Chapter Twenty-Four: The Wrath of Malfoy

Wednesday morning dawned clear and bright, and Rose watched it do so from the third-floor balcony. She hadn't slept a wink after leaving the dungeon entrance, had spent the rest of the evening pacing her room, staring at her picture of Nina, and fearing the consequences of her actions. It was cowardly, she knew. She owed this to Nina, this retribution, this justice that would come from no other source.

The Ministry wasn't doing a damn thing to stop these people, and the Order was too busy having committee meetings to take any valuable action. That left Alex Borgin to settle the score.

Fighting the desperate thoughts that threatened to compromise her judgment, she left the peace of the balcony to begin her servant's duties for the day.

Creeping into Lucius Malfoy's chamber, Rose glanced over to see that the lord of the manor was sleeping lightly, his chest barely rising and falling with his breath. He looked deceptively pure with the dawn's light shining through the window and catching his white-golden hair, surrounding his face with a virtuous glow.

Shaking her head at how misleading appearances could be, she placed the tray in its usual place, ran a warm bath, charmed it to retain its temperature, and (trying not to think about where it came from) wiped a bit of blood from the floor with her apron. She then slipped silently back into Lucius' bedroom, and headed for the door.

"Good morning, Rose."

She spat out an expletive and caught herself from tripping over her own feet by grabbing the bedpost in a vice. When she glanced up at the owner of the voice, she saw a humorless Lucius staring at her with curious eyes.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, cultured voice dripping with suspicion.

"No, sir." She forced herself to laugh. "You just startled me... again." Prying her hand from the bedpost, she met his gaze as steadily as she could manage.

His expression had not changed.

"My apologies, Madam." He rose from the bed and quickly rounded the bed. Involuntarily, she retreated a single step, then stopped. Had her mind not been so preoccupied, it would have been obvious from the first glance that Lucius had not been sleeping. His hair was perfect, his bed still made, and now she could see that his eyes were wide open with tiny red lines running through the white as if he had slept no more than she. "Are you certain that you're alright? You look terrified," he asked calmly.

"I'm sure, sir. My mind was wandering. You caught me off-guard." She tried to look as if the whole situation amused her, chuckling softly as she spoke.

Lucius stared a moment longer, then reached up and caressed her face tenderly. She flinched and he withdrew his hand. "Then, you're dismissed," he whispered softly, almost sadly.

She was badly shaken when she left. For one terrible moment, she thought that she was somehow found out. He was holding something back, but he hadn't seen her last night, of that she was certain. The relief as she walked away from his piercing gaze was almost crippling.

The rest of the morning was an uneventful blur of her usual tasks, one running into the other until several hours had passed. It was unnerving the way Lucius looked at her every time she entered his presence, though. His face gave no indication of what he was thinking. He just watched her go about her tasks, making no effort to hide the fact that his eyes followed her every move. She got the strangest feeling that he was waiting for her to say or do something. Several times, she opened her mouth to ask him if there was something he wished to talk with her about, but she closed it just as quickly. It was usually better to let Lucius come to you.

By the time the mail arrived, she was a bundle of nerves. There was no shortage of letters today, but Lucius opened the newspaper, first, scanned the front page, then turned to the middle and smiled brightly at something he saw there.

Anxious to get a peek at what had made him so happy and finally taken his attention from her, she circled the desk to collect his silver-rimmed teacup and peek over his shoulder. What she saw took her by complete surprise and for a moment she just stared, unable to move her eyes and hoping to Merlin that Lucius wouldn't notice she had frozen. After a few seconds she was able to tear herself away and resume her cleaning. But the headline over the article haunted her thoughts, and she couldn't help allowing a huge grin to overtake her as she left the office.

Alex Borgin had been cleared of all four charges of murder. Now, she knew what had been in that letter she delivered to the Minister yesterday. Lucius had arranged for her exoneration by the Ministry, and she was no longer wanted by the authorities. Lucius certainly had ulterior motives, he always did, and it didn't make much immediate difference, but the gesture touched her deeply.

An hour later, she was still smiling as she set the table for lunch.

The grin vanished and was replaced by a sharp wince when a burning pain assaulted her arm. Looking down, she saw that the summoning bracelet was glowing a wicked red. Acting on instinct, she touched it lightly with a single finger hoping that answering this violent summons would stop the burning. She felt the pull of the apparation, the cooling of the bracelet, and the curiosity of why she'd been summoned so vindictively all at once. Therefore, it took her a moment to notice Lucius sitting in his favorite chair, leaning back, one leg propped on the other, reading a large leather-bound book as if he'd done nothing out of the ordinary.

She hissed as she shifted the bracelet aside and saw the blistered skin beneath.

"Sir?" she began tentatively, her heart already fluttering.

