"Any fool can tell the truth, but it requires a man of some sense to know how to lie well." (Samuel Butler)
The last two weeks of August passed in a blaze of hot, sun-drenched days, but Lucius kept to the cool dark of his study. He had much to consider. The last Death Eater meeting had been instructive and had posed as many questions as it had answered. With his usual flair for the dramatic and macabre George Lepidus, their leader and an old associate of his father's had summoned them to a forgotten crypt in central London. He remembered waiting with the others in the musty, humid dark, his feet crunching over the bones of the dead every time he moved, his mind still filled with images of a gorgeous redhead witch stroking herself to a fine frenzy to what had to have been a fantasy of himself.
Finally Lepidus had arrived, after making them wait, as usual. He had led them into a vaulted circular room, and after some spells for light had been cast, he had thrown a bundle of papers onto the stone table in the center. "My agent in Budapest recovered these at an auction last week," he said. The black masked faces turned to the chief wizard. "What are they," Lucius asked. Lepidus had looked at him. "Letters written by one of the great wizards of the age, Falco Sartorius." Sartorius – again – he had heard that name much too often recently. It seemed that more than coincidence had to be at work here.
Lepidus faced the group and continued. "It seems that Sartorius did something a few months before his death that could help us in our efforts to resurrect our master. In one of the letters I acquired he boasts to his son Wilhelm that he has been able to actually attain that most elusive of alchemistical achievements, the production of a viable homunculus." "How is that helping us with the Dark Lord?" asked one of the Death Eaters. Lucius recognized the thick, raspy voice of Vincent Crabbe. The man was as big as he was stupid, and Lepidus shot him a contemptuous glance through the eye-slits of his mask.
"A homunculus is a tiny human shell, soulless, yet alive. After its production it will survive in its hermetically sealed vial forever. But when the seal is broken, the homunculus needs to be fed with human blood for 40 days, all the while growing and aging rapidly. Blood from a man will result in a male, from a woman in a female. When the time has come a soul or spirit can then be transferred or infused into the shape and the homunculus will live as a human being."
There were excited comments from the witches and wizards. "Silence," commanded Lepidus. "We do not have the homunculus. We merely know that one was produced. Unfortunately the demise of the Sartorius family has made it difficult for us to locate any of their effects. Much was destroyed when we last attacked them. The rest of their possessions was scattered to the winds." Suddenly Lepidus had turned round and stared at Lucius. "We have had an interesting development recently, though. Have we not, Malfoy? Why don't you enlighten us?" He could still recall the sudden stab of irrational fear that shot through him. It was clear what Lepidus was referring to. Yet, he found he was more than reluctant to speak, to reveal what he knew.
"Well, it seems that Hogwarts has a new professor of muggle studies, a witch by the name of Eleanor Sartorius," he said, hoping that he would not have to elaborate. The chief Death Eater had suddenly moved forward, bringing his masked face right next to his, and it had taken all of his self-possession not to take a surprised step back. "And when were your planning to share this bit of information with us?" The question was no more than a quiet and threatening hiss.
Lucius thought quickly. "Lepidus, I already interviewed her on behalf of the school board. She is a useless disgrace to her illustrious family. Her parents raised her as a muggle. Muggle studies is all she knows. She would not recognize a homunculus if it bit her. Finally, I have only found out just now that we even have an interest in the Sartorius family. I really do object to your insinuations that I have been failing in my duties."
Lepidus turned away from the blond wizard with a snarl. "Everything you know is of interest to me. So don't make any excuses. Sometimes I really wonder how you could be your father's son." Then he had addressed the group. "Here is our plan. I will take four of you and we will go to Hungary and Germany. I know the trail is cold, but we need to start in Cologne. My agent has already managed to detain the muggle who offered the letters for sale. We will find out what he knows and take it from there.
Malfoy, the Sartorius woman is your responsibility– I have had reports that you have quite a reputation with that sort of thing. Seduce her, fuck her, torture her, I don't care, but find out what she knows and what she doesn't know. If the homunculus went to England with her parents, we have to use her to locate it."
Lucius had flown home in a daze. He had lied to George Lepidus, their leader, a man of even more ruthless cruelty than his father, second perhaps only to Lord Voldemort himself. He had lied to protect Eleanor Sartorius. Though he had tried to tell himself that he had really lied to protect his interest in her as a conquest, even he didn't buy his own arguments. He had looked into Lepidus' glittering eyes behind the mask and he had felt pure, stomach churning fear for her.
