This story is a sequel to "The Secret of Sartorius". While "Secret" takes place before the events in the Harry Potter books, "Promise" runs in parallel with "Order of the Phoenix" and continues beyond, describing some events from Lucius' perspective.
As always I am merely out to play and enjoy myself, and do not make any money from my efforts. All original characters belong to the immortal Ms Rowling. Jason Isaacs owns the visual, sensual, and generally thud-worthy appearance of Mr. Malfoy. I only own the Sartorius family and a few Durmstrang teachers and students.
As regards the idea behind the story, I am working under the premise that while Lucius is very adamant about the purity of blood ideology, he is rather conflicted about his situation as a Death Eater, and I want to explore what will happen after his arrest and punishment.
The story contains a few explicit scenes of a sexual nature, which I flatter myself are part of the plot and not gratuitous smut. In any case, you've been warned.
Also, unless you are a Death Eater in the employ of the Dark Lord, do not, under any circumstances, dabble in demon invocation. The process I'm describing in the story is pretty close to the real thing, and you don't want to do this without the proper training or a reliable exorcist nearby. As Lucius would say: "Do not try this at home, you miserable muggles!"
So, without further ado, practice the three Rs: Read, Revel, Review!
A Late Night Conversation"Master, go on, and I will follow thee. To the last gasp with truth and loyalty" (William Shakespeare. As You Like It: II, iii)
Lucius Malfoy stretched restlessly on the luxurious thick fur rug beneath him. To his left a crackling fire sent waves of heat down his naked flank. He reached over, took a sip of blood-red wine from a silver goblet by his side and looked up where heavy carved oak columns supported the beams of a vaulted roof. Interlacing dragons painted in red and gold chased each other along the heavily tooled wood. Between the columns ornate tapestries embroidered with knotwork and flames moved lazily in the raising heat, while outside a wild spring storm howled around the walls and caused the ancient wooden structure of the hall to creak ominously on occasion.
At the far end of the room, hidden from view by a screen two women talked in quiet voices in Icelandic. He tuned out the conversation and listened to the wind. The weather was only marginally worse than his mood. All week he had looked forward to his visit to Durmstrang. For several years now the Defense against the Dark Arts teacher had been his mistress, and he had become accustomed to spending many of his weekends at the House of Fire, one of the four school halls, in her chambers and in her company.
He had first met Eleanor Sartorius the year before Draco had begun to attend school. She had held a position as the teacher for muggle studies at Hogwarts, and he had been on the board of governors. She was the granddaughter of Falco Sartorius, one of the most famous pureblood dark wizards in Germany. And despite the fact that the Sartorius and the Malfoys did not have a very amicable history – his father had killed her uncle at the behest of Lord Voldemort, they had been drawn together.
They had barely had time to get to know each other when they found themselves involved on opposing sides in a plot to restore the Dark Lord to his former power. Amazingly enough they had both chosen a course of action that put them at odds with the people who thought they could lay claim to their allegiance: Dumbledore for her and George Lepidus, the leader of the Death Eaters, for him. Instead they had teamed up and fought together for their own ends, saving each others' lives a few times over in the process.
After that Eleanor had kept his interest. Her parents had exiled themselves to London to flee Voldemort's wrath when she had been a little girl, and had for the most part brought her up as a muggle. Their only acknowledgement of her abilities had been her schooling at Durmstrang.
Despite what Lucius considered a seriously underprivileged childhood, she had considerable magical talent, and the wit, guts and intelligence to match. While she did not share his sympathies for the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters, her sense of honor allowed her to respect his commitments. In the meantime they connected very well in other areas, such as alchemy and potions-making, magical books, research into the dark arts; and, of course, as was appropriate for a mistress, copious and abandoned sex.
Just not tonight... He swallowed down the rest of the wine grimacing in disgust. He might as well get drunk, as he could not screw up his performance any worse. It hadn't been her fault, either. He had apparated in a towering rage and had simply not been able to concentrate. She had finally offered him a massage on the large bear rug in front of the fire place in order to calm him down. Just as he had started to relax and enjoy himself somewhat, someone had knocked on the door to her chambers. With an exasperated sigh she had got off him, grabbed her dressing gown and let her visitor in. Now she was talking to the woman behind the screen in her study.
