Chapter 20: The Meeting
December 26th
Elara laid in bed, staring up at the bewitched ceiling as it twinkled with false starlight. She was sure it had to be in the wee hours of the morning, and she knew sleep wasn't coming to her tonight. She sighed and turned over, staring at the moonlight creeping in through the gap of the drawn curtains. She heard the light scuffle of Nimsy's steps down the corridor, headed in the direction of her parent's master suite. The sound had become almost therapeutic since she had been home for Christmas break. Every night, throughout the night, she would hear the light foot fall as Nimsy rushed about the Manor, cleaning and tending to the plants around the home.
She stared at the shining sliver, watching the small particles in the air dance about. She blinked a few times and then closed her eyes tight, begging sleep to come. She finally accepted that sleep would elude her that evening and decided to get up and make a cup of tea, hoping it would calm her nerves and allow her even a few hours of blissful unawareness before the morning.
She shoved her feet into her favorite pair of slippers and pulled a fluffy robe around her shoulders. She had forgotten how drafty the Manor got. She was realizing that only a few months away had made her forget a lot of things… Like how the paintings in the hall spoke to her, sneering and disapproving—calling her names and berating her for her interests. How the fireplaces all seemed to kick into life the moment someone walked into the room, the smell of roses and ancient books, the way her Mother pressed her lips into her hair at least once an hour and the sound of her humming…
She padded out to the corridor, closing her door quietly behind her. She looked across from where she stood and strained to listen, trying to see if Draco was awake without opening his door. She could see no light coming from the small gap beneath it and decided he must be sleeping soundly. She sighed. Just as well. He had been rude to her earlier in the evening anyway and after their argument, she had come in, taken a bath, and gone straight to bed.
She had tried not to think about the crumbled stone bench in the garden while she stared at Draco's door, her jaw setting in irritation and her eyebrows furrowing. Logically, it wasn't his fault that her… outburst had caused the stone to deteriorate before her eyes, but she wasn't ready to accept that it had been her magic becoming unstable so she had made up her mind to blame him until that time came.
She shuddered, whether it was from the cold or the thought, she wasn't sure, and headed toward her parent's room. She had heard Nimsy's steps go there but hadn't heard them return and that worried her. Why would Nimsy be needed this late at night? She saw the warm glow of light from the gap under the door and slowly opened it, knocking while she did.
"Mum?" She whispered, carefully tip-toeing her way into the room. "Mum are you awake?"
"Yes, my love, what is it?" She replied, her voice sounding thick.
"I-I couldn't sleep." Elara admitted. "Are you alright?"
"Quite." She sniffled.
Elara could make out her mother's silhouette, sitting on the small sofa in front of the fireplace. Nimsy was mixing something in a cauldron on a near by end table and Mother held a tea cup. Elara approached, and could then make out her features that somehow seemed dimmed in the soft orange glow of the fire. She looked positively drained. Her pale skin was void of all color and features looked worn. She could see the small wrinkles that had grown into her skin getting deeper as worry lines creased her forehead and pulled at the corner of her eyes.
"Have you been crying?" Elara asked, sitting next to her mother on the sofa, folding one leg under her body and pulling her other knee up to her chest.
"Nothing to worry about." Her mother answered. "Nimsy is just making a quick sleeping draught for me."
"Sleeping draught?" Elara whispered, wondering how long she had needed a potion to sleep. She closed her eyes for a moment, brushing her knuckles against mother's elbow. Her chest ached with sadness as she did, an ache she hadn't felt come from her mother before. Sadness shrouded in bitter fear and desperation.
"Don't read me darling, it isn't polite."
Elara chuckled, the statement sounding almost automatic from her mother. "It's been awhile since I've heard you say that."
"It's been awhile since you've been home for me to say it to you." The corners of her lips flickered up to a smile. "Have you made a decision about your father?"
Elara nodded. "I will see him." She said. "I think I need to."
"He'll be thrilled."
"He may not be, once I talk to him." Elara murmured, looking at her mother and searching her eyes.
"Your father has spent the last six months in Azkaban. I don't believe there is much you could say that would diminish him any further, my love."
Diminished. Is that what he was? What her mother was? Elara cleared her throat. "I can help you go back to sleep." She suggested. "Instead of taking a potion."
Narcissa's ocean blue eyes fell upon Elara and she could see the exhaustion behind them. "That's lovely to offer, but Nimsy is almost done with the draught. I wouldn't want her effort to go wasted."
That seemed odd, but perhaps her mother was just uncomfortable giving control of her mind to her daughter momentarily. Elara certainly had never seen her mother in such a state before and had never felt the need to offer her abilities to her. She tore her eyes away from her mother's face and stared into the flickering flames. Watching them lick the sides of the fireplace and crackle the wood beneath them.
