A New Order
"Disobedience is the true foundation of liberty. The obedient must be slaves." (Henry David Thoreau)
Lucius Malfoy had not seen a copy of either Witch Weekly or Narcissa's book. He stood in the middle of the marble entrance hall of the manor and angrily rubbed at a barked shin. Before him in a twisted heap of broken wood and metal lay a small children's tricycle, and Libby the house elf cowered at his feet wringing her hands.
"You stupid oaf of an elf! How often do I have to tell you to remove Lavinia's playthings from the entrance hall where people apparate? This is the second time this week I'm landing on top of one of her toys. Are you trying to break my neck on purpose! I've just about had enough of this! It's time someone taught you a lesson! Stay still, you little useless piece of filth!"
With a quick flick of his wrist he hefted his heavy silver-tipped cane and flipped it over so it vaguely resembled a golf club. Libby stood rooted to the spot, whimpering, and didn't dare move a muscle as he swung and hit her half across the hall with it. He followed the graceful arch of her flight with his lips curving in grim satisfaction when a cry alerted him.
A woman in pale blue robes with flaming red hair pinned up at the back of her head had appeared at the bottom of the hallway stairs and now ducked with a squawk of alarm as the elf barely cleared the air above her and impacted with one of the columns with a resounding smack. The elf slid down the length of the marble and collapsed in a stunned heap on the floor, and Lucius' lips compressed in a thin line as his wife approached him. He could have done without her as a witness.
"Lucius, for Hecate's sake, that's just mean!" she reproached him. "Was that really necessary?"
He flipped his cane back upright and prodded the destroyed toy with its silver tip accusingly.
"Yes, it was," he growled. "That stupid elf has one thing to do: tidy up after Lavinia. Yet I keep apparating on top of her things. I'm still trying to replace the rather expensive and rare Chinese toy dragon I broke last time I came home."
She cast a quick glance back over her shoulder, where Libby was slowly and painfully getting back on her feet and hobbled off sniffing most pitifully, and for a moment he was free to look at her slim, graceful figure outlined under the clinging light silk of her summer robes. Then she turned back to him.
"I'm sorry Lucius," she said gently. "I know things are bad enough at work these days and you don't need this kind of aggravation at home…"
He quickly strode forward over the pieces of metal and laid one arm around her waist while the forefinger of the hand that was holding his cane sealed her lips.
"Ssssh," he admonished her, a warning undertone in his voice. "Don't you apologize for the servants! Unless you want me to forget myself and treat you like one…"
He felt her shiver briefly as she settled her body against his and he inhaled the faint signature frankincense scent of her hair.
"Don't tempt me," she whispered against his neck. "I might just take you up on it."
Her hands slipped under his light traveling cloak and trailed over his chest, her fingers feeling delightfully cool through the thin linen of his shirt. Her nails curved in a soft scratch over one of his nipples, and he tightened the embrace.
"In this heat, my dear… I call that dedication," he purred into her ear. "Apologize all you want, and I might not let you go to sleep at all tonight."
A soft, knowing giggle answered him.
"Oh, Lucius, you cannot believe how incredibly sorry that makes me…"
Her green eyes sparkled with excitement as she looked up at him now, but just as he bent to kiss her, the muffled crack of an apparition interrupted him. He turned with a brief exasperated snort, not letting go of the slender body of his wife and faced the haggard, shabbily dressed figure of ex-minister Cornelius Fudge.
"Hm, Lucius," huffed the older wizard. "Almost didn't catch up with you there."
He patted his rather threadbare robes for imaginary dust.
Lucius sighed.
"Fudge, we left it at seven for dinner with the others. What are you coming after me for?"
The former minister looked flustered.
"Oh, errm, I must have misunderstood. Of course I can leave again…" he trailed off despondently.
The blond wizard waved the offer away magnanimously.
"Don't worry about it, my good man." He clapped his hands."Nibbs! – Show our guest into the green salon and serve him some refreshments and something to drink! Fudge, have the elf bring you some of my latest batch of single malt. You'll enjoy it. I will be with you in a few minutes."
The ex-minister shuffled out of the entrance hall, following the small house elf that led him away.
"What's he doing here?" asked Eleanor quietly. "He looks a bit rough round the edges, doesn't he?"
Lucius teasing, playful tone had changed to a conspiratory and somewhat urgent whisper.
