Chapter Three
Little by little, I fell in love with reading. Tiny, insignificant seeming words were more powerful than any magic I had ever possessed. Capable of conjuring the most vivid of scenes and imaginations and possessing my mind in moral quandary and excitement. And it came to be the night before the first society meeting to attend. I decided resolutely not to attend.
It would not be proper, I said to myself, for a group of women to be alone with an unmarried man. Should someone see us, their reputations could be called into question. I convinced myself, I think, that I was doing this for their benefit. It seemed to be for the best. Perhaps, I thought, I could ask to borrow my mother's collection and read what she had in isolation. I was resolute in determining this to be the best course of action, and nothing could sway my mind from the truth.
But fate, or perhaps iron human determination, had other plans.
In the middle of the night, I woke with a start to find my balcony doors pulled wide open. White curtains flailed in the wild, cold wind, and as I sat up to grope for my wand to shut and lock them, I paused. I felt, rather than saw, someone watching me. The hangings around my bed were parted just enough to see the open door and the milky splash on moonlight on the hardwood floors, but I could not see anything else.
As I was about to take my wand from the end table, there was a flash of hot white light and it rolled off the edge away from me and onto the floor with a clatter. No one had ever burglarized the Malfoy manor—I was quite certain there were protection charms my father placed along the entire property and all its acres, so intruders seemed highly unlikely, and yet clearly someone was here.
A shadow fell over the parting in my bed hangings and the black silk rippled as it was ripped open. Candlelight glow washed over me suddenly, and I saw shadows surrounding my bed, each holding a spindly white and blue flame in both palms, held at their chest level.
The only one I recognized was Miss Black from the silvery cape draped over her head and down her body, the pale blonde of her braid cascading down her shoulder.
I heard the whizz of a spell and each of the shadows erupted into silver too at the burst of light, their capes turning effervescent in the moonlight.
I swallowed the terrified lump in my throat and leaned against the pillows.
"What—what is this?" I asked, my throat hoarse.
"Why, it is our literary society meeting," Miss Black replied, "You don't want to be late, Mr. Malfoy."
"No, I did not attend," I argued, "You said it was at eight-thirty—in the evening, earlier than tonight."
"Did I?" Miss Black replied, her voice high and cold, "Silly me, I meant one thirty in the morning. We're a secret society, after all, we cannot coincide with an evening game of whist."
I stammered, at a loss for what to do or say. "H-How did you even get in here? You're in my bedroom—I'm afraid I am not dressed for this sort of thing."
Miss Black moved away from the four poster she was leaning against. "We can wait for you to dress. Meet us in the garden in ten minutes."
They shuffled off to the balcony. Some of the women took wild leaps off the edge and then charmed themselves to drop light as a feather to the bottom. But I watched Miss Black descend by scaling the stone wall, as if she preferred the effort rather than the showmanship of magic.
Hastily, I dressed in my closet room in an all black suit and slipped a pair of wingtip Oxford boots on. Instead of climbing from my balcony (which I had never done) I went out properly and took the stairs. Soon, I was out in the south garden where the other women were milling in small groups and talking. Miss Black was leaning against the trunk of tree with her arms folded when I opened the veranda door and went off the stairs to the garden pathway.
"Follow us," she commanded.
I did as I was told reflexively. Part of me was disappointed in my immediate acceptance of her demands and leadership, but still I followed. We left the garden gate in single file, as the trail was so narrow it would allow, maximum, two people to walk side by side. As I had no one to walk with which I was intimately acquainted, and as I had no set standard of etiquette in this situation, I lagged behind them and watched them carrying lanterns with blue and white flames, as they followed the path like they knew precisely where they were going.
After walking for what I could estimate to be a little under a kilometre, Miss Black veered off to the right, and her members turned with her to an even smaller trail. I knew the shallow parts of our woods very well, but I had never ventured into the depths. We walked for twenty minutes or more until we came to a small clearing. This was perhaps only large enough to fit ten people if they stood fingertips to fingertips, their wingspans spread wide. And along the outer ring of this clearing were bright white flowers in full bloom, their petals turned toward the bright and cheerful moon.
The women placed their iron lanterns along the outer edges of the clearing. They unclasped their silver cloaks and spread them onto the ground and sat upon them. Miss Black sat atop an overturned and flat grey stone at the front of where they were gathering into a circle.
Seeing that I had no cloak, Miss Black unclasped hers from her throat. She slipped the hood off of her hair and then unravelled the cloak away from her body. Her arm outstretched to me to give it to me, and numbly I took it, having no notion of what else to do. I placed it upon the ground and closed the circle the other women had made and drew my legs up to my chest after I sat down.
Miss Black was wearing a men's suit. It took me some time for my eyes to adjust to the blue flickering light, but once I had, it was the first thing I noticed. Braids and sewn in pearls adorned her hair once more, but she was wearing a finely tailored suit. The other women were in various black dresses of many fashions and styles.