"I destroyed a bench in the garden today." She whispered, keeping her eyes trained on the flames.
"Destroyed?"
"I was angry." Elara said. "And I just sort of… I don't know how to explain it, really. I had an outburst, like Coco does when he gets upset… But the bench turned to rubble and I don't know how it happened."
"You had an outburst?" Her voice sounded stiff.
Elara nodded. "I've been feeling angry a lot lately, I suppose."
"Anger is a dangerous thing to feel, Ellie."
"I know." She agreed. "But it's the strongest emotion I feel… Not just from me, but from everyone else too. When I first got to Hogwarts, I felt anger from every direction… When I talk to Draco now, it's always anger fueled. Even you're angry-
"I'm not angry."
Elara finally pulled her eyes away from the fire and looked at her mother, deadpan. "You are." She said. "You're sad, too. And scared."
"I suppose I am." She agreed, dropping her eyes to her lap where she held her tea cup. "I suppose we all are. Are you angry at your father, then?"
Elara wet her lips, pulling the bottom lip between her teeth for a moment. "Aren't you?"
Narcissa remained quiet for a long moment. Elara contemplated apologizing for overstepping a boundary by questioning her like that, for calling her out on her emotions in the middle of the night when she knew that it was impolite to do. Just as she opened her mouth to speak again her mother whispered. "I am furious that he continued to take actions that have led to the demise of this family."
"You… you don't support the Dark Lord's cause?" Elara asked.
"I believe in keeping pure-blood pure." She looked at Elara, eyes hardened and serious. "I do not believe in murdering innocents as a means to an end."
"Father does?"
"Your father does what he is told to do, if he believes it will keep us all safe."
Elara snorted. "Fat lot of good that did." She grumbled, before she could even stop the words from falling from her lips.
Narcissa turned the upper half of her body to face her daughter straight-on. "You have overstepped your line." She said, her tone cold. "Your father loves us. Everything he's done has been to keep this family safe from harm and-
"And Draco getting marked is safe from harm?" Elara asked, her voice flat and calm. "Lying about me, hiding me away? That was for my own safety? Having the Dark Lord and his followers living here while he's locked in Azkaban is safety?"
Narcissa flinched, as if she had been slapped in the face. She set her teacup on the china saucer that was placed on the end table and turned back to her daughter. She took both her hands, caressing them with her own cold fingers. "Safety does not always mean happiness, Elara. Preservation is what has kept this family together, kept us from harm. Your father has always done whatever was necessary to ensure that the Malfoy's remain on top. It is his belief that it is difficult to be thrown from the top of a mountain when everyone else is beneath."
"The fall down from the top is far more devastating though, wouldn't you agree?" Elara snapped, pulling her hands back from her mothers. Her mother looked so hurt, so tired… She wasn't sure she could continue to stare at her. They had spent the last five days beating around the bush, not talking about anything of importance, just trying to enjoy the precious little time they had together before it would be ruined. Elara had spent the last five days on eggshells, waiting for the weight to drop, biding time before The Dark Lord showed his serpentine face. Hearing her mother's hum and the smells of the Manor had been wonderful but now she needed to get back to reality.
"I don't want to be a part of it, anymore." She said. "I can't do it anymore."
"Do what?"
"Hurt people." Elara said. "I can't be the reason so many people are put into danger."
Nimsy came round the front of the sofa and handed a vial of strange, glowing green liquid to Narcissa. "Your tonic, Mistress."
"Thank you, Nimsy. You can go now."
Nimsy gave a low curtsey, eyed Elara sadly, and snapped her fingers. The loud crack made Elara flinch.
"Elara, you are an intelligent girl." Her mother said, her fingers trembling as she unstopped the vial and a longing look in her eyes as she stared at the liquid within it. "Intelligent, and much, much stronger than any of us. You know what is at stake, what will happen if the task is not completed."
"Is my life worth more than Dumbledore's?" She whispered. "Are our lives worth all of the other students- all of the professors?"
"You and Draco will be unstoppable if you get to the top like your father did. Between the two of you, there will be no one who could match your power. You could change things for this family, for the Dark Lord and his followers. We know what will happen if you fail, but I have seen what will happen if you do not. I have lived it."
"We will never really be on top though." Elara insisted. "Not while the Dark Lord is… He will always have us by our throats."
"You don't believe in the cause." Her tone was understanding, but her eyes looked strange—furious almost.
Elara shook her head. "I just don't want anyone else to be hurt because of us."
