Chapter 4: Confusion and Frustration

It had been decided that Scrimgeour could not be reliably Imperious-ed and therefore should just be gotten rid of. Thicknesse was a much better candidate, also "looking the part" far more than Rufus, and would be much easier to get alone. Mircea was the one who needed to figure out possible ways of making that happen. However, she had also only been in the Ministry a handful of times in her life and she now had to learn schedules, alarms, traps, and nuances from hearsay. This was where Lucius came in. He had been talking to Draco one evening when she had rushed up to him her eyes alight.

"You were once an important man were you not?"

His face clouded but he answered her. "I was once a close confidant of the Minister himself."

"And you know the Ministry?"

"I know parts of it few have even been inside."

"Like the Department of Mysteries?"

Slowly, Lucius rose to his full height. "We entered an extremely secure division of the Ministry, undetected. I truly hope that is what you are referring to."

Mircea returned his gaze but she didn't push the issue. "Come with me."

She left the room without waiting for his reply. Lucius remained rooted to the spot. This could be the chance he needed to raise himself back up into favor. But he would have to work with her and she was still intolerable. However, a choking sense of doom was closing over the Manor. There had been hints of the Dark Lord changing location and this very home had been suggested. If the Dark Lord moved here, Lucius would not be able to stay hidden in the corners of Voldemort's vision as he did at the Death Eater meetings.

Just in the last meeting, Lucius had been made to feed live ferrets and stoats to Nagini. The Death Eaters had watched while Voldemort mocked him for every cringe and flinch as Nagini's teeth raked along his arms. The poison in her fangs had burned the skin and even now long thin scabs decorated his forearms. If things continued in this way, with Lucius as little more than a servant, it would not be long before he was fed to Nagini himself.

Mircea heard his footsteps as he left the room and followed her, so she did not turn around to acknowledge him. She had noticed the changing mood as well. Voldemort had left Lucius alone for a few weeks, but now his attention was turning back to the fallen wizard and any scenario she could devise in her mind's eye ended badly for Lucius. He had banked entirely on one side of things and had overplayed what few cards he had; he had gambled and lost.

She had only avoided this in her own life in one way: detachment. She had always lived and operated alone. Now nearly forty years old, she could not say she terribly regretted her decision. There was no family that would suffer, as she had, if her life was ended and none to hold her back from acting as became necessary.

They began a mutually beneficial and mutually distant relationship over these plans, and as Lucius entered his study late several nights later with a large mauve tome in his hand, he thudded it down on the large desk, next to Mircea.

"You don't actually have to do that every time you have a book in your hands," she said dryly, not looking up at him.

"Why miss an opportunity to annoy you?" he shot back with a smirk. The now familiar half smile flitted across her face and he walked around behind her to look down at what they had been working on. He placed one hand on the desk and the other on the back of her chair – his chair really but she had commandeered it and cursed it to keep him out of it – and leaned over her, placing his own face beside hers.

His focus on her measured handwriting was broken as he found himself looking over her hands and arms as she wrote. She had taken to rolling up her sleeves to keep them out of the wet ink and the Dark Mark blazed on her left forearm. She was nearly as pale as Lucius himself and with his arm next to hers, the twin marks stood out sharp and clear. His eyes trailed upward to focus on her face, with its crow's feet and worry lines. Some long loose curls hung in her face and once again he wanted to tug on them. Her hair was loosely pulled back and it softened her low, prominent cheekbones.

Mircea could feel him watching her so she asked him if a certain detail about the Minister's schedule was absolutely correct, hoping to change the focus of his attention. Lucius leaned closer to the page, now nearly embracing her with the way his arms were positioned. His hair slid from his shoulder and hung, like a pale curtain, half covering his face, which had filled out healthily in the past month. His intense grey eyes read the page carefully and his chapped lips mouthed the words slightly as he read. His jaw was fuzzy with a light five 'o clock shadow and his hands were spotted with ink. Covering a quarter of his forehead was a smear of dust from the old books in the east wing library.

He moved back across the desk from her. "The schedule is, to the best of my knowledge, exactly correct."

"Thank you. You promised to add the locales of his office alarms. Is it too late or –"

"Never too late," he said, waving his hand breezily. "What else is there to do?"

He had said it more to himself than to her, but Mircea had noticed an undercurrent in his words. That and the particular way he drank in the evenings and the way he rubbed his eyes, but never said he was tired.

