"Not all things have to be scrutinized, nor all friends tested, not all enemies exposed and denounced." (Spanish Proverb)
A few weeks had passed and Eleanor Sartorius had actually managed to put her encounter so far behind her that she only caught herself thinking about Lucius Malfoy once in a while rather than on a continuous basis. She spent time racing brooms with Madame Hooch, as her own practice had become quite rusty over the years she had lived among muggles. The school library also held her interest for long hours, and some of the evenings she went over to Hogsmeade with a group of the teachers and sat outside the Three Brooms drinking elderberry wine. Her teaching plan for muggle studies was prepared and written up, and she hoped that her practical approach would interest her young students. She had even got permission from Dumbledore to plan in a few excursions to give everyone some first-hand experience of life as a muggle.
Then, one sunny Monday morning, an owl that looked very familiar to her, landed before Albus Dumbledore at the high table, and after the headmaster had read the message it was carrying, he had informed her and Professor Lana Piotrofski, the new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, that Mr. Malfoy had asked for their time on Thursday evening as he was planning to interview them on behalf of the board of governors.
Time seemed to creep along very slowly that week until finally on Thursday she went up with her colleague to the second floor in the great tower where the school had set aside an office for the use of visiting board members. Lana's interview was scheduled first and Eleanor was surprised that it did not take more than about ten minutes. Then the small elderly Polish witch who had quite a reputation as a fierce dragon slayer stomped out of the room and slammed the door behind her. Eleanor caught a few seemingly unflattering remarks in the professor's native tongue and the words "Stuck-up, arrogant pig, who does he think he is?" Then Professor Piotrofski had disappeared around a corner in the corridor. This did not bode well.
She got up and opened the heavy wood door to the interview room, surprised at the lack of nervousness she felt and at the amount of expectation and excitement at seeing him again. As she entered he rose from behind a parchment-strewn desk and came forward to meet her. He was as magnificent as she recalled him. For this occasion he had donned a dark coppery greatcoat with the top button undone. A taupe-grey neck scarf filled the gap and was held in place by a pin in the shape of two small interlacing snakes. He wore black wool pants tucked into a pair of obviously expensive hand-made knee-high boots, and his white-blond hair was gathered at the nape of his neck by a broad black velvet band. The sleeked-back look seemed to make his cheekbones appear more prominent. She cast a quick glace around. A black cloak, lined with copper astrakhan to match his coat lay over the back of a chair, as did a pair of black leather gloves. A black silver-tipped cane with a snake head for a grip leant against the backrest.
"Professor Sartorius," He stood before her now and held out his hand in greeting. As she took it to shake it he pulled her towards him and as before, during their first encounter, raised the back of her hand to his lips. To her annoyance she found herself holding her breath as he slowly and sensuously pressed his mouth onto her skin, leaving the slightest hint of moisture that cooled as he lifted his face, not before taking in the scent of her, as she could see by a quick flare of his nostrils. "The same intoxicating scent, I see," he murmured, as he reluctantly released her hand. His voice still had the strange mix of quiet silkiness and a somewhat raspy undertone. "Frankincense, benzoe and juniper, yes?"
He abruptly turned away from her and walked back to the desk. "Please, have a seat, my dear professor." She settled down in front of the desk and in looking up met with a sharp glance from him. "I had hoped to receive a reply for my message I owled you a few weeks ago," he stated. Oh, so his lordship was pissed off.
Well, that she could handle better than his snobbish small talk. She composed her features into a bland smile. "Oh, I just did not think that our brief encounter in June warranted any incursions on my part on your undoubtedly precious time. I very much appreciated the sentiments in your message and your kind offer of help, but I have had a perfect summer here at Hogwarts and could not have wished for any other amenities. So I did not feel that I should impose on you. My apologies, if I have been lacking in courtesy."
His face was now fixed in a scowl. Of course, she had just told him in the nicest and most polite terms that their first meeting with all his charm, his elaborate compliments and his subtle attempts at seduction had not made a very big impression on her. She was beginning to enjoy this.
"Very well," he said, his voice having shed some of its silkiness. "Let's get down to business, shall we? – Muggle studies? Why would a Sartorius elect to teach muggle studies?" He might as well have said grub studies or the studies of various kinds of mucus, the way he pronounced muggles, the corners of his mouth curling in a sneer. She leant back. "Well, as an old muggle saying goes, 'Know thine adversary.' It is also said that one should keep ones friends close and ones enemies even closer." She read surprise on his face, his left eyebrow arched towards his hairline.
