Chapter Nine: On Malfoy Manor
The car bounced and jostled just enough to keep her from falling asleep. She'd spent the rest of the previous night without even a wink of sleep, trying to pack between thoughts of Snape and the Malfoys. The fatigue was pressing heavily on her now, her eyes drooping with exhaustion.
The car, sleek black and longer than any she'd ever seen, had been waiting for them at King's Cross. The driver, a man with small and lifeless eyes, had ushered them to it, packing their luggage away like an automaton. They had been driving for almost an hour, most of which passed in silence. Through half-closed eyes, Lili noticed that, the closer they got to Malfoy Manor, the further Draco's lips sank, his face going even paler than normal. He was fidgeting with the door handle, eyes locked on the scenery rushing past.
They were deep in the country now, passing by hills that she guessed would have been quite green had it not been for the season. As it was white snow stretched out to the darkening horizon, dotted only with the occasional black of distant homes.
One particular speck was growing ever closer. It sat atop one of the tallest hills, and, slowly, as the car snaked its way nearer, the house seemed to expand—to dominate the bleached landscape. When the car finally slid to a halt at its feet, Lili felt as if she were lurking in the shadow of a thoroughly gothic mountain.
She followed Draco's example and waited for the dead-eyed driver to walk around and open her door. Her feet crunched into the snow, and she looked straight up, trying not to think about a single word Snape had said.
The house wrapped itself around the hill's crest like a claw, dark gray against severe white. Though they were withered and dusted with snow, Lili could tell the gardens must have been breath-taking at any other time. Hedge and bush rows curled in a meticulous way, tracing outward in every direction, framing the gnarled and naked trees as black bracelets. During the spring, she imagined Malfoy Manor was virtually hidden away on this remote hill, smothered in oaks and magnolias. Now, however, it had all the stripped chill of slate bone, disinterred.
"This is it," Draco sighed, dusting at his robes. "Malfoy Manor. Four stories, four wings, a serving staff of—"
But Lili wasn't listening. She had become fascinated with the steady stream of tiny creatures that had begun scurrying out the front doors and wobbling back in, luggage in tow. She had never seen a houself, let alone so many. As they passed, each bowed and beamed at her, each squeaking their own refrain of "good day, Miss."
"Draco!" The snowflake voice floated on the winter air with perfect elegance, every vowel stretched like a well-worn glove. A tall, svelte woman glided out of the front entrance, her dress trailing through the frost as she neared them.
"Hello mum."
The woman leaned forward and pecked her son on the cheek. He returned the affection. It had all the warmth of a handshake.
"And this must be Miss Elizabeth Lee," the woman said, inclining her head though Lili was far shorter than she.
"Please, call me Lili."
"It's a pleasure to have you here in our home, Lili," the woman continued, motioning for the two of them to follow her past the steady stream of houselves and through the doors. "Draco has told my us so much about you."
Lili was careful to avoid tripping over houselves as she entered. "I'm—I'm honored to be invited," she said, too tired and overwhelmed to try and back up the words with enthusiasm.
The foyer was just as Lili had imagined it might be. The walls were a thick, black marble, topped with buttresses which Lili guessed would be of the flying variety. Above, in the domed entrance was a massive silver chandelier which, dotted with hundreds of sparkling candles, blanketed the room in warm, pale light. Everything around her seemed to shimmer and sweat with wealth, and, as she glanced over at a spot of particularly well-polished wall, she found the shadows of her own dull eyes in gleaming marble. She was looking even more tired than she felt.
The houselves finally stopped, and the last one slammed the thick oak door shut with a resounding thud. Lili jumped.
"I'se sorry, Miss," the elf apologized, looking up at Mrs. Malfoy nervously. He scampered off after the others.
"Those were a number of our houselves." Lili privately wondered at the idea that there were more somewhere. "If you need anything, just grab one. They'll take care of it."
Lili nodded, doing her best to look more grateful than nervous.
The three of them looked at each other for several moments, silent and awkward.
"Um, where's Father?" Draco ventured finally, glancing about as if expecting Mister Malfoy to come springing out from the shadows.
Which, of course, he did at that very moment.
Mister Malfoy, a sturdy and statuesque man wrapped in pristine gray, strode into the foyer in a way that Lili immediately associated with the term "lord of the manor." He, like his wife, seemed to glide towards them, head held so high she could barely make out his flinty eyes over the tip of his nose.
