Omnia Mors Perimit

He numbly goggled at the - plate they'd call it, but in fact it was a mere tin disk slightly moulded. They'd also arrogate to call the stinking contents of that mould 'food' - and he would agree, because swill was food technically, if only for pigs. He tried to discern what this junk might have been in life - animal? Plant? Mineral??? It was impossible to say for sure. Now it was grey, pappy, and had large chunks of uncertain origin and ominous colour in it. Half-heartedly, he fished one of these chunks out and gingerly bit onto it... All right, five to ten years ago, this must have been some sort of fish. He wouldn't want to imagine what had happened to it in the meantime.

Naturally, after eyeing the 'food' suspiciously for two hours - or four - he eventually ate it. Most of the time, anyway. He wouldn't make it so easy for these bastards and starve himself to death! The meals were just another way of humiliating the prison inmates, one of the many. Not only that it was practically inedible. It came without cutlery as well, so one had to eat it with grimy fingers. Because that was step two - keeping the prisoners as far away from personal hygiene as possible. Once a week, Lucius was permitted to take a shower - with thoroughly unheated water right out of the sea surrounding the island. He was not allowed to leave his cell for this, of course. The water would simply sprinkle out of the ceiling and in the first two weeks, he hadn't comprehended the routine yet, so his bedding got soaking wet alongside his clothes. Bedding? Ha! A straw-filled sack as a cushion and a blanket that had served on a horseback in a past life didn't qualify as bedding. As for his clothes - he was still wearing the robes he had worn on the day of his conviction. He couldn't make up his mind if that was an act of clemency or not. On the one hand - these were top robes, comfortable, made of finest garments, tailor-made to fit him like a glove. On the other hand - since he had to wash them with nothing but sea-water and soft soap on the days of his weekly shower, they had long passed the state of agreeable.

There was one thing to say in favour of the food. Exactly one thing. It came in an exact twenty-four hour routine, dividing the endless time into 'days'. Without the food, he couldn't have figured any time span at all. His cell had no window - not that a window would have been of much use, because no sun would ever shine upon Azkaban island. He had no book, no nothing to distract him - all he did all day and night was either lying down on that wooden plank that would serve as a pallet, or simply stare at one of his walls and let his mind meander.

How could this have happened! He knew what had happened, not a doubt about it, but how on earth it had come about... He tried to figure out what he could have done to prevent it. Nothing! Absolutely bloody nothing! It wasn't as if he had done anything wrong, or rather, as if he had been confronted with some sort of choice where he could have decided to go either this way or that. The only actual choice that he had made deliberately was one twenty-five years ago, and everything that had happened in this respect afterwards had no longer been up to him.

As a lad of eighteen years, he had kneeled down in front of an impressing warlock, bedazzled by this one's abilities, and given an oath. This had been his one crucial mistake, but honestly, who could have figured?! He had been eighteen then! Just so officially permitted to apparate! Not four months out of school! As a trained Law Wizard, he would have rescinded the validity of any such contract and got away with it easily, if only the other contracting party hadn't been the Dark Lord of all people! It wasn't fair to be held responsible to words one had spoken decades ago, was it?! Words not that sincerely meant in the first place.

Serve me under all circumstances and if it cost your life - yeah, well, he had agreed, and at the given moment, he had even meant it, but what mattered here was that he hadn't had a clue about the consequences then! It had all been a great game. Train up as a Dark Wizard, put on a hood and a mask and engage Aurors in duels, frighten the hell out of all these good, common people... He had enjoyed himself greatly, he would not deny it, at least in the first time. It had soon got rather tiresome, but the pay-off had been worth it. He had become the right hand man of the most powerful wizard of their time, his powers had become greater than Lucius had ever dared to hope. Ironically, confronted with the same choice, he would have gone down another way if he had been asked only half a year later.

When teaming up with the other Death Eaters, he had reached rock bottom. Trapped in college, preparing for a life that he had already detested before it had properly started. Void of any hope that his only real wish could ever be fulfilled. And also, he would have done pretty much anything to annoy the hell out of his father. Merlin, he had been easy prey for the Dark Lord, had he not! Pleased as punch, Lucius had been, about such a marvellous opportunity! To wage war on everything he had hated - and there were many things that eighteen year old kids would loathe! The Ministry, the mudbloods, the whole goddamned society, Dumbledore, everyone else who had ever bugged him, and en passant achieving that sort of power that would prompt Abraxas even to furthermore refrain from hassling him to badly.

He hadn't faltered for a single second. He hadn't stopped for one moment to contemplate what it'd mean to submit his entire life to someone else - someone like the Dark Lord Voldemort. Half a year later, he had fallen on his knees and given a similar vow to Narcissa, promising her to be hers for all time if only she'd have him. That he hadn't regretted ever. That had been the only good promise he had ever made, but strangely enough, he had given it a whole lot of thought then. For two months, he had toyed with the idea if he could ask her to become his wife, whether it was sheer madness to commit himself so thoroughly. He hadn't wavered in his affection for her, no, but still he hadn't been entirely sure if an engagement was in order.