Lucius rolled his head from side to side willing the kinks out of his tense muscles and tried to forget the events of the last few days. Conditions of service to Lord Voldemort had reached an all-time low. Being a Death Eater these days bore close resemblance to being someone's house elf. For almost two years now all of the Death Eaters had been obsessing over that Potter brat, courtesy of the Dark Lord's fixation. Not that Lucius didn't feel that Harry Potter deserved everything that Voldemort might have in store for him.
He still hadn't forgiven the little pest the incident with his house-elf. But revenge was no fun when he was being sent half-cocked on fool's errands. He lacked vital information, because others, including Voldemort, hadn't done their homework. And then he was the one who was being blamed!
It had all started to go downhill when Voldemort had actually threatened him, the chief Death Eater, his most loyal and powerful servant, with the cruciatus last winter. Frustration didn't even begin to describe it. And now the strain had finally begun to mess up his love-life.
As he was thinking of getting up to refill his goblet he heard the conversation in the next room become more animated. It seemed the visitor finally got ready to leave. A few seconds later he could distinguish the creak of a heavy door. A metal latch fell into place, and as he lifted his head he saw Eleanor step back into her bedroom. She wore a deep green silk gown loosely belted at her narrow waist. Her flaming red hair cascaded down her back in a riot of lose curls that caught the fire light as she moved. Now she smiled at him and approached him with a seductive sway of her hips. Silk slid around her in rippling whispering folds as she sank down at his side.
He reached over and pulled on the sash of her gown which fell open to reveal the velvety golden skin of her breasts and stomach. She met his eyes and slid the rest of the fabric off her, exposing herself to him as she stretched out beside him. "That was the headmistress," she explained. "Seems we have a bit of an emergency with two students in the House of Fire. Someone has gotten someone else pregnant. The girl's parents are furious. As head of house I need to meet with everyone tomorrow."
She pushed her hair back. "Stupid kids. They are both seventeen and therefore of age, which means they can invoke confidentiality when they ask the school nurse for a potion. Which part of contraception don't they understand? Now we have a girl from the pureblood Karkaroff clan carrying the child of a muggleborn boy. This will get very, very ugly. In the worst case the Karkaroffs will try and kill the stupid idiot. You know how hung-up they are on purity of bloodlines. I think I'm rapidly getting into your frame of mind, Lucius." She picked up the silver goblet, only to set it back with a sigh when she found it empty. "So tell me, how was you week, darling?"
He flinched at the endearment, knowing that she meant to tease him. Then he rolled over on his side, propped himself up on his arms and faced her. For a brief moment he watched as her eyes traveled along his body taking in the sight of him and her pupils dilated. He loved the way she still showed him in those small gestures how much he excited her. Then his dark mood returned. "I should not tell you this," he stated gruffly.
She just smiled. "Come on, now, you've been pretty tense for most of the time over the past few months. And now there is obviously nothing much else on your mind tonight. I didn't want to pry before but now you might as well make me an accomplice in misery."
She stretched out a hand and languidly traced the outline of his collar bones pushing his pale blonde hair off his shoulders. He sighed and captured her fingers in his hand. "Well you are not buying into the Ministry propaganda that You-Know-Who is dead, are you?"
She shook her head. "Of course not. Everyone here knows what happened to headmaster Karkaroff last year. No one can activate the dark mark save Voldemort. I have seriously considered stopping my delivery of the Daily Prophet, because of the drivel they produce. The Icelandic Hugtakasafn reports more and better than what comes out of London right now." "Well," admitted Lucius, "Part of that has to do with our – influence – on Minister Fudge."
He paused, then took the plunge. "It is getting ridiculous!" he bit out sharply. "Before the Dark Lord's demise we worked towards the domination of the wizarding world by the pureblood houses. We had a strategy for power and the subjugation of muggles and mudbloods. Rituals of might were performed, wizards researched dark magic, and we had a plan. Now, it's all about Potter! Harry – bloody! – Potter!"
