He seems more at home once we arrive, a little of the danger has gone from his eyes now that he has his own four walls around him. Four walls is obviously a figure of speech. Malfoy Manor has a great many more walls than that, and all of them exquisitely decorated. We are in the drawing room, the rich purple walls rising about us and punctuated at intervals by our achingly dull ancestors. I leave his side and walk towards the marble fireplace, atop which is the hugely extravagant mirror that some Malfoy or other stole from a European aristocrat in the Middle Ages. My face looks startled by events, as well it might, and I run my fingers through my unruly hair to try and restore some semblance of order.
–You have looked better, Sister,†he says, moving past the huge table that now dominates the room. –You will perhaps want to refresh yourself. Your room is ready, as always.â€
–This is new,†I say, indicating the table. –And why is all the furniture thrown against the walls like that? It looks like a makeshift board room.â€
–It is, of sorts.†A flicker of something flashes across his face, discomfort, perhaps, or something more akin to fear. Lucius, frightened, I shudder to myself at the notion. –I am expecting some important meetings to take place in the coming months. I needed a large table.â€
–Well, you’ve certainly got one.†I glance towards the window, from where some of the gardens can be glimpsed. They stretch, immaculate in design and upkeep, to the sides of the house and backwards. –Why did we have to leave like that?â€
–I require you to send an owl to your employer and tell them that you cannot make it into work today.†He is right by my side now, so close I can hear the gentle flutter of his breath as passes my ear. –Tell them that you are unwell, but that you are at your brother’s house and that he is taking care of you. You must make that bit very clear, that I am taking care of you and have been since yesterday.â€
–You would have me lie for you, brother?â€
–It would not be the first time.â€
I pull away from his immediate vicinity, finding a new position below the portrait of Aunt Perpetua. She is a miserable looking old bag, with a nose as long as an oar and teeth to match. A by-blow of a bad marriage, so the story goes, and it makes me wonder if Lucius and I will be considered the same way by descendants many years from now. There is dust on the frame; not much, but enough to show that either Narcissa is not here or is neglecting her duties as mistress of the house.
–Is my nephew at school?†I ask, turning from the portrait to the living Malfoy before me.
–Naturally, as it is term time. His mother is visiting her family in London. We are quite alone.â€
–Except for the servants.â€
–They have been sent away.†He turns from me, quick enough to hide any expression that has formed on his features. –Please do as I ask, Eleanor, just this once.â€
–What is it, Lucius? What have you done?†The house feels uneasy, I realise that now, tuning in my thoughts to the sounds, or lack of them, that would mean things are as they should be. There was no distant hum of servants, no clatter as the gardener passed by the windows with his tools, no odour of beeswax filling the nostrils.
–It is what I cannot have done that brings you here. What I must not be connected to, but what I had to ensure happened.†He catches up with me again and it feels like we are playing some bizarre game of cat and mouse around the drawing room. His hand is stroking my hair before I even realise he has moved. –Eleanor: my own blood, my only blood in the world.â€
–You have Draco,†I respond pointedly.
–Sometimes he is not enough.†He lets his hand drop. –Just swear that I was not there today, to anyone who asks.â€
–What happened?†The echo of the car alarms is in my ears, the rumbling roll of noise that was coming towards us. –What did we leave behind?â€
–Something that was necessary. Death is everywhere, Sister, and today you escaped it, so the very least you can do is stop them from knowing that I was there.†His eyes lock with mine and I can almost feel the understanding flow between us. He has murdered today. I know this as surely as I know my own name. He has murdered Muggles, but he could not stand to leave me there. It would be ungracious to allow a pure blood to die like that, amongst Muggles, classed as a Muggle, perhaps buried as a Muggle.
