Suspected

Chapter Three: Moody

Standing in front of wrought-iron gates, vines entwined around the strong bars, Rita stared at the Malfoy Manor thoughtfully. Realizing that she had been rooted to the spot for a few minutes than one would believe was necessary, the bars of the gate formed into a magical mouth, oddly smiling at her—and, as enchanted by the Malfoys to confront those who would enter without an invitation, it spoke to her in a prim and proper voice, "Business or pleasure, dearie?"

"I haven't decided yet," Rita answered it casually, stroking her jawline indecisively.

"If you are a friend, you know how to enter; if not, I'm afraid that you'll have to give an answer. Business or pleasure, dearie?" said the gate, its mouth moving to the words.

Rita sighed. She reached for her wand, raised her wand hand in a salute, and stepped through it as if the gate were made of smoke. She passed through easily, walking through the feathered patch of peacocks whom cooed and tittered at her feet along the pebble stone path to the pillared porch of the Malfoy Manor. Peacocks. They had acquired more of the arrogant, flightless birds; the male, likes its owner, flashed its vanity by use of its enormous colored pallet tail as she strode pass the female peacocks. Yes, you are the prettiest of them all, aren't you, young sir?

Death Eaters could pass through the gate without permission; it had been like that since the First Wizarding War. No doubt Narcissa might have objected to the enchantment still in place, owing to the fact that now they had their son to worry about—Narcissa prized herself in her own beliefs about blood supremacy, but even in school, Rita never pinned the youngest of the Black Sisters as someone who would die on that hill for the Dark Lord's reign. She simply acquiesced her husband's role in the Circle, protected her son from bad influences (all except Bellatrix).

When Rita stepped onto the landing, she knocked thrice. Considering the absence of their once precious elf servant, Dobby (Rita was vaguely aware, according to an outraged Lucius, that Potter had a part to play regarding his freedom), it was Narcissa whom opened the door, peering at Rita with a blank expression on her face.

"Ah," greeted Narcissa, her voice much more appealing, "Rita Darling. Severus sent word that you would be coming up tonight."

"A matter to appease the husband," said Rita with a half-hearted shrug.

"Don't I know it," said Narcissa, glancing down at the gate, whose face disappeared and the steely bars returned to normal. "Would you like a cup of tea? Or…" she glanced down momentarily, and Rita knew that Narcissa eyed the concealed Dark Mark hidden under Rita's sleeve of her blouse. "Something stronger?"

"Tea would be lovely," returned Rita politely.

Narcissa nodded. She stepped back, holding the door open to allow Rita passage inside the elaborate foyer, and Rita was met with the familiar scent of clean linen, something candlelit—a fragrance that was not common in the Snape household. The scent that reached Rita's nose when she'd step into their living room were of old, battered books; an opened bottle of Sherry…

Rita caught the scent of Narcissa's perfume as she stepped full-bodily inside. She always smelled so lovely.

"If you would," Narcissa beckoned Rita with a hand, leading her into the kitchen. "While the imp let out some of our little family secrets, I do miss that House-elf sulking around the corner to do these little things…" she collected her wand from the kitchen table, gave it a few flicks.

A tea kettle made its way to the stove burner; water poured itself into the crevice, and then the stove flipped on. Rita shrugged in Narcissa's direction, "Dobby was a different sort, love. A curious little thing."

Narcissa switched the subject, "Were you going to attend the Quidditch World Cup? Some of the most important people are going to be there."

"I'm afraid that it would merely stress me out further," said Rita, looking obviously discomfited at the idea of entertaining a box full of politicians. "Besides, I've never really taken a strong interest in sports."

"The best players are facing off in the match: Bulgaria versus Ireland." Narcissa said.

Rita smiled to herself; it wouldn't strike many people that the lady of the Malfoy Manor had a particular strong interest in Quidditch. After all, Lucius had played the Slytherin Seeker back in their days attending Hogwarts. It was a world-renown sport in the Wizarding World; the list for why some took to it more than most could go on ad infinitum. And while Rita found the engagement invigorating, she found it more amusing to watch Narcissa's son and Harry Potter battle their scuffles out on the Quidditch Pitch at Hogwarts rather than observe people she didn't know try to outperform each other.

