Disclaimer: See Chapter 01
Harry Potter and Pure Blooded Truths
Chapter 6
The Enemy Within
A comfortable silence had transcended between the two women, Camilla was satisfied that her mission of distracting her friend had been successful while Narcissa had recounted her latest horticulture experiments. Idly sitting and sipping from her crystal goblet, Narcissa looked about the room again, thinking of how proud she was of her son, and that this night almost hadn't been possible.
Lost in thought, her mind traveled to one particular evening Lucius had come home, an evening before Draco had even been conceived. An evening when Lucius had revealed events that would shape and control their lives for decades. An evening when Lucius had come home extremely rattled and agitated, shaken to his very core.
Upon hearing the distinguishable 'crack' of an apparation, indicating that her husband had returned, Narcissa made her way to the receiving room. The first thing Narcissa had noticed was his state of dress. Always impeccably dressed, Narcissa's breath caught in her throat when she saw the condition of his robes, not only were they muddy, ripped, one could even describe them as shredded, they were in complete tatters.
Before she had the opportunity to rush to his side and check him for injuries, she had noticed that his posture was off. Taking a moment to critically examine him visually, she noticed that his shoulders were uncharacteristically slumped forward, but there was more, to Narcissa, his entire countenance radiated defeat. An air that she had never observed in her husband before, putting her on edge.
As alarming as his physical appearance had been to the young woman, it was not until he had raised his head, their eyes momentarily locking that she feared closing the gap between them would be unwise. Intellectually she knew that the man in front of her was her husband, otherwise he would not have been able to enter the manor. The wards were keyed to a person's blood, not even a polyjuiced imposter could breech them. But her nerves were not soothed by this knowledge, as something was definitely wrong with her husband.
She knew that the man standing in front of her was her Lucius, but something had changed him. When their eyes had momentarily locked, the empty look in his eyes had screamed at her. Her empathic powers were on overdrive, flooding her senses, rendering her an emotional cripple. Struggling to reign in her empathic powers, she had been left with a feeling of foreboding. The best explanation her brain was able to process at the moment was that he had experienced such defeat that it was as if his essence of self had been sucked out of his physical body. He came home a shell of the man that had left earlier that evening.
The empty look in his eyes was rapidly replaced by one of a haunting. His eyes took on a wild, feral look to them. She could see that Lucius was also consumed by a case of extreme paranoia. He kept his eyes averted, jerking his head to and fro, looking, searching the premises for what ever put the fear into him.
Upon seeing and sensing his extreme distress, Narcissa steeled herself, shelving her own fears and took her first step toward her husband, in a bid to offer him some comfort. He had responded to her actions by backing away like a frightened animal. Within moments he had backed himself into a wall, his retreat, impeded. Filled with a sudden desperate urge to escape, he turned to leave, nearly tripping over his own feet. He hurried down the hallway to his study, and upon entering it he locked and warded the door, preventing access of any kind.
Not bothering with a glass, he snatched a full bottle of fire whiskey from one of the shelves, slumped into a leather chair facing the fireplace and drank the evening away. And there he stayed, undisturbed for two days. On the morning of the third day, he exited the room, and walked directly to his personal chambers unimpeded.
After he had changed his clothing, showered and shaved, he sought out his wife, to find her in the parlor. Narcissa could see the tell tale signs that he was still emotionally shaken but was ready to talk, provided that she proceed with calculated caution. Quietly nodding her head in an unspoken gesture to be attentive to his needs, she closed the book she had in her lap and patted the seat next to herself on the settee as an invitation for him to sit next to her.
Narcissa did not need to engage her empathic senses to know that he was still unsettled. His breathing was erratic and audible which was most unusual for her generally unflappable husband. Before he was able to gather enough courage to speak, he tried to leave, but her steady hand on his arm prevented and coaxed him to stay, wordlessly conveying to him that she would wait for him to steady himself. And so they both sat, she silently encouraged him with her unyielding calming presence while he wrestled internally, desperately wanting to bound out the door and down a bit of liquid backbone.
After a few minutes of silence, he felt composed enough to begin his story. A story that once revealed would change their lives forever. A tale that was not only horrific in the retelling of the physical toll but one also filled with far reaching consequences. Forever bound, forever bound his thoughts swirled in his head.
