A/N: Okay so I realize I am VERY behind on this story, as you all know by now that my "Christmas/Holiday" chapters usually line up with Christmas time irl. The next chapter is supposed to be the "holiday" chapter which in this series usually means mass destruction not holiday cheer lol, but still. There are only 4 chapters left in this entire series so please bear with me because it's about to pick up FAST. Hopefully I can get the next chapter out soon, since these last 4 chapters are the ones I've literally been thinking about since 2013 when I first started writing as a middle schooler (aka why I always cringe when I see people leaving reviews on the first book, Dark Prince, because YES I AM AWARE it's not good at all. In my defense, I was literally 12 when I wrote it lol)
Again, I want to thank everyone for keeping with my absolutely terrible update schedule! We've spent almost an entire decade together if you think about it, so I really appreciate all of you and your endless support.
As always, please enjoy the chapter, and don't forget to review/like!
Chapter Side Note: I am aware your wife's sister's husband is technically not your brother-in-law, but I just refer to it that way so I wrote it that way!
Slytherin Common Room [October 31st]
"Gin," Astoria Greengrass poked her best friend in the arm, "You're glaring again."
Ginevra Weasley blinked, shaking her fiery hair back as though she were pushing a troubling thought out of her mind. She licked her suddenly dry lips. "I was not."
"Benjamin asked you if you wanted another drink four times," The other girl informed her with a knowing smirk. "You didn't even reply, so he went off to refill your glass anyways. Very eager to please, that one."
Ginevra shrugged, tapping her crimson-painted nail on the edge of the chaise she was seated on. Against her will, she felt her gaze drawn again to the tall, dark-haired wizard standing on the other side of the room, holding court as if this were another one of the pureblood family balls her classmates frequented. There were a handful of stunning witches all around him, practically draping off his arm and pushing each other to get closer.
She rolled her eyes, forcing herself to turn away and accept the drink her classmate slid into her expectant hand. What was that Italian Lothario trying to prove, anyways?
She had figured him out years ago. Practically the second her eyes fell on his sickeningly handsome face, she knew she had to stay far away from his type. Blaise Zabini saw life as a game. His eyes lit up in amusement at every awful joke he heard, he sampled every pretty witch that crossed his path like she was nothing more than a prop in his life–for Merlin's sake he couldn't even be serious to save his own life.
They came from different worlds. Her life revolved around the intrinsic need to survive. She had gotten herself sorted into Slytherin to survive Hadrian Riddle and whatever the fuck he was doing to charm or terrify the world to join his side. She had cut ties with half her family to survive their disgusted looks and careless remarks thrown her way.
Even now at the impromptu Halloween party the devil himself had thrown–she was constantly on high alert. Slytherin house parties were just a watered-down version of the older generation's trumped-up galas. People always gossiped, drank too much, danced too much, constantly tried to outdo each other, etc.
She was only here because it was expected of her as one of the most popular witches in her class. And because Astoria wanted to come, though it wasn't like she was having a good time either. Every time Astoria even gravitated towards the drinks table; her sister's fiancé shot her a warning glare that had her stomping away with a frustrated growl.
"Just because he's marrying Daphne doesn't mean he can act like my bloody father," Astoria continued to grumble under her breath. "I'm sixteen, I can handle a little firewhiskey-laced punch."
"You got sloshed at your sister's engagement party and almost knocked over an entire row of ice sculptures," Benjamin pointed out with a grin. "Gin and I had to half carry you back to your room before anyone else noticed."
"Did I say you could call me that?" Ginevra took an absentminded sip of her drink as she tried her best to pay attention to their conversation.
"Sorry Ginevra," The other boy hurried to say, chuckling nervously. "I was just trying to tell Astoria she should stick to the butterbeer."
"Hadrian doesn't give a rat's arse about that," Astoria crossed her arms in indignation. "I'll bet he was only worried that Daphne would be upset that I ruined her night." She glanced over at where her sister was standing across the room, "Though I think Daphne wouldn't have even noticed if half the ballroom fell through a sinkhole–she was too dreamy-eyed over the whole engagement."
"Speaking of engagements," Benjamin Travers smiled, "My father has been pushing me to look for a bride soon," His chest puffed out slightly as he added, "You know how important it is for our noble line to continue."
"Not it," Astoria muttered under her breath, getting up abruptly to make another effort at the punchbowl.