Elara watched as her mother put the vial to her lips and emptied it, swallowing it swiftly and licking the remnants of whatever potion was inside of it, off her lips. Within seconds, she could feel the change in her. The prickly fear that radiated off of her sedated and her eyes became half lidded. "You and Draco are all that matter." She said. "The entire world can burn, as long as you both are safe from the fire." With that her entire body seemed to relax and she stared ahead of her, eyes watching the dancing flames and face slackened.
Elara closed her eyes for a moment, biting her lip and giving a soft nod. She hadn't realized the fire in her belly had turned to sadness until she opened her eyes again and felt the burn of tears trapped behind her black lashes. She stood up and leaned over her mother, kissing her forehead and walked out of the room.
Nervous shudders tore through Elara's body as she paced the Drawing Room, awaiting the arrival of the guard from Azkaban. Her stomach was churning, and she couldn't sit still.
"Oi, you're making me mental." Draco said, looking up from the book he was reading on the lounge.
"Go somewhere else, then." Elara snapped.
"I want to see the Wizard coming to get you. That way, if anything goes wrong, I know who to hunt down."
She rolled her eyes and continued pacing. "Has mum been out of her room yet?"
Draco shook his head. "No. I assume she was up late again."
"Again?"
"She's up all night almost every night, you haven't noticed?" He put his finger in the spine of the book to hold his pages and closed it around his hand, looking up at her.
"I went into her room early this morning and spoke with her. She took an odd-looking sleeping potion…"
"What did it look like?"
"It was glowing." She said, "Like liquid luck does, except it was green."
"What shade of green? Was it bright?"
She shook her head. "More… muted. Like seafoam."
"Hm." Draco said, stretching is legs out and crossing them at the ankle. "Interesting."
"Is it?"
"Well, as you know I am much smarter at you with potions." He started; she rolled her eyes again. "Glowing potions usually indicate lasting effects. Something that wears off over time but significantly affects your psyche for however long. Felix Felicis, for example, lasts a few hours—but the stronger the brew, the stronger the glow, the longer the effects last. If it was muted, it wasn't meant to last more than a few hours tops. If it was green, it was mood altering, not a sleeping draught."
"What do you think it was?"
He shrugged. "With everything going on? Probably a calming potion with a hefty dash of pixie dust."
"Pixie dust?" Elara asked, alarmed. "Mum wouldn't get involved in that."
"She's been disappearing every chance she has, you haven't noticed? Well, I suppose you haven't. You have been too."
"I've missed having time to myself." She defended. "I-I didn't know that mum was-
"Mum was what?"
They looked to the door, their mother stood in opening, her long black robes skirting the ground and her hair pulled into a tight chignon at the base of her neck.
"Not sleeping." Draco said, quickly. "You haven't been sleeping."
"Both of you have been up all night as well since you arrived home." She said. "Sleep eludes a busy mind."
Elara looked at her mother, concern furrowing her brow. All traces of the slackened, worry creased face she saw in the bedroom replaced with the same regal beauty she had always seen on her mother's face.
"You look beautiful, Elara. Your father will be happy to see you looking so-
"Put together." Draco sniggered. "Instead of wearing those ruddy old jeans and jumpers."
"Draco." Narcissa said in a warning tone.
"Sorry, I forgot that you prefer to dress like a ponce all the time." Elara said, smirking.
She shifted her weight and tugged at the hem of the royal purple dress. The dress her father had gotten her to wear to a dinner they attended together on holiday two years ago. It was long sleeved and had a modest neckline, form fitted to her waist and then the chiffon skirt fluttered away from her body and hung just above her knees. She wore thick black tights under it and black wedged ankle boots. She left her hair down, parted down the middle and pushed back behind her shoulders as she normally did. She had to admit, she did feel more put together when she dressed like this, much more… posh than she usually did. It wasn't how she was comfortable, but she supposed today would not be a day of comfort. At least the dress had pockets. She could carry her coin and her wand in it and feel much more secure.
As if her thoughts were being read, she felt her pocket grow warm and she pulled the coin out, staring at it until the message surfaced.
Let me know how it goes today. BZ
She smiled. She hadn't heard from Blaise since she had been home and was happy he sent her well wishes. I'll owl when I can She sent back and then held the coin, thinking of Harry and sent Wish me luck
In seconds in warmed back up with Good luck, I love you
She smiled again. She would be lying to herself if she hadn't sent him the message simply because she knew he'd reply with "I love you". She tucked the coin back into her pocket with her wand and realized that Draco and her mother were both staring at her.
"What's that then?" Draco said. "You're smiling like you've just caught the snitch in the championship."
"Just thought of how excited I'll be to come back today and beat you at a one on one match."
"As if you could." He teased.
