The Female of the Species
Chapter 9Cho finished packing her bag. She wanted to be ready to leave as soon as possible. She had reluctantly agreed to stay only until Narcissa Malfoy had questioned her husband. Cho was sure that whatever she discovered, it would not make her any more willing to stay at Glen Moy Castle.
Really, what did she owe the Malfoys? Lucius had used her, played with her emotions, made her fall in love with him against her own better judgement and all Alan's warnings. Cho had never expected Lucius to leave Narcissa, but she had believed him when he told her that they were now married in name only, that they both looked outside their marriage for their sexual pleasures. She had also foolishly assumed that Lucius took only one mistress at a time. She had been unable to hide the hurt and shock she felt when his wife informed her of the true state of affairs.
Then there was Narcissa Malfoy. Cho had recognised immediately she first met her that Mrs Malfoy was an extremely intelligent woman who knew all about her husband's extramarital activities. Cho had chosen to believe Lucius' version of events: that Narcissa did not care what he did. But now that Cho had seen Mrs Malfoy close to in a crisis, she realised that Lucius' wife cared so much that it hurt. Lucius was not a fool, he could not be unaware of this fact. One of the reasons he was such a good lover was that he read female emotions so well: he had always recognised Cho's mood, he had always known what she liked and disliked during their lovemaking: if he ever tried something she did not like, she had never needed to tell him to stop, he had felt her reaction instantaneously, and proceeded to stimulate her in a way he knew she enjoyed. Cho had never before felt so cherished as she lay in the arms of such a caring, observant man. It was therefore impossible that Lucius should not know how his wife felt. This meant that he had deliberately lied to Cho. Narcissa Malfoy loved him deeply, and he must care for her too if this morning's evidence was anything to go by. Lucius was far too selfish to make love to his wife merely to please her. He only ever did what he himself wanted to.
Cho sat awhile on the bed, thinking. Then, when Narcissa did not return, she went to look out of her window at the slopes of Ben Foy. She brought a chair over to the window, and sat staring out, not really seeing the scenery, but experiencing so many conflicting emotions as she thought over what had happened and what she now knew. Then a movement caught her eye, and she saw that Narcissa was walking across the greensward towards the loch. Cho was surprised, she had expected Narcissa to come straight back to her with Lucius' answers to her questions, but instead there she was strolling in the grounds. Cho watched her for a while, and realised that Narcissa had no specific object in mind, she was merely walking aimlessly. She had probably gone outside to think: whatever Lucius had told her required some consideration.
That meant that Lucius was alone. Cho stood up, having made a decision: she would go and see Lucius, and by his reaction alone she would know whether or not to stay.
Cho entered Lucius' room. She saw at once that he was writhing in agony, and her natural empathy made her feel deep sympathy for his pain. She hurried over to his bedside, and spoke his name. She saw him hesitate as he heard her. Lucius' lips were pulled back in a snarl, which may have been due to his pain, but when he opened his eyes, the black expression in them made her take an involuntary step backwards. He was actually glaring at her!
"What are you doing here?" he hissed in a voice of pure venom.
"I only came here because your wife asked me to," whispered Cho, shocked at his tone.
"Indeed. Well, I am asking you to leave. I believe I told you perfectly clearly that our relationship was at an end. I am not accustomed to being disobeyed. I suggest you go immediately. You need not wait for Narcissa to return. I'll tell her you've gone. There is nothing more irritating than a woman who doesn't recognise when she's no longer amusing."
Lucius closed his eyes again, abruptly signalling the end of the discussion.
Cho, her eyes filled with tears, did not see Lucius watch her leave through the slit in his eyelids, and could never have guessed how much he regretted what he had made himself do, and how bitterly he congratulated himself on his superb acting abilities.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………..