Now he was sitting by himself in his study trying to figure out how to get out of the whole mess without Lepidus finding out about his deception and without Eleanor getting hurt. Ideally he would obtain the information about the homunculus from her, she would not realize that she had been played and he would still manage to get laid in the process. Ideally…
In the meantime he was reading up on everything he could find on the arcane art of producing homunculi. If they could find the Sartorius specimen, they could rehouse Voldemort's disembodied spirit, and the destruction that the Dark Lord's encounter with the Potter family had caused would be reversed. The reward and prestige for the wizard or witch who managed to restore Voldemort would be immense. No wonder Lepidus was on edge.
So Lucius spent his days and nights in his study and library, buried among alchemy texts and taking a little time off now and then to cook up some vorax potion. He wanted to be prepared for Sartorius' next visit, and a little aphrodisiac never hurt. After all, Borgin's caput mortuum had been first rate, as usual, and he might as well put it to some good use. Occasionally he set out his skrying bowl and checked up on Eleanor until he ran out of hair. However, he did not have as much luck as he had during his first attempt and saw her mostly either sleeping or working. He found himself waiting for her owl as the days passed. When would she come and see him?
Summer finally came to an end, and the Hogwarts Express arrived from London. Eleanor had finished translating her grandfather's book and knew that she would not be able to delay her visit to Malfoy Manor much longer. The start of the school year, however, provided her with a welcome excuse to take a few more days to consider. The longer she postponed her encounter the more conflicted she became about it.
Part of her was impatient at seeing Lucius again. It was the part that entertained a strong suspicion that this time the official part of the interview would be very short indeed, and even the study of Falco's treatise would not be the main activity of the evening. She had been by herself for well over six months now, and had reached a point where her imagination and her own hands just didn't seem to be enough any more.
From a physical perspective Lucius Malfoy was a safe and sure bet. The man looked like he knew what he was doing in bed. He would most likely be a superb lover, and as he was married, as she had found out, he was going to keep things discrete and contained. He had no more interest in making this emotional or complicated or public than she had. She didn't want a relationship, not while so many other questions in her life were open, but some mind-blowing recreational sex would be perfect.
The rational and ethical part of her, on the other hand, grew more and more apprehensive. She was playing a game that was both dangerous and reprehensible. Her history and family loyalty should prevent her from ever considering a Malfoy as anything other than an enemy. He was a follower of Voldemort and as such both ruthless and dangerous and ultimately would not have her interest at heart at all.
A small voice inside her told her that even without any emotional involvement she could still get hurt and her reputation at Hogwarts could be destroyed. Sleeping around with one of the governors would be enough for that. But there was the old Sartorius allure of the dangerous and forbidden. Her grandfather had had it, and right now it made her want Lucius Malfoy even more.
So she sat through the feast and sorting ceremony on the start of term evening, got on with her first week of lessons and found that she actually enjoyed teaching kids, and finally, during the second week sat down and wrote a short letter to Lucius, selected a bird from the owlery and released it before she had time to think it over yet again. The answer arrived the same evening, delivered by his familiar eagle owl. She was in her room going over her teaching materials and now looked at the small, unmarked parchment-wrapped packet that her messenger had left behind. The thick vellum came easily apart in her hands and revealed a folded letter and a flat oval object wrapped in black silk paper.
As she peeled back the silk paper she held what appeared to be a twisted piece of silver jewelry in her fingers. She was just bending her head to examine it closer when she almost dropped it with a soft cry of surprise. The silver began to slide and move like liquid mercury, and she saw two small glittering snakes with lifelike scales and eyes lift their faces at her, flick out tiny silver tongues to taste her skin and then slither around until they had formed a bracelet around her right wrist. Two smaller snakes that were attached to the bracelet by thin delicate silver chains slipped down the back of her hand and formed a perfectly fitting ring.
As soon as the jewelry had adjusted itself the snakes seemed to petrify. She lifted her hand and examined her gift from all sides. The workmanship was exquisite, and the magical properties were unlike anything she had seen before. Lucius' taste as usual was beyond reproach. Next she reached out with her snake-encircled hand and picked up the folded note.
"Dear Eleanor,
I am delighted to hear that your studies of your grandfather's legacy have come to a satisfying close and look forward to sharing your insights with you as far as you would like to discuss them with me. It will be an honor to welcome you to my house and to make you feel welcome in every way. I am sending you a portkey that I hope will be to your taste. Please accept it as a gift. The activation spell is 'abraxas'. I am expecting you this Friday at around 7 and hope that the time is convenient for you.
