The Iridescent Conclusion

Life, Alison thought bitterly, was just too complicated! And the life of a spy was especially complicated. Now, however, it had just got worse.

She hadn’t even wanted to go out this weekend; the plan had been to spend a nice quiet weekend with Jenna, Daniel and Oscar – the four of them together in her old house in Southampton. Well, that plan had gone out the window when Daniel had declared that he couldn’t be there!

Admittedly, the idea to go and stay had been very short notice but she would have thought that Daniel could change his plans in favour of seeing his sister and nephew. And then, just to further stir things up, Rabastan had owled her with an invitation to dinner just moments before another owl delivered orders from Fudge. How did Fudge know that Lucius Malfoy was holding a dinner party anyway?

So she’d done as ordered, responded to Rabastan, hired a suitable robe from Madam Malkin, argued with Jenna about the entire thing and had arrived at the Malfoy Estate at eight o’ clock sharp.

And there – right there – that was when things got horribly, dreadfully complicated!

As Rabastan had led her through the front door and introduced her to their host, who should be standing beside Lucius but her own brother!

There had been nothing that they could do; nothing that they could say. By the expression on Daniel’s face, he was as startled and disconcerted to see his sister as Alison was to see him. With regard to the company he was keeping, however, Daniel didn’t appear to have a clue. Fortunately, by some feat of silent communication and body language, Alison was able to ensure that he greeted her with the same faint smile with which he was greeting all of Lucius’ guests. All of whom were Death Eaters, to a greater or lesser degree, although none, she had to admit, had ever been in the public eye... with the possible exception of Rabastan but she doubted that anyone would recognise him without Rudolphus and Bellatrix.

Dinner had been... well, she thought quietly, dinner had actually been quite pleasant. The food was exquisite, the choice of wines complimented it perfectly and there was no conversation whatsoever that wasn’t engaging, polite and charming. No mention of Voldemort, muggle torture or anything at all that would interest Fudge, the MLE or Dumbledore’s Order. And of course nothing that would set Daniel’s inner alarm bells ringing.

There was, however, a slight atmosphere between Daniel and herself. He kept giving her long, sideways glances as he tried to silently determine why she should be on Lucius’ guest list.

She gazed across the drawing room at Daniel and Lucius now and wondered how long they had been an item. And was Lucius the lover whom Daniel had been with when the news of Thomas’ death had arrived? It made Alison sick with anger to think that Daniel was sleeping with one of the scumbags that had orchestrated Thomas’ murder. And what about Oscar? Lucius himself had sent Alison and Rabastan to track the spell towards Oscar when he was staying with Remus and Sirius!

For one very brief moment, she wondered if Daniel was involved in the plot himself. The next moment, however, she firmly rebuked herself for even thinking it. Daniel could no more follow Voldemort than she could and he’d been genuinely distraught over the death of their younger brother.

“You’re very quiet,” Rabastan noted, bringing her to the here and now. He placed his hand on her knee and squeezed none too subtly.

“Just a little warm,” she offered a weak smile. “Excuse me while I get some air.” And without waiting for a response, Alison stood and walked with casual grace towards the open French windows. It didn’t take long for Daniel to follow her.

“Just what in Merlin’s name are you doing here, Ali?” he hissed as soon as he drew near. Taking her elbow, he then steered her around towards the long greenhouse and Erind’s precious plants. “Are you checking up on me? How did you know where I’d be? Did Jenna send you?”

“Whoa! Hang on just a minute – never mind what I’m doing here; what in Merlin’s name are you doing with Lucius Malfoy?” she demanded a little shrilly, whilst struggling to keep her voice quiet. “I suppose he’s the secret you’ve been keeping from Jenna and me?”

“Don’t start,” he muttered repressively, “this is none of your business and I’m a big boy now.”

“Yeah?” she stared up at him with open irritation, “So big that you can make your own mind up, is that it?”

“Something along those lines,” he nodded, moving them on as more people stepped out to enjoy the evening air.

“And I suppose that includes the decision to take up with a Death Eater in Voldemort’s elite,” she curled a glossy lip in derision.

