Tainted Love
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and Warner Bros. own all recognisable characters and storylines.
Tainted Love
Chapter Two: Miss Varvara
The heavy oak door swung open, seemingly of its own accord, and Lucius Malfoy stepped inside his house. He took off his cloak and handed it to a brass coat-stand, which moved accommodatingly to take it from him. He was also carrying a black cane, but this he kept with him as he made his way promptly to his library. The door to this room also appeared to open without human intervention.
Lucius strolled in and took a seat in a smart, leather chair, which was placed behind a desk that was piled high with papers. He drew his ebony wand from his cane, like a sword from its sheath, and proceeded to point it in the direction of the liberally placed candles, thus illuminating the moderately sized room. A vaguely puzzled frown rested on his striking face as his wintry blue eyes scanned the lit room quickly, but this look soon turned from confusion to anger.
Someone had been rummaging around his private library!
He flung back his chair, got to his feet and stormed back out into the passage. As it happened there was someone already in the corridor.
"Ah, Draco," drawled Lucius, as he reigned in his temper. His eyes moved from his son to the two bulky boys who were loitering behind him. "Tell me, have you been in my library today?"
"No, father," replied Draco quickly; he could sense the fury beneath his father's cool façade. "We haven't been in the house all day." The other two boys, known simply as Crabbe and Goyle, nodded dimly.
"Hmm," mused Lucius cynically. "Where's your mother? She's not still down by that accursed river is she?"
"No, she's not," countered a new voice calmly. "Is something wrong, Lucius?" Narcissa had entered the house silently, and for few moments she had observed the scene unnoticed. Her husband turned to her, his jaw clenched.
"I don't suppose you know who's been in there?" he demanded harshly, indicating to his private chamber.
"Yes."
"I beg your pardon?" Lucius snarled. Draco looked nervously from one of his parents to the other.
"Draco, did you want something?" asked Narcissa shrewdly, she spoke to her son but didn't take her eyes off her husband.
"Ye- no. No," replied Draco, wisely taking this opportunity to slink away with his friends.
"I had a visit today-" Narcissa began, once the immense figures of Crabbe and Goyle had disappeared out of view.
"I have very little interest in your social calendar," growled Lucius, and after this savage interruption he thundered back into the library.
"-from Arthur Weasley!" shot Narcissa angrily as she followed him into the room without invitation.
"What?" Lucius roared, spinning around so sharply that Narcissa found she was pinned between her husband and the closed library door.
"Don't yell at me!" argued Narcissa furiously. "He didn't find anything, luckily! Besides, if you didn't provoke him at every opportunity-" she suddenly trailed off, running out of steam, because for some bizarre reason Lucius had moved back, released her from his snare and looked amused. "What is it?" Narcissa questioned, faltering slightly.
"He found nothing you say?" She nodded mutely. "Good," he mused with satisfaction. "Though it is a pity I wasn't here to witness his failure."
"Indeed," Narcissa replied dryly. "Still, you're not going to let him get away with this are you, Lucius?"
"Oh I shouldn't think so," he reflected deviously. Narcissa nodded and smiled contentedly, she turned to leave, but then hesitated uncertainly. Lucius noticed this uncharacteristic action. "What's wrong, Narcissa?" he demanded.
"Wrong?" she repeated uneasily as she reached for the door handle.
"Why were you down by the river?" he pressed astutely.
"No reason. It's nothing really, just a feeling that's all," she muttered quickly.
"Meaning?" Lucius asked.
"Something is coming. Some change."
"What kind of change?"
"I cannot tell, it's too far off," she murmured slipping out of the library.
Lucius stared at the door for a moment; then he sat down and let one elbow rest on the table while he leant his chin on his clenched hand. Narcissa was very much like a cat that could sense a coming storm. Only the storms she sensed were sadly not meteorological. Her intuition had saved his life once, and so Lucius was extremely reluctant to ignore her inklings.
It had taken him years to learn all that there was to know about his wife, and he still wasn't sure that he knew everything. He shook his head in remembrance, the very first thing that he'd been forced to uncover had been her name, but that wasn't exactly true; it hadn't been something he'd actively tried to discover…
Lucius had been in his early twenties, and just starting to climb the ladder at the Ministry of Magic. He had been working for Augustus Rookwood, in the Department of Mysteries, when he'd first discovered the identity of his future wife.
It had been the middle of April when Barty Crouch had burst into the Department of Mysteries office looking for Rookwood; Lucius remembered the month because the whole Ministry had been in chaos for weeks, trying to sort out an unusually large number of anti-Muggle April Fools pranks.
"Well Malfoy, where is he?" Crouch snapped impatiently. Lucius slowly put the finishing touches to a report that he was writing before looking up from his desk.
"Who, Mr Crouch?" he asked lazily.
"Who do you think? Rookwood of course!"
"I've no idea, sir. He hasn't been in all day."
"What?! What kind of Department is he running here?!" Crouch exclaimed furiously. Lucius simply cocked one uninterested eyebrow. "Well I'll have to go and find him myself," muttered Crouch angrily. "You, Malfoy, I need this delivered immediately," he continued as he produced a large package from thin air and plopped it on the desk in front of Lucius, who looked at it disgust.
"What do you want me to do with it?" he asked scornfully.
"Take it to Hogsmeade and deliver it to my son, in person."
Lucius was still recalling this heated conversation some time later as he sat in the Three Broomsticks waiting for Crouch's odious little son to appear, wondering if he could possibly have gotten away with hexing Crouch at any point during the exchange. Probably not, but it was a pleasant enough way to while away the time nonetheless.