Narcissa sat staring into space, her cloak wrapped closely about her against the chill of the damp air, her mind churning. She did not register where she was, her feet had taken her there almost of their own accord, but she sat in the summer house, scene of so many of Lucius' seductions and one or two of her own. Her unfocussed eyes looked through the glass, the view of the loch and mountains obscured by the condensation from her own breath.
Voldemort was alive.
Narcissa could hardly comprehend the magnitude of this revelation. She did not know how to react to the news. Had she been told immediately after the wizarding world believed he had been killed, she knew she would have rejoiced. But she had had almost two years to reconcile herself to his death, and during that time, many Death Eaters had been accepted back into respectable society. Some had claimed that they had been reluctant supporters of the Dark Lord. The Malfoys, even had they wished to avail themselves of this pretence, would never have been believed. However, Voldemort's chief supporters were now welcome in homes where previously they had been persona non grata: money and influence as ever oiled the wheels of social success. Narcissa had no great need to be universally loved, but she enjoyed flaunting her beauty and wealth in the faces of those who had once refused to receive her.
Voldemort was alive. But barely.
He was using the body of that pathetic person Peter Pettigrew, who even as a human resembled his rat animagus. He was weak and only just alive. His powers had faded. His will and desire for power were all he had left; that and his ability to control Wormtail enough to retain his hold on life, and to force his most faithful Death Eaters to obey him.
Voldemort was alive. He was frightened and therefore dangerous.
He was frightened that he would indeed die, that his survival had been in vain, that the attraction of the Dark Side was not enough to counteract the revulsion he knew he generated in all who saw him. Tom Riddle had been a wonderfully clever and handsome boy who had grown into an even more intelligent man. At first, Voldemort the man had been just as handsome, but the practice of Dark Magic and his attraction for the base and wicked had taken its toll on his appearance, and like the Edward Hyde of the wizarding world, his looks had become louche and his face lined and aged; and this was true even before Voldemort had lost his body and become nothing more than a parasite on Quirrell.
Now, Lucius could hardly bear to look upon his once strong and supremely evil Master. He had bought a king's ransom's worth of jade in order to preserve the life of this monstrosity, and he bitterly regretted it. He could not see an end to his entrapment, serving a Dark Lord hovering between this world and the next: a Dark Lord who would never be able to give Lucius the power he craved as a reward for his devotion.
Voldemort was alive. And he had tried to kill Lucius.
Narcissa's protective instinct came to the fore when she thought of this last fact. Her love for Lucius mingled with the jealous reaction she had immediately felt when she learned why Voldemort had used Wormtail's wand to cast the Cruciatus curse on him: Lucius had saved Cho Chang from the clutches of the Dark Lord, who had planned to use her for his own twisted pleasures, after luring her to the dungeon using legilimency. Voldemort thwarted was anger incarnate, and when Lucius had returned to the dungeon after rescuing Cho, he had walked immediately into a vicious attack from his Master.
Her mind now turned to Lucius' attempt to persuade her that he still loved her. On the contrary, he had said those weasel words, told those unforgivable lies, because he loved Cho Chang. He wanted Narcissa to send her away to protect her from Voldemort. The stabbing pain in her chest almost stopped her from breathing when she thought of how Lucius had tried to play with her feelings. If he had been honest with her, and asked her to send Cho away to keep her safe, it would not have been half so bad as this treatment. Narcissa knew Lucius could be cruel, but this was far more hurtful than any physical pain he had ever offered her when he was in a rage.
Knowing that she was unobserved, Narcissa allowed herself a rare moment to submit to her feelings. Tears ran down her face, and a low keening noise escaped from her throat. Why did she love this man so much? Why could she not have chosen someone who would feel the same way about her? But even as she thought this, she knew she would never have been satisfied with any fawning admirer. Lucius' very attraction was his elusiveness, and she knew that nobody could ever possess more of him than she did herself.
