An Encounter
"In life there are meetings which seem like a fate." (Edward Bulwer Lytton: Lucile, part II, canto III, pt. 8)
The musty smell in the old cramped shop was stronger than usual in the warm summer air as Lucius Malfoy strode into Borgin and Burke's. With his lips twitching in disgust he carefully stepped over a few open boxes that contained assorted mummy parts. He had just had his boots shined and it would not do to get this filth all over them. Obviously Mr. Borgin had got new supplies that morning as an old and bent house elf with a long yellow scar across his face was busy dragging more trunks and boxes to the back of the store for sorting.
Presently the owner of the store appeared out of the shadows behind the counter and approached his costumer, rubbing his hands in anticipation of a juicy and profitable deal. "Mr. Malfoy, always such a pleasure to see a wizard of your arcane knowledge of the dark arts. What can I do for you today? We have a consignment of mummies, just arrived from Thebes. I can grind some up for you for some fresh caput mortuum. Does wonders in rejuvenation and love potions, not that either yourself or your lovely wife would need any…" He trailed off. It was very easy to offend the Malfoys, haughty and arrogant wizards, all of them.
The blond man before him didn't even bother to hide the look of contempt on his elegant features. What a sorry mess of a store. It was really a shame that a self-respecting wizard had to venture into a den like this to get the basic necessities of his craft. More than high time that the dark arts came out of the cobweb-laden backstreets and were accorded their proper respect. His father and Voldemort had tried it once, and it would happen again if he and the other Death Eaters could help it. Well, he was here for a purpose, so he should best get it over with.
Lucius Malfoy handed Mr. Borgin a prepared list of rather dubious tinctures, powders and plant extracts and while the shopkeeper and his elf scurried about to assemble the order he busied himself poking at some of the mummy pieces with his black silvertipped snake cane. "Grind me up this bit here as well," he demanded, pointing at a leathery skull that still had a few wisps of hair pasted to its sides.
Borgin, who had just placed the last vial on the list into the soft woodchip padding of a cardboard box, came forward, picked up the head and tossed it to his elf, who disappeared with it to the back of the store where shortly they heard chopping noises and then the crunching of an old mechanical coffee grinder. Borgin tried to make polite conversation, but finally gave up when his customer seemed more engrossed examining the chased silver snake head atop his cane and flicking imaginary pieces of dust off his pale grey summer cloak.
Finally the elf reappeared and presented a small wooden container to his master, who labeled it and stowed it among the other philters and poisons in Mr. Malfoy's box. "Have it delivered to Malfoy Manor as soon as possible," the wizard demanded. "How much do I owe you?" Borgin went over the prices in his head, added a few extra galleons for having to put up with the contempt of a Malfoy and stated his final sum. The blond wizard's lips curled in a brief display of displeasure, but he pulled out a fat leather purse and paid without a comment. Then he turned on his heel and strode out of Borgin and Burkes.
"Bloody uppity toff," snarled the elf and Burgin pretended to give him a small kick for his rudeness. "That, and one of my best customers," he said, leering at his assistant. "Come on Scars, let's get these old Egyptians chopped up."
Outside the store Lucius Malfoy quickly made his way up Knockturn Alley, carefully avoiding contact with the filthy witches and wizards that lurked in the cool shadows between the narrow storefronts. What a sorry and decrepit place. He really had to set up a suitably discreet arrangement where he could simply owl Burgin his supply lists, have Gringotts transfer the money via a fake account to protect his identity and be done with it. Finally he came up a last flight of steps and merged back into the general traffic of visitors on Diagon Alley. He turned left and slowed his pace as he looked around if anyone had seen him. He didn't care for any idle gossip connecting him with the goings-on in Knockturn Alley.
No one seemed to pay attention. As a matter of fact, Diagon Alley was not very busy at all. As he strolled down the pavement a shop door a few houses down the road opened and three witches piled out. He heard a peal of laughter and watched as the youngest of the women briefly put her arms around the waists of her companions as they walked away in front of him.
