Chapter Three
After the second class of the day, everyone met in the Great Hall for lunch. Well, almost everyone. Pythia decided to go back to the common room instead, to catch Lucius before he went to lunch. The Malfoy heir was very fond of entrances and always waited until he thought that hardly anyone would be coming in after him to make his appearance. She found him asleep where he'd been during the break, looking like some blond angel on earth. Pythia had to roll her eyes. Lucius, an angel? Not a chance.
"You been asleep all this time?" she inquired, perching on the opposite arm of the couch.
"No," came the terse reply. "Why aren't you at lunch?" When he opened his eyes after the lack of response to find Pythia intently nibbling on a fingernail, he smirked. "You're trying to avoid answering Bella's question."
She scowled at him. "I am not."
Lucius rolled his eyes and sat up. "Of course you are. You hate Evans because she's been bad-mouthing your father and his crusade for pureblood domination. And if you say so, then everyone will know that he's your father."
Pythia crossed her arms and frowned, staring at the floor tetchily. Lucius slid over to her and kissed her cheek. "Make something up, Thia. It wouldn't be the first time." He stood up effortlessly, as though pulled by strings. He extended his arm, offering her his hand, which she stared at hesitantly for a moment before taking it.
"I wouldn't know what to say," she answered sullenly, letting him help her to her feet. She sighed and took her hand back, deciding to change the topic of conversation. "So what's wrong with Severus?" she asked as they walked out of the common room.
Lucius eyed her reproachfully before answering. "His parents want to send him to Belgium this summer. Apparently, the change of scenery is supposed to improve his attitude."
"Oh," she said softly. Severus's parents were always trying to "improve his attitude." They thought he should be more outgoing and less reclusive. They at least thought that he should wash his hair.
When the two reached the Great Hall, Severus was waiting outside, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a scowl etched on his face. "You certainly dallied long enough," he snapped. "I want to talk with Thia."
Lucius's face reflected the puzzlement of Pythia's before he nodded and continued on into the Hall. Pythia raised her eyebrows expectantly at Severus. "Yes?"
"You want me to help you turn Evans into a centipede," he said frankly.
Pythia nodded. "You want something in return."
Severus nodded. "I wish to make your father's acquaintance."
Her eyes narrowed. "You don't know who my father is."
"Of course I do. I've known for months."
Pythia's stomach gave a small lurch, and she highly doubted that it was from hunger. "How?" she asked. Her throat felt dry, and she desperately wanted a shot of something to allay her frayed nerves.
"Lucius told me in December in response to my inquery about the injuries you sustained when you returned from Christmas break."
Her jaw went slack and her mouth fell open. "Lucius?" she choked out.
Severus looked bored and not in the least bit concerned at the fury raging on Pythia's face. He brandished his wand and after quickly muttering "sedo," she could think again. Calming charms always worked well on her, and it certainly wasn't the first time one had been needed.
"You haven't told anyone, have you?" Gods, please, let him not have said anything. Severus gave her a look of such resentment that she regretted asking. Of course, he hadn't said anything. "Fine. I'll ask," she replied curtly. "If he says no, that's it. I don't beg and I don't barter with my father."
Severus watched her with glittering black eyes for a moment. Finally, he nodded. Without saying a word, he walked away from her in the direction of the dungeons. She stared after him curiously, a frown settling on her face, before going into the Great Hall.
"You look somber," Rudolphus commented.
Pythia shrugged and sat down beside Lucius. "What have I missed?"
Narcissa pointed to her sister. Bellatrix was working intensely on fashioning a small, human-shaped figure from Valerian root and rue. Bella was exceptionally skilled at crafting poppets and constructed one every week for the Vow. It cut in half the likelihood of being blamed for something bad that happened to the person.
The entire student body shuffled nervously around during the weekends, because everyone knew that the Slytherin gang chose a victim for the week on Monday. Aside from the occasional curse, the string of vicious high jinks throughout the week could be easily disguised as a quick run of bad luck, so no one was quite sure whether or not it was the band of misfits or misfortune. Students were inclined to avoid ill-fated people, so it was amusing to watch the Vow shunned for a period of time.
"Where's Evans' hair?"
Lucius withdrew a beautiful penknife from his robes and placed it on the table, as well as a small vial of red liquid. "It wasn't her hair we took," he informed her indifferently.
