It's back! I could give many reasons but there isn't much point so just a big sorry to everyone! Should be more regular now.
Chapter 9: I.O.U.
Mircea's plans had worked. Her plans with others moving in them but definitely hers. And she was to be rewarded.
"This way, Miss Elaide," Pious instructed, smiling at her. It was hard for her to grasp that he was Imperioused sometimes, the spell was so flawless. Clearly, Yaxley had skill at such things. "You've been given a secretary as well. The Ministry hopes he will be to your satisfaction."
"He?" Mircea asked incredulously.
Pious motioned her into a room and she stopped short. Lucius Malfoy looked up from the desk he was at indignantly and with a hint of shame.
"Minister–"
"He was given to you with the hopes that your brilliance and your obvious influence over him might balance his stupidity. I will leave you to your work." The tone was clear: this was not to be discussed.
The door closed and Mircea stood facing it for some time, her back still to Lucius.
"Aren't you going to say something?" she whispered without turning around.
"Would you like some tea, Miss Elaide?" Lucius watched a blush creep up her neck and ears. She turned around slowly.
"Don't, Lucius."
He rose just as slowly and crossed to her. He bowed low, maintaining eye contact the entire time. "I am yours to command. Do with me as you wish."
"Then I'll fire you and they'll reassign you."
"If you are displeased with my service I will be punished. This was made very plain to me."
"I don't want you to…"
"And why not? You would have lept at the chance mere weeks ago."
Why indeed? What it came down to was that Mircea could not imagine going back to his bed every night after having him serve her in this manner every day. And she valued that more than she valued the pleasure of his forced humility.
"It's different now. You know that."
"So you will refuse?" Lucius was angry at how eager, how servile, his voice sounded in his own ears.
"We cannot lie about something like this. It's dangerous as it is." Mircea was cut through by the look of betrayal he gave her. "Lucius, you know it is true. You must either go and suffer the consequences or be here as what you are supposed to be."
Lucius felt ill. He must have looked very low indeed, because Mircea took his hand in her own.
"You know what they are trying to do. Don't give in to them. Do your job on your own terms and make me regret having you here as I am sure only you are so capable of doing."
Lucius could not help but laugh softly at the jab. He was also intensely aware of the feeling of her hand in his own.
"Very well." Reluctantly, he let go of her hand and took a seat behind his desk. "Would you like tea?"
She looked at him questioningly and finally answered, "Yes."
"Then get your own bloody tea," he drawled back at her before leaning over a roll of parchment and beginning to write.
Mircea was still laughing when she closed the door to her office.
Fall had officially embraced England when Mircea took the chair across from Lucius's desk and sat staring at him. He put down his quill and set his glasses to the side. She usually just crossed into her office and only came out if she needed to do something or was bored.
"What is on your mind, Persephone?"
She bit back a reprimand about using her given name and kept his steely grey eyes in her dark ones. "I need your help."
"You need me to file something for you?" Lucius snapped sarcastically. He was in a foul mood. He could not hardly leave the office without open harassment and insubordination. The only witches and wizards who showed him any respect were Mudbloods on trial and even they openly stared at the numbers on his neck. Today, Yaxley had dumped a pile of papers into his arms and told him Mircea needed to see them and they needed to be brought back within the hour. The jerk from the elevator leaving had sent everything he carried cascading to the ground and Yaxley had walked away laughing. He was, of course, late since Mircea had taken one look at the pile and started cursing a blue streak; she should have seen the papers over the course of the week and not in a huge last-ditch effort.
"The opposite. I need you to destroy some files."
"You're mad," he snorted at her, leaning back in his chair. "And what if I refuse?"
"Then I may be arrested and after that who knows…"
His eyebrows darted upward. "You're not going to threaten to fire me?"
"We both know what that would mean and I will not do that." Mircea's face had not changed during the entire conversation but there was an unmistakable softness that appeared in her voice now. Lucius stood and began to pace the office, spelling it with the same web they used each night.
"What is the complication?"
"They are checking people's boodlines and backgrounds."
"You said you were a Pureblood."
"As I am. But a traitor is hardly a desirable relative."