It was fairly quiet in the homely little pub; it was still early and the Hogwarts students hadn't yet arrived. Lucius' thoughts turned away from Crouch when his eyes came to rest on a league table that was pinned on the wall behind the bar and written in the Hogwarts colours. At the top, in neat script, was written 'The Hogwarts Decaduel'. Lucius stood up and moved closer to get a better look. The Decaduel took place every ten years and was only open to pupils in their final year at Hogwarts. He had forgotten that it was due to be played. Most of the little boxes were already filled in with pupils' names, from the preliminary rounds right up to the semi-finals. One pupil from each House was represented in the last four. He noticed that the name 'Miss Varvara' had been written in green inside the Slytherin box. Seeing where his attention laid, the pretty barmaid, who looked too young to be behind the bar, bustled over to him.
"Exciting isn't it?" she beamed. Lucius blinked frostily, but she seemed not to notice. "It's the first time we've ever had two girls in the semis!" she gushed. "I'd love for the Ravenclaw lass to win, but they say the Slytherin girl, Narcissa, stands a better chance."
"Really," remarked Lucius dryly. The barmaid nodded, unperturbed by his indifference.
"I doubt either of them will be able to beat Longbottom, the Gryffindor champion, but I suppose you never know," she sighed, while absently cleaning a tankard.
Lucius murmured uncommunicatively, and a moment later the doors of the Three Broomsticks opened and a whole horde of noisy Hogwarts students entered the pub. The barmaid let go of the tankard, but the cloth she'd been using to wipe it didn't stop cleaning. A young boy with straw-coloured hair and freckles walked straight up to the bar.
"Is my father here?" he asked.
"I haven't seen him, Barty," replied the barmaid kindly. Lucius' ears pricked, and he moved forward.
"You're Barty Crouch's son?" he drawled. The boy nodded nervously. "Then this must be yours." Lucius drew out his wand, gave it a sharp flick and produced the package Mr Crouch had given to him.
"Where's my father?"
Lucius shrugged his shoulders dispassionately.
"He obviously had something better to do with his time," he replied cruelly. The young Barty looked as though he was going to make some reply to this slur, but the doors of the Three Broomsticks opened again and drew his attention away. Lucius followed his gaze idly. A group of laughing girls wandered in, and to Lucius' surprise he recognised one of the party.
It had been about three months since their brief exchange, but he could still remember the nameless blonde who was dressed in Slytherin robes. Frowning he pulled his gaze away before she saw him, and turned to Crouch's son so that he might excuse himself. But young Barty was also staring at the pretty blonde.
"Hi, Narcissa," he gushed as she neared the bar. Lucius narrowed his eyes pensively, he watched, as the girl's own gaze finally focused on Barty. A look of fleeting dismay crossed her face when she saw who'd called her name, giggles and nudges from her friends seemed to surround her.
"Hello, Barty" she sighed, while forcing a smile, and then for the first time since entering the Three Broomsticks she saw Lucius Malfoy. He was looking between her and the Decaduel league table.
"Miss Varvara, I take it?" he asked smoothly.
"Hello again, Mr Malfoy," she breathed coyly, noticing as she did so that her friends' teasing laughter had been replaced by jealous glares. "Barty, I didn't think first years were allowed to visit Hogsmeade?" she suddenly said frowning. The young boy blushed and muttered something about his father before taking his parcel and slinking away to a corner of the pub.
"So you've made it to the Decaduel semi-finals," remarked Lucius slowly. Narcissa nodded cautiously.
"You should come and watch," she then added carefully.
"Perhaps," he replied casually. "Make it to the finals and I might consider it."
"Lucius?" Narcissa popped her head around the library door. "Are you joining us for dinner or not?" she asked impatiently. "I asked the maid to fetch you, but you know how reliable she is!"
"Mmm," Lucius murmured, but his manner was slightly distracted, he was also reluctant to enter into any conversation that might lead back to the loss of Dobby. "Tell me, do you remember young Barty Crouch?"
"Yes," replied Narcissa slowly, "of course." She stepped inside the room. "Why do you ask?"
"No particular reason. I just remembered something that's all," he replied vaguely. "Your families were fairly close. Do you know why his father met him in Hogsmeade so often?"
"It wasn't often, as far as I knew. His mother contrived the whole thing, apparently she didn't think that they spent enough time together," she paused and frowned. "It didn't help him very much in the end though, did it?"
Lucius snorted and stood up. He didn't care anything for the Crouch family, although Narcissa had taken him into her confidence and explained her relationship with the younger Barty Crouch years ago.
"He was in love with you, you know," he remarked matter-of-factly. "You're lucky I don't get jealous, your obvious regret at his death would anger most men."
"Lucius, I find the notion of you being jealous of a dead teenager laughable," drawled Narcissa scathingly. Lucius raised one shrewd eyebrow and walked vehemently towards his wife. He clamped one hand on her waist and pushed her back roughly against the door.
"And when has it ever been wise to laugh at me?" he breathed, his light eyes darkened.
Narcissa's own gaze flickered down to his mouth expectantly, her lips parted fractionally of their own accord just before his mouth claimed hers. It wasn't really a kiss; it was too heartless, too ruthless. She could feel her lips bruising under his even as the blood hummed through her veins making her dizzy. She couldn't fight what he made her feel. A guttural moan lodged itself in her throat just as he pulled back, a wicked smile rested on his face. He'd won.
"Shall we go to dinner then, dear?" he asked evenly.
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