I watched them talk amongst themselves at first. The women near me were complaining about stinging nettles their cloaks were caught in on the way here. That was, until Miss Black cleared her throat and everyone fell into a hush. I saw them take out their own copies of Frankenstein as Miss Black had, and she began to read from a placed marked in her book.
"Even broken in spirit as he is, no one can feel more deeply than he does the beauties of nature. The starry sky, the sea, and every sight afforded by these wonderful regions, seems still to have the power of elevating his soul from earth," Miss Black narrated, "Such a man has a double existence: he may suffer misery, and be overwhelmed by disappointments; yet, when he has retired into himself, he will be like a celestial spirit that has a halo around him, within whose circle no grief or folly ventures."
They took turns then, reading with varying levels of passions and styles, until everyone who had wished to read a passage from the novel had done so. I remained quiet, having not been able to bring my own novel in the suddenness of my inclusion, but I also preferred to observe. It seemed that might have been my role, too, as Miss Black asked questions of some of the other women, but she never touched upon my own opinion. I felt distinctly that I was meant to watch but not interfere, and so I did, as each lady remarked upon the themes of the novel, literary devices the authoress used to convey meaning or plot.
"I believe Mary Shelley must have been a witch," Miss Mara Parkinson said, "The weather mirroring the mood of the scene or foreshadowing bits of plot? It would make sense that as a witch, she would know major acts of dark magic can alter weather patterns."
And this struck an argument up, where several ladies passionately worded their sentences in such ways as to not call Miss Mara Parkinson stupid, but to obliterate her argument entirely. Quieter vocalizations came of agreement that the authoress could have potentially been a witch, and thus is was determined that anything was likely, one way or another.
The lantern lights were so low I could only just make out their faces, but I knew some of their voices well enough. These ladies were commonly chattering of ribbons and lace, silk dresses and buttons. When I danced with them in ballrooms, they would describe (albeit with great detail) their mansions, their pianoforte playing, some new baby niece or sister or something of the sort. I had never heard them argue so succinctly and rationally; these women had memorized entire scenes and quoted them without the use of their book, they gave their opinions very freely and with as much enthusiasm or anger as they wished.
I had never seen such things in my life. It was as if I was privy to a lens where I saw the other half of my society for the first time, having been stumbling around blindly. It occurred to me then that I was to marry one of them, and the very idea ran a cold chill through me. I had no idea who these people even were. And I was to one day call one of them wife.
As the discussions dwindled to off topic conversations, of other books and society things like dresses or memories in Hogwarts, Miss Black caught my eye and stood up.
"The next book will be different," she announced, her lips twitching, "Perhaps a bit more on the nose for us than we usually like, but I promise not to disappoint you too much. It will be Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. Let me know if you cannot procure the book."
The ladies sat up and pulled their cloaks about them. I followed their moves and placed Miss Black's over my arm. She bade each woman goodbye but did not make any movement to leave herself, and thus I remained after they had gone. I watched them with their silver cloaks and blue flamed lanterns as they receded into the forest until they were just tiny blinks of light. And soon, there was only darkness.
"Have we interested you enough yet?" Miss Black asked.
"It's quite a shock, I have to say," I admitted.
She took her cloak from my arm and swung it about her shoulders, then clasped it upon her throat. I noticed, as she was near me, that she had even worn a tie fashioned into a proper Windsor knot. And cufflinks, as well, were on her sleeve. Small pearls that matched those in her hair.
"Oh, well, yes, that's well enough what every initiate says. The women we procure into the group usually don't have the courage to even read the novels for the first four meetings," she said, "As a man, I think, you have little fear of corrupting your mind with such things."
I turned toward her. "How would a book corrupt my mind?"
She leaned forward and patted me hard in the centre of my chest. "They are quite harmless, Mr. Malfoy, as you may have already guessed. No book will inspire you to have a change of heart, or soul, or to look at the word with greater empathy or logic."
Her voice was calm and still and forthright, but I knew from my own experience with the books I read that she was being sarcastic.
"If you would wish to properly join," she said, "You would have to go through the initiation. Mind you, it is not for the faint of heart."
We walked through the pattern of trodden ferns and leaves the others had left and so avoided the dreaded stinging nettles I had heard them complaining about. White and pearly ghosts of flower blossoms were popping up all over the forest, shrouding the ground in an eerie glow.
They were moonflowers.
"Miss Black, I do not know if I am your intended demographic for such a thing," I said.
"You're a member by birth right," she responded immediately, "Your mother founded the society, and so you are allowed to be a member. Regardless of your unfortunate gender."
"Unfortunate—"
The words were barely out of my mouth before Miss Black began a barking sort of laugh that was so contagious I felt myself laughing too.
"Besides," she said, sobering suddenly, "We have two openings to fill."
"Why?" I asked.
"Well," Miss Black said, clearing her throat softly, "There is the replacement of my sister, Mrs. Rodolphus Lestrange and my other sister, Miss Andromeda Black, who has been missing for quite some time."