Two of the witches he thought he knew. Being on the board of governors for Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Magic he had encountered Professor McGonagal often enough to recognize that green and brown plaid anywhere. The other witch in a dirt stained robe with stubborn brown curls and a hat like an upended turnip had to be Professor Sprout. Seeing either of those hags should not have had any effect on him, but the young witch between them was an entirely different matter.
Lucius Malfoy felt his pulse quicken at the sight of her. She was tall and slim and clad in a blue-grey dress with a tight-fitting embroidered bodice and loose sleeves. The hem of the skirt almost reached her ankles and revealed naked white feet that seemed to dance over the rough flagstones of the road as she walked. As she turned her head left and right in animated conversation with the other two women she kept tossing a mass of coppery red curls that cascaded down her back almost all the way to her narrow waist. Unlike most witches she did not wear a hat. As a matter of fact she did not look much like a witch at all to him, and he rather found himself wondering, if anyone had ever encountered a red-headed Veela.
Maiden, Mother and Crone, now he was getting carried away! But there was something about this woman that made him want to see her face, to meet her. What was she doing with McGonagal and Sprout anyway? Who was she? He slowed his pace, pretended to look at some displays in the store windows and let the three women get ahead of him. It wouldn't do to give the impression that he had been following them.
The witches eventually crossed the road and studied a floating menu display at a café that had put out chairs and tables halfway into the street to make the best of the warm sunny summer weather. They conferred and finally settled at a table piling shopping bags and boxes around them. As they were now facing the street they would notice him.
Quickly he ducked into the doorway of a shop and picked up a rememberall from a display. A few seconds now and he would turn back, pretend to see two members of staff from Hogwarts and in his position would of course have to go over to them and be so polite as to have a brief conversation. Time enough to get introduced to the mystery woman and to take a good look at her.
Eleanor Sartorius had fun. When she had mentioned during breakfast at Hogwarts that she needed some clothes and robes, as her muggle garments were rather inappropriate to wear at the school, Minerva McGonagal and Pomona Sprout had volunteered with some enthusiasm to accompany her to Diagon Alley to help her get everything she needed. So she had picked out the most witch-like dress that she had brought back with her from her life as a muggle, and they had set out later that morning. Pomona wanted to go to Viridias Seed and Bulb Emporium to pick out supplies for the next school year and Minerva needed a new sheath for her wand and some feather mite powder for her owl.
After a long morning of shopping she had bought some dresses, a summer and a winter cloak, several tunics, coats and pants, and some boots and shoes. Despite the earnest attempts of her friends to make her buy herself some hats, she had steadfastly refused, though. She hated hats. She had also baulked at their suggestion to buy underwear. The spandex revolution had completely bypassed the wizarding world, and her muggle bras and panties were both sexier and more comfortable than anything The Witch's Closet in Diagon Alley had to offer.
So now they sat at a street table at the Silver Teapot Caf and rested their tired legs. She closed her eyes for a moment and turned her face into the warm summer sun. She really didn't regret her decision to join the staff at Hogwarts. Everyone had made her feel very welcome so far. Presently a young man appeared to take their order.
"Hm, Janus Miller," said Minerva, recognizing him as a student. "Working during the summer vacations?" Miller, a tall, freckled boy, nodded. "Yes Professor, I want to go and study in Alexandria next year when I finish school. Their college fees are rather high, though, I'm afraid." "Ah, yes, the Hermetica in Alexandria," said the witch approvingly. "It will be worth it. We'll leave a nice tip." Then Pomona ordered two pumpkin poppers and a chilled chocolate, Minerva picked out a fire pepper bow and some earl grey and Eleanor decided on some green tea and a puff pastry filled with cheese and herbs that went by the imaginative name of Dragon Snot Purse. Young Miller went back inside to get their order prepared.
With some time to kill Eleanor stretched her legs under the table and looked around at the witches and wizards that walked along the street, studied the displays, haggled with street vendors and occasionally paused in small groups to chat.
