A/N: Whoops sorry guys, I fell off the wagon for a while there. I've been focused on editing a few stories I'm gearing up to post and then got sidetracked with an idea for a novel that needed to be outlined, then procrastinated on this chapter because there are some pretty heavy scenes coming up.
I also wanted to address something in the last chapter that some people were confused about (understandable in hindsight):
Recap from last chapter: There is a small part of him, though, that still feels something more than disdain for her. It's hardly more than a flickering flame, and he's tried to bury it many times before, tried to smolder it with sneering words and smirking insults – but it still occasionally reappears, usually when he's least expecting it.
Is this the reason why some of you thought Adrian had a super hot crush on Vivian? I just wanted to clarify that I wasn't alluding to romantic feelings. Rather, Adrian is feeling annoyingly empathetic and human where it concerns Vivian's wellbeing (bc he knows things she doesn't) and he's having trouble snuffing out the part of him that actually cares what happens to her.
On that note, now I sort of want to have Adrian and Vivian end up together for a while after Sirius goes to Azkaban. I wasn't planning on doing that but the more I write Adrian's character the more I want to see what that would look like. What do you guys think? Ya'll know Sirius is endgame and I think I've already warned you guys that there will be some Regulus/Viv in the future so…hmm maybe it's too much idk
I will have part 2 of this chapter up soon. I decided to split it up because it's about to get super heavy and I need to take a breather before diving into it. I'll be posting it this month tho so don't worry about me disappearing on you again
Sry for the long author's note but I mean I haven't been here for a few months so
Chapter Thirty Five | Fallacia consequentis
[Fallacy of the consequence]
Vivian can't even begin to count how many elitist parties she's attended throughout the course of her life, but she knows almost immediately that this one is innately different from all the others.
Malfoy Manor is swathed in darkness when she enters it. Besides a few quietly flickering candles floating above the foyer, the room seems encased in a thick array of shadows. There are no lamps casting off the darkness. The chandelier above is darkened. The large fireplace across the way is cold. But it is not the lack of light that has her pausing in the threshold. No, it is not that.
"My dear Vivian," Bellatrix coos. If not for the wild mane of hair peeking out of her hood – and, of course, for the sound of her familiar voice – Vivian would not have recognized her at all. She is dressed from head to toe in black robes, her fingers shrouded with dark lace gloves. As she steps out from the shadows on the other side of the foyer, she smiles.
More than the darkness, more than the hooded robe, it's that smile that sends a tendril of wariness through her.
"Bellatrix," she greets, keeping her back straight and poised. She battles back the urge to look away from Bellatrix's hard stare or to fiddle with the sleeves of her dress robes, knowing that both tells would give away her uncertainty. Instead, she stares straight into Bellatrix's eyes and says, "I didn't realize I was important enough to merit an escort. Or are you simply stepping out for some fresh air?"
A sharp laugh bursts from Bellatrix's lips at this, but it fades just as quickly. The silence that follows is thick and jarring.
"Come," is all Bellatrix says, ignoring Vivian's pointed words entirely. She reaches out to grasp Vivian's hand and pull her deeper into the foyer, where the sounds of the party can faintly be heard on the other end of the manor.
"You're acting odd," Vivian bluntly informs her, casting a look down at their joined hands. She tries to pull her hand back, but Bellatrix's fingers are like talons. They tighten all the more at her attempt.
This time, the laugh that leaves Bellatrix's throat is breathless and fluttery. There is a gleam of excitement lodged within it. Coupled with the swath of black robes and the way Bellatrix is gripping her hand, Vivian thinks it sounds almost manic. It certainly sends another alarm bell ringing through her.
Something is off. If only she knew what it was…
"Is Regulus here?" she asks, glancing around as Bellatrix pulls her into a large room filled with guests. Being around more people than just Bellatrix is something of a relief, but only just. She glances at Bellatrix, but before the woman can respond to her question, she hears her name being called above the clamor of the room.