“Lucius isn’t -!” Daniel started to vehemently deny but then dropped his voice to a murmur as people turned towards them. “He isn’t a Death Eater anymore. He promised me.”

Alison stared at him in shock for a minute. “I can’t believe you could be that naïve,” she said, shaking her head. “So you don’t recognise the man’s house guests – I can actually understand that! But I suppose you didn’t know about Lucius’ attempt on a house in London? The same house where Oscar was staying?”

“What?” her brother frowned, looking puzzled and annoyed.

“Last Christmas, when Thomas was still on the run – or so we thought – Oscar was actually being looked after by two friends of mine. Somehow, Lucius found a way to track them, he cast a spell and sent that odious little creep, Rabastan, along to find out where the spell went.”

“No,” Daniel shook his head. He turned and paced down the length of the greenhouse and then walked back towards her. “That can’t be true; Lucius promised – on more than one occasion. He was genuinely concerned about Thomas – asked after... him.” And then, Alison saw, right there, realisation struck home and her brother seemed to crumple in towards himself for a second.

“Dan?” she reached out take his arm, “Are you all right; you’ve gone as white as a sheet.” Perhaps they should move outside again? The air in the greenhouse was heavy and warm, smelling of earth and assorted greenery.

“Oh gods,” Daniel whispered, starting to shake. “Ali, are you sure? Are you absolutely certain?” And then, without waiting for a reply, he went on, “Oh bloody hell, what have I done?” When his sister continued to stare at him in complete incomprehension, he explained. “Lucius always asked after Thomas; he seemed genuinely concerned.” He swallowed hard and grimaced, “What kind of a fool am I, Ali? I’m responsible for our brother’s death! Lucius said that we could send some presents to Oscar if we could track that red rucksack – the one that used to be mine and Jenna’s. He took some of my hair and sent a kind of -”

“... Hunter spell.” Alison finished. “But you’re not responsible for Thomas, Dan – I promise you! Thomas was already dead by then. That’s how my friends happened to be looking after Oscar. I’d bet what little is left of our inheritance that Lucius knew.”

Seeing Daniel go whiter still, she then hurried to find him an upturned plant pot to sit on. He looked truly awful.

“I can’t believe it,” he whispered over and over again, “I just can’t believe he’d betray me like that. Oh gods, Ali, do you think he gave the order for Tom to be killed? Do- do you think he might have...?” Unable to go any further, though, Daniel doubled over and threw up.

Alison promptly cleaned up with a wave of her wand and then glanced nervously over her shoulder. “Look, it isn’t safe for us to linger here; one of us is bound to slip up. I’m going to make my excuses and go but what will you do? Will you come with me?” She didn’t want to leave him; hated the idea of her brother even mixing with Death Eaters, never mind his current state.

“No,” Daniel shook his head. “I want to talk with Lucius.”

That was precisely what Alison didn’t want him to do, though.

“Dan, that’s a bad idea. If you corner him, he could turn on you. This is Voldemort’s right hand man, we’re talking about – always has been, always will be!”

“I know,” Dan groaned, leaning backwards and closing his eyes. “Now, I know.”

“So what will you do? I don’t want to leave you but...” But if she left with Daniel, her cover would be blown wide open and she wouldn’t be able to work for Fudge or Dumbledore anymore.

“You never told me just what you’re doing here,” Daniel said suddenly, looking at her shrewdly. “I thought you quit Auror Training?”

“I did. Never mind what I’m doing – as far as anyone’s concerned, we’re not related. Just be thankful that I took after mum!”

“Gods, yeah,” Daniel breathed. “You think I want those dimples? Cute on you, baby sister, but on me?” It was an inappropriate time and place for sibling provocation but it lightened the mood and allowed them both to adopt more composed expressions.

“So,” Daniel said then, “you go on, I’ll stay here and help Lucius play host and then...”

“Then?”

“Then I’ll talk to him. Don’t worry so,” he offered a small smile and pushed at the vertical frown line between Alison’s eyebrows, “I’ll be careful. And whatever else, Lucius loves me. I’m certain of that.”

