Bittersweet.
Bittersweet Words.
'Are you going to fuck me or not…' was resounding repeatedly in his mind while he stared across the table at her with uncharacteristically wide eyes. Had the girl really just asked him that? Had he been nothing if not hospitable since her arrival at his manor?
Lucius took a steady breath and tried to inconspicuously swallow the lump that had formed in his throat, knowing if he had tried to speak his voice would have sounded like a weak croak due to the dryness in his throat.
"I beg your pardon?" He managed to articulate, with only half of the indignant composure he wanted to feel and hoped for her to perceive from him.
"Just rape me already! It's what all the others said you would do… so why haven't you? I can't stand all of this… this special treatment. So please just do it; stop tormenting me! If- If you're trying to lure me into feeling some-some kind of safety with you, it's not going to work, all right? So just—just do it!" She was close to tears and her body trembled slightly as she finally stared down at her half-full plate, biting, as ever, her swollen lower lip.
He stared at her silently for several long minutes until she finally broke out in sobs, hiding her eyes behind her fingers. His facial expression hadn't changed at all but for his eyes, warring with conflicting emotions.
On the outside, he could always look cold and expressionless when on the inside he was actually frantically trying to discern what his next move should be. This instance was no different; he simply wasn't accustomed to dealing with an emotional young woman and therefore he had no idea how to react.
First of all, he was slightly taken aback she would even think that. He'd been overly polite to her, considering his Death Eater status and their not-so-pleasant history, since she arrived. However, thinking back further, he had been rather awful to her in the past… why should she anticipate anything less from him? But things were more clear back then and he had to be convincing in spite of everything.
Secondly, at that moment he realized the full extent of her suffering. He could truly see just how badly the trauma the Death Eaters and most specifically Wormtail had inflicted on her, plain and readable in her shining, brown eyes. It was as if her memories were crawling into his brain. The Death Eaters would have entertained themselves while the Dark Lord was preoccupied with the Weasley girl. Why shouldn't they? Amongst the followers charged with actually watching over the prisoners, none of them had been promised spoils of war. They were the newer ones, the cowards who stood in the background, the weak ones.
The slaves had to be educated, after all. They would have used any means at their disposal apart from actually physically touching them. And it would seem his 'comrades' had gotten rather creative in the area of torture.
Damn.
He continued to stare at her, at a loss for words. What could he possibly say to comfort her, anyway? 'Why, yes, Miss Granger, I will be raping you soon. Not until you are good and ready though, do not fret.'
She was nearing hysterics now, hunching her shoulders and letting her head fall to the table, weeping openly now while her body wavered and quaked with her abandoned sobs."Please! Please, just stop all this...I can't t-take it anymore…"
Lucius grimaced with puzzlement, truly at a loss for what to do. Consoling her now would drive her further into the madness she had created inside her head, although he could hardly blame her; it was more than justified. He merely was not adept at comforting anyone- he never had been- let alone a blubbering teenage girl. Just because he did not want this life did not mean he was secretly some kind of saint- far from it really and he dealt with her the only way he knew how.
"Up," he ordered and waited for her to clamber to her feet. He would have to rely on the magic of her collar for now, as his indirect generosity seemed to be driving her crazy. "Now, follow me," he said dispassionately, turning toward the door and leading her into the only room he could think of close by: the drawing room. Predictably he heard her following behind him, shuffling and sniffling as she went and he was grateful his assumption had been correct. If this was how he had to deal with her for now, as much as it disconcerted him, he would begrudgingly do it.
He wasn't fully aware of the implications of the room he had led her into until he turned around and saw her eyes were peeled open fearfully, skirting anxiously about the room. Instantly his self-satisfaction melted into regret as he cursed himself inwardly. He should not have brought her there, it was simply the closest room but it was too late for that now.
Granger visibly flinched when he drew his wand however he simply aimed it around her and lit up the fireplace without a spoken spell. With the room not quite as dim, she appeared slightly more at ease but the lightening of the room would not calm her until she realized he had meant nothing by it.
Better to just ignore it altogether. Perhaps if asserted normalcy she would reciprocate; it was worth a try. It wasn't as if the room held any danger now.
"So, Miss Granger, you have heard some of the rumors of my renowned Death Eater ranking. No doubt you heard tales of the things I have done and let me assure you now… All of them are true."
He watched her face tighten at his honest admission, despite the fact he didn't really know what she had heard, but it most likely was not that far off to his coloring.
But the girl kept quiet, only urging him on further. "And now you expect me to give you orders, is that correct? You suppose I will reenact all the horrible things I have done on you, just because some other Death Eaters told you I would?"
She nodded slowly.
He chuckled briefly, and then curled his lip into a sneer. "And why should I give you any more orders when you haven't even obeyed the ones I've already given you?"
Her brow knitted together in confusion as she opened her mouth to speak but he held up his hand to silence her.
"Don't speak, girl," he said solidly, sinking into one of the nearby chairs in the room. "Sit."