"That's not enough for you to come to me with this request. Your family history is openly known. Tell me what it is you want or deal with this on your own."
"Wrong, Lucius. My family history is not openly known."
"Then why did Bella...?"
"Why does Bellatrix ever know anything? She has big ears and Dark Magic and plenty of people who are scared of her."
Lucius leaned against his desk, staring into space. It would seem there was quite a bit about her that he knew and others did not. So why ask this of him? Was she trying to get rid of him? Did she feel he knew too much? This could very well be a suicide mission depending on how her files were classified. He wouldn't admit it to himself but he was hurt by this request. He had begun to think...fondly of her. And now this.
"I am waiting for an answer," Mircea reminded him tersely, winding and unwinding a fold of her skirt around her fingers.
"Who was it that recruited you?"
She was not sure what this had to do with his answer but she told him. "Severus Snape."
"Take this to him then."
"And why will you not-?"
"Your drudge I may be but I am not required to throw myself the the wolves for you. After all, could I seriously expect you to defend me if I were to be caught?"
"You think I would ask you to do this and then sacrifice you for myself?"
Lucius leaned forward and placed his hands on the desk between them. "I do."
Mircea's eyes were wide. He was the one who had cornered her into admitting she trusted him. Why was he doing this now?
"I am asking you as-"
But he cut her off. He did not want to hear what she had to say anymore. He had nearly allowed himself to be entangled with this woman and now that ship had sailed.
"You have my answer. You're on your own."
"You worthless, selfish, coward!" Mircea shouted at him, standing with her hands balled in fists at her sides.
"Self-preserving," Lucius hissed at her through gritted teeth.
"Yes!" she shrilled in return. "So much so that you will be the only one left standing after you've stuck a knife in the back of anyone who has lowered themselves enough to help you!"
"Oh yes, you are very charitable, Miss Elaide." Lucius was shaking he was so angry. "So charitable as to fling a man's suffering in his face, to crush him under your heel whenever the opportunity presents itself. But your over-inflated sense of vengeance and your self-righteousness will be the end of you and I will dance on your grave."
Luckily, Lucius ducked when he saw her hands move. The wall behind him sizzled and now had a gaping hole in it, and the door to Mircea's office slammed shut so hard it rattled the wall.
This event kept them apart for a solid week, each of them teetering between hexing the other when their back was turned or apologizing to one another. They traveled to the Ministry separately, avoided all contact as far as possible, and slept alone. Or rather, Lucius sat in the dark smoking and nursing a drink, and Mircea woke in cold sweats and screaming.
It was a matter of principle Lucius told himself. She had always been haughty with him, but she was as deserving of misfortune as he was.
Mircea was worried constantly. Any day she could be called up for examination and then what? How could she defend the actions of her parents? This, combined with Lucius's second warning of the fragile nature of importance among the Death Eaters, swirled into dark dreams that haunted her.
Things changed, however, when Lucius overheard Rowle and MacNair talking in an elevator.
"Unreal. I've never heard a sound like that in my life. Nearly killed her on the spot."
"Who?" Lucius asked, expecting to be regaled with some Muggle-hunting story.
"Your boss," MacNair sneered.
"She's not my anything. What was wrong?"
"Worried, Malfoy? Have your sights set a bit high?"
Rowle did not expect to have a wand in his face so quickly, but it sped up his account of the event. "She was sleep walking at the Manor this morning and screaming her head off. Your son subdued her but she's got a wicked fever."
The next time the elevator doors opened, Lucius was out and headed for the Floo network.
When he arrived home, Lucius found Draco sitting and reading the Prophet outside of Mircea's rooms. "Heard what happened from Rowle. What's wrong with her?"
Draco met Lucius's eyes more evenly than he would have expected and shrugged. "Her mind's overwrought. She needs rest."
"What can be done?" Lucius was honestly surprised that this bothered him as much as it did. The little bitch had tried to get him axed and here he was, worried because she had a fever. But he was worried, as much as he did not want to be, and he was beginning to think he would have a mental breakdown as well if he did not get a real night's sleep soon. He needed her back in his bed and that would never happen with the two of them like this.