Suddenly a man on the other side of the road drew her attention. He was obviously a wizard, but of an appearance that stood out in the crowd. His shoulder long hair was so blond as to be almost white. He was tall and had thrown a grey summer cloak back over his right shoulder to reveal a white silk shirt, grey waistcoat and tan riding pants with knee-high soft leather boots. Every piece of his clothing spoke of taste and the money to satisfy it. But even more than by his clothes she felt arrested by his face: high forehead, hooded grey eyes under arched brows, a proud, curved, sensuous mouth that seemed to curl in a faint arrogant sneer, chiseled cheekbones and a firm round chin. This was a face not easy to forget.
Just as she looked, his pale grey eyes suddenly focused on her with a quite unnerving intensity. He had caught her watching him and he seemed somewhat amused by his discovery. Her breath quickened in response.
"Oh, no," she suddenly heard Pomona sigh beside her. "Now we've done it!" "What," asked Minerva. "Lucius Malfoy, he's seen us." And really, the wizard in grey was increasing his stride and preparing to cross the road. "Who's Lucius…?" Eleanor began to ask, but Minerva interrupted her in a rushed whisper. "Bad news, my dear, follower of You-Know-Who, though that was never proved. These days he's on the board of governors for Hogwarts and an arrogant, overbearing pain in the behind. Hates Albus, too. Lets try to get rid of him quickly."
"Well, what a pleasant surprise," purred Lucius Malfoy with a self-satisfied smirk as he approached the table. This had gone down exactly as planned. The red-haired woman had seen him just when he had wanted her to, and her dilated pupils told him that he had left an impression. However, she had not backed off or looked away when he had met her eyes, which was interesting. She seemed to enjoy a challenge.
"Professors McGonagal and Sprout," he continued as he shook hands. "And, pray, may I inquire about your charming companion?" Pomona looked up at their visitor as if she had just swallowed a spider. And from what Eleanor could see of the wizard's face, the dislike was mutual. "This is Professor Sartorius, our new teacher for muggle studies," she said curtly.
Finally Lucius was at liberty to direct his full attention to his new discovery. "Professor Sartorius, I am Lucius Malfoy." Voice like silk over gravel, she thought as she stretched out her hand to shake his, but instead was surprised when he firmly held on to her fingers and bent to kiss the back of her hand. His full, smooth lips lingered a moment longer than they had to, and even when he straightened back up he didn't let go of her. "Forgive me, but I couldn't help noticing an intoxicating scent," he continued in a low voice, making this into the semblance of an intimate conversation that excluded the other two women. "Would it be too bold of me to ask you to you reveal your secret to me?"
Pomona snorted in disgust, but Lucius' gaze remained firmly fixed on his prize. The Sartorius woman was an extraordinary beauty. Her green gold-flecked eyes met his as she licked the full bow of her upper lip, and when she answered he detected a slight hint of an accent in her deep rich voice. "Well, it's a recipe I mix myself," she said. "Three parts frankincense, one part Siamese benzoe and a half part juniper. All suspended in almond oil. It has the added benefit of being a reliable protectant." He inclined his head and gave her a seductive smile. "Thank you," he murmured. "I hear the faintest accent," he continued, unwilling to give up on the conversation just yet, but he finally released her hand. "Are you of the Cologne Sartorius family?"
The unwavering gaze from his grey eyes seemed to acquire a strange edge as he spoke and he watched as the velvety skin at her throat moved. She had to swallow before she answered him. Suppressed anger colored her voice now and he felt a brief thrill of excitement at her emotion. "Well, due to relatively recent events there are no Sartorius left in Cologne," she said.
If he was a follower of Voldemort, then he had to know that people like him had been responsible for the death of her uncle's family and the exile of hers. "But, yes, I am the granddaughter of Falco Sartorius." He stared at her now, but recovered his composure almost immediately. "I consider it an honor to meet you," he said in the same velvety voice that he had used with her before.
Now he turned slightly to Minerva and said: "It is reassuring to see that Professor Dumbledore actually considers adding a pureblood witch to his staff for once. Do we have a replacement for Defense against the Dark Arts, yet?" Minerva compressed her lips and shook her head. "Dreadful business," Lucius continued smoothly. "But as long as the headmaster picks incompetent people like Dreyfuss, we will have problems. Seems like we are interviewing a new candidate every year. Well, let me know when you have acquired your latest victim. I would like to speak with the new staff later this summer. The board of governors really needs to get more involved in the appointment process." Eleanor noticed that Minerva looked quietly furious by now, but then had to focus again on the blond wizard standing before her, as he resumed speaking to her.