"Please elaborate, Professor Sartorius." Obviously he had imagined her to express sympathy with the part of humanity that he despised above all others. She leant forward across the desk and steepled her hands before her. "For many centuries since the arrival of Christianity the relationship between the wizarding world and muggles has been somewhat strained, as you are undoubtedly aware. Before that, in ancient Egypt, during the days of the Roman empire and the Celtic kingdoms wizards and witches were the priests and leaders of the people, squibs sank back into the ranks of muggles, and gifted muggle children were apprenticed to the priests to be educated, just look at the way young druids were identified and trained as described by McCullum in De educatio druidum.
After the demise of the ancient religions our worlds drifted apart and the rift reached a peak during the Time of Burning and the Inquisition. Since then we have grown wary of muggles. The fact that their Enlightenment taught them not to believe in us any more helped us to stay hidden. My own family history shows me that they can still threaten us, though. As you know the Sartorius family originates from Cologne. During the 1940s my great-aunt Augusta Sartorius and her infant son were captured by the servants of the dictatorship that then ruled Germany. They were compelled to use their abilities in the service of muggles in order to fight the dictator's enemies. When they refused, they both perished horribly.
So as wizards and muggles still share the same plane of existence, if muggles are our enemies we must study them, and in so far as they associate with us – many of them have fathered very capable wizards and witches, we need to understand them. Knowledge is power, would you not agree with me, Mr. Malfoy? You strike me as a man who understands the dynamics of power very well."
The wizard behind the desk was looking at her intently through grey, hooded eyes. "I do, do I? Well, you may be right. I have never heard the case argued so convincingly, I must admit. Very well, brief me on your curriculum and your proposed approach." At that point the conversation became quite detailed and she was glad she had come prepared.
Part of her suspected that he simply used his questioning as a pretext to keep her with him as long as possible, but he now also seemed to be moved by genuine interest. He followed her explanation of muggle occupations and the structure of contemporary society with a mixture of fascination, disgust and an air of superiority. It seemed his inbred dislike and even hatred of muggles had prevented him from ever trying to find out much about them. Finally she seemed to have satisfied his curiosity.
He made some notes in one of the scrolls in front of him and then looked at her with a smile. "I believe your proposed curriculum has real merit and I will endorse your approach and recommend it to the board. As this is your first teaching assignment at Hogwarts, I shall monitor your progress very closely." She watched him hesitate for a brief moment and then get up and move around the desk to the chair that held his cloak. He briefly bent over and then straightened himself holding a small flat parcel elaborately wrapped in black silk paper. She got up as he approached her.
"I would like to close our official proceedings at this point," he said quietly, his voice having resumed its smooth, rich tone. "I have one more private matter that I need to take care of, though. Apparently you celebrated your birthday yesterday, so I thought it appropriate to mark the occasion with a present. I hope it pleases you." He slipped the parcel into her hands and looked at her expectantly. She paused, unsure whether it would be appropriate to accept a gift from a member of the board of governors. Knowing his reputation she also suspected that it would come with some strings attached. "Mr. Malfoy, I am not clear on whether it would be against the rules for me…" He interrupted her, voice silkier than ever. "Please, why so formal? As I said, the official part of the interview is over, so Lucius will do, if you would do me the honor."
She weighted the present in her hands. Its wrapping alone was a piece of art. The paper was subtly stamped with the Malfoy coat of arms, a twisted silver snake on black. The pale silver ribbon enclosing it was arranged in a delicate ruffle of bows that magically unraveled at her touch. "Lucius," she said, surprising herself with the quick stab of excitement she felt at speaking his first name. "Eleanor, then, please, if you will."
His arched mouth curved in a satisfied smile. "Eleanor," Her name seemed to melt on his tongue like some decadent sweet. He leaned in to her, his voice almost a whisper, his breath caressing her face. "If you have any qualms about a present from a member of the board of governors, we could simply decide that this was our little secret… Why don't you see what's inside first, before you judge?"