The hope that Regulus is here after all rises up within her, only to be dashed seconds later when she turns expectantly towards the voice. The relief quickly turns to consternation. She has to fight to keep her mouth from turning down into a frown.
"There you are," Adrian says when he strides over to them. Vivian's annoyance turns momentarily to confusion at his words and the assumption that he had been looking for her. She feels her eyebrows jolt up.
"Did you need someth – hey!"
"Bellatrix. Thanks for finding her for me," Adrian says, grasping Vivian by the arm and hauling her away from the woman, who looks just as confused as Vivian.
Well, confusion isn't really the right word, anymore.
"What do you think you're doing?" she demands waspishly, trying and failing to dislodge his grip on her. Each attempt only has him sinking his fingers around her all the harder, until she swears she'll have bruises come morning. The thought doesn't exactly lessen her aggravation.
Neither does the face that Adrian appears to be ignoring her, for he doesn't bother responding to her question at all.
Not one to be ignored in such a manner, Vivian hisses, "What the hell is your problem?"
Her struggles to relieve herself of his grasp do not go unnoticed. Several men dressed in long black robes send the two of them leering smirks as Adrian pulls her past them, and she feels her cheeks smart with a furious blush at the knowing look in their eyes. The thought of them making such disgusting assumptions infuriates her.
She opens her mouth to demand answers, but Adrian calmly interrupts. "You should thank me for saving you from Bellatrix."
The nonchalant way he says this – whilst continuing to drag her bodily through the doorway and into the hall – makes her see red.
"Thank you?" Vivian spits. She releases a cutting laugh and sneers, "Yes, thank you so much for dragging me across the room and making me look like an absolute fool."
Adrian only casts her a cool glance over his shoulder and doesn't respond, which only irritates her further. He hauls her into a room down the corridor and finally lets her go once he swings the door shut behind them, enclosing them inside. The very moment he releases his grasp of her, Vivian turns on her heel and marches towards the door – only for Adrian to cross his arms and stand in her way.
She bites her cheek so hard it bleeds.
"Let me go," she orders in a voice so cold it could freeze hell itself.
Adrian quips a smile at her, though it's humorless and lacks any sort of amusement.
"No," he responds. "I've got a few things to say to you, first."
Gritting her teeth, she murmurs, "If you don't let me go, I swear to Merlin I'll hex you into oblivion."
Her threat only makes him snort. "That's cute," he sarcastically tells her.
Being called 'cute' by Adrian Mulciber is definitely not a compliment. Vivian reaches for her wand to make good on her threat – only for Adrian to roll his eyes and drawl, "What I have to say is in your best interest."
Vivian almost laughs at that.
"When have you ever had my best interest at heart, Mulciber?" she scoffingly wonders.
She's sure she must be imagining the gleam of regret in his eyes when she asks this question. In fact, she's positive she is, because there's no way Adrian Mulciber has ever wanted the best for her. And yet, for a moment, silence falls between them, and there's a strange and loaded quality to it that makes her pause, uncertain.
It is this uncertainty that has Vivian releasing a pent up breath and taking a step back. With a sigh, she asks, "What do you want to say, then?"
If he looks surprised at her sudden acquiescence, she doesn't notice. She's too busy turning around now to stare at the room he'd dragged her into. Her attention is split in two – she's hyper focused on the sound of him shuffling from foot to foot behind her even as she takes in the small tea room laid out before her.
As she stares at the pale yellow sofa nearly dripping in doilies, Adrian murmurs, "I told you not to come tonight."
She turns her head towards him but doesn't turn around.
"It's too late now, I guess," is her response, uttered with infuriating nonchalance.
She's not expecting the grave manner in which Adrian replies, "Yes, it is."
His words make her turn back to face him, eyebrows jutting up sharply. She studies his expression closely for a moment, but Adrian seems to have turned his focus to keeping his face devoid of all emotions. He is nothing but a blank canvas before her, his broad frame towering in the doorway as he stares down at her.