"That's why I came home somewhat early today. We're having some guests tonight, about twelve witches and wizards from the ministry plus Fudge. We need to discuss the current state of affairs. Things have reached boiling point and something will have to be done. Fudge is one of the party; and yes, he's been in a rather pitiful way since he's lost the election. – Bit of a drinking problem and some trouble with his better half I'm afraid. But he may still prove useful."
The blond wizard laid his hands on his wife's shoulders and looked into her eyes.
"I will need you to organize a stylish but informal dinner for seven o'clock while I get a few things taken care of before our guests arrive. Don't hold back, my dear, blow them away for me – oh and getting everyone's tongue loosened a bit would not do any harm, either, so tell the elves to be free with the wine. I know you always manage to surpass my expectations."
He moved in to kiss her heatedly. "I know it's terribly short notice, but it's important and I will try to pay you back later," he promised her.
She smiled back at him, licking her lips.
"You know, Lavinia will be so disappointed if she has to dine by herself," she told him. "She has prepared a little surprise of her own for you."
For a moment Eleanor thought she actually saw something akin to guilt flit behind the cool grey eyes of the man who held her.
"Tell her, I'll make it up to her. Tell her, I'll read her another chapter of Morgana the Merciless for a bed-time story tomorrow."
The red-haired witch lifted an eyebrow.
"Fine, two chapters," he promised.
"Uh, that's not it, my dear. You'll give Maleficia another sleepless night if you do that. You know how exciting and gruesome that story is."
Lucius kissed her again.
"But Lavinia loves it so! And she is a young Malfoy, we need to give her some good role models to emulate, don't you agree."
His wife just shook her head.
"Lavinia the Merciless Malfoy. Now I see what you have in mind… Sometimes your educational concepts give me goosebumps, my dear."
"Oh, come on," he coaxed her. "You're the right one talking about goosebumps: I shudder every time you make her say 'thank you' and 'please' to the house elves. Now be a darling, put on something that will make all our male guests unable to think straight, set the house elves to work, and keep my little girl from thinking I'm a rotten scoundrel for abandoning her tonight."
He released her with a third kiss, and as she turned to walk away gave he a playful slap on her backside with the end of his cane. She whirled back with a small squeak of surprise and wriggled an accusing finger at him.
"Watch your manners Lucius Octavian Malfoy! Or I'm warning you: one of these days I will turn that cane of yours into a large wobbly muggle licorice stick."
He smirked as he watched her throw back her head and stalk from the entrance hall in mock outrage, robes flowing behind her. Then, with a sigh he pulled out his wand to vanish the sorry remnants of Lavinia's toy. Coming home felt more and more of a respite with every passing day, but to leave the vexing developments at the Ministry of Magic behind got harder and harder. He hoped that tonight's meeting would help them fight back against the intolerable turn events had taken over the last year.
Lucius bent sideways towards his wife and refilled her cut crystal goblet with some pale golden wine from a carafe. They had both gone easy on their drinks during their lavish dinner and she was now lifting her second glass to him in a small gesture of thanks.
His gaze moved down from her smiling eyes and arched mouth and lingered on the low-cut bodice of her dress: an elegant, slinky affair tailored from swirling amethyst-colored spider silk. It had certainly caused old Daimon Spofford to nearly trip over his long cloak when she had swept into the drawing room earlier to greet their guests. He suppressed a self-satisfied, proprietary smirk and passed the carafe on to Cornelius Fudge who sat on his other side and eagerly took it from him to replenish his glass.
"Please, my friends, help yourselves," he encouraged the dinner party and clapped his hands to call the house elves. "Fetch more wine and bring us dessert."
Soon the house elves had removed the last traces of their dinner and vanished crumbs and left-overs off the white damasked table-cloth. The enchanted harp in the corner of the room broke into a soft ballad tune and fresh plates appeared before the guests. A slim, dark-haired witch burped delicately into her serviette and blinked sleepily at their host.
"Mr. Malfoy, you are killing us with kindness," she reproached him. "I couldn't possibly eat any more."
A moment later a small pot-bellied house elf apparated in the center of the table next to a scrollworked metal contraption that held balanced on top of it a large cast iron pan. He wore a small pale cream tea cozy on his head, in lieu of a chef's hat, and held a long lit fidibus in one hand and a flagon filled with amber liquid in the other. With a deep, nervous bow to everyone he slowly approached the pan, tipped out the bottle over its contents and set fire to it. A moment later blue flames hissed upwards towards the ceiling and caused several witches and wizards to cry out in panic and start back from the table.
