Marriage and Death Eaters

21 June 1973

"My only son getting married. I am so proud of you, Lucius. You and Narcissa are the perfect match."

"Thank you, Mother. Would you mind checking on how the wedding setting up is coming?"

"Of course, son." She left Lucius alone in the room, before reappearing a few seconds later. "A man is here to see you. Should I direct him to you?"

"Yes, that would be fine." Lucius stared disinterestedly at the sleeves of his formal black robe, while waiting for the sound of the wooden door creaking open again.

Heavy footsteps entered the room and slowly, in a disinterested, haughty, Malfoy sort of way, he turned around to see who it was. Lucius's increasing skill in acting in a dignified, restrained, haughty, emotionless manner at all times was not enough to keep his jaw from dropping in shock. With Lucius struck by speechlessness, it was up to the other party to say something, which he did so shortly.

"Mornin', Lucius."

"You weren't invited, Amycus," Lucius finally croaked out a response, desperately wishing that he could see one of Amycus's grins, the grins that he missed so much, while simultaneously wishing that he was not wishing for such a thing.

He spoke with an aggravated edge to his voice, "I know. I promise I won't sit in on the ceremony." His words became tinged with a hint of disbelief and sadness. "I can't believe you're getting married. How could you do this, Lucius?"

"It's been wonderful for my career. The Blacks love me. You wouldn't believe how many times I've been promoted in the past year, alone," Lucius spoke while eyeing and rearranging the cuffs of his sleeves, feeling as though he would rather look a basilisk in the eyes than Amycus.

"I hadn't heard anything about the marriage for so many months that I thought maybe you had canceled it. Finally come to your senses." There was a hint of lost hope to his words.

"We wanted to wait until Narcissa had graduated Hogwarts. Our parents were for a long engagement anyway," he stated emotionlessly, as though reading numbers from a sheet of paper.

"You'll never love her. You'll never love her the way you love me."

Lucius flinched at the stated fact. "There are things more important than love," he whispered to himself as much as to Amycus.

"You'll never be happy," as long as you're with her, his tone added, treating it as much as a fact as a threat.

"There's more to happiness than love," Lucius blurt out, almost surprised at his own confidence.

He gave Lucius a look as though the other boy was committing blasphemy. "How can you say that? Love—true love—is the epitome of happiness."

"Amycus, if I had stayed with you I would have had to sacrifice any chance of success, of moving up in society. I just couldn't do that. You don't understand, do you? Without a chance at power I would feel useless and pointless and static, as though my life is meaningless, as though I'm a waste of resources. I can't just amputate my ambition and throw it in the Thames. It's a part of who I am, and if I ignore that, I would be miserable."

Amycus adopted the other Slytherin's pleading tone for his response. "It's not a part of who you are. It's not a limb or an organ, or something like that. It's like a disease, or a rabid animal that has you in its grip and won't release you. It's blinded you, and if you don't get it under control it'll eat you alive—it'll destroy you."

Lucius sadly shook his head. If the muse he had chosen was ambition, than Amycus's was love. "I think you should leave," he said quietly. He had made his choice, and being reminded of other potential choices was too painful.

"Someday, someday you'll see what I mean," Amycus whispered breathlessly, disbelievingly at Lucius's behavior. "And—when you realize you can't be happy without love, I'll still be there, waiting for you."

When Lucius finally looked up from the cuffs of his coat sleeves the boy and a small portion of his heart was gone. What he would have given to see Amycus's grin just one last more time.

30 October 1974

The elegant mahogany table was clothed with several layers of overlapping lace tablecloths, silver candlesticks that gleamed uncertainly in their own light, and the remains of platters of delicately garnished food.

"So, have you decided yet?" Rabastan's forced leisurely voice, with just a dash of visible impatience, came from his left.

Lucius took a stalling sip of wine and swept his eyes around the heavily decorated table in front of him, his eyes resting on the other members of the Lestrange family. He was being asked to go on an—ah—excursion with them. With the best of the best. The words 'Muggle Baiting' sprang to his mind, but he hastily brushed them away. Muggle Baiting was what he and Amycus had done together. In comparison to the excursion he was being invited to go on, Muggle Baiting was downright child's play. After all, their Muggle Baiting had been for fun alone—no greater goal of helping the New Order rise, no greater master than themselves, and no deaths caused at their hands.

Now, though, he would be with going Bella, Rabastan, Rodolphus and the Lestrange patriarch, where Mr. Lestrange was one of the Dark Lord's most trusted Death Eaters. Now, they would not simply be taunting Muggles with displays of magic, they would be killing, destroying, even using Unforgivables.

Lucius took another stalling sip of wine. He was all for the New Order, really, he was, but a tiny part of him still hesitated at the thought of becoming a Death Eater. The blatant use of Unforgivables was nothing to scoff at, nothing to leap into without thoughtful consideration.

"Well, have you decided yet?"

Joining the Death Eaters could only boost his career, as he would make more connections with influential purebloods. For the sake of his career and satisfying his ambition, if nothing else, he should have eagerly agreed to go on the excursion and, by association, join the Death Eaters.

Another stalling sip and a pointed avoiding of Rabastan's impatient eyes. After his final rejection of Amycus more than a year ago, he had decided to pour all of his energy into his career and, he silently reprimanded himself for his hesitation. Because, really, if joining the Death Eaters would help his career, then that was all there was to it.

