So I've dedicated one chapter to a special Slytherclaw correspondent, who has been very encouraging and forthcoming with a variety of valuable views and fantastic feedback, as well as a delight to chat with in general (do check out StickyKeys1's writings, everyone: a brilliant and brilliantly prolific author she is too);
I've also dedicated one chapter to one valued correspondent who was a bit nervous about leaving reviews and who was worried about a lack of ability in English, I believe, and as much or as little as you're able to write in messages, I'm always keen to hear your views.
Many thanks again to you both for your continued support xx
I'd like now to dedicate this chapter to a special correspondent who has been very poorly and correspondingly away from the website for a year or so, who wrote recently with apologies for not writing back in all that time. I won't mention names but that person knows who that person is. And I want to say thank you again for coming along in 2019 and encouraging me to take up writing the story again and showing so much support after I'd myself been away from the website for years. That person is responsible for me returning in the first place to the website to write everything beyond Chapter 9, and my other stories since, basically. So thanks so much again, hope you're better now and hope everything's going ok. And if not, don't worry, step by step and you'll get there and it'll all be ok in the end. And if it's not ok, it's not the end, as a certain someone once said xxx 😊
Thank you also to each of you who have favourited and followed the story lately, and to everyone generally for reading along, some of you are my correspondents and reviewers, some of you read silently but just as avidly: really appreciate all the ways in which people are engaging with my writing, really spurs me on, all your messages, the views, reviews, the people who open the chapters instantly and keep rereading the story, favouriters, followers: it's brilliant that you want to read my work and I'm so very grateful for all your time (awwww you guys!) 😊
Sorry, this update was obviously not meant to take so long, long story short to those who don't know already: I lost 100k-odd words of future chapters, couldn't bring myself to rewrite it all fom scratch and was away from the website, very kind techy friend helped me recover my stuff very recently (so we should thank that person, too!) It's not a Saturday or Monday but I am probably not free those days this coming week so as I had time to edit it today I wanted to get this out for all you very patient keen beans. I was happy with Chapter 30 when I wrote it months ago (unlike this which you may recall needed multiple drafts!) but I often rewrite or double chapters in length when I sit down to do the "final" edit, so when that happens I'd rather do the "final final edit" another day and upload here when it's finished than rush it: follow to be sure of not missing an update, and all that, but I'll aim to get Chapter 30 off in the next week (same deal for A Warlock and A Gentleman: decent current chapter but I want to make it even brillianter! Yes Bobby/ Rose that's not a real word but it should be and what are either of you going to do about it?!)
Onwards with the story!
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Pride and Purity
Lucius looked again at his watch. And leaned on his cane, tapping his index finger against the snake head, impatiently.
He would not call the elves again. But would give them a bollocking for keeping him waiting.
He would train Kreacher to respect him, damn it. By hook or by crook.
A manly man. The head of an ancient and noble lineage. He would not defer to anybody. Well, barring the Dark Lord. He was the exception.
An exceptional man in many ways-
Lucius Malfoy did not turn at the loud crack.
Any arriving elves ought to approach and address him. And he did not intend to acknowledge them until they had been suitably servile and obsequious in his presence.
He did not maintain his cool composure for long.
"LUCIUS LYSANDER OBERON MALFOY!"
"OWW! What the bloody hell was that for?!"
Lucius Malfoy's tone was injured, confused, and genuine. Literally hurt.
"Mordred!"
He was not in the habit of getting thwacked from behind on the back of the head.
"Jesus Christ!"
Nor was he accustomed to getting slapped about. Repeatedly.
"What the actual-"
"HOW DARE YOU SNEAK OFF TO BUY SEX SLAVES THIS MORNING?!"
Oh.
"Darling! Please! Not in front of the children!"
Not for their benefit, you understand. We must not lose face!
"THEY'RE BARELY OLDER THAN CHILDREN-"
Narcissa Malfoy stared at the nursery's set up. And its occupants.
Her tone changed. A chilling whisper that would be a credit to Severus Snape. As would the sarcasm.
"Yet another grand plan of yours you've attempted to hide from me, it would seem-"
"He only told me to bring them this morning!"
"YET YOU'VE HAD PLENTY OF TIME TO REDECORATE, I SEE!"
Back to the shouting.
Well.
Screaming.
Lucius nodded in a way which he hoped was pleasant yet final. A polite acknowledgement of his wife. But a sign that she was dismissed. That he was otherwise occupied.
"I must let you get on, my love: I've a charms class to teach- FUCK!"
"BASTARD!"
"ARGHGHGH! Jesus CHRIST-"
"YOU. COMPLETE. FUCKING."
Each pause was punctuated with a strike.
"ARSE!"
A pummel with a fist in the face.
He rubbed at his stinging cheeks in a delicate manner.
"Is this about the slaves?"
All of it?
"YES!"
"But darling, we've talked about this!"
Again, he attempted a smile.
This one was debonair.
Effortless.
Well. It looked it.
Quite hurts, actually. Smiling serenely when you've been punched all over.
"I had to go to the slave sales this morning! I'm the Lord Chancellor!"
"So you keep reminding me!" Cissy snarled. "Fat lot of good it's done us!"
"I have to encourage others to bid for the lots! We've invested so much in these slaves, we have to get returns! So I have to go along and put in a few bids, to drum up interest. Don't you see-"
"They're all no older than 18 and TWO of them are blond!"
"With glasses! Be fair!"
"One of them has glasses! And you made her take them off in our presence!"
So she had established.
"Dearest- I- What can I say?"
"The truth, Lucius!"
He shrugged.
"No one else bid for anything and so I ended up bringing home a few things I didn't really want-"
"You were in a bidding war with Percy fucking Weasley, of all people!"
Ah.
She did know her stuff then.
Who was the source?
"Darling: it was Weasley! Don't you see?"
"I see my husband is a philanderer with a MUGGLE fetish-"
"Nothing of the kind! I assure you! Daaaarling! I was simply saving time by not elaborating on the detail. I did make the initial bids. Weasley entered while the price was still low. I tried to hike the price up a bit. Hoped someone else would enter. Wasn't to be. He bowed out quicker than expected (of course he did! The peasant pauper that he is!) and here was I, left with measly Weasley castoffs. Ah well. Such is life-"
"AH WELL? AH FUCKING WELL?!"
"Sweetest-"
"We can't afford to fucking EAT on days when he's not throwing a party- And you go and spend TWO-THOUSAND GALLEONS? On fucking slips of GIRLS?"
"Dearest! Everyone thinks we're swimming in cash-"
"We haven't had money for YEARS-"
"I couldn't lose face to Weasley and have him outbid me, now, could I? Could I?"
A high-tenor, warm, bright, cutesy voice.