Thus was his story, not one of intrigue or of conquering heroes, rather one that revealed horrifying ramifications. Forever gone were the days of the naive aristocrats, seeking to bask in the reunification of the Wizarding World. Their childish ideals had been irrecoverable ripped away from them, replaced by the cold hard facts of life. A life that he had to come to terms with as the alternative was — death.
Hindsight is often described as being twenty-twenty in vision, as it's so much easier to 'see' things when 'looking back' on an event. Lucius now knew, that his friend Sinclair had been right all along regarding the Dark Lord. He could no longer offer up feeble excuses explaining away the Dark Lord's personality shift. The once charismatic Dark Lord, the person that had rallied the support from numerous families of pureblood pedigree had changed, and in Lucius' opinion it was not a change for the better.
Lucius' awakening did not dampen his personal beliefs, those that brought him to serve the Dark Lord, those were still rigidly cast in mortar. Lucius firmly believed that the continued infusion of mudbloods into their society diluted not only their heritage but the magical gene pool as well. Wizards were of a race superior to that of muggles, and their continued propagation and proliferation needed to be protected. Being so few in number, many members of the wizarding world took extreme measures to protect their family line, an ideal that he had embraced his entire life.
Wizards had successfully hidden themselves from muggles for generations, and the prevailing attitude among many of his brethren was that this practice should not be changed because the alternative could lead to their demise. The fear that muggles could and would exterminate them was a fear that was based on history. The facts clearly show that muggles are and always have been a barbaric race; constant wars, persecution and attempts of genocide have fueled a fear of exposure to muggles within wizarding households that have not diminished with time.
But now Lucius found himself in a quagmire, his master had become no better than those he thought to despise. The ordered raping and pillaging of these lowly creatures was not on the ticket that Lucius had originally bought into. Unfortunately, at the time he took on the Dark Mark, he hadn't noticed the fine print, or the fact that his tattoo was a one way, non-refundable admission ticket to his exclusive club.
Even though Voldemort's actions were no longer wholly embraced by Lucius, the alternative, Albus Dumbledore and all he represented was an unthinkable option. While Dumbledore did not actively exterminate Wizarding folk, his policies which included embracing mudbloods into their world was akin to the wizarding world ingesting a slow acting poison. Neither alternative, the Dark Lord nor the champion of the Light, Albus Dumbledore were desirable options to Lucius anymore. But being relegated between the two, he would continue to serve alongside individuals who also had deep roots in the wizarding world and wanted to preserve and cherish it.
While sequestered in his study, Lucius had methodically thought about his options and the direction each would take him. Having formulated a tentative plan of action, he now needed to meet with Narcissa, to explain things and to bring her into the fold. As much as he admired her beauty, it was her brains that Lucius had come to admire the most. Her insight had always proven to be advantageous, and in this, they needed to be unified in their efforts as their chosen path would affect their lives from this day forth.
There was no doubt that the Dark Lord was ruthless and willing to sacrifice those who stood in his way, but he had made a tactical error the evening he had killed Lucius' friend Sinclair. In his derived pleasure in taunting those less powerful, Voldemort had exposed himself, an error unbefitting a Slytherin. He had revealed his hand before all the players had bellied up to the bar, and in doing so, he had unknowingly endangered his position, for those willing to wait for their time to strike.
Lucius now knew with certainty, that all the rhetoric of pureblood supremacy he spouted was nothing more than a ploy by a mad man to gather strong followers to his side, followers that he would then enslave. And this realization left a very sour taste in Lucius' mouth. The bile might not have risen to and departed from his mouth in an undignified manner, however, the distaste of what had been done was more than Lucius could swallow.
Once he started telling Narcissa what had transpired, Lucius did not initially elaborate on what had enraged the Dark Lord, nor were the specifics necessary as the underlying message from the Dark Lord was to impart his subordinates with knowledge. Information that had been willfully kept from them. What ever message Voldemort had thought he had imparted on his followers was most likely not the one that Lucius had gleaned.
The message that Lucius had been reeling with was that they had been hoodwinked. The Dark Lord had spouted all the proper words and phrases embracing pureblood supremacist ideals, however, his actions had betrayed otherwise. In his bid for domination, he had ignored the cardinal rule that ruthless, amoral leaders never reveal their true intent. In truth, he cared for nothing, and for nobody other than himself.
