Cho's Chic
Chapter 11
Lucius was relaxing in his Malfoy Manor study when he suddenly felt the old familiar stabbing pain in his forearm. He rolled back his left sleeve, and looked at the Dark Mark: the skull with a snake emerging from its mouth looked darker than normal, and throbbed insistently. He had to obey the call.
He apparated at a location known only to a select few of the most faithful Death Eaters. Voldemort's continued existence was a secret: the whole wizarding world thought he was dead. Any Death Eater suspected of not being trustworthy, for many had turned traitor to save their own skins, had not been informed that it was not the Dark Lord who had died.
Voldemort was however barely alive. His still feeble body, which had taken many years to become solidly corporeal again, had begun once more to lose all its recently acquired strength. With the power he yet retained, he had summoned that most faithful servant of all, Wormtail. Peter Pettigrew became, to his equal gratification and horror, a host for Lord Voldemort in the manner of Quirrell before him.
So it was that Lucius Malfoy, his steel grey eyes peering through the slits in his Death Eater mask, came face to face, or indeed face to back of head, with Lord Voldemort. His already cruel and twisted features sat, horrifically distorted, on the back of Wormtail's now grossly deformed head. Lucius was in general immune to any sight, however shocking, but even he felt a shudder of revulsion at what Voldemort had become. He bowed low before the Dark Lord, and waited, trying to avoid looking at the nauseating sight before him. The disfigured face regarded him, and eventually spoke in high, cruel tones, but laboured and breathless: "Lucius Malfoy. You have come as called. Do you have good news for me?"
"Yes, Lord. I am arranging matters as we discussed."
"Splendid. When can I expect all to be prepared?"
"It will be some time. I ask my Lord to be patient."
"I cannot be patient. Time is of the essence. I am weakening daily."
"I cannot proceed faster. Secrecy is also of the essence. You know there is only one source. I cannot let anyone suspect. Lord, I am working as speedily as caution will allow."
"Malfoy, this feeble body will not last much longer. This task is a test of your loyalty to me. I insist that my place be made ready. Or do you wish your Lord to die?" The voice rose, becoming simultaneously more menacing and more frantic. "Lucius Malfoy, are you true to me? Or do you hope that if you delay, I will become too weak to protest? Do you secretly hope that my downfall is for good?"
Lucius bowed as low as he could. For none other would Malfoy prostrate himself so. "My Lord, I am indeed your faithful servant," he said, "I assure you I am working as fast as I may. I will try to do better."
He looked up. Peter had turned round. Lucius noted that Wormtail's face looked hardly any healthier than Voldemort's, and Peter's body was also shrunken and wizened. Time was indeed of the essence.
Harry Potter, waiting impatiently in Diagon Alley, entered Cho's Chic as soon as he saw the sign change to "Open". Alan, who had just unlocked the front door, was surprised. "Hello, Harry, you're bright and early today. What can I do for you?"
"Where's Cho?" asked Harry shortly, not bothering with any pleasantries. Alan raised his beautifully arched eyebrows, and replied, "She's still in the flat, Harry. She's a bit late today. Although usually we don't get people as early as this anyway, so normally it wouldn't matter. If you'd like to sit down, she won't be long. Can I get you some tisane while you're waiting?"
"I'll just go up and see her," said Harry, "It's personal anyway," and he began to walk towards the stairs. Alan moved over to block his way.
"The flat is private, Harry," he said firmly. "Nobody goes up without an invitation."
"Not even you?" sneered Harry. Alan was taken aback by Harry's abruptness and seeming determination. He continued to try to stop Harry from reaching the steps, but Harry pressed on stubbornly, glaring at him. Eventually, as the alternative was physical restraint, Alan was forced to let Harry pass, and anxiously watched him mount the stairs.