She didn’t trust herself to respond to that but there was nothing else she could do. Her older brother was every bit as stubborn as her younger brother had been. With a final gaze into his eyes, Alison then nodded, stood and walked out of the greenhouse.

*~*~*

“For fuck sake, Vince! Hold him still!” Greg’s voice snarled from somewhere above Draco. Crabbe’s plate-sized hands pushed harder on his shoulders and then a solid weight – Greg – came down heavily on his thighs again. “Right, now hold onto him until the potion kicks in!”

For Goyle, the plan had probably worked like a charm – up to a point. It had been easy to lure Draco in; talking of a special night – the evening in the Three Broomsticks, a slow walk back to school with a promise of fooling around on the way – and then having Crabbe jump Draco while Greg was sucking his cock. And that was where it had started to go wrong for the treacherous bastards.

With Crabbe forcing Draco down to the ground in stunned surprise, Goyle had unstoppered the potion and forced it between Draco’s lips. But the potion burned and stung and Draco had gone into total, blinding panic and for a moment he had thrashed and kicked his way almost to freedom. For in that instant, Draco had been taken back to last September when his father had poured the caustic potion over his throat and Draco had lost his voice forever.

Now though, with Crabbe pressing down on his shoulders and Goyle’s substantial weight resting hard on top of his thighs and hips, Draco could only squirm and dig his heels into the hard packed earth. He fought hard to form a spell – a nasty Evisceration spell for both of them – but for some reason, he couldn’t remember the words or form the correct string.

And then, just as he had the first two words of the Evisceration spell, a throb of pain lanced behind his eyes and drew him to a gasping halt. Just as suddenly, Crabbe released his shoulders to clasp painfully at his left forearm.

“No!” Goyle snapped, “Don’t you dare, Vincent!”

“Sorry,” Crabbe muttered and then disappeared with a crack.

“Bollocks!” Goyle roared at no one in particular and then shifted his weight to stop Draco’s renewed attempt to escape. “No wait,” he urged in a tense voice, “in just a moment you’ll be begging to stay as close as possible!”

But Draco had no intention of hanging around and without Crabbe’s weight on his upper half, he was better able to twist and wrench free. With a sense of intense triumph, he rolled to one side, dislodged Goyle and then squirmed and wriggled sideways and free. In a heartbeat, he was on his feet and running...except...

Things weren’t quite right. The world seemed to pitch and whirl and his feet were unsteady on the ground. And even though he’d only run fifteen paces, his heart was thundering in his chest. Reaching out blindly, he sought purchase on a tree trunk and reached desperately for the magic he shared with Harry and Severus. A relaying surge no doubt made contact with them both.

‘Damn it, Draco!’ Severus snarled within his head. He tried to respond, to shout for help but no words formed in his head again and another wave of panic washed over him, coupled with the knowledge that Goyle was blundering after him in the darkness.

‘Draco?’ Sev called then, sounding worried.

But stumbling on, Draco had already moved his attention to Harry, who must surely still be in Hogsmeade.

“Give it up, Malfoy!” Goyle shouted, sounding shockingly close.

With a start, Draco realised that he’d come around full circle and was almost back where he’d started. And still the world refused to remain still around him. He struggled to focus, to centre on the magic again and call Harry but then a solid weight struck him hard in the chest and knocked him backwards.

There was a moment then, a moment of brief, almost peace when he could have just given in and accepted his fate. But then the Malfoy spirit kicked in and he snarled silently at his captor and sent out an urgent call.

‘Harry!’ Unsure if the message had got through, he started to call again but was cut off as a large fist connected with his left cheekbone and the world started reeling and spinning again.

“You just don’t get it, do you?” Goyle growled into his face, “And people call me stupid! Can’t you feel it yet, Draco? Can’t you feel the potion taking effect?”

As if the other man’s words were the catalyst, Draco suddenly found himself to be seized by a hot, dizzying sense of fever. He felt like he’d been plunged into a hot sauna and gasped for air as he felt sweat bead on his face and body. His eyes too felt hot and he –

“It’s starting now, isn’t it?” Goyle asked, sounding smug.