The Dark Lord wasted little time for the assembled to discover that they had been summoned for the sole purpose to watch one of their own being tortured and maimed for hours. His tortured screams were not heard by the audience, as the Dark Lord had banished his tongue, even casting a silencing spell for insurance. His screams could not be heard, but the agony he suffered was not lost by any in attendance.
Lucius knew Sinclair had been having second thoughts about following the Dark Lord, as they had talked. Watching his long time friend's body contort from the numerous hexes and curses flung at him was very difficult for Lucius to bear witness to. The retention of his outward composure could only be attributed to his father's thorough teachings. One must always retain options, and the only sure fire way to do so was to never reveal your hand, or in this case his emotions.
At the down stroke of each curse he cast, Voldemort ranted that this was what one could look forward to, should they dare ask to be released from service. That upon their acceptance of the Dark Mark, they were his forever. His to discard or disabuse as the whim dictated.
It wasn't until the spittle spouting enraged Dark Lord had let slip the whole purpose of the Dark Mark and its ramifications that the chamber grew eerily quiet. Lucius as well as the other inner circle members in attendance had just found out that it was more than just a decorative tattoo inflicting pain when the Dark Lord called. That night, they had all learned that the Dark Mark had a multipurpose function. It served to summon, to identify as well as acted as an anchor for a proprietor's bond.
It was the latter, the proprietor bond that came as a complete surprise to Lucius. For all it's insidious appearance, marring the majority of one's left forearm, it was in actuality a mark of ownership. Lucius' lip curled in disgust when this information came to light.
A proprietor's bond enslaved one magical being to another. This type of forced enslavement was never meant to be branded on a witch or wizard, as such a claim was considered uncivilized. However, proprietor bonds were considered perfectly acceptable within some social circles of the more aged members of society as a claim of ownership, when used on magical creatures.
For more generations than Lucius was aware of, the practice of branded bondage had been abolished and outlawed. The abolishment of the practice had come about due to its over usage, particularly on Veela. The Veela allure had intoxicated wizards since the beginning of time, so enticing, wizards nearly hunted them into extinction. This was the real reason behind the law forbidding the usage of the proprietor bond, not because the Veela had been regarded as equals to wizards, rather to prevent their extinction. Wizards wanted assurances that they would not completely disappear as their sexual proclivity was unsurpassed.
With laws enacted to protect the Veela from hunt or forced into bondage, wizards that were determined to obtain Veela pets, turned to the underground. Captured Veela were caged, drugged into submission and sold to the highest bidder. At the time of purchase the owner was given instructions on how to perform the proprietor bond. If a refund was to be honored, the bond had to be successfully cast before leaving the auction hall, with the castor engaging in sexual pleasures as an assurance that the bond had taken.
Veela who had performed coition with their soul mate prior to capture were immune to the proprietor's bond. Separation or forced coupling with another could not counter a mated soul bond, rendering the Veela in the eyes of the purchaser, worthless. Unable to bring about a successful sale, these Veela were left to rot in cages, release never an option.
While the proprietor bond had been created to control Veela, for the sexually depraved, it had been found to have a milder effect when cast on wizards. Wizards did not become sexually appealing and complicit, however they were more open to suggestions made by the bonded's master. They were placed under a permanent but mild and undetectable compulsion, willing to forego personal interests for that of their master's.
Voldemort felt no compunction to test the compatibility of the bond with each of his branded followers. The likelihood that any of his followers was mated with their soul partner rendering the proprietor bond useless was slim. With nearly all pureblood marriages negotiated arrangements, fostering family connections and not the result of the hormonal inclinations of youth, the likelihood that a soul bond match had been made was extremely unlikely.
Lucius' marriage to Narcissa had been such an arrangement, uniting two prestigious families that shared a proclivity of the Dark Arts. Unlike most arranged marriages, their marriage did not become one of convenience, with little love shared between the two. Unknown to everybody but suspected by one, Lucius and Narcissa had beat the odds and shared a soul bond.
Lucius had had sexual relations with Narcissa prior to their marriage and his taking the Dark Mark. It was this very act, the sexual machinations of an exuberant youth that ultimately saved him from a lifetime of slavery. The first time soul mates come into physical contact with one another, their magic reacts, initiating the long process for the successful completion of a soul bond. Unlike a bond that can be cast by a witch or wizard, a soul bond is not instantaneous nor does it reach completion until both parties share a deep emotional attachment to one another.