Harry walked into Cho's living room just as Lucius Malfoy entered the same room from Cho's bedroom. It was obvious that he was dressing himself, as he was tucking a half buttoned shirt into skin tight Regency-style breeches. The bright green eyes looked into the cold grey eyes, each pair glittering with hatred. As usual, Lucius was the first to recover his composure. Ostentatiously buttoning the fall-front of his breeches, and stroking his groin as he smoothed the doeskin, Lucius drawled, "Ah, Patronus Potter. It seems we are destined to meet in the most unlikely places. I'm sure Cho will be delighted to see you - when she's finished dressing. When I last looked, she was still rather déshabillé. Do have a seat. I think you may have to be patient."
Harry stood and stared at Lucius Malfoy's self-satisfied handsome face with utter loathing. He did not have Malfoy's subtle way with words, and not only hated him, but the way he always managed to sail through all their confrontations with a few well chosen belittling phrases. He hated Malfoy's connections, and the way he had managed to spend the least amount of time in Azkaban of any Death Eater, even though he was indubitably one of the most guilty: money and connections had always been the key to achieving his aims. Meanwhile, Lucius ignored Harry, as he buttoned up his shirt, and collected the rest of his clothes, that appeared to have been scattered randomly around the living room. There was no more blatant advertisement for the fact that Lucius Malfoy had stayed the night with Cho than his seeking out these garments discarded while his attention was elsewhere. Finally, Malfoy finished dressing. Clicking his booted heels together, he gave Harry an ironic bow, and tossing his golden hair, he disapparated with a final sneer.
Feeling suddenly weak at the confirmation of all his suspicions, Harry sat down on the edge of one of the armchairs, and waited. It was not long before Cho came out of the bedroom, dressed for work. She did not look surprised to see him: she must have heard the exchange between Harry and Lucius. In fact, Cho looked resigned to having an unpleasant conversation with Harry. "Hello, Harry," she said cautiously, "What are you doing up here?" She flinched at the expression on Harry's face. Harry had retained a soft spot for Cho even though their relationship had never progressed beyond a disastrous Valentine's Day date while they were both at school. Now he was looking at her as if he had never seen her before. He dug into his pocket, and threw Draco's photos onto the coffee table.
"I came because of these," Harry said coldly. "Before I arrived, it was just these. I didn't know if that was the only time you'd shagged Lucius Malfoy. Now I know it wasn't." He glared at her.
"I don't understand, Harry," said Cho, "What have you come for? Are you trying to tell me to stop seeing Lucius?"
"Hermione tells me you're going out with Bill Weasley. Are you?"
"Yes, we've been out a few times. Excuse me, but what business is it of yours?"
"None at all, I suppose," replied Harry, "Except for one thing. The Weasleys are the closest thing I have to a family in the wizarding world, since Sirius died. I care about them. I'd just like to ask you one thing: does Bill know you're shagging Malfoy?"
Cho avoided Harry's keen green eyes. "Does he?" demanded Harry. Cho hung her head, and shook it slightly. "Are you going to tell him?" she asked quietly.
"No. You are. Or rather, you're going to have to choose, Cho. Finish with Malfoy, and I'll try and forget it ever happened, and I won't tell anyone. Or you can stop seeing Bill. I know which I'd prefer."
"You want me to finish with Lucius," Cho said matter-of-factly.
"No." Cho's eyes opened wide with surprise. Harry said quietly and deliberately, "You disgust me Cho. I can't imagine what could make you screw Lucius Malfoy. He's the worst of the Death Eaters. They killed Cedric. Don't you ever think about him when Malfoy's groping you? Well, for the record, I'd rather you finished with Bill. I can't stand the idea of him touching someone like you. He deserves better. You're nothing more than a Death Eater's whore.
"I'll give you two weeks. Then if I find out you're still seeing both of them, I will tell Bill. But I won't show him the photos, you can keep them. I wonder how many more sets there are? Maybe Draco will send some to Bill anyway? Would you want to risk that? So if you choose Bill, you'll always have that chance hanging over you."
