My Bad Faith

I sat on an inkline-narrow couch in a room I cannot recall ever visiting before. Upon inspecting my previous choice in room, I had discover the lack of windows and indefinately settled upon a room three to the left of my own. The walls and floor, as the majority of the rest of the house, were made of stone. My quiet features reflected off of the marble floor with a grey gleam to it, ugly and distorted with the dim lighting from only one window drawn open. A sharp April breeze bit my ears as it sneaked through that window at the far end. The room was immaculent: every corner swept, every cobweb dusted, every ledge scrubbed, and every knob polished.

In the corner sat a large brown crate with "This Side Up" painted in sloppy script, but, of course, upside down. Beside the box laid several stones worth of packages from well-wishers and associates. The announcemnent that I tried so hard to postpone was revealed when my wife foolishly attended a ladies’ luncheon while five-months pregnant. It wasn't as though it would have fooled anyone, the number of thick robes she wore to cover herself. Narcissa's "joyful" pregnancy had turned into months of middle-of-the-night bathroom breaks, insane cravings (no one eats horseradish and cow-tongue when they are dying of starvation, let alone mentally stable), polar moods, and, my favourite, vomitting followed by the "Why-did-you-have-to-do-this-to-me" speech. I'm fairly sure I have that one memorized by now. "I hate you! You selfish bastard! All you men think about is sex -- don't you care what I'm going through?" or something to the same effect.

I stood from the over-cushioned couch that Narcissa insisted we buy ages upon ages ago (although we never used it), simply because a friend of hers had one similar to it. My feet echoed pleasantly while making my way toward the boxes and bags. I flicked my wand and the large crate slid forward, and with another wave, the nails began ripping themselves from the wood and into a pile. I stepped up to the crate and peered in. It was filled to the brim with all sorts of odd shaped contraptions, bolts, bars, metal bits and such. The folded sheet ontop said in thick letters: PUTTING TOGETHER YOUR BASINET. Step 1- Screw parts C and K together with size two screw (located in bag J) and-

I laughed and threw the paper back into the crate. Please. I was not about to put together some horrid cage for an infant. I didn't see why he had to sleep in the damned thing and not a bed. I had mentioned this to Narcissa, but she pointed out, with hellish vigour, that the baby would roll off and hit his (although she said "her") head and die. And then we'd be thought of as horrible parents and atrosities to wizard kind and the such-like. When I pointed out that babies didn't roll over for some weeks after they were born, she burst into tears and reprimanded me for not caring for the child's future, and how I didn't love her anymore, and how I never kissed her since she got fat.

Proposterous! What nonsense for her to ramble on over! Women. Really.

Well, there was that one time I refused to kiss her.

No one likes horse-radish-cow-tongue breath.

I glared at the crate and surrounding packages. The baby wasn't due for another three months; cages, bibs, and that sack of rattling kabobs could wait. I made for the door when I heard the raspy scratch of leaves outside the open window. I peered at the lawn and saw Lee raking dry debris away from the poisonous tentacula.

"Hey, you!"

The gardener looked up at me, small coal eyes squinting at me un the spring sun. Is a voice like crunching leaves, he said, "Yessir, Mister Malfoy?"

"You handy with building things?"

He thought, brownish skin wrinkling on his brow as he did. "Believe so, sir."

I smirked at my fortune. "Put this damned contraption together." Lee dropped his rake, dodging a purple and green viney whip of the venomous plant, and marched inside like a tin soldier.

I closed the window and thought of getting a drink -- deffinately a strong one -- when there was a buzzing in my head and a dull fire throbbing my forearm. I peeled back my black sleeve and saw a greyish blur on my skin, waxing more vivid in color and form. In an hour it would be darker than night and tatooed to my flesh with mole-hair thin detail: a menacing skull with deep eyes laden with fathomless knowledge and a coiling snake that stares straight into the soul. Personally, I think it looks remarkable; it repells Narcissa, and she turns up her nose when she sees it. I'm not sure if it is the sight of it, or the consequences that follow once it appears. The Mark used to seer my flesh, but I became used to it. My Lord called on me often.

Rolling down my sleeve, I opened the bedroom door and strode back to my own room for a travelling cloak. The room was silent and dark, a deathly still air about the place. Without anyone in there, it often seemed as though a body had just died. The silence, although I generally enjoyed noise-less moments, was thick and mde it difficult to breathe. In my wardrobe I found a deep green cloak, black in the shadows, and fastened the metal clasps against my thraot. I Apparated towards the spine-bending pain.

The sun mocked me when I arrived, thrusting darts of brightness at my eyes and taunting me with its heat. I crossed the sea of grass, long and willowy from years of seclusion from people and animals, toward a group of men talking boldly against a silent sky.

"Damn that Pettigrew! How did he get so close to Voldemort? Such a pathetic excuse for -- for anything! Man-parasite-rat-Death Eater... You name it and he's the worst they make of it!" The man, who had his back to me, spat on the ground: the saliva dripped off of the tip of grass blades into the soil. Disgusting.

