Chapter 5: Self-Destruction

August had just begun and Lucius rose stiffly from the chaise he had fallen asleep in. He never slept when in his room so he had taken to staying there until the early morning hours and then roaming about and napping in different hideaways throughout the Manor. He glanced out the window, into the sunrise, to find someone sitting on a bench on the lawn. He stopped, surprised, and looked closer. His lawn was not a place for casual visitors and it was early in the morning; his insomnia was the only thing that caused him to be awake at this hour.

It was Mircea and something else, something much smaller. She was petting it and staring across the dewy grass. Curiosity got the better of him and he told himself it would only be for a moment. After their last interaction he had told himself to avoid her when possible.

It angered him that she had such an effect on him when he had so little effect on her. He had tried being vulgar around her to anger her and she either snapped at him over it or turned it back on him in a way that gave him goosebumps.

Lucius was halfway to her, when he realized his shoes were soaked in dew and he began to grumble to himself. So it wasn't until he was standing next to Mircea that he realized the animal with her was one of his white peacocks.

"Good morning, Grumpy. Have you come all the way out here just to ruin the peace and quiet?"

"But of course," he groused at her, before realizing he could just repel the water around him. Cursing himself quietly, he performed the charm, making himself and the area around him dry. He then focused his attention on Mircea.

"I see you've found one of the peacocks," he remarked as emotionlessly as possible.

"And now I've found two," she replied with a smirk.

It took him a moment but Lucius quickly remembered their rather infamous fight over their first dinner together where she had called him a peacock. A grin flashed across his face.

"'Damn fine to look at,' if I remember correctly."

Mircea did not look up from the peacock that she was now feeding. "It is objectively true, Mister Malfoy."

His eyebrows quirked, and a smile grew. "And how would that be, Miss Elaide?"

She looked him full in the face with a very passionless expression, but he could tell he was being analyzed.

"Well-groomed, excellent taste in clothes, strong jaw, fair skin, light hair, high cheekbones, broad shoulders but narrow hips, tall…" she listed each while vaguely pointing to the feature. She met his eyes again. "And eyes full of money."

Lucius bristled inwardly at the very thinly veiled insult, but his pride had been stroked enough that he did not react. Many witches had always thought him attractive, but hearing Mircea say so was different. She was not the kind to give false flattery.

"Seeing as I am such a sight for sore eyes, I don't suppose my presence would offend to terribly."

Again, the Lucius trait of asking a statement-question. She rolled her eyes but nodded. "By all means, Lucius, take a seat."

That night Lucius stood before the full-length mirror in the master bedroom and examined himself carefully. She had said he was objectively attractive but his vanity did not believe her now that he was removed from the gaze of her dark eyes.

His skin was beyond pale, only just now coming out of grey and translucent. His eyes had massive bags and deep dark circles, though they still had their piercing gaze. He had given up on the idea of shaving every day, and quite honestly it did his face some favors. And then there were the numbers. Lucius clenched his fists, resisting the urge to try and rip them physically off of his skin. He was branded and marked as a criminal.

Vividly, the last time he had stood before this mirror came back to him. It had been the night of the attack on the Department of Mysteries. Narcissa had helped him dress in his Death Eater robes and her eyes had been so sad and so distant. He had told her that this was for her, for her and Draco, but she had only nodded and walked away.

Lucius clutched at his head, almost in physical pain as waves of memories tore at him.

His son had left his inquest. Draco had walked, red eyed, from the room before his sentence was even pronounced. He had so little faith in his own father…

And at the last Death Eater meeting, he had been 'gifted' Voldermort's memories of killing Narcissa. They had hunted her to the Black Forest. She had been Crucioed until she was beyond even Frank and Alice Longbottom, every opening on her face and hands bleeding. Then she had finally been allowed to die.

Lucius sank to his knees, grasping for a shirt, which he managed to pull on as his vision swam.

His wife, blonde and delicate, lying on muddy ground and twitching in fatal madness…

His son was now a Death Eater. Led like a lamb to slaughter by their fear of what would be done if they were to refuse. His young son had been ordered to kill. And not only to kill, but to kill the greatest wizard of their time. Now Bella was trying her very best to wind herself around Draco…only Mircea's presence prevented it.

Lucius tried to stand and stumbled over into the vanity table, which collapsed under his awkward weight. He lashed out and the mirror exploded in the burst of wandless magic. He lay with his hands covering his face, bent double and breathing hard. Lucius did not cry; he simply tried to fight off the waves of rage that threatened to drown him.