–Who will ask, Lucius? Who will want to know? You do realise, don’t you, that they have CCTV at these places now.â€
–CCTV?†He shakes his head at the acronym and then a light is flicked on in his head. –You mean the recording devices that the Muggles use. They were made useless before the attack.â€
–If this is Voldemort’s order then why do you need an alibi?†I do not want him to confirm what I already know. I want him to deny it. I want him to go back to being a vicious little man with a pure blood dream, and not be following a path that will surely lead to his destruction. I do not want him to be as evil as I believe him to be. –Lucius?â€
–The Ministry will suspect, and they must do something to appease their opposites in the world of Muggles. My influence only stretches so far and Voldemort cannot protect all of his followers.†He winces at the name. Poor Lucius, I think, so desirous of magnitude and so disappointed that Voldemort reached it before him.
–What of the people you killed?†I ask, wondering when the Order would try to contact me.
–What of them?†He looks nonplussed.
–They are dead, Lucius, simply because you dislike them.â€
–Don’t be naïve, Eleanor. They did not die simply because I disliked them. I have no interest in them as long as they keep to their own world and do not try to infiltrate mine. It is when they attempt to sully the bloodlines of the pure, when they attempt magic, when they infringe on my life that I take exception. No, they died because a point had to be made. Their Minister needs his attention drawing to what his people are doing to ours. Look at the weakening of the great families, to the point where there are almost no great families left.†He levels a look at me, one that tells me he knows about my Muggle boyfriends, one that does not shield his disgust with my behaviour. A look that tells me the only reason none of them died was because none of them proposed marriage. I can read a lot in my brother’s eyes, and most of it is ill. –Perhaps, after all, I was fated to find you today, to rescue from the Muggles.†The laugh that follows this is dry, hoarse with mockery.
–I think I will go to my room,†I say, wanting to remove myself from his presence. My wand is in my pocket. One simple curse and all will be done. This stain on the world would be removed. This evil thought of a man would be gone in an instant and I was never here. I was killed on the Underground by persons unknown. I could slip the bonds of my life and go somewhere else, be someone else. No concerns but those of a woman living happily in a cottage somewhere, with roses climbing the door frames and perhaps a Muggle to marry and have children with. All I had to do was take out my wand when his back was turned and my debt to mankind would be paid in full, in one fell swoop.
But he was my brother, my twin soul on this earth, He had absorbed all the evil there had been in our mother’s womb and I had been blessed with the good. What could I do? What would you have done? He was my own blood, my only blood in the world.
–I will bring you tea, on a tray, with flowers.†He laughs and I know that he has won for now. He is secure in having me there, understands as well as I do our bond and its unbreakable nature, in this life or the next.
–Do not bother,†I retort. –I would likely choke on it.â€
–Now, now, no need for that. We are one, you and I; let us see how far that takes us.†With a hand on my shoulder he steers me from the room. –We need each other more than you care to admit. I keep your secrets and you will keep mine.â€
He smells of rosemary and lemon, fresh and clean as if no taint can touch him. His hair brushes my face and I can smell lavender, feathers of calm in an ocean of disquiet. It is like a pomander of scents blended to cover the real aroma of the man, to mask the heart of darkness that lurks beneath. I feel no threat, but I do feel trapped by obligation.
–You will come down later, perhaps, for a light luncheon. I thought we could go for a ride this afternoon through the parkland.†He brightens suddenly at his new-formed plans for the day, at the notion that he could play the part he liked best, that of the gentleman, with all the power and land his to command.
–On brooms?†I struggle with his conversational style, wondering how he can just forget the destruction he has caused today.
–Horses, my dear sister. When did we ever ride brooms for pleasure?â€
–A long time ago, we did ride brooms for pleasure, Lucius. When things where different.â€
–As children?†He pauses to recollect, and does so with a false veil over the memories. –We rode across the fields together. I have not forgotten.â€
–Perhaps you have forgotten that most of the time you were chasing me, chastising me.â€
He grows cold for a moment, not wishing to have his version of events challenged. –I think you exaggerate, Sister.†And with that he turns and is gone. To do what, I cannot guess. Perhaps the owls will start to fly and a sudden, sickening thought grips my bowels.
What if Voldemort decides to pay his faithful servant a visit? What can I possibly say to this creature, this monster? And I know I must send communications of my own, no matter what the risk. I need the Order now. I need them more than I have ever needed them before.