“Oh, please, Greg, if you wanted to get laid so badly why didn’t you just rape him?” A new voice demanded and, turning his head and peering blearily through streaming eyes, Draco saw Blaise Zabini step out of the shadows.

“Shut up!” Goyle barked, sitting up a little, “And why haven’t you responded to the summons?”

“Because my Lord said that he didn’t need me there,” Blaise shrugged and sauntered over. He gazed down at Draco then with an interested expression. “How much did you give him?” he asked lazily.

“Most of a phial,” Goyle replied, sounding defensive.

Blaise snorted and shook his head. “Bloody hell, Greg – you really are a moron! He’s likely to die before you even get his clothes off!”

“What?” Goyle stared at him stupidly.

“The potion is designed to be used as a drug: just two drops in someone’s drink is all it takes to get them going. If you gave Malfoy a whole phial, his heart will most likely explode!”

These words washed over Draco, making next to no sense. All he knew was that he was too hot! He scrabbled at the fastening of his robe and then moved to fumble desperately at the buttons of his shirt. So focused was he, in fact, that it took him a second or two to realise that Goyle was no longer sitting on him and the clearing was full of spell fire.

*~*~*

When Snape arrived, wand in hand, he found that Harry and his mystery beau were already on the scene. And what a scene!

Draco was sprawled on the ground with his robes and shirt open to reveal his smooth, sculpted chest, while Harry and Goyle were exchanging hexes and curses. Harry’s date, meanwhile, appeared to have Blaise Zabini bound and unconscious and was now examining Draco.

“Snape! Don’t just stand there – come and give me a hand!” the man shouted and with a start, Snape realised that the man was Sirius Black. He had to be; no one but Black could pronounce his name with quite so much venom and obvious distaste.

Harry turned then too, risking life and limb in turning his back on Goyle. “What’s wrong with -? Oh, for fuck sake! Ast il y a stasis!” he snapped, finally losing all patience and ceasing the exchange with Goyle with a well-aimed freezing spell.

“Harry, no Dark magic!” Sirius barked, the glamoured dark brown eyes seeming so like his own for a moment. His attention, however, was still fixed on Draco and, hurrying over, Snape drew a startled gasp.

As he stared up at them, almost unseeing, Draco’s glazed and feverish eyes were tinted a blazing shade of violet.

“They drugged him,” Harry surmised, stepping close too. He recalled the girl in the pub in Yorkshire, on the night that he and Draco had rescued Snape. “Those bastards! They were going to -!” He looked at Draco’s open shirt and bare chest then, “Oh, shit! Tell me they didn’t... they haven’t...”

“He’s done this himself,” Sirius supplied, laying one hand on Draco’s forehead. The younger man whimpered and tried to roll over, to press himself into Sirius’ touch.

“Careful,” Snape cautioned. “He’ll respond to the slightest stimuli right now.”

“How long will it last?” Harry asked, crouching down too. He watched as Draco tried again to press nearer to Sirius and then took pity on his godfather. “Come here, Draco,” he murmured and stroked one finger down Draco’s chest.

With a soft cry of yearning, Draco promptly rolled back and stared hungrily up at Harry before reaching out imploringly.

“I need to know how much he was given,” Snape responded, watching his ward with a slight frown. He turned then towards Blaise and woke him with a muttered spell before interrogating him.

It didn’t take long and although Harry was too distracted by warding off Draco’s enthusiastic advances to hear much of what was said, he did hear Blaise announce that if ‘Draco had put out for Goyle then maybe his treachery and cowardice could have been forgiven’. At this, the Potions master drew back his arm and struck Zabini hard across the face before reinvoking the spell to render the former student unconscious.

“We have to hurry,” he snapped then, striding back towards Harry, Sirius and Draco. “Draco’s been given a lethal dose,” he explained and then, ignoring Harry’s gasp of horror, went on; “And if I’m to save him, I’m going to need everything in my workroom.”

“What can we do?” Sirius asked immediately.

“Nothing.” Snape replied, too concerned to make any kind of caustic remark. “Just help me get him back to Hogwarts.” After a moments pause, he added, “Bring those two, as well.”