She said nothing but cautiously walked over and took her place on the floor beside his knee and stared up at him… waiting. How was it she seemed so much more at ease being told to do something rather than simply doing it? It was absurd… or was it? As he reflected on it the concept was really not all that foreign to him. It was always a great deal more effortless to carry out the Dark Lord's orders than when he had to act in his own best interest on no one's account but his own. The Malfoy curse held more power over him than anything else which made it all the more straightforward.
It was not the same thing—no, not at all… but it was similar.
"I had hoped to postpone indulging you in this a while longer, but since you leave me no choice you will listen until I have finished speaking and hold your tongue until I am through. Are you capable of this?" He asked her; genuinely ambiguous as to whether she could handle all this information now. Regrettably, there was no other way now.
Wisely, she only nodded her reply and waited.
Perhaps this would be the best place to reveal some things to her. This was the only room in his manor that had visibly shaken her thus far and if he disclosed some personal information about himself it might help her forget the painful memories, replace them with something more… well, at the very least more endurable than what she was currently remembering.
"Wonderful, that does put my mind at ease. Now in order to understand my… history you must first understand Severus'. Were you ever aware of the reason why Albus Dumbledore trusted Professor Snape?" He asked her carefully, having no real idea of where he would go with this in mind.
After shaking her head in the negative, he continued. "Severus swore to Dumbledore that he would keep Potter safe, after his own actions led to the deaths of many and he was filled with remorse." He left the part of Lily out for Severus' sake as he went on, "When the Dark Lord returned they would give him a spy that would be most valuable to him and since he gave him the part of the prophecy, he leant his skills as a Potioneer and excelled in Legilimency as I'm sure you know, and combined with his convenient closeness to Potter and Dumbledore, he quickly rose in the position of the Death Eaters becoming one of the Dark Lord's favorites, hence his… colorful speech."
The whole time he spoke she kept her skeptical gaze on his. She appeared to be taking in his words, but whether she believed them or not was another matter entirely.
"It is true that Severus committed a number of acts in the name of the Dark Lord; yes, he sold information directly from your Order of the Phoenix directly to our conventions; yes, he carried out every order given to him by the Dark Lord and yes, he killed Albus Dumbledore- but all of this was at the very adamant behest of Dumbledore himself."
In response to this her eyes widened her mouth falling agape but with unfaltering testament to the Mudblood collar she did not make a sound.
"Allow me to infer in your place; you thought Severus murdered Dumbledore, you thought he betrayed your prestigious Order, and you thought he didn't fight for your side in the Final Battle. Well, he did. And then he didn't, of course. But after the Dark Lord…" he trailed off and faltered for the first time but recovered quickly enough. "…mastered the Elder Wand with the way things were playing out, he didn't have much of a choice, did he?"
It was necessary to talk about his wife and son. He had to suppress his emotions and deal with them appropriately later; namely taking a visit to Severus' Pensieve.
"You see, the former Headmaster was already dying at the start of your sixth year. Narcissa partook in an Unbreakable vow with Severus to bind him to Draco during my stay in Azkaban. I suppose you could say that was the first strike against her; the Dark Lord wanted to punish us and she undermined him. Draco had been set with a task an impossible task in retribution for my deplorable weakness. If Draco failed to kill Dumbledore, which all knew he would, Severus was essentially bound by a magical contract to kill Dumbledore for him. Dumbledore knew this and it was all arranged so that when Severus killed Dumbledore, it made him look better in the eyes of Dark Lord. In the final battle, he fought for your side as much as he could, but once Potter fell, he did the only sensible thing a man would do: he kept his mouth shut to save his arse. And this is the short version, mind you," he said, his tone acerbic and directed more at himself than to her.
Her eyes were damnably shiny again. Lucius examined the wall behind her head for several minutes; he was stalling and she probably knew it too, but Lucius just couldn't seem to find the right words. It felt so wrong, discussing this with someone other than Severus. The only other people, aside from Voldemort, who had known about the Malfoy curse was his now-dead family. It was certainly not something he bragged about, not even to other Death Eaters.
'Just do it…' he chided himself. He felt like a daft troll hesitating for so long.
Lucius inhaled deeply and let it out slowly through his nose inconspicuously. His mother was a very insightful woman and the main influence in his life even before his father's untimely death. She had always advised him to breathe when he couldn't think and the right words would eventually flow. She was uncompromisingly wise, which instilled a deep sense of respect in him for her, and it was a very little-known fact that Lenora Malfoy-Selwyn was a Ravenclaw.
At last he was speaking the words before he even realized he was saying them. "Severus has not been the only… penitent one in this war, Miss Granger," he began slowly, letting his statement linger in the air between them until clarity began to dawn across her features.