Narcissa dried her eyes, and began to plan. She knew what she had to do. The only problem was, what should she do about Cho Chang? On the one hand, Lucius wished to keep her safe, and she had also promised Alan Forbes that she would not expose Cho to danger. On the other hand, what would be the consequences if she were unsuccessful? As she had told Cho, she might indeed be killed. Someone needed to know what was happening at Glen Moy Castle just in case.
She made up her mind. She ran through the plan again in her head. She stood up and walked back to the castle, hardly noticing the fine drizzle that soaked her feet and hair.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………..
Narcissa Malfoy rose early after a sleepless night spent tossing and turning in her bed. She had felt alternately hot and cold as her body reacted to the thoughts spinning round her head. In response, she had thrown off her bedclothes and lain naked, then as the sweat cooled on her body, and the chill of her room eventually registered (for Narcissa rarely burned a fire overnight except in the depths of winter), she had curled in a foetal position under the blankets trying to get warm.
She pulled on a comforting velvet dressing gown, and sat at the table before the window by the light of an oil lamp. She laid out a number of sheets of vellum, set out her crystal ink pot, and took her favourite swan's feather quill. Weighing each word carefully as she wrote, she prepared four letters, writing the recipients' names clearly in her flowing hand on the folded sheets, and imprinting the sealing wax with the Malfoy twisted serpent. Then she took a fifth longer sheet, and even more carefully wrote out her instructions, her blood almost freezing in her veins as she thought of why she was doing this. Her hand shook as she inscribed the final words on the outside of the scroll into which she formed it. She finished off the document by tying it firmly in place with a length of green ribbon. She finally looked up, and saw that it was now light, but it was a grey overcast day that suited her mood perfectly.
Leaving her handiwork on her desk, she went to see Lucius. At first she thought he was asleep, but as she approached his bed, she saw he was watching her. "You're very bright and early today, my dear," he observed softly. He looked at Narcissa as she lit the lamp on his bedside table. Lucius put out a hand to take his wife's as she sat beside him.
"What's wrong, Narcissa?" he asked her, his keen eyes noting her expression. She shook her head numbly, not daring to speak. She looked into his grey eyes, and stroked his face gently with her fingers. Now she was here, she wondered why she had come. She could not tell Lucius what she was going to do, and he knew she was planning something. But really she knew why she had come: she needed to take what might be one last look at her husband. She wanted to hug him, to bury her face in his hair, to have him hold her close; but the best she could do was to remember the passion of that morning two days ago, and be glad that she had that memory to hold within her heart. Narcissa suddenly bent over Lucius, and kissed his cheek. Then she stood, and walked out of the room without a backward glance, sending Poppy in to Lucius in her stead .
Narcissa wondered whether she should eat breakfast, and decided she could not face any food. Instead, she made her way to the owlery: in the castle, the owls lived in one of the high turrets. There she softly called for her favourite, the sooty owl Hibou. He glided down on silent black wings, and sat on her thick protective glove, gripping tightly with grey claws ending in black talons. He then stared knowledgeably at her from dusky eyes set in a heart shaped silvery face. Narcissa murmured her instructions to him as she made her way back down the spiral staircase, balancing Hibou carefully as she walked. She took him into her room, and showed him her papers. She selected one of the letters, and tied it to his leg, then placed him on a perch, and proceeded to dress.
She carefully put on the blue crushed velvet gown, lacing the front tightly under her breasts so that they were pushed upwards and outwards, her nipples only just covered by the fabric. However, on her feet she wore practical boots with low heels and good grips on the soles: she could not afford to risk losing her footing on the stairs or the uneven stone floor.
Narcissa then took her wand to her wardrobe, parted the numerous robes and gowns hanging there, and tapped the wooden back of the interior, saying, "Dissendium". A door to a secret compartment magically came into view, and slid open. Narcissa took out a slim decorated wooden box about a foot long that she had secreted there many years previously. She placed the box on her table, and lifted the lid. She looked for a long time at the contents: this item was Narcissa Malfoy's second big secret.