The look he threw at Goyle and Zabini was perfectly murderous and Harry found himself sharing his former lover’s sentiment entirely.

*~*~*

There were very few occasions when Harry had seen Dumbledore so angry that his blue eyes seemed to spark rather than twinkle and an aura of formidable power shimmered around his entire being.

This was one such occasion - although Harry himself was so furious right now, he could barely spare the energy to notice such things.

“I ask you for the third and final time,” the Headmaster spelled out very slowly, “what were your intentions for Draco Malfoy?”

And still Goyle lifted his heavy, fat chin and glared with ice in his small, piggy eyes.

At this point, Harry lost all reason. Snape had dismissed him from the dungeon, claiming that he could work better alone, and Harry had sat through the past ten minutes of smug, obstinate silence holding onto his temper by his very fingertips.

“Why can’t we use Veritaserum?” he demanded of the room in general. Sirius glanced at him with startled brown eyes but it was Dumbledore who responded.

“Because Professor Snape has such potions under his personal control and I don’t wish to distract him from his current task.”

“Then lift the bar on Dark magic and let me use Soto Suasoria,” Harry urged intently, “I can convince the... I can convince him to tell us everything.”

“Harry -” Sirius started to say, caution in his tone but Dumbledore got there first.

“Harry, I’m afraid you can’t do that. Not,” he hastened to add before Harry could object, “because I’m against such action – currently I could cast the spell myself,”

That surprised Harry; so Dumbledore knew Dark magic?

“But,” the old man continued, “because I have every intention of seeing both Mr Goyle and Mr Zabini go to prison for what they’ve done this evening. And no court will stand for the accused being interviewed with the use of Dark Arts.”

It occurred to Harry that, if Dumbledore had pressed charges against Zabini and his crowd in the first place, they might not be in the current situation.

“You can send us to prison,” Zabini remarked haughtily, “but I assure you that, within twenty-four hours my Lord – my master - will have released us.”

Sirius growled then, sounding very much like Padfoot. Harry turned to share a glance with him, to sympathise, but found himself suddenly face to face with Dobby.

“Harry Potter, sir,” the house-elf made a half-bow and then proffered a phial of clear liquid, “Professor Snape has summoned Dobby to give this to you. He says you’ll need it for...” Dobby then glanced apprehensively at where Zabini and Goyle sat, magically bound to their chairs. “He says you’ll need this to gain the truth, Harry Potter.”

“Veritaserum!” Sirius exclaimed and took the glass phial and passed it to Dumbledore.

“Dobby!” Harry caught the house-elf before he could disappear, “Did you see Draco? Did you see -? Was Snape with Draco when you saw him?”

“Dobby was only seeing Professor Snape,” Dobby replied, sounding apologetic. “Dobby is not seeing anyone else.”

‘Harry,’ Snape said then, his voice filling Harry’s head and making the young man gasp softly, ‘Draco is…’

“What?” Harry demanded, speaking aloud by accident.

“Harry?” Sirius frowned, looking at him. With a shake of his head, Harry gestured to indicate that the Potions master was speaking to him telepathically.

‘Find out what you can with the Veritaserum and then come down,’ Snape said then. ‘Draco is stable... for now. But I’m having difficulty finding a potion that won’t make matters worse.’

‘Is he...?’ Harry began and then hesitated, unsure of how to phrase his question. Since they’d found him, Harry had been getting very confused senses from Draco: indications that the blond Slytherin was in a high state of arousal and seemed to find everyone and everything sexually appealing.

‘He’s sleeping right now,’ Snape advised, clearly reading Harry’s thoughts. ‘I can’t put him under stasis because of the ban on Dark magic but we’re all right for the moment. Come down when you can.’ And with that, the connection broke and Harry found himself reeling in the realisation that this was the first normal conversation with the man in months.

Dumbledore, meanwhile, had administered the Veritaserum and, given a few minutes, it appeared to be taking effect.

“Tell me what your intentions were for Draco Malfoy,” Dumbledore asked, as if he hadn’t already done so three times.

“My father told me to have him ready for collection,” Goyle replied docilely with heavy-lidded eyes. The fight and obstinacy had left him entirely. “He told me to do whatever I needed to, but to get Malfoy to the meeting point outside Hogsmeade for midnight tonight.”

