is my life? How the bloody hell did it come to all this?!
What the hell have I become?
Or something stronger.
He closed his eyes. And breathed.
In, one, two, three…
Not in front of the children.
And out, one, two, three...
We mustn't lose face in front of our inferiors.
In, one, two, three…
It's just a bloody bit of metal. Just a functional object.
And out, one, two, three...
Remain detached and move on. Focus on the task in hand.
That was what Severus always said. That was how he coped.
Well. 'Coped'. If coped was the right word-
He snapped the watch case shut.
"It's gone twelve now."
And snatched his pen back from Rose, shoving it together with the watch into a trouser pocket.
"Study until one o'clock, before half an hour for lunch and your walk, combined. I'll have some sandwiches made. Then you're to study for four hours, followed by half an hour for dinner. Yeeees. Bed 6:30 for 7:00. Rising at 6:00 for 6:30 in the schoolroom. And the commencement of your working day. Lucky you. Only five hours of lessons today. A veritable half holiday. Enjoy it. I don't anticipate you'll have any others anytime soon."
Albus attempted to speak, determined to clarify things, even at risk to himself.
Lucius huffed, condescending to remove the boy's gag, and untie his arms. He saw to Lily's bindings, while he remembered.
Albus raised a hand.
"Please, Mr. Malfoy."
His sincerity was by now only partial.
"I don't exactly understand. What won't we have anytime soon? Holidays, or time outside lessons for fun, or-?"
Quidditch with Scorpius was a possible eventuality. But not for a good long while.
"Shut it, boy! I won't warn you again. No more questions."
Lucius would break them in. And any extremely small comforts offered up over time would appear to be veritable luxury compared with the severity and austerity of the first four or five weeks. Regimental discipline. Spells of isolation.
Like Sandhurst for six-year-olds, the Dark Lord had said. But with even more reading. And less marching. Probably. Cleaning with toothbrushes, yes. All that sleep deprivation… Possibly. They would see.
Lucius had had to look Sandhurst up. The school for would-be British Army Officers, apparently.
The pathetic gratefulness and adoration would come. Much, much later. When some glimmers of something beginning to resemble a normal childhood began to appear, over the coming months.
Eventually, they would become accustomed to studying for long stretches. And would be rewarded for their efforts with ample opportunities to gad about with their families. Their cousins and siblings. Not the parents, of course.
But not until they had learnt to obey Lucius Malfoy and his household immediately, and without question, at all times.
Then the love and all the rest would come, with time.
When they had forgotten their parents entirely.
When they'd call the master 'Father'. Spontaneously.
Affectionately.
At which point, the Dark Lord would have the ultimate prize with which to torment Harry Potter. At which point, he would feel free to kill the man. At the zenith of his humiliation.
But the fun did not stop there, oh no. The Order would need to be taunted. Let alone, defeated.
A year until Hogwarts for James. Three years for Albus and Rose. Five years for Lily. Six for Hugo.
A great deal of time to work with.
A whole academic year a quarter was easily feasible, and this rate. And the youngest would have plenty of time to repeat, and take in whatever they hadn't understood the first time, as they got older. More mature.
They might even speed things up with ageing potions. Get the magic out quicker, trigger precocious puberty and get them onto their wandwork soon as possible. Sod the musculoskeletal effects. And the psychological ones. They were going to become soldiers in this war sooner or later, anyway. And none of the Malfoys were happy. Why then should Potters or Weasleys have that luxury?
But they would have the best education placed at their disposal. All sorts of schoolmasters. A dancing master. A music master. Masters for painting and drawing. For quidditch (each would play for the Slytherin team at Hogwarts. Provided none outshone Scorpius). Not for their entertainment, you understand. Suitably strategic betrothals could be proposed, as long as they were married by the time they left Hogwarts (if not before, where the girls were concerned: the Dark Lord had yet to decide whether to lower the age of consent to 14. Or 12...)
Once the master had Harry Potter's sons, the rest were incidental, it would seem. An apparent heir. And a spare. And some sundry marriage material.
That was the plan, as far as Lucius Malfoy had been able to ascertain.
Of course, could one ever know for sure what the plan was, where the Dark Lord was concerned?
There was his preference not to take others fully into his confidence. And his incompetence. Which is to say. He constantly changed his mind. All the fucking time.