With a final sigh, the internal debate was over. "I'll come."

7 August 1977

Lucius cautiously surveyed the ratty clientele of the Hog's Head from his seated position in the corner. With the number of people with cloaked heads and hidden faces, any one of them could potentially be a threat. Anyone of them could be the person who had owled him with not-so-subtle threats of blackmail. What confused him was that this unknown person had specifically required that they meet in person with neither a hint as to the accusations they had against him, nor a mention of what they hoped to obtain from him.

The quick, furtive steps of someone heading directly for his corner caught his eye and he watched the rather squat woman approach. Despite wearing a heavy robe, as if she was attempting to hide her appearance, she seemed to be unaware as how to make her movements less noticeable, even accidentally tripping over a chair.

"Well, well, Alecto Carrow," Lucius drawled in a bored, haughty, fearless manner as the woman finally reached his table. "Fancy seeing you here. I suppose I ought to not find this particularly surprising, given our brief correspondence. How may I be of service?"

"Don't go actin' so suave. Your charm won't work on me. I'm the one in control, here, got it?" Unlike her brother, she seemed to have never managed to pick up a more educated manner of talking from her years at Hogwarts.

"If you would wish to believe that, fine, but do hurry. Unlike you, I have a variety of important manners to attend to and I would rather not spend my entire day sitting in such a disreputable establishment."

He smirked to see her flustered annoyance become even more visible. "Listen, I know your opinions on blood. I know you support the New Order. Don't go tryin' to pretend otherwise."

"Why, yes, I am against purebloods soiling their blood and culture by interacting with those who have less purity to their blood. If that's the information with which you were planning to blackmail me, I'm afraid you'll have to search for a piece of information that isn't quite so widely known."

"Quit being so impudent. I wasn't done talkin' yet. As I was sayin', I know you support the New Order and the Dark Lord's role in it." With a quick glance around, she lowered her voice and added, "An' I want you to help me join the Death Eaters."

Lucius raised an eyebrow and replied in an artificially disinterested manner, "What makes you say I could help you become a Death Eater?"

" 'Cause I know you have to be inducted by another Death Eater. And I'm sure you, Mr. Money and Influence, are probably real right buddies with the Dark Lord."

Lucius grinned. Not the most elegantly phrased compliment, but a piece of flattery he was still happy to be on the receiving end of. "Pray tell, why would I offer you a helping hand into the Death Eaters? Those who induct new members are personally responsible for their misbehavior, and I would rather not be on the receiving end of any of the Dark Lord's punishments."

Here Alecto Carrow gave a triumphant smirk, as different from her brother's grins as water from oil; Lucius felt a pang as he realized it had been four years since he had seen her brother. Alecto Carrow continued in a victorious voice, "I knew you were Death Eater. An', if you don't help me join, I'll tell everyone you're a faggot."

A nerve pulse added to his heartbeat as he regarded the woman in front of him. It was out. This was her attempt to force him into a corner with the knowledge that she could blackmail him, to be the cat in a cat and mouse game and theoretically get anything she wanted from him. Judging by the state of her robes, she'd no doubt be after his money next. Well, the mouse had some tricks in it yet. "I find it odd that you would wish to ruin your brother, as well. Has the sibling relationship been deteriorating?" he stated the question with mock sweetness.

"Leave Amycus outta this. He's not a faggot, you are," she stated, her conviction as unwavering as that summer day five years ago. "Whatever I say about you isn't gonna hurt Amycus."

Lucius frowned slightly at his first attempt failing to disarm her, before preparing his second attempt. "And tell me, why on earth would anyone believe you? I'm a married man." Besides looking at the attractive men in his work place for a few milliseconds longer than socially acceptable, he had done nothing else potentially incriminating since his proposal to Narcissa.

"It's your wife I'd tell first," she smirked again, that awful, hideous smirk. "I'm sure she wonders why she's been married for four years and there's still no heir to the Malfoys. I'd be doing her a service, by lettin' her know why, don't you think? Maybe if I said something about seeing you with a woman she wouldn't believe me, but calling you a faggot would be an awfully specific rumor to spread, an' I was never one of the gossipin' Slytherin girls in the first place. An', even if she doesn't believe me at first, it'll plant a suspicion, and then she'll come round to the truth, and then everyone'll know the truth, an' do you really want to risk that?"

Lucius's frown deepened, feeling rather as though a trap was slowly encircling him, squeezing out his breath and immobilizing him. He could see his career going up in flames, his family disowning him. No, he did not want to risk being outed. His defensive methods against her blackmail were being proven ineffective, one by one. The final question: would she actually carry through with her action? It would be beyond socially awkward for her to suddenly visit Narcissa with the intent of a 'little chat.' Almost as a response at his attempts at self-comfort, he could hear his and Amycus's teenaged voices:

"Your sister's not the type to hold grudges, then, I take it?"

"Er—actually, she's just the type."

The ensnaring of the arms of the trap continued to incapacitate him, until he realized he was exactly the mouse trapped in the corner. The stakes were too high. He had lost the game of cat and mouse. "Fine, I'll help you join the Death Eaters."

The triumphant smirk returned. "Excellent. An' don't go worryin' your pretty little head about it, I'm not goin' to go askin' you for anything else. You don't have anything else I want."

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A/N: Only one chapter left. Feedback is always appreciated!