Mircea had been in the study below the master suite when she heard him fall over on the table. She was on her feet in moments and flying down the corridors. She was outside the door when she heard the mirror explode and Draco came running moments later.

"You go in. We don't have a good track record with me surprising him," Mircea ordered and Draco unlocked the door.

Both of them gasped involuntarily. The sight of Lucius curled double and bleeding was pitiful.

"Give me your wand," Mircea snapped at Draco.

He flinched away from her automatically. "Like hell!"

"Boy, if I have to take that wand from you, you will sorely regret it."

With a nasty scowl, Draco gave her his wand. She murmured something and flicked her wrist nothing happened.

"Heal him and get him dressed. You know how he is about that."

"But I can't heal–"

She rolled her eyes at the boy. "Of course you can! Unicorn hair? It's not like that wand is good for anything else."

Draco blushed scarlet but did not counter her. He had kept his wand core very quiet, hoping people would not realize what Mircea had surmised with one test spell. But Lucius let out a rather alarming groan and began grasping at handfuls of carpeting at that particular moment. Draco was truly worried about his father and knelt beside him, healing his father's bleeding face and hands.

"Where's your Pensieve?"

"Pensieve?"

Mircea lost her temper quickly; Draco could be the thickest idiot in the world at times. "Pen-sieve! Where. Is. It?! You're an old, rich family; I know you have one."

Draco glowered at her but explained where it was hidden in the study. It was rare and very expensive and his father would kill him if she messed it up. But his father looked like he wanted to die anyway.

Mircea darted off down the halls. Once she found the actual basin, there was still the problem of transporting it. She finally decided to levitate it upstairs and just hope madly that Bella didn't show up along the way. When she reappeared, Draco had managed to coax his father into a shirt, waistcoat, and necktie. The boy looked nearly as bad as the father, but Lucius's wounds were impressively healed. She made a note to remember it; that was the most useful thing about him. Lucius was slouched in a chair and Mircea gently landed the Pensieve on a sidetable next to his chair.

"Get them out, Malfoy," she ordered.

He only shook his head, groaning again and lurching forward. Mircea caught a handful of his hair and pulled his head back so he had to look her in the eye.

"Damn your pride! Take them out!"

Lucius met her eyes and was surprised by what he found there. She was not angry, despite the tone of her words and the strong grip she had on his hair. Her eyes were concerned. Like a man about to kill himself, Lucius put his wand to his temple and pulled away a thick strand of pearly memory. It dropped into the bowl and Mircea could hear the chaos of screams that reverberated from the many memories before they diluted in the bowl. She let go of his hair and eased him back into the chair he sat in. Behind her, Mircea heard Draco exhale loudly; he must have been holding his breath subconsciously. Lucius looked better, though pale and in a cold sweat. He hastily checked his necktie before relaxing back against the chair.

Draco was the first to break the silence. "How did you know…?"

"Experience. Memories can rend and tear…"

"So you have…memories somewhere else too?"

"Indeed."

Draco let the subject drop. It was clear from the tone of her last word that she would not say more about it to him.

"Draco," Lucius rasped, sitting up. "Draco, I'm so sorry."

Draco stared fixedly at the carpet but Mircea could see his ears turn red. He nodded vigorously.

"May I have a moment with Miss Elaide?"

Draco nodded again before heading for the door. "I'll wait down the hall."

Lucius nodded and watched his son leave in silence. When the boy had left, he turned his attention on the witch standing in front of him. Her age seemed to be showing as much as his own tonight, her face creased with dark circles under her eyes.

"Why did you ask me to stay?"

"Simply to thank you, Mircea."

Mircea mulled over her response. She knew he was being, for once, unguarded and sincere, and she decided to meet his honesty with some of her own.

"My name's not Mircea."

Now Lucius was intrigued. "Then why does the Dark Lord…?"

"Mircea is what they all called me. But it's not my first name."

Lucius was too curious, and he pressed her about it.

"It's Persephone," she answered him quietly.

"The goddess of the dead…?" There was none of the sarcasm she had expected in his voice.

"Yes."

She moved to the chair by the vanity table, perching on the very edge of it. Lucius remained in the chair with his eyes closed long enough that she began to wonder if he was asleep. But eventually he opened his eyes and stretched languidly, again reminding her of a cat.