All three blonde heads turned abruptly to the North end of the house when they heard the crack of Nimsy apparating to the walkway entrance in order to greet whoever had arrived. Elara took a deep breath, slowly breathing it through her nose, and followed her mother and Draco out of the hall and into the entry parlor.
"Mrs. Malfoy." The large wizard said, giving a bow. "My name is Artemis Carrow. I'm here to take your daughter to her meeting."
Carrow. Elara racked her brain. She had heard that name before, in fact she was certain there were two of them that were very involved in the inner circle of Death Eaters. Twins, like she and Draco. Artemis however, did not sound familiar, and she knew that name was not one of the Carrow's that she knew.
"Of course." Narcissa said, offering her hand to the wizard, a tight smile on her face. "Come, Elara, it's time."
Elara's heart jumped into her throat, and her stomach twisted so severely she thought she might lose what little breakfast she had managed, right onto the floor. Draco put a hand on her shoulder and looked directly into her eyes. "You'll be okay." He whispered. "Make sure you ask the right questions."
She gave a slight nod. "I'll see you when I get back."
"You can lose to a match, when you get back." Draco jested, pulling her into an embrace to try and help her ease her nerves.
"Miss?" Artemis said. "You can't take anything besides your cloak. No wand or anything else."
She felt alarmed, terrified at losing the comfort of having her want and her coin. She slowly removed them from her pocked and handed them to Draco and then fastened her travelling cloak. She took the man's proffered arm, and with a look back over her shoulder, crossed the threshold of her home and walked the long cobblestone way, back past the wards to the apparition point.
"Are you related to the twin Carrows?" She asked, trying to calm her nerves.
"My cousins." He replied. "Your father has always helped my family when needed, I wanted to return the favor however I could."
She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. "Thank you."
"Right massive house you live in." He said. "You must have at least a dozen rooms."
"Seventeen." She replied. "But the grounds are more impressive than anything inside."
He gave a warm smile. "Your father mentioned you love your garden. Talks about it all the time."
"Does he?"
Artemis nodded. "He does."
She appreciated that he was trying to make her feel comfortable. Judging by the vibrations rolling off his sleeves, he was just as nervous as she was. She wondered what he had at stake, why would he agree to help? Had her father really just been kind to him and his family when they needed it? She knew he had been paid handsomely for this exchange, but he had to be risking a lot.
"Also mentioned that you get lost in your thoughts a lot, and I ought not be offended if you don't want to talk to me."
She gave a soft smile. "Sorry." She apologized.
"No need to apologize, Miss. Just stating what I was told. You ready?"
They passed through the gates and she felt the shift from the wards melt behind her. She gave a nod and with a crack she felt the pressure of being apparated, the feeling of being shoved through a very tight tube and her lungs being smashed in on themselves. Just when she thought her eyes would burst from the pressure of it, her feet hit the ground and she could breathe again.
She looked up and instantly wanted to cry. The large prison seemed to scrape the sky, the waves crashed around the island they stood on, angry and unforgiving and she could see dementors soaring the topmost bricks of the structure.
"They won't bother you." He said. "Made sure of that myself."
She gave a weak nod. "I didn't realize there were human guards here at all." She admitted.
"There weren't until recent years." He said. "After the mass breakout that got your Auntie Bellatrix out, they put a few human guards in place to keep an eye out. Make sure the Dementors stay in line."
She nodded, the icy realization prickling the back of her neck that this man was put here to rule over dementors. And surely, a wizard that was feared by dementors was someone who should be feared by anyone.
"Let's carry on, we haven't got all day." He said, more patience in his tone than his words suggested. She gave a sharp nod and trailed behind the burly man, hoping she stayed on his good side for the duration of this visit.
They entered the massive fortress and Elara doubled over. She dropped to her knees and cradled her head in her hands. Beyond the audible howling and crying of the inmates, she could feel it. She could feel their despair as their minds slowly left their bodies, their sanity and wherewithal being drained slowly.
"Up you go." Artemis said, grasping her upper arm and pulling her to her feet. "I know it's a lot to handle, but you can't go all funny on me."
She dared to think the man seemed sweet, but the knowledge of his role at the prison made it very clear that he was sinister. She slowly trudged her feet, dragging them along the broken stone floors. She wondered how much further she'd have to go, how many more cells they'd have to pass before she could sit down. Her mind was screaming with pain, overwhelmed with the insanity of the unstable inmates that occupied the space they were in. She jumped when a hand shot out at her, long dirty fingernails that curved toward her like daggers.
"Pretty, pretty girl." The man hissed.
"Oi!" Artemis said. "Rankov! Back off before I bring the hoods down to give you that kiss three years early."