"If you want to survive the night, I suggest you stick by my side," he suddenly says, to her bewilderment.
Her eyebrows inch up a little higher.
"…What?"
He mirrors her expression, raising his own eyebrows when he tells her, "You can't leave, now. But you can still make it out of this in one piece."
The sudden dourness of his words sends another alarm bell through her. This time, it feels like a burst. She stares at him, trying to discern whether this is one of his games. To her own consternation, it only takes her a few moments to realize that he's being completely serious.
Swallowing back a sudden wave of fear, Vivian murmurs, "Regulus – "
"Regulus can't save you tonight," he cuts in. "If you're not with me, you're on your own."
His choice of words has her scoffing. "I'll never be with you," she starts to say, intending to follow it up with an insult. She doesn't get the chance to.
"Fine," he shrugs, eyes glinting at her through the dimness of the room.
He straightens out his dress robes and turns back to the door, but Vivian lurches forward before he can open it.
"Wait," she says, stopping just behind him. He does, turning his head to look down at her. Vivian frowns. "…Tell me what's going on."
Adrian, though, only sends her a dry smile and reaches for the doorknob. As he turns it, he replies, "You'll find out soon enough. It's a shame you didn't heed my warning." Then, opening the door, he murmurs, "If you change your mind…"
He sends her a look before turning away and sauntering back down the hall, leaving her standing there by herself in the dim, silent room. His ominous words circle through her mind with a vicious repetition, leaving her feeling conflicted and confused. Adrian obviously knows more than she does about what's going to be happening tonight, but why does he insist upon offering up these warnings? They aren't allies. He doesn't actually care about what happens to her, does he? After everything that's happened between them, she can't imagine why he would.
A frustrated slip of sound leaves her. She takes one last moment to gather herself before pushing out of the room and reentering the corridor. The sounds of the party are, once again, faint and ghostly. Muffled laughter echoes quietly through the night, followed by several sharp jeers and mocking voices. She tilts her head as a loud, laughing hoot splinters hauntingly into existence, still faint and muffled despite being louder than the rest.
Her eyes drift towards to the room that Adrian had pulled her out of some minutes prior, then she turns, without volition, towards the large windows at the end of the hallway. Another tendril of wariness threads through her, subtle and creeping.
Those sounds are not coming from the room she had just occupied.
Those sounds are coming from the back of the estate.
Adrian's ominous warning grasps onto her every thought as she steps towards the windows. She feels almost as if she has no control over her body at all as she drifts forward. There is a strange buzzing noise in her head that dampens all other thoughts but Adrian's voice, which spirals over and over with increasing tempo, matching the taunting jeers and shrieks below…
If you want to survive the night…
The real party seems to be going on outside, which explains the strange greeting she had received from Bellatrix in the foyer and the strange quiet of the manor. The yard is filled with people strolling through the decorative gardens and the well-kept lawn. There are long tables set up with platters of food and drink, and an enormous bonfire is set up in the center of it all, its flames reaching high into the night and sending bright plumes of colored smoke floating into the darkness. But it isn't the tables or the figures or the bonfire that captures her unwavering attention.
You can't leave, now, she hears Adrian's voice murmur at her as she stares at the cages set up just outside the ring of the firelight.
There must be about a dozen of them, though she doesn't attempt to do a proper count. It hardly occurs to her to try. She's far more focused on what's inside of the cages to bother.
It's sickening. Humiliating. She feels her stomach twist uncomfortably at the sight of the humans sitting behind the bars. Most of them are curled up as if they hope that, by making themselves appear smaller, they might receive less attention from their jeering onlookers. It doesn't take a genius to reckon that they're probably muggles. Her brethren would never do such a thing to a person with pure, unsullied blood.
They're wearing thin pieces of fabric that barely covers them and they're filthy, as if they've been dragged through mud and dirt before being thrown into the cages. There's no telling how long they've been held as captives, though judging by the haggard and underfed look of their frames, Vivian guesses it's been long enough to cause suffering.
