The Spring of the Satyr

The sound of crashing thunder echoed through Malfoy Manor like an explosion. A bolt of lightning hit the ground so close to the house that several of the upper windows shattered, adding to the devastation within. Lucius lay on his back on the floor and watched the slivers fall like a million tiny diamonds, refusing to move even though the shards bit through the exposed skin of his face and bare arms and feet. He moved over a few inches and let the sheeting rain pouring through the empty window pane fall onto his face and body, washing away the blood streaks and drenching him in the freezing water. He welcomed the sensation, countless tiny pinpricks of ice the only thing making him feel alive. “Why should you feel alive when she is dead?” He thought punishingly.

When the wispy, graceful eagle soared into the room from the depths of the fireplace, Lucius thought he had truly lost his mind. It took several moments of strained thought to realize that the bird was actually there. It was a patronus, but whose? And why was it buzzing around his head? He got unsteadily to his feet, shivering so hard he could barely keep himself upright. He kept his eyes on the bird, which flew back into the fireplace and landed on the bottom. Lucius followed, ducking his head a little to make it through the opening. He stood at the very back, by the soot-blackened wall and waited for the bird’s instruction. It just sat there, unmoving, waiting. Lucius growled in frustration. He looked up into the blackness of the closed chimney, no, he thought that if the bird would have been trying to lead him up there it would be flying. He glanced down at what seemed to be a solid stone floor. He pointed his wand downward. “Descendo!”

As the circle of stone he stood upon gave a jerk and began to fall, Lucius nearly slipped in the puddle his wet hair and clothing had created. He knelt and steadied himself, staring in wonder at the cavernous walls leading hundreds of feet into the earth below. He’d grown up in this house and thought he knew all of it’s secrets. He’d never suspected anything like this! As the disk slowed, presumably near the bottom, he watched the eagle patronus bunch it’s feathers and prepare to take flight. As he came to a halt he followed the bird down a dark and unknown corridor, towards a torch-lit, life-size painting of a blonde woman he recognized as a younger version of his wife. He watched the patronus sink through the painting, into a room within? Lucius held out a tentative hand to the painting. Solid. He stood silently, thinking, wondering what it meant.

The sound of a familiar voice erupted from behind the painting. “Father! Are you there?” He recognized Draco’s voice, tinged with a hurried panic.

Lucius hesitated, torn between needing to see what was on the other side of the painting and knowing that his son was fully capable of setting a trap for him. He decided he didn’t care. “Yes Draco, I’m here.”

“Mother’s gone insane.” Draco called urgently. “She’s going to kill Hermione if we can’t get her out of here.”

Lucius sucked in his breath, unsure if he’d heard the boy correctly. Was it true? Was she still alive? His heart pounded painfully, beating out of his chest. Oh,,,it would be too cruel for this to be a lie! He heard Draco, voice muffled, speaking to someone else in the room. Narcissa? Or Hermione?

Draco shook Hermione by the shoulders. “Please! Say something to him! Let him know you’re here!” Her eyes remained blank. Frustrated beyond measure, Draco ran back to the place in the wall where he knew the opening to be. “Speak to her father! She doesn’t hear me!”

Lucius paused in fear and confusion. Why couldn’t she hear Draco? Why, if she were truly in there, didn’t she speak? “Hermione!” He called loudly. “Please answer me! Let me know you are alive!”

Through the haze, Hermione heard the beloved voice outside the wall, yet refused to be swayed. She’d already been duped once. She’d be damned if she’d give the woman the satisfaction of fooling her twice. She opened her eyes and found Draco’s. He looked at her earnestly.

“It’s him Hermione. I swear. I sent my patronus to help him find you.”

“Why?” She asked quietly, so the person on the other side of the wall would not hear. “ Why help me now? You planned this with her.”

“And I’ve apologized for it.” He answered, temper rising. His mother could be back at any second and she was still interested in recriminations? “Now, make my father believe you are in here!”

Hermione stared at the spot in the wall where she imagined him to be standing. “Lucius?” She called hesitantly. She heard a loud, choking gasp from the other side of the wall. “Where did we meet?”

Lucius’ face clenched in exaltation. Tears filled his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. She was alive! “Bath my darling. I met you in Bath two years, seven months and three days ago. It was completely unexpected and the best thing that ever happened to me.”

As the realization that it was truly the man she loved on the other side of the wall, Hermione began to cry. “Lucius, help me!”

Lucius tore at the painting, trying unsuccessfully to pull it from the wall. It wouldn’t budge. “How do I get in Draco?” He called.

“Mother sealed it. I can’t get out, and I don’t know how to get in.” Draco said, putting his body between Hermione and the wall. “Try a reducto! It didn’t work from in here, but maybe from the outside,,”

Pointing his wand at the now snarling face of the woman in the painting, Lucius shouted the destruction curse he’d already used so many times that day. Small, pebble sized bits of the stone wall blasted helter-skelter on the floor, yet the wall remained solid. “She’s put an impenetrable on it!” He shouted, watching in horror as the Narcissa of the painting wagged her finger as if scolding a naughty boy and then ducked out of sight. His wife was fond of her own image, and there were numerous portraits of her in other rooms in the house. She was going to inform her flesh and blood likeness of the happenings down here!