The man hissed at him and shrunk back into the shadows. "Burtus Rankov. He's harmless." He said, conversationally. "Well, now he's harmless. Been in here longer than I've been alive. Probably couldn't cast a decent lumos if he wanted to."
"You said the hoods would give him his kiss early?"
"Aye." Artemis said. "He's got a sixty-year sentence that ends with the Dementor's Kiss."
"Why not just kiss them right away?" She asked. "Why let them suffer and rot in here?"
He shrugged. "Dunno." He said. "Just the way it is, innit?"
She kept her eyes trained on her boots as she walked, not wanting to give any of the prisoner's reason to reach out to her again. She shuddered as she passed through a particularly strong emotional field that contained an almost heinous amount of hate.
"Here we are. I'll be right outside if you have any trouble. He asked me to remove his shackles, so I did. That alright with you?"
She nodded. "Yes, that's fine."
"Try not to take longer than an hour. After that, the hoods start to get antsy."
"Thank you." She said, looking up at him.
"Any trouble at all, you want to leave for any reason, you cross through those doors and I'll take you home. He wont be able to follow."
She nodded again, wondering if the man respected her father or hated him. She gave him one last look, tried to muster a small smile to him and opened the door.
The room was dimly lit and smelt of old sea water and mold. The pungent smell almost turned her stomach out again, and she closed her eyes a moment to gather herself. When she opened them again, her eyes landed on the center of the room.
An old table, large enough for only two occupants to comfortably sit at, was directly under the glowing orange light. Her father sat, facing her. His head hung, shoulders hunched, eyes trained to the ground. He didn't seem to have noticed that she had entered. She took a moment to study him. His hair hung in thinning and straggled mats down either side of sunken face. He had a beard now, that was long with months of growth and his eyes looked sunken into the back of his head. The hollows of his cheeks were more prominent than she could ever remember them being and she wondered if they even fed the inmates here or let them starve and scavenge. His shoulders hung limp and he looked… frail. Sickly, even. She had read long ago about a muggle disease called cancer and wondered if this is what the patients looked like. A hollowed shell of themselves.
She took a step further into the room and his eyes shot up, but it was as if it took his brain a moment to catch up to the movement. He stared her over and slow, almost painstakingly slow, rose from his seat in the haphazard old chair and stumbled forward a step.
"Elara." He croaked. "Are you real?"
The realization that she was not at all prepared enough for this crashed down on her and her eyes swelled with tears. The absolute hopelessness in his voice broke her. The fact that he didn't know whether she was a hallucination tore her very soul into shreds and she choked back a sob. Her feet carried her faster than she would ever have expected them to and she wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him as tightly as possible.
"Oh, father!" She cried into his moth bitten grey and black striped shirt. "What has this place done to you?"
He finally wrapped his arms around her and held her head to his chest, pushing his face into her hair and kissing the top of his head. "You're here." He whispered. "I didn't think you'd come. You're here."
She nodded. "Yes. I'm here."
They stood for several long moments in silence, the only sounds the sharp intake of breath as they sobbed into one another. Finally, Lucius pulled away from his daughter and sat down. "It's hard to stand for too long." He said. "They took my walking stick and my leg…" He trailed off, rubbing his thigh, just above his knee as if it were in scorching pain.
She knew that during the first war, he had been injured. She never knew the details, he never spoke of it, but he relied on healing charms and potions and used his walking stick. He had always had a slight limp, she suspected no one else ever noticed it, his stature being that of strength and power, if anyone had noticed it, they had the sense not to point it out. But now… He was withering and she could feel the intense pain he was in.
She wiped the tears from under her eyes on the back of her hand as she took her seat in the decrepit chair directly across from him at the table. He reached forward and took her hands. His hands even looked wrong; thin and dry. His nails bloodied and his fingers scarred. She raised an eyebrow as she stared at them, wondering what could have possibly-
"The rats." He said, catching her gaze.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "M-mother said she w-wasn't sure what you wanted… why you wanted to speak with me." She stated, forcing herself to get to the point.
It would not do to sit here and stare and feel sorry for him. He put himself here. He ruined their lives.
"You're wearing her bracelet." He said, his eyes landing on the emerald and diamond bracelet.
She nodded. "She gave it to me to keep. For Christmas."
"I suppose you'll need it more than she will."
She looked at him, wondering what that meant. "Why am I here, father?"
He shook his head. "Please." His tone was so desperate she nearly broke into tears again. "Please don't call me father. It-it's too formal. I m-miss hearing Dad." He was choking on his own tears.
A few wet droplets escaped her, rolling down her cheek, and she nodded. "Dad." She whispered, missing it as much as he had. She and Draco weren't permitted to call their parents the informal counterparts of their parental titles in front of anyone, but at home, at the Manor, with no one around, they used mum and dad like any other family.