A glance at the clock on the wall told Harry that it was long after midnight but even so, the thought that a group of known Death Eaters had been so close was alarming. Sirius, too, he noted, glanced at the clock and sighed.

“You were to carry out this task with only Mr Zabini?” Dumbledore asked, speaking with deceptive calm.

Goyle shook his head. “Crabbe was supposed to be helping me – or so I thought. The plan was to give Malfoy the Seduceri potion with enough time for me and Vince to have some fun before Blaise came to help us get him out of Hogsmeade.”

The air shimmered around Harry for a moment and then there was a sort of vacuum before he realised that he’d just attempted to cast a Dark spell at Goyle. With a guilty start, he looked first to Dumbledore and then at Sirius. Although Sirius looked momentarily taken aback, neither of them looked as if they could blame him, however.

“So, you planned to take serious advantage of Mr Malfoy whilst he was under the influence of this potion?” the Headmaster reiterated with forced patience.

“Yeah,” Goyle nodded blithely, “but then Crabbe got summoned by the Dark Lord and that’s when Malfoy escaped. I caught him again, though.” He added, looking pleased with himself.

“Weren’t you going out with Draco, though?” Sirius asked, looking sickened and annoyed. The Headmaster was about to object to there being more than one questioner, but Goyle replied anyway.

“I let him think that I was innocent; uninvolved with the plan to silence him in September.”

“And the attack on me, on the stairs?” Harry asked softly.

Goyle nodded and grinned sleepily.

“Greg was taking orders from his father,” Zabini supplied then, speaking up for the first time since being given the Veritaserum. “He passed us the message that Malfoy had betrayed my master. And then, tonight, we were to give Malfoy to my master so that he might test Lucius.”

“He wants to test Lucius Malfoy?” Sirius repeated in astonishment. “Why? Lucius has been Voldemort’s right-hand man forever.”

“My master has questioned Lucius’ loyalties of late,” Blaise smiled thinly.

“Who else from this school is involved in your plots?” Dumbledore demanded coldly.

“Graham Pritchard, Anna Langton, Vince Crabbe and Hannah Abbott.”

Hearing this, Harry stood up in a rush and took an involuntary step forward. The idea that Hannah, the sweet blonde girl from Hufflepuff, could be involved in all this...
Harry shook his head in disbelief but then he recalled seeing her in the Three Broomsticks with Crabbe, Goyle and Draco. Why hadn’t it seemed strange to him then?

Before he could say anything, however, Dumbledore held up a hand to halt him and asked Zabini, “Are you certain? And is that all?”

“I’m certain,” both Zabini and Goyle replied together, “and yes, that’s all.”

“Then I see no alternative but to hand you all over to the Ministry,” Dumbledore said sadly and prepared to summon the MLE.

*~*~*

Hearing the front door open, Remus got up and moved quietly down along the hallway to greet his weary partner.

“I got your message,” he said softly. “Minerva said that you and Harry rescued Draco from some sort of ambush?”

Sirius nodded, pressed a heartfelt kiss to his lover’s mouth and then murmured, “John,” to release the glamour.

“Yes, that’s better,” Remus smiled warmly; “My Siri. So what happened?”

Fetching a glass of water, Sirius decided to explain as they went to bed. It was getting on for two o’ clock in the morning and he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. But then again, he thought, could he really sleep tonight, knowing that Draco was in so much danger?

“He’s in the best place, Siri,” Remus said when he’d finished explaining. “Even better than St Mungo’s. You know Severus is his best hope, don’t you?”

“Oh, Moony,” Sirius sighed heavily, “you have no idea! I can’t believe I’m admitting this, but I’ve never seen Snape like he was tonight. He really cares – you could see it in his face. And when he hit Zabini…”

“You know,” Remus interjected, “I don’t think Severus has been the malicious fiend that you’ve painted him all these years. Yes, he was trouble in school and yes, he was a Death Eater, but I think he’s faced some extremely hard situations and has had to make hard choices; that sort of thing will have an effect on one’s personality and outlook on the world.”