"I wasn't going to ask you," He sneered after her. His hopeful gaze panned over to Ginevra and if possible, his smile widened even further. "I had someone else in mind." He turned to face her, lifting her hand to press a chaste kiss to her fingertips. "I told my father all about you, Ginevra Weasley."
Ginevra raised a brow, pulling her hand away to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. "And why would you do that, Travers? I don't recall granting you permission to approach your father."
"Gin–" He swallowed hard upon seeing the flash in her eyes and quickly corrected himself, "Ginevra. I was just thinking a marriage between us would be mutually beneficial. Despite your rather unfortunate upbringing, you come from a pure family and you're one of the smartest witches in our class."
She traced a drop of condensation from her glass, resisting the urge to stiffen when Benjamin brought up her family. Instead, she leaned back in her seat with a sigh, "You're boring me, Travers. I don't see what I'm getting out of this arrangement."
"Well," Travers frowned, "My family is in the Sacred 28. A union between us would be–"
"Wasting my time," Ginevra rolled her eyes, moving to stand up.
She was planning on meeting Astoria where she stood halfway across the room when Benjamin grabbed her wrist, "Look, there's no use pretending anymore." He immediately dropped her arm when she turned to shoot him a scathing look. "We both have to get married sometime in the next six years, so why not?"
"Why not?" Ginevra repeated, making a face as though the very words disgusted her. "You want to get engaged because 'why not'?"
"I don't want some insipid little wife that cares more about the latest designer shoes than power," Benjamin pursed his lips. "We've been friends for years, Ginevra. We understand each other. Once you have our required heir, I can focus on my career at the Ministry and you can do whatever you'd like, I wouldn't dream of stopping you. It's a very convenient arrangement."
"Convenient," She ran her tongue over her teeth in contemplation. "What makes you think I want a marriage of convenience?"
"Don't you?" Benjamin frowned, genuinely puzzled by her words. "We're cut from the same cloth, Weasley. We care more about our own ambitions than about the other people in our life. Why settle for anything less?" He ran a nervous hand through his sandy blond hair, "Just promise me you'll at least think about my proposal. That's all I ask."
Ginevra gave him a curt nod and stepped away, walking across the room to the drinks table in a few quick strides. She barely glanced up when Astoria called out to her, choosing instead to keep her head down in an effort to avoid meeting the eye of the infuriating wizard that took up more space in her mind than she cared for.
Unfortunately, fate was not on her side as she poured herself a glass of the bright green punch and started to chug the burning liquid down as fast as it would go. The sound of a throat clearing startled her, and she nearly gasped as she choked on the punch. A heavy hand smacked her back and she sputtered when her airway suddenly cleared, and a rush of air flooded her burning lungs.
"Don't worry, I tend to take most people's breath away," Blaise Zabini smirked down at her as he began to trace small circles on her back with the hand he had yet to remove. "It's a perfectly normal reaction."
"You," She breathed, narrowing her eyes.
"Yes, me," Blaise repeated, mimicking her tone with a grin. "Hello, Weasley. Fancy seeing you here. Have you agreed to be mine yet?"
Ginevra choked for the second time that minute, this time on his audacity. She opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off.
"Careful," His eyes darkened as he glanced at her, "I bet those lips would be so much sweeter if they were wrapped around something other than your endless curses for me."
"You disgust me," She hissed at him. "Go back to your harem of slags."
"Don't be jealous, amore," He tried to cup her face, but she batted his hands away. Undeterred, he leaned down to brush his lips against her ear and whispered, "You should know they mean nothing to me. Just say the words I want to hear, Ginevra. You can make them all disappear."
"That's a good line," She smiled up at him. "Make sure to write that one down, so you can feed it to the next witch stupid enough to fall for you."
She pushed his shoulder and started to walk away, but then he grabbed her wrist and yanked her back so forcefully, she almost stumbled over her own feet. "What in Merlin's name–"
"What part of 'You're enough' did you not understand, Weasley?" He growled, snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her so close, she could see something unfamiliar flicker in his gaze. The easy-going smile he wore earlier had disappeared completely, fading into something far darker she had never seen in him.
She swallowed hard. "I don't trust you, Zabini. All we do is hurt each other. Haven't you had enough?"
"Apparently not," He stared at her heatedly. "You can hurt me as much as you'd like, Weasley. I've discovered it doesn't change the fact that I still want you." He stepped closer and lowered his voice to a whisper, "All of you."
"Tough," She sneered at him. "I want nothing to do with you."
Blaise raised a brow. "I don't believe you, Ginevra."