He crushed her hand in his grip and she winced. "Sorry," he released her and instead balled a fist, slamming it into the soft, yielding fur beneath him. "For almost two years now we have been wasting time, effort and talent on chasing down and eliminating one stupid little scrawny orphan with a funny scar on his forehead."
He took a deep breath. There, he had finally admitted to it. If anyone heard him there would be hell to pay. Voldemort would most likely kill him for this act of rebellion and treason. Still as he had now begun breaking the ground on his grave, he decided to continue digging.
Eleanor looked at him with a raised eyebrow and he resumed his rant with full vigor. "Last year we did nothing but scheme and conspire to get Potter out of the protection of Hogwarts and to a place where Voldemort could get at him. There was an elaborate plot to change out a teacher, enchant a portkey and even have Potter win the rigged triwizard tournament. It was simply bizarre! In the end we got it done. Potter had apparated in the graveyard where we were waiting for him – and he got away. Something about his wand interacting with the one of the Dark Lord. Voldemort couldn't even finish the job. All our work for nothing!
This year it's even worse. Some time ago a prophecy was made about the boy and the Dark Lord. Now Voldemort wants it. Of course they keep it at the Department of Mysteries with all the other prophecies, and you can't just waltz into the Ministry and pick it up. It's high security."
He sighed, raked his hand through his hair. "Naturally as it was Ministry stuff, I got picked to be the one in charge. So mind this, now we are not even attempting to eliminate Potter any more, we are just after a lousy prophecy, since last bloody summer!
I can pretty much come and go as I please at the Ministry. Fudge is in my pocket thrice over. So it didn't seem much of a problem. I got a hold of Bode, an Unspeakable, who had clearance and put an imperius on him to make him go and fetch the receptacle."
Malfoy stopped himself. He had just confessed to casting an unforgivable, a crime that carried a life-sentence in Azkaban. In all the years he had known Eleanor, he had never slipped up on his activities like that. He eyed her cautiously, but she merely stretched and looked at him expectantly.
"You seem pretty unimpressed," he said. His lover shrugged her shoulders. "Come on, Lucius, I have always known you aren't a choir boy. You are a Death Eater, murderer, adulterer and dark wizard, and I'm just warming up here. What's a little imperius among friends, eh?"
He lifted an eyebrow and gave a dry laugh. She seemed to take this much better than he had expected. "Well, it turned out that only those about whom a prophecy has been made can actually collect it. All other attempts are magically blocked and will incapacitate whoever attempts it. How was I supposed to know? So when I made Bode pick up the prophecy sphere, he ended up in St. Mungos. Lucky for us he couldn't speak and tell the aurors what put him in his condition. Of course we didn't get the prophecy either. You can imagine the Dark Lord's mood when I had to tell him."
The wizard shuddered at the memory. Eleanor gave him a sympathetic grimace. "Well, fortunately I can't as I haven't had the pleasure of meeting him yet, but I can imagine that it was unpleasant." "He threatened me with the cruciatus," Lucius answered bitterly. "Me! Right before the eyes and ears of everyone else!" "What happened then?" she asked. "Well, they started to work on Bode at the hospital, so I had to go in and finish the job. I bribed a nurse and sent him a poisonous plant for a present, which killed him."
Eleanor sighed. She was not exactly thrilled with what she had heard. When she had called her lover a murderer before, she had only affirmed to herself what she had known for a long time. But to hear him describe a recent example of his criminal behavior still felt disturbing. She thought she would really never get used to his dark side.
In moments when she faced up to the truth she was shamefully aware that she had elected to wear blinkers most of the time as far as he was concerned. She had become a complete addict to his physical attentions, and as he behaved himself as a complete gentleman in her presence, she found it easy to block everything else from her consciousness. He was a textbook case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and she was a certifiable partial amnesiac. 'Perfect match,' she chided herself.