"Hello, Rose," he greeted peacefully, closing the book, but still holding it aloft with elbows resting casually on the arms of the chair. "Have you ever read this book? It's fascinating."

Scraping together as much calm as she could, she stepped forward to take the strangely familiar-looking book from his outstretched hand. Her hand shook as she slid it from his grasp, and she wondered why her heart was suddenly sinking into her feet. A glance at the title told her all she needed to know. It was a book of Malfoy history... the most recent one... the one she'd obviously left by the staircase that led to the last place in the world she wanted to see. She looked up at Lucius who was watching her reactions with infinite calm. Her hand covered her mouth instinctively as if she would scream without the barrier.

When Malfoy stood, his wand already in hand, she hung her head, preparing for the worst. His empty hand appeared at the top of her peripheral vision, palm up, and he spoke softly, regretfully.

"Your wand."

She gave it to him slowly, hoping that she could still get out of this. It was surreal, somehow, not yet solidifying itself as anything more than one of the countless nightmares she'd had since Nina's death.

The hand disappeared for a moment, secreting her wand away in an inner pocket, then reappeared in the same position, but she had nothing left to give him. He held it there patiently until she realized what he was requesting. The sting of tears behind her eyes was quickly blinked away as she submissively slid her hand into his and he led her silently from the room.

His hand on the small of her back, he escorted her effortlessly through the corridors. She knew where they were going. The inevitability of it was sinking into her now, and as her panic rose, her heartbeat slowed. Her fingers became glacial and she moved in slow motion, every sound echoed as if it came from far away.

When they reached the staircase leading down, the world suddenly leapt back into focus. She stopped and he stopped with her, looking down on her without expression. The tiniest nod of his head told her to walk ahead of him down the stairs, but she couldn't manage, couldn't force her feet to move.

Cooperate, she kept telling herself, cooperate with him and he'll just punish you. You'll survive and you'll live to fight another day, just as you always have.

But his eyes told another story.

She contemplated begging, throwing herself at his feet and promising him whatever he wanted if he would overlook this one infraction, but her pride would never allow such behavior in front of Lucius Malfoy. Forcing herself to clear her mind, to think about nothing at all, certainly not what awaited her, she placed one foot in front of the other and somehow made it down the stairs.

Her ears registered the familiar chant as his wand pointed at the solid wall which did nothing to indicate that anything had changed. Still, he led her forward, gently, almost reverently through the stone and into the Malfoy dungeon.

It was dark, very dark, and silent as the grave. He led her forward, knowing the way even in the pitch-black and soon they arrived at a place where a cold draft seemed to blow above their heads causing a clink of metal which could be heard from somewhere to the side, and when Lucius spoke a soft spell, the glow from a few sparse torches illuminated the source.

She almost didn't recognize him, half-naked and covered in deep wounds which, by some trick of the light, seemed to still bleed. His head hung limply, chin on his chest. Lucius hadn't bothered to remove Thomas Marsh's body from the wall, and it hung like some macabre rag doll from manacles.

She was still staring in morbid fascination when Lucius spoke again, the same harsh language he'd used to open the dungeon entrance. His wand was pressed to some invisible barrier and with the end of the spell, it flared to life and seemed to pierce through. He turned his attention to her, then, and gestured gallantly.

She couldn't believe her eyes, couldn't believe that he wanted her to enter the cell with this mutilated corpse. She tried not to shake her head, but her body was no longer listening to her mind. Her refusal displeased him greatly and he lashed out like a snake, grabbing her at the nape of her neck and shoving her forward with incredible strength. When she regained her feet and turned, his wand was trained on her, and he was advancing steadily. She retreated step by step, whispering gibberish as she did so. She didn't register half of what she was saying, something about being sorry, about needing to get out, about her cellmate being dead. Soon, she was reduced to sobbing this over and over. "He's dead. He's dead. He's dead."

Lucius slid his wand into a pocket, grabbed her wrist and slammed it against the wall, seizing a rusty manacle as well. The situation was so hopeless that she didn't even struggle, just continued to assert like a broken toy that Marsh was dead. She turned her head to see how close she was to the corpse. "He's dead," she whimpered to the face which was impossibly turned her way now, staring at her with the eye that wasn't swollen shut.

Marsh coughed and blood splattered her face.

"Not quite," came Malfoy's whisper.

The scream that tore through the dungeon was the scream of a creature mad from terror. She was prostrate and clutching at Malfoy's robe before she knew she'd even moved. The pleading was inane, but heartfelt. She begged for her life, for mercy, until her voice broke from the strain.

Lucius never moved.

Minutes later, when she finally quieted, he crouched down and stroked her head gently.

"Is your curiosity satisfied, now?" he whispered.