Incomplete as it was, the soul bond had protected Lucius from the worst of the proprietor bond. While he had felt his master's influence and the strong compulsion to obey, he had not felt mindlessly compelled to do so, nor was he aware that others did, before that fateful night.
It is often said that ignorance is bliss and this could not be further from the truth for all that had been revealed to Lucius that evening.
During the two days that he had barricaded himself in his study, he had poured over all the reference material in his library regarding the proprietor bond as well as taking time to reflect on his life. Lucius had reluctantly concluded that they, the upper tiers of society were nothing more than sheep. In addition, they had all willingly allowed themselves to be herded around by an angry, irrational blood thirsty wolf, in exchange for a few cheap platitudes. And as if this realization wasn't bad enough, even more disturbing was the fact that in the five years that he had pledged his fealty, this was the first time he had actually examined his master's goals without his personal wants clouding his vision.
Lucius had many questions, and with the questions came doubts. If the Dark Lord had only been interested in cleansing the wizarding world of inferior beings then why was he so eager to take pleasure in punishing, even killing his followers? Examining his memories further, he saw that the reasons behind the punishments had little to no justification; he had concluded that the Dark Lord simply reveled in inflicting pain and engendering fear.
Rather than finding answers, more questions formulated, building off one another in random order. Why had his father endorsed this mad man before his untimely death? Had the Dark Mark always born such a curse or was this proprietor bond a new addition, an insurance mechanism to ensure that his followers remained complacent to his will?
It took several hours relaying all that he had learned about the Dark Lord, the Dark Mark, and of Sinclair's brutal murder to Narcissa. And it would be several days while they conferred with one another, discussing all their options before they came up with a tentative plan of action. A plan that would keep them as safe as possible and ensure their continued existence.
Even after they had come up with a tentative plan of action, they continued to spent a great deal of time researching. In particular, they poured over all available information in print regarding proprietor bonds. It was not until they happened across a diary of sorts written by the Dark Wizard Alfonse DeLark that they had gleaned the true horrors of the proprietor bond when it was used on a witch or wizard.
DeLark had experimented exclusively on lesser witches and wizards in his employ in the late twelve hundreds. His reported findings claimed that the proprietor bond went deeper than what had been first thought of as a mild compulsion bond, that in fact it bound the magical core of witches and wizards to the castor. Furthermore, he reported that any and all attempts to remove the bond by a person other than the bond's initiator resulted in the death of the bonded, with their magical essence being transferred to the bond initiator.
When Lucius had first read the passage, he took in a sharp hissing mouthful of air before slowly releasing it. He read it again to make sure he fully understood the implications before he pushed the small leather bound journal towards his wife, his finger tapping the passage he wanted her to read. Setting her own book aside, she pulled the journal to herself and began to read. After reading and rereading the page, she closed her eyes, sending up a silent prayer to give her strength enough to lend support to her husband.
Not only had the Dark Lord demanded absolute compliance from his followers, he had made it possible to steal their magical cores and mesh it with his own if and when he desired. While purebloods were not strangers to the lure of power, they did have scruples enough to not rob another witch or wizard of their essence. Their very lives were dependent on magic and to steal it from another, be they friend or foe went against a code of conduct that had been observed since the beginning of time.
To have their souls torn asunder without forewarning was not what these proud wizards and witches had envisioned when they had pledged their allegiance to the Dark Lord. They had wanted to embrace their magical heritage without fear of reprisal. They wanted to shed the taint that followed Dark Wizards and their beliefs, and the traditions they held dear. They had felt oppressed, living under harsh governmental restrictions and lunged at the first Dark Wizard who had promised them freedom, freedom to openly practice and embrace their heritage.
While outwardly quiet and in control of herself, Narcissa was incensed and outraged that somebody would dare enslave purebloods, those who professed allegiance to the Dark Arts and the Dark Lord as their savior. And rather than calming down with the passage of time she became more angry that somebody who had professed to uphold the age old wizarding traditions would enslave his own followers did not sit well with the woman. She was a witch, a proud progeny of the Most Ancient House of Black and she was slave to nobody. No man would rule her or make her cower against her will. Somehow, they would find a way to break the shackles that held Lucius.