"Hmm? Could I? Darling?"
A voice which he reserved for his wife.
And girlfriends.
And boyfriends, for that matter… (Well. If Severus and the Dark Lord counted...)
Albus whispered to his sister.
"What are you doing, Lily?!"
"I'm colouring in!"
"But we'll be in trouble!"
She glanced behind her at the adults. Then back to Albus.
"No we won't!"
She smiled, brightly.
"They're talking in front of us like we're not here. Like we can't hear. Like all grownups do."
She looked at her colouring pencils, which she'd filtched from the bureau. And looked again to her brother.
"Do you think his hair's more yellowy, or white? Or a bit of both, maybe?"
"Seriously, Lily, stop! You heard what he said!"
"Yeah!" piped up Rose. "We'll be punished for frivolous conduct, or something!"
"What's that?" chorused the other two.
"Mucking about!"
"It's ok," said Lily, looking again at Lucius. She judged that he'd need a lighter blue than navy for his cloak and robes. But not a really pale one. In the middle. Probably yellow for the gold, too.
Embroidered brocade, as it happened.
"I don't want you to be hurt, Lily! I'm your big brother! I'm in charge, and I say stop mucking about and giving him reasons to punish us- punish you. I don't want you hurt!"
"Don't be scared, Al."
Lily's smile was a relaxed one.
She was at peace. Methodical. Determined.
"I've done it in the back of my notebook. So he won't find it!"
"Why won't he find it, Lily?! He's gonna check your work later!"
"Yeah." She picked up a peach crayon for the skin. "And I've done that. In the front of the book!"
"Yeah, I doubt that you've finished your work already. I haven't! And I'm older than you and bigger than you!"
"No, I haven't. But I will. When they start looking at us again."
So when he checked her work, it would be finished. And she wouldn't be in trouble.
He'd only look at the first few pages, she knew.
Not at the back.
She glanced over her shoulder, head to one side. Staring in a very overtly-covert manner.
She contemplated the kind of argument they were having.
Full of big words she didn't understand. And some swear words she did.
She nodded. Finally. Decisively.
"They'll be a long time. What colour do you reckon her dress is? You guys?"
"Mauve," said Rose. "Here, can I join in?"
"Do your own!" said Albus. "Don't draw attention by coming over to join. If you must draw!"
Each was sat at their own desk, separated.
Rose made her own indiscreet-discreet glance.
"Lily's right. They hardly know we're here. Al….? Do you reckon we could walk out? And they wouldn't notice?"
"Surely you don't care about vile verminous filthy muggles that breed like rabbits and are all promiscuous and all that?"
"Care?! For them?!"
"What's all this: they're barely bigger than children? Well what of it?!"
"I care about my husband being seen to indulge in such filthy habits in PUBLIC! What will all our society friends think?!"
"Oh. Well that's good, then. I thought you were becoming all soft. Like Severus. Trying to save the poor pathetic worthless vile verminous-"
"Yes yes yes. We'll take all the rest about muggle slave scum as read. Poor Severus. He always was such an odd fellow. I suppose some people give money to donkey sanctuaries."
Even wizards.
"Meaning?"
"Everyone's got a bizarre delusion or cause of choice. Perhaps it makes Severus feel better about himself?"
"In what way?"
"Well, taking it upon himself to feed the muggles so they don't starve in that daft prison of yours and his! Isn't that why people get pets? It makes them feel better. Feeding them and stroking them and so forth?"
Lucius shuddered.
"A nice cat perhaps but- Fancy stroking a muggle of all the vile things. They're all almost as appalling as half-cast halfblood spawn. Muggles."
The mere existence of halfbloods, in Lucius Malfoy's mind, was an utter abomination.
The sullying of such pure blood.
Not that he'd said as much to Severus...
"Give me a rat or a toad any day, instead!"
"Then why, if you are so appalled by how grotesque the muggles are… Did you bring three youths of the female variety… INTO MY FUCKING HOUSE! YOU GREAT STEAMING NITWIT OF A PILLOCK!"
"All our society friends have sex slaves too!" Lucius whined. "The Dark Lord's encouraging it!"
"That's as may be but they're not bidding on them in PUBLIC!"
"But darling, you don't understand! Percival Weasley was bidding! I couldn't let him get away with it-"
"THREE, Lucius?! Three young women you've brought home to take to bed!"
"But they were, err, oh, I say- Oh look well I- might as well come out and say it. But you've spoilt the surprise now."
Raised eyebrows more scary than those of Severus Snape answered in reply (and that really is saying something).
"They were presents, for you, dearest! My love- When have you ever known me not to treat my darling wife like the queen that she is-"
"You call slavegirls a gift fit for a queen?!" snarled Cissy.
"Well they are in a manner of speaking, aren't they? Isn't that what royalty have? Slaves? To do everything for them?"
"Servants. I suppose."
"Well let's not get pedantic about semantics. Servants, then. Fit for royalty. It amounts to the same thing, doesn't it? Only the best for the best woman in my life! I thought they'd be a nice little gift for you, dress making or embroidery or something. Isn't that what muggles do? Things with their hands? Instead of with magic? Dearest?"
Could it be… had her eyebrows risen even higher?
At this ridiculousness…
"Erm. Well then they could. Help with your. Hair and makeup-"
"ARE YOU SAYING THAT MY HAIR AND MAKEUP ARE NOT GOOD ENOUGH?!"
"No, no! Heaven forfend at the prospect, my dear-"
"We're getting rid of them. NOW!"
"Weeeeee?"
"I'm coming with you. Knowing how weak-minded you are!"
"But I- But. But. You can't!"
"I'm not having you keep sex slaves in my house, Lucius!"
"It's my house!"
"You are going to get our money back at once."
"But Cissy!"
"Don't you but Cissy me!"
"The Dark Lord expects us to have slavegirls, it's part of official policy! It'll keep him happy!"
"Since when has your trying to keep him happy ever achieved anything for us but more unwanted attention and control-"
"Cissy please! You don't understand what I do for this family! The lengths I go to-"
"What do you do exactly, Lucius? Apart from waste what little allowance he so kindly condescends to bestow upon us from our own fucking FORTUNE?"
"I have to host all the parties! It's my job-"
"To submit accounts to him about how many bottles of claret we got through from our own fucking wine cellar!"
"Please! Darling! Think of the gossip! The scandal! You're being ever so loud! Walls have ears!"
"Do you like it Rose? Do you see? I've drawn his big fat tummy!"
Lily passed her picture of the Malfoys to her cousin.
"Oh yeees, I see! Very good, Lily!"
"And the Dark Lord has got a big tummy too. Shall I draw him with one?"
"Don't!" cried Albus. "Then they'll be really pissed off!"