"Father."
The two men nodded at one another: not even the warmth of a handshake.
"And this must be Miss Lee," he said, bowing deeply and taking her hand to kiss it. As his lips touched her skin, she fought back a shudder that ran up her arm and wrapped itself around her spine. "It seems my son has inherited his father's excellent taste in young women."
She forced a smile and stared, determined, at anything other than Mr. Malfoy's appraising eyes.
He had pressed the smile into his face like a tight crease. "No doubt Narcissa has told you how glad we are to have you here," he continued, holding his hands behind his back. "I think it is a shame how your family has treated you. We want you to know you still have people to turn to."
"Thank you. I'm honored to be in your home."
The response seemed to please him as the crease widened, tilted. "Well, I'm sure you're tired from the day's journey." Lili wondered if he had spotted the dark rings under her eyes. "Please, allow me to show you to your room. The houselves have already carried up your things."
She was overcome with the wish that they could have carried her up with her luggage. Going "up" anywhere sounded tiring enough without having to endure Mister Malfoy's stinging eyes on the way.
But she merely nodded, following him back out the shadowed doorway from which he'd entered and into yet another, larger foyer which split dramatically into two spiraling staircases, each spinning up in separate directions. They took the right.
They walked for a long while in silence, the sound of her shoes clicking uncertainly on the flagstone floors. Paintings of severe-looking older men --whom Lili took to be Malfoy ancestors-- lined the halls. Most of them were marked by the same gray eyes and pale skin that defined their current heirs. She was glad when she realized that, unlike the Hogwarts' paintings, these particular portraits did not move, merely glowering down at her from behind stern yet stationary eyes.
"You're room is just beyond this," Mister Malfoy said, turning on his heels rather abruptly. She was glad to have kept enough distance that she didn't plow into him. "It's the best guest room in the house. This is the main library." He pushed open the oak door beside them. "I thought you might enjoy being near it. It's one of the largest private collections in England."
For a moment, Lili forgot where she was and whom she was with. She entered the room in the manner a pilgrim would a shrine. Every bit of wall space was lined with bookshelves, every space on every shelf crammed full. She breathed in deeply, overwhelmed by the smell of paper and oilcloth. "It's wonderful."
"Yes. From what Draco told me about your marks, I thought you might be interested in this." He stretched a hand out, lightly resting his weight on one of the cases near the doorway. "There are some books in here that can't be found anywhere else in world. I hope you'll feel welcome here at any time."
Lili had turned away from him, examining some of the books to the left of the door. They were packed tightly together, making them almost impossible to extricate. She settled for merely glossing over the titles. Anatomy of the Unicorn by Gladys Billsby. The Unforgivables: A History, no author. Curse Classes of Western Europe by Edgar Halcyon. A Brief Genealogy of English Wizarding Families by Alexander Malfoy, Esq. They all sounded like the sort of things a good Slytherin family would have on their shelves. "Yes, it's wonderful. I've never seen anything quite like it."
"Well, you're welcome to borrow anything. There's a potions section on that wall there." He gestured loosely. "From what Draco tells me, that's your interest. Feel free to peruse. We have a number of cauldrons and ingredients available if you want to try anything, though I hope you'll consider having a bit of a holiday as well."
She actually managed a half-genuine grin in return. Making potions was the first thing Mister Malfoy had said that made her feel comfortable. As soon as she could, she'd look over the book Snape had given her and try a few things out.
Malfoy strode out the door without another word.
He opened the next door they arrived at with an even greater flourish than the previous. The gesture produced the desired effect.
The room itself was large: about half the size of the library. The walls were a deep burgundy trimmed in rich, gold-leafed flourishes and borders. The floor, covered by woven carpets seemed to sink beneath her feet with a soft, warm tingle. A fire snapped intensely in its marble cage, throwing up the smell of cinder and wood. There were several mirrors, a few paintings of the Manor's surrounding landscape, and a large, dark wood armoire on the opposite wall. The bed--a canopy which dominated the room--was drenched in shimmering curtains and sheets that matched the deep claret of the walls. At that moment, nothing in the world looked more inviting to Lili than those smooth, curving pillows and cool, silk sheets.
"I hope this will due for the next few weeks," Mister Malfoy said, tilting his grin again in the way Lili had always associated with Draco. "I daresay it's likely a bit nicer than your accommodations at Hogwarts."
