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CHAPTER 11 - BROTHERS
Lucius Malfoy was no stranger to the darker side of wizarding London - the
Malfoy, both brothers, were well known on Knockturn Alley and the darker,
unnamed lanes that branched off it into the shadows. While his father's
interest in the Dark Arts may have been merely academic, Lucius had, in the
course of an eventful life and a very misspent youth, amassed a considerable
wealth of practical knowledge. Part of that knowledge, of his experience, was
this house. You could find and buy absolutely anything in this part of London
if you knew where to look, and if you were willing to pay the price, and that
included oblivion.
Gliding gracefully up the stairs to a discreet, unassuming and unremarkable
door in a row of discreet, unassuming and unremarkable doors, he rapped twice
and waited on the doorstep, feeling exposed and all too aware of the eyes
watching from the neighbouring windows. This house was notorious - both to the
Death Eaters and the Aurors - and he and Luc had been well known customers,
once. He was sure the sight of both brothers visiting within twenty-four hours
of each other had set several sets of antennae quivering...
Luc would be here. He always came back here, eventually.
The spyhole on the door slid open fractionally, and was immediately slid back -
his fair hair and grey eyes were instantly recognizable, as was his motive for
coming now. Rumour ran on wings on Knocturn Alley, and from there it ran
throughout the whole High Clan - and vice versa. And Lucius had been coming
here since he was seventeen, sometimes to sample the wares, more often to pick
Luc up.
The doorman, an old, gnarled man with white hair and rheumy eyes stepped aside
to let him in, not saying anything, not indicating anything with eyes or body
language - he'd learned his lesson since the first and last time he'd leered at
either of the Malfoy brothers, neither of whom appreciated his comments, spoken
or otherwise. Now he simply watched with carefully veiled eyes, waiting,
growing more and more resentful towards the bright, brilliant aristocrats who
thought they were so clever, so powerful, so invulnerable...a glance from cool,
confident silver eyes ended his brief spurt of rebellion. No matter - their
time was coming - the Malfoy couldn't stay on top forever, and when that day
came...
A cool, stunningly lush woman with ancient, cold eyes looked up from her circle
of admirers and recognized him, deduced his mission, and without missing a beat
inclined her head towards a discreet staircase leading up to private rooms.
When she saw he had understood, she turned her attention back to her clients,
reaffirming the enchantments that kept them captivated.
The other clients, all of them High Clan or at least very rich, were all of
them regulars at this house that had no name and other, like ones - they all
had the jaded, feral eyes of human predators or victims, and they all
recognized Lucius and, beyond the one, swift identifying glance, paid him no notice
and went back to their own business.
In this house, the only rule was discretion - you minded your own business and
no one else's. It was safer that way.
Up to the staircase and to the right lay a suite of rooms, done in discreet
silks and velvets and satins, all materials calculated to increase the skin's
tactile activity, and to appeal to all the other senses, all for the sake of
maximizing pleasure and sensuality. However, to the left - to the left lay the
darker part of the house, the rooms designed for those who preferred the darker
side of sex, the more, esoteric and dangerous variations. Lucius could all but
taste the cinnamon tang of dranath, and he tensed in instinctive revulsion -
he'd been taught to avoid that taste, that smell, since infancy, and his one
and only experience with dranath had only reinforced the lesson.
Luc, however, had come back to it again and again, drawn by some
sadomasochistic tendency to the painful oblivion it delivered, as well as the
helpless sensual overload. Lucius knew he hadn't had it completely easy,
growing up as a bastard son - when their father hadn't been around, a young,
beautiful boy had been quite a temptation - but Luc's darker side had been kept
under control while Kate had been alive; since she'd died, he'd been
unconsciously punishing himself.