Harry stood up, just as Alan appeared through the door. "I'm finished here," said Harry, "For good!" he added as he descended the stairs . They heard the bell as he left the shop. Alan looked at Cho, standing dejectedly with tears starting in her eyes, and his keen glance took in the photos on the table. He crossed to Cho's side, and hugged her to him, stroking her dark head. He didn't ask, he didn't judge. Keeping his private opinions to himself, Alan let Cho cry on his slender shoulder, wondering not for the first time if she realised what she had got herself into.
Lucius was in Cho's Chic discussing his choice of waistcoat, for he had meant what he said about coveting the one Cho had worn the day they had used the snooker table for purposes other than that for which it was designed. The two of them were in Cho's workroom, surrounded by garments in various stages of completion. Cho suggested that if he was going to play snooker a lot, "And I mean actually play, not just use the game as an excuse for other activities," he would perhaps need new trousers in which it was easier to bend and stretch. "There are a lot of new fabrics that allow for stretching, but retain their shape for normal use." Praising her salesmanship once more, Lucius agreed easily to the suggestion, but refused to be diverted from firstly choosing a waistcoat.
"What kind of design would you like on the back?" she asked him. "You can have anything you like. I'll sketch it out for you." Cho, seated on a tall stool at a high wooden desk with a sloping front, opened a roll of parchment, and waited, quill poised.
Lucius, standing beside her, raised an eyebrow at her, and said, "What do you suggest? You have excellent taste."
"Well, a snake? I notice you like snakes. We could do a cobra. It seems rather appropriate somehow. I suggest shades of blue and green, with some yellow."
"So, you think I'm a cobra, do you?" Lucius said to her sardonically. "You may be right." He nipped her ear gently with his teeth, and hissed at her under his breath. Trying hard to keep her mind on the task in hand, Cho began to sketch out a pattern. She drew a cobra, coiled loosely, with its head upright and slightly drawn back, hood flaring, ready to strike with large fangs projecting forwards. She then drew a selection of tropical plants surrounding the snake, with one or two exotic blooms. Then in tiny script, she added the names of the colours for the embroiderer. She then turned to Lucius to see his reaction.
As Cho laid down her quill, Lucius slid his arms around her, and looked at the sketch over her shoulder, his hair tickling her ears. He was impressed, and said so. "Is that how you see me?" he asked her. His voice was neutral, but he waited for her reply. She leant back to look at him upside down, Lucius supporting her weight.
"Beautiful but deadly," she said soberly. "Yes, I think that's you." Suddenly, she righted herself, and turned round on her seat to face him. She looked deep into his grey eyes, now soft and twinkling with amusement, and reflected how easily they could harden and stare at her as if she were a stranger. She spoke quietly, trying to keep her eyes on his face as she said the dread words: "Lucius, I know this won't last forever. I know one day you'll get tired of me. Please promise me one thing. Don't ever leave me in limbo, not knowing whether or not you'll call again one day. When you decide it's over, please just tell me." Her voice had sunk to a dry croak, and she had successfully fought back the tears: she would not cry in front of Lucius.
He wrapped her in his arms, and the pain of preventing herself from crying made her gasp to force breath into her aching chest. Lucius stroked her hair, kissed her forehead, and leaned back to look at her seriously. "I promise," he said simply. Then he kissed her ear, and murmured, "But for now, Cho, I still want you very much." He could have told her that some of his paramours had been just that for many years - solely on his terms naturally - but Lucius retained enough discretion not to discuss one mistress in front of another, especially if both were still in favour. He lifted her chin, and kissed her deeply, working hard at making her forget her worries with dextrous hands and knowing tongue.
When he broke away from her, standing with his arms loosely around her, he looked deep into Cho's dark brown eyes with his clear grey ones, and said, "Would you like to spend the weekend with me at Glen Moy Castle? I need to go there soon. My wife won't be going, she's only interested in the socialising side of Highland life, she'd be bored stiff. Anyway, she's lured her Highland laddie to wait on her in Wiltshire! Draco also has something arranged this weekend, so there'll be no-one there but us two and the house elves." His eyes glittered lasciviously.
With an invitation like that, what was a girl to do?