He brushed his thumb over her cheekbone and leaned down. He was so close that she could feel his breath ghost across her lips, causing her cheeks to flush a dark shade of pink. She thought for a split second he would kiss her, but then he simply tapped her nose and straightened back up with a smug grin.
"I'm not going to listen to a word that falls from these pretty lips, Weasley. Your mouth is a liar, but the rest of you is painfully transparent." He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and asked casually. "Do you think marrying some bloke like Travers will give you even a fraction of the same feeling? He has the personality of room temperature water."
Her mouth dropped open in disbelief. "How did you–"
"I hear everything that goes on in this room, Weasley. It's my party, after all." He stepped back from her and smiled, but there was no warmth behind it. "I'll be waiting for you to come to your senses, witch."
Ginevra clenched her jaw into a hard line. "You'll be waiting forever then, Zabini." She turned to face him, "I don't do sloppy seconds."
She shoved his chest and pushed past him, making a beeline towards the staircase that led down to the dormitories. Her chest rose and fell in sharp pants as she hurried down the steps, nearly colliding with someone as they climbed up from the opposite direction.
"Oh, I'm sorry…" Ginevra began to apologize, only to trail off as she squinted at the other person half obscured by the flashing lights in the room. "Daphne?"
"Ginevra!" The older girl brightened, "Where are you going in such a hurry?"
"I–," Ginevra flailed her hands half-heartedly, "I just wanted to go to bed early. It seems I have a headache all of a sudden."
"That's too bad, I hope you had a chance to enjoy the party at least a little bit." Daphne smiled softly, "Blaise did a great job, didn't he?"
"I, uh–" Ginevra paused, just barely catching the calculating look that flashed across the pretty blonde's face. She sighed, "Alright, how much of that did you hear, Daphne?"
"Not much. I was just passing by to use the powder room when I saw you two," Daphne hummed, dropping the charade of nonchalance completely. "I can't say I've ever seen Blaise pour out his heart to someone. It's interesting, at the very least."
Ginerva groaned. "I did not drink enough to have this conversation, Daphne." She tried to step around the witch and continue down the steps, but the older witch blocked her path.
"Look, I don't have much time before Hadrian gets impatient and comes down looking for me," Daphne began quietly, "But I just wanted to ask that you not judge Blaise too harshly. He's an arrogant prick–I'm afraid they all are–but he runs deeper than you'd think, Ginevra."
The redhead scoffed, "I doubt there's a single serious thought in that pretty head of his. Everything is a game to him, and I'm not interested in being another irrelevant piece he can control."
"Have you looked at him?" Daphne raised a brow. "And I mean, really looked at him?"
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Blaise constantly surrounds himself with people," The other witch tapped her fingertips on the bannister and a small frown creased at her brows. "Have you ever wondered why?"
"Because he's a shameless flirt and feeds off attention?"
"While that's not entirely false," Daphne bit her lip to hold back a smile, "Blaise is one of my closest friends. It's not exactly my place to be telling you this. All I can do is pose the question and suggest you pay closer attention to find the answer for yourself."
"Daphne!" The unmistakable voice of Hadrian Riddle called down the staircase, followed by the sounded of thudding footsteps. "You said we only had to make an appearance and then we could go back to…" He trailed off sharply when he noticed her standing on the steps. His lips curved into a slight smirk, "Why if it isn't little Ginny Weasley."
"Hadrian," Daphne maneuvered past her on the staircase and lightly smacked his shoulder, "Don't be rude."
"I'm simply saying hello," He shoved his hands in his pockets, unphased. He cleared his throat and wrapped an arm around the blonde's waist, "Are you two done? Daphne has something better to do, I'm afraid."
"I was just leaving," The pretty witch rolled her eyes, allowing Hadrian to steer her away.
"Wait," Ginevra blurted out, quickly climbing the few steps between them to reach the top of the stairs. "You can't say all that and not explain. What am I supposed to pay attention to? I can't–I can't keep playing these games, Daphne."
Daphne turned around slowly, ignoring Hadrian's curious expression. Her dark blue eyes turned solemn as she asked, "Have you noticed that he's never really alone, Ginevra?" When she didn't respond, Daphne continued with a sigh. "Blaise is always around us and our friends, or some other witch that's his newest flavor of the week."
Ginevra wrinkled her nose, "I'm painfully aware of that."