"Draco has talked about it all summer long," continued Narcissa as a mother would about her treasure, "He's been waiting with bated breath to see the match, quite ecstatic about the seats that Lucius managed to acquire through his work; the seats are in the Minister's Box, with Cornelius Fudge himself. Oh…"

Rita had barely tried to conceal the scowl on her face at the mentioning of Cornelius Fudge; Narcissa nodded with understanding, though a smirk played on her beautiful face, as if Rita had given her some very interesting gossip to discuss as she offered her a cup of tea. Rita took the cup by its bottom, nodding a word of thanks. Narcissa's hands hesitated to pull away; her eyes were quick to shy away from staring at Rita's Dark-stained fingers.

"It would bode well for you to try to charm the gaffer, Rita," advised Narcissa, pushing forward, as she strode into the living room, sitting on a luxurious sofa. "You would get your way more often."

"Well, I suppose I'm not as charming as Lucius is," returned Rita lightly.

"He is quite the wordsmith," said Narcissa, nodding.

"Right," said Rita, her smile hardening. "Where is your husband, by the by?"

"He's just finishing up some of his late-night paperwork from the day before," said Narcissa. She took a sip from the mug between her pale hands; the large rock on her ring finger glistened in the chandelier light that poured into the living room from above their heads. "I suppose you and Lucius would like to have a small conversation about last year, about the beast."

"It was suggested to me to let that slide," said Rita, shrugging her shoulders, as if to push pass the resentment like a physical barrier. "For what it is worth, the beast, the hippogriff, was merely reacting to his aggressor."

"His aggressor. Draco, you mean," said Narcissa.

"That's exactly whom I mean," said Rita. "The boy is a brilliant Potioneer, but he provokes creatures that are clearly much larger than he in Care of Magical Creatures. Whether or not it had anything to do with Rubeus Hagrid leading the class probably has—Ahem" Rita harshly cleared her throat— "absolutely nothing to do with Draco's disruptions."

"I admit," Narcissa contended, "that he can act quite rash. I almost wonder if he'd been better off in the Durmstrang Institute. It's where Lucius wanted to send him when he turned eleven; but I wanted Draco closer to home."

"Are you sure that it hasn't got anything to do with the fact that Durmstrang makes it a legal obligation to teach their students the Dark Arts?" asked Rita casually, stirring the tea in her mug with a small spoon as she took a seat beside Narcissa.

"Unfortunately, Draco would eventually pick up on some nastier spells: Lucius hides it quite well in public, but he can be reckless with the Dark Artifacts around the house." Narcissa said with a fond smile. Still love-struck by her husband after all these years. "I know that he won't be learning any of them from you, Rita."

"Without a consent form from his parents? Not from me," said Rita, a note of sarcasm on the tip of her tongue.

"I wonder if he will pick them up from the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes this year…"

It was the first time that Rita heard a note of true detest in her voice since she stepped foot in the home of the Malfoys. True enough, Narcissa had a valid reason for feeling like the new professor could be unpredictable, Rita reasoned. The last few had been somewhat unorthodox in every way…

"If I have any control over the situation," said Rita, placing a hand on Narcissa's shoulder consolingly, "I can shield Draco from the matters."

"That's just it, Rita," said Narcissa. She placed her cup on a coaster, setting it down onto the glass coffee table in front of her. "With your calm deposition as of right now, is it safe to assume that you actually do not know the identity of your new boss this year?"

Rita released an inappropriate chuckle, "Narcissa. I don't ever know until the very last minute. Which, I would have assumed that since the first semester is only a month away, I have been waiting for news from Headmaster Dumbledore to let me in on—"

"The new teacher," said Narcissa, "is an ex-Auror."

That statement gave Rita pause.

The Dark Mark was burning stronger with every moment, combined with Rita's Dark reputation, her marriage to a Death Eater, her relationship strangely tied like a knot to Bellatrix Lestrange—Practicing the Dark Arts in the Forbidden Forest—Her fingers were still graying from the gluttony of punishment—

"What?" Rita said quietly. She felt her fingers become numb, and she almost dropped the cup of tea in her hands. She placed it on the table, preventing any accident—God forbid that tea would be spilled onto the fresh, white carpet.