"Well, father, if you know what's bothering her, fixing it would be a good first step."
Lucius rankled at the tone his son was taking, but it forced him to notice just how much Draco was growing up. He bit back the reprimand about attitude. "And if I have no desire to fix her problems?"
Draco shrugged again and went back to his Prophet. "Then she'll wake up screaming and in a fever. And it won't be anything to you at all, will it?"
When Draco looked back up his father was gone. He smirked and quietly entered Mircea's rooms. She stirred in bed and opened her eyes.
"I heard Lucius," she murmured as he checked her fever.
"He's worried about you."
"He's an idiot." She rolled over and drifted off to sleep again.
Draco watched her for a while before speaking out loud. "You do have that effect on him."
When Mircea arrived at the Ministry the next day, Lucius was blocking her path to her office, leaning back against the door. "Welcome back."
She ignored him and tried to push him off of the door. This effort was obviously unsuccessful since he was a much bigger person than she was.
"Is there something you want, or should I call vermin control?"
"I have something you want."
Mircea could feel herself blush and she looked up into his grey eyes. Oh, did he ever.
Lucius felt a wave of heat wash over him unexpectedly as she blushed and her pupils dilated. He thought unaccountably about how she felt in his arms first thing in the morning.
"Here." His voice was huskier than he meant it to be as he pulled the file from his suit and handed it to her. He watched as she flipped through the parchments in surprise.
"You got my file… Why?" Her voice had gone from the cold tones she had always used when they first met to the voice she used when it was only them.
"I'd rather… sleep soundly than be right, I suppose."
Mircea was shocked. He had cursed, threatened, and deliberately ignored her for a solid week, and yet he had still done this for her.
"You owe me, though, witch. Nothing's free in this life."
As he was walking away, Mircea caught him by the arm. "Thank you, Luicus."
A smile appeared on his sharp and aged face. "I'll have those words engraved on something if you aren't careful."
"See the posters?" a witch next to Mircea asked as they walked toward the elevators.
"No." Mircea looked up from the scrolls she was perusing and noticed them for the first time. The letters were glittering silver with a greeny cast, like an underwater lake. The script read "Dragon Ball."
"Oh for the love of Morgana!" Mircea scoffed, beginning to read again.
"It's to gain support for the cause. Show that we do not skimp on those who know where their allegiance should stand."
"And whose bone-headed idea was that?"
"Wasn't it yours? That's what they are all saying."
Mircea stared at the witch for a moment before changing direction abruptly and heading for a different hall.
"But that was not my idea," Mircea was saying minutes later to Artemis Sudent, her superior at the new Ministry.
"Delores told me it was and I thought it was quite clever."
"It was sarcasm!"
"Well, the Minister approved it and it is happening in a week. He said to make sure you and your escort–."
"I can't possibly be expected to attend this thing, can I?"
"And why ever not? It is desired by the Minister himself and assuming that you are still hoping for the position you first expressed interest in…"
Mircea ground her teeth in anger. "Very well." She left before she managed to get herself fired. In the halls, she snarled at everyone who tried to congratulate her on her idea. She pushed into her office and ordered the nervous looking under secretary that was talking to Lucius to leave.
"Can you believe this 'ball' nonsense?" she fumed when they were alone. "The Ministry should be focusing its efforts on long term goals or short term that would result in the capture of Undesirable Number One!"
Lucius was holding something in one hand and looking at her with a very flat expression.
"What is it? What's wrong?"
"I am ordered to attend as well. Not only this but I am ordered to attend in dress that bears my Azkaban numbers clearly."
"Why?" Mircea asked, greatly surprised.
"All the Death Eaters who have been inmates are required to. To show the oppression of the former Ministry and our pride in the current one." Lucius practically spat out the words. He felt no pride in this Ministry. At least in the last one he had position and respect. Now he was a laughing stock and would have to wear his great shame for all to see, classing him with the likes of the Lestranges. But he had a plan; it had been spinning in his brain since he had first seen this order.
Mircea could read what he was thinking and gave him a look. "Whatever is in your head had better stay there, Malfoy," she warned. "If Dorat comes with the floor plans, let him through, but bar anyone else."