She managed to stop crying long enough to choke out an affirmative.

"Do you ever want to see this place again?"

"No," she moaned.

"I think you mean, 'no, my lord.' Don't you?" Again, he spoke to her tenderly.

"Yes, my lord."

Sighing, he rose gracefully to his feet. When she looked up, his hand was outstretched. She took it without question, hardly believing that he was going to spare her. He pulled her to her feet easily and turned to leave, his hand again on her back.

She wanted to run, but he walked slowly, replaced the wards carefully, and unnecessarily, Rose thought, and doused the torches with a word.

As they traversed the darkness in silence, she leaned into his touch, never wanting to break the contact. Soon, he reached down and took her hand in his. They walked this way to and through the wall, up the stairs, and down the corridor. When they reached the end, Lucius stopped and turned to her. His eyes were warmer, but held a warning.

Wordlessly, he held out her wand. She took it cautiously from his fingers and slid it home on her thigh. He then pulled a black satin cloth from his pocket and wiped the blood from her face. When he was finished, he tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket, still holding her chin in his hand.

"Do we understand one another?" he asked sternly.

"Yes, my lord." Rose answered, and for the first time, she meant it.

Author's note: I would like to humbly apologize to Slytherin Sagittarius and Intel Ewok for the confused credit given to the phrase "Darth Real Life." I'm a moron. Please forgive me.

Mary: The question is, will Lucius ever kiss Rose again? The world may never know. Well, okay, I know, but I'm not telling. Hope you continue to enjoy.

Lady Jenilyn: Mutual groupies, I can dig it. I'm glad my descriptions 'kicked your ass,' but are you okay? If you want anything in Lucius' office, you just take it, my dear. I'm flattered. I was jealous that I hadn't thought of the collection of rare magical objects. That seemed so... natural. Whereas, there was a reason for Lucius to have those research materials out. You should really be careful getting too warm and cozy with Lucius. He's very good at luring people into a sense of calm and then, WHAM! I really like that about him. You just never know when he's going to strike. I'm glad that Lucius covered in blood made you shiver. There's a vivid picture in my head of him coming up the stairs, his steps a little heavier than before, and Rose getting her first view of bloody hair, then face, then clothing, then seeing that the skin is not even visible on his hands. And, somehow, he's still sexy! It's amazing! I appreciate the advice about Creative Writing classes. I'll take your word for it. I would hate for my love of writing to be crushed under the heel of some tyrannical teacher. By the way, if you do decide to torture Ron Weasley to death, I'll be your loudest cheerleader.

Annie: Wow! Your compliments about my Lucius just blew me away! Thank you! That doesn't seem like enough, but it's deeply felt. I'm careful with my portrayal of him because I want him to be well-rounded. I hate the idea of his being a mindless killer. Actually, your point about Alex's personality split came as a complete revelation. I had never considered that aspect of it, but you're right on the mark. As a ending note, allow me to assure you that you've never gotten carried away. Your reviews are wonderful, aside from padding my ego (which I really need), they are full of very useful information. Positive reinforcement is a powerful teacher.

Rycca Wolfbane: Okay about the reading a complicated tango (very creative description, by the way), please tell me if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Is it too complicated? Should I simplify things? Do I need more explanation? Or are complicated tangos fun? If I ever wrote Lucius as a tragic hero, I beg your forgiveness. I shudder at the thought of anyone writing him that way. He's just not that helpless. I'm glad that 23 made you happier with Lucius, and I hope that future chapters continue to agree with you.

Fleur K: Oh, that wasn't rambling. That was an informed guess, and those are fun to read. I'm impressed with your insight into both their characters. I think you have the measure of Lucius and his intensions pretty close to the mark.

Arabella Minerva: So, you don't think he'd punish Rose? Let's hope you're right. I imagine that a book on Malfoy family history would be fairly interesting, but I enjoy books about maniacal bad-guys. Dolohov died the night she made her first kills in chapter 12. Sorry if I wasn't clear about that. Give your doggie a 'happy birthday' hug from me, okay? What's his/her name?

Silverfey: I was actually waiting for my 'Go You' before I posted this chapter. I just love that! I'm sorry that it will take you a while to update, but good things are worth waiting for. I'm waiting impatiently, though, there's no getting around that. I'm just too high strung. I'm really interested to see what you make of the whole Lucius/Draco relationship. There are so many possibilities! I kind of like the fact that this chapter felt sad for you. After all, if it conveyed strong emotion at all, then I did my job, and I meant for it to be a bit more sinister than other chapters, and this one even more so. I listened to The Dark Side of the Moon the whole time I was writing it, and I think that may have affected the tone. That's kind of groovy. I think that you're a terrific writer as well, Silverfey. Thanks for the e-fuzzies.