For a moment she only stared back at him as her eyes widened with understanding. "You mean you…?" She breathed and he realized his deep recollections had broken his concentration and allowed her to speak again. Lucius sighed heavily. This would be the most unpleasant part but if he truly wanted to bring Severus and his plan to fruition, she would need to trust him one day. He might as well begin now…
She would have to know everything.
"I suppose you should understand first and foremost why I became a Death Eater in the first place, no? One might say I was 'signed up' from the minute I was born. Abraxas Brutus Malfoy, that is, my father attended Hogwarts at the same time as the Dark Lord, or Tom Riddle more accurately, for you should value above all that there is a vast distinction between the two. The Dark Lord as he is now is nothing like the pictures I remembered seeing as a child… But I digress; my father was no exception to the lure of the Dark Arts, as all family has been in the past. Over time Riddle saw potential in my father and noticed he had already begun dabbling in the Arts; so what else would he do but wedge his way right into my father's life? Riddle was fast-friends with Abraxas and my father even went so far as to take the future Dark Lord under his wing in the Arts and Riddle wanted to know it intimately. Since he was a self-proclaimed Pureblood who had grown up in a Muggle orphanage, my father took pity on him and taught him all he could and directed him in the path of others with more knowledge and places that carried Dark materials. Of course, he had no idea what Riddle was planning to do.
"I should explain, there is a distinct difference between studying and submerging in the Dark Arts. We Malfoys and other Pureblood families like us, the Blacks for example, are taught from a young age how to resist the pull. Refusing to give into the seductive magnetism is an art in itself, really; we are made prepared to know our own limits fundamentally. My father taught me, as his father taught him and so on for generations. The Dark Lord… he never learned how to constrict himself like a true, disciplined Pureblood.
"By the time Riddle graduated from Hogwarts, he had surpassed Abraxas in knowledge of the Arts by far. He had aligned himself with the brightest minds in school, assisted the professors and stole items and books from them, and absorbed himself in his knowledge, which eventually led him to discover the Horcruxes- all in preparation to become the most powerful wizard in the world. But even the most powerful aspiring wizard in the world needed an accomplice. I'm sure you remember Helga Hufflepuff's cup. You were the one who destroyed it, were you not?"
Hermione perked visibly, sitting up a little straighter as she nodded once with an air of solemnity, silently urging him to go on. She was hanging on his every word now, but then no one must have spoken to her at length like this in months, especially not with this interesting little gem, he thought sardonically.
"Yes, well Riddle needed my father to acquire it. He discovered it was hidden in the Lestrange vaults of the Gringotts bank for ages and being from an old, rich family the Malfoys have always maintained an incomparable relationship with the old goblins. So Riddle hatched an elaborate plan to steal the goblet and would use my father to access the vault. Rodolphus' parents were not under his control yet and if anyone could swindle the goblins into letting someone other than an owner access a vault it was Abraxas. But upon meeting Riddle again terrified him- no; terrorized him, more accurately. He was only a young man of twenty at this time while my father was twenty four. If you can, for a moment, imagine what it must have been like to see a boy you once knew falling into the inviting arms of the Dark Arts, so profoundly driven mad with iniquity that Darkness had irrevocably consumed his heart. When I heard the evocative stories…" He trailed off and shook his head.
"Surely, you studied the subject in the art of defense and you know when a wizard or witch experiments too long in the Dark Arts they become unable to stop themselves and the Darkness inexorably pulls them under beyond their control…"
Even talking about it made his Dark Mark burn uncomfortably; it was the Darkest thing about him after all, filled with black magicks that reminded him all too well of their drowning, alluring call… But Lucius stopped it firmly before it spiraled too far. The Malfoys and other Pureblood wizards like them had been trained in the Dark Arts meticulously, and he knew his limits.
He spared a glance at Granger to find her deeply enthralled still, ever tugging on her lip in contemplation, so he continued.
"He could not refuse. Riddle was a close friend of my father's when it came down to it, but that didn't console his trepidation. Believe it or not, my father wasn't interested in becoming one of his followers, and he was aware Riddle was recruiting. However, he had a very stable job at the ministry and a young bride to consider and Riddle used that to his advantage. If my father refused to help Riddle steal the Philosopher's Stone, he claimed that he would kill my mother. Needless to say, my father complied against his will. After months of planning, they were ready to infiltrate Gringotts but at this time, my father was still having conflicting emotions. He didn't want to help him, but felt that he had to so while they were traveling down towards the vaults, my father tried exposing him. Regrettably, he was unsuccessful."
Lucius stopped to take a breath and cast a quick glance at her. She looked at him expectantly with unshed tears. He just had to get the tearful, Muggleborn slave, hadn't he?