Lucius cocked an inquiring eyebrow at Eleanor who had planned the evening's entertainment, but as she stayed serenely calm in her seat and watched the spectacle, he immediately composed himself to show his guests that everything was perfectly under control.
A few seconds later the flames slowly died down and a most delightful aroma and scent of oranges and molasses filled the high dining room. Everyone now bent forwards with exclamations of wonder, their noses pointing towards the skillet. Lucius shot his wife a smug smile and then addressed the kitchen elf, who had begun to fill everyone's plates with dainty, parchment-thin, rolled up pancakes.
"You are quite a show-off, aren't you Eckles?" he growled, and almost caused the already stage-frightened creature to drop Fudge's pancakes onto the spotless table cloth.
As everyone was eating with relish, including the witch who had declared she could not face another morsel of food, Lucius leaned in to Eleanor.
"Very clever and impressive – perfect climax for a very well-thought out dinner, my dear," he murmured. "Your idea?"
He watched her pink tongue lap dreamily at a drop of sticky orange sauce that stubbornly stuck to the underside of her spoon. She seemed to be making up her mind about something.
"You like it?" she asked. "My mum found it in a cookbook, and Eckles did a great job in getting the practicalities set up. He is really quite an extraordinary chef, you know."
Lucius lifted a spoonful of pancake to his mouth and battled with the sneaking suspicion that his late mother-in-law had most likely been consulting a muggle cook book. Then the warm, fragrant citrus taste of the dessert melted on his tongue, and suddenly and inexplicably muggles seemed to be the least important concern in the universe.
The quiet murmur of conversations filled the room when finally the last dessert spoon was laid back on its plate and house elves served coffee and expensive cognac to the guests.
Lucius dabbed at the corners of his mouth with his serviette and leaned over to the ex-minister conversing in a low whisper. The older wizard nodded, blinked and then gently tapped his coffee spoon against his cognac snifter. The talk around the table died down, as everyone looked up expectantly.
Fudge snorted with the effort to push back his chair and get his feet under him, but finally he stood and addressed the company in his usual, self-assured, sonorous voice.
"My friends, I am exceedingly glad to see you all here tonight. First of all let me thank our host, Lucius Malfoy, who – with his usual generosity – has provided us with this sumptuous feast and the privacy of his home where we can freely talk about the recent alarming events at the Ministry that are having us all concerned.
I do not have to remind you of the memorable and startling developments that have finally lifted from us the horrific threat of You-Know-Who's ascent to total domination of the wizarding world. The Dark Lord is no longer with us, and an excellent young wizard paid with his life to ensure that this time around the demise of our foe will be irreversible and permanent."
Fudge's hand trembled slightly as he lifted his glass of cognac. "To the late Harry Potter, who saved us all. Merlin forgive me if I ever spoke ill of him."
The other wizards and witches solemnly repeated his toast, with the exception of Lucius, who mumbled something through clenched teeth that sounded more like "good riddance". He keenly felt the injustice of being forced to sacrifice his expensive premium brandy to the memory of the ridiculous heroics of the boy who no longer lived.
While Fudge spent several minutes sermonizing about Potter and Professor Dumbledore's commendable involvement Lucius' pale eyes traveled around the table. Twelve wizards and witches listened closely to the former Minister of Magic, twelve wizards and witches whom he had carefully hand-picked over the last few months to form the core of the resistance, to conspire against the new Minister of Magic and his ridiculous and dangerous policies.
He had started with his trusted family advocatus Marcellus Tethering, who sat quietly at the opposite end of the table, dressed in his customary non-descript grey robes and who had barely uttered a word the entire evening, concentrating instead on eating as much of every dish as was humanly possible. He now leaned back in his chair listening with his eyes half-closed.
Next to him squatted former Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge, her shapeless pasty body squashed into a lacy, pink confection of a gown several sizes too small for her. Lucius' lips curled in a barely suppressed display of distaste. He was not entirely convinced of Ms. Umbridge's usefulness. Ever since her brief stint as High Inquisitor at Hogwarts several years ago she had a nervous tic in her left eye and seemed terribly jittery, but she still followed Fudge faithfully.
Next to her an older, harried-looking wizard, a skinny, dark-haired witch and a jowly middle-aged sorcerer scowled openly at the ex-minister's speech in praise of Harry Potter. Daimon Spofford, Hel Meredith and Victor Bludgeon were the only remaining English Death Eaters who had evaded capture during Lord Voldemort's re-emergence, their identities never revealed. If the other guests knew their secret, they would most likely recoil in terror and outrage. All three of them held moderately influential posts at the Ministry.