"The name suits you," he murmured, returning easily to their conversation. He walked over to where she was perched, and held his hand out to her slowly. "Thank you then, Persephone."

She slipped her thin hand into his broad one and smirked up at him. "Don't worry. It won't happen again."

Mircea called Draco back into the room as she slipped away down the hall. Instead of returning to the library, though, she darted through isolated corridors back to her own room. Her trunk was mostly empty and she pulled it out from under the bed. The lid was intricately carved, as much an heirloom as a practical case, and she ran her hand across the twining vines and branches. Her hand rested on one of the branches for a moment before she slid back a hidden panel in a branch.

Resting in the nook was a slightly glowing vial. Mircea picked it up and held it in front of her face. Silver threads twisted and spun in the vial: memories. Memories of her mother's death, of her father's betrayal of her mother, of the Ministry's betrayal of her father, of her father's murder, of her life alone after that, of the last war…memories that she, like Lucius, could not live with. They had torn her apart in a very similar way, though she had not been as lucky; no one had found her until a full day had passed.

Every time she held the vial in her hands she had a strong desire to smash it, to let the memories float off on the wind. But they were a part of her and she could not quite let them go. Mircea pulled her hair down and massaged her temples and scalp, trying to ward off a headache.

No one had called her Persephone in years. Not since her father had died.

Even though the memory was in the vial, enough of it remained in her mind that she returned to it now.

She had been with him, on holiday from school. The Ministry had promised him witness protection, but they had lied. So her father, the traitor and the reason her mother was dead, had to run. He had met up with Mircea for a week in France, hoping to enjoy some time with his daughter, and they had found him. It had always been a matter of time; her father was not clever enough to evade them forever. They had given Mircea her scars, these Dark wizards her mother had served, and had carved her up before healing them in the most grotesque way possible. And when her father had come for her, they had killed him in front of her.

Mircea's hands were in fists and she jammed them against her eyes. The memory was only an echo of the true memory but it took everything in her not to cry, even after twenty-five years.

Bella and Fenrir had finally been given something to do that sent them away from the Manor, largely recruiting werewolves and vampires. Mircea had openly mocked Bella for being sent after the vampires though she did worry a bit that Bella might get bitten just so she could attack her.

So Draco and Lucius were able to spend much more time together, something that pleased both of them. But they were not the only ones who saw more of one another. Somehow it had become nearly impossible for Lucius and Mircea to avoid one another. Whether consciously or subconsciously, they were now always attracted to the same rooms and the same parts of the house. So Lucius noticed quickly one evening when they found themselves walking through the halls together and Mircea seemed out of sorts. But why did it bother him? What did he care if she was upset or not? It irritated him that she had made him care, even if very slightly.

"You seem even less agreeable than usual. What is it?"

She made a face at him but answered. "I miss real food."

"Real food? Is what you're eating not palpable enough for you?"

Mircea scoffed. "All the food here has no flavor and when it does it's horribly disagreeable!"

"And what is it you would like?" She shrugged but he deliberately ran into her in jest. "Out with it."

"Lapsha…"

"Come on then."

"Why?"

"Do you want lapsha or don't you?"

Mircea watched him walk away before jogging after him. She was curious enough to go along with it, at least for now. He lead her down into the kitchens of the Manor, sending nervous house-elves away as he planned to take over.

"Can't be so hard," Lucius half spoke to himself. He poured them both glasses of wine, passing Mircea's to her carefully so he avoided contact with her. He then pulled some meat out of the icebox and set it on the table.

Mircea could not help but laugh aloud at the way he looked at it. "You should either cut it or use a cooking spell that will do so. It won't cook itself."

"Are you volunteering?" he snapped at her, before being pushed aside by Mircea.

"Give me that knife."

It made him a little nervous that she pointed to the biggest knife in sight but he handed it to her and she began to shave off slices of meat.

"Any eggs?"

After some hunting, Lucius was able to find some and handed them to her. It wasn't hard to notice she was laughing at him again.

"Yes?"

"With all due respect, you are useless!"

Lucius quirked his eyebrow at her before raising his wine glass in a threatening manner.

"You would not dare."

"Try me, witch."

"Oh, where's that famous Malfoy courage I've heard of and seen no evidence of?"