"You shouldn't swear, Al," admonished Rose.
"Oh. People say pissed off all the time, sorry. I didn't know that was swearing."
"Oh. Ok."
"What should I say?"
"Just 'annoyed', I guess."
"They'll be really really annoyed if they see Lucius Malfoy or the Dark Lord with big fat tummies!" admonished Albus.
"They're not that fat. Just a bit." said Lily. "He's only got a bit of a big fat tummy. In real life. And they don't have big boobies. Him or the Dark Lord. They just came out bigger when I drawed them."
"Drew," Rose corrected. "You drew them, Lily. Not drawed."
She didn't correct any of the rest.
I mean. Lily was right.
"Still!" said Albus.
"What?!"
"Grownups don't like being reminded they've got big fat tummies! And Dads in particular don't like being told they've got boobies!"
"Why Al?"
"Just cos they don't, Lil!"
"Oh."
She looked down at her picture of Lucius Malfoy. Contemplating whether or not to rub it out.
"Well they shouldn't have them then. If they don't like them."
Even Albus sniggered, at that. On hearing Rose's snorts.
"Lucius, I haven't heard from Bella for days. You need to find her."
"What do you mean find her? For God's sake: she's an adult witch and more than capable of looking after herself!"
"She's not replied to my letters!"
"She hates writing!"
"AND she's not at home to fire calls."
"Perhaps she is being sensible and keeping her head down, for once-"
"Exactly! it's not like her. I'm worried, Lucius. Do something!"
"What do you expect me to do, woman, for God's sake?!"
"You're the Lord fucking Chancellor-"
"I can't abide females swearing-"
"Surely you have some influence over Him in the matter? You seem to think you do, at any rate. Prove it!"
"All this intercourse is most undignified!"
"Intercourse? For God's sake we're not have sex!"
"You know perfectly well that 'intercourse' means conversation and that to have the other meaning, it must be qualified by the appropriate adjective!"
"Sexual intercourse?! Why can't you even say the damn phrase? Husband dearest mine?"
"You're so very vulgar-"
"Says the man who's just spent the morning buying sex slaves!"
"You remind me of Severus, in many respects-"
"Well maybe I should have-"
She stopped herself.
"Yes?"
"Never mind!"
Married him…
Instead.
"You and he could both do with taking a course in wizarding etiquette from me. With taking a leaf out of my book-"
"HA! You're a fine one to talk!"
"As for the slaves. They're for you and embroidery and all that-"
"Oh FUCK off you jumped up, tiresome, pretentious, puffed up git!"
What could he say in reply to that?
"For God's sake, man! Grow a spine and stop avoiding the matter in hand!"
"At hand," muttered Rose.
All this shouting was scary.
Noting vocabulary and correcting grammar gave her something to focus on.
To distract herself with.
"We're taking them back. And then we're going to find my sister-"
"As for your dear sister. At any rate, she is probably fine."
"What if she's in danger?"
"And if she is, then there is certainly nothing that you or I can do. Bella has been publicly shunned. And now, if she has disappeared, there is no earthly reason to risk our reputations-"
"You heartless BASTARD!"
"Bastard," muttered Rose. "Like bar and bath and calf."
A dark 'a' on the first syllable.
"Then how's that spelt?"
"Our position! Our wealth!"
"HA!"
"Is it b, a, r, s? Like car? Or b, a, s? Like bath? With no r?"
"Our health. Our family. Our child; our daughter-in-law. Our grandson. Our very existence, all depends on Him. We cannot at any cost risk upsetting him."
By rocking the boat.
"I've already sent him a letter. At your insistence, I raised the matter."
Of Bella's banishment from Court and subsequent expulsion from the Inner Circle. Three weeks ago.
"If he has chosen not to reply. Then nothing further can be done."
"But Bella's served him for decades! She was the most loyal of all us of! Demonstrably more loyal than you or me. And she's one of his favourites in bed!"
Lucius Malfoy grimaced.
"If she's not safe, then none of us are!"
"Was," he muttered. "Once upon a time. He's bored of her now. He doesn't like fawning any more. These day's he likes sheer terror-"
"Oh so that's why my husband is contender for Number Two these days, is it?! Because he can see how spineless you are-"
"You try my patience, woman. I have been the modicum of proper, wizarding pride-"
"That's not grammatically correct!" called Rose. "You can be the modicum of decorum but I don't think, I'm pretty sure, actually, that you can't be the modicum of pride!"
She was just trying to be helpful.
She would want to know herself. If she had made a mistake, grammatically.
Lucius Malfoy glowered and growled, pointing his wand at the child concerned.
"She's right. He's just trying to use big words to make himself sound more important than he is," called Narcissa Malfoy. "Ignore him, child. Which one is that?"
"Rose Weasley," Lucius spat.
"The offspring of the mudblood and the pureblood? A sullied half cast halfblood?"
He nodded.
Unable to articulate his disgust.
"You shouldn't use that word!" said Lily, indignantly, on seeing Rose's face fall and the tears starting to form and fall.
"Which is that?"
"Lily Potter."
"I could have sworn she was a Weasley. There're so many of 'em."
Lily closely resembled her grandmother, in her youth. With a shock of warm, red hair.
"Well at least she's not halfblood half cast scum. Three-quarters perhaps is better than some. I shan't punish her, then. I presume the Dark Lord doesn't want us to torture them into insanity, or similar?"
"No. Not at present. As far as I have been able to ascertain."
"Are halfbloods stupid? Lucius? Like muggles? If they are half muggle. Or a quarter. As we all know that muggles are imbecilic."
"I'm not entirely sure on that score."
"Then ought we to move the conversation elsewhere?"
"No. We'll do a wipe at the end, easily enough."
"On such young children?"
"Well I mean they are the enemy's children. And we've all gone mad in his service- Somewhat. No reason why they shouldn't either."
'Somewhat.'
Yeeees.
Right.
Obviously he wasn't going to admit the full extent of his suffering. To his wife, or otherwise-
He struggled to quickly cover for himself.
"I merely note that we are all- somewhat- highly strung. Not all that unusual. There is a war on."
"Nicely saved. Not! We were discussing my sister."
"Ah yes. She overstepped the mark and was punished."
"We're setting up a society underpinned by slavery and she punished impudent muggle slave scum! There are hundreds of them all over the place. Thousands! How was she supposed to know that it was his muggle?! He never told us! He's probably shagging her."
"Very possibly."
"And so besotted and gone mad."
"Cissy!" Lucius warned.
The walls had ears...
"There's nothing special about saying so where women are concerned. That's always the way with you men. Going mad over your mistresses, Lucius. Now him."
"You're on very dangerous ground-"
"And now you've brought home these children to be your fucktoys."