She peeled back the paper and held a book in her hand, bound in indigo cloth with a coat of arms on the front that she recognized immediately, a golden lion rampant above a small scorpion and the motto vive lumine, disce opacum. "This belonged to my family," she gasped. Her heart started to beat faster. "Hm," he had remained close to her, peering over her shoulder now. "Why don't you open it?"
She carefully lifted the cover and revealed the author and title on the first page. Falco Sartorius. Ein neuzeitlicher Blick auf die sogenannten schwarzen Kuenste und ihre Anwendung. Her grandfather had written this study on the dark arts, and while she had heard of the book, she had not been able to come across a copy, even though she had tried all summer as part of the research into her past and her forgotten family. "This is a priceless gift," she murmured, then lifted her head and turned to him. "What's the catch?"
Lucius Malfoy felt as if her last remark had slapped him right across the face. When he had picked the present from his own library he had merely tried to find an item that would be so irresistible to her that she would just have to feel grateful to him. And of course he had hoped the gratitude would ultimately be repaid in the currency of sexual favors. Now her blunt question had seemingly exposed his tenuous attempt of ensnaring her and he felt embarrassed and furious at being called on his plans.
He stepped away from her and drew himself up to his full height. "I don't know what is more annoying, your insufferable rudeness or…" To his surprise she moved in and laid her hand on his arm. "Lucius, don't insult the both of us with a mock fit of temper. I expected more from you. No one in their right minds picks a gift like this for a person they have only encountered once without any afterthoughts. Right now you are either insincere or you show a woeful disregard for your magical possessions. Well, which one is it?"
His thoughts were racing. It would not do to just say "Well, I hoped that if you really, really liked the book, you would let me fuck you." There had to be another way out of this. He relaxed his stance and made himself look into her eyes with what he hoped bore the semblance of contrition and sympathy. "The book is part of my library, but I felt that it belonged to you rather than to me. There must be precious few heirlooms left, the way your family was destroyed. And I cannot even read the treatise, as I don't speak German. The nature of the text did not encourage me to just employ a translator. Who knows what an outsider might make of the contents."
She stroked the book absentmindedly and for a moment he wished he was the battered volume, being smoothed, turned and caressed between her long, delicate fingers. When she finally met his gaze again, she looked disappointed. "Thank you, Lucius," she said quietly. "You know, you misjudge me. I don't mind wolves. Actually I have quite a soft spot for them. What I absolutely detest is sheep's clothing. I had hoped you would credit me with more capacity to handle the truth." She moved away from him.
This would never do. If anything his gift had now made a rift between them. He stepped up behind her. "Eleanor, what would you have me say?" he asked, shuddering at how needy that sounded. This was not going down at all as planned. She turned back quickly, almost bumping into him, not expecting him to be standing so close.
"Lucius, I know how my family perished. Falco was a Death Eater, when the Death Eaters were still an old and proud secret society of dark wizards and more than just the mere servants of Voldemort. He was a master of magic, both black and white, a man who followed his own will above all else. His two sons chose different paths, Wilhelm, my father, rejected magic and took his family to England. Conrad followed his father and continued the tradition.
But when Voldemort assimilated the Death Eaters my uncle and his family resisted to the death, and the German branch of the Sartorius ceased to exist. Do you know the Death Eaters loyal to Voldemort who tortured Conrad, Lena and their children? Your father most likely was among them. Did you ever think about how the book came to be in your possession? Voldemort's helpers must have divided the loot among them when they sacked my uncle's house. Now you give it back to me. Why?"
She was staring at him now, her green eyes boring into his grey, nostrils flaring. "Did you give the book back, because you wanted to atone for your father's deeds? Did you want to show me what your family is capable of? Was it meant as an insult? As a peace offering?"
He looked at her, briefly rendered speechless by what he saw. She was more beautiful than he could remember. For the formal occasion of the interview she had dressed in a long dark green velvet tunic that showed a subtle gold pattern of twining knotwork. The tunic fitted her torso snugly showing small high breasts and was unbuttoned from her slim waist down revealing long velvet clad legs and high soft suede leather boots that reached above her knees. Her red hair formed a wild shimmering mane around her face that was now flushed with emotion. Her chest heaved and she breathed through partly opened full lips.