You can't leave, now.
She sets her jaw, watching with grave, hooded eyes as a pair of black robes figures approach one of the cages holding a woman who seems younger than the others. It's hardly any wonder that she appears to be receiving most of the attention. Her body is as dirty as the rest of them, but even the grime can't hide the attractiveness of her form. She certainly tries to do exactly that, though, curling herself into a ball and not budging even when she is poked at with sticks through the bars of her cage by her taunting audience.
And it is the audience that also strikes Vivian as odd, though as she gazes down at the cages, she supposes she shouldn't find it odd at all. This gathering is most definitely not one of the usual elite parties she attends. If there are any of the usual journalists and Ministry personnel in attendance, then they are in total alignment with the Death Eaters. Every single person is wearing black robes, and they aren't the polished black dress robes that are common at these sorts of parties. No, these robes are swathing and dark. They drip down their bodies like shadows. Some of them wear deep hoods that shroud their faces from view. Others seem more comfortable to show their identity without apology. Either way, it's obvious that all of them, down the last, are members of the Dark Lord's inner circle.
And she is here. In the middle of it all.
Her heart does a strange and concerning wobble in her chest. She places a hand atop it, only to clench her clammy fingers around the fabric of her robes with a vengeance. She stares for several moments longer before turning on her heel and striding quickly down the hallway, her hand dipping into her pocket to grasp the smooth wood of her wand.
It doesn't offer anything but a flimsy assurance of protection. Her eyes are swimming with the sight of the cages, her ears ringing with Adrian's words.
You can't leave.
But she can and will. She certainly can't stay here, not now that she knows who else is attending this party. For the first time, she wishes she had listened to Adrian's warning after all. This all could have been avoided. She could be at home right now, curled up next to Sirius on the couch, prodding him into another amusing argument about – well, any number of things – and watching him get beautifully red in the face as his aggravation is roused…
The thought of Sirius calms her down enough to take a deep breath, though her heart is still hammering uncomfortably in her chest. She reaches the end of the hallway and comes to an abrupt stop, casting her eyes down the next corridor with a hesitant expression. She can't go back the way she came. Bellatrix might be waiting for her. It seems likely that the woman had been tasked to monitor Vivian in some way. She probably wouldn't have deigned to speak to her otherwise.
She's been to the Malfoy Manor many times in the past. There's surely another exit she could take that would allow her to avoid the front entrance. She clenches her fingers tightly around her wand as she considers this. Her mind is slower than normal, the usual calculating edge of her thoughts dampened with flashes of what she had just seen. It feels like she's trying to wade through molasses. Every attempt to think of an alternate exit is marred with images of cages and jeering, black-robed forms. Her racing heart becomes the backdrop of it all, pinching almost painfully in her chest despite the way she's just standing there, half enclosed in shadow, inactive and frozen.
A frustrated sigh escapes her. She reaches up to rub the center of her forehead and closes her eyes, pushing past those haunting thoughts to focus on what's important. She needs to get to the ground floor, first of all. The manor is enormous, but it seems like most of the guests are on this side of it. If memory serves, there is a small garden near the western dining room. She could leave the manor that way and then make her way across the grounds. From there, it will simply be a matter of getting far enough away to get past the anti-apparition spells no doubt covering the place.
The blossoming plan calms her down further. She turns to enact it, only to inhale sharply at the sight of the woman standing on the other end of the hall, watching her with expressionless eyes.
"…Narcissa," Vivian says. She pretends not to hear the way her voice wobbles.
Her old friend doesn't say anything at all in response. Tall and willowy, Narcissa stands just within the shadows and yet is a bright a shining light despite them. She is wearing gleaming silvery robes tonight. Combined with her pale features, she looks nothing like the dour figures roaming her estate.
Yet the haunted look in her eye seems alarmingly familiar.
"Are you lost, Vivian?" Narcissa coolly wonders, and steps forward.