Lucius saw Mircea give him an odd look and it irritated him. "What is it?"

"You don't sleep." It was a statement not a question. Mircea had slept little and poorly ever since she had moved here and it had not occurred to her that he could very well have the same problem. This was, after all, his own home.

"I've had years of practice." His tone was brittle and cold like ice chips and very clearly told her not to probe the topic.

But Mircea was intrigued. "How is that possible?"
He looked at her like her brains had fallen out.

"What? A huge home like this, plenty of gold I'm sure, and a job in the lap of the Ministry… hardly sounds difficult to me."

It had never struck Lucius before just how much she had incorrectly assumed about him, at least as far as he saw it. So much had gone so wrong in his life and the regret was feeding his insomnia. The regret and the fear…

"You once told me I did not know the first thing about you so I could not judge your capabilities. It would be wise not to make the very mistake you harp against."

Mircea leaned forward, eyes glinting angrily. "You have never proven me wrong." Each word was said very deliberately, an intentional copy of what he had once told her.

"The Dark Lord…" Lucius trailed off, unsure of if he should continue. He wanted to prove her wrong but he did not want to confide in her. "…tried to kill my son and executed my wife…executed her because she tried to leave."

Lucius turned a grayish white color and looked ill. Mircea was pricked with sympathy at the sight of him.

"How did she die? Your wife?"

"At a guess, the Cruciatus Curse."

Mircea winced very slightly.

"My mother was Imperiused by an Auror. Took her own life."

Now Lucius had a chance to look surprised. She had alluded to family problems and very clearly had a vendetta against the Ministry but this was the first time he had heard any solid information.

"That is not very like an Auror."

"You would be surprised just how different your experience with the Ministry is from mine, Mr. Malfoy."

He eyed her, not speaking. He was smart enough to know that not every Death Eater was in it because they had a desire to kill and not every Auror was in it for justice and peace. There were surprising and twisted motives on all sides.

"Here." She shuffled through a stack of parchments and handed him a layout of the Minister's office and the corridor outside of it. Lucius looked over the page and smirked.

"What?" she asked brusquely.

"One can always tell the writing of a woman," Lucius quipped, clearing away a space on the enormous desk and pulling out a bottle of deep green ink. He leaned close over the page and began to write.

"I rather like to think my writing is ambiguous," Mircea said, stretching her arms over her head and rubbing her temples.

"More than most. But there is still the feminine curve to it, like the curve of the neck into the shoulder."

"Do behave yourself, Mister Malfoy," Mircea qipped.

"Oh but why?" Lucius answered her, looking up from the page with a wicked grin.

Mircea took one look at his face and burst out laughing.

Lucius looked slightly put out. "It wasn't funny."

"No," she said, between giggles. "Your face."

Now Lucius quirked an eyebrow at her, looking decidedly put out. "I rather like to think I have –"

"Oh cut it out, you peacock," she retaliated. "You've got ink across your nose."

Lucius leapt up and stood before the gilded mirror at the other end of the room. A loud exclamatory curse issued from him and he worked at rubbing off the ink as best as he could.

"It's my damn glasses," he explained huffily when he returned. "I keep…misplacing them."

With a sly smile, Mircea pulled a pair of square framed glasses from her pocket and held them out on her palm towards him. "You left them at dinner. As Bella was there, it seemed prudent to not leave them lying about."

Lucius took the glasses from her. "It would seem you are good for something after all, Mircea."

Before she could counter his remark, the door opened, causing both of them to reach automatically for their wands. But it was only Antonin Dolohov.

"What have we here?" he taunted.

Mircea rolled her eyes openly and Lucius directed his attention solely to the papers in his hands. Death Eaters were beginning to show up more frequently at Malfoy Manor, making it increasingly difficult to find any solitude. Dolohov was a chronic intruder since his own home was a pit and the Manor was a vast improvement.

"Get me some tea, Mircea," Lucius mumbled, focusing on drawing in the precise locations.

Mircea's pen hit the table with a loud sharp sound and she stared at him. "Why would I do that?"

"You fetch my glasses, why not my tea? Anyway, you're free at the moment and I need to be alert."

"How about I assist you by dumping a pot of tea over your head instead?"

Dolohov plopped into an ugly chaise lounge and leered at the pair.

"Only if you wish to find yourself in a closet," Lucius answered, without a trace of emotion in his voice.

