A Chance for Light

Malfoy Manor

Large shadows cast by candlelight danced on the walls, and the room was silent save for the occasional soft moan and the rustle of silk sheets. The portraits of Malfoys dead and gone observed in stony silence the pale, tautly muscled back of Lucius Malfoy. His regal white hair was tied back loosely with a golden cord, his harsh gray eyes uncannily soft as he made love slowly to his gorgeous wife Narcissa. Her slender arms wrapped around his neck and she tilted her head back; eyes closed, she bit her lip and felt a moment’s flash of shame at the sheen of sweat she knew was beading on her milky skin. Malfoys did not sweat. But looking at her husband and seeing the face of the man she loved rather than the cold facade of his everyday business persona, she absolutely did not care. Nights like this were absolute bliss.

Lucius hissed suddenly and faltered in his steady thrusts, glancing down at his forearm briefly. Narcissa followed his gaze and stiffened immediately, looking back up to see her loving husband replaced once more with Lucius Malfoy, devoted servant of Lord Voldemort. He spared a moment to kiss her briefly, already lacking the passion of moments before, before sliding out of bed to dress.

Narcissa followed suit but had barely thrown her silver robe on before Lucius had stalked out of the room without a word or a backwards glance. She sighed, frowned, and paused for a moment to check a mirror before following him out to see what the fuss was about this time. It was unfortunate, she thought, that midnight visits from fellow Death Eaters were now a common occurrence and that she was bound by formality to at least receive the visitor alongside her husband. Then she could leave them to their business.

She was not at all expecting what she saw upon entering the sitting room. Lord Voldemort was there, having already taken a seat in the largest armchair. Lucius was standing before him, staring coolly at two hooded Death Eaters who stood before the crumpled and pathetic looking form of none other than Sirius Black. Narcissa had to restrain a gasp upon seeing her estranged cousin, and looked hesitantly at Voldemort as she curtsied deeply in greeting.

“Welcome, my Lord, to Malfoy Manor,” she said smoothly, managing not to show her concern. “We are happy that you grace our home once more with your presence.”

“A pleasure, Narcissa,” Voldemort rumbled absently. “As I was saying to Lucius, I have a favour to ask of you. You are to keep this man in your dungeon, which I know is always kept ready for new guests.” He paused to leer unpleasantly at Sirius’ unmoving form. “He is somewhat of a delicate case, as you must know. Sirius is from a prominent pureblood family, and I hate having something so valuable go to waste. Keep him there until I have figured out what to do to him.”

“Of course, my Lord,” Narcissa all but whispered, curtseying again. She looked to Lucius.

“You are dismissed,” he said shortly, and without another word Narcissa turned and left the men alone in the room. Sirius had begun to stir and even let out a feeble moan, prompting Voldemort to send his two Death Eaters with the prisoner down to the Malfoy dungeons.

There was a reason the Dark Lord had chosen this place in particular to hold such a “delicate case”, thought Lucius smugly as he was left alone with Voldemort. Malfoy Manor had a chilling history of torture and death below ground, one of which the family’s current head was very proud. Voldemort had come to him many times in the last year or so to hold important or dangerous prisoners, whether they were slated for interrogation or execution.

It absolutely did not matter that this latest guest was a Black; Lucius knew all about his wife’s cousin and his family history. Sirius Black had given up any privileges connected with his birth status, as far as he and many others were concerned. Lucius was interested in how Narcissa would react to having a family member, as estranged as he was, in her basement.

Black was deposited unceremoniously in an empty cell – the dungeon was deserted anyway. As soon as Lucius himself had locked and charmed the cell, Voldemort was satisfied, and announced that he would return in a few days. With that, he and the Death Eaters were gone, leaving a thoughtful Lucius. Instead of returning to bed and his no doubt unhappy wife, he sank himself into the chair that Voldemort had occupied not an hour before, tapping his lips with a long, bony finger and staring silently into the fireplace.

--------

“Malfoy Manor!” Remus barked. “You must be mad. Have you even considered –”

“I have considered all that needs considering, Lupin,” drawled Snape, righting a fallen vase and frowning when he saw a large crack through one side. He sighed and led the way out of Grimmauld Place, into a bright orange sunset, and turned to look Remus up and down. “We’ll have to do something about your robes. No pureblood would be caught dead wearing those.”

Remus stiffened and began a retort, before realizing the idiocy of it and settling for rolling his eyes – something he’d become practiced at, being best friends with Padfoot and Prongs. Remembering the reason they were here, he sobered and decided to listen to Snape’s idea because after all, he had a very good idea what they were dealing with.

It was the end of the second day since Sirius had been discovered missing. “What exactly will we do at Malfoy Manor?” Remus asked finally, crossing his arms dubiously.

“Simplicity is best,” Severus answered simply. “I will go for a casual visit with Lucius and see exactly what we are dealing with and where Sirius is being held. Then you will become my prisoner and I will bring you there, where you will help Sirius escape. The details will have to be worked out once we know more. And of course this will only work if Voldemort is nowhere near at the time of the escape attempt, or you won’t stand a chance.”

“I love the confidence,” Remus muttered sarcastically. “And in what world would the likes of you ever capture me?”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “What a Black-like remark. I’ll have you know that I have taken down my share of enemies in the past.”