Lucius watched the woman stretched out by his side intently. Her green eyes had darkened as she seemed to drift off into her own thoughts. He could tell that his description of his recent activities had upset her, and he upbraided himself. Normally he kept her shielded from his life as a Death Eater, but over the last few days, his frustrations had mounted to a just unbearable degree.
And who else could he talk to if not her? He did not trust any of the other followers of Voldemort. They would report the slightest sign of weakness on his part to their master and would gleefully tear him down.
His wife and son perhaps? Narcissa would throw a fit at the risks to which he exposed the fortunes and future of the family. Unlike her sister Bellatrix, she contented herself with her respectable position in wizarding society. Draco on the other hand would approve, but then take everything he was told directly to Potter by mouthing off and bragging about it at school. Dumb! Had to be the Black blood. They had already spawned two idiots in his generation, Sirius and Andromeda. And Narcissa wasn't exactly the brainy type either. It was probably hereditary…
His colleagues at the ministry? He could see it now: 'Morning Arthur. How's the wife? How are the little Weasleys, all 27 of them? Fine? Splendid! Oh myself, yes, I am fabulous, my dear Arthur. Being a Death Eater is so much fun these days. Oh, surprised? Sorry, didn't mean to shock you there. Yes, been at it for years. Just love the costume, hood and mask. Tell you, absolute winner with the ladies. And muggles? They see you and just piss on themselves. Hilarious! You should try it. It's a riot. Just come on over to the next meeting. Old Voldie normally springs for the biscuits and tea.'
He shook himself and turned back to Eleanor, who was now regarding him gravely. He reached out and ran his hand over her hips. "I recognize the look," he said calmly. "But believe me: I'm not happy about what I had to do, either. Bode was a decent enough fellow. Knew his stuff, knew when he was out of his depth, too. Actually came from a quite respectable family. And what did he have to die for? This stupid prophecy about the damn boy who lived. Who gives a newt's eye? I'm as ready to curse or kill someone as the next dark wizard, but this is pointless, gratuitous violence. At least you should have the courtesy to the victim to have their death serve a purpose, especially when they are pretty much pureblood.
In the meantime this squandering of resources is disgraceful. And of course after Bode we haven't been doing much of anything anyway. Now Voldemort is trying his hand at legilimency. He's trying to get into Potter's head to make him go to the Ministry to pick up the prophecy himself. So far it hasn't worked very well. Every Death Eater meeting is worse than the last, because he takes his frustration out on us.
Yesterday was the low point when he actually cursed Avery for not kneeling before him fast enough. And I keep wondering why he won't try to make Potter do something else, like go to some deserted location where he can be killed. Or even better, make him jump off some rampart at Hogwarts and get it over with. If you want my opinion, Voldemort has lost his marbles. Then again, what do you expect when you reconstruct your physical form using worthless scum like Peter Pettigrew for body parts?"
She closed her eyes for a moment as his thumb was now making slow languorous circles on the sensitive skin just below her hip bone. "You know, that is just warped," she murmured, "But if you keep doing this, I may forgive you almost anything." Lucius focused back on her. "This?" he asked with a speculative twitch of his lips, replacing his thumb with his nails, making her shudder and jump as he raked them lightly over her skin. "Ummnn," she purred. "This is even better. You were saying?"
He felt sparks jump from her skin to his fingertips, and finally something connected in his brain, hand and groin and he moved in on her. "I wasn't saying anything," he growled as he pushed her back into the soft fur and stroked his hands up her arms, gripping her wrists and spreading her out on her back. She gasped in surprise at his sudden shift from light teasing strokes to this more forceful possession of her body. He lifted her arms above her body pinning her down and spreadeagling her, and she arched her hips towards him in anticipation. "Seems getting it all off your chest was just the ticket," she breathed.
He gave her a smirk. "I wasn't thinking 'off your chest,' my dear. I was thinking 'on your chest,'" he quipped as he covered her body with his. His pale blond hair fell forward to surround her face and slipped over her shoulders as he moved down to kiss and lightly bite her nipples.