Sure enough, a few seconds later Lucius heard the stone disc descending. “Be quiet!” He called into the room. “She’s coming!” He pointed his wand at himself, performing the disillusionment charm. He watched his wife, cheeks scarlet with rage and eyes round and shining with a fanatical gleam, striding down the corridor. He thought she’d never looked more like her sister. As she passed him within inches, he thought he could almost smell the madness, mingled with her stale perfume. She glanced around suspiciously, looking for him, before aiming her wand at the empty portrait.

“Evanesco!”

As Narcissa’s foot crossed the magical boundary, Lucius threw his body through the opening, knocking her down and landing on top of her. He grunted in pain as her taloned nails raked his face and neck. Fighting with all his strength, he pinned the madwoman to the floor. “Get her wand Draco!” He shouted.

Eyes wide with shock, Draco jumped from the bed and tried to grab the wand from his mother’s clenching hand, but in her hysteria, she seemed to be stronger than both of them. Arching her back violently, she bucked Lucius off and sprang to her feet. Instantly, her wand pointed at the sobbing girl on the bed. “Avada Ke,,,”

“Confringo!” Lucius roared.

“Stupefy!” Draco screamed.

Streaks of blue and red light mingled in the air before hitting Narcissa’s outstretched wand arm, which burst violently into flames. For an instant, she gazed stupidly as her wand fell into ashes on the floor and then screamed as she felt her flesh sizzle, instantly incinerated to the bone. Hastily, she beat the flames out with her other hand and ran out the exit, now a gaping hole in the wall.

Lucius glanced at Hermione, nearly unrecognizable on the bed. “Stay with her Draco!” He commanded, running after his wife.

“Nooo!” Hermione screamed after him. “Don’t leave me!”

Lucius halted his steps and ran back into the room. He stood at the entry, eyes filling with inconvenient, stinging tears as he looked at her. “I love you my darling.” He said, ignoring the injuries and the bruises, only seeing Hermione, the woman he still adored beyond reason. He met her shining, frightened eyes and forced a smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back for you!”

As he disappeared into the blackness, Hermione broke down into terrified sobs and felt strong arms surround her aching body. She tensed for a moment before dissolving in tears against Draco’s thundering chest.

**

Following a trail of ash and the scent of roasted flesh, Lucius raced into the hall and up the large, marble staircase. A bolt of lightning flashed through the room, exposing the devastation in a blinding arc that turned night to day. Thunder crashed overhead, rattling the chandeliers and shaking the house to it’s foundation. Sheets of pounding rain beat mercilessly against the walls and windows, deafening in it’s volume. Higher and higher he climbed, past the second floor, past the third, to the top. Standing in the complete and utter blackness of the unused fourth floor corridor, Lucius raised his wand in front of him. “Lumos!”

No longer able to see a trail, or smell anything in the ozone enriched air, Lucius looked around in dread. Suddenly, he noticed a door at the far end of the corridor, slightly ajar. He raced to it, unable to remember exactly where it led. He held his wand inside, illuminating a small rickety looking circular staircase. Ah! He thought, remembering. This led to the north tower. He hadn’t been up there since he was a small boy and had almost fallen over the ledge. He climbed the stairs now, straining to hear any sound other than the pounding rain. At the top of the staircase he stopped at the old wooden door, standing open to the elements. Cautiously, he stepped out on the turret, wand aloft, bare feet sliding on the wet stones. Turning in a quick, wide circle, he surveyed the small, round enclosure, wiping the freezing rain from his eyes with the back of a sodden sleeve. He was alone! Where was Narcissa? She hadn’t come back down, he was sure of it!

Heart pounding, he walked to the edge of the wall, bracing himself against the ledge. The ground below was too far for his wand to illuminate. He paused and waited for the next bolt of lightning. It wasn’t long in coming, the storm so near that the brilliant light lasted long enough for him to survey the ground thoroughly. He’d half expected, half hoped to see her broken body on the ground so far below, but was disappointed. He scanned the sky, just in time to see a broom and rider flying at his head. He ducked, feeling her feet graze his scalp as he lay facedown on the stones.

Demented, Narcissa whirled the broom back around, not wanting to give him time to recover. As she passed over his prone body, she dropped off the broom, letting it fly on, rider-less, to the ground so far below. She was on him immediately, teeth and nails shredding flesh, shouting useless curses and swears. Her uninjured hand grabbed the wand from his chilled fingers, sending it hurtling into the storm.

Lucius rolled over and grabbed her around the shoulders, then rolled again, pinning her beneath him. He swore as her teeth sunk deeply into his arm. Involuntarily, he lost his grip and was thrown back, cracking the back of his head painfully, nearly blacking out. Narcissa lit into him, a bright flash illuminating her haggard features monstrously. Lucius struggled to his feet, trying desperately to hold her away from him, nearly falling to his knees as the wild, thrashing woman suddenly stopped moving and stepped back.

Thunder clapped violently, so near it deafened them both. As the light flashed, Lucius thought in growing madness, that he saw her smile at him. The night went dark, a complete absence of light that felt otherworldly, disorienting. He felt something hit his stomach and let out his breath in a whoosh. She’d backed up and run at him, her head ramming into him as her arm wrapped around his middle. The momentum carried them to the edge of the turret. For an instant, Lucius felt the wall of the ledge against his calves, then nothing but air. The wind buffeted them as the ground rushed up in welcome. He felt Narcissa’s nails clutching the sodden fabric of his shirt in terror. He clutched his poor, damaged, deranged wife to his chest, closed his eyes and thought of Hermione. “I’m sorry.” He thought sadly, then knew no more.