"I don't think you are." Daphne let her gaze stray over to the wizard in question. He was clearly in the midst of retelling some ridiculous story, because it had Neville snorting into his glass in amusement. "People like that only care about making others happy. They practically thrive on it. They try to bury their true feelings under layers of a superficial personality, but it doesn't erase them from existence."
"I-I don't understand."
"And you won't," The other girl murmured. "Not until you see past this illusion he's created to draw others in. Underneath all of that, he has a good heart, Ginevra. He doesn't deserve to keep getting hurt."
"How would I hurt him?" She shot back, "I can't break his heart if he doesn't possess one. He doesn't care about me. I'm just a new toy he'll eventually break and toss aside."
"I hope you don't really believe that," Daphne shook her head. "Blaise would do anything for the people he loves. Even if it means hiding behind a bright smile and horribly timed joke. You've always been smart enough to see through his charms, Ginevra, but do you care enough to dig deeper than that?"
Diagon Alley [November 12th]
"Did you see the press briefing about the new wizarding orphanage earlier this week?" Narcissa asked as she swirled the white wine in her glass, deep in thought. "The Wizengamot just granted approval to subsize their funding."
"No," Lily Potter replied evenly. "My landlady doesn't allow me to receive the Daily Prophet, so unfortunately I am quite behind on current events."
Narcissa Malfoy's lips quirked up into a ghost of a smile, though she didn't tear her gaze away from the menu in her other hand. "How terrible," She murmured. She shut the menu and placed it back onto the table, "I'll have the fruit tarte for dessert. What are you thinking?"
"You don't want to know what I'm thinking," Lily muttered, dropping the menu back onto her plate with a soft thud. "It has nothing to do with dessert."
"Lily," Narcissa began in a quiet, almost chiding tone. "My assistant worked very hard to get a table at La Soliel. This is not the time, nor the place for another scene of yours."
Lily Potter pursed her lips in indignation, though she remained silent at the rebuke from the other woman. She scanned the street outside the restaurant, watching the crowd of people hurrying around, eager to get through their errands for the day. They were too busy with their own lives to notice the pleading look in her eyes, or the hollow expression on her expertly made-up features. The chain that bound her to the table was invisible to the outside world. Under the light glamor she wore, even she was invisible to the rest of the world. She wasn't sure why Narcissa always insisted her glamor charm was in place, but she didn't bother arguing. It wasn't like she wanted to be seen with the Malfoys and their questionable acquaintances either.
"It's been weeks," She finally whispered, meeting the other witch's dark gaze. "You've forced me to sit and dine at these fancy restaurants with yourself, your family, known Death Eaters–even the very criminals who killed my own friends and family," She shook her head, willing the stinging sensation in her eyes to go away. "What kind of torture is this, Narcissa?"
"I think you're the first prisoner that's complained that being served crème brûlée is a form of torture," Narcissa commented lightly as she took a sip of her wine. "Normally, prisoners are forced to starve, you see." The blonde cocked her head to the side with a slight smirk, "Though I'm sure you remember, from your time in Azkaban."
"I'd rather be in Azkaban than be used against my own son," Lily hissed. "For Merlin's sake, Narcissa. You're a mother yourself. How would you react if someone used you against Draco?"
"I don't believe in ruminating over hypotheticals," The other witch waved her hand dismissively as the waiter approached their table. She smiled at him with the full charm of a Malfoy as she rattled off her order, "I'll have the fruit tarte this afternoon, and I believe my lovely friend would love to try your crème brûlée."
Lily waited until the waiter had nodded and stepped away with their order before fixing her attention on the other woman once more. Before they had taken opposite sides in the war, the last time she had seen Narcissa Malfoy was back in their Hogwarts days. The Black sisters were infamous for their quick wit, charm, and undeniable beauty. Their paths rarely crossed back in school, but she had always reluctantly admired the tall blonde witch from afar. People were drawn to Narcissa Malfoy, whether it was because of the fierce way she defended her family and housemates, or the cloud of elegance she practically glided on.
"People used to worship you in Hogwarts," Lily traced the stem of her own untouched wine glass, averting her gaze to her lap. "Even the girls in my house were jealous of your popularity, your looks, even your grades. Ice Princess–that's what we called you, you know," She mentioned conversationally.
Narcissa raised an eyebrow, "Oh?"
"Even I used to look up to you sometimes," She admitted. "I used to be friends with Severus, once upon a time, and he always spoke of your kindness whenever James and his friends would pick on him."
"It was the right thing to do."