Rose noted down the new item of vocabulary phonetically, repeating the word slowly.
She resolved to look it up later.
Although, as it contained the f-word, it was probably very rude, and so not in the dictionary.
Could she ask someone?
Uncle Severus, perhaps?
"Narcissa! I resent that very strongly! They're presents for you. There's nothing further to add."
"HA!" she barked. "I like that very much! Hypocrite!"
"She doesn't sound like she likes it," muttered Rose, puzzled.
"I thought they could help with your hair and make up-"
"Don't start all that again!"
"-draw your baths, look after your clothes, and maybe make you some new dresses. That's the sort of thing muggles do traditionally, isn't it? Make things the slow way with their hands? Go into service, waiting on others? In addition to dressmaking, they go in for embroidery and stuff, don't they, muggle females?"
His voice brightened.
"They might well make nice clothes, actually, for all I know-"
"Ha! That I could believe for a moment! That you want some new outfits tailored for yourself on the cheap-"
"And you know I could only ever be repulsed by sub-human scum, don't you? Darling? Even if muggles are reputed to be constantly gagging for it-"
-He couldn't suppress the sudden excitement in his voice-
"Who's the vulgar one now?"
He couldn't help it. That one. And resented his wife's accusation very much.
"You can rest assured, my dear, darling wife, that I, Lucius Malfoy, would never allow myself to be seduced by vile muggle vermin. My love?"
Narcissa snapped her fingers.
"Kreacher!"
The elf appeared in an instant.
And gave a bow so low he scraped his nose.
"Bring the slave scum again. The new ones. For my inspection."
The elf returned with one human at a time.
"The Polish boy can't apparate."
She was referring to one of her young men in the shed. Her 'gardener'.
"Can these? The new ones? Any of them mudbloods? Or halfbloods?"
"No. Officially we're executing mudbloods. So they can't be bought on the open market."
Enslaving and punishing them was far more fun-
"And halfbloods? Bloodtraitors?"
"He's not enslaving political prisoners. At present."
"Pity. Well then these are of no use to me. Utterly useless in every respect. Even if I do ban you from taking them to bed. Take them back! I'm not having you waste good food on them."
"Darling, please! Think of our reputations! They would pass to Weasley by default as the next highest bidder!"
"You really think the Weasleys want them?"
"Apparently so, I can't think what on earth for. Perhaps they're trying to buy their way into high society. Ha!"
"Perhaps they feel sorry for them and want to let them go."
"I was just about to say that! Honestly, woman. You never let a man finish!"
"Liar. You're bloody impossible. I don't know why I married you."
The charm offensive was tiring to attempt to keep up. Lucius Malfoy dispensed with it entirely.
"You married me, my dear," his voice dripped with venom, "because you were genteel poor."
Snide. Sarcastic.
"It was impossible to marry beneath you, and no other family old and wealthy enough for your precious mother would condescend to take you-"
She slapped him full in the face.
Somehow caught his mouth.
And his nose.
And his eye!
Accustomed as he was to being the stickler for convention, Lucius Malfoy was, frankly, flabbergasted.
He did have some sense of decency. And (at least a few) principles in life.
If... very very few indeed.
Lucius Malfoy found meaning in life in being a Society man.
He was the Dapper Dandy of Diagon Alley.
He dictated fashions.
He called out others for their social faux pas.
He led the way, in all things.
He was, in short, instinctively, inherently aghast and appalled at being struck.
Resorting to fists was no better than the muggles. The filthy, vile verminous muggles. Who bred like rabbits. And dominated the world in their swarms. Forcing the wizards into hiding.
So Lucius Malfoy told his friends.
And casual acquaintances.
Whom he treated better than friends.
All in the course of recruitment.
To the cause.
That of the Dark Lord.
To end muggle-majority rule.
To be replaced by that of the wizarding minority.
Then. He, Lucius Malfoy. Would rule.
Would be in charge. Truly.
Lucius.
And the Dark Lord.
A partnership of equals.
Together!
As he had always promised…
Thus, much as Lucius Malfoy was the sort of man who, an outsider might judge, was the type who might hit his wife. He refrained from giving back as good as he got.
Not out of noble intentions, though, no.
Only out of vanity.
Or are they the same thing?
Out of his clinging, however pathetically, desperately, in the course of this damn war. To his pride.
I must be better than the muggles. I must be above all others.
I am better than them. ALL of them!
Better than Severus, even.
As good as Him-With-A-Capital-H.
The Dark Lord.
The initial string of blows, on his wife's arrival, had caught him off guard. He had been awaiting a house elf. And had been struck about the head.
The excuses and charm offensive had been defensive. To placate. End the onslaught.
Now he remembered her humble circumstances. Her family's social position, compared with his. However relative the difference, it was still immensely important to him.
Then he had made a statement of fact.
Well born. But poor.
The truth.
She had struck him.
The latest of a series of blows.
After a rant about her sister.
Who had been effectively banished for the same offence.
Against a mere, worthless, piece of muggle slave scum.
He considered his position.
And his wife's.
What ought to be an honourable but fair retaliation?
"You are henceforth confined to your rooms."
"Don't be ridiculous!"
"I will see to it that food is brought and the bathroom cleaned-"
"I'd like to see you try!"
"-and your allowance is to be cut off for the rest of the month."
"The measly pittance you allow me of the meagre pittance he allows you isn't anything to speak of anyway! Kreacher! Get me my parasol!"
Since muggles favour tanning, pretentious purebloods prefer paleness.
"Where are you GOING? I haven't given you leave to leave yet!"
"For some intellectual company."
"What? To the Dark Lord?!"
He wouldn't be at all impressed at being asked to arbitrate in the course of a family spat-
"No, you dolt, your dearest pal."
"Severus? You're not-"
His face fell.
"You're not shagging? HIM?!"
"Whatever my own feelings may be in that department… He's not interested. Has some daft principle or other about not being able to do it with someone he's not in love with-"
"How DARE you, woman? You speak so casually of cuckolding your husband with his own best FRIEND?"
"Put a sock in it Lucius. You're hardly one to talk."
"When have I EVER been unfaithful, you bitch of an ungrateful-"
Lucius pretended that he didn't swear, and was shocked by others' vulgarities. But of course he did really. When things came to a head, and he was close to (if not already over) the edge.
"I'm tired, Lucius."
Her voice sounded it.
"I'm tired of all this. Draco doesn't know, I can tell. Somehow. Thank God. It's not for a child to keep an eye out on his father's affairs."
In both senses of the word…
"But a wife can always tell-"
"What on EARTH are you accusing me of, woman? Have you gone soft in the head? Produce this mysterious woman! Who IS she? Maybe you're paranoid enough to think that I'm taken with your deranged excuse for a sister-"
"Funny how you always make time for him. You're always at his every beck and call. Several times a day. Every day."