"It was his job to think as Death Eaters do, part of the Order of the Phoenix—You remember who he is—"

Rita held a hand up abruptly, her face darkening. Oh…

"He put Bella away," recalled Rita. "And Tony—"

"Yes, your brother too." Narcissa nodded. "Death Eaters were captured; and if they weren't captured, they were killed…"

Rita hesitated, and then recalled the name well enough; the color fell from Rita's face.

"He was one of them that interrupted the Longbottoms' torture, where I…"

Narcissa nodded gravely. Rita's frown deepened into the outlines of her face, contorting the smooth structure of her appearance into an ugly expression, one of contempt…and fear.

Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody.

Back in the First Wizarding War, the Ministry of Magic had given the Aurors authority to use the three Unforgiveable Curses against the Death Eaters, and he taken his fair share of the Dark Lord's followers with him—

He had spent six months tracking Igor Karkaroff, and Moody managed to capture him alive. Karkaroff had spent a brief stint in Azkaban, was only released in exchange for a deal with the Ministry of Magic because he had turned in some of his fellow comrades, naming some of the Dark Lord's followers: Evan Rosier, Travers, Mulciber, Macnair, Crabbe, Goyle, Bellatrix and Rudolphus Lestrange, Rabastan Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov and his sister, Rita; and then Severus Snape. The list continued ad museum. Afterwards, Karkaroff became the Headmaster of the Durmstrang Institute; and he hadn't seen the lot of them since he exported to Bulgaria. When the Dark Lord would return, Karkaroff would definitely be public enemy #2, right after Harry Potter.

By the time that Karkaroff started naming anyone linked to the Dark Lord—either by association or by His Mark—both Rita and Severus had been working at Hogwarts and Dumbledore had been convinced strongly enough of the turned allegiance that he had vouched for both of them during Karkaroff's trial…Though Moody's opinion of Severus had changed on the surface (Rita wasn't sure what had been said on Snape's part to turn the tide in his favor), Moody obviously felt a strong contention against Rita Dolohov…An adamant Death Eater caught red-handed in participating in the driven insanity of Frank and Alice Longbottom—turned good because of unrequited love?

"So Moody," clarified Rita darkly, "is my new boss at Hogwarts…?"

Narcissa nodded. Seeing Rita's reaction to the news, her voice became somewhat panicked, "I know that your position at the school is limited, as an aid and all. But if that man tries to tell Draco stories about Lucius—about what—"

Rita nodded with a soft expression, patting Narcissa's hand, "I will try to shield him. Though," she added nastily, "I have a good idea that Draco won't have a spotlight on him. If so, Moody would have his eye on the entire Slytherin House. It has been for the last few years, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher usually turns to me for that sort of thing…"

Narcissa offered a slight, appreciative smile. "How is Bella?"

"Wavering," answered Rita.

"And your brother?"

"I don't visit him that often as I should. I know I should," said Rita, "but our relationship isn't as strong as what siblings should be. He's a different man, I'm different too."

"Severus?" asked Narcissa curiously. "How is he?"

"Grumpy, aloof," said Rita with a smile. "Same old Severus."

"Does he still look at you with those dark, romantic eyes?" asked Narcissa coyly, pursing her lips as if the devil were in the details back in their teenager years. "I think that he could be quite a stick in the mud, but not all couples act the same way behind closed doors. Lucius can be a snob, but when the sheets settle—"

"You're incorrigible." Rita remarked, reaching for her mug of tea. "You haven't changed much, still wanting to know the dirty details."

"Part of being a Malfoy is knowing the in and outs of gossip, Rita," said Narcissa, flashing her pretty pearly whites. "Are you sure that you do not want to attend the Quidditch World Cup with Lucius, Draco, and me? It could take your mind off the first semester. You're taking on a large amount of stress this year. I'm just glad that Draco isn't seventeen yet; something tells me he'd try to put his name in the Goblet of Fire if he were of age, probably to impress his father."

"I've endured much worse," exchanged Rita. "I think it would be best to enjoy the peace and quiet before I head back to the school."

"Are you going to pay Bellatrix a visit, as usual?" asked Narcissa.

"I'm a creature of habit," Rita answered in finality.