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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.
As always, for Sable and Lais xxx
Saturday, August 11th, 1979
Potter Manor
Dorea Potter's Personal Study
Lucius knows that Dorea suspects something the moment he steps through the floo. So instead of meeting her curious, yet suspicious gaze, he busies himself by waving his wand and vanishing all the soot that is clinging to his robes—black robes with delicate silver embroidery around the hems, and the intricate detailing also wraps all along the length of his sleeves.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, Lucius?" Dorea asks wryly, leaning back against her desk, wand twirling between her fingers.
"Ever the vision as always, Dorea," Lucius smiles tightly.
"Alright, if we're playing that game—how is Narcissa?"
At that Lucius frowns, he swallows thickly, and his back is as rigid as a board, "she's suddenly taken a bit poorly as of this morning, we're unsure as to why."
"Salazar, has she?" Dorea says, "I'm sorry to hear that, may the Gods grant her a swift recovery."
"Thank you," Lucius respectfully inclines his head.
"Perhaps, now you can tell me the reason for your urgent visit," Dorea states, flicking some of her voluminous raven hair over her shoulders.
Lucius carefully pulls a mask over his features. It is crucial that he chooses the right wording here; lest she take off his head.
"I take it you heard about the disappearances a few days ago?" Lucius asks.
Dorea nods, her eyes narrowing to slits, but she utters nay a peep, clearly allowing him to finish.
"There is…well, to be quite frank, my Father and another individual are waiting in my Father's Den to be allowed passage into your home. They didn't wish to intrude, and they swear that they only want to proceed once you have given your express permission. All they request is the ability to hold an audience with you," The words come out a lot faster than he'd planned, but the unimpressed curl of Dorea's bottom lip sends him hurtling on his way. He detests that his calm exterior has been cracked wide open by the older witch, but perhaps it's because he knows a sliver of the past she shares with his Father.
Or, it could be that this meeting could mean the change of the tides, though which way it will sway he does not know. That, or it will be the downfall of his family, and everyone he cares about will end up slowly and painfully dispatched by the Dark Lord.
Dorea quirks a brow, and taps her finger against her desk before she pushes off of it. Dorea keeps a keen eye on Lucius as she strides towards him. Lucius fights the urge to shrink back. She is a fierce tigress, toying with her prey—him—and the only thing keeping him safe is if he stands his ground. If he shows even one millisecond of weakness, she'll pounce.
"Why, in Circe's name, should I allow your Father, and this individual into my home? Especially without knowing their identity. That would be entirely reckless, and downright foolhardy of me," Dorea says. At Lucius's tight-lipped response, and blank stare, she continues, "do I look like a reckless, or foolish woman, Lucius?"
"No," Lucius responds softly, swallowing thickly, "well, you see—it's Theodus Nott."
Dorea snorts, stopping a few feet in front of him, her knuckles turning white as she grips her wand tighter. "So, let me get this straight. You wish me to permit two of Voldemort's closest, and most trusted allies and advisors, into my home. Based on what? Your word that they have no ulterior motives? Not bloody likely."
Dorea is vehemently shaking her head, and Lucius sees that whilst her interest is piqued, she is already dismissing the idea, classifying it as too risky. His Father said this would happen, his Father also said not to come back until he convinced her.
"I know Dorea, son. Or at least I did. She'll eventually allow us access to her home, but only because she is ruthless when protecting her own, and she will not hesitate to slice us to pieces. Remain calm, and appeal to her motherly sensibilities."
Easy for you to say, Lucius sighs internally, but centers himself, and confidently meets the eye of the Potter Matriarch. "I swear upon my magic that they simply wish to talk. They have a proposal."
"You swear on your magic," Dorea murmurs, tilting her head curiously at him. "Interesting."
"Would you gamble your life, right here and right now, that they have no other intentions aside from a conversation?" Dorea's steady, intense gaze is unnerving to say the least, but Lucius stands his ground—his love of his wife keeps him grounded, and if his suspicions are correct, his unborn child. The Dark Lord cannot prevail, he simply cannot. Even if Lucius still has his doubts and reservations, deep down he feels it in his bones that this option is the one most conducive to how he wishes his future to play out.