"Professor, it has been most delightful talking with you. I hope to be able to review your curriculum with you in a few weeks time for the board of governors. In the meantime, if you lack anything at Hogwarts, please do not hesitate to let me know. We take the welfare of our staff very seriously." He locked eyes with her one more time, as if he wanted to commit her face to memory in every detail or perhaps as if they had just reached some kind of secret agreement. "Well, I need to be going, enjoy your lunch." He kissed her hand once more, taking his time as before, gave the other witches a dismissive wave, tossed his cloak back over his shoulder and strode off in the direction of Gringotts.
"What a lying creep!" hissed Pomona. "Welfare of the staff, my foot! He was hoping you lacked something else entirely, that he would be only too happy to provide!" Minerva looked at her colleague in alarm. "Please, Pomona, could you try and be less blunt?" "Well, it's true, isn't it? You saw him! Eleanor, are you all right?"
Eleanor blinked and refocused on the conversation. She had to admit that she had been following him with her eyes. "It's okay, my dear," she said, trying to sound matter-of-fact. "I know when someone tries to put the moves on me. And this certainly was a pretty obvious attempt." Professor Sprout was not impressed. "The way you look my dear, I would say that it worked, too. I tell you, the guy is as bad as he is blond. I would not be surprised if his father had been part of the gang of Death Eaters that killed your uncle." Eleanor nodded. "I know. Look Pomona, I am well aware of what just happened. He certainly did not endear himself to me by being rude to you."
At that moment Janus Miller came back out with a large tray and soon the conversation drifted off to other topics. But Eleanor still caught herself trying to remember the way he had looked at her. Something strange had been going on among the hand-kissing and polite conversation. She had felt a flow of energy and a dark undercurrent. The meeting had shaken her up in more ways than she could explain away by pure physical attraction and by her knowledge of his alliance to Lord Voldemort.
Lucius Malfoy slowed his pace when he was sure he was out of sight of the cafe. He found himself breathing hard. The witch was a Sartorius. Falco's granddaughter no less, when everyone had thought that the whole family had perished. The rout had taken place when he had been in his teens. His father had already presented him to the Death Eaters, but he had been too young yet, to join them on missions like that. However, he recalled the trip to the continent his father had made with the others under the command of the Dark Lord in the hopes to win the alliance of the German chapter of the Death Eaters, who still called themselves at the time the Knights of Walpurgis.
His father had been furious when they returned. The mission had failed, three of the group had been killed, and it had put the whole continental branch of the organization in an uproar. Lucius also suspected that his father had actually been unhappy at the extermination of one of the old pureblood houses, but of course had not been able to confront Voldemort about his ruthless approach for fear of being punished himself as a traitor.
The wizard found himself walking on in a daze. He was unsure about his next plans, which in itself felt rather unnerving. Yes, he now lusted after her with a vengeance, but that was actually the easy part. He certainly had been there before and had normally no trouble getting what he wanted. But while he had talked to her, he had been aware of something else beside desire. He had felt a connection. Her deep, green eyes had drawn him to her, as if being with her and seeing her resembled some kind of drug or spell. He needed to do more research. How had she survived? Where did she come from? Why was she teaching – what – muggle studies – at Hogwarts? A Sartorius teaching about muggles? This was preposterous! He had been too preoccupied with her appearance to notice how ludicrous this had sounded. So if it was a pretext, what was her real purpose?
Lucius snapped out of his reveries when he found himself right outside the Leaky Cauldron. He had meant to stop at the bank, but instead had walked almost the full length of Diagon Alley. Slightly annoyed at himself, he decided not to retrace his steps but to head back home. His financial matters could wait another day. He had more pressing business.