Lily swallowed hard. "When I lost Har–Hadrian–all those years ago, it felt like I had given up a piece of my own soul. I went through the motions like the living dead," She confessed. "Not a single day went by where I didn't think of my son. Everyone told me he was dead, but I didn't believe them. They told me I was going insane, but I never listened. I held onto that hope that my son was alive until the day I was reunited with him," She raised her head to stare at the beautiful witch sitting across from her. "Imagine my surprise when I discovered who had been raising him all these years."
The other woman narrowed her eyes. "Lady Potter, I'd advise you to tread cautiously. You are in no position to comment on the way Hadrian was raised. You gave up that right when you abandoned him at that horrid muggle's home."
"You misunderstand me, Narcissa," Lily spoke quietly. "I wanted to thank you for taking care of my son."
Lady Malfoy kept her expression carefully blank, giving no indication she had even heard the other witch. She straightened the fork beside her dessert plate. "It was the right thing to do."
Lily shook her head. "Please do not waive away your compassion under a shroud of mere obligation, Narcissa. Severus told me you raised Hadrian as if he were your own. Tom Riddle," She inhaled sharply, noticing Narcissa didn't so much at flinch at the name. "He raised my son to be a monster just like him, but you–you took care of him despite that."
"Your son is no monster, Lily," Narcissa set her wineglass back onto the table with a severe frown. "He has done terrible things, yes, but haven't we all? He is nothing like Tom Riddle."
"You love my son, don't you, Narcissa? Just as much as you love your own son, Draco?"
The blonde witch nodded stiffly.
"Imagine if some outside force pitted them against each other. Could you choose between them?" Lily smiled to herself as the woman across from the table stilled. "Would you allow yourself to be used against either of them? Which one would you sacrifice to save the other?"
"Stop," Narcissa spoke through gritted teeth.
"It's a difficult decision, isn't it?" Lily raised her wineglass to the witch in a mocking toast, "How would you decide which one will be saved, and which one would suffer? Or perhaps you enjoy playing God with your own flesh and blood."
Narcissa smoothed the white linen napkin in her lap. She remained silent, even as the waiter approached them again with their dessert, revealing the artful plating with a flourish as he removed the silver dome cover. In fact, the other woman cut into her dessert without another word, choosing to ignore her surroundings almost desperately.
"I used to admire you," Lily repeated after a few seconds, making no move to touch the dessert in front of her. "That was before you stared down your nose at me, before you decided to torture me for my decisions–even though you didn't experience even a fraction of the pain I've been through."
Narcissa set her fork down beside her plate. "Do you want to know what I would have done, Lily?"
The red-haired witch pursed her lips. "You can't even begin to imagine–"
"I would have fled," Narcissa took a bite of her fruit tarte and chewed thoughtfully. "I would have taken my family–Lucius, the boys–and I would have hidden them away where nobody would be able to find us. If anyone tried to stop us," She paused and took a sip of her wine before her eyes hardened. "I would've killed them myself."
"But Alexander was the Chosen One," Lily folded her arms across her chest. "He had a responsibility to our world."
"He was an infant," Narcissa leveled her with a sharp look. "He didn't have a responsibility to anyone. You and your husband–you were the ones with the responsibility. But not responsibility to the world," She shook her head and chuckled darkly, "You had a responsibility to your own family."
"It wasn't that simple–"
"Yes, it was," Narcissa ground out. "I never said it was the brave or the noble option. It isn't very heroic to run, I am aware. But I care about my family's safety more than I care about the glory we would have received raising the Savior."
"James didn't give me a choice, Narcissa," Lily stared at her plate with empty eyes. "He always said he would drag me back if I tried to run away with my son."
"He's a man, Lily," Narcissa rolled her eyes. "They're always disposable. I love Lucius, but Merlin help him if he ever decided to put our family in danger."
"I couldn't kill my own husband!"
"Now that's definitely a lie," The other witch scoffed. "Isn't that what you were charged with in Azkaban? Attempt to kill your husband?"
"You are missing my point," Lily huffed. "I was in a difficult position back then. I loved James, and I let myself be manipulated by him. I regret it every single day."
"Let me remind you that you had a choice," Narcissa polished off her fruit tarte and lightly patted her mouth with her napkin. "There was no outside force that pitted your sons against each other. You did that the second you gave up Hadrian. You forced him down this path."
"I didn't have a choice–"
"You always have a choice," Narcissa fixed her with a glare so harsh, the other witch shifted back in her seat. "It wasn't an easy choice, yes. But your family created this mess, Lily Potter. You cannot criticize the way we've chosen to clean it up."