The wine hit her full in the face and she was legitimately surprised. She had assumed he was bluffing. Grabbing the first thing that came to hand, she flung an egg at him. It landed perfectly, cracking over the top of his head. The yolk slid down his forehead before he could catch it and wipe it away. Anger flashed in his eyes. Throwing a small bag of flour at her, Lucius exploded it in midair, not thinking about the amount of it that would end up on him. When he finished spitting it out and trying to brush it out of his face, he saw Mircea bent double and holding the counter for support. At first, Lucius was worried he had hurt her; he had only meant to anger her, not harm her. But when he looked closer, he saw her shoulders shaking in silent laughter and then she looked up. She had tracks in the flour on her face from where tears from laughing had spilled out of her eyes.

Mircea finally managed to control herself. "That was simply the funniest thing…" she began before relapsing into laughter.

Her laugh was infectious and in spite of himself Lucius was laughing as well. It had been a long time since he had laughed this hard and he could not lie: it felt wonderful.

But as with any bright moment in his current life, it was doomed to be short lived.

Lucius was standing with his back to the kitchen door, so he only saw Mircea drop to one knee without any apparent reason. A spell hit him violently, jerking him around and wrenching him into a similar kneel. He found himself staring at the Dark Lord's well-polished shoes.

"What in the hell is going on here?" The words were a low and deadly hiss and Lucius flinched involuntarily as Nagini began to slither across the kitchen floor.

"My Lord…we did not know you would be gracing us with your presence. Please deign to pardon our appearances."

Lucius felt creeping jealousy. He did not know what it was that allowed her to speak so clearly and easily, but he envied Mircea's quick tongue.

"It is not your appearances that give me concern, Mircea."

Voldemort walked over to her slowly and grabbed her by the neck with one hand, yanking her upward. "What concerns me is your lack of self-respect," he lowered his voice and leaned towards her, "after all of your fuming about the Ministry's sycophants. This and your persistence in ignoring direct orders."

Lucius could not see her, still in his forced kneel, but he imagined he could feel the heat radiating off of her furiously blushing face. Mircea winced as the long nails bit into her throat from the tightening grip.

"If you find you have too much time on your hands, I will simply have to relieve you of it. Is this agreeable, my pet?"

"Simply command me, my Lord, and I will obey."

"Clearly that is not the truth, little liar."

He threw her away from him, and Lucius heard her trip into the cabinets. He knew they were talking about him, but he couldn't get his head around exactly how or why.

Lucius was jerked up and forced to stand at attention as Nagini began to wrap around him, her head resting on his shoulder. He felt at though he was going to faint and a cold sweat broke out across his body. He could clearly see Mircea now, her neck bleeding and her eyes wide.

"Lucius Malfoy…" Voldemort moved in front of him. "You have been nothing but trouble since the moment you returned to me. Incompetent and obviously possessing too much spare time. Very well. You shall accompany me tonight on a rather special… engagement. I will find a way to make you of some use."

"Yes, my Lord," Lucius half gasped, looking grey and sick.

"Come, Nagini."

The snake and its master left. The remaining pair stayed standing for nearly a minute after the Dark Lord had left, and then Lucius collapsed.

Mircea was trying to sleep when a crash scared her into waking.

She drew her wand, shooting light onto the figure. Lucius lay on the center of her bedroom floor and a pool of blood was spreading across her carpet. After making sure this was not a nightmare, Mircea jumped out of her bed and yanked his Death Eater mask off.

Lucius had left with the Dark Lord in the late evening and Mircea had tried to ignore the gnawing dread that grew in her stomach. She had sent Draco to Spinner's End for the next few evenings, afraid that he might be a moving target after the run in with Voldemort. Snape had agreed to this out of his own affection for Draco; that was one small mercy.

"Lucius!" She slapped him across the face and his grey eyes opened, dull and clouded. He saw a familiar face surrounded by long curls.

Mircea sat back for a moment, her mind spinning. What if this was a test? The Dark Lord had ordered her to remain apart from Lucius. Was she expected to let him die? Or was this simply Lucius appearing in a room where he knew someone would be and needing help? In a flash it was clear to her the depth of the manipulation that was sucking her in. Voldemort did not care one way or the other for the Ministry; they were just in his way. But he had counted on her anger and now he was angry that his games were not working, even if accidentally.

Lucius coughed, causing blood to gush from the wound and he groaned loudly in pain. Making up her mind, Mircea began to feel across his body, searching for the injury. The blood was oozing from his midsection and her skin began to crawl. If it was a stomach wound…

With a snarl of frustration, Mircea carefully used her wand to cut back his cloak and robes. She pulled as much of the torn fabric off of him as she could manage, leaving him naked from the hips upward. Now it was much easier to see what the problem was.