Still, it would be a great shame if the girls were married off at such young ages, Lucius was sure.
After all. He was expected to train them. Why should he devote possibly up to four, six years, give or take, to cultivating Rose and Lily, only for some precious princeling attached to some allied army to benefit from his prowess and expertise?
There was certainly some potential there. For duelling, for interrogation. He'd see if he could bring the Dark Lord round on his usual policy (no more women recruits). Or, at the very least, get Rose and Lily married off in house, as it were. Keep it in the family. Perhaps Scorpius.
Really! That was an idea!
Of course, the boy would have his choice! He presumed Lily would be preferable. The Wealsey woman- girl, he corrected- being an insufferable know-it-all. Just like her mother.
Of course, there was always the distinct possibility that the Dark Lord would have his own plans...
Lucius wouldn't put it past Voldemort to seriously contemplate a match for himself. Marriage to Potter's child, for instance. The girl Lily. Some show for the public. The forces of Darkness and Light. United as one…
Lighten our darkness, we beseech thee, oh Lily!
Yeeees. That sort of thing was right up the Dark Lord's street. Never mind that he was 89. And she was six.
Even if he said he'd wait. Six, eight years- No, no, no. No. That really wouldn't do. That sort of thing was not on. Even Lucius had to draw the line somewhere.
Lucius and Severus could both prevent such a betrothal between them, he was sure.
Far better that Scorpius should get in there first.
It would protect her, if she were publicly pledged. Waiting until she was of marriageable age.
And secure her future. If the Dark Lord did, indeed, ultimately win.
And secure his grandson's. If the Dark should lose-
"No, you may not sit down, children! If I have to tell you again, I'll crucio the lot of you!"
How might the ageing potions affect all that? The marriage question?
He supposed there was time to go into the finer detail later...
"Kreacher!"
Lucius snapped his fingers.
With a crack, the elf appeared promptly.
How odd.
"Get Winky! And one of my slaves! From amongst the lot I purchased this morning." From the Oxford group Severus had trained. "The hope is that at the very least one of the three can read. If not, there's always my wife's Welshman. He's probably still in the shed. Assuming he hasn't got out, somehow... Likely her Pole really speaks no English, and it's not just an act."
This was, of course, largely for Lucius's benefit. Not the elf's.
The monologue apparently at a pause, Kreacher replied:
"They is in the kitchens, Master, Mistress's Husband, Sir! The new muggle slaves scum!"
Kreacher's voice quivered with excitement, as he gave a deep bow.
"Bloody bring one to me! The first which confirms she can read and write. QUICKLY!"
"Kreacher will did so, with pleasure, Master Lucius Master, Sir!"
The elf disappeared with another crack, grinning profusely.
Again, he had received a deep bow. Any bow from the elf fullstop was an oddity.
Lucius wondered what the significance of all that could be, along with that of being addressed as 'Master' and 'Sir'.
He was well aware that Kreacher held him in contempt.
Having been reared in households solely comprised of snobs, the elf was, naturally, himself a prize prig. And thus looked down on Lucius Malfoy. Matter of professional pride.
As far as Kreacher could see, Lucius was not nearly outwardly servile and devoted enough to his master to be respectable. Not exactly a credit to the profession. That of being in service.
Hence his superior attitude.
No doubt, much as he ordinarily looked down on 'Mistress's Husband', whom Kreacher regarded with disdain, the snob that the elf was, he was delighted to oblige in anything concerning the humiliation of muggles. Delighted at the prospect of power over his inferiors. That was more than likely.
Lowlier than the lowest of elves, muggles were to serve wizards. But they couldn't possibly do so well, in the humble opinion of any elf you cared to ask, muggles having no magic.
"Little Lily, my Love! Go to the bureau and remove three notebooks, and three quills. Any colour will do, so long as you don't fight over them… Albus Severus! Get three first year Charms books. All titles and authors are on the board. Focus on the theory first, the practical will come. Then transfiguration, followed by potions, after lunch. Rose! Sort the ink. The roses have somehow lasted, by the by. They smell beautifully of lemons. That's what you've got to look forward to shortly: a nice picnic lunch and a walk! You won't see them of course, as you'll be blindfolded. So you won't be able to go up to and smell the flowers. Because of the prickles. What a pity!"