"I wish to cash in on the… favor you owe me."
Mircea turned to him slowly, stopping outside of her door. "Oh?"
"You attend this atrocity with me. You needn't be announced with me, but I'll not be left in some corner like a cat's paw. And you…" He knew it was thin ice and would be asking a lot but it was the most vital point. "You choose a gown that leaves your own scars uncovered."
Mircea's temper flared instantly and Lucius was only able to hold her off because he was prepared for her attack. She threw a blast of magic at him that, no matter how he shielded himself from it, pushed him back into the wall as if he stood on ice. Finally, he found himself pinned to the wall completely. Mircea pressed her face into his ready to rip into him when he managed enough strength to headbutt her. Cursing, she let him go and held her head.
"You think one file is worth that? You're a fool!"
Lucius rolled his eyes openly and clamped his arms around hers, holding her tightly against him and keeping her from reaching her wand. She shrieked but when nothing happened it was clear the room was spelled.
"Let me go!" she growled at him.
"Let us be honest for a moment," he purred into her ear, ignoring her feeble struggling. "I cannot sleep without you, nor you without me. Let's not put ourselves back through that farce again."
Mircea blushed and tried to fight harder, but it made little difference; Lucius was much stronger than her.
"Now then, your mission is to bring the East to the forefront of the Ministry and to throw light on the wrongs done in the past. A very noble cause, indeed. But why should we believe you? The East is dark and troubled. So show them; show them the evidence you bear on your body. Don't think of this as helping me; think of this as an opportunity for your cause."
Mircea stopped fighting him as his words sunk in and he let her go. He was playing her feelings, just as all the other Death Eaters tried to do. He was acting just like the rest of them: using her for his own gain.
The expression Mircea fixed on him was completely new to Lucius. She stood there, looking at him, before feeling the lump on her forehead.
"Very well," she said, and then, since there was nothing else to say, she left, shutting the door behind her quietly.
Lucius took a seat at his desk but found himself unable to work. The look she had given him had gotten under his skin. Maybe it was low to go about it this way, but he would not be made a fool anymore and she was in his debt. He brushed it off and pulled his mind together to focus on his work.
For the next week, Mircea did not bring up their deal, to the point where Lucius became paranoid that she was going to leave him hanging. However, her calendar had a block of time scheduled for dress shopping, and a large box was delivered for her at the Manor. Finally, the day before the ball, he ventured to bring it up once again.
"I have a dress and I will meet you there. I am sure you will be able to find me."
Without another word she pushed by him. When she saw him again later in the day, she acted as though nothing had happened at all. He absolutely could not understand her behavior.
He arrived at the ball at the same time as Severus, though the latter distanced himself quickly from Lucius. Lucius did not take it personally; he was toxic and this was a very public event. What he needed was some corner to hide in until Mircea arrived. Alas, this was not to be as some former associates heard him announced to the room and quickly caught him up in conversation.
As he tried to tune out the mindless blather, Lucius scanned the room. There were many new faces but only a few actually stood out. There was a witch that looked as though she could be part siren (terrifying, to say the least) and several men who looked as rough and wolfish as Fenrir. But most notably was a tall and attractive man standing alone and also watching the crowd. He had a jet-black beard that was perfectly manicured and his hair had shocks of grey at the temples. Lucius felt bitterness well up in him; he had once looked just as well groomed, healthy, and whole.
"Miss Mircea Elaide."
Lucius turned to where the doorman was announcing couples and individuals. He was truly astounded when he saw her. It wasn't simply her appearance. She did look lovely in a black satin dress with straps low across her shoulders and a full skirt. What caught his attention was how wild-eyed she looked. She was clearly extremely uncomfortable and almost daring someone to comment on the scar that was almost completely exposed across the front of her arm and chest. This was a woman who never uncovered so much as her elbows and she was dressed exactly as he had asked.
Lucius navigated his way over to her and slipped his arm around her waist before she could protest, leading her into a busier corner of the room. He lowered his voice, speaking almost into her ear.
"Why did you agree to this?" It was mostly rhetorical but he wanted to be sure.