The rest of the guests comprised a few old associates of Fudge's from his former glory days, two Unspeakables who were dissatisfied with current Ministry policies and a shifty-looking wizard named Mundungus Fletcher.
Lucius still had his doubts about him as he had been a former member of the Order of the Phoenix, but he had assured them that the Order and the new elite in power had begun to seriously disturb his numerous and profitable business venues, and admittedly the man was very well connected. Lucius had slipped him some Veritaserum a few weeks ago and not heard anything to the contrary. Under reasonable supervision Mundungus might prove valuable after all.
Finally the former minister moved on to the next topic of his carefully prepared speech, a topic that was considerably dearer to Lucius' heart than the headmaster of Hogwarts and his late protégé. He took a sip of his coffee and listened more closely.
"It is perhaps a rule of human nature that as the pendulum of events swings far into one direction, it will swing as far back into the opposite, and we must have now reached a reaction to You-Know-Who's belief in the benefits of the purity of wizarding blood that is as one-sided, perilous and extreme as his used to be.
It is to be regretted that public opinion was so swayed in favor of the members of the Order of the Phoenix during the last election that instead of trusting in me to guide our society during a third term of office and gently healing the wounds of our world, they chose to vote instead for Arthur Weasley, a man who had up to then held a rather insignificant and unimportant job at the Ministry of Magic. Mr. Weasley has had no previous experience in politics, but possesses an unhealthy and extreme fondness for muggles that I find as pernicious and fanatical as You-Know-Who's hatred of them."
Fudge sighed and wiped a slightly stained-looking handkerchief over his brow. A rustle went round the table as several of the guests cast surreptitious cooling spells.
"I will hardly have to remind you of the latest discriminations and restrictions his absurd fascination has imposed on us all: the new Protection Order 21 that tells us that jinxes cannot be performed within a 100 yard radius of any muggle, even when they are not directed at them. Then there are the new equality laws that specify preferential hiring of muggle-borns and half-bloods over pure-bloods to increase what he and his brainless followers call 'diversity' at the Ministry and in other professions.
I am telling you, being pure-blood these days is nothing less than a stigma and a burden. Everyone will automatically suspect that you had sympathies for You-Know-Who. Our careers and businesses have suffered, our children face discrimination."
Several guests nodded vigorously and even Lucius felt his lips compress in anger as he admitted the truth in Fudge's speech. He had lost several important customers to mudblood-run businesses over the last few months, and Draco, who had begun his apprenticeship in the Malfoy family trade, was constantly facing unfair prejudices and problems.
"But that is not all: now the Weasley faction is looking to forming ever closer ties with the world of muggles. There is idle chatter of exchange programs, of establishing contact with them, of mutual cooperation even."
The former minister's fist hit the table hard enough to make the coffee cups jump and clatter on their saucers.
"After all the centuries of persecution, of prejudices and fanaticism we have faced at the hands of stupid, uninformed muggles who lash out at us in terror of our abilities, he wants cooperation, wants to give up our carefully maintained code of secrecy. I am telling you: he has gone too far! He must be stopped! Stopped now, before it is too late, before our world will be overrun and destroyed by muggles!
Mr. Malfoy and I have called you together here tonight, because you are the only ones we can trust, the only staunch defenders of our way of life, the only witches and wizards who still know what the virtues of circumspection and moderation mean. You have to stand up to be counted, to be the saviors of our kind."
Lucius felt a surge of energy and excitement sweep around the room. Half drunk, impoverished and stripped of his former power Cornelius Fudge still retained his magic on occasions like this: the rhetoric and personal charisma that had made him Minister of Magic for two terms running, and most likely the most effective pawn in the entire set of political game-pieces that the elder Malfoy had ever had at his disposal.
Everyone's eyes were now glued to the speaker, and the older wizard took a deep breath before he continued.
"The last piece of demented devilry they have thought up is the establishment of a Department for Muggle Liaisons. And here is where we will take control back from them! When they least expect it!"
Lucius felt Eleanor shift in surprise at his side and looked up himself, while he captured her hand in his. He found Fudge's slightly unsteady eyes coming to rest on him.
"We will need to make an effort to place our own champion in charge of this new Department. We must rally behind one of the few pureblood wizards who still commands respect, deference and authority. We must support Lucius Malfoy for chief of Muggle Liaisons!"
Lucius blinked, mildly panicked now, and tried not to swallow too noisily. His pawn had just made a rather independent and unexpected move…