Hello! It's been a moment. I am working away on the next chapter however, it was becoming more beastly than usual. So here is a brief interlude. We will return to the regular programme schedule soon.

As also may have noticed, the project chapter count has changed...

This is an estimation, not a fixed point. I needed breathing room in the next couple of chapters to iron out some details, however, I don't think that this will mean that the fic goes much past the original 25 chapters.

Anyway, as usual, thank you to the glorious Canttouchthis who is basically my editor at this point. If you all fancy a new murder - mystery Dramione fic that will blow your minds, check out her new WIP - Absolution

TW - Death, violence, substance abuse and I think that's it. If you see anything more, please let me know and I shall amend.

Without further ado, enjoy!

The pure and simple truth

is rarely pure

and never simple

- Oscar Wilde

Chapter 21 - Intermission: Cicatrize

04:05 am, 9th of September, 1999 - Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, UK

Abraxas Malfoy folded his hands in his lap as he watched over his daughter-in-law. He knew 'Cissa had been struggling with the separation of Lucius and Draco, and it pained him that all he could do was watch from the heathenish gilded frame as she popped the cork on yet another vial and poured it down her throat.

A droplet of blue peeped from the corner of her lips and trickled down her chin, leaving a diaphanous trail of poison in its wake. Her pale lashes fluttered against her cheeks as her eyes rolled. Slowly, as if falling through water, she tipped back onto the bed, her arm outflung, the vial held precariously between loose fingers.

"I thought the old girl was coming off those despicable things?"

Abraxas hummed contemplatively as Armand Malfoy entered, the rough voice of the ancestor echoing through the frame. The elder fluffed his luxurious velvet robes around his feet and assumed his portrait pose. Once content, he peered out of the corner of his eye down at 'Cissa, as if she were an oddity at a zoo.

Abraxas twitched his nose.

"She had news this evening," he said, nodding his head to the parchment that lay abandoned on the desk.

"Do we know from whom?" Armand rasped, the scant traces of his french seeping through.

Abraxas folded his arms across his chest and watched the slow rise and fall of 'Cissa's chest.

"Not yet."

19:56 pm, 9th of September, 1999 - Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, UK

Nicholas Malfoy twirled the feather quill around his finger as he leant forward, an absent soothing habit he had picked up over the years. He raised on the tip of his toes, trying to get a better vantage point of the letter that 'Cissy was staring at, whilst her coffee grew cold.

She had stumbled into the parlour not twenty minutes before, her eyes were bloodshot, her skin sallow. It had been painful to watch her beauty deteriorate, lost to the little bottles that clinked in the jewelled boxes she coveted. Nicholas had taken it upon himself to record the dosages, just so when the delightful Miss Parkinson came, he could direct her to the various stashes.

'Cissy sniffed and reached a questing hand for her cup, not looking away from the parchment. She fumbled and bumped her way across the side table, knocking aside the fifteenth-century statue. Nicholas winced as it fell to the floor and rolled under the chair, just as an almighty clatter sounded. 'Cissy yelped and snatched her hand back from the cup and saucer that rolled and toppled to the floor, shattering upon impact.

Nicholas shook his head as 'Cissy stumbled from her seat to the floor, and began collecting the fractured chinaware into her shaking palms.

Such a magnificent fall from grace. A true work of art in her solemn sadness.

Nicholas' eyes wandered back to the parchment that she had left unfurled on the desk. Distractedly, he turned his body away from 'Cissy, and began to read.

20:05 pm, 9th of September, 1999 - Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, UK

Septimus Malfoy tapped his chin as he surveyed the board. Armand was a fiend to play. He was truly a master strategist, a conniving Machiavellian through and through.

If not a little odd.

Septimus looked up at the sudden alarmed rasping wheeze, to see Armand slam the chair he had been tipping back to all fours, a look of fright upon his wizened face.

Septimus raised a brow.

Armand pursed his lips and looked away.

Septimus turned back to the board. He had always thought it a shame that some of the greatest chess minds had been alive in the last three centuries or so. It made mastering their moves all the more difficult from within his lacquered confines.