Narcissa felt an overwhelming need to embrace her husband, to reassure him that all would work out, but one look at his face told her that things would never be all right, their lives had been irrecoverably altered. While being wholly disgusted by the man's tactics, Narcissa objectively understood why he had employed such methods. Understanding and quite possibly admiring the tactical genius did not endear her towards the man, especially considering her loved ones were at risk.
Having an understanding of the type of followers he attracted, Voldemort had taken measures to ensure that once marked, they would forever remain his, desertion never a viable option. After his little demonstration, Voldemort knew that he had successfully and permanently cowed his strongest and most skilled followers. Voldemort felt quite confident that few if any would ever defy him, knowing the consequences of such an act.
The recipient of an embrace became a dementor-like being with one major exception, they felt the same horrors as those of their victims. A true dementor had no conscience, therefore suffered no ill effects from their actions, however, a created dementor, retained their soul, albeit caged, forcing them to suffer the same horrors their victims felt.
Relaying to his wife that his best friend had become an abomination, sentenced to wander the earth for eternity was one of the more difficult tasks Lucius could ever remember having done; not only because of the terror it welled up in him but also the total defeatist acceptance regarding his own destiny.
Sinclair had become an abomination. He was neither dementor nor human. Lucius didn't want to suffer the same fate as his friend, and he would do what ever he had to do to prevent such an outcome. He would not vocalize any dissention he might feel. He would find a way to survive intact.
Without hesitation Narcissa had agreed with her husband to take Camilla under their wings who was in her earliest months of pregnancy with Pansy. Collectively they had decided to never tell her what her husband had become.
With the invitations activating at preset times and identifications verified at the gazebo, guests began arriving at the manor without incident. Preset arrival times effectively eliminated traffic jams, an all too common, annoying and potentially embarrassing occurrence at other functions. Staggered arrival times also served to keep diplomats with opposing views separated as well as those who were less than discrete about their adulterous affairs, all orchestrated to ensure that invited guests would be relaxed when they entered the manor.
Unknown to all, Narcissa's meticulous planning, providing for an arrival of cocooned bliss, was not for their benefit, rather hers. With guests arriving sans fear of reprisals or confrontations, and then further plied with liquid refreshments during their carriage ride to the manor, guests unknowingly lowered their defensive guards. And with mental shields relaxed, Narcissa's empathic probing was less invasive, rendering an undetectable scan by even the most adept occlumens.
With Lucius at her side, Narcissa had greeted the initial sprinkling of arriving guests in the formal foyer. With a kiss to his cheek, followed by a few brief last minute instructions, Narcissa left the arduous task of 'meet and greet' to her husband while she made her way to the Ancestral Hall.
Before entering the Hall, Narcissa stopped and called for one of the house elves that she had entrusted to oversee to the needs of her guests. While polite but firm, Narcissa had recounted a few last minute orders to the house-elf, her parting words were punctuated with, "... and make sure that you keep those drink trays stocked and circulating."
Striding down the hallway towards her destination, Narcissa stopped and stood just inside the threshold, discretely surveying the room. Taking note of those already in attendance, she was not surprised to see the small pockets of people that had gravitated towards one another. Noting that they were all conversing and exhibiting body language that indicated that they were at ease and enjoying themselves, Narcissa internally uncoiled a bit. One last brush of her gown gave the woman the time needed to mentally prepare herself for the evening's events and the onslaught of emotions she was sure to be impacted with once she entered the room.
Spotting Carlton who was ignoring all those around him in favor of staring out a window at her flower garden, Narcissa began to cross the room. When she was waylaid in route, she discretely instructed a house-elf to deliver a glass of chardonnay to him along with the message that she would join him shortly.
Having been intercepted by the French Ambassador and his buxom wife, Narcissa played the gracious hostess while she received accolades from the plump woman for hosting such an uplifting gala during such troubled times. A few exchanged pleasantries later, Narcissa was able to redirect their interests by introducing them to Mr. and Mrs. Mackelfey.
The two couples immediately took to one another after Narcissa made mention that the Mackelfey's were the founders of the Turget Foundation, an organization which boasted political clout in the more elusive eastern regions of Europe. Always looking to further alliances, the French Ambassador quickly took the bait and began in earnest to discuss topics they were all politically active in, forgetting all about their hostess.