"I'm his Number Two! Of course I'm by his side. It's business! That's not remotely resembling an affair! There are battle plans, strategy-"
"Have you seen the Early Evening Prophet?"
It came out at lunchtime, daily.
"No. Why? What's in it?"
"You tell me, Lucius. What's the front page story?"
"How should I know if I haven't seen it-"
"Oh, well, if you're trying to be discreet. There's no need. It's in the public domain now. Nothing remotely secret about it."
"What on earth are you talking about?"
"Where did he invade today?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Since you are so involved, dearest husband mine: where did your master invade today?"
Or attempt to invade, anyway…
"Element of surprise, I expect. He keeps some secrets."
"It's in all the papers."
"An official press release, then. Embargoed until the evening paper."
She snapped her fingers.
"Get me the paper, Kreacher."
It was quickly produced.
"See here! On the front page! And the inside double spread! Look at all these men he chose for his special mission, Lucius! Where's your name?"
"What?"
"Where's your name?"
Lucius skimmed the article that was thrust in his face.
And was stunned into silence.
"Lucius? You're a terrible occlumens. You always were. I happen to be the very opposite. And an excellent legilimens to boot. You think pleasuring him-"
"Please! Cissy!" He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Not in front of the slaves! Or the elves! Or the children, come to think of it!"
She continued regardless.
"You think that pleasuring him will get you a good position. Favour. Prestige. You seem to be the only one under the misapprehension that your little arrangement is anything but an open secret. Yet I'm blessed with the fact that it seems to have escaped my son's notice entirely. I suppose he's always looked up to you. And he would like to believe that you really are crucial to the cause, involved in every battle and incursion. FOR ALL THAT THAT'S ALL LIES!"
His wife's ranting made his head hurt.
Not to mention, the shouting.
"What?"
He shut his eyes. And rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand.
"Translate."
"You're prostituting yourself like, like a harlot to the King at Court-"
"The King's favourite Mistress was a very important post, back in the day!" he protested.
"And where's the evidence that it's got you anywhere? Lucy? Other than your fine clothes that he adorns you with, like some kind of exotic bird! Or even a commonplace one! Strutting about, content in its gilded cage. Like the peacocks we used to have before we were forced to eat them! The only one of us, I should add, who's got anything decent to wear!"
"You have no IDEA how damn HARD I work for this family! The lengths I have been reduced to- that I go to! To protect us. ALL of us!"
"Just fucking stand up for yourself, then, if he really is pressuring you. Spend your own money- Our money. For yourself. For your family. Like a real man."
"It's complicated-"
"What's so fucking complicated? Hmm? It's not like he's going to go round seemingly at random killing off his long-standing loyal followers who have such a prominent public profile! If you just ask- Tell him! We're not putting up with this crap any more! His crap!"
"You have had the good sense never to ask what happened to my mother or father. As have I. I have likewise done the same concerning my in-laws."
Lucius was alluding to the usual fates of the Dark Lord's followers. When they got too old. Or asked too many questions. Or made complaints. Or criticised.
Usually corresponding to the time when their children were of age…
Things which were never spoken of.
By anyone.
But which were widely known. Hinted at.
In snatched whispers.
While the speakers looked over their shoulders in the shadows-
That was a part of her brain that Narcissa Malfoy had turned off, as it were.
Compartmentalised.
And suppressed.
The fate of her parents.
It was an accident. Or it was the muggles.
Or. Just. Because of the war.
People always die when there's a war on.
And all such a long time ago.
All the safest things to think.
If the matter ever emerged from the submerged depths of her mind at all-
"He's kept Draco alive!"
Lucius's voice was urgent.
Something resembling a growled whisper.
"He has kept our grandson alive. Even the Greengrasses! I know a great many things that you do not. As to why all that is. Since he is rather taken with me-" He grimaced somewhat. Unable to continue. A very delicate man around what he called 'unpleasantness', Lucius Malfoy.
Of course.
That was entirely natural.
No matter how many times his… encounters. With the Dark Lord occurred.
He never got used to them.
He never would.
Never could.
One never does.
That.
It.
One word. Which only the Dark Lord ever uttered, laughingly.
Since his victims could not bare to think of it.
Let alone say it.
"He has kept you alive. And I. Us."
Because of me.
A particular memory floated to the forefront of Lucius Malfoy's mind.
"Tell me, Lucius. Is it a scary thing?"
The forbidden word, the secret word, which Lucius could not bring himself to utter.
Nor Severus Snape.
"I have read a great many treaties on the subject."
The act.
"Of sexual assault. Of molestation."
Rape.
He could not even think the word.
In the privacy of his mind.
"But I should like to know, all the same. From the horse's mouth, as it were. Not that one could ever compare your mouth to that of a horse, dear no! My dear. Dear little Lucy. You have such a pretty little mouth. Such sweet, tender kisses. I quite like it when you kiss me on the lips, too, haha. Well don't STOP man! CARRY ON! Such sweet, sweet caresses, tender kisses… Down below. At my feet, on your knees, where you belong. Unless you'd prefer me in the saddle, as it were?"
He liked it when they said no.
Him-With-A-Capital-H.
He liked it when they begged him to stop.
He liked it when they fell in love with him.
And begged him to take them.
In the same month.
The same week.
The same day, ideally.
At that point he would cast them aside.
As he had, with Bella.
If they were lucky enough to live…
To survive.
And as for those who never fell in love with him.
Or. Who felt as if they sort of thought they might've. Some of the time...
Due to the strain. And Stockholm syndrome.
Seeking comfort from the man closest at hand.
Before hastily replacing the mask that had slipped.
And papering over the cracks, and the chinks.
Those were the challenges he relished best of all.
Those who shivered.
And quivered.
And recoiled from him.
Always...
It has kept us alive! Lucius reminded himself.
He repeated this aloud.
"But at what cost?" replied his wife.
Our souls?
He thought in reply.
They were no doubt damaged.
From all the killings.
Was there perhaps a worse damage still?
Lucius seethed with an indescribable pain; agonising anguish.
He wished he could heal.
He thought of praying.
Lighten our darkness we beseech thee, oh Lord,
Wished he could collapse to the floor and beg.
And by they great mercy,
Someone.
Defend us from all perils-
Anyone.
-and dangers-
To help him.
-of this night.
His family. To escape. To save them. Spare them!
From the Darkness and Despair of the Death Eaters.
Lighten our Darkness, we beseech thee, oh Lord-
From the Dark Lord.
"I- I-"
What ought he to say?
What was there left that had yet to be said?