"Riddle saw through him when my father stupidly motioned to a goblin once they were down underground. Instead, Riddle fled the bank and captured my mother. My father begged him, he promised him anything, as long as he didn't murder my pregnant mother. Abraxas promised his servitude, but that was not enough for Riddle. He wanted more dedication. So he promised the life of his unborn son as well. And my sons after me and so on, as he believed he would eventually become immortal. The entire Malfoy bloodline was, and is still, enslaved to the Dark Lord under an unbreakable curse. You see, his followers were limited in those days and his renown was not as far-reaching as it is today, so he was merciful if only because he was still rising to power. In return my father swore he would recruit more support and he did just that. They all helped Tom Riddle become who he is today. And the unborn son, yours truly, carried it over as instructed and passed onto me by my father."
He finished and inhaled long breaths, quelling and willing away his flaring emotions. This was only the fourth time in his life he told this story; once to Severus, back in their school days. Then, to his wife, a little belatedly but he needed the marriage as much as she did and fortunately, she did not cause disgrace to their names by divorcing him. Finally, when time was inescapable at the ripe age of ten, he informed his son of his inevitable fate.
Hermione stared up at him with watery eyes, clutching her robe tightly between her white-knuckled fingers. She appeared to be processing all of this, conflicting emotions discernible on her frowning face as she tried to absorb the information. He knew there were some holes in his story; she wouldn't blindly trust him now just because of this.
"Well, I'm sure you are dying to say something by now, are you not? I'm growing rather tired of speaking," He drawled broadly, raising his pale eyebrows at her expectantly.
"Um…" her eyes darted about, as if trying to pick a scrambling question from her peripherals to ask first. Finally, she did choose one, and asked, "So… so you… didn't mean it? I mean, all the things you've done before, you've tried to-to kill us all more than once…"
"I assure you, Miss Granger, I have certainly made attempts on your life in the past. It was not strictly personal, I admit, but I was following orders nonetheless. Orders I cannot disobey, much like the magical device you are wearing now. However, being under the influence of a permanent curse does nothing for the content of my character," he assured her firmly, rigid in his belief.
"Yes, but if you were born into it unwillingly, if you had had your preference-"
"Choice makes no difference in the matter. Believe me, I was brought up to hate everything of the essence of Muggleborns and Muggles; I was pure and regal, a 'noble Malfoy,' destined to be the right hand of the Dark Lord," he paused, regretting using past tense in his statement, a testimony to his shattered self-worth he was still rebuilding. "As soon as I could comprehend such truth, my father told me this and I did precisely as my father told me to… out of fear. He was no worse than the Dark Lord after years of working for him; really, by the time I was a grown he was driven senseless by him, tortured by him, and my father drilled into my mind… 'Hate Mudbloods,' 'Hate half-breeds,' 'Slytherin is the only House,' 'dedicate your life to the Dark Lord…'"
Lucius trailed off. He shifted on his couch and closed his eyes, trying not to recall the bitter memories. When it was all he knew it had not bothered him. Knowing what he knew now, knowing his servitude would lead to the deaths of his wife and son, the demoralization of his family name, and a victory in the Second Wizarding War for the Dark Lord, he felt a pang of longing for a road not taken.
"I knew no other way. As a child, I was much like Draco… superior, bad-mannered, and holier-than-thou. Yes, I do know how my son acted in school." He eyed her knowingly and she blushed looking away apologetically. "But as I grew older and my graduation drew nearer, I became reluctant of my inevitable calling. Of course, I'd known that the day would come when he would come for me and I would be forced to join the rising Dark Lord, but I was never faced with the reality of it. I suppose I had tried to carry on unwittingly while putting it in the back of my brain. I had an internship lined up at the Ministry, I was betrothed to Narcissa; essentially I had two lives ahead of me. One of darkness… and one which could be shaped into what I made it.
But it was far too late to turn back. I had been born with the Dark Mark; it was never cursed upon me like the other Death Eaters. There was no alternative for me—already I'd been recruiting, studying, and doing everything my father had instructed me to do. I'd brought most of my circle of friends into the life I was about to cross the threshold of, and… I was having second thoughts, much like my father had when he was my age. Even though I had prepared scrupulously, I shared my masked apprehension with my mother who was also equally wary of the man my father had become. But even she was frightened of him now, believing him to be drowning in the Dark Arts, never to ever emerge again from their black depths. Abraxas… overheard me confessing to Mother- my mother… and he very much convinced me my life would become much worse if I chose to defy the Dark Lord. A year after I took my place in the Inner Circle my father became mysteriously bedridden with dragon pox. The circumstances were quite unusual as there were no other prevalent cases in the area at the time, but his death was ruled as naturally caused even though I had my suspicions."
There they were again, the tears in her eyes. It perturbed him. She had, during some point in his story, moved closer, and he could feel her bony knees on the toes of his boots, fingers hesitantly clutching the fabric over his leg.
"Mr. Malfoy, I…" She began.
"Please keep your pity," He sneered, not much caring for the self-conscious doubt plaguing his mind now. He never wanted to share that bit of his life with anyone- ever again, but once again, he had no sway over his decisions….
She frowned. "I do not pity you. I am… truly sorry. Shouldn't I be?"
"No. You shouldn't."