Mircea scowled and went back to her work with a final, "Get your own damn tea."

Lucius made a tutting sound, not looking up from his work at the other side of the desk. "Language. It's not ladylike."

"Being ladylike is a refuge for weak women."

A smile grew on Lucius's face. "And being irascible and antagonistic? What kind of woman is that a refuge for?"

A loud laugh interrupted the banter, jarring both participants enough to make them angry.

"You two are the best entertainment," Dolohov sniggered from his perch on the chaise.

Mircea caught Lucius's eye and nodded subtly at Antonin. Lucius's eyebrow quirked in response and a fiendish smile flashed across his face.

"I'm stunned you've lasted this long, Antonin," Mircea began, laying her pen aside and clasping her hands under her chin.

"I would be petrified were I you," Lucius picked up, turning very deliberately toward the Death Eater.

"What are you guys talking about?" Dolohov was clearly unnerved by the deliberateness in their speech. Both of them generally knew more than he did, so if something was going on it was likely they would know long before he did.

"He doesn't know!" Mircea stage whispered, leaning toward Lucius. "I'm stupefied!"

"Shocking!" Lucius stage-whispered back.

"He looks dazed. Maybe we should be nice."

"Doesn't he always have that dumbfounded expression on his face?"

"Well, he is rather oblivious."

Dolohov looked at them as if something was slowly dawning on him. "Nothing's going on, is there?"

"Depends," Lucius snapped. "Any twelve year olds or Aurors in sight?"

Doholov's face went red as he made the connection between their word choice and his own past experience with Potter and his friends. Antonin had a propensity for getting himself Petrified or Stunned in nearly every duel he had been in within recent memory.

"Oh piss off!" he spat at them, slinking out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

"Moody man, isn't he?" Mircea asked Lucius, fighting to keep a straight face.

"Well, what do you expect from Eastern Europeans?" Lucius returned, but a grin split his features and Mircea could not resist smiling as well.

"How stupid are you really?"

Mircea looked up at Severus with a somewhat baffled expression on her face. "What are you blathering about?"

"Lucius Malfoy helped you create these plans."

"Who brought this to your attention?"

"Dolohov."

Mircea swore in a long string of foreign words, slamming her book shut. "And they're good plans. What is the problem?"

Snape placed his hands on the table she was reading at and pushed his hooked-nosed face into hers. She resisted the urge to cringe away from him.

"Lucius Malfoy is not in the Dark Lord's good graces. Lucius Malfoy is not trusted and is not trustworthy. Lucius Malfoy is a fool who manages to destroy all he touches!"

She remained silent; you didn't fight with the second in command.

"I gave you lenience for your own sake. If the Dark Lord knew Malfoy's hand had touched these papers, you would be punished as only a Death Eater is punished. It would be very unwise of you to grow close to him, or to allow him to draw closer to you."

Mircea stood to her full height. "You shut me up in this house. You tether me to a forsaken man. Should either of us wish to leave, we must be in the other's company. Explain to me please how I might avoid him when you have done all in your power to bring us together?"

"The Dark Lord believed that your convictions were deep enough you would not forget what he really is: Ministry."

"How could I forget?!" she raged at him. "But if I am kept away from all resources and not permitted to visit the Ministry myself–"

"Your capture would ruin all of our plans. Even as we speak Yaxley is arranging a private meeting with Thicknesse. The Dark Lord has made it sufficiently clear to you that you are no longer a free agent, Miss Elaide. Should you forget to whom you owe your current position, he will find it prudent to remind you."

Snape's hands grasped her upper arms and again she had to suppress her natural reaction.

"Understand this: you are not to grow into any familiarity with Lucius Malfoy, professional or personal. This is an order and you are obliged by that pretty design on your arm to follow it."

"Of course, Professor Snape," she said through gritted teeth.

Severus pushed her roughly back into the table behind her and swept out of the room. Fury flooded through Mircea and she stormed out of the opposite door and straight into Lucius Malfoy. Since he had significantly more bulk than her, she was knocked to the ground.

"Hissing and spitting like a cat! What is your problem?" Lucius's voice was full of disgust.

"You," Mircea growled, pointing her wand under his chin. "Stay away from me!"

"Gladly, as soon as you get your wand out of my face."

She began to comply but changed her mind midway. The spell hit Lucius in the gut and knocked him across the hallway. He lay on his back trying to catch his breath, listening to her footsteps retreating.