"My entire family has already turned against each other, Narcissa," Lily pleaded. "What more do you want?"
"I want to put a stop to this madness," Narcissa pulled out her purse and dropped an obscene number of galleons onto the table beside her plate. "I will do whatever it takes for Hadrian to emerge victorious at the end–even if it means sacrificing his own mother."
There was a loud crash from beside their table, and Lily snapped her head to the side to see the waiter had dropped the entire pitcher of water beside their table. His face turned a pale shade of white and he raised a shaking finger to point at her, "Y-You're Lily Potter!"
Lily froze, glancing over to see her familiar red hair springing back up through the reflection in her glass. Her mouth dropped open in shock, "Narcissa, my glamor, it's fading."
"Right on schedule," The other woman glanced down at her watch and stood up leisurely. "If you'll excuse me, I have a meeting starting in a few minutes–I'm afraid I simply must attend."
"She's a criminal!"
"Murderer!"
"I thought she was dead!"
"What–" Lily stared at the other woman shrewdly. "You–you knew my glamor was disappearing. You didn't say anything."
Narcissa nodded, leaning down to whisper, "It needed to be believable, my dear. It would've seemed too staged if we had stepped out the first day, without the glamor. The press needs to think they've uncovered a story. They want to see excitement. Our purpose was to leave a trail of breadcrumbs," She patted the witch on the shoulder. "Now that we've planted an idea in their minds, they simply need to connect the dots. Because the ideas we come up with on our own?" She shook her head and laughed, "Those are the ones we believe in most fiercely, darling."
Lily scanned the whispering crowd of people in the restaurant with worried eyes. Half of them glanced up at her in disbelief, while the other seemed angry at her very presence. She shuddered. "Narcissa–they'll turn me in–or bring me to James…you can't leave me here. Please."
"Are you going to cooperate?"
"What?"
"I said," Narcissa buttoned her winter outer robes and bestowed upon her a dazzling smile, "Are you going to fall in line, Lily?" Her smile became tinged with a dangerous edge, "If you want to find a way back into your son's life, I'd start with being his obedient soldier first. Don't forget: you're alive because he lets you live. You breathe because he allows you to. Are you ready to earn your place, Lily?"
Lily Potter bit her lip, swallowing down the bile that rose in her throat as she nodded. She could only pray this was one decision she wouldn't grow to regret.
"Thanks for agreeing to this, Rodolphus," Lucius gave the other man a tight smile as they stepped out of the cart in Gringotts. He steadied himself on the solid ground before trudging forward to the Lestrange Vault. "Everything has to be absolutely perfect."
The burly wizard that was his brother-in-law laughed and clapped a hand on his back, nearly shoving him into the door by the accidental force. "Trust me, I know very well how difficult it is to please a Black sister."
"You made sure not to breathe a word of this to your wife?" Lucius raised an eyebrow as he followed Rodolphus Lestrange into the vault. "Bellatrix is certainly–" Lucius faltered, "She's very–"
Rodolphus snorted, "Watching you try to compliment my wife will never fail to amuse me, Lucius." He shook his head with a smirk, "You don't have to explain, I'm well aware Bellatrix can never keep a secret to herself. If she knows, then Destiny knows, and then it will somehow get back to Narcissa one way or the other."
"Exactly," Lucius nodded curtly. "I'd like to pretend this visit never happened."
"Of course," Rodolphus winked. "Anything for family, right?"
Lucius tucked his hands into his pockets as he walked into the sizeable Lestrange Vaults. He had never personally stepped foot in the cavern, but stories about the Lestrange fortune were spread through generations of purebloods. He kept his features schooled under a blank mask as he eyed the glittering tower of gold coins and priceless artifacts. Thousands of rubies and glimmering gemstones were tossed carelessly amidst the room, as far as the eye could see.
Lucius scoffed internally. While impressive, the Lestrange fortune could never rival the Malfoy vaults.
"What exactly are you looking for, by the way?" Rodolphus called out, walking around the cavern, uncaring of the way he stepped on a sparkling tiara that was probably worth more than the Ministry annual budget.
"I wanted to get Narcissa something special for our anniversary," Lucius allowed his gaze to travel across the piles and piles of gold, silently cursing to himself. How was he supposed to find one bloody cup in the middle of these piles of clutter?
"Like a necklace?" Rodolphus held up a shining silver dinner plate to study his own reflection before tossing it aside.