But he recognised the Rubenstein trap when he saw it. The next move would be Knight to e-four, but what could he do to bel-

Nicholas burst through the frame, jolting Armand and Septimus from their thoughts.

"They have him," he gasped, bent double, hands on his knees. Armand turned and somehow managed to peer down his nose at Nicholas who stood above his seated position.

"Whom?"

"Draco," Nicholas said, gulping a breath. "It's begun. The blood chose him. He's had the full inheritance."

Every morsel of Septimus' form ran cold. Well of course it would choose Draco, he was brilliant, a true testament to the fine houses. Armand blinked slowly, losing the devil-may-care manner in which he generally existed.

"So it has begun."

They of course had known this would happen one day. Ever since Lucius the first had uttered the secret of Marcellus' lineage to that damned sect of alchemists, they had known that there would come a day when they came to collect.

Movement caught Septimus' eye as Abraxus entered the frame.

"You told Druella?!" he exclaimed with a forceful backhand against Nicholas' shoulder.

"I didn't mean to!" He rubbed at the offending site. "She got in my way on the way here. You know how she likes to sit in the fruit bowl. She wouldn't let me pass through!"

Abraxas pinned Nicholas with a furious glower.

"Who told you, 'Braxus?" Septimus asked gently, the thoughts in his mind already working the strategy.

"Margot," he said, "who overheard Druella telling Brutus."

Nicholas paused. "Ah."

"Yes, 'ah'," Abraxus mimicked as he turned to pin Septimus with the same look.

Septimus had always found it touch unfair that the artist had managed to capture the preternaturalness of Abraxas' eyes, whereas Septimus had been left with a slight limp, given his artist made his one leg shorter than the other.

"What's the next move?" Armand rasped through the heavy silence that settled in the portrait.

Septimus looked from each of the men to the board before him.

Ever since that day that Lucius the First made that deal, an unspoken line had been drawn through the Malfoy ancestry - those who thought the sacrifice for the cause to be worthy, and those who thought it to be pig's swill. But as is their way, alliances were brokered in quiet. Frames were shared with enemies for centuries.

And in secret they planned.

The anger that had been simmering for centuries at the betrayal to their family had been kept close to the heart in each and every one of them.

Septimus eyed the Knight.

They had done all they could over the years, utilising what minimal magic they possessed to learn. The living Master of the Manor would procure books for whichever side of the unspoken line he allied with, knowing that one day they too would need the knowledge.

And the things they had learnt within the strange two-dimensions was cursed - that they knew for certain. Cursed, but necessary.

For how could they enact revenge on a painting? How could they possibly seek to move freely, to claim what they were owed after the betrayal?

Septimus had instilled as much knowledge as he could into young Draco. This next moment was all on him to survive. Should he do that, they would be waiting on the other side. A sprawling network of portraits who had moved their locations across the world, hidden in plain sight.

But until then, they would deal with the blood that is owed from the ancestors who betrayed their family.

"We leave," he said, moving his Bishop from the corner to swipe the Knight. A gambit move. "We leave tonight. Go to the hidden spaces. When the Alchemists come for Draco, they won't want witnesses. If they see us here, they'll destroy these paintings, and we shan't be able to return."

"But Draco?" Nicholas said, his eyes wide.

"He's on his own for now." Septimus leant back in his chair and rubbed a hand down his face. Armand leant forward, moving his Queen to assume the space Septimus' Bishop left.

"Check," he whispered.

Septimus moved a Pawn to take the Queen. "For now, we wait and deal with our beloved family. When Draco survives," he said slowly, looking between each of the men, "we'll be waiting for him."

Armand moved his rook down the board, opening his left flank. A cornered move.

Septimus moved his Bishop.

"Checkmate."

15:32 pm, 12th of September, 1999 - The Tate Modern, London, United Kingdom

Hesper Gamp sat in repose in his portrait, watching the muggle comings and goings. Though he found the view to be dreadfully dull during the day, at night the gallery was rather a rambunctious place to be.