He avoided her eyes because she was glaring at him. Pity was one thing he despised above all others.
"Well, I'm not going to be contrite for apologizing because I am sorry. No one should have to… to live what you lived through. If that's all true, if you really are cursed… oh, please do keep your pride," she snapped back in response to his rolling eyes, causing him to look down at her, astonished. She had no idea just how like Severus she sounded just there. He marveled at her silently as he was slowly starting to believe she actually might be able to help them.
She stood abruptly and paced over to window in the room, her arms tightly wrapped around her. Oh, how he wished he had the gift of Legilimency to know what she was truly thinking in that moment… He would never think to simply ask her.
After a long silence and several thoughtfully emitted sighs she spoke quite calmly, "I can't explain why… but I believe you. By all rights I shouldn't, but given everything and… you've yet to torture me and if all this really was just a sham to break me later, I will have to willingly let you do so, because I'm a fool for believing you either way. But…" She stopped and faced him, her face serious as she chewed her lip in thought. "But if you really are telling the truth… then why are you telling me?"
"After revealing all that, that is what you say in response to me?" He asked incredulously, shaking his head as he marveled at her. Severus was not far-off in thinking she wouldn't be terribly tricky to persuade.
She shrugged a shoulder, unaware and uncaring of his inner turmoil. "There's no way you would tell me without a reason. And if you really were lying I would applaud your attention to detail, but I feel like there's something more… more you're not saying…."
Where was all this insightful perceptiveness coming from? True, he did not want to suffer a sniveling young woman in his presence but her cool acceptance was unnerving him. Lucius sighed and supposed he should just tell her everything now, they were already here. "Now that Potter is dead, there is no prophecy protecting the Dark Lord. It makes him no weaker, by any means. He's stronger now than he ever was, but with Nagini as his last remaining Horcrux he is not completely invulnerable."
"And…?" She prodded, edging closer to him.
He briefly considered indulging her and in one fluid movement had pushed his legs up from the ground and crossed the room to stand over her, towering far above her without the slightest bit of effort on his part. He felt much better that way, comfortably having the advantage over her. She shrunk back only slightly, but did not move away as he half-expected her to. He was finding it increasingly difficult to predict her next moves the more time he spent with her.
And just then; a reprieve was given to him. A small eagle owl flew threw his window and dropped a letter into his hand which he caught without even looking at the bird or away from Granger.
"Please do excuse me." And he left her standing in the room, flabbergasted.
He ran a hand through his hair in habit as he went into his study to open the letter. It was undoubtedly from another Death Eater, as Severus would have simply Flooed him, and he grimaced when he recognized the messy, scrawling writing of Joseph Yaxley. It was almost unreadable and filled with grammatical errors but he sunk into the chair behind his black oak desk as he read the letter slowly, not really wanting to reach the contents to discover what they would read.
Lucius,
We are raiding the town of Broxtowe tonight. Please contact Snape and the LestrangesLestrange with the news, as I'm busy with the preparations. We will also need to discuss our impending meeting, my slave Longbottom is not adjusting to the Dark Lord's standards and we must bounce ideas off each other.
-J. Yaxley.
Sighing, he burned the letter and sat back in his chair.
He felt weary. No matter how much sleep he got he was always tired. And Yaxley would be leading the attack- why was that? He didn't have long to ponder before he was interrupted.
"Oh! Master Malfoy!"
The little elf ran up to him. "What is it, Talia?"
"Talia is sorry, Master. Miss was asking questions, but Talia kept quiet like you told her to."
"I've also told you to tell no one that I instructed you not to say anything," he reminded the elf who ducked her head in shame. "You can answer whatever questions Miss Granger has, but her only."
She nodded in understanding and he looked up to Hermione, who was in the threshold, crossing her arms, looking up at him guiltily.
He smirked. "I thought we were past all the mistrust, witch."
"I said I believed you; I never said I trusted you."
"Well, I advise you to start, because I'm the only one you'll see in a long time that doesn't want to kill, rape, or torture you," Lucius said coldly, giving her a stern look.
She met his gaze evenly, but said nothing more.
After a while, it became clear to Lucius that neither was going to back down and he wanted to prepare for the night.
"I'm leaving tonight," he declared, and her face quickly became panicked.
"Leaving?"
"Yes, for Death Eater business. I trust you won't try to escape or cause Talia any trouble. I'd hate to lock you away in the cellar over something so silly," he said arching a silvery eyebrow at her.
She laughed humorlessly, a dry, unappealing sound, and then said, "Where would I possibly go?"
"I'm sure you could find a way to leave the manor, but that's as far as you would get with your collar. No matter, I'll have Talia prepare dinner for you and you shall have my home to yourself, everything will be at your disposal," he informed her, looking about the room casually and recalling the objects in the others. He didn't think there were any Dark artifacts left he should, or would, hide. There wasn't a point, really, and he had sold most of his more Dark valuables to deposit into a savings account for if and when the war ever ended.
