"Unto the pure all things are pure: but unto them that are defiled and unbelieving is nothing pure; but even their mind and conscience is defiled" (Titus: ch. I, v. 15)
"You know," she said softly as she felt him stretch out behind her sleepily under the thick feather and fur comforters of her bed. "This will not end well." He shifted, apparently she had got his attention. "What do you mean?" She twisted around, facing him. The fire had burned down to the last glowing embers, and the cold from the outside began to seep into the vaulted room. She could scarce distinguish the features of his face. There lay barely a glint of fire-glow in his eyes and on his hair, and she was thankful as she found it easier to speak her thoughts into the darkness.
"You, Voldemort, the Death Eaters," she explained. "You have already lost your position at Hogwarts. You have lost a considerable amount of your reputation and a small fortune in bribes. With every attempt at leverage through blackmail the ranks of your enemies grow. How have the last 5 years increased your power? How have they brought you closer to your own goals?"
She laid her hand on his chest for emphasis and felt him shudder as she continued. "He will use you up, your money, your name, your honor, your family, maybe your life. And when you have nothing, when you are laid before him helpless, after you have given everything, he will grind your face in the dust under his foot and laugh." A long silence stretched between them after she had finished. Lucius seemed barely to be breathing.
Finally he stroked his hand over hers and spoke with a strange calm. "We have talked about this many times," he said. "And we never seem to be able to agree. Your family decides much of your direction in life for you, when you have the privilege of having ancestors worth mentioning. My father may have erred in many things, but I willingly followed him; and now it is a question of honor to continue down the path that my oaths have set me on.
I will do what I am sworn to do. And I am not yet despairing of victory. I still believe the great work can be accomplished. I still believe in the goals that we had when we began." And, with what she thought was tinted with stubborn desperation: "I have done too much, sacrificed too much, to give up now."
She lowered her head, touched her forehead to his chest and sighed. "You are right, we cannot agree," she admitted. "But you must know by now that I speak for no one else, that I don't follow an agenda when I seek to dissuade you. You must make a decision soon, don't you think? And right now listening to you, things seem to be going to hell in a handbasket. Draco is almost ready. Will you send him down the same path?"
Lucius pulled back. "Don't question me about my son," he said sharply. "You…" She interrupted him, harsher than she had intended. "Yes, I know, Lucius. I'm just the mistress. Sorry, I'm out of line." She thought she saw him shake his head in the half-light.
"Merlin, you and your temper, woman! No, that's not what I meant. Don't hold me hostage by appealing to my supposed fatherly obligations. I do not know what I will do about Draco yet. If I withhold him from service when the Dark Lord wants him, I doom us both, and probably Narcissa and the rest of the household as well. The next few months will either make or break us, I can feel it. I need to stick it out and try to maintain my status and my leverage and keep my options open. If I start to second-guess myself, I'm going to go under, don't you see that?"
Eleanor knew by know when she was pushing too hard. She ran a placating hand over his arm. "I understand, Lucius," she responded quietly. "I don't want you to follow my whims or get side-tracked by my hang-ups. I want you to follow your own will, to serve your own interest. Loyalty to a dubious cause is so unbecoming in a Slytherin, don't you think?"
He snorted at her last remark. "I may have my doubts and my frustrations, but I can assure you of one thing: I am not sticking with the Death Eaters out of some misguided Gryffindor nobility. If that's what's worrying you, let me tell you that I will always and foremost look out for myself and for my own."
She lay back down pillowing her face on her bent elbow. "If things get dangerous for you, I'd help you, you know that," she told him. "Just ask. I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe as long as it doesn't aid Voldemort. After all, Defense against the Dark Arts has to be good for something."
Just as she felt his arms move under the sheets to reach for her, she suddenly heard a sharp hiss and a suppressed moan from him. "Lumos," she called out in alarm, and as candles flared up around them, she saw him sitting upright in bed, clutching his left forearm to his chest.
He seemed to have his pain under control now, after the initial surprise had passed. She didn't even have to ask what had happened as he stretched out his hand toward her, exposing the soft, pale skin a few inches above his wrist that showed the dark mark of the Death Eaters outlined in charred black.