Oh. "How'd you get her blood?" Pythia amended.
Bellatrix smiled wickedly, entwining the herbs. "Janus and I knocked her out with a sleeping draught that Severus concocted. Lucius did a little impressive carving – in an unnoticed place, of course - and voilà!" As an afterthought, she added, "She was very late to Herbology." Interesting, Pythia thought to herself. At least it was more inventive than hacking off her hair in class.
"I wish you'd have told me," she answered darkly. "I'd have wanted to be there to see it, if not be the one to actually cut her up."
Lucius looked annoyed. "You get to break her legs later this week, Thia. I want to have some fun of my own."
"Why don't you just rape her?" Pythia hissed back. Lucius's eyes widened, but not in shock. It was as though he were actually thinking of doing it. Pythia certainly wouldn't have put it past him. Lucius put on a good show, acting calm and cool and dignified, but he could be violent and was when he wanted to be. It wasn't often, but it happened. "Lucius," she warned, voice menacingly even, "no. That's too far."
"You're gonna kill her one of these days, Thia, and we all know it, so don't tell me what I can and cannot do." There was something in his tone that Pythia rarely heard directed at her but knew well enough to fear. Violence. He was offering her violence, and she didn't want it. She backed down. Lucius was one of the few people whose threats Pythia took seriously. He had hit her before when he'd gotten mad enough and he'd do it again in a heartbeat. She swallowed and nodded submissively.
"You're right. I apologize. I'm being a hypocrite." She hesitated. "No details, please."
Lucius gave a heavy, exasperated sigh. "I'm not going to do it, Thia. Gods, sometimes I swear you actually have a heart."
Pythia scowled and stabbed a fork at her salad. She didn't feel hungry today, and she was furious with Lucius for revealing to Severus her father's identity. She wanted to bring it up when they were alone sometime in the evening, but she was apprehensive about broaching the subject when Lucius was so obviously ready to lash out at the next quarrel. But still, she had to find some time to talk to him.
Lucius's father, Cassius, had gone to Hogwarts with Pythia's father, so the Malfoy family already knew and was already allied with "Lord Voldemort." This was before he had changed his name from Tom Riddle, of course. Before he'd gone from good to bad to worse.
"Sickle for your thoughts," Narcissa interrupted Pythia's musings.
Pythia abandoned her lunch and dropped her chin into her palm. "I don't want to go to Transfiguration. I hate McGonagall."
Evan grinned. "I'll let you in on a secret, Thia: we all hate her."
Pythia narrowed her eyes and stared at him until he looked slightly disheartened, but the grin didn't fade.
Bellatrix reached across the table and took the vial of blood from Lucius. Then she rummaged through her bag for a small, polished wooden box. She extracted a thin black-handled paintbrush and opened the vial. Pythia followed the movement of the brush closely as it left crimson stains on the poppet. It was like watching any other master at his or her craft – whatever the métier, the expertise the person displayed was so complete that it was nearly impossible to take your eyes away.
Finally, Bellatrix placed the poppet carefully into the box and tucked it back into her book bag. She caught Pythia's gaze and grinned wickedly. Pythia gave a smile that all of them had given to each other at some point, a small, private smile that acknowledged and understood the other's intentions. "You look too pensive."
Pythia smiled wider. "Probably. I'm tired."
"You could skip class," Janus suggested.
"And besmirch her perfect record?" Rudolphus answered in Pythia's place. "She'd never do it."
"Thank you, Dolph," she sneered sarcastically.
Lucius pulled out his antique pocket watch and checked the time. He only did this when his patience was beginning to thin. Everyone knew what it meant, and they began to scatter, packing up to leave for class. All but Narcissa, who stood her ground and remained seated, still eating. She was the only one of the group who rarely let Lucius intimidate her. It was an impressive trait, but probably her most foolish.
"We should steal her homework," Nero suggested as the six of them slowly walked down the corridor, none of them in a hurry to arrive at the next lesson.
"That's not a bad idea," Evan said, who had a penchant for thievery.
Pythia didn't care. After upsetting Lucius, fretting over what to tell Bella – who seemed, thankfully, to have forgotten her question – and paying Severus's price, what to do to Lily Evans seemed to have made itself last in Pythia's plethora of worries.