"Eleanor," He reached out and grasped her hands that still held the cloth-bound volume. "I am sorry. When I chose the book I had not fully thought through how I came to have it, and what memories the gift would stir in you. I was happy to have found something that had meaning to you. I would not want to parade my father's deeds before you…"
He trailed off, what else could he say to make it up to her? While he racked his brains, she extricated her right hand that held the book and placed the volume on the desk. Then she took a hold of his left hand, and while he was still immobilized by her sudden touch, she murmured, "Excuse me," and pushed up the sleeve of his greatcoat. The pale skin of the underside of his forearm bore a faint, brown mark that looked like a scar left by a branding iron. It showed a skull with a serpent through its mouth.
He tore his arm out of her grasp, stepped back, but was surprised to see a small sad smile on her face. "You bear Voldemort's mark, you are one of his Death Eaters, just like your father. Don't worry, your secret, as far as it is a secret, is safe with me. I already suspected it. I just needed to see for myself." Lucius Malfoy glared at the woman facing him. What he had pursued as an exciting conquest, levels above the women he would normally snare by relying on his money, looks and power had turned out to be a formidable adversary who had unmasked his bland public persona in a few short, charged minutes.
He seriously contemplated what kind of spell he should use with her to undo the damage of her discovery, when she moved over to the old empty fire-place on the far side of the room. She pointed her wand and a small crackling fire started. Then she clapped and called in a clear voice: "Murry!" Presently the door opened and a small house elf stuck his face around the frame. "What can Murry do for mistress?" he squeaked.
"Lucius, why look so glum? I think we have much to talk about. Would you like some tea?" He snapped out of his contemplation of spells of forgetfulness and amnesia and stared at her. "What?!" "I told you I could handle the truth," she said lightly. "I just detest having the wool pulled over my eyes. So, shall we 'cut the crap', as a muggle would say, and talk this over?" He approached her cautiously, slowly, while she turned to the house elf once more.
"Murry, please be so good and bring us a pot and two cups." She looked back at Malfoy. "Milk? Sugar?" When he shook his head she sent the elf on his errant, seated herself in one of the chairs in front of the fire and patted the one opposite her in invitation. He walked like a man who attempts to sneak around a sleeping dragon as took the place she had offered him.
As they both looked into the fire in an effort to compose their thoughts, he wondered how the power structure of this meeting had so suddenly shifted. He had started out sitting behind his desk as a member of the board of governors in a position of authority, with her coming to him justifying her teaching agenda for the year. Now she told him where to sit and he had to look to her to find out how she would handle the information she had uncovered about him.
He was amazed to find that this reversal of roles excited him, despite it all. He felt challenged, and this struggle of knowledge and wills was very arousing. His lips twitched in a small smile when he realized he actually had already started to get some payback for his gift. He would enjoy sparring with her.
His train of thought got interrupted when the door creaked open once again and Murry, the house-elf came in with a tray and started pouring the tea. Malfoy's brows shot up in amazement when Eleanor took the cups from the large bony hands of the elf and thanked him before sending him on his way. The elf actually grinned at her and gave a little wave as he closed the door behind him. Extraordinary! One really did not thank house elves, did one?
He focused back on his companion as she handed him his cup of tea. Their hands brushed briefly. She leaned back to sip from her cup seemingly lost in thoughts, and finally he broke the silence. "What do you plan to do? From what you are telling me, my family has exterminated your family. I am no better than my father and we should be sworn enemies. All of this puts you squarely in the camp of the do-gooders at the Ministry of Magic, who coddle mudbloods and would banish all use of the dark arts. When are you going to turn me it?" She crossed her legs.
"Not at all," she said evenly. "You must understand this about my family: we would be blacklisted as followers of the dark arts ourselves, if we were still around. Here is what I believe." She took another sip and composed her thoughts. "I think magic works as two halves of a whole, there is a white, rational, active, side to it, and a dark, instinctive, passive side. The ancient masters of the craft knew this and kept the balance. Neither of the two sides is inherently good or bad.
During the last hundred years we have broken the covenant between the light and the dark side. Two camps have formed and they are fighting each other, maintaining that white magic is goodness and the dark arts are evil. Voldemort is just a personification of drives that were around before. I empathize with the practitioners of the dark arts. If the Death Eaters were still the wizards they used to be during the time of my grandfather, I would probably be one myself. But I hate the perversion Voldemort has forced on us. Being a wizard should be first and foremost about realizing your supreme will, your inner potential. But look at yourself."