"Dad, I need to know why you've asked me to come here. Why you're risking-
"He knows."
All her thoughts screeched to a halt, slamming to the front of her skull. Everything she wanted to say to him, every ounce of anger she had manifested for him during her first term at Hogwarts had vanished and was replaced with fear.
"How?"
He shook his head. "I don't know." He said. "That night at the ministry… He told me he knew."
Her thoughts finally pulled from the wreckage of her brain and began moving, full steam, plowing through all of the emotions and pain she was feeling. "That's why you failed. He- the Dark Lord… He said you failed him on purpose."
"He threatened to take you away from us, to enslave you if I did not retrieve the prophecy. I begged him not to. I pled at his feet. I begged him… anything, anyone but you."
"So, he took Draco." She whispered, and the look of shame on her father's face confirmed it.
"Why now?" She asked. "Why are you telling me this now? Why not tell mum and let her tell me? Why did I n-need to come… here...?"
"I didn't want your mother to know." He said. "If she knew that the Dark Lord… She's not strong like you, Ellie. Your mother is… She's unwell in these situations."
"You mean she gets sozzled on pixie tonics and pretends everything's okay." She said, more bitterness to her tone than she would have liked.
His head hung low. "It's my fault." He said. "It's my fault that you're at risk, that Draco… I should have listened when your mother wanted to move away… Wanted to get away when you were young, raise you in a different country and…" He stopped talking abruptly.
Suddenly, as if he was unable to control his movements, he smacked his head, face first, into the table. The sound of his flesh hitting the wood was so sickeningly loud that she jumped and recoiled in confusion. It was like watching a house elf punish themselves for not getting every last wrinkle out of their best dress robes.
"What are you doing?!" She shrieked, as lifted his head and bashed it into the tabletop again. "Dad! Stop it!"
"Stupid." He said. "So stupid! How could I let this happen?"
Another loud crack of his skull against the wood must have finally alerted Artemis that something was happening. The large wizard bound into the room, a half-eaten sandwich in hand. "Oi! Malfoy! We've talked about this!" With one large arm, he wrapped it around Lucius' chest, impeding his ability to slam his face another time. "Come on now, mate. We've talked about this!"
"So stupid!" He cried again.
Elara sat, shocked and unmoving. Confusion and horror on her face as she tried to figure out what to do. "I don't- I don't understand!"
"Inmates tend to harm themselves here, love." He said. "When they can't cope with their issues without magic… They take it out on themselves. Nothing to worry about. It happens all the time."
That statement provided her no comfort.
"There you go." He said, loosening his grip on Lucius' chest. "You alright, Miss?"
She gave a nod. "I think so."
"He does that again and I'll have to take you home. Can't have a Malfoy getting hurt in a private session. It'll look too suspicious."
"Thank you, Mr. Carrow."
"Arty." He said, a bright smile as he bit his sandwich. "I'll be right on the other side of that door if you need me."
She stared in shock as her father wept openly, not even trying to hide his misery behind his hands. Tears flowed down his sunken, grizzly face and left streaks in the grime that had built up on his skin. She reached out for his hands and felt the warm tingle of magic on her fingertips as it transferred to him, wrapping around him to soothe him into a more relaxed state.
She was angry with him, yes. But she couldn't watch him completely fall apart in front of her.
"Elara, my love. My flower. I have failed you. I have failed this family. I am so sorry."
The girl she had been before Hogwarts, before leaving the Manor, wanted to console him. To tell her father that it was okay, that she understood and that she knew he loved them. But Elara now, this angry Elara, wanted more answers. Wanted to know why.
"I need to know why you're doing this." She said. "Why you risked our lives to be apart of this… this war."
"There are things happening that have been in place long before you were born." He said. "Ideals and fantasies that were built upon during the first war. I was expected to continue them."
"We weren't enough?" She asked, her voice sounding small as it left her throat. "I wasn't enough for you?"
He hung his head, his shoulders slouched. His bloodied forehead creased deeply as he sighed. "I wanted you to be." He said. "I wanted the empire more."
She clenched her teeth, angry tears fighting against her lashes as her chest ached. "You know what he's asked Draco to do?" She questioned. "You know he forced Draco to take the mark?"
Silence.
"I almost killed another student because of this." She said, and his eyes shot up to meet hers. "I don't even know if she's okay. But her blood is on my hands. Because of you. Because you were too weak to love us more than you hate."
"Everything I have done, everything I have sacrificed, has been for this family." He hissed. "I am here! I am being eaten alive by rats and punished by prisoners and dementors for this family."