I should not have asked, because I should have known. Miss Black said as much when I first met her, when I blundered through her name. I felt a strange sense of foreboding when Miss Black mentioned the middle child, Andromeda Black. How was one just simply missing? Was she lost to them forever because she was a blood traitor, or had something actually happened to her? Women in our society did not often go missing—they did not befall violent crimes. They could not—they were so well chaperoned.
Idly, I thought of what I had just seen tonight. Perhaps they were not as watched as carefully as I imagined them to be.
"I see. And the others," I said, "They are not intimidated?"
Miss Black tried to suppress the smirk that enveloped her lips, but she couldn't. "Mr. Malfoy, I don't think you should need to worry about intimidating anyone in our group. I think it is much more likely you'll find yourself to be the victim of such an emotion."
I had very little doubt in her being right.
"Very well then," I told her, "I accept the invitation."
Miss Black stopped on the wooded trail and looked at me. She held out her hand suddenly, and I stared at it for a moment. Her palms and fingers were turned to the side, held out like a man's for a handshake. I had only ever curled the fingers of a young woman's hand over my own and kissed either her knuckles of back of her hand. I had never shaken a woman's hand as I would a man. The brief flicker of hesitation in me was noticeable by Miss Black, who did not waiver in stance, but a smile appeared on her face.
I took her hand in mine then and shook it as I would a man, and she seemed pleased enough by this.
"Do you talk about fashion with your friends, Mr. Malfoy?" she asked me, as she began to walk the trail again.
"Not often," I admitted.
"I only ask because I wondered if you appreciated my suit," Miss Black replied, "I thought you might have an eye for such things, seeing as yours are always quite immaculate and expertly tailored."
"I suppose you went to Madame Malkin's?" I asked, "She personally crafts all of my attire. She's the best in England; of course there are a few in Paris I might prefer, but they don't allow as many alterations as I would like."
"I did, in fact," she said, "She was quite surprised, but made many adjustments for me. For example…see this?"
She stopped and turned toward me and flashed her jacket open. The inside of her jacket was satin lined, though I could not see the colour under the blanket of darkness. She held a lantern up so that I could see. It was crimson coloured, and the inside had an inside pocket large enough to fit a book inside of it.
"She charmed it to be obscured from any angle," she said, "So no one can see I am carrying something as bulky as a book from the outside or if I open it. I have three novels in here; you would never know. Quite impressive, isn't it?"
"Yes," I replied, and wondered vaguely if I could get her to do the same for all of mine.
She dropped her jacket and rolled the sleeve up. There was a small band securing her wand just up her sleeve, but it allowed it to stay in place all the time.
"Such innovations are not done with dresses," she exclaimed quite excitedly. "Although there are drawbacks. It took me nearly two hours to get this tie straight."
"That's because it is all silk," I replied, "If you wish to purchase silk, do not get the most expensive one. Purchase the one below it. It is a silk front with a cotton backing, so it retains its shape better and is easier to manipulate."
Miss Black touched the one at her throat and nodded. "And here I thought men knew nothing about such things as they never speak of them. You are a wealth of knowledge, Mr. Malfoy."
"I assure you," I said, "I know a good deal of a properly fitted suit, a tie or cravat, but I do not know anything about women's fashions, of which I am aware you have more to deal with."
"Corsets aren't so difficult to tie," she replied, "The first time I wore one, I was extremely intimidated. And it took me quite a long time to learn to breathe and move around, but it is not impossible. We should not marvel so after our differences, but seek to understand them. Do you agree, Mr. Malfoy?"
No. In truth, I had never once considered things from any other point of view but my own. I did not read fiction; I read to learn magic or to enhance a skill I already possessed.
"Yes," I replied, as saying anything to the contrary would have been impolite and easily misconstrued.
We reached the garden wall and the gate. I opened it and Miss Black followed, though she would have needed to leave from the north entrance if she wished to Apparate, lest she tempt fate by journeying through several days' worth of forest to get to the end of the Malfoy property line from the south side.
"If you think your friend might be interested—Mr. Nott," Miss Black said quietly, "Invite him, if you wish. Though I recommend waiting. Pride and Prejudice may be just the very book to scare him off—it has marriage."
"I'm a little upset you spoiled it for me," I retorted.
She laughed, and it reverberated around the quiet of the garden like a bell ringing. "I didn't tell you which marriage, there is more than one."
"I believe he may be less frightened of marriage than he would be Frankenstein's monster, most assuredly," I replied.
Although, in truth, I had little knowledge of the inner workings of Theodore Nott's mind. No one really knew anyone, of this I was sure now that I had seen what I had. This is not meant to be a detraction or a sad observation upon humanity. No; in fact there is a freedom in being able to wander along the catacombs of your own mind and not be intruded upon by others less inclined toward understanding it.
We parted ways at this, and I climbed into bed just before dawn, both exhausted and energized at the same time, though I could not say which things excited me more: the prospect of another novel, or Miss Black's approval.