“And who exactly are these enemies you’re talking about?” Remus demanded hotly. “Aurors or Death Eaters? Or perhaps you prefer innocents, or Muggles!” Truth be told, he was extremely worried about Snape’s plan. Particularly the part that involved him being taken prisoner by Death Eaters; he wasn’t entirely convinced that Snape could be trusted as implicitly as Dumbledore insisted.

“I will contact you as soon as I know more,” was all Snape would say, before he disappeared with a sharp crack. Remus was left staring back at the fuzzy space between Numbers 3 and 5 Grimmauld Place, wondering when he would see his friend again. He resolved to return to speak once more with Dumbledore about this “plan”, and then to pay a visit to the Potters. Perhaps they’d already heard, and he wouldn’t have to be the bearer of bad news – either way, he wanted to see baby Harry again.

--

Clink-clink.

Clink-clink.

Clink-clink.

“Aaahahahahhhrriieiagaghhhh!!!” Sirius let out a monstrous war cry as he plunged his arm through the bars of the cell, trying to dislodge the abandoned metal plate. The noise coming from the steady drip of water hitting it was what had awoken him, and for hours it had been the only sound in the otherwise silent dungeon. All he succeeded in doing, however, was bruising his already pained shoulder. With a grimace, he leaned back and surveyed the situation.

“Damn your bloody sodding useless dungeons all to hell!” he shouted, not caring whether he was heard or not. When all he heard was an echo, he let out a frustrated grunt and continued watching the water drip steadily.

Clink-clink.

Clink-clink.

The dungeon wasn’t that bad though, he had to admit. The cell itself was sparse, with a bed and slightly sodden cot in the back corner. But at least it wasn’t dirty, or teeming with rats, or stunk up with decaying bodies. There was even a shaft of light coming through a window high up on the opposite end, and looking at it, Sirius smirked. He decided either his host was the biggest ponce of a Death Eater he’d ever seen, or someone too stuck-up to allow their dungeon a descent into the dungheaps most had become. Was that a faded painting he saw beside the bottom of the stairs?

“Well Sirius, you’ve really gone and done it this time,” he said philosophically. “Secret-Keeper, huh? Bloody stupid idea, that. Should have let Wormtail do it, he wanted badly enough anyway.”

“Speaking to oneself isn’t highly indicative of a healthy disposition,” came the silky voice of Lucius Malfoy. He seemed to have materialized from the shadows, slinking, completely enshrouded in black robes with a small Malfoy crest emblazoned on the chest. His face was taut as a neat little smile spread over his lips and he strode towards Sirius, who had stiffened upon hearing the voice.

“Just keeping myself company, Malfoy,” he countered. “Kind of lonely down here. You think you could do something about that? Me being imprisoned and all, I mean.”

“Unfortunately, no. And I won’t be visiting for long either.” Lucius stopped several feet from the bars and frowned, as if coming upon a foul odour. “I simply wanted to extend a welcome to Malfoy Manor and formally introduce myself as your host. You are, of course, the Dark Lord’s property now; however, coming from a family such as yours I am bound by honour to welcome you.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Much appreciated, I’m sure. I’ll have you know I’m no nothing of Voldemort though, and as long as you’re my host, I would like some food and water and, if you can manage, some nicer lodgings.”

Lucius merely rolled his eyes and sighed. “I told Narcissa that you were not even worthy of that cell. And of course you prove me right within the first minutes. You really are repulsive. A traitor to your family.” Sirius struggled mightily against the Body-Binding curse that Lucius sent his way, though he knew it was futile for him to do much of anything in his wandless state. All he could do was glare coldly and grunt inwardly in pain as he was Accio’d over the stony ground towards the – he had to admit – intimidatingly regal form of Lucius.

“You have already lost one of the privileges kindly granted to you,” informed Lucius as he conjured an elaborate system of ropes to keep Sirius in a very uncomfortable kneeling position in the middle of the empty dungeon, his arms crossed tightly behind his back. A single length of rope ran tightly from Sirius’ wrists to the ceiling above, pulling his arms out as far behind him as his shoulders would allow. Lucius had ensured he was stuck leaning slightly forward and had no leverage whatsoever to move and ease his discomfort, much less attempt to escape.

The Body-Binding curse was lifted, leaving Sirius free to struggle once more. He gave that up quickly in fear his shoulders would be popped out of his sockets and frowned as he began to realize the hopelessness of his situation.

“I would advise you to keep your mouth shut,” snapped Lucius as he saw Sirius about to complain. “Someone will be down to check on you shortly, and until then, I will leave you with a little gift – the last you will receive if you continue to be unpleasant.” Then, to the shock of a worried Sirius, he felt a tiny pillow come into existence beneath his already burning knees, greatly easing the pain that had been rapidly building.

“What do you say?” Lucius asked with an almost comical tilt of his head.

Sirius was about to snap something nasty, but common sense overcame him and he refrained himself to merely rolling his eyes. “Thanks, Malfoy,” he murmured unhappily.

A dazzling smile burst forth from Lucius’ handsome features. “You are most welcome.” With a little snicker, he turned and left the dungeon as quickly as he had appeared, leaving Sirius grinding his teeth and wiggling his arms stubbornly.

Clink-clink.

Clink-clink.

Clink-clink.