A/N – A very short chapter. It should sum up the holidays and their respective mindsets during that time, and lead us into the next part of the fic.
Disclaimer – I don't own any of the canon characters or concepts. Don't sue me.
Chapter 9 – Interlude.
Kate – Return to Innocence.
Life returned to normal on the holidays – or as normal as the world could be, now that Kate knew the world was far, far larger and far, far more wonderful than she had ever wished it could be. Her eyes had been opened to the wonder of her new world, and the old one seemed greyer, duller, and infinitely smaller. Oh, she knew that the wizarding world was not a perfect fairy tale land – how could she not, living in Slytherin? – but if her new, magical world was so much more wonderful than the mundane one, it seemed inevitable that it should it also be so much more dangerous.
No light without darkness…
She had heard the whispered discussions in the darkness, rumours of new shadows rising in the breeding grounds of old hatreds, prejudices and fears, and she had been afraid.
Because she was a mudblood surrounded by purebloods who were starting to whisper the name Lord Voldemort with reverence, awe, and most of all fear. Because the High Clans were beginning to eye each other askance, wondering who would come calling, anonymous in the dark night if they spoke out too openly, even in the company of friends…
But she was home, now. Back to the small, suburban house that she had lived in for all her life, and the small, suburban houses that surrounded it – Mr and Mrs. Anderson on the right, with their son John who was fourteen years old, and their daughter Jane who had been Kate's and Lily's best friend, at their former school. And on the left were the Atwell's: Mr. Atwell who played golf with her father and Mrs Atwell who was on the same charities and committees as her mother…
In such a world, how seriously could she take sinister, hooded Death Eaters and megalomaniac Dark wizards intent on eugenic genocide?
Slowly, she began to recover the confidence, the naïve sense of invulnerability that came of being twelve years old, with parents who loved her and sheltered her from anything even remotely dangerous. She began to regain some of her old spirit, some of the light-heartedness she had had to suppress among the more serious Slytherins.
Surely she must have been exaggerating the danger.
And even if she hadn't been, Luc would protect her. He had given his word.
Luc – The Realities of Life
The holidays had begun, and Luc and his brother left the strangeness of the world Outside and returned to their real world – the timeless, enchanted land where they had lived for their whole lives. The familiarity was reassuring – the quiet, contented peace of the fertile countryside, the solid, enduring bulk of the Castle, and the comforting masculine atmosphere of their father's study where they stood before his desk, waiting for him to acknowledge them.
Marcus Malfoy, unchanged and just as confidence-inspiring as ever, was writing a letter, the repetitive scritch-scritch of his quill the only sound in the silent room. It was not a tactic designed to intimidate them and stretch their nerves – although it could be used in such a manner – but evidence of their father's desire to finish his correspondence before turning to them. Work came first, and then he would give them his whole attention.
Finally he removed his signet ring, pressed it firmly into the puddle of hot wax to seal the letter, and then turned to his two sons standing before his desk, favouring them with a slight smile as he absently slipped the ring back onto his finger. "Well, my sons? How was your journey home?"
He came out from behind the desk, and urged them to sit on the dark leather chairs before the fireplace. Luc allowed that it had been a rather interesting journey, and that the servants sent to fetch them had been quite satisfactory. They spoke, then, on small, trivial matters of no real import, until their father came to the point of the interview.
"And what did you think of Hogwarts? Is it everything you thought it would be?"
Lucius smiled, genuinely pleased. It had indeed been a most enjoyable year. "Very well, Father. We had an amazing time – it was exactly as you described it to us."
But Marcus did not return the smile; instead he turned the full power of his heavy-lidded, fathomless gaze onto Luc. "'Mudbloods mingling with the High Clan?'" He repeated his words of earlier in the year rather sardonically. "I did tell you, did I not, to see and experience everything you could? And yet I don't believe that I expected you to go quite so far…"
Luc drew in a breath, but he did not look away from his father's eyes. "How did you find out? Who told you?" His tone was respectful – it did not border on the challenging, not yet. But someone had spoken out of turn, despite his explicit orders…
A languidly raised brow caused Luc to lower his eyes, and Lucius to shift uneasily. Marcus Malfoy did not tolerate insolence from his sons.
"It is of little consequence how I found out, Lucien," he said, after an uncomfortable pause. "Such an unusual occurrence cannot be kept silent for long. However, it is not my opinion of this matter that you should be worried about."
Luc frowned. "But I don't understand, sir. If I see fit to take a mudblood under my protection, why should anyone else's reaction matter?"
His father sighed. "Why did you adopt this girl, this…Kate?"
"Because she has an extraordinary, almost instinctive gift for analysis; with training, sir, she could be brilliant – dangerously brilliant. I thought it best to secure her loyalty and considerable skills for myself and the Malfoy, instead of leaving things to chance."
"And you didn't think of the possible consequences for yourself?" Marcus' tone was dry, detached – it showed no sign of whatever it is he was thinking.
"Consequences?" Once again, he was genuinely puzzled. "What consequences, sir? They won't dare challenge me, and if they do I'll crush them."
"She is a mudblood, Lucien. And all those who associate with mudbloods are tainted with the same brush. Yes, you are powerful, and yes, they don't dare challenge you now, but later on? When the anti-muggle and -mudblood sentiment has grown stronger, and the shadows darker? The whispers will start; they'll question your loyalties and sympathies…"
Lucius spoke up. "Surely it won't come to that, sir?"
"Oh, it will, Lucius. It will. And when it comes, she will be a liability – not just for you, Luc, but for us all, no matter which side we choose. If we oppose the Death Eaters, they will call us muggle lovers, blood traitors, and will hate us all the more for it; even if we join with them, they will challenge you to prove your loyalty by – at the very least – discarding her…"
Luc was very white, his face strained and intense. "That's not…" he broke off, struggled. "I don't…" Pinned by his father's eyes, he stopped. "It will not come to that. I won't let it…"
Marcus Malfoy watched his eleven year old son and wished he could spare his son the pain he could so clearly foresee. That girl will drag him down with her – it would be better for all concerned if she were put out of the way…
But Luc's next words made him freeze. "I gave my word, Father…!"
Thanks to all my reviewers and all the people who have stuck by this story. I think I can actually (finally) sense the ending…
Next chapter – fast forward to 7th year. Things have changed, and not for the better…