Her expression took on a new look of interest, and once again he felt he could clearly read her expression. Perhaps his mind had calmed from the stress of being so personable with her, because he knew exactly what she wanted to ask him. "The library is in the west section of the house, just beyond the banquet hall."
She had the grace to blush, and nodded her thanks with a faint smile touching her lips. She no doubt had been dying to get into his library since she first arrived at the manor; his collection was legend, passed down to him by all his forefathers.
After giving her a pointed look, Lucius started exiting the room.
"Uh- Mr. Malfoy?" She called after him.
He stopped but didn't turn around and returned, "Yes?"
"You're- you're not leaving now, are you?" She asked tentatively, looking unsure of what to do with herself.
Lucius replied, "No, but I have preparations to make which will most likely take most of my time until I do depart. Perhaps Talia will keep you company, but I really do have work to do."
She didn't respond right away, so he turned around to look at her. She was biting that infernal mouth again. "You… You will be… careful… won't you?"
His face softened at her timid question. She was worried about him- or was she simply concerned over what would happen to her if he was not cautious? He decided that either way it did not bother him having someone to ask after him.
He squared his shoulders and raised his chin. "Yes. I'll be fine."
With that, he left, and went up to his room. He really did have much to arrange.
Lucius never left his room to see her after that. Preparing for a raid never meant anything physical. He was in well enough shape anyway; it was all mental and emotional. It was sort of against his nature now, but it was a habit all the same.
He needed to think.
Before he went on the Death Eater outings, he would lie on his bed, staring at the ceiling, and think long and hard about what was to come. He would think about a lot of things. How many Death Eaters there would be, what was going to happen, how many people they would kill, how many he would kill, and so forth.
It didn't necessarily worry him so much as it disturbed him. Reforming was difficult when you still had to play the part of the Death Eater. He didn't know how Severus did it for so many years. Lucius was rather new at it and hated the torn feelings that overtook him when he reflected on it.
He had already sent a message through the Floo network to Severus and informed him of their newest mission. He would go to Spinner's End in the late evening before they had to meet with Yaxley and he also included in his short letter that he told her mostly everything- the essentials, anyway.
He tried to focus again on his preparations, but his mind kept wandering. To the war, to Severus, to his new slave…
She had taken his story rather well. That was quite a relief. He would have expected much more inquiry from her, not that he was displeased about that. Although her snappish comment about believing him, not trusting him, was disturbing. To Lucius, there was no distinction.
Perhaps she didn't want to seem too naïve. Gryffindors were the loyal, trusting type, and she no doubt did not want to be perceived as such but that did little to redeem her in his eyes. It was all too easy; was she that unintelligent or that blindingly trustful?
It was no matter to him. The main point was he had help up his end of his and Severus' bargain and she had received it well. He could only hope she would share their desire to bring about the demise of Voldemort, which he was not at all worried about.
He had been lying in his room for hours and finally got up to put on his Death Eater robes and the rest of his garb and went about dressing like a dreaded ritual. His cloak, his gloves, his wand, and finally the mask; he stood in the mirror and stared back into his ash-colored eyes before waving the mask over his face. It was beginning to feel more like a Halloween costume than his almost nightly attire.
Lucius' mask fit his face snugly, and was irritably hot for long periods of time. His mask was unique to him alone with an intricate design on the front. Most of the other Death Eater's had similar masks but his, like few others, was uniquely decorated. Silver and black, with odd shapes curving around his face delicately. He never knew why.
Gazing long and hard at himself like this forced him to face the reality of what he was. This was how others would perceive him while he tortured or killed them, this was the face he wore to hide the truth from the world.
With a scoff of disgust, he vanished the mask from his face, unable to bear his own reflection. There was a not a reason to wear it now anyway. He strode over to the cold hearth and lit it with a wave of his hand before he grabbed a liberal handful of Floo powder and called, "Spinner's End," into the fireplace.
Severus was waiting downstairs in his armchair, healing yet another bruise on his cheekbone inflicted upon him by Weasley when Lucius arrived in his home.
"Another one?" Lucius asked unflappably as he took a seat in the open couch by the fire.
Severus gritted his teeth in freshly recalled anger. "Yes, another one. Apparently, being chained to the wall in my bedroom is still extremely obligatory."
"My how very… deviant of you," Lucius drawled with feigned shock.
"Shut it," he shot back, tucking his wand away in his robes. Severus' frustration was too plain on his face. He was normally such calm man, keeping his emotions at bay unless absolutely necessary. Apparently, in the present situation, it was not necessary for Severus to remain calm.
Lucius chuckled softly, looking around the dark room. The windows in the room were not covered by any curtains, but the dim sunlight still had a difficult time bringing light into the dusty windows. The rest of the house was not in any better condition.
"You know, Severus, you really ought to do something about the cobwebs in here. It looks like the previous owners died here," he commented with sigh of distaste. Severus just simply did not invest interest in his image like Lucius did. "Honestly, I wouldn't even believe someone lived here if I did not know you so well."