"Yes, it's wonderful," she was sure to say quickly. And that she could say without hesitation. She had never been in any room so rich, so warm, --so inviting. She forced her eyes up to Malfoy's with a decorous grin. "Thank you very much for your hospitality. I don't know what to say." Once again, she was telling the truth. The situation gave rise to such mixed emotions, nothing seemed entirely appropriate to voice.
"Don't worry, my dear. Just enjoy yourself. We want to show you there are, without a doubt, people in this world who can appreciate you for all your talents and ambition." His lopsided grin broadened, pale eyes glinting in a way that Lili couldn't read. "We'll send someone up to announce dinner."
He gave a deep bow and closed the door gently.
Every muscle in her body unwound itself, and, for the first time since they had boarded the Hogwarts Express that morning, Lili felt the full weight of her weariness consume her.
Just put away your heavy cloaks, then you can crawl into bed and drift away… She dragged her feet all the way to the armoire, peeling off her outer layers as she went.
Opening its thin mahogany doors, she was met with a surprise.
Her suitcase rested still unpacked on the bottom shelf. However, hanging from what appeared to be thick, gold hangers, were almost twenty pairs of robes, different cuts, styles, and colors, all made from the finest materials and all seemingly brand new.
Swallowing, she pulled down one hanger, turning over the collar to check. It was her size precisely.
In fact, she discovered after a bit more investigating, they were all her size. Clearly, they were meant as gifts.
Dumping her cloaks on top of her case, she shut the armoire doors with a thud. What the hell does this mean, she asked herself, wearily, lurching her way towards the bed. She had learned in her time in Slytherin to question the meaning of every act, no matter how trivial it seemed. Were they afraid her clothes wouldn't be up to their standard? Was it merely a gesture of their "support" for her?
She couldn't suppress a yawn as she slouched down between the cool, smooth sheets. Perhaps, she thought, there was something deeper to it—something more manipulative. She couldn't help thinking back to Snape's warning about the dress. Could all these gifts really mean something…dangerous?
The warmth of the fire poured over her, the thick scent of smoldering wood filling her lungs. And, closing her eyes, she found it very difficult to play at Slytherin mind games for very long.
The sleep was hard, heavy and dreamless.
It took several nibbles before Artibius managed to wake her.
Blinking and tingling with the relief of a good nap, it took Lili a moment to remember where she was. Artibius was perched on her chest, gnawing at her ear earnestly.
"Artibius…" she yawned, sitting up with a wide stretch.
The large bat clicked several times, nudging at something with his horned nose.
She looked down. He had carried the bag full of suan mei to the bed and was now pointing it out suggestively.
"You twerp," she sighed, pulling one out but holding it firmly away from him. "What makes you think you deserve this?"
He gave a short squeal and snatched it from between her fingers.
"Oh, bugger," she snapped as he flew up to the ceiling where he could nibble the treat without fear of retribution.
She scowled but chuckled nonetheless, glad to have brought him along. She had left Hui at the dormitory with Dia, but Artibius had refused to stay. He had spent that morning's trip wrapped in cloaks, snoozing away.
Lili took her time getting out of bed. Judging from the dark sky outside the window beside her, she had managed several hours of sleep. Her stomach confirmed this fact with a shake and a growl. Luckily, this meant dinner should also be ready soon.
She decided to change robes, pulling on some rather attractive woolen ones from the armoire. It would be a polite gesture to show her appreciation for the Malfoys' gifts—whatever motivation lurked in the background.
She was turned towards the long mirror beside the armoire, straightening her rather obstinate hair, when a soft knock came at the door.
"Come in."
A tiny, pillowcase-clad houself came tottering in, doe-eyes turned up reverently. "Miss, I is sent to tell you that dinner is being served. You is requested in the main dining hall."
She couldn't help but smile. The houself's tiny lips were pressing and flapping deliberately, as if the sentences had been carefully rehearsed before she entered. "Alright. Could you show me where that might be?"
The elf nodded emphatically, scurrying out the door. Lili hurried to follow. "Artibius," she called up to the ceiling as she left, "stay here. I'll be back just after dinner."
The bat let out a shrill squawk, unhappy to be excluded from any event involving food.