She had been in her Sixth Year, he had only started College. He had wondered if they both weren't too young still to make a decision that would reign the rest of their lives. He had wondered if he could in all seriousness swear and keep his word to never go astray again. He had wondered if they suited each other on the long term - Narcissa, calm, reclusive Narcissa, with her love for books and music and poetry, with all her admirable merits and talents, and him, Lucius, compulsive partygoer, devoted lady-killer, out-going, impulsive, quick-tempered, impatient and hungry for everything life could offer to him.

The more he had thought about it, the more certain he had got. There was no life without her, nothing deserving the name really. The months between her ferocious refusal and meeting her again on New Year's Eve had dripped away in a gloomy daze. He had felt dead inside, hollow, bleak, as if a Dementor had sucked his soul right out of him, an empty shell. She was the pearl fitted for that shell, to stay in the imagery. She was his pearl, his flower, his only true treasure despite that vast fortune slumbering in countless vaults. She was the air that he breathed. She was under his skin, in his heart, she was his pulse, her face lingered before his inner eye when he woke up and when he fell asleep, and she made an appearance in most of his dreams, too. Nothing had changed in this respect ever since he was a boy of thirteen, fourteen years, and even here and now, in this mouldy prison cell, she was what kept him going.

The pivotal point however was that he had thought about it. Although Narcissa Black - Narcissa Malfoy now - had been the one constant in his life, he had reflected about their relationship before he was absolutely sure that he meant it with every fibre of his heart when asking her to marry him. Why hadn't he shown only a fraction of so much consideration when joining the Dark Lord's ranks?!

Because in the same time when he had mused if they'd stay together for good, he had also realised that his oath of life-long service had been premature, at least. Insentient, more like. Completely moronic, if one was quite candid. But he hadn't yet been that candid, or clear-sighted, then. He had merely felt a bit queasy, for envisaging the next fifty, sixty years - for the first time really - he had comprehended at last that he had already bound himself. If he had had one chance then, before receiving the Dark Mark, to discuss his choice with Narcissa, his ever-so-sensible Narcissa, he wouldn't bear that branding on his forearm now. Narcissa would never have let him do that. But she hadn't been a part of his life anymore then. He had actually believed that he'd never see her again, or if he did, that she'd turn her back on him with a contemptible sneer.

Closing his eyes and ignoring the rotten smell, the damp cold, he spent the chief of his time in prison thinking of her, recollecting all these precious moments they had had together. Lucky for him that there were so many of these moments, he'd never tire. Narcissa as an eleven year old girl waiting for her sorting - holding herself like a queen before ascending the scaffolds, proud, brassbound. Narcissa stepping out of the lake on the Hogwarts grounds, her robes tightly clad around her, dripping wet, because of a dare of the Sepulture Septuplet then, with Gibbs challenging her to get a spear from one of the merepeople. Course she had won fair and square. Narcissa, stark naked kneeling above him with a determined smile, wielding her wedding ring.

He laughed under his breath. She hadn't accepted to compete with the Dark Lord and get a second place only. 'I'll give you a mark of my own,' she had murmured and bowed down to kiss his chest, 'one just as persistent.' And then she had used the sharp-edged diamond of her ring to carve a daffodil into his skin, right across his heart. He had squirmed and gasped with the pain - an accomplished drawer, she had taken her time until she was content with her work, then she had smiled and licked the blood away. He had thought she had finished, rattling on the scarf with which she had tied him to the bedposts and requesting his just reward, but she had shaken her head, smiling a blood-stained smile. 'Not yet, my lord, not yet.' She had conjured a white-hot baton and traced the cuts, slowly, not giving in to his fierce screams, and boy, the pain had been unspeakable. He had passed out after a short while, waking up again and finding himself still tied up, but treated in the most tender way with her applying murtlap essence to his wound. The pain had quickly ebbed away, and then she had rewarded him more than accordingly.

He touched the spot on his chest that still showed her sign, that would show on his ribcage for the rest of his living days. He was hers, oh yes. For more than six months, he was forced to do without her now, and this was the thing most tormenting about his imprisonment. He could deal with the food. He could deal with the cold. He could deal with all of this, if only he was allowed to see her! But the only person he saw occasionally - barring the guards - was the sodding Eel, as Narcissa would call him, their Law Wizard. The Eel, for that's what he was, the slimy fish, kept on putting Lucius off. Prisoners in general were only permitted visitors in very exceptional cases, and Death Eaters were excluded from any privilege at all. 'And at any rate, Luce, if you'd take one glance at your own reflection, you wouldn't want Narcissa to see you like this.'