Lucius didn't mind a little painful sex every now and then - it spiced things
up a little, enlivened life and could make him forget his ice bitch of a wife -
but he did prefer to wake up in the morning knowing exactly what went on with
who last night, and without the splitting headache and uncontrollable nausea of
a dranath hangover. Lately, Luc had been rather sober, refraining from anything
self-destructive or anything that smacked of too much of the darker side of the
High Clan - he hadn't come here in a very long time, and Lucius thought the
suicidal drive of the years after Kate had died - the Death Eater years - had
been replaced with responsibility and maturity since he'd become tai- pan.
Something had happened to send him back here. And he intended to find out what
and who was responsible, and make sure they paid...
He didn't like seeing his younger brother unconscious in a notorious brothel,
surrounded by whores of both sexes, glutted with dranath, alcohol and the ardeur
which still lingered like perfume after the wearer has left the room, the marks
of the whip and the cruciatus marking his white, white skin...
There was a change in the atmosphere, in the lingering ardeur, that let Lucius
know Luc was now awake and aware, even though his eyes were closed and his
muscles still lax. Coming over to stand by the bed, looking down at Luc's face,
the very mirror of his own but for the colouring, he saw the grey eyes, so like
his own, open lazily, full of intelligence and power - there was no wariness,
none at all.
"So, brother," murmured Luc, feline in his mockery. "Have you
come to kill me?" Silence reigned for an endless, eternal moment. Neither
Luc nor Lucius were at all surprised that they were now on opposite sides.
Lucius didn't bother to smile, didn't do anything other than steadily meet his
brother's eyes.
"Not yet," he replied. "Although it may come to that,
soon..."
"Ah...." Luc sighed. He stretched sensuously, displaying his lean,
slender body, the white skin and the black hair, and the small, faded scar
where Lucius, in a childish fit of pique, had hexed him, throwing him back
through a glass window; he had a matching one, himself, where Luc had thrown a
vase at him. And there, there on the left arm, on the white, flawless skin was
the abomination of the Dark Mark, marring the perfect whole - it would always,
he realized, remain as a blemish on an otherwise clean soul; the price of ambition,
of power.
The wages of vice - hidden, intangible, and far more lasting than worldly power
and influence. It had to be worth it, otherwise there would have been no point.
Unwittingly, or perhaps very perceptively, Luc spoke again. "I'm glad he's
sent you, brother; you can claim it as your right as Lord - or did you
surrender that as well, when you bent knee?"
Lucius winced. That was unfair. "You know what we gave, and what we gained
in return; at the time, we both thought it justified.
"Once, long ago...but now? Twice?"
Lucius said nothing. Luc didn't continue - wouldn't ask Lucius to come back, to
join him - that would be an insult, as well as futile, a violation of
individual autonomy that Luc, not being Lucius' Lord, had no right to commit...
Lucius changed the subject. "Why?"
Luc made no attempt to misunderstand. They knew each other so well, by now,
that any deception was all too obvious. "What do you know of Benjamin
Greyson?"
Lucius knew his brother didn't carelessly throw out non-sequiturs - but he
didn't come directly to the point, either. It was...discourteous. So he played
along, shrugging gracefully. "An idealist, a dreamer, without the ambition
or the strength to make his dreams reality." He flicked a hand
dismissively.
Luc nodded. That had been his reading of the man, too. "And yet," he
murmured thoughtfully. "He has risen quite far..."
"Oh, I'm not denying that - he's got talent, and he's got some charisma,
an honesty....a sincerity." He paused thoughtfully. "But it's not
enough. I would say that, rather than his determination driving him, there's a
very gifted player standing behind him in the shadows..." Absently, he ran
through the circle of his acquaintances to see who it might be. An influential
American diplomat could be a very useful tool...but there was no one he knew
who could be the puppet master. He looked to Luc, who was staring at him with
unusual intensity.
"Have you ever met his wife?" he asked, too softly.
Lucius raised his eyes to Luc's, quite unable to mask his dawning suspicions.
"Oh, yes," Luc purred dangerously. "I am reliably informed that
she is muggle born, attended Hogwarts from 1971 to 77, and that her name is
Katherine..."