"Aren't we also going to risk hurting our eyes by reading by candlelight?" Rose rattled off. "Wouldn't it be better if we adjust to not sitting in complete darkness all day first? With the candles always on, before-"
"Has anybody ever told you that you're an insufferable know-it-all?"
"Yes!" She nodded, earnestly. "Frequently!"
"And that you take-"
"-take after my mother? Yeah! I know! She's so proud. So am I!"
Rose grinned for the first time in a very long time.
Lucius rubbed his eyes.
"Right, I'll get you some water. Well, one of my elves will. Or slaves. And does anyone need a loo break before we begin? Where is that bloody- KREACHER! Bring Winky while you're at it! Winky? WINKY! Jesus Christ, that bloody Kreacher creature's got her under his thumb again… They hardly ever bloody answer to me these days, if at all. Only to my wife and the others… Although they're always late for the Dark Lord, funnily enough. Right. Don't go anywhere. I'll have to sort out your drinks and sandwiches-"
"Why are you suddenly being so nice?!" demanded Lily.
"Hmm?"
"You were being so horrible to Rose before! And you made ME CRY!" she retorted, accusingly. "Apologise!"
Lucius chuckled.
Children can be so funny. So childish, and yet so grown up, at the same time.
"You threatened to kill us just now!" cried Albus. "You nearly actually killed me!"
"Oh yes. I had forgotten. In fact, not quite. I said I'm not averse to killing children."
Lucius's smile was warm. And genuine.
"I don't understand what that means!" Albus complained, earnestly frustrated.
"It means you obey me. Immediately. Without question. Sweet Severus."
Lucius pinched the boy's cheek, in mock affection.
Albus batted him away.
"My name's ALBUS!"
"You answer to Severus now. That's an order."
The Dark Lord's order.
"See to it that your school things are in order. That means get them. Now. Or you'll soon find out exactly what 'I am not averse to killing children' means!"
Lucius smirked, satisfied as Rose and Albus Severus variously cried orders at each other, and scampered about, aiming to find and gather the notebooks, quills, ink and textbooks, as Lucius Malfoy called out his commands. They were doing their best to avoid burdening little Lily between them, apparently.
Bless them.
Of course, he wouldn't really kill the children. Well, not at this juncture. That went against orders. The final decision on all that, either way, rested entirely with the Dark Lord. Who really did appear to be keen on the prospect of raising them as his own. For the time being.
Well, according to what he had told Lucius. Which completely contradicted what he had told Severus.
For now, Lucius would do what he was told. And compare notes with his only remaining friend.
And between them, they would try to work out what the bloody hell was going on. As usual. Day to day. Muddle through. As they always did.
Thus Lucius observed Rose Weasley frantically taking the lead in trying to instruct her cousins in the first year Charms syllabus, attempting to copy hand gestures from the diagrams with neither wand nor magic, in an effort so futile as to be richly comic. Delivering her lecture from the blackboard (well, reading from paragraph one, Chapter One, 'On Levitation') like a little lamb.
"Rose!" called Albus. "What does 'not averse to' mean? He said he's 'not averse to killing children'!"
No, Lucius Malfoy wouldn't kill the Potter or Weasley children. And, to the best of his knowledge, they would likely live.
"I don't know, Albus. Sorry! I would ask Mum, but- But-"
But they didn't know that.
A/N
Dun dun duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun!
So Voldemort has told Severus that he wants to kill the children. And he's told Lucius that he wants to raise them as his own.
Which do you think is the truth? What he told Severus? What he told Lucius?
Or none of the above?
Possibly something entirely different, seeing as he doesn't like to confide his plans fully in others.
Possibly, he hasn't quite made his mind up, either way.
I wonder whether he is giving them a trial as his would-be adopted children. While keeping in mind the deadline he told Severus.
That's seven weeks...
(Whilst editing this, I had an image of the Dark Lord listening to 'I can't decide whether you should live or die' and singing along in his office at the top of his voice...)
Anything could happen!
Let me know your views, in the comments or messages! What do you predict? What would you prefer?