The elf led her down the hall she had seen earlier with Mister Malfoy, but this time they took a different staircase, finding their way into a grand corridor flanked with smooth porcelain urns, busts on marble pedestals, and hundreds of torches sparking through gold grates. A red carpet crawled down the long passage, a tongue rolling from the very distant mouth of the dining hall.
"Miss is looking very pretty in her new robes. Master is having these specially made for Miss."
"Thank you," Lili answered, not enjoying the reminder. "Mister Malfoy certainly did go out of his way to make me feel welcome."
At this, the tiny houself resumed her loose-necked nodding. "Oh yes. Geeti is proud to serve such a generous Master. Geeti thinks Master is always good to his guests."
"Uh…Geeti? Is that your name?"
The tiny elf nodded.
"Well, Geeti, tell me: is Mister Malfoy good to you?"
The elf turned her eyes up to Lili, mouth gaping. "How can Miss ask this question?" she gasped. "Of course Master is good to Geeti. Master is good to all elves who is doing their jobs and knowing their place. Geeti is loving serving Master."
Lili wondered if this answer was true or if the elf merely suspected she might report any negative response. However, the elf's ardent affirmation did give Lili some hope that her anxiety about the Malfoys was somewhat misplaced.
The passage finally ended in two tall and bulky wrought iron doors, already swung open. Lili was glad of this as she wasn't sure she and tiny Geeti could have opened them alone.
"Here you is, Miss," the elf said, backing out. "Just go on in. And if you is wanting anything else to eat, just let someone know. Geeti will bring it in straight away."
"Thank you Geeti." But the houself had already scurried off, busying herself, no doubt, with the enormous preparations necessary for serving dinner.
Lili took several ginger steps into the dining room, the click of her heels on the stone floor volleying sharply back at her head from the vaulted ceilings. She drew her woolen robes closer, gooseflesh pricking up across her skin. Despite the large fireplace on the opposite side of the room, the air seemed thick with cold, parting almost palpably as she stepped through it.
The room itself was huge, as she'd expected: but it was entirely different from what she'd already seen of the manor. It was decorated sternly with tall candelabras and iron-ringed chandeliers, several coats or arm hung, imposing, above a blazing fire. It was something utterly medieval, impressive for its massive austerity rather than its richness and luxury. A long wooden table--which she imagined could seat about fifty to sixty people—dominated the room. And, at the far end to her left, she could distinguish several figures seated, vague in the dim firelight.
"Ahh, Lili!" It issued unmistakably from the white throat of Mister Malfoy. She saw the figure at the head of the table stand, motioning.
It took her several loud and clacking steps to reach the far end. Draco and his mother sat on either side of Mister Malfoy, looking up at her warmly. Beside Mrs. Malfoy, three unfamiliar faces met hers, instantly calculating.
Draco stood and pulled out the seat beside his. With a quick nod, she sat, trying to keep her face blank and her eyes steady on the empty silver plate before her.
"This," Mister Malfoy said at length, "is Lili, a guest of Draco's here for the holidays."
Lili was forced to raise her eyes, meeting the strangers' indifferent looks as firmly as she could.
"These are a few of our friends—guests here tonight. This is Walden Macnair. He works at the Ministry."
The man's face was hard, lined with age and wear. His thin lips pressed tighter in what must have been his abortive attempt at a smile. She nodded politely.
"And Jeremiah Avery. An old acquaintance from Hogwarts."
This man sat tall in his seat, drawn in what Lili found an almost comically haughty pose. His features dripped down his face, making him seem unreservedly sour. He did not choose to acknowledge her in any way other than to meet her eyes with a self-important smirk.
"And Patricia Parkinson. Another old Slytherin, eh Patricia?"
Lili didn't have to ask if this woman was related to Pansy. She had the same bony thickness to her face, the same thin wisps of brown hair, and the same sharp, black eyes. "I believe I know her daughter, Pansy."
"Yes, I've heard plenty about you, my dear," she said, her tone unreadable. "Your robes are lovely. Excellently tailored. I have some rather like them—of course not that color, but…" She gave a wan smile.
Under the table, Lili balled her fists. Above the table, however, she tried to mimic the cool indifference that seemed to be in style. "Yes, thank you. They were a gift from Mister Malfoy. I think it was an excellent choice of color."
This revelation seemed to startle the older woman into silence.