Her tone is hardly surprising to Vivian. Though Vivian has seen Narcissa at quite of few of these parties during the last few months, she hasn't made much of an effort to speak with her. Out of all of her old school friends, Narcissa has always been the most observant one. Naturally, Vivian hadn't wanted her to put two and two together, so she had kept her distance.
And had missed Narcissa's wedding as a result.
Awkwardness clouds through her. She turns to face Narcissa with what she hopes is a calm smile and replies, "Not at all. I was just heading back to the party."
Her hopes that Narcissa will leave her to it are promptly dashed. Narcissa smiles back – calculating, shrewd – and murmurs, "So was I. Shall we?"
Vivian's expression turns slightly strained. She straightens her dress robes to disguise it, face downturned.
"I must say, I'm surprised to see you here," Narcissa says, approaching her. She doesn't give Vivian even a moment's warning before looping her arm into hers and tugging her back the way she'd come, thoroughly dashing whatever lingering hope had remained within her to enact her escape plan. Narcissa glances at Vivian out of the corner of her eye and coolly says, "You've certainly been…different, since graduation."
Vivian would have to be deaf not to hear the insult wedged into the word.
Scrambling to draw upon the remnants of their past dynamic, Vivian scoffingly replies, "Please. If by 'different' you mean 'busy', then yes, I suppose. Congratulations on your marriage, by the way. I was sorry I couldn't attend."
Her efforts take more effort than she can say. She nearly grimaces in wake of them, only barely managing to stave off the urge.
This is very awkward. She thinks it's a shame, considering their old friendship. Unfortunately this is just one of the many sacrifices that Vivian has and will have to make, she supposes.
Narcissa doesn't turn to look at Vivian this time. In fact, her voice is a smidgen colder when she responds, "Were you?"
When she doesn't follow this up with anything else, an awkward silence falls between them. Vivian purses her mouth and stares straight ahead. Narcissa's grip of her arm suddenly feels even more like a prison than it had before. Her thoughts spin with half-formed reparations to her prior plans as the end of the corridor approaches. She knows that, once she goes through the door at the end of it, her chances of slipping away unseen will be very low. But there's nothing she can do or say that wouldn't rouse Narcissa's suspicions even more than they already are.
Nothing, she supposes, save for honesty.
They are ten paces from the door when Vivian takes a breath and abruptly admits, "I was actually thinking about leaving, you see."
Narcissa is her old friend. They bunked together at Hogwarts for all seven years. Surely, out of everyone at this party, she wouldn't find this admission to be so terrible. Not when she had expressed her own doubts about the Dark Lord on several occasions back at school.
Right?
They come to a slow halt six paces away. Narcissa turns to look at Vivian – really look at her, this time – and sighs.
"I know," she murmurs. Her voice is not cold now. Actually, it's acutely soft. She turns, still gripping Vivian's arm, and whispers, "But they know you're here. Trust me, Vivian. You can't leave."
You can't leave, now.
Vivian frowns.
"Why does it matter if they know I'm here - ?"
"Vivian," Narcissa interrupts, her voice bearing a bewildering, frantic edge, "trust me."
What's even more bewildering is that Vivian does trust her. There's a light in Narcissa's eyes that takes her back to late nights in their dorm, whispering together about the latest gossip running through the halls of Hogwarts while Rosalie and Morrigan slept, unaware. Some past echo of their old friendship shifts through Narcissa's gaze, then. There is sincerity there. Caution, too.
Vivian frowns deeper, studying Narcissa's eyes closely. She wants to ask what she means by that. Why both her and Adrian had said that her leaving the manor is out of the question now that she's arrived. But suddenly a loud noise sounds from beyond the windows overlooking the back of the mansion, and several piercing cheers interrupt the silence. Narcissa straightens, her face blanketing of the soft expression it had bore only moments prior. Instead, she assumes a more unforgiving façade. Calculating and cold like winter made manifest.
"Come on," Narcissa says beneath her breath. She pulls Vivian through the door without another word.