Oh the tension! Just think of the children! Won't somebody PLEASE think of the children! (I heart Mrs. Lovejoy 😍)
On a slightly more serious note, I would also be interested to know your views: how much sympathy, if any, ought we to accord Lucius Malfoy? He contemplates doing something unspeakably horrific to Harry Potter (how seriously I am not so sure, but still). He threatens to kill small children, shouts at them, makes them cry and roughs them up. All without guilt. (Do you think he really would have slit Albus's throat? Or did he know precisely what to do so as to only appear to be in the act of doing so?)
But he is in a pretty awful position. I don't think that excuses his behaviour at all. But he sees Harry Potter and his family and the Dark Lord's obsession with them as underpinning much of his current suffering and the demands made of him. Lucius has probably gone slightly (if not completely) mad, in the Dark Lord's service. For a reminder of the nature of his situation, see Chapters Six, Seven and Eighteen. Also, if you haven't read The Fate of the Faithful, my short story, yet, that is 'canon', as far as I'm concerned (and what precisely happened to Lucius's and Severus's parents and who did what will be explored here in this story). (No spoilers here for those who want to save the surprise. But if you have read it, or plan to: reflect on how Lucius might have come into his father's watch. And how that must have felt. Before, to top it all off, losing it again, and to whom...)
Chapter Twenty-Eight is pretty much ready to go, it has been for a while, so you've got that to look forward to on Saturday, all being well. That or Monday next, it may be better to spread things out a bit. Nothing whatever at all to do with my plans for Friday night... (We've lifted some of the total lockdown in the UK and I may get a little merry or more come Friday into Saturday my time, so I'll do my best not to forget/ be too delicate in the morning! 😉 Possibly best then if I aim for Monday to be safe: check both days in case!) Thirty's more or less there but Twenty-Nine still needs a lot of revisions and edits so… If you haven't read it yet, I hope The Fate of the Faithful will keep you going for now.
Also, I've got some brilliant fan art in store for you, if I do say so myself. Well, you be the judge! Some paintings I've prepared here and there for your delectation. I'll share those in instalments first (working out the logistics of that at the moment) and then, if any readers would like to make any contributions, with proper credit attributed to each and any of you budding artists, I would be delighted to host them 😀 Details on how to variously view and submit works to be confirmed in the near future. Sad Severus. Vain Voldy. Heroic Harry, rescuing the kiddies. Or something entirely different! Start sketching! I'll start uploading and scheduling!
The United States won in March for the "Where will Severus flee to" contest, for the most total reads. Closely followed by Canada, with third place going to China (that is an intriguing prospect indeed, seeing as Voldemort has had dealings with the Chinese authorities! Might Severus inform on the Dark Lord for them, double-crossing MI5?! China needs to catch up, if so!) For last chapter, I had four apparent fastest readers, the Philippines, Israel, United States and Canada, so you each get an equal point for that.
In April, the UK is winning for the most reads, followed by the US, then Mexico. But the month is yet young! And I will of course monitor which is the fastest reader country tonight. (Edit: just within an hour of my uploading, everything changed: US in first, Germany in second, Mexico in third. Hard luck, UK readership: you've been relegated to fourth! Gosh, you're fast this months: equal points for fastest readers awarded to Bolivia, Canada and Germany!)
It's so close! Everything's still to play for, lads and lasses! If you're routing for a particular country, be sure to tell me which part you're keen on (e.g. UK readers: which Home Nation, or north, south, east, west, coast, mountains, desert, city, countryside or wherever in your own country!) As usual: comment, or message! (Also I'm aware that some may be working or studying abroad so, again, message if you think you are a fastest reader and want your home/ origin country, rather than country of residence, or whatever! A few in the UAE are reading along, if you are all Emiratis great but if you're expats and you want to take part, you've only to drop me a line, same applies to any readers wherever you are in the world 😀)
I am always keen to hear your views and interpretations but I know what is going on behind the scenes, where it's not spelled out, so you're also very welcome to ask any burning questions (such as "Is Luke Lucius Malfoy?" 'fraid not! But keep 'em coming!) To the reader who had a request about Severus and vampirism: we'll address something like that shortly, either way!
And as usual, hit me with any plot requests, character pairings: I'll be sure to fit them where they work, and to credit your idea 😊 (or not, if you prefer to remain anon)
Take care! Ciao for now!
MBSP x