When she probed at the gash Lucius cried out in pain loudly, trying to curl his body, and she pushed him down against the floor. Looking closely, she was able to see it had missed his stomach and vital organs. But it was deep and he was losing blood. She could not risk leaving him to get any medical supplies and she was sure Dittany would not be enough.

"Heal it," Lucius hissed at her, grabbing her wrist with his blood soaked hand. He was fighting hard for control, breathing loudly through his nose and his jaw clenched tight.

Their eyes locked and she nodded. "It will hurt."

"I will die if…"

She nodded again and concentrated on the wound. The flesh began to smoke and Lucius roared in pain, half crushing her wrist in his hand and then fighting to keep from yelling again. Slowly the skin began to knit back together, still smoking as it almost melted the wound shut.

When it was all over, Lucius fell back against the floor, panting and releasing her wrist. "What was that?"

"It's very old… I don't know newer spells… Not for this…" Mircea sat back so she was leaning against the leg of her bed.

"It felt medieval."

"What happened to you?"

Lucius did not want to say, but she had saved his life, even if she was an appalling healer.

"The Dark Lord needed a decoy. I was to distract Aurors but I was not made aware of this until…"

She stared at the floor. He had been shoved under the bus, thrown out in hopes that he would be harmed and possibly killed and to shield Voldemort. If this was how he treated a man who had once been most favored… But she cut that line of thinking off right there. She could never end up like Lucius. She was not nearly as stupid and took much less for granted. Mircea was now able to survey the rest of him and she went to that to distract her mind. Bruised and cut with a black eye, but the wound in his side had been the only real danger. But he was still lying on her floor in a pool of his own blood and covered in gore.

"I'm going to move you to your room. Brace yourself."

The Apparation could have been smoother, as Lucius let her know with a string of swearing, but she was distracted. The wound could be reopened if he tried to walk or jerk around, but he couldn't be left in this state and he couldn't remain on her floor.

Mircea gently Levitated him across his bedroom and into the bathroom. She was momentarily surprised at the huge marble bathtub. If she lay him in it and left him he could sink under the water and, in his current state, he may very well drown from not having the energy to save himself. Sighing, she lowered him in and hooked one of her arms under one of his. With a flick, the water gushed out at a nice middle temperature.

The water was a bright pink as it washed the blood off of the half dressed Lucius and she was trying to think of a way to clean the water when Lucius spoke to her.

"That potion next to the wash basin. Labeled 'Everclear.' Pour half of it in."

Mircea nodded and made sure he was gripping the side of the tub before doing as he had said. The water began to clean itself, clearing away the blood and dirt and sweat until it was clear once again. She turned off the water when it reached his chest and again surveyed him.

"Tilt your head back."

Lucius complied and Mircea began to pour handfuls of water over his hair and face, washing out more blood. Leaning forward, she carefully ran her hands over the new scar, removing congealed blood so she could inspect her work. It was closed and would remain that way so that was enough for her. Leaning back again, she worked her hands through his hair, washing out any remainders of the blood and dirt, and carefully avoided his gaze.

When she finally knelt beside the tub, he looked much better and she guardedly admitted to herself that this made her happy.

Lucius was searching her face and he indicated for her to lean forward. Mircea did so and he gently used his wet hand to wipe blood from her face and shoulders, where she had smeared it in her haste.

"Persephone…"

The name was half breathed and half spoken and suddenly the bathroom felt very hot and the air seemed heavy. He was giving her such a look and she could not stop her eyes from roving over his soaking wet body.

Lucius rested his hand on her shoulder, following a bead of water with his eyes as it fell from hid hand and ran down between her breasts. Slowly he slid his hand down along her arm. He wanted so badly to pull her in with him, into the water and the warmth. And her expression…with her lips partly open in a slight, seductive moue…

But his hand brushed across the scar on her arm and broke the spell. Mircea jerked out of his reach as quickly as he pulled his own hand back into the water. Their expressions mirrored one another: now distrustful and wary.

"I suppose you won't go and drown yourself now that I've gone to the trouble of healing you?" she asked sarcastically, standing and feeling a need to cross her arms across her chest.

"Some trouble. Using ancient spells. Lucky you didn't go and get the leeches."

She snorted at him. "Next time you may not be so lucky."

Note: Draco's wand core also goes to J.K. and not myself. :-)