Always, Lucius"
It was Thursday night already, so tomorrow would be the day. Her heart beat faster. Suddenly it seemed there was no time at all. However, she could understand why Lucius had picked the day before a Saturday when there would be no classes. If he had the same things in mind as she had, it would be nice not to have to be up at dawn to teach. She hoped that if everything went according to plan she would be far too tired for that. Unable to go to sleep just yet, she started on the preparations. After a thoughtful glance at her bracelet she decided a return gift was finally in order. She did not want to create the impression that Lucius had bought her in any way.
As she looked over her room her eyes fell on the leather bound notebook that now held her handwritten translation of her grandfather's grimoire. She raised her eyebrows. Giving a book on the dark arts to a confirmed black wizard was like pouring oil on fire. But as she thought back to what she had translated, she decided that would be less risky than it sounded. Her ancestor had really not described a lot of new spells and curses, but rather looked at old practices and found substitutions for ingredients and procedures that had become rarer and rarer as civilization developed. Recipes, for example, that called for body parts of hanged felons to be collected from gibbets at the new moon just were not easily obtained these days, though rumor at school had it that there were still only few things that could not be had through Borgin and Burke's in Knockturn Alley in London.
So if Lucius decided to use dried blood from a bloodbank mixed with myrrh and natron and some bone meal from a local muggle gardening center instead of Egyptian caput mortuum, for example, that would be just fine, and it would suit muggle Egyptologists as well.
She placed a new empty notebook on top of her translation and pulled out her wand. "Scriptum duplico" she murmured, making a copy. She wrote a short dedication on the fly-leaf, signed it and wrapped the present. She also picked out some clothes to wear for the following night: a floor-long, low-cut black velvet dress with flared sleeves that had insets in burnt-out flame colored velvet. She knew it fitted her very well and hoped that it would be sufficiently striking. She hung the dress outside her wardrobe, selected a matching cloak and set out a pair of black, pointed shoes. Ready. Now she could just change after dinner on Friday and use the portkey.
Finally she took a long look at her bracelet. It was too elaborate to wear to school and would certainly draw attention and comments. However, the snakes fit her quite snugly and there was no way to just slip the jewelry off. She thoughtfully rubbed along the shiny silver scales. "Come on, off with you," she whispered and was surprised to see the snakes unfreeze and very obediently slither off her hand and arrange themselves into a little sliver knot on her desk.
Lucius Malfoy got welcome news on Friday morning. An owl arrived from the Black residence and informed him that Narcissa planned to stay with her family for another three weeks. With the exception of the feasts at Midsummer and Lammas that were already over, the round of social engagements only started back up in October anyway, so there really was no need for her to be back just yet. Lucius suspected that she wanted to make the most of her time until Draco attended Hogwarts and there would be no need to employ a private tutor any more.
As far as he was concerned she was welcome to her affair. That meant no one would be around to cramp his style with Eleanor. He would even be able to show her around the place for a bit. A witch of the old houses would surely appreciate the traditions of a place like Malfoy Manor. He spent the rest of the day preparing for her visit.
By evening the house elves were quivering, fearful bundles of misery, but the manor was spotlessly perfect from attic to dungeons. Soft candlelight illuminated the library, and some of the most treasured books were seemingly casually laid out on reading tables for his guest to inspect. Comfortable chairs were pulled up, the fireplaces cleaned and lit and wine waited in coolers and decanters. Lucius finally stood in his bedroom and cast a critical glance at his surroundings.
He felt less assured of a successful seduction than he had on many other occasions, which he found quite irritating. But if he was honest with himself he had to admit that the heiress of Sartorius was not just your average witch. She wanted him, he was certain, but she was also proud and intelligent, she would want him on her terms, not necessarily on his. Money and status would not impress her, as her own family provided the latter, and a reliable source at Gringotts had informed him that she was not lacking the former. The fact that he was now also on a mission for the Death Eaters to gather information about the homunculus didn't help matters at all.
Best to concentrate on the task at hand. He had the house elves set out candles and prepare some incense burners with her favorite scents, cover the bed with new black silk sheets, light the fireplace and set out some bottles of massage oils. As he looked around his eyes fell on the vorax potion. For a moment he thought to perhaps use it to spike some of the wine, but then dismissed that approach. He was not going to resort to silly ploys that had served him in his teens. He would offer her some, if the situation allowed it, but it would be her choice.
Finally he decided the only thing left would be to get ready himself. He managed to relax with the help of a bath, used a spell to dry his hair and then walked over to his dressing room to pick out his clothes for the evening. He wanted something more casual than the attire he had worn to their previous meetings. After some deliberation he settled on a grey silk shirt unbuttoned at the throat, a knee-long waistcoat, cut from black damask silk and a pair of black pants. He walked over to the library, picked up a copy of the Daily Prophet, poured himself a glass of claret and settled down to wait.