She paused, feeling surprised that anger was welling up in her. "That – abomination on your arm, that mark! It looks like he branded you. You know what humans used to brand in this way? Slaves and cattle! You are the heir of one of the oldest English houses and you suffer yourself to be branded by some mudblood upstart and serve him instead of yourself. It's a disgrace!"
Her voice had become stern and accusatory. She had taken a calculated risk there, knowing very well that she had spoken to provoke him. She had appealed to his sense of aristocratic superiority, spoken within his frame of reference and she had certainly achieved a result. Crimson red rose in the cheeks of the man sitting across her. His full sensuous mouth had compressed into a thin line of fury, his free hand gripped the armrest of his chair. "You are forgetting yourself, witch!" he hissed. "One more word and you will see what I am really capable of."
She laid her hand on the wand stuck in her belt to show him she was prepared to defend herself. "Then prove me wrong," she challenged him. "Voldemort's father was one plain Mr. Riddle, a muggle, even though his mother was descended in direct line from Salazar Slytheryn. Voldemort did not live by the first rule of wizardry, and you are bearing a mark that brands you as his, that subjugates you to his will, or could you remove it if you wished? Where am I neglecting the truth?"
He stared at her, fighting for control. "You don't know the half of it," he said sharply. "The dark arts were as nothing before Voldemort came along. The power, the exultation, the mastery he showed us! Nothing compares to what is promised us once he can assume his full lordship of this plane of existence. You would do well to associate yourself with us. Once we have restored him he would welcome the heiress of Sartorius with open arms and would honor you among his faithful followers. So don't pass judgment on what you have not experienced for yourself and what you must be ignorant of."
She relaxed her grasp on her wand and leaned back. "An impasse," she sighed. "I do not think we will convince each other this easily. However, I will give your opinion some thought, if you at least agree to give my view of affairs some credit. Would that be acceptable?" He had not thought of it when he had planned their meeting, but now he had a fleeting impression of introducing her into his inner circle. She would be by his side, wearing the dark robes and mask. He would stand behind her as she spoke the oath of the Death Eaters and received the mark and they would be truly joined. What a goal to strive for! What a prize to bring to the Dark Lord! His anger evaporated. She would join his bed and his struggle for power, the abilities of the Malfoys and the Sartorius combined. They should be invincible.
Eleanor saw the shift of thoughts in him, he seemed to relax while another kind of excitement apparently got a hold of him, that was not anger. She tried to fathom his reaction, but his gaze had become unreadable. Inexplicably he backed off, his voice falling back into the smooth silkiness of his superior polite style. "Certainly," he said. "You are a witch of the great houses and of uncommon insight. I should always consider and value your opinion." Then he steered their exchange into a conversation on her summer at Hogwarts and onto other small-talk topics.
She chatted quite amicably, but he could see that part of her had become disengaged from the meeting. It seemed time to wrap things up and allow her to mull everything over. Now how for a way to ensure a new encounter? He had to see her again, preferably outside of Hogwarts, where there were too many listening ears and curious eyes for his taste.
As they both rose to conclude their appointment an idea struck him. "You know, Eleanor, you were right, I had one catch in mind when I gave you your present: I am very curious as to its content. Would you be interested in sharing your research and findings with me? I would love to meet at your convenience and discuss your opinions of the book. Would you owl me when your feel ready? I could arrange for a meeting in my library, where we would be at liberty to talk freely."
She had moved over to the desk to pick up her grandfather's book and turned to him, clearly undecided. He used the time to tidy up the parchments he had been working on, watching her under lowered lids. Finally she straightened with a resolve. "I would like that," she said, and he felt a sharp jolt of exultation. "I am so glad you decided to meet me again. I think our conversation would be very profitable to both of us." She gave him a quizzical look. "Next time round, though, let's not waste so much time on subterfuge," she said. "I do value your honesty, even if I may not agree with all of your opinions. You are a man of uncommon intellectual abilities. – And thank you for my wonderful birthday present."
He bowed, pleased with her frank compliment and shrugged into his cloak. Before he put on his gloves he again kissed her hand for goodbye and watched her leave the room, her long tunic swishing behind her. Then he rolled up his paperwork, picked up his cane and used his wand to perform the necessary magical gestures to reapparate in his study at Malfoy Manor. All in all, the meeting had gone much better than expected.