Having rid herself of the two couples, Narcissa once again began walking toward Carlton, who, had been watching her maneuverings with a knowing smile on his face. The two had met one another several years earlier at a horticultural exhibit and since that time have always gravitated towards one another, often times sharing their newest antidotes and discoveries on the plants that held their current interests.
Running into no more obstacles in her path, Narcissa had finally reached her intended destination. Assuming that they were being observed by many pairs of eyes and ears, she voiced a generic greeting, "Good evening, Carlton," which she quickly followed up with a quick peck on his cheek. She then graced him with a small genuine smile before she continued her public acknowledgement, "I'm so glad that you were able to attend this evening. You honor both my son and my family with your presence."
Feeling no rush to further blurt out meaningless dialogue, the two looked at one another in comfortable silence before a house-elf appeared, offering his mistress a glass of wine. Picking up the glass, Narcissa took a small sip as the elf 'popped' away, seeing to the needs of the many guests roaming about the room.
"Always more than happy to attend any affair that you are hosting my dear. Knowing that you will be present assures me that I'll have at least one person to whom I can chat with beyond the usual mindless drivel that plagues such austere social events." Partaking a sip from his own glass, Carlton gave a slight but theatrical sigh before continuing in hushed tones, "I say this in earnest as the topics of conversation rarely diverge from the latest marital scandal to which witch should be shamed to be seen in public in such a garish outfit when you are not nearby."
Wrinkling his brow slightly as if suffering from a bout of gastric discomfort, he finished the topic off with, "How people can prattle on about Mrs. so-and-so parading around in a plum colored outfit when everybody knows that the color of the season is eggplant."
With a wave of his right hand in the air, he continued, "I can see the scandalous headlines now. Mrs. Peacock was dressed to distress."
As much mockery as he was making of the society editor's choice of newsworthy articles, they both knew that an article very similar to the one he just described would be featured in tomorrow's paper.
With a smirk of approval on his lips, and said just a tad bit loud for all the eavesdroppers to hear properly, Carlton made a low whistling sound and said, "How scandalously daring for you to hotly contest the color of choice and adorn yourself in periwinkle. Which I might add is absolutely ravishing on you amongst a flotilla of floating eggplants."
Bowing to the young woman, Carlton lowered his voice so that he could not be overheard. "How I admire your ability to buck the system without these ninnies catching on."
They both shared a small knowing smile, as words were not needed to expound on both their abhorrence for those born of wealth, allowing foolish perceived rules based on whims of the moment to dictate their speech, behavior and appearance rather than being their own person. All too often those of the elite rankings in society accomplished little on their own, rather they lived off the accomplishments of their ancestors, with little desire or ambition to be known for their own accomplishments.
The party was well underway with Narcissa circulating the room as a proper hostess, chatting with various individuals, when she overheard a disturbing conversation. She had just heard Connor Avery bluntly ask Lucius when he was bringing Draco in to be marked. Momentarily, Narcissa saw red. To ask such a thing while in the middle of a crowded room was inexcusable. Even in private, such a conversation should only occur after silencing and warding charms had been cast.
Taking extra care to ensure that her party mask was firmly in place, she headed towards the two men. With practiced ease, Narcissa was able to soundlessly approach the two men. Tapping Lucius' forearm gently to garner his attention, he paused in his conversation and looked down to find his wife at his side.
"Please excuse my interruption." Taking her eyes off of Connor, she looked pointedly into her husband's, "Lucius, dear please remind the quartet that they are to begin the medley that we requested precisely at 9pm, as immediately following, we will publicly acknowledge Draco's legal status of being the successor to the Malfoy line."
Providing a reason for possible eavesdroppers to lose interest in the group, she pitched her voice with a slight laugh, "With as flighty as the group's leader appears to be, I'm afraid they will forget to keep track of the time and foul up the procession."
A moment of silence befell the trio, not one of discomfort, rather one of silent signals parlayed between the married couple.
Concluding her silent yet very precise conversation with her husband, Narcissa voiced, "In your stead, darling," shifting her eyes from her husband towards the other man in their grouping, "I promise to take care of Mr. Avery in your absence."
Having seen that certain gleam in his wife's eye, Lucius was more than willing to play along with her and do her bidding. Leaning over and giving his wife a swift but endearing kiss on her cheek, Lucius excused himself from the two and headed off in the direction of the quartet.