"It wasn't a sacrifice!" She said, her voice beginning to rise. "You didn't sacrifice yourself for us! You messed up! You failed him, and it got you locked up because of it! You let your greed for power get in the way! It has nothing to do with loving us!"
His gaze dropped to the table in defeat. "You are furious with me, and it is warranted. You don't believe me, and I have lied so frequently, that I don't blame you. But I love you, Ellie. I love your brother, and I love your Mother. Everything I've ever done has been to get back to you. To ensure you all would have a life worth living."
"Tell that to Draco." She said, her voice positively dripping with venom.
She leaned back in her chair, jaw clenched tight and eyes hard as she stared at her father. The man who she loved so deeply for so long. The man she turned a blind eye to, ignoring all his bad qualities while she lived in her bubble at the Manor. Going to Hogwarts this term had opened her eyes, had filled her head with information that she hadn't been privy to, previously. She had always known her family was feared, that they were beyond wealthy and had influence. She just hadn't realized that influence didn't come from fear of Lucius Malfoy the Ministry Official. It came from Lucius Malfoy the Death Eater.
"They're staying at the Manor." She said, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. She blew the anger through her mouth. She couldn't understand why she had such trouble containing her fury in the last day, but she needed to get through it. She couldn't think clearly.
"Your mother told me in her letters." He replied, his voice softer than she could ever remember hearing it.
She twisted the bracelet around on her wrist, absentmindedly. She watched as his eyes focused on the glinting of the gems. "They haven't been around since we've been back. I expect they'll be there later today or tomorrow."
He gave a slight nod.
"They're going to kill me, aren't they?"
His head snapped up and his eyes—the same storm cloud silver of hers and Draco's, bore into her own with intensity. "No." He said.
She huffed a dry, sarcastic laugh. "No? Perfect. So, something worse than death?"
He sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands, a motion she had never seen him do before. "That bracelet," He began. "You'll keep it on your wrist until I say otherwise." It wasn't a question.
Her face hardened and she narrowed her eyes at him. "Why?"
He chuckled now, a sinister and low sounding laugh. "You have no idea what that contains." Again, not a question.
She folded her arms over her chest and continued her hardened gaze, tapping her right index finger against her left bicep. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"My flower, how you have bloomed since I have been gone." He said. "Never have I seen a more determined look on the face of someone staring back at me."
"Yes well, plotting the murder of the most powerful living wizard is quite taxing." She spat.
He flinched, anger flashing across his face. She had seen that look before, never directed at her. She had seen it on his face when Draco disobeyed him when they were children. "That bracelet is the first piece of jewelry I ever gifted to your mother." He said, his voice still hard.
"She told me."
"It was my mother's—your grandmother's." He continued. "My father had given it to her long ago, when Grindlewald had risen in power."
She arched an eyebrow but didn't speak. Her curiosity peaking over her fury. She didn't know much about her Grandmother. Her father rarely spoke of her and when her grandfather was still living, she didn't see much of him. She knew her name was Lucretia, that her father had essentially been named after her, and that she died while he was still in school.
"It's very special, that piece of jewelry. It was forged by goblins and the emeralds and diamonds were created by dragon fire and blessed in unicorn blood." He paused and she broke her eye contact, looking down at the glittering stones wrapped around her wrist. "It contains a bit of… complex magic. Magic that had long been passed through Malfoy men. I would have, at some point, gifted that bracelet to Draco to give his future wife. However, we felt it more prevalent you have it now."
"I don't understand." She admitted, looking back up to his gaze.
"Within the stones of that bracelet, is a piece of myself. My soul is woven into the very makeup of those emeralds. Malfoy men have always protected their wives, in order to ensure their family continues. During the first war, your mother wore that bracelet every day. It kept her from harm, as it will you."
"I'm not mum." She stated stupidly. "I'm not a wife of a Malfoy."
"The magic will recognize you as Malfoy blood." He said. "Until you, my flower, there has not been a female Malfoy born. Malfoy's have only ever birthed male heirs."
"It's laced with a protection spell?" She questioned, trying to get the wheels of her brain to turn, to make sense of this seemingly random bit of ancestral information. Why did this matter?
"Far more than a protection spell. Those stones will ensure that as long as my heart beats, as does yours."
She shook her head. "Your mother died before Grandfather did. Shouldn't he have died before her? If that was true, shouldn't she have outlived him?"
"You remind me of her." He said. "She loved music as you do, as your mother does. I think that's what attracted me to Narcissa at first. Her beauty and her song."
If she wasn't so confused and angry, she would have thought that was sweet.
"Your grandmother was plagued by entities outsides of her control. Things I couldn't comprehend as an arrogant, young boy. Things I didn't understand as an adult, until you."