A particularly scorching day landed on the Manor like a stifling blanket, smothering the occupants. There was to be a Death Eater meeting that evening and Mircea had spent most of the day running about, gathering up books and papers and plans. Mircea had renewed her determination to avoid Lucius. It was far too easy to slip into some familiarity with the weasel so she decided to just avoid him altogether.

It was to great dismay that she found Bellatrix standing in the door of the library when she turned to leave the room. Mircea had been aware for a few days that Bella was trying to corner her alone and she had done her very best to hide from Bellatrix. She had even gone as far as to create a moving double at one point to draw Bella out of a room she needed to get into. Mircea cursed herself for hiding her wand in a fold in her skirt. Her arms were full of books and Bella would be to her wand well before Mircea could get her own if she made a grab for it.

"What are you doing here?" Bella hissed at her.

"I could ask you the same question. Get out of my way." Mircea shifted her armful of books so that it would be easier to go for her wand.

"You don't belong here. You're no better than a Mudblood, with your shady family and your grasping claws."

Mircea's temper flared to life and she decided to not even bother with her wand. She plowed into Bellatrix with all the force she could muster. In retaliation, Bella grabbed onto Mircea's hair and yanked hard, almost knocking her down. The younger witch shrieked, more in surprise than pain.

"He'll never fall for you, you filth! You could never measure up to my sister!" Bellatrix howled at her, white with anger. She was convinced that Mircea was giving her the run around. Surely, she had angled to get herself placed in the new Death Eater meeting-spot and surely she had worked to get close to Lucius. That selfish snake would never have opened up to Mircea otherwise.

"What are you talking about?!" Mircea shouted at her.

"I should be here! Not you! The Dark Lord needs ME!"

Mircea reacted a second too late and she felt Bellatrix's nails bite into her cheek. But Mircea had not survived this long for nothing. The spell that hit Bellatrix threw her against the other end of the hallway hard enough to crack the wood. An invisible hand twisted around Bellatrix's neck and her eyes bulged at Mircea. In her heart, Bella, like her sister and Lucius, was a horrible coward.

"Touch me again, and I swear I will kill you. And I can guarantee, your Lord would not be nearly as sad as you flatter yourself into thinking he would be."

She left Bellatrix gasping in the hall, having lifted the spell, and grabbed up the books she had been carrying. The only reason she had gotten away with that was because she had the element of surprise and she was not going to stick around and wait for Bella to recover.

Lucius had been in the other wing and had heard Bella's familiar screaming from his rooms. He almost ran into Mircea as he came flying around the corner.

"Are you okay? I heard Bella."

"I'm fine," Mircea growled.

"You're bleeding."

"And my hair is falling out and I have all these cursed books! I KNOW!"

Lucius looked at her for a moment and then took the books out of her arms, piling them on a nearby end table. "Come. You can't leave those cuts like that. Who knows where her hands have been."

They turned into a room Mircea had never been into before on the first floor. It was a potions storeroom and Lucius pulled down a bottle of clear green liquid. He led her back to a small sitting room and gestured for her to sit on a silvery couch. She obeyed and pushed her hair out of her face. With some cotton, Lucius gently wiped the liquid across the slender cuts.

Mircea's eyes filled with tears as the sting of it seemed to burn through her whole skull. She clutched at his hand, and it was a moment before she could breathe normally.
"What was that?"

"Bella has a habit of lacing those lovely nails of her in poison if she's feeling particularly vengeful."

Mircea's eyes opened wide and she jumped up, ready to track down and destroy the other woman, but Lucius forced her back onto the couch.

"It's not worth it. You cannot win a fight with her."

As Lucius watched Mircea, he could not help but feel sorry for her. She looked so pathetic with her hair hanging half in a bun and half flying every which way. His hands acted of their own accord: they reached out and let down the rest of her hair. It fell midway down her back, longer than he would have guessed. He had never seen her hair let down before and now it was more clear that there was grey streaking through the wet sand color. He pushed some of the long locks out of her face. Mircea felt his hand trace the line of her jaw very gently, coming to rest lightly against her neck. His eyes seemed to absorb her and her heart began to pound.

She was supposed to be avoiding him and instead…

Lucius jerked away as if a shock had gone through him. There was confusion and frustration written clearly on his face.