"Yes," Lucius responds, voice steady and sure.
She must see his resolve, and a tiny smile tweaks the corners of her lips. With a shrug she says, "I suppose if they truly wished me any harm, they would have barged in after I granted you passage."
"So you'll meet with them?" Lucius says, and he does a horrible job of stifling his excitement, of stifling his hope.
Lucius does not wish to follow someone who permits the murder of an entire town of innocent Muggles, just because Bellatrix was bored.
Lucius was there when Bellatrix whinged about having nothing to do. He was there when The Dark Lord dismissively gave her permission to take Macnair, and wreak havoc as they saw fit. It was all under the guise of much prettier language, and the pretense of seeking out two particular Muggleborns and their family.
Narcissa held him that night, shushing him, and brushing back his hair. Telling him it would all be alright, they would be alright in the end, and that they are doing the right thing.
So when his Father came to him the following afternoon, joy soared in his heart, as did the hope. A sliver of hope for a future where a madman was not in power. Though, he supposes that means they should rid the Wizarding World of Dumbledore's stain, wash it from their psyches, and oust him from the elevated status he has acquired from defeating Grindelwald all those years ago.
Perhaps they should start fresh, cleanse and purify, through fire and when absolutely necessary, through blood.
They shall deal with one wizard corrupted by power at a time; Dumbledore's time shall come after Voldemort falls. They shall defeat one monster before they move onto the next.
Whilst Lucius has been locked in an internal whirlwind of thoughts, Dorea had summoned Mipsy. The witch calmly requested that Mipsy inform the other occupants of the Manor that Dorea shall be hosting some unexpected guests. Also, she requests that they all be on their guard, but asks that they not do anything rash.
(The other occupants of the Manor had been assisting Harry, Hermione and Ron in celebrating the birthday of a ginger haired girl that they loved very much. A stubborn girl with flames trapped inside her that she breathed when she needed to. A girl that had befriended a strange, yet fascinating blonde girl, that was made fun of because she dared to be different. A girl that they flew through the skies as if she belonged there with her fiery hair whipping out behind her.)
Mipsy is about to go on her way, but before she does, she sends Lucius a disapproving look; her wide eyes quivering with light disdain.
There is a small pop, and the House Elf disappears.
Mipsy doesn't trust him, and he understands why she wouldn't. He wouldn't trust him if he was her. Lucius knows that until proven otherwise, he is still an unknown, still a possible threat.
He must earn their trust, he needs to. This den of lions with their snake brethren will be the ones to save them all. He has yet to openly admit it to himself—aside from the safety of his wife and unborn child—that there is nothing he wants more in this world, than their success.
Dorea casually points her wand at the fireplace, her other hand is on her hip—brushing against the soft silk of her casual robes—and Lucius turns to face the fireplace. With a languid flick of her wrist, a handful of floo powder flies into the fireplace, and simultaneously, with her voice as clear as a whistle, she yells, "Malfoy Manor!"
A burst of green flames erupts forth, licking at her, but not quite reaching her, only to retreat back into the fireplace; they greedily gobble at the two wizards that appear one after the next, cautiously stepping out into the short space in front of Dorea.
Coyly, Dorea smirks, "well, it certainly has been a long time, hasn't it?"
I decided to put this at the end of the chapter as to not assault you with a wall of text at the very beginning.
It was my original intention to post until chapter 70 this month, but with the lack of response I've gotten on the last three chapters, I think this may or may not be the last chapter I post for this story this month. This isn't some way of begging for reviews.
It's just that I was having a lot more fun writing this story last month when it was just for me, and I don't wish to taint the joy of writing this story by the unavoidable feelings of doubt that trickle in when you get a severe lack of response to your work.
I understand that life is a bit hectic for everyone, and that it is exam season. I also have a lot of things going on in RL right now, so trust me, I get it.
For those of you that did review, THANK YOU, you are wonderful and you made posting those chapters worth it. You truly did, and if any of you wish to see snippets of how the next chapter is going to go then msg me on tumblr or PM me and I will send them to you :)
I hope that none of you are upset by this, and if you read all of this then thank you very much, and I really hope you have enjoyed my story thus far x