"Well if you did know me so well," Severus answered unsmilingly, "you will know that is exactly how I care for it."
They talked more about a different variety of things, the house, Severus' house elf, the date of their next meeting (or lack thereof,) their new mission, Weasley again, until they finally got around to what Lucius had told Hermione.
Severus sat back in his chair. "How did she take it?"
"She took it… very well…" Lucius said carefully.
"Do you mean to say she took it 'too well-' She believed you?" Severus asked, raising his eyebrow.
He considered that and decided he agreed. "Almost, yes, it was peculiar; all she really said was, 'I believe you, but I still don't trust you.' And then she had the nerve to say that if I had told her all that to break her, she would willingly let me. What in the name of Merlin does that mean?"
Severus frowned. "Well, I suppose it makes sense to her on some level… though, you are right; it is abnormal that she would trust you so quickly… Perhaps she had meant that she was accepting her feelings over trusting you so quickly?"
They sat in silence for a few minutes. Lucius didn't know how to answer that.
"Unless…"
"Hmm?"
"Well," Severus reasoned, "If you hadn't done anything to her, no harm or…?"
Lucius cut in, "Of course not."
"Then it should make perfect sense to her. She was probably agonizing with herself, trying to be strong for when you finally revealed your true self her, but once you did you seemed far less intimidating than her expectations. Thus, she kept magnifying it in her head, waiting anxiously and then you tell her the whole story, omitting everything she had built up about you in her head. What else can she believe?"
Severus had a valid point. He had an annoying habit of that.
But somehow, it didn't make Lucius feel any better. He didn't want her to believe him because there was nothing else to believe, he wanted her to believe because she trusted him. Her trust was vital to him; he needed to know there was still someone out there on his side, beside Severus.
And that perplexed him even more. He did have Severus, so what else mattered?
He shook his head, "That is… plausible…"
"Lucius, I've told you countless times before; the girl is exceedingly clever. You have seen evidence to this, have you not?" Severus asked, and continued when Lucius sulkily didn't reply. "Didn't I ever mention to you Remus Lupin in her third year? She was the only student in the entire school who picked up on my hints that the man was a werewolf, and subtlety is not my strong suit, as you well know."
Letting Severus' words sink in, he began to reply when his voice was vastly overpowered by a thundering coming from upstairs.
"LET ME OUT OF HERE, YOU FUCKING BASTARD!"
Lucius raised his eyebrows and stopped mid-thought as both of their heads swiveled in the direction of the stairway. That must have been the ever-eloquent Mr. Weasley.
"Ah, it would seem someone has rejoined the realm the living," Severus seethed, glaring at the ceiling.
"How charming," Lucius muttered while they both stood.
"Insolent brat," Severus stated and rose to walk halfway up the stairs, shouting, "I'm going out for a few hours; I trust you'll behave yourself until I've returned."
"You greasy son of a bitch, I will-"
"Silencio!" Severus shouted angrily, pointing his wand up the stair case, flourishing it again as the door slammed for good measure.
Weasley's obscenities were drowned out and Lucius chuckled again. Severus turned back to him, cheeks flushed in irritation."He will be the death of me," he said exasperatingly, using his wand to put his mask into place. His was much more different than Lucius', more sharp and angular, a pale gold hue with elegant scribbles framing his face.
"I have no doubt about that," Lucius agreed, covering his own mask over his face, grimacing at the stifling heat of it already.
"If he doesn't stop his constant howling at the top of his lungs, my neighbors might actually become suspicious," Severus grumbled, casting a Disillusionment Charm over them both while leading them out of the house and down the street to the Apparition point.
Lucius conceded that conceivably if Severus finally got rid of the dingy home in the Muggle neighborhood, his problems would inevitably decrease, but he did not even suggest it as he knew how Severus felt about his childhood home. Home was home, in any case.
He smiled wryly under his mask and said, "I will keep my thoughts to myself for your sake."
Severus growled in frustration and Lucius let him believe he was giving him a hard time. The younger wizard was really all too easy to rile up.
When they reached the end of the dim alleyway they Apparated without another word; Severus still glaring at Lucius from under his mask until they arrived in Manchester and entered the home of Yaxley.
"Lucius! Make him talk!" Yaxley ordered.
He barely managed to stifle an intolerant groan. It was obvious the young man they were torturing knew nothing about the recent activity in the Ministry of Magic. With Pius Thicknesse Imperiused as the standing Minister for Magic, the Dark Lord had unwavering control, but there will still some working inside the Ministry that were free of Voldemort's hold. This was unacceptable to him and he had ordered this mission to bring more supporters to his side- or kill them. This was such a waste of time…
Still, he stepped forward dutifully, drawing his wand out to cast a Cruciatus curse on the boy. While he watched him suffer, he thought he was probably the same age as Lucius was when he became a Death Eater. He wondered what Department the young man had worked for. He mulled over the various departments of the Ministry and began listing them off his head one at a time.