Eleanor Sartorius spent the evening trying on her new wardrobe. She was very pleased with her purchases as she looked at herself in the tall mirror in her bedroom at Hogwarts. Muggle clothes were so mundane, functional and ugly when compared to the exuberance of witch garments. She buttoned up her last piece, a dark plum velvet tunic with black and burnt orange trim and met her own gaze in the glass. What had Lucius Malfoy seen when he'd looked at her that noon? Why couldn't she put the brief encounter out of her thoughts?
She hadn't been born yesterday and had had her fair share of men: a few boys at Durmstrang, none of the relationships serious enough to survive the parting of everyone at the end of the last year, though. Then there had been Nigel, a muggle, when she had come back to London to study history of art. That had been a bit more serious and lasted for over two years, but Nigel had got a scholarship to the States, and she had already found her mentor in London, so they had separated. She had taken a few months to recover and then had dated a few guys, just for fun, no commitments.
The next long involvement had been with Marcus, her mentor's assistant when she had worked on her thesis. But Marcus had started to talk about a more serious commitment, and she had been spooked. He did not know about her past, about her family, or about her magical abilities, and she felt that to marry him would mean living a lie. So she had eventually broken things off. The split had not been amicable.
Still, in all her memory she could not remember that any of her men had affected her during a first encounter in quite the way Lucius Malfoy had. 'If I possessed an ounce of family loyalty and was a true Sartorius, I would fantasize about putting the cruciatus curse on him and watch him writhe at my feet in agony,' she thought. Quickly she shook her head to clear her mind. That was even more disturbing than her previous imaginings of ripping his elegant clothes off him and having furious, passionate sex. Now, apparently she was drifting off into some questionable realm of sadism. Enough already!
A sudden noise at the window of her bedroom broke her train of thought. She looked up and saw a big shadow beating at the lead glass panes. Quickly she walked over and opened the window to find a large dark eagle owl sitting on the sill and looking at her out of hard yellow eyes. She walked over to her study and picked up a heavy black owling glove. "Come on in, then," she said to the owl, who hopped off the sill and onto her outstretched hand. Eleanor placed him on a perch and looked at his feet. "Well, you're one gorgeous bird, so let's see what you have for me."
The owl had a small black tube tied to its left leg and as Eleanor unscrewed it she noticed a beautiful silver intaglio down the sides, depicting flying snakes. Elegance down to the last detail. She had a pretty strong suspicion about the owner of the owl. The tube contained a small rolled up piece of parchment that felt like cream under her fingertips – finest quality vellum. She unfurled the paper and saw what had to be the Malfoy crest at the top, a silver snake, coiled to strike, on black with the motto nemo me impune lacessit – no one provokes me unpunished. She thought that this was rather fitting for the haughty clan of the Malfoys and then read the message, penned in black ink in a bold and fluid script.
"Dear Professor Sartorius,
It was most delightful to meet you this morning. I would like to thank you for your grace and courtesy and take this opportunity to welcome you more formally to our school. No doubt, it will be a pleasure and a privilege for the staff and the students to be able to profit from your knowledge during the upcoming school year. As a member of the board of governors I would like to let you know that we are all honored to have a descendant of the illustrious Sartorius family join our community. If you require anything during your time here, please do not hesitate to let me know. I regard it as a personal honor to be able to make your stay here as enjoyable as possible.
Sincerely yours, Lucius Malfoy."
Well, this man didn't waste time. It seemed wizards had other rules than muggles, who maintained that an agonizing wait had to take place between a meeting and the first phone call. She had already been owled and it had only been hours. She released the parchment, which rolled itself back up and took a long look at the owl. Well, here was a little bit of revenge for her: she would let him stew. The letter really only asked for her to contact him if she needed anything, and as she was settled in quite comfortably, there was no need to write a reply.
She fastened the empty tube back on the owl's foot, offered him some water and sent him on his way. The entire time she tried to ignore the nagging voice in her head that tried to convince her that in fact, she did require quite a few things, that Lucius Malfoy had exactly what she needed and that she was only punishing herself for not asking for it. She slammed the window shut after the owl. "Shut up already!" she hissed at herself.