Narcissa was watching her husband walk away when she spoke, "Earlier this evening, I had noticed a certain young woman eyeing you quite a bit." Having now turned her attention towards the man gracing her presence, "and it looked to me as if she was not in the least bit disinterested in what she saw."
Providing Avery with an incentive to lean into her, she lowered her voice and in hushed tones but loud enough to make sure he heard her above the room noise, Narcissa continued, "so, I propose we go over and I introduce the two of you."
A few steps were placed one in front of the other before Narcissa broke the silence that had descended upon the two. "I will admit that I do not personally know the young woman, other than the fact that she came with Rosalie Portens. And as I've known Rosalie for quite a few years, I feel confident that this young woman comes from an agreeable background."
Before Avery had time to wrap his brain around the fact that he did not know who Rosalie Portens was, they were standing in front of a beautiful young witch dressed in teal robes.
Playing the perfect hostess, Narcissa proceeded to introduce the two, "Connor Avery, I would like to introduce you to Emaline Fitzhurd. Emaline my dear, this is Connor Avery."
After the two had formally presented themselves to one another, the introduction ritual finishing after Avery brushed his lips over her knuckles, they then looked at their hostess for some direction.
Reaching over and placing her hand on the small of the younger witch's back, Narcissa guided the three of them towards the archway. "I really do apologize my dear, but I simply couldn't contain myself and I let it slip to Mr. Avery here that you had been glancing in his direction most of the evening. And well, his being an eligible wizard, he was more than eager to be introduced."
Showing no offence at her hostess' presumption, the young woman beamed a smile that simply radiated at the wizard standing in front of her.
Being the consummate hostess, Narcissa had the two engaged in a conversation that eventually excluded her. Making polite excuses to attend to other guests, Narcissa left the two. As she was departing, she overheard Emaline suggest that they share a stroll through the gardens.
A small knowing smile graced Lucius' lips as he neared the band, not in anticipation of having a small chat with the leader, rather at what his wife was wrangling. Before he had had any time to respond to Avery's inquiry, his wife had spontaneously appeared at his side. Her impeccable timing always assured that their social affairs were never riddled with scandal, or any that became public knowledge afterwards.
The most noteworthy news article after one of their galas are more along the lines of a fashion faux pas on one of the attending guests, never anything more scandalous than that. Of course his financial influence as well as his public support of the owners of the most prominent periodicals took care of any up-start reporter looking to sensationalize or over dramatize any misstep at any of their affairs. Reporters looking to retain their positions knew better than to embarrass the Malfoy's.
A short while after Narcissa saw Emaline and Connor heading towards the gardens, Narcissa found herself being whisked away to the dance floor by her husband. She was most grateful as not only was Lucius a divine dancer, she loved the way he held her in his arms as he positioned them around the ballroom floor. At times like this, she was able to forget her duties and enjoy the moment.
Holding his wife firmly to his torso as he made a quick pivot turn, he spoke to her in hushed tones. "I don't see Avery in the room at the moment. I hope that I don't have to send out a search party to keep suspicion away from our other associates."
At one party, several years earlier, the whereabouts of another partygoer was not found until three days later, in an Amsterdam brothel. McNair had no recollection of his time at the brothel but by the evidence of the numerous love bites as well as other sexual marks on his body, he simply assumed he had over indulged.
"Why darling, are you worried about another of your little friend's promiscuous ways?"
Turn, slide, slide, hop, step, the conversation flowed as effortlessly as their steps on the dance floor. "Why no my dear. What those men do on their own time is of no concern of mine, however, might I remind you that we have a leader who disallows for excursions without permission."
While Avery made a personal offence towards his wife's sensitivities by mentioning their master at one of her functions, Lucius had no desire to subject himself to a round of Crucio's while the Dark Lord ranted and raved about someone missing from the ranks.
"I'm sure that things will work out for the best, dear," was all the woman was willing to further comment on the now presumably missing Connor Avery. If Lucius could not control his associates then she and her team of hired professionals would. Loose lips were not something to take lightly, especially in these troubled times.