Like proving that her sister is innocent and not, in fact, plotting to revive Tom Riddle.
"Something like that," Lucius shrugged noncommittally. He studied the room with a frown, hoping to find something with a badger emblem, or at least something in those horrid house colors, but to no avail.
"Do you have a specific necklace in mind?" Rodolphus asked, "I can help you find whatever you're looking for."
"Cygnus Black gave each of his daughters a locket when they went off to Hogwarts. Narcissa loved that necklace more than anything during school–she wore it every single day," Lucius grimaced as something furry shuffled over the floor and almost touched the tip of his dragon-hide boot. "She lost the necklace when she became pregnant with Draco, and she was quite upset about it."
"Wait a second," Rodolphus rounded on him with a frown, "You're not here to steal from me, are you?"
Lucius froze. "What?"
"You said Cygnus gave each of them a locket. Are you here to take Bella's locket and try to pass it off to your wife?"
Lucius resisted the urge to sigh in relief. Instead, he shook his head, "I wouldn't dream of it, Rodolphus. I'm simply here to see if I can get a similar one made for Narcissa to replace hers. It's not as though I can pen an owl to Andromeda and ask to see hers."
Rodolphus narrowed his eyes for a second before dropping the hostile look from his features and breaking out into a wide grin. "I'm just having a laugh, Lucius. If you can find the damn thing, you can have it. I'm sure Bella wouldn't miss it. The only reason my wife would need a necklace is if she was strangling someone with it."
"Yes, that murderous streak of hers is quite…endearing," Lucius forced out.
Rodolphus chuckled, shaking his head. "Never gets old." He glanced at his watch and let out a bored yawn, "How long do you think you'll be searching? I was thinking about grabbing a pint afterwards."
Lucius opened his mouth to respond, but then he felt it. The same sinister darkness that began to cloud his vision, the feeling of ice crawling down his spine–he knew that the cup had to be somewhere close.
"Lucius?" His brother-in-law raised a brow, "Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost." The other man stepped around a giant crystal chess set and walked over to him. "Did you see a severed head, or something of the sort?" His thick brows knit together in disapproval, "I keep telling Bella to keep her grotesque trophies outside of the family vault, but the witch never bloody listens."
"It's not a severed head," Lucius managed to say, steeling his shoulders back and fixing his posture before turning to face Rodolphus. "I thought I saw the locket, but it turned out to be just another pointless bauble."
"If you say so," The dark-haired man shrugged. He strolled back over to the crystal chess set and grunted as he struggled to pick up the rook that was almost half his height. "Merlin, I don't even know why we keep these stupid things."
Lucius nodded absentmindedly as he walked closer and closer towards the wall. He heard the whispers in his mind before he saw the cup.
Your wife wants to run away from you.
Your son despises you.
You're nothing but a pawn.
He gritted his teeth together and inched closer to a section of the wall that was half-hidden behind a large pile of galleons. The whispers seemed to get louder and louder as he approached a built-in shelf in the wall, and soon his steely eyes zeroed in on a dull golden cup, engraved with the badger that represented the Hufflepuff house. He took a deep, shuddering breath and hesitantly brushed his fingers against the cold metal.
"Maybe we could also go check out the new racing brooms after we grab a drink," Rodolphus was saying somewhere in the background. Thankfully his entire concentration was on the game of chess he was playing with himself, and Lucius was able to quickly slip the cup into the inside pocket of his robe.
He was about to turn around when his gaze drifted over to a glass jar sitting precariously on the edge of the shelf, right beside where the cup had been. Lucius squinted closely at the jar, only seeing pieces of grass and dirt clumped together, almost burnt to a crisp. He blinked at the jar in confusion.
As far as he knew, his sister-in-law certainly had no interest in gardening. Perhaps it was some sort of rare herb she was keeping in her possession?
He studied the jar once more. He hadn't been the most attentive Herbology student back in the day, but he was quite sure that the glass only contained bits of burnt grass. It didn't look particularly special.
He felt the hard outline of the cup against the side of his stomach when he started to take a step back, and suddenly his gaze snapped back to the glass jar.
A hollow feeling of dread curled in his chest at the slow realization. He closed his eyes, knowing that the chunk of ice that settled in his stomach had nothing to do with the horcrux he had safely tucked away. Only one thought filled his mind as he glanced over his shoulder and quickly concealed the jar within the folds of his robes with a hasty spell.
Oh, Bellatrix. What have you done?