Mister Malfoy did not acknowledge the comments however, amusement dripping over the lip of his goblet. "Yes, you do look lovely in them, Lili. They are our Christmas gift to you, though, I'll admit, Narcissa did all the shopping—I was merely the one handing over the Galleons."
At this the two men snorted and Mrs. Parkinson giggled nasally.
Lili was trying to decide how to express her gratitude in a roundabout and altogether appropriately Slytherin way, when several houselves scampered in, bearing a large number of dishes, steaming and wafting sweet smells through the hall. Distracted by the food, everyone fell out of conversation for a long while, spooning and poking and filling their plates.
Lili found that, even in her hunger, little seemed palatable. The food all seemed very delicate and rich, and every bit made her stomach churn harder. She tried sticking mostly to the steamed potatoes and took to watching those around her eat in silence.
She turned to look at Draco. He sat beside her like a statue, shoveling his food faster than normal, eyes riveted stonily on his plate. It was clear he would not be carrying on much conversation with her until after dinner.
"Draco."
Beside her, Draco paused, as if caught. "Yes?"
"Why don't you get one of the houselves to fetch your present for Lili?" Mister Malfoy dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a thick, black napkin.
Lili couldn't believe it. Another gift? It was getting more and more uncomfortable to accept all these presents without anything to give in return.
But Draco had already turned around in his seat and motioned to one of the houselves.
"Really," Lili objected, her voice echoing so loudly in the silence that it startled her. "You've given me so much already, and I've nothing to give you in return. It's too much." Her eyes danced between Mister and Mrs. Malfoy. She was beginning to suspect the wisdom of owing a Malfoy anything.
Lucius Malfoy's cool chuckle reverberated from the vaulted ceilings bouncing back at her, its sharpness doubled. "Please, do not insult us. We Malfoys have been given much: a few yards of cloth is nothing short of pocket change." The grin that had been sitting on his lips fell. "Besides, this gift is from Draco, not us. It was his idea." The snap in his voice told her that, though Mister Malfoy might have footed the bill, it had been after a great deal of debate.
It took two houselves to carry the long box in, and they struggled getting it over their heads and onto the table. It landed in front of her with a thud. She looked up at Draco, questioning.
"Er—Merry Christmas. Go ahead, open it."
She tore into the wrapping—a thick, green foil dressed with silver ribbons—until there was nothing left but a long, black box, blank save tiny gold lettering in one corner. It read, "Miss Elizabeth Lee" and, beneath it, "Maelstrom 260."
Immediately she knew what it was. She jiggled the lid of the box fiercely, and it fell open, revealing a slender and elegant racing broom.
"Oh, Draco" was all she could manage. Taking it in her hands, she lifted it from the box, watching the light dance off its polished cherrywood handle. It was surprisingly light.
"It's a Maelstrom," he said, wadding up the paper and handing it to a waiting houself. "The French team was using them at the World Cup this year. Granted those were 1000 models, and this is a 260, but it's a good broom. Especially for light-weight flyers or--"
She was holding it upside down, examining the bristled end while he listed the Maelstrom's many advantages over other popular models – the Clean Sweep, the Nimbus, the Firebolt. "I've got a Maelstrom 800 myself. It blows the old Nimbuses out of the water. And Potter's Firebolt, well, it's no match for taking those tight upturns."
Of course, Lili couldn't appreciate any of the nuances, but she was, nonetheless, excited to have her own broom.
"And, you know, part of this gift is those flying lessons," Draco said, clearly doing his best to ignore everyone else. "I thought since we have a long holiday, we could start practicing out on the Manor grounds. You're going to be--"
"I don't know if my son is the proper person to give you flying lessons: he hasn't exactly proven himself in any real games as yet…or against any real opponents…"
Every person at the table, save the Malfoys, seemed to squirm and fidget with their silverware. Draco remained turned toward Lili but could no longer bring himself to smile.
Seeing his face sink, Lili felt a rush she had not thought possible since arriving at the Manor earlier that day. It was a rush of courage. "Actually, sir, I've seen him play several games. He's an excellent Seeker. Definitely more skill than Potter, if not as much luck." She made sure her eyes touched on Mister Malfoy's flinty gaze, if only briefly. "I'd be honored to have Draco show me the basics." Her heart was beating madly, but, seeing Draco relax slightly, she was able to steady herself enough to heft the broom back in its box and look up with a stoutness she hadn't been able to muster before.