“I think you’ve been talking to Jenna again,” Sirius remarked with a fond smile as he peeled off his shirt and wriggled out of his jeans.

“Perhaps.” Remus conceded with a little shrug. “But I think I’m right; Severus does care about certain people but over the years, he’s had his fingers burned too many times to be free with his emotions.”

“Hmm,” Sirius responded thoughtfully. He pulled back the covers and slipped into bed as his lover moved in on the other side. “He certainly seems to love Draco.”

“Well then,” Remus said softly and leaned back against the banked pillows, “Severus will do everything he can to save him.” He reached out then and drew Sirius down against him so that his lover’s head was resting on Remus’ stomach. “And in the morning, we’ll go up and check on all of them.”

“It’s already morning,” Sirius murmured, already drifting towards sleep.

“Later then,” Remus smiled and stroked his lover’s black hair.

*~*~*

“Well,” Lucius smiled with a weary sigh as he closed the front door, “I thought that went rather well, don’t you? Remind me to be nicer to Erind tomorrow; his crème brûlé was delicious.” He turned then, realising that his lover wasn’t responding.

Daniel stood at the foot of the stairs, looking pale but resolute with a bag beside him.

“Daniel? What’s going on, baby boy?”

“’Baby boy’,” Daniel repeated with a sneer, “Is that how you see me, Lucius? A child? Do you think I’m so innocent and naïve that I wouldn’t notice the people you opened your doors to, this evening? I’m not blind and I’m not stupid,”

Lucius shook his head, looking confused. “Daniel, I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about -”

“No?” Daniel interrupted, “You had no idea that your guests, this evening, are known Death Eaters? For Merlin’s sake, Lucius, Rabastan Lestrange? Alistair Nigellus? Why didn’t you invite your boss, as well? Or doesn’t he like crème brûlé? Does he prefer something darker perhaps? A bloody steak? A child’s heart, maybe?”

“Daniel, don’t be absurd,” Lucius said quietly. He stood, looking absolutely calm but a casual observer would have noticed that he was holding himself a little too rigidly.

“Are you trying to tell me I’m wrong?” Daniel asked, sounding as if he wished this was true. “Am I mistaken? I mean, I can’t understand why you would suddenly want to come clean about all this.”

“Daniel,” Lucius began but Daniel found he suddenly didn’t want to hear whatever Lucius had to say. Anything he said now would only be more lies or terrible, horrible truths that he wasn’t sure he could deal with.

So he picked up his bag and started towards the doors; hoping and praying that he hadn’t been completely wrong about Lucius. Surely he hadn’t lied when he said he’d loved him? He wouldn’t hurt him... curse him...
Curling his fingers in towards his wrist, he was reassured to feel the end of his wand, tucked securely up his sleeve.

“Baby boy... Daniel... wait,” Lucius put out a hand to stop him. With a sigh, Daniel halted and stood, staring past Lucius at the door as he waited for his lover to make it all alright. “These associates of mine,” Lucius continued, “might have been followers of the Dark Lord in the past but now they’re -”

His explanation died, however, as Daniel looked up at him with cold anger in his brown eyes.

“Did you kill Thomas?” he asked in a deathly whisper.

“No.” The response was firm and brooked no argument yet Daniel kept thinking of what Ali had told him.

“Do you know the men who did kill him? And don’t lie to me, Lucius, or so help me I’ll -”

“You’ll what?” And suddenly the man before him had donned his cool façade of sneering disdain. Perhaps realising that the game was up, that he could no longer keep up the pretence, Lucius had switched off his more tender emotions and was coldly regarding Daniel as if he’d never loved him.

This, Daniel found, hurt more than anything else. How bizarre, he thought distantly, that the cessation of love and affection should hurt more than the knowledge that this man had attempted to murder members of his own family!

“Forget it,” he shook his head. With his eyes firmly on the front door, he resumed his pace and found that he didn’t particularly care if Lucius chose to curse him on the spot.

And so it was almost a disappointment when he found himself outside, whole and unscathed; apparently Lucius didn’t even care enough to attempt to kill him.