Mircea could tell from his tone that he already knew so she gave up the idea of lying to him. "I asked you to help me as a… as a friend," she blurted out. " And I acquiesced to your 'request' for the same reason. You are the only person with whom I have any sympathy or understanding."
Lucius was flattered and surprised. He obviously thought of her as more than just someone living in his home, or his guard, or more recently his boss. But he was very cautious using the label of friend. He hadn't had any in years; there had been allies yes and at one point his wife had been his friend, but he had killed that long before. But yes, the more he thought of it the more he realized Mircea was his friend, as completely inadequate and trite that word was. He literally trusted her with his life.
"For Merlin's sake say something," she hissed at him, suppressing her embarrassment with anger.
In response, he simply took her hand to his lips, holding her eyes in his own. He could not bring himself to vocalize what he had thought, but he had always been good at showing what he felt.
"You look lovely. There is not a more impressive woman in the room."
Mireca did not know what to make of this side of Lucius. "Thank…you… I feel naked."
"It only adds to the fierceness in your eyes."
She cracked a smile at him. "All right. You're forgiven. Lay off the false flattery."
"I flatter but never falsely."
Mircea rolled her eyes, but the unsettled feeling that had plagued her for a long time was ebbing away. They were not just linked by the increasing number of secrets they shared; it was at least somewhat personal. And if it was personal, then there was a reason to work at improving the connection.
"Come on. I'm starving and people are staring at me."
Lucius smirked. "We can find some dark corner to curl up in and give them a reason to stare." Mircea socked him in the stomach "lightly" and he grinned in return. "No one would see your scars."
"I'm not Crabbe and Goyle. I won't guffaw as if I've half a brain."
"Thank Merlin for that. Let's eat."
Their evening was spent in constant awareness of the other's presence. They could not have stayed side by side through the entire evening, which is what they both would have preferred, but their eyes constantly found one another in the large ballroom. Lucius found himself constantly looking down to where he expected Mircea to be to make faces about the conversations around him, but she was not there. And Mircea had to bite back several comments that would have made Lucius laugh at the expense of whomever she was speaking to. But they were not the only ones aware of one another. The dark-haired man followed Mircea at a distance, seeking information about her casually as he spoke to people throughout the room.
"Dance with me."
Mircea chocked on her drink and Lucius acted as though he were helping her out. She had not heard him come up behind her. The party had died down some and she was considering leaving as she was busily hiding away in a corner of the room.
Mircea scoffed. "You get me to come in some fool dress and then you act as though my dancing will make anyone but you feel better. I tell you, I am a terrible dancer."
"Don't worry. You can stand on my feet."
She sighed heavily but took his hand willingly. He was being very sweet to her, so he must not have totally despised her for what she said.
Their hands met and Lucius took a firm grip of her waist. "Let me lead you," he murmured. Then, with a pressure on her side to show where she should go, he began to lead her in the steps of the dance. Mercifully, it was relatively slow, but Lucius still could not suppress laughing at her once or twice. She really was bad. And as they danced the rest of the world melted away. Their relationship had changed completely, becoming still more complicated and touching them both even deeper than before.
But that was brought to an abrupt halt when a man's voice spoke from behind Lucius.
"Surely this is not the best a woman of your beauty can find by way of a dance partner?"
The pair split up and Mircea looked up at the speaker. The man was about a head taller than her, taller than Lucius as well, and broad and muscled. And his voice had an unmistakably Slavic accent to it.
"Surely this is not your way of asking for a dance?" Mircea replied in a stony voice.
"Of course not. This is." He stepped closer to her and took her hand gently in his own. "Could I interest you in a dance?"
Mircea could see Lucius's tight and closed off expression out of the corner of her eye but there was really no way around it. Anyone else would be stupid to refuse this lovely hunk of man offhand without a reason. She nodded and followed him to the center of the floor, away from Lucius.
"Might I have the pleasure of knowing your name?" the man asked as he took her waist and began to lead her.
"Mircea Elaide."
An even and perfectly white grin split his features. "I've heard of you."
"Only terrible things I hope."
"Quite the opposite. I've heard you are formidable and determined."