"Well, perhaps the basics."
Patricia Parkinson stood, looking eager to relieve the tension. "Now, Narcissa, you were going to show me that lovely new carpet in the parlor."
"Oh—oh yes," Mrs. Malfoy said absently. "Yes, why don't we go and have a look, shall we? While the boys have their fun." She floated up from her chair, her long, thin body gently outlined in soft firelight. "Lili, would you like to come? It's a beautiful new carpet. We've imported it straight from Persia and—"
"Um, I'm sorry, Mrs. Malfoy," she interrupted quietly, standing and taking the Maelstrom in hand. "I'm awfully tired. Draco and I were out rather late last night at the Yule Ball, and the day's journey has taken its toll. Perhaps you could show me tomorrow."
Patricia Parkinson sniffed disapprovingly, but Mrs. Malfoy merely nodded, light bouncing off her blonde hair with a wild sheen. "Yes, of course. I understand. There will be plenty of time, my dear. Geeti can show you back up to your room."
"Thank you. It's been a pleasure to meet you all." She hoped her voice had not shaken under the pressure of the lie.
Draco stood, pulling out her chair a bit farther. "Yes. And perhaps we can start those flying lessons tomorrow."
For the first time since the start of dinner, she felt the warmth of a genuine smile on her lips. "I'd love to. Just come and get me when you're ready."
The small and familiar face of Geeti had appeared beside her and was looking up, large eyes blinking eagerly. "Right this way, Miss."
Lili afforded only one more smile to Draco and then, quickly as possible, followed the houself out of the Dining Hall, wondering how she would find the strength to endure weeks more of such awkward meetings.
Perhaps, she hoped, they'll get better. Yes, she would get used to things. She was merely overreacting because of Snape. She had seen nothing so far to give her reason to feel anxious. Draco and his father had rather chilly relations, but that was not altogether uncommon, she supposed. Hell, her own father didn't even want to see her for Christmas. No, things weren't really so bad. Just awkward, as all new situations are at first. And, for a supposed Death Eater, Mister Malfoy certainly was generous.
Her eyes flickered over to Geeti who was walking amazingly quickly for someone with such short legs.
And the houself had said he was a good man. What could that mean?
A yawn pushed its way out of her.
"Miss is tired. Geeti will make Miss some warm milk to help her get good sleep."
"No, you don't need to go to the trouble. I've got some books to read: should do the trick."
They had reached the guest room door, and the houself turned, looking affronted. "No, Miss-- it is no trouble. Serving Miss is no trouble to no one. Geeti is knowing what Miss is needing. I will bring it right up."
"Uh, thank you, Geeti," Lili said, not wishing to offend the poor creature any further. "I will be sure to tell Mister and Mrs. Malfoy how attentive you've been."
This seemed to cheer her up, and the houself skipped rather than scurried away.
It took her only a few seconds to slip out of her robes and into pajamas. The bed was as cool and exquisite as before, and she let herself settle back into several goose-down pillows, Snape's books propped up against her folded legs. She sipped at the warm milk Geeti brought and began flipping through the first few pages of Complex Concoctions, examining a diagram of unicorn parts useful as potion ingredients.
She had read almost fifty pages before she grew tired. It was difficult to read potion texts without actually being able to mix anything, to smell it or hear it or feel the thrill of everything combining just as it should. In short, it was boring. She put the book aside with a resolve to look it over later.
She peeled back the cover of the second book, Notes from Underground, wondering at its ragged state. The pages smelled much like the dungeons at Hogwarts: she was actually almost certain she could smell the lingering scent of Snape's hands on the covers, as if he had held it many long hours. Pulling it wide so that the spine of the book creaked, she began to read.
I am a mean man…I am a spiteful man. I am an unattractive man.
Words rolled past her eyes, pages turned, as she examined every line closely, but most especially the ones Snape had seen fit to underline or scrawl beside.
I'm terribly proud. I'm as mistrustful and as sensitive as a hunchback or a dwarf; but in truth, I've experienced some moments when, if someone had slapped my face, I might even have been grateful for it.
She paused. It sounded familiar; she could almost hear his voice speaking the words.
The narrator reminisced about his past: his lonliness, his timidity, his nagging inability to make any clear decisions about anything. About a blustering and well-loved character by whose name Snape had scribbled only one word: HIM. And, finally, about the narrator's complete inability to express his feelings to a woman named Liza. Here Snape had written something, but scratched through it heavily and deliberately. Lili couldn't help wondering.