The hatred in her green eyes that stared back at him hit him like a physical force, but he knew it was not aimed at him. His arm was throbbing painfully, as if he had just been scorched by flame, but he knew the sensation well by now and could ignore it. He nodded once at her to let her know he understood, then wordlessly swung his legs over the side of the bed, walked over to the chair that held his carefully folded robes and began to dress while she watched him.
He barely felt the touch of fabric on his skin as he concentrated on blocking out the burning of the mark. Everything was really governed by pain. It was the true currency of this world, not money, not status. When it came down to it people were helpless before it, would do anything to avoid it, betray loved ones, surrender their possessions, give up their very souls. He had seen it. He had even wielded that kind of power on the occasions when service to the Dark Lord necessitated torture. He knew the heady sense of mastery it gave, and had seen some of his associates like Walden and Bellatrix, perhaps even Voldemort himself grow addicted to it.
But he knew better, because he had also been subjected to it often enough to be aware that what was gained could easily be taken away, that the power of the torturer was ultimately hollow. No, in the face of pain the only true mastery that could be established was to overcome it: to feel it, to acknowledge it, and then to move on, to refuse to become its slave.
If he was truly grateful for anything to his father, it would be that lesson, taught through pain over the years of his childhood and adolescence: love nothing, depend on nothing, feel nothing. This steeling of his innermost core was worth more than all the wealth, pure blood and status of the Malfoys that had become his heritage. If he had one regret it was this: that he would not leave Draco as strong as his own father had left him. He could never determine to himself if this came from loving his son too much, or not enough.
He hoped he would be strong enough this time. He was sure that no one could use his emotions or his possessions as the ultimate leverage against him. They could destroy what he had and what he loved and he would persist. With regards to physical pain, Lucius had few illusions. He knew from firsthand experience what it did to the muggles and mudbloods who had he misfortune to cross him and his associates. Anyone could be broken, anyone would break eventually. It was just a question of knowledge of the human mind and body, and Voldemort was a supremely skilled master.
He shrugged into his fur-lined cloak and closed the silver serpent clasps that held the heavy fabric in place. Then he picked up his cane, bridged the distance to the bed with a few quick steps and bent down to kiss his lover. Strange name, he thought briefly, for someone whom he had never told he loved and who had never told him either.
Avoidance of pain, again, for both of them, for different reasons. It was such a delicate and complicated dance. "Take care of yourself, Lucius," she said quietly. He stroked her upturned face that spoke clearly of her worries. "I'll come back if I can, or I'll get word to you later." He forced a smile. "Don't wait up. I mean it!"
She watched him as he turned aside and touched the broad gold signet ring of the Sartorius that she had given him for his first birthday together. The portkey worked and with a soft popping noise the familiar black-robed figure disappeared. She fell back into the pillows with a groan and spoke a spell to douse the candles. The storm shook the hall with renewed vigor as she turned on her side and tried to fall asleep.
Lucius did not return that night, nor for the rest of the weekend, and Eleanor Sartorius was not surprised. She had hardly expected him back. At least he had sent word eventually that everything was going according to plan and that she needn't worry. He had also invited himself back for the following weekend with a few wry comments on how he hoped to be able to improve on his last visit.
Friday afternoon turned out to be as blustery and rainy as the previous days. Eleanor pulled her heavy cloak around her and spoke a repelling spell against the water as she prepared to make her way from the main dining hall over to the House of Fire. Professor Daniel Stolcius, the portly and balding alchemy master accompanied her, huffing at the speed with which she tried to get back under a roof. Finally she stood under the wood porch of the broad squat quadrangle of her house shaking out her robes and smoothing her hair down. "So what is it going to be then?" he asked petulantly, catching his breath.
"Mr. and Mrs. Karkaroff demand that an abortificant be administered, while Irina wants to keep her child, and her boy-friend has offered to be handfasted to her and assume responsibility. I've got everything brewed up, as the Karkaroffs wished. What are we going to do?" She sighed, making her way through the dark entry hall and heading towards the common room.