It was also a fantastic place to hide.

Ever since Brutus and Lucius the First delivered the news of young Draco, they had all gone to ground. Now it was simply a matter of waiting. Waiting for centuries of hard work to finally come to fruition. Finally, the knowledge that had been kept just out of their mortal reaches would be brought down to the world, and they could witness it, in all its glory.

He would admit however, it was taking slightly longer than he expected.

Any day now. All he had to do was wait and believe.

He watched a young couple walk beneath his frame, each holding a stack of old books in their arms. Surreptitiously, he scratched his nose as they looked the other way.

"Found you."

Hesper had enough time to look over his shoulder before the knife split his form's throat. An icy sensation spread through him; a burning of cold fire. His hands scrabbled at his neck, feeling the gaping slice as strange moisture gathered in the cut.

He looked up at Abraxas with wide eyes as the ice spread and fear drowned his senses. Abraxas' silver eyes flashed like the black blade he held in his hands.

"Family always comes first," he growled, before receding back into the shadows of the frame.

Hesper scrabbled at his neck, panic ravaging his body as his movements became clumsier, less coordinated. In seconds, he struggled to shift from his contorted position. In moments, all that remained was the ability to blink.

A minute later, he was gone.

An elderly woman passed beneath the frame and paused, an introspective look upon her face as she took in the tortured expression of the executed man.

"Truly exquisite," she muttered, before moving on.

09:21 am, 16th of September, 1999 - The Moscow Kremlin, Moscow, Russia

Cygnus Black yawned, stretching his arms high above his head from his seated position.

Any day now. They wouldn't have to wait much longer.

Movement caught his attention from the corner of his eye just before ice spread through his body.

"Nothing personal, old chap."

Cygnus' hands held his side as he gaped up at Nicholas, who lazily wiped a black blade against his breeches.

"Except," he drawled, a small smirk upon his lips. "It is entirely personal."

Cygnus helplessly reached after Nichlas' retreating form, overtipping the balance, only to end in a crumpled heap on the floor of his portrait.

18:42 pm, 19th of September, 1999 - Zhōngguó mófǎ bù, Beijing, China

Rhodope Malfoy sighed and looked down at the pond. The Chinese Wizarding dignitaries always took their time congratulating themselves after another success, which always involved several courses of an ornate feast. And after that, they would retire to stand on the veranda, just out of ear-shot.

It was usually terribly droll. Except for this time, they barely touched their food. The conversation had been tense, set upon discussing the recent upheavals and some creature incident in the mountains.

Any day now.

Any day and this monotony would come to an end and finally everythin-

Ice sliced her spine, spreading from the nape of her neck. She opened her mouth, a scream in her throat as she looked back, only to see Armand's cold grin.

"Hush now dear," he cooed, as he yanked the blade from her spine.

Ice encased her, seizing her lung, strangling her scream. Armand casually lifted an arm, and gently pushed her into the pond.

Armand spun the black blade between his fingers. Only a few left. He turned to leave and saw a Magistrate looking between him and Rhodophe's legs that were stuck out of the pond.

"Yé mán hāg hóu!" Armand said, bowing to the bewildered wizard, before pocketing the knife and slipping from the frame.

06:07 am, 21st of September, 1999 - Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, UK

Margot Malfoy Née Vaillancourt stepped forward from the shadows of her frame. She ran her fingers across the writing desk as she watched the strange woman pause at the library door. The woman rolled her shoulders and stepped out into the corridor, a look of dread upon her face as she looked to the scene beyond.

Margot had watched her quietly all evening gather her books. Elemental magic, veela, vilenjak.

'Bloody Draco,' she had said, before leaving.

But what was the point in researching a dead man?

Unless…

She smiled as the strange woman set off down the corridor, a look of determination upon her face.

Margot turned and smoothed her skirts before setting off herself.

She had to find Septimus.

She had to tell him that Draco had survived.

...How are we?

Find me on tumblr - ThusAtlas

I shall see you soon