This was how he made it look convincing. He blocked out what was actually happening while he tortured wizards or Muggles, until he was physically or verbally instructed to stop.
"Enough, Lucius— that's enough! We need the boy to talk, we don't want him brain dead."
Lucius stepped back gratefully behind Severus.
"Now, tell us! Who is working against the Minster of Magic?" Yaxley shouted, his wand digging into the young man's neck.
"I-I don't know, sir, honest. The Ministry keeps quiet nowadays. They monitor things from inside their walls-"
Yaxley growled in frustration. "Severus! Legilimency."
Severus, who was standing passively watching the entire display with no emotion as he finally took out his wand and stepped forward, hissing, "Legilimens."
Aside from the Dark Lord and the late Bellatrix Lestrange, Severus was the only one who knew how to read minds in the inner circle. He was taught by the Dark Lord personally, but his supremacy increased because he had mastered both Legilimency and Occlumency. It was a rare gift, and with Bellatrix dead, that left only the Dark Lord and Severus, his shining protégé now.
Lucius rather hated the whole mind-reading business; mostly because he himself couldn't master it, but also for the reason that he immensely liked to keep his thoughts private. The only time it became useful was when he needed to communicate with Severus non-verbally; which admittedly had saved their lives in the past.
Severus had tried to teach Legilimency once, but the lessons did not end well for either of them. He settled for grasping the basics of Occlumency, concluding that keeping his own thoughts safe was more prudent than learning how to invade others.
"I'm sorry, Yaxley," Severus apologized vacantly, lowering his wand. "He is telling the truth.
The rather short, if not stocky, dirty-blond Death Eater frowned. "All right then. Kill him anyway."
Lucius saw Severus' knuckles tighten at his sides, and jumped in for him.
"You four move ahead. Severus and I will take care of him; we only require a moment alone with the defiant boy. It's been so long since I've had the…" he trailed off, looking to the horrified-face of their captive, "pleasure of killing."
Yaxley sniggered darkly and agreed, "Oh, all right. Fine, Lucius have your fun but catch up quickly, won't you? We've got a busy night ahead of us."
Lucius nodded and watched the other four Death Eaters, led by Yaxley, exit the small cottage and disappear down the street. Severus was already steadying himself against the wall with an arm propped up to support. He would never let on in the company of others the toll that the Dark magic took on him, and he did hide it so well.
"Are they gone?" Lucius asked, turning back to the frightened man bound in the middle of the sparse living room.
"Seem to be," he replied, his breathing slightly labored as he peered out the window cautiously.
Whimpers from their victim grew louder and they both turned to face the man now, shaking with fear. He looked back and forth between Lucius and Severus with wide eyes.
"Please-Please don't kill me; I swear I won't say anything-"
"Silence," Severus rasped, his voice hoarse but commanding. However, there was also no denying the shake in his voice, almost as severe as the shake in the man's hands.
Lucius and Severus had been in this situation enough times for Lucius to know just how much Severus was struggling with this. The Dark magic of being inside someone's mind so personally caused a great deal of suffering in the dark-haired wizard. Through Legilimency, he could see everything a person had went through, he intensely felt all the feelings they felt so strongly while they were afraid, essentially their whole life became part of his as he was forced to share their memories, emotions, pain…
Severus had never wanted to be a Death Eater in the first place; it was mostly Lucius' doing that led him down the path and killing and torturing did not come as naturally to him as it did to Lucius. Though they both loved the Dark Arts, Severus had never felt so strongly about blood purity and thus faced more moral quandaries than Lucius.
He couldn't see the expression on his face, but the torn look of anguish in his eyes was proof enough.
Lucius took pity on Severus and drew his wand out again, aiming it down at the random Ministry worker.
"No, no, no, please, I'll do anything-"
"Avada Kedavra," Lucius murmured, and the flash of brilliant, green light shot out of the tip of his wand, ending the frantic pleas of their helpless victim.
He fell to the floor as an eerie silence fell over the room.
Lucius turned and walked from the suffocating cottage. The chilly night air bit his skin, as it rightfully should as he threw off his mask in disgust, relishing in the stinging cold that washed over his face.
He wasn't sure how much more he could take of this. How much more blood would he have to dirty his hands with before the war was over? He stared up at the twinkling stars for long moments, the wind whipping his hair around his face every so often.
He heard crunching footsteps; Severus' boots against the gravel path.
Lucius picked up his mask and held it in his palm, staring down at it vacuously before he turned around.
"Lucius, I… I can't-" He began weakly; the distress in his voice was evident even through his Death Eater mask as he searched for the right words.
"Hush, Severus," Lucius said softly, looking deeply into the face his oldest and only friend. No more words were needed between them, as he understood perfectly what the flustered man was trying to say. He placed the mask securely over his face and simply said, "You're most welcome."