"And she doesn't go out into society," supplied Lucius slowly,
"because she is indisposed; not one of us has seen her..." He looked
back to Luc. "But how? She looked dead..." he cut himself off.
"Snape."
Luc smiled with terrifying gentleness. "Yes. Snape." He explained,
and Lucius took a moment to feel sorry for their childhood friend, but then the
implications hit him. Kate was alive. Luc's one and only weakness, beyond his
blood family, was alive and well and married to a prime target for
assassination - and now that he had this information, Lucius was bound to bring
it back to his lord so that he could topple the House and the wizarding economy
with it.
A good plan, if it didn't involve Luc, and if Lucius' own finances weren't so
much at risk; he'd have to see about transferring some of his money out, maybe
even into the Muggle economy - their Swiss banks were one of their best
inventions. And as for Luc, well - they were brothers.
Could he betray his own brother? His mirror? His blood? No, of course he
couldn't.
In the Game, most things were fluid, variable, changing according to
circumstances - but some rare things were absolute. A soul-bond. The Covenant
between a Lord and his people. And a bond such as Luc and Lucius shared. Some
things were larger than ambition, larger than the Game. In a shifting morass of
loyalties, allegiances and deceptions, truth, lies and half- truths, the
absolutes were sacred.
And if he should forget in the heat of the moment, in the throes of a grand
plan, then there was always the cold threat in Luc's eyes to remind him.
Brother or not, Lord or not, bond or not - if he even gave a hint that he knew
Kate was still alive, he would find himself destroyed more thoroughly than
Voldemort could ever dream of...
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She stood at the window of her hotel room and looked out at the street below,
watching the world go by while she remained still and static. She was not used
to such inaction, to taking a back seat, but it was an unfortunate necessity at
this time.
It would not do to be recognized - it could ruin everything...
She picked up Bran's letter again, reading the words over and smiling slightly
at the thought of her son, her wonderful, sadly innocent son who had, despite
all Ben's best efforts, not been placed in Gryffindor - she allowed herself a
small thrill of petty satisfaction. She was only human, after all.
She had thought he would find his way to either Gryffindor or Slytherin - he
was intelligent enough for Ravenclaw, but without the detachment, and if he'd
been placed in Hufflepuff, she would have been extremely surprised. Luckily,
there'd never been much chance of that occurring. It seemed from his letter
that he'd been heading headlong towards Gryffindor during his train ride - he'd
fallen in with some older Gryffindor boys and had been quite taken with them - until
the attack.
Closing her eyes, she sent a heartfelt thanks to the Lady that Luc had been on
the train at the time - oh, he'd always been the most capable and fierce of
protectors, and she supposed that fifteen years of ruling the House had more
than honed his skills. Certainly if the Malfoy heir was on the train, he would
do anything to keep him out of the Dark Lord's reach, as he would do for Harry
Potter, his unofficial godson.
Briefly she felt a slight pang at the thought of James and Lily, whom she had
never been able to properly grieve, and another at the thought of her nephew in
Petunia and Vernon's clutches. But she was more concerned with her son than her
unknown nephew - not that she wasn't worried, really - but she'd never met
Harry, didn't know him and so, as a former Slytherin, didn't know what he was
capable of, while she knew precisely who Brandon was.
He could be just as great as his father, given the chance, and the right start
- she'd tried to plant the seeds to push him into Slytherin, but came smack
bang up against Ben's idealism and his ideas on proper child rearing, which did
not include much discipline or shaping or intense education for children under
ten, but rather an unwarranted emphasis on fun and play and recklessness...
They'd engaged in a silent war for Bran's personality, and lately Ben had been
winning - until something on the Express had changed him somehow, and pushed
him over into Slytherin. And now, from his letter, it seemed he had a firm
base, if he was accepted by the Malfoy Heir and the two dominant scions of the House.
And now he could build on it, if his father wasn't brought down first, taking
all of them with him when he fell.
She would just have to ensure that that didn't happen.
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