He went crazy when thinking what she might be doing now. His petal, all on her own! Narcissa did not leave Malfoy Manor lest there was some emergency - how was she supposed to deal with all these things?! The Eel had informed him that the Manor had been searched two times since his arrest - poor, poor Narcissa - facing a riot squad! Forced to witness how they'd tear open the graves of his forefathers even! Forced to endure how they'd tear her beloved paintings asunder. She had to deal with Yaxley - she had to deal with all the tedious business connections, because with a decidedly pinched expression, the Eel had reported that she wouldn't have him look after the family's financial affairs. 'Lucius worked very hard for a very long time to gain Abraxas' trust and be in charge of business,' she had reportedly said, his dearest darling, 'I won't consign a stranger thoroughly unconnected to the family to replace my husband in any small way!'

There was one thing even a Death Eater was allowed to do - namely writing letters home. Letters?! Pardon the mistake - one letter per month, restricted to one foot of parchment. Also, they were allowed to receive exactly one letter, limited to the same restrictions. Now it would be absurd to assume that within these short - notes they were rather than proper letters - that within those, privacy of any kind was granted. Every letter was controlled, read and if necessary blackened out by some lowly Ministry wizard. Hence it was impossible to put anything in there that was of importance, or even tenderness. Lucius couldn't tell his wife what was necessary, and he knew that she was much too clever to write anything that could tip of either the Ministry, or his Death Eater pals. They had to content themselves with hollow phrases, even refraining from too explicit vows of love.

'Mon ange, I miss you every minute - every second - it's getting worse by the hour. This isn't the proper place to divulge just how much I miss you and how badly I long to be reunited with you - I trust your sagacity to conclude what is better not put in a letter. But how are you, my love? I am worried out of my wits for you. I am fine, thank you for asking, but you know me, I get along, just not so well without my blossom. At least, I have ample of time on my hands to relax - once we're back together, you'll find me recovered from all the stress of daily routine in the office. And I promise I'll never grumble again about overcooked vegetables, or because the champagne isn't sparkly enough. I may even join you as a Vegetarian, meat has become less and less palatable to me in recent times. Say hello to our son for me. I know he'll be a good boy and please his mother as much as ever. Also I'm delighted with his OWL results, please forward to him that I'll duly compensate his efforts and that I am exceedingly proud of him. I've got to come to an end, my precious, as much as I'd crave to go on and on how much you are in my heart if not in my arms at present, forever yours entirely, L.'

So, or something like that, were all his letters. Narcissa's letters were similar in nature, too, vague and bordering on soothing mirth, but he knew his wife too well not to sense some looming dread between her lines. Something was wrong, and it wasn't his present stay in jail, something else was troubling her. He seized his time to rack his brains what it was - there were numerous possibilities. Her sister bullying her? The Dark Lord threatening her? Forcing her to join his service? Something about Draco? But Draco was safe in Hogwarts - finally, he saw one merit in Dumbledore, and if it was only because the Dark Lord feared his old teacher. Besides - Draco literally worshipped his mother, he'd never do anything to seriously dismay her. What was it that gave his sweetheart such sorrows? She didn't care for the public opinion, no matter what the papers would write about him, or what the people would say, she wasn't going to lose her poise because of that...

Whenever he saw The Eel, Lucius overcame his caution and directly asked him. He had to be careful, of course, because Yaxley was a fellow Death Eater and every word Lucius said would inevitably find its way to the master's ear. Nevertheless, he kept on inquiring how Narcissa was, getting always the same smirking reply, 'Your wife is very much what she used to be, Luce, and that includes that she doesn't deign talking to me if she can avoid it.'

Who could blame her, eh? Lucius himself wouldn't be talking to this wretched prat if he had other options. But as it were, he was the freaking best Law Wizard that could be bought for money. The man had after all managed to negotiate sentences for them all that were downright ridiculous compared to the offence. Lucius had braced himself for a life-long sentence before his trial - what else but life-long? He was a Death Eater, had been the second in command of the Dark Order, he had killed two dozen people, give or take, in his time, even though he couldn't be convicted of these with certainty. He had imperiused more people than he could be bothered to count. He had partaken in quite a number of tortures. He had been caught inside the Ministry of Magic itself, right in the Forbidden Section, while he had commanded an operation to hunt down and eventually kill, respectively abduct in Potter's case, a bunch of teenagers. What other sentence but 'life-long' could have been adequate, eh? Went to show what a cunning genius The Eel was when it came down to defend die-hard felons. Well, everybody must have some talent or other.

"Malfoy!" A barking voice disturbed him from his silent reverie. "Face to the wall!"

Lucius sighed and made his habitual joke upon this prompt, "Which wall? I got three and a half!"

"We can do this the unpleasant, or the truly aggravating way!"