"I have always exerted some influence. A great deal, in fact! I can afford others' protection. Limit suffering in this damn war. For those of us deserving of it-"
So he told himself.
So he had to tell himself.
He was a proud man. Of course he was.
Always had been.
Was, somehow, still.
In spite of everything.
"Lucius! You've been taken in by him! You don't have any influence! Not anything much that matters to speak of in the grand scheme of things, anyway! Where were you in this battle? Where were you at this press conference? Look at this paper, see the inside pages, here! The double-page spread of photographs! David Jones, Lucinda Lockhart, Renée and Reece Skeeter!"
The twins.
"Every journalist you could care to name!"
Rita Skeeter had, of course, been retired years ago. The opinion being that she was past it, past 40.
Her kids probably wouldn't last much longer in the cut-throat world of journos and hacks-
"The world and his wife were there! Except for you! Even Roberta fucking Alcott!"
"The slave scum? What? Where?! Oh. I see. Just in the background in the photo. Well that's natural. She's holding his cloak, see? All muggles are good for."
"The report goes on to mention various things about Gryffindor kings and naval strategy, 'as overheard between the Lord Protector and his Secretary, his Right Hand Woman.' That's what they're calling her! He's been planning naval battles with her, Lucius! He chose her! A vile, verminous, good for nothing, stupid muggle is seen as a better strategist than Loyal Lieutenant bloody Lucius-"
"He just fancies her, that's all!"
"Which means he's stopped fancying you. I can't say I blame him. Podgy-"
"Qui, moi?!"
(Who, me? In French.)
"-Old. Badly-dyed hair when grey would be so much more dignified, at your age-"
-Undignified was about one of the worst insults that Lucius could think he had ever been on the receiving end of-
"-All that garish gold, those silks. Brocades! Sooo gauche."
Crude. Unsophisticated. Lacking in grace.
"You can't polish a turd, Lucius. Well, he can try but he fails miserably, the way he dresses you up like a little doll-"
Lucius blocked out the rest of the ranting. Droning on.
His hand shook. He refrained from cursing his wife.
With. Tremendous. Difficulty.
He reasoned it would be unseemly. Ungentlemanly.
He ignored the fact that lashing out would be an admission of how much the truth hurt.
His voice was quiet. Seemingly calm.
Deceptively so.
As he fought to keep it from quavering with rage.
"You will leave my house-"
"It's effectively your master's-"
"-immediately. You may stay with your sister. I shall send belongings on."
"I'll be with Severus-"
"You have the gall, woman, to-"
"We're not shagging, Luicus. Don't be daft. But he knows how to make a cup of tea. And lunch. Funnily enough, he knows how to cook all sorts of things for all sorts of occasions! I quite fancy scrambled egg and salmon on toast. See what he can cook-"
"Go and have your poxy toast then, woman! Instead of a lavish five or more courses here! See if I care!"
"I'm not willing to prostitute myself any more at one of your poxy 'political propaganda parties' in exchange for a sodding meal! Not for a moment longer!"
"We're to have chateaubriand tonight!"
Very posh, tasty cuts of beef, for anyone that doesn't know.
"That's eleven galleons a portion!"
£55.00, $76.00 USD, or 64 Euros.
"And that's in normal times, to say nothing of the current hyperinflation crisis!"
"I haven't been happy for a very long time, Lucius. I want a divorce."
"What?"
He was shocked.
And sounded it.
"May as well come out and say it. Seeing as you've banned me from the house. Nothing else remains other than the gilded cage we're both forced to inhabit. Of our sham of a marriage."
"But the- the disgrace. The social stigma. The scandal!"
"I won't be the one disgraced when the grounds for divorce are laid bare for all to see. Infidelity by my husband. With another man."
Divorce was not tolerated in socially-conservative pureblood society. Let alone homosexuality.
"You want to be pitied at best? More likely you'll get the blame. Society will assume I was forced to turn elsewhere, that my wife failed in her duties to keep her husband satisfied-"
"Oh I think even you would struggle to spin that one. And survive the scandal."
"You would dare even think of antagonising him? Of what would happen if his name were dragged through the mud by salacious gossip-"
"If the threat of it will mean I have a decent shot at getting a decent chunk of my money after. Then yes. You'd have to come up with a settlement. Both of you. Half to me. Do what you will with the rest. He may think he is but he's not above the law of the land. And I know my rights. Fortunate as I am in having had a proper education before he tried to ban our girls from getting the same."
Our of course referring to the wizarding community in general.
Well. Proper young witches.
Narcissa Malfoy only resented the proposal to ban all young witches from learning the same curriculum as their male classmates.
Purebloods, that is.
As far as Narcissa Malfoy was concerned, the 'half cast halfbloods' and the like could learn the rudiments of the Healing Arts and all that stuff that was the preserve of the 'weak-minded'. And be off to work in a shop, or whatever it was that the 'lower orders' ought to do.
The Dark Lord had only not gone through with his ban on girls' education in general because he had been persuaded that ignorant mothers would produce a generation of ignorant sons insufficiently schooled to do his bidding on the battlefield.
He would overcome all that.
And still achieve his aims.
When he announced that he was separating children from their parents, and having the former locked up at Hogwarts.
Like at the Court of King Louis XIV, at Versailles.
Only without the pretence of glamour. The playing at cards.
Or having fun of any kind, frankly.
Would he let them out on completion of their schooling?
Probably.
Possibly.
Or perhaps he'd leave them there. Rather than be transferred to the Ministry with their parents-
"Kreacher!"
The elf rushed towards his mistress instantly, as servile and obsequious as was his habit in the company of his proper, proud pureblood of a mistress.
He had been stood to attention by the blackboard after his most recent summons, sure he would be called for frequently throughout this encounter.
"Pack my things."
"Yes, Mistress Cissy, Miss!"
"All of them. Every item in my bedroom and study. Every last book and item of clothing."
"Yes, Mistress, certainly!"
"Await my summons. I will tell you where to bring them."
"My pleasures, Mistress! Mistress is sensibly leaving Mistress's husband, Kreacher sees. Mistress is as always most discerning!"
"Don't bitch about me you bloody ridiculous pompous-"
"Mistress's husband scorns Kreacher bold as brasses when he is Kreacher's inferiors- Kreacher pretends to listens before!" he proudly proclaimed. "To fetch the muggles slaves scum. And fetches Mistress instead! Kreacher will pretends he does not hears Lucius Malfoy. Kreacher wears whites pillowcases like good servants to Mistress. Mistress's husband is in services yet wears silks, so is not respectable-"
"How DARE-"
"Shhh! I want to listen!"
"Wears brocades, golds, blues, reds. Dresses in all his fineries far wells above his stations in lives. When Mistress's husband Malfoy is only common as mucks-"
"PISS off, you bastard elf!"