Sitting outside in the flower garden underneath a snapping golden briar vine, Edward Hollingsworth saw his partner, Emaline Fitzhurd enter the garden, with a wizard in tow. Pointing out the blooming phlox bush was the prearranged code confirmation that this person was to be oblivated and removed from the premises. And without hesitation, Emaline had walked her oblivious target right up to the plant and began unleashing her womanly charms on the man, keeping him distracted while Edward shot a silent stunning spell at him.
As soon as Avery was rendered unconscious, Emaline cast a notice me not charm on him and walked away, rejoining the party. Emaline stationed herself near the garden entrance to deflect or postpone any new entrants into the area while Edward took care of the body. Planting and activating a portkey on the body along with instructions for Hermes, who's job was to retrieve and redirect 'packages' sent his way. With his task easily completed, Edwards returned to the bench underneath the thorny vine.
While some might think that Hermes got the least challenging of the assignments, relegated to the background, never to be seen, he did not care nor agree with this claim. In fact, he quite enjoyed his part in the operations. While the others had to feign niceties and interact with the rich and famous, he got to decide where to deposit the targets. And in keeping within the contract boundaries of the customer, he still managed to redirect the offending person to some rather unique places, making his job enjoyable as well as challenging.
True to his word as well as stubborn pride, Draco had held up well during the evening's festivities. While appearing to negotiate effortlessly with the many proposals thrust at him by various dignitaries, Draco began to feel drained as the evening neared 10pm. He was ever so grateful for that pepper-up potion he had had earlier, however those benefits had run their course, and now he was looking longingly for a place to discretely disappear to for a while.
Spotting Pansy near the portrait gallery, Draco decided to seek her company and assistance as a buffer in a bid for a bit of relaxation. Given a choice, he would have preferred to have headed to his bedroom to crawl underneath his comforter until morning, but this was not a viable option. The party was being given in his honor and he'd have to stay until the last guest left.
Before Draco had reached Pansy's side, she had spotted him in route. Noticing that his coloring was a bit off, she immediately decided to shield him from the vultures disguised as business associates for the next hour. Draco had barely joined Pansy and a few of their classmates who were with her when, she hooked her arm under his and began to steer him towards the more obscure east garden.
Speaking in an air of authority, Pansy stated to the group, "I think a spot of fresh air would do all of us some good." Nobody bothered or cared to question her. When Draco uttered not one word of protest from being 'manhandled' by his friend, Pansy knew that her decision to depart was the right one.
Narcissa watched her son being led by Pansy Parkinson, away from the confines of the Ancestral Hall. While Draco's posture was picture perfect to the casual observer, Narcissa did not miss the tenseness in his shoulders or his too erect spine. To the ever watchful mother, her son's body radiated exhaustion, as evidenced by his stiffness. Having foreseen this possibility, Narcissa had instructed Pansy to escort Draco away from the foray if he looked like he could benefit from a small reprieve. As she watched the two leave the room she was grateful that Pansy had taken their little chat to heart.
While not as visually appealing as the main garden, the east garden offered what it didn't, a more relaxed atmosphere. Discretely scanning the area, she noticed no other occupants in the garden, so she steered him further into the oasis, towards a grouping of furniture.
Motioning for Draco to sit beside her on the chaise, she coaxed him to lay his head in her lap while she soothingly brushed the wisps of hair off of his forehead.
Draco could tell that his long time friend was worried about him as she was acting a bit out of character with all the coddling. Wanting to put her mind at ease, he drolly supplied, "Pansy, I'm fine, really. The medi-wizard thinks that I'm experiencing nothing more than a magical maturation so, it's reasonable that I'd feel a bit drained. Besides, I already have one mother, I don't need you fretting about acting like I have two."
While some physical discomfort did occur to a person during their magical maturity, it was generally mild enough to not warrant a medi-wizard's intervention. And the minor irritants, or inconveniences that often times accompanied a maturation process, cleared up without intervention after a few weeks.
Changes associated with a magical maturation were primarily restricted to a person's magical core. The witch or wizard's magical core settled into a permanent configuration once the body was deemed magically mature. The settling of the magical core did not provide an expansion or addition of new abilities that often accompanied a magical inheritance episode, rather it offered the magical essence of the person to become more stable. And once the magical core became stable, episodes of wild magic, a term used for episodic magical outbursts in children ceased.
Unlike the rarity of a magical inheritance, everybody experienced magical maturation. And unlike a person who experienced a magical inheritance, physical changes were not noteworthy from a magical maturation.