He got up, sniggering under his breath, and turned his back to the door. An iron chain sprang out of the wall to his right side and wound around his right wrist. He knew the procedure by now; whenever someone wanted to enter the cell, they felt compelled to shackle him up, even if it was only to slide in his food. The next step was to turn around anti-clockwise so his shackled arm was in his back, and then a second chain would emerge from the opposite wall and tie his left hand as well. Depending how jumpy the respective guards were, they'd sometimes conjure a blindfold as well - to prevent him from performing wandless magic. If only he was half as crafty as these guys gave him credit for!

The guards stayed outside observing him through a semi-transparent looking glass until finding him satisfyingly disabled, and undid the countless security spells on the door then. He was spared the blindfold this time, and Lucius sneered at them, "Is it already time for supper? Why, how time flies!"

"Funny as always, Malfoy. Your Law Wizard wants to have a private word with you."

"Private meaning you won't be peeping through your spy-hole?"

"We can gag you up if you don't stop wise-cracking."

"Tempting perspective, Mr Miller. If you ever were to lose this fabulous job, you'd have no problem hiring as a dominatrix in a bondage studio." Yep, he got the gag, in both ways, until the guards had sealed the door again and The Eel untied the cloth covering his mouth. "Hey Yax."

"Luce -" His visitor beckoned with a wry grin. "I'd say you look good, but you'd see right through me."

"I'd be my old handsome self if you idiot finally managed to get me a permission for shaving."

"Good to see you too, bitch."

"How come you glory these sombre halls with your shining presence, Yax?"

"Your wife's monthly letter is due, my friend."

Lucius couldn't keep up his sneering composure; his body tightened and he eyed the Law Wizard in hopeful anticipation. Without a watch, a calendar, he must have missed a couple of days in between, he hadn't expected her next letter for another two days. He could see how The Eel relished his moment of superiority, unrolling the parchment with laggard moves, narrowing his eyes, and taking another minute to find his reading glasses.

"You know, I think she's writing so dwarfishly on purpose."

"Yes, that's very, very likely! Now get on, you imbecile!"

"'My dearest Lucius," The Eel drawled in a bored voice. "Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and an even merrier twenty-fifth anniversary, mon amour. I have missed you like crazy. After being with you for a quarter of a century,' - gee, is it really that long?!"

"Shut up and read, asshole!"

"Just wondering, mate! 'I missed you so sorely that night! Professing all my life how much I enjoyed solitude, I've got to realise that I can hardly bear it when you are not there. Everything around here is pretty much as usual, you'll be pleased to hear that I fired two very inefficient accountants, and I finally understood the subtle distinction between the tax sheets XX-234-b and XX-270-a, which is going to save us roughly fourteen million galleons per annum in the future. I give you leave to buy me a nice present for my ingenuity, and what's more, my patience for working through your tax returns of the past fifteen years. Knowing that dear Mr Yaxley will read this out to you - hello there, Sir, I think you're owing my husband quite a fortune for your slackness' - that's not true, Luce, I -"

"Oh, shut your trap, Yaxley. I don't give a damn about the money and you know it. Read on, read on!"

"But I did never - oh, very well. 'I cannot wait for your return, chéri. Let us all hope that it's not going to take much longer. I cannot say how I survived the last six months without you, and I'm increasingly anxious how I am supposed to come through much longer. Christmas on my own was dreadful. Let's face it, I'm nothing without my two boys, but I have all faith in you to do everything in your power to come back to me as soon as you can. Yours ardently, devotedly and never wavering in my love and trust, N.' - Granted, she's writing pretty letters, buddy!"

Lucius was enthralled with each word, staring blankly into thin air for a while, before something else dawned on him. "Why was she alone on Christmas, Yax?"

"Oh, Draco stayed in Hogwarts this year."

"What?! Oh, this mindless little maggot! How can he - what - idiot! Leaving her alone! Now! Oh, I'll teach this son of mine a lesson, just wait!"

The Eel barely kept up his benevolent façade. "It appears that Narcissa and Draco have had a little tiff lately. Now keep down your blood pressure, pal, I haven't got all day, and I assume that you wish to write back to her?"

"I do, yes. But I feel I've got to mull over some phrases... I tell you something, pal - come back tomorrow, I'll dictate you my answer then."

"Don't be so bitchy, Lucius, I -"

"You are being very handsomely paid for your services, I believe. I expect you tomorrow. The time you save today, you'll use for paying Narcissa a visit, forward my delight with her note, and tell her that she'll receive a worthy answer in less than a day."

"Stop pushing me around, Lucius!"

"Elias, let's get this straight, shall we? We both know that I won't be in this dung hole forever. I don't have to remind you that it's been you procuring me such a short stay, and I'd be very much displeased if I'd have to be anything else but grateful to you once I'm at large again. Do we understand each other?"

"Perfectly," The Eel replied through gritted teeth.