"Ignore him, Kreacher, this is hilarious!"
"Kreacher does so with pleasures, Mistress. Kreacher ignores Mistress's husband the common vulgar scum with his garish golds, but he listens to Mistress, oh yes-"
"As amusing as all this is. It'll take time to pack up. And I've got to be getting on. Be off with you. There's a good elf."
"Please, Cissy, no! Not a divorce! Anything but! We couldn't survive the scandal! Let alone his name being dragged into it!"
He meant survive in the literal sense.
On that latter point-
"Get rid of the slavegirls!"
"But we're supposed to take slaves! It's government policy-"
"Take them back! They look barely bigger than children."
"You surely don't feel sorry for them?! After all?"
"Don't be daft, Lucius. As I say. We've barely enough food for us as it is. But. IF you can negotiate for an increase in your allowance- mind, I say, if. Some females for the household might perhaps be tolerable-"
"Wonderful! I knew you'd come round-"
"Provided. That their duties are purely domestic in nature."
"Of course, darling! Dearest!"
Anything but a divorce.
The social suicide would also be the death of him.
Literally.
If no one would sup at his table or sip at his wines.
If he could not call himself Number Two, dress up and drink good, old claret with his 'friends'?
High Society friends.
What else would there be to live for?
Forget social suicide.
That undiscovered country from whose bourn, no traveller returns...
He remembered his father's penchant for reciting Shakespeare, back in the day.
Perhaps that was why he hated the Bard of Avon so much.
His association with Abraxus-
"Anything? Prove it. Swap these girls for some distinctly old, fat, plain women."
"But dearest!" He fought to think of something quickly. "They need to look pretty when waiting at table!"
Was it really such a crime? If he had something nice to look at?
Someone to confide in, to find comfort in- With. Of an evening?
Muggles are such good listeners…
Particularly the female variety.
"The Dark Lord doesn't seem to much care if its fat or thin, as long as its got its orifices in all the usual places."
"Cissy! Really! Do be careful: the walls have ears!"
"You're positively portly these days, all these dinners you keep hosting!"
"Well you're hardly in the full prime of youth and vim and vigour these days are you yourself, my dear-"
Lucius stopped. On seeing his wife's aggressive wand stance.
He would not curse her.
And she knew it.
He must set the standard for proper wizarding pride and all that. He took comfort in that fact. And for a man to curse his wife would be the most ungentlemanly and unseemly conduct.
So Narcissa Malfoy could threaten her husband with abandon.
And he would be utterly flummoxed at such unladylike conduct.
And thus he would be kept in check and a good time would be had by all.
From his wife's point of view, anyway-
"Take these back. They're much too young. And pretty. We'll get as much money as we can for them. And then perhaps pick out something older and plainer for parties-"
"Only ONE?!"
"-and hostess duties. As long as we stick a tight short skirt on it and a bit of lippy any vile verminous muggle filth of the female variety will do. They all look the same, after all."
"But what about the children?!"
Multiple slaves really would be of assistance for childcare purposes.
"We really do need females. We can hardly get your nice young men, your 'gardeners' to- Christ, come to think of it-"
"What?"
The children!
"I've got to get on! How could I- I completely forgot. Important tasks for the Dark Lord!"
"What, shining his shoes? Licking his boots?"
"No no, I-"
He could hardly mention Harry Potter to his wife. Kreacher might go and tell her bloody sister, or something, for one thing. He wouldn't put it past the elf to know precisely where Bellatrix bloody Black was, and to be sworn to secrecy.
The children hadn't brought it up so far and so likely wouldn't-
The children!
"I have to tutor the children! See! How they're studying so diligently, and quietly?"
He'd vaguely been aware that they had scribbled in their books during this conversation, whilst taking snatched glances over their shoulders.
No doubt taking notes, having heeded his earlier warnings, and checking that this diligence was noted on his part-
"I need to test them before they can be presented to the Dark Lord!"
Narcissa strode over to the desks on the other side of the room and snatched up Lily's notebook, from behind.
"Where'd you get the colouring pencils, girl?"
"From the bureau!"
"Did my husband tell you you could do colouring in?"
"NO-WUH!"
"Then why did you?"
"Cos you were fighting. And I didn't think you'd notice!"
"We did drawing and colouring in too," said Albus, indicating Rose, who nodded, rapidly.
Both wished to deflect attention away from 'Little Lily'.
He had finally given up on cautioning, and warning. And joined in.
Seeing how the adults really weren't paying any attention.
They hadn't been able to risk sneaking off in the end, the other two being so close to the room's only door.
Not to mention there were four other occupants in the room. Three 'slaves' and an elf.
"Punish us, not my sister-"
"Shut it, boy."
Cissy continued interrogating Lily.
"Who's this supposed to be? The blob figure with the frizzy long hair and cross face?"
"That's you!"
She raised her eyebrows.
"Is that my husband?"
"Yes!"
"Why is he crying?"
"Cos he's saying 'Please don't divorce me darling dearest think of the scandal, the disgrace! I couldn't bare it!' And everything from before! I added those tears at the end, just now! See, I drewed them with pencil-"
"Nearly, Lily!" cried Rose. "Good girl for trying! It's 'I drew them'. Remember?"
Narcissa looked at the girl Rose.
Then back to Lily.
"Is she really this much of an insufferable-know-it-all all of the time?"
"Yes," both girls replied, in unison.
"Noted. She might perhaps tutor my grandson in exchange for her board and lodging. If she is anything like as big a boffin as her mother-"
"Oh I am, promise!"
"And proud of it, I see. Just like your mother-"
"Yes, exactly! Mr. Malfoy said so, too!"
Rose judged that, if she earned approval, she could help the lot of them all. Get better treatment. And conditions.
She hadn't quite understood when she had been the subject of a snide, cutting remark.
Nor that associating herself with the woman's husband was far from a good idea, at this particular juncture.
Narcissa snapped her fingers.
"You were saying, girl. About the picture. His tears. You drew them in pencil-"
"Cos I used to drewed- drawed- to drew them-"
"You used to draw them-"
"It's drew! Cos Rose said so and she's the biggest boffin!"
"Just get on with it girl!"
"I used to drew them in pencil and then colour them in in blue. But tears aren't blue are they? I now know. So I don't colour them in now. They're blank."
Lily nodded, sagely.
Narcissa nodded, following.
"He's got much longer hair than you've depicted. Than you've drawn. Do you see? Take a close look."
Narcissa turned Lily's head in her hands, with one hand pressing down on either ear.
"Oooooh yeah. Thanks! I didn't look for too long earlier cos I didn't want you to notice!"
Cissy selected a yellow colouring pencil, handing it to Lily.