My life was gloomy, disordered, and solitary to the point of savagery. I didn't associate with anyone; I even avoided talking, and I retreated further and further into my corner. I was a coward and a slave. I did become friends with others; I began to visit their houses, drink vodka, talk of promotions. The devil only knows what habit can do to a person. But on the whole, I was alone.
Cleverly and nobly, I blamed myself for everything. It was as if the skin had been stripped away from my body so that even wafts of air caused pain.
Every man has within his own reminiscences certain things he doesn't reveal to anyone, except, perhaps, to his friends. There are also some that he won't reveal even to his friends, only to himself perhaps, and even then, in secret. Finally, there are some which a man is afraid to reveal even to himself.
Love is God's mystery and should be hidden from other people's eyes, no matter what happens.
The words echoed in Lili's ears, though no one had spoken them. She was vaguely aware of a slight trembling in her hands.
She gave me some water while looking at me like a lost soul. "Liza, do you despise me?" I asked, looking her straight in the eye, trembling with impatience to find out what she thought. She was embarrassed and didn't know what to say. But I never could have guessed she'd come to love me. "This means everything!" I whispered in a feverish haste. "You may think she's…But you've no idea who this woman really is!"
But even in my underground dreams I couldn't conceive of love as anything but a struggle. Real life oppressed me. I was angry at myself, but it was she who'd pay naturally.
"Liza!" I cried more loudly. But she had gone. I felt horribly oppressed. I stood before her crushed, humiliated, abominably ashamed.
There was a brief moment in which she felt she shouldn't read any further. She was no longer reading a story. He was speaking to her, and she could see him, hear his voice, sifting the words through silk and vinegar. She swallowed hard and kept reading.
But these are all golden dreams. Oh, the squalor, the stupidity, the narrowness of these filthy, sentimental souls! Even though the mind is working, the heart has been blackened by depravity, and without a pure heart, there can be no full, genuine love! Perhaps I've really suffered, but I don't respect my own suffering. "I am alone, and they are everyone." They won't let me…I can't be…good.
The more conscious I was of what was good, the more deeply I sank into the morass. It was as if it all had to be so. It was as if this were my most normal condition, not an illness, so that finally I even lost the desire to struggle against it.
I gnaw and gnaw at myself inwardly, secretly, nagging away, consuming myself until finally bitterness turns into some kind of shameful, accursed sweetness. The pleasure results precisely from the feeling that one has reached the limit; that it is disgusting, but couldn't be otherwise; you have no other choice—you can never become a different person…
Of course, moments later, I would realize in anger that it was all lies, lies, revolting, made-up lies, that is, all that repentance and the tenderness, all those vows to mend my ways. Just look around: rivers of blood are being spilt: and in the most cheerful way, as if it were champagne.
Haven't you noticed that the most refined bloodshedders are almost always the most refined gentlemen?
Lili's mind flickered briefly and almost subconsciously to Lucius Malfoy.
I didn't understand. I am disguising my feelings with sarcasm; that is usually the last resort of people who are timid and chaste of heart, whose souls have been coarsely and impudently invaded; and who, until the last moment, refuse to yield out of pride and are afraid to express their own feelings to you.
She read the last words again. To you. It was these words that forced her to close the book. It was as if, somehow, he was…
She was shaken by the wish to never have opened the book, and tucked it beneath her pillow, uncomfortable.
Her heart was full, and the warm milk began to seize her body.
She heard Snape's voice, low. I am disguising my feelings with sarcasm; that is usually the last resort of people who are timid and chaste of heart, whose souls have been coarsely and impudently invaded…
She wondered vaguely who had invaded. She pictured him, at Hogwarts, bent over some simmering cauldron, oily and covered in gloom. Remembering his eyes, she fit pieces of the words into them, trying to produce some clear picture…yanjing hei, linian hei…
Why in the world had he given this thing to her? One book would have been a sufficient gift. Why this one too? She laid back, thinking.
She could imagine a certain amount of release in being able to tell someone, but she hadn't known him long—and she was a student besides. The only other explanation was he thought she needed to know: if he thought she—
But her mind sighed in exhaustion and she gave into sleep, fingers wound deep in the pages that smelled of his hands.