Slytherin Dormitory [November 26th]
"You know, you've done a lot of really stupid things in the past," Hadrian turned a page in his book, not even bothering to glance over at his friend as he spoke.
"That's a matter of opinion, actually," Draco interrupted him in a flippant tone.
"But coming up with a twenty-three-step plan to convince Granger to marry you is genuinely the most ridiculous scheme you've come up with," Hadrian continued as if the blond hadn't spoken. He pressed his fingertips to his temples and let out an exasperated sigh, "If you want to marry her…I don't understand why you can't just propose to her like a normal wizard?"
"Because," His best friend rolled his eyes as if he were talking to a child. "She would say no. The witch is too stubborn to admit she wants to marry me."
Neville cleared his throat, leaning back against the desk. "You know, I'm not really an expert on witches–"
"Trust me, we know," Draco snorted.
The Longbottom heir narrowed his eyes. "You know what, on second thought, I say we let him go through with this absurd twenty-three step plan. What's the worst that could happen?"
"I think what Neville's trying to say here, mate, is that maybe Granger is being stubborn because she just doesn't want to marry you?" Blaise pointed out with a smirk, "I don't blame her, honestly. There are so many better options out there. Like myself, for example."
"Shut up, you tossers," Draco shot them a glare as they all tried to suppress their laughter. "She does want to marry me," He insisted. "I just need her to realize it."
"Are you certifiable?" Hadrian arched a brow. "In what world does manipulating a witch into marrying you sound like a good idea? There are so many things ethically wrong with that."
"This is coming from the man that torches villages for a living," Neville muttered under his breath.
"I'm not manipulating her," The blond protested, "I only need her to agree a little faster."
"By pretending to be upset and ignoring her for weeks?" Blaise gave him a skeptical look. "She's going to kill you when she finds out about your stupid scheming."
"You know who else is going to kill you?" Hadrian flipped a page and added nonchalantly, "Daphne."
"How would Daphne find out about the plan?" A flicker of panic crossed Draco's face, "You cannot tell her, it would ruin everything."
"I'm not going to lie to my fiancé," Hadrian scoffed. "You know, the one who agreed to marry me without heavy coercion and active manipulation?"
"Yes, and I'm sure the whole 'I'm the Dark Lord, thou shalt fear me' thing didn't hurt either," Neville rolled his eyes. "She probably thought you'd murder her entire family if she said no."
"Can we hear the rest of this plan?" Blaise cut in. He rocked back and forth in his chair excitedly, I want to know what comes after you purposefully start a fight and then ignore her for half a month."
"Thank you, Blaise. At least someone is on my side."
"Yeah, but it's Blaise," Neville crossed his arms over his chest. "Though that does put your side at two brain cells combined, I suppose."
"Despite the truly overwhelming support in this room, I think you all are overlooking the fact that I know Granger better than any of you," Draco proclaimed haughtily. "She's afraid I want her to become some stupid Pansy clone. No matter what I say, she's not going to hear me out like a logical person, because as I mentioned earlier–she's bloody crazy. The only way she'll swallow her pride and admit she wants me is if I make her realize it myself. The Granger Proposal project will be a smashing success, you'll see."
"You two are absolutely the most dysfunctional couple I've seen," Neville shook his head. "If you somehow manage to drag her down the aisle, I hope you're very happy together. Merlin knows if you'll find anyone else in this lifetime to put up with you."
"Draco, are you forgetting that this entire plan is dependent on you being able to ignore Hermione for a while?" Hadrian pointed out. "Last week you almost cursed Goldstein for talking to her in the hall."
"He was standing way too close to her!"
"They were talking about the prefect rotation schedule," Hadrian rolled his eyes. "I was standing there too. Or do you just not focus on anyone other than yourself unless they have a head of curly hair and own several massive blue jumpers?"
"Stay strong mate," Blaise clapped his friend on the back, "You have to play the long game if you want this plan to work."
"Especially if Granger has Daphne in her corner," Neville added. "I don't like those two colluding." He pretended to shiver. "Daphne could smile at you politely while she slits your throat, and Hermione would probably hand her the knife if she was curious about the magical properties of your blood."
"Don't talk about my fiancé like that," Hadrian stood up with a sigh, tucking his book under his arm. "But for reasons completely unrelated to those, I will be having no part in this," He announced. "My lips are sealed, but don't say I didn't warn you when Hermione decides to strangle you for this stupid idea."
"Oh, I'm counting on it," Draco smirked.