"Finish his hair properly. And you'll have ice cream or chocolate cake. Or both. For pudding after dinner."
"Brilliant!"
"Only if you give me your picture. So I can hang it up in our toilet. On the door. Inside. For all our guests to see. Be a dear and add some more tears. Lots of them."
"Only if Albus and Rose can have some! Cake and ice cream! And Hugo and James! When they get here!"
Of course she assumed they would come.
And didn't see how that would be a bad thing.
That they would remain in captivity.
Rather than be freed.
All concepts rather complex for a six-year-old to contemplate-
"You drive a hard bargain, young lady."
"Yeah!"
"Alright. Deal."
"Yay!"
"Where is your brother? And the cousin, by the by?"
"They're with-"
"-Severus, no doubt." Lucius rushed over.
Dad. She had been about to say...
"I've got to collect them in the not too distant future."
"Why are you so nervous? Lucius?"
"Everything about the Dark Lord makes me nervous."
An occlumency technique.
To avoid a deliberate lie…
"That's true enough."
"I really ought to have taken them all at once… but it would have been a job and then some, apparating with five small kiddies."
"And you neglected to go straight back for the others?"
"Correct."
"Well you've had all this time in which to do so!"
"I didn't want them wandering about the house on their own! And Kreacher didn't come back!"
Narcissa would not acknowledge any fault on her part. Or on that of her property...
"They can wait, no doubt. They're not exactly going anywhere anytime soon, are they? Locked up as they are."
"Hmm, yes. Quite."
Potter, on the other hand-
"Family first, Lucius. Sort out this slaves business. Then whatever little errands you may have neglected to complete."
"You're- I thought. Aren't you leaving?"
"Do you want the scandal of a divorce then?"
"No I'm just- I'm just confused. Struggling to keep up..."
"You're not the only one, no doubt. Girl. You're meant to be a halfwit of a halfblood. On paper. Have you followed?"
This was barked at Rose.
"Erm, not every single word-"
"See!" said Lucius.
"But most things. Erm, you're threatening to leave unless he does something for you. Takes back the, umm, slaves that you don't like. But you might leave still. And you might not. What's the word? Oh a bluff. Or something. I think it's a bluff. Or that it might be."
"Hmm. Halfbloods it would seem aren't so halfwitted as my mother taught me. I suppose there are exceptions to the rule. The Granger girl was proof of that concerning mudbloods. Oh well."
She ignored the protestations from the children at the filthy slur.
The children hadn't protested at any of the other swearwords uttered by the adults, since they heard them all the time, these days. They had become normal.
Perhaps the m-word would too. With time. Become normal. Something to which they were desensitised.
"Leave these kiddies with the slaves to mind, Lucius. My slaves. The boys. With whom I can be trusted. And them. The children. And as for the rest. You can pick them up later. He's no doubt too busy with his invasions business to do anything new about the Potties and Weasles. The kiddies, I mean."
Lucius would do a quick dash and grab to some snatchers' outfit or wherever, exchange this lot, then come back later to see if they still had them, when his wife was out the way. No doubt they would still be there. Muggles were two a penny (outside of Voldemort's official sales, with their high transaction taxes). No doubt he could secret away some girls somewhere in the Ministry, the dungeons- Of course he'd have to sort out Potter pronto at the earliest opportunity.
He'd get the glory for handing in Potter. He wasn't sharing that with anyone.
Certainly not his wife.
"Mr. Malfoy. Can we have some lunch?"
Albus had dropped the 'please'.
"Certainly not. We're hungry enough. And you clearly haven't studied enough to deserve it!"
"Please can I go to the toilet?!" said Lily.
"I doubt you need it enough to piss yourself," said Cissy. "If I'm wrong, and she does, somehow, before we're back. Be a dear, Kreacher, and be sure to clean it up."
"Kreacher will do so Mistress and make Mistress proud because such stuffs is not beneath Kreacher, unlike Mistress's Husband who does no proper works and so is a good for nothing knave of a slave!"
"Oh. That's quite erudite! Where did you get that one from?"
"The Dark Lords teaches Kreacher news words to insults Mistress's Husband! He makes Kreacher practices. For corrects grammar!"
She sniggered.
"Well he does have his moments, I'll give him that. As do you, Kreacher darling."
She'd known him all of her life, within memory, since she was a very little girl indeed, and so felt genuine affection for the elf.
For all that her treatment of him often suggested otherwise (she was just copying what she had been taught).
"Come on you, you knave of a slave! To the snatchers'! To sell the worthless slave scum back for the extortionate sum that you somehow inconceivably spent this morning..."
Narcissa Malfoy dragged her protesting husband by the ear as she apparated away, side-along style...
A/N:
Thanks again for all your time and support.
As ever, keen to hear your thoughts in the comments or via messages, whatever's easier. Keep more of the same coming, make it darker, lighter, more/ less sexy/ sexual, more comedy, more or less of this or that character: whatever you think, I'd like to write what you like! Basically I tend to know what is going on with each character and where at once but it's up to you how much of it you want, if you want the all round picture of all the characters so far or more focus on a particular plot etc. It's all there and I'm game for responding to reader demand (otherwise I'll just stick with the plan/ hope the unpredictable Him-With-A-Capital-H doesn't have too many surprises in store...)
Speaking of Mouldy Vouldy: if you like this, check out the sort of prequel: A Warlock, and A Gentleman. I wrote it as background notes to this and just had to start publishing (every time I sat down to write the master draft of this chapter and all the business with Lucius, Cissy and the children to come, it just kept coming out as Severus-Voldemort chapters, so I had to get that out my system before coming back to this plot!)
A Warlock, and A Gentleman is about the year leading up to when Severus betrays Voldemort and why it is so raw and painful for Voldemort here in this story in his dealings with Severus, why he punishes him here so badly: first thinking of the man as his loyal, favourite servant, once upon a time, then discovering his betrayal, to his horror. I've written it in such a way that there are overlaps and Easter Eggs/ references you might recognise across both works, but is faster paced and more action occurs between fewer characters, the other story, whereas this is deliberately more 'who dun it' and a psychological thriller written such that you can predict what happens from the clues, with the tension and pace building over time. Anyhoo I think they're different in some ways, similar in other ways, but it's my characterisation and interpretation/ 'universe' in both, so I hope you'll love AWAG if you love LWFFF. Enjoy!
As ever, hit me with any plot requests, comments and similar xxx
(PS: I have a record of who's won the contest for recent months, but I've got to read through this post-publish for typos first, so I might save that update for next time, or I'll never actually click and publish if I start going through the stats and writing yet more reams and reams... Bye for now!)
(PSS: Germany and Italy were equally fast opening this, so you both get equal points!)