She sighed heavily and stood, moving quickly to the door and pulling her hair back up with a quick wave of her wand. Quickly thanking him, she left the room; there was still work to do.

Lucius was looking for his son when he found it. He could hardly have believed it was true and he nearly missed it in his haste. He strode quickly to the table and picked it up: Mircea's wand.

Malfoy was nearly convinced she slept with it in one hand; she was a quick-draw and he had never seen her without it. He turned it in his hands. It was thin and average length, a little long for a woman. He rolled a list of wand woods through his mind until he finally landed on the wood it must be. But before he could enjoy his triumph, Mircea's voice rang out behind him.

"Drop it, Malfoy."

"Or what?"

He reached for his pocket but found nothing there. Turning to Mircea, he saw his own wand pointed at his face. How was she always doing this to him?

"How exactly did you end up with my wand, Miss Elaide?"

"I took it out of your pocket."

His eyebrows quirked sinfully. "You should have warned me. It could have been more enjoyable for both of us."

She rolled her eyes at him and held out her hand.

"Keep my wand if it makes you feel better. I was simply curious about your wand wood. It is acacia, is it not?"

Mircea tucked his wand into her hair, so the snakehead was all that was visible, and she nodded. "Acacia and hypogriff feather."

"Hypogriff feather? Truly?" Lucius looked closely at the end of the wand now.

"It's not uncommon. Not as powerful as dragon heartstring, but more intricate."

Lucius waved the wand a bit. "Twelve inches, slightly yielding."

"Correct," Mircea leaned against the table next to him, looking at her wand with a pleased expression.

"Let's see what I remember of wandlore, then. Acacia. Difficult to match, but powerful in the right hands. Not much for flashy magic."

"Forgot one thing: extremely loyal to their owner."

Lucius snorted. "Loyalty? That wand currently lodged in your hair has been passed down for a thousand years. Wands do as they are told."

Mircea smirked at him and pointed to a candelabra across the room. "Prove me wrong."

Lucius stood facing the candelabra and after a moment swung Mircea's wand at it. There was a light puff and the candles all lit. Both of them looked equally shocked.

"How do you use this wretched thing?" Lucius scoffed. He noticed the look on her face. "What?"

"You got it to do something. That's not happened before."

"I was trying to blow the thing up!"

"Yeah, but it did something for you. It usually only responds to me."

Lucius shrugged, unimpressed, and handed it back to her. Mircea turned the wand over in her hands, now eyeing Lucius with curiosity. She traded the one in her hair for the one in her hands and began to look over his wand.

"Eighteen inch, unyielding…elm?"

"Of course."

"And undoubtedly dragon heartstring."

"Undoubtedly?"

"You were trying to blow up a candelabra to prove a point. Of course you have dragon heartstring."

Lucius snorted at her comment. "Is it any surprise that your wand is for difficult wizards and witches? Hard to match and hard to control. Not to mention a certain lack of flair." His eyes drifted over her figure and she gave him a smug smile.

"And you? Unyielding, absolutely. And elm…the perfect wand for a prissy pure-blood. However, unlike you, the wand will make few mistakes."

He smirked at her. "You forgot the length, dearest. It is quite impressive."

"Or over-compensation."

"Malfoys do not compensate. But if you doubt me…"

Mircea, tired of Lucius's consistent taunting, decided to retaliate.

"In that case," she leaned close against him as she spoke, "I must admit a flaw in my wand. While it is somewhat yielding, I am very flex-i-ble." She let her voice drop somewhat and tilted her chin down so she was looking up at him through her long eyelashes. As their eyes met, she saw his pupils dilate and a slight flush colored his cheeks. She slipped his wand back into his pocket, letting her hand trail lightly against his thigh and inner hip. "Your wand, Mister Malfoy."

The same look of confusion and frustration clouded his features and he opened his mouth to speak, but the words were cut off.

"Father?"

Lucius practically shoved Mircea away from him, even as she was dashing for the other side of the room. Their anxiousness must have shown in their faces, because Draco gave them both a very odd look.

"Is everything alright?"

"Just talking about wands," Lucius answered smoothly. "What is it you wanted?"

As Draco asked his father where a particular potions element could be found in the Manor, Mircea scooted away quickly and did not look back. So she did not see Lucius's eyes following her as she left.

Author's Note: Lucius's wand is actually 18 inches. :-) So while it may seem a bit much, the credit goes to J.K. herself. I'm just willing to take advantage of it.