He reached for her hand, and she placed it in his. His scarred thumb rubbed circles on the tops of her knuckles. "Try to find it." He said. "Look into my memories."
Her eyebrows shot into her hairline in shock. Her father never allowed her to use her abilities on him like this. Calming his energy when he was angry was one thing, but to allow her to sift through his head was another. She nodded and closed her eyes, focusing her energy. She could feel him, his emotions. His fury and rage. His misery and desolation. She pushed, trying to see, but she was blind.
She pulled her hand away and stood, walking to his seat, she pressed her middle fingers to either temple on the sides of his dirty face, and looked into his eyes. Slowly, she closed her own and focused again. Pushing past the emotions, forcing her way into his head. She could feel his subconscious fighting against her and then finally it broke.
"Mother?" A young teen spoke, a boy maybe fifteen years of age. He looked nearly identical to Draco at fifteen, his hair a bit longer and he stood a bit shorter. "Mother, are you okay?"
She recognized the rooms of the Manor, the marble flooring and the ornate rug on the Drawing Room floor, the same rug that she paced this morning. Against the wall, a woman with golden hair and a pointed chin, sat on the floor. Her exquisite robes were wrapped around her and she wept, her eyes held tight and her hands holding her chest in anguish. She looked broken, she felt broken.
"Lucius." The woman said, holding her hand out to him. "Lucius, come to me."
Young Lucius walked toward his mother, his knees buckling under the weight of his puzzlement. "Mother?"
"Lucius, I am unwell." She said, gripping his hands. "I am unwell. I can feel it happening. I can feel the sadness that has begun to cripple our foundation." She was hysterical, squeezing her son's hands and staring into his eyes. The long curtains shuddered and the glass in the windows behind her cracked. Elara could feel her swelling emotions. A swirling tornado of thoughts and burdens as she crumbled.
"I-I don't understand. Mother, please help me to understand."
"There is war coming, Lucius. The Dark Lord will bring tremendous pain and I. Can. Feel. It."
"Father!" Lucius called over his shoulder. "It's okay, Mother. It's okay. I'll get your tonics… Did you take your potion today? Father!"
"Your father knows not the matters of the heart." She said, her voice frenzied. "He does not understand the affliction. You will understand one day, my darling."
Elara could feel the panic racing through Young Lucius and the absolute agony his mother was in. She watched as the older witch unclasped the bracelet, with shaking hands, and set it on the ground. Her hand hovered over it for moment and one of the stones cracked down the center. A swoop of energy pulsed through the room, physically blowing the hair back from both of their faces. It was as if the energy in the bracelet was sentient, it screamed and lashed about as it died on the stone. Lucius stumbled back, yelling for his father and falling over an ottoman. She brandished her wand and placed the tip of it at her temple.
"Goodbye, my love. My Lucius." She whispered, a hollow look in her eyes. Young Lucius watched in horror, screaming for his father as loud as his lungs would allow him when his mother muttered "Avada Kedavra" and as the green flash left her wand, the light left her eyes and she collapsed to the ground.
a/n: Soooo... How are we feeling? Did you like this chapter? Tell me what you thought!
I'll be honest, this chapter was hard to write. Mimi fact time: My own father was in prison for several years as I was growing up. I tried to channel the feelings I had when I finally got to see him when he came home, and I feel like I covered the sadness, anger, and overwhelming feeling of need. Did that all come across? I hope so.
I once again just want to say thank you so much to everyone for the kinds words. This month is just kicking my damn teeth in. I'm sure everyone is well aware about the whole COVID-19 thing. Because of this, I worked my last shift yesterday, for an indefinite amount of time, as Ohio decided to close all restaurants and bars to promote social distancing.
I know that after Ohio made this decision, many states followed. If you've been displaced please know that I FEEL YOU. If you're stressed and upset or worried or whatever, please do not hesitate to reach out. PM me, lets chat about it. I know this is really difficult for a lot of us. A lot of us are scared we won't have a job to go back to, not to mention how the fuck we're supposed to pay our bills. If you're part of the hospitality industry just remember-we were made for this. Every long shift in a hot kitchen, every rude customer demanding DOS because they're on a diet but then ask for more ranch, every time that obnoxious 12 top of mostly kids didn't tip, every double worked on a holiday because the dishwasher called off again. We have gone through it all, survived it all, and we will be fine. You will be fine. BREATHE.
Seriously though, if you need some rando to rant to or talk to or whatever, please message me.
Also, keep reviewing and following and favoriting! You know you all make my day with that!
Stay strong, ya'll.
xo
-Mimi
(Damn that was a long winded a/n. Sorry!)