"We can't make her terminate her pregnancy, and neither can her parents, no matter how much they dislike the lineage of the father. She is of age, and so is he. They can throw her out and disinherit her, but they can't force her hand in this matter. My position as head of house is to respect and protect both students' wishes. If the worst happens, the house will offer them sanctuary. They still have an entire year to study before they can sit their NEWTs. For that time they will be safe here."
She opened the door to the common room where quite a few students were already busy working on assignments or talking to pass some time after lunch and before quiddich practice started. Eleanor walked over to a slim, pale-looking girl with raven-black hair sitting next to a freckled red-headed boy, who had one arm laid protectively around her. When the two young people saw the head of house and the alchemy master come towards them, both stared back in defiance.
Eleanor turned back to her companion: "Professor Stolcius, would you be so kind and round up the house prefect and the head boy and head girl and take them to my office. I will be there in a few moments." She now looked at her students. "We won't do it," the girl rushed in. Her companion looked at her and nodded. The head of house lifted a hand. "We aren't even debating that. Ease off, will you? I'm not the long arm of your family, Irina. Now if you and Lars would come with me, please. We still have a few things to discuss."
She turned without looking back and headed towards her chambers with the two young people in tow. In her office Professor Stolcius and three other students were already waiting. Eleanor invited everyone to sit and asked a house elf to build a fire and bring some butter beer. Everyone's nerves seemed so frayed that a bit of warmth and a drink would probably have a calming effect. Eventually they had all settled in and she opened the conversation going over the details once more for the benefit of the prefect and student heads of house, even though she was sure that the rumor mill had them even better informed than she was.
"So we have the following situation on our hands: The Karkaroff clan demands that the pregnancy is stopped, while Irina and Lars wish to become parents to this child," she summed up. "I have talked with the headmistress, and while it is clear that the Karkaroffs will bring pressure to bear on the school, we have to respect the wishes of a wizard and witch who are of age. As long as you continue your studies here we will house you and care for you and protect you. However, the Karkaroffs have made quite a name for themselves as dark wizards and some family members have displayed a certain degree of – ruthlessness over the years. I am convinced they will not let this matter rest so easily. Therefore I have called you," she turned to the prefect.
"Pjotr, you will need to organize additional protection. Consider it part of your Defense against the Dark Arts training. Tonight we'll post teachers as guards, but by tomorrow evening I would like to have a plan from you, how you intend to counter any remote or direct magical attacks. We will discuss it and I will make any additional recommendations. You will then put this plan into effect. You can draw on students who you feel have the necessary training to be useful to you. Again I would like to hear and review your ideas. The head boy and head girl will help you."
She dismissed the three students and then turned once again to the couple. "Lars, do your folks know, yet?" The boy nodded. "I told them. They're not thrilled, but we'll cope. If Irina loses her home, my family will take her in. We are eight at home, four of us are wizarding, the rest are muggles. Dad says it won't make much of a difference to have two more."
Eleanor nodded. "Then get organized on the handfasting. Let me know if you need any help. We can perform the ceremony here at school if you prefer that to doing it at your house. Irina, go see the school nurse and set up a schedule with her. We may want to involve the wizarding hospital in Reykjavik at some point as well. Professor Stolcius, I would ask you to bottle that abortificant for now and see if the school nurse needs any other potions. I don't think she keeps philters against morning sickness around as a matter of routine. And please find out if we need to stock up on contraceptive tonics. Some people seem to have missed out on that recently…"
She addressed the students one more time. "Don't get me wrong. What you did was thoughtless and stupid and completely unnecessary. We do not frown on sexual relations here at school, but we expect that people act responsibly. I do not wish this to become a precedent. This is an institution of study and learning, not a nursery. So if you start feeling smug and complacent at some point, don't. I will watch your school performance closely, and I will not tolerate your marks to slip. Is that understood?"
The two young people nodded. "Well, then get out of here, and keep your wits about you. Irina, if you get any indication that your family is planning an attack, I want you to contact me immediately, no matter what the time."
Finally everyone had left the office. Eleanor drank down the rest of her butter beer and grimaced. What a mess. She would have much rather spoken more kindly to the two youngsters, but it would be hard enough already as it was. She hardly could afford getting maudlin over the whole affair in public. Time to head back to the main house and make her report to the headmistress. She pulled down her cloak from the wall and muffled up.