"Good. I would hate to have anyone saying I was sweet and demure."
"Oh, one could figure out that much is not true from your eyes."
Mircea half smiled, turning her face away from him. "And what is your name? It is quite unfair, because I am willing to swear I have never seen you before in my entire life."
"And so you haven't. I was hired on yesterday actually. My name is Zhenya Sorokin."
"Russian, then?"
"Ukranian."
Mircea nodded. She understood the difference even if none of the Brits in the room would have. "You have the look of a Central Asian to you."
"That would be the Cossack in me."
"How exotic," she teased with a smile. "You said you were just hired on? What for?"
"Head of Eastern Magical Cooperation."
Mircea stopped dead, causing someone to run into her, and yanked her hands free of Zhenya's.
"Are you alright? You look…pale."
"I'm leaving. Good evening." Mircea pushed her way through the crowd, prepared to blast people out of her way if necessary. Lucius had seen her mood change and tried to intercept her at the door.
"Mircea! What is it?"
"He's the new Head of Eastern Magical Cooperation!" she hissed at him before shoving him away from her. Lucius stood back and watched her storm away.
Zhenya stopped beside Lucius as Mircea disappeared into a Floo grate. "What happened? What's wrong with her?"
"You took her job."
Zhenya caught Lucius's arm and Lucius gave him a look that clearly said he could get off of him or lose his hand. The other man pulled his hand back quickly.
"You work with her right? Can you put in a good word for me? I had no idea–."
"Exactly. You have no idea, so you're on your own." And without another word Lucius also headed to a Floo grate and disappeared.
Zhenya's jaw set tightly and his eyes narrowed. There was a bit too much personal tone there for his liking. He was interested in this woman and there was pressure for him to marry and raise his own standing. Marrying a Death Easter was his best option and he would not let this man get in his way. He would have to pay the blonde man a visit in the future.
Mircea's room was in a better state than he had expected it to be. His wide-eyed son had warned him that there had been screaming and explosions, as well as after shocks of dark magic. When he stepped into the room, he was almost knocked back by the heat. Everything in the room was engulfed in flame and Mircea stood in the middle of it, her arms limply by her sides.
"That bed is hundreds of years old!" he shouted to her over the roar of the fire. "Mind putting it out?"
With a wave of her hands, the fire went out and not a mark had been left by it on anything there. Lucius was able to send a repairing spell over the things she had blown up and reassemble a valuable chest of drawers.
When the room was as it should have been, Lucius turned his attention back to her.
"Well?"
"That man has my job. I was promised…" Her voice was low and hoarse.
"I am sorry for you."
She looked at him intently. "You knew this would happen."
"I had my suspicions."
He could see her eyes welling with tears though she clearly was fighting not to cry. "They betrayed me. I have given up everything for them and they…" She cut herself off as her voice began to quiver.
Lucius felt bad for her. It was one thing to be hard and expect your enemies to put a knife in your back, but it was another thing entirely when those you had bled for did the same. He had taken about as many wounds as the Muggle ruler Cesar and just when he thought he couldn't feel them any more…
"It is not right," he said without thinking. It was a quiet statement but full of angry passion.
"Lucius!" Mircea hissed at him, looking alarmed. She agreed but if they got caught talking like that they would be up before Umbridge in no time.
"No," his deep voice rumbled out and he crossed the room to her. He took her face in his hands and wiped away a tear with his thumb. "I deserve better than this. We deserve better than this."
"But there is nothing we can do about it." Mircea was held in the spell his eyes wove around her but she could not enter into some delusion of escaping this. They were in so very deep.
"No," Lucius said again, this time with a sigh. He let his hands fall back to his sides. "I suppose not."
The brief moment of intense intimacy passed and Mircea turned her back to him. "I will stay here for the night."
"As you wish."
After Lucius left both were occupied for most of the night hours with their own separate thoughts. Mircea's mind swarmed with anger, hurt, helplessness, and worry. But Lucius's thoughts were very different: he had unintentionally spoken in terms of "we" and Mircea had followed suit, as if it were only natural. Something had changed this night. Whereas before it had been Lucius and Mircea against one another, now it was the two of them against the world.