I approached the group and Nott nodded at me in acknowledgement before glancing back at the man who had spoken, his thick mud-coloured hair shifting in a heavy breeze. "Indeed," he muttered with contempt. "He must know something which we do not. I mean, really. Master knows that Pettigrew is less than attiquett is everything-" The others laughed, while I said nothing. "-there's just got to be-"

"He has intimate relations with the Potters," interrupted a voice like silk dragged over a cliff face, snagging and tearing on rocks as it went.

I turned, and hearing the shuffle of feet against grass, I knew that the other men had turned also. His jaw was set and his long Roman nose tipped downward as he smirked. A stranger, and yet- oddly familiar. I knew him from somewhere, but I could think of no recollection in my mind that involved him. Thnking he might, perhaps, be with the Ministry of Magic and I had seen him when I once worked there, I deftly reached for my wand. He stopped advancing toward us with leizure when he noted my hand. He lifted his brow and then his liquid black eyes to mine.

"Come now- if I were a threat, would I simply walk alone through his Lordship's camp? I should think otherwise."

I titled my chin, a sharp nod, and replaced my wand to its pocket. I liked this man. Although he was sallow with concaved cheeks and harsh features, he had an attitude that I could appreciate as a Death Eater. He was mildly young, I could see the inexperience in the way he held himself -- tall and brisk, but jaunty shoulders -- about early twenties, I suppose, and moderately strong-looking. He certainly seemed not one to cross, although I pose the same demand of respect. He had that air about him, marking him as not an idle toy, and I wondered how well he could take orders, this young one.

"Who are you?" asked Nott, narrowing his eyes in distrust.

"Snape."

"Surname?" Nott asked, the stranger with thick black hair nodded. "Got a forename?"

"Just Snape." He looked at me with cold eyes and I knew without a doubt that I had before met him. But where?

"Pettigrew is a parasite- look at how he feeds off of that miserable Potter's fame... Pathetic.

I blinked twice in remembrance and felt my lip twitch compulsively into a smirk. "A Slytherin. Should have known. You're certainly not the same thiriteen year old you once were."

Snape's pointed chin jutted forward in an uncharming way, and he frowned. "I should think so. No one likes a snivelling brat."

"No indeed."

McNair looked between the two of us and shook his head. "Figures. Slytherins are always at it."

"Nail your gob shut, McNair," said another man.

"At least I wasn't a Ravenclaw," McNair retorted. The man opened his mouth to snap back when the world seemed to freeze. The few birds that had once annoyingly chirped in gaity flew away suddenly and a thick silence fell heavily on my shoulders. Lord Voldemort had arrived.

The men, about fifty or so of us, lined up for his roll-call. Snape stood apart from us and quietly waited. Stepping from behind a thick oak, a narrow man with expressive eyes and black matted hair. We bowed low to our Master and he passed by our tilted heads. He seemed to be mentally taking notes as he passed an empty station here and there, frowning, but his face showed the utmost disheartment when he arrived at my side.

"I expected another tonight- Did I not ask you to bring your wife?"

My heart jumped. I had utterly forgotten. "My Lord, she is pregnant and unable to travel- my wife..." I sighed. He knew me a liar when I opened my mouth. "I beg your forgiveness, Master. I did not think."

"Indeed? She will come next time, then. No matter the circumstance, Lucius. I will not have you disobey my orders." He moved on and I remembered to breathe. When he had completed his rounds, Voldemort approached Snape, long fingers extended toward the new-comer in a delicate and intricate fashion. The fingers seemed to slice through the air and break the silence with a strained voice, dropping onto Snape's shoulders and giving him a mild squeeze.

"We have made a new companion tonight- or soon will have. Give me your arm, Snape. I will initiate you." Snape looked over his crooked nose at Lord Voldemort, and a fraction quicker than reluctance, he thrust out his arm and glanced away. "Frightened?"

"No, my Lord. I am not afraid."

Voldemort gave a sort of half-snort and half-chuckle before seizing the pale arm about the wrist firmly and etched harsh circles into Snape's flesh with his fingernail. I watched Snape's lips twitch and his shoulders jerk about. I recall that pain. This man was brave, men greater than he have screamed out in anguish. Not me, of course.

Voldemort muttered a few well-chosen words and dropped the arm. "There. It will be tender for an hour or so, and then it will vanish into your skin. You may feel slight pain when I call upon you, and, by some miracle, you are unable to feel it, an image will appear right here." He touched a red mark on his arm, and Snape flinched. "You'll know it when you see it." Snape knelt on the ground, liftied the hem of my Lord's robes to his mouth and kissed it. "Thank you, Master."

The meeting ended sometime later when the sky bled in the sky, turning the clouds millions of colours. Voldemort stopped me as I headed out. "Lucius- Generally, I conduct my loyalty tests later in the year, but I find is expedient to try you soon."

I was appalled, and I hoped against hope I didn't let on to it. Me? Unloyal? "Yes, my Lord."

"I will call on you later. You may want to prepare- this thing which I ask will be great." I nodded and bowed myself out of his view before Apparating away. I returned to my room, finding it occupied by my wife. The lights were off, as usual, and she was asleep in the bed. The heavy breathing from her lungs seemed to tilt the room, like a boat gently rocking near shore at low tide. A calm, soothing rythme that made my head heavy and limbs weary. I fought to urge to slip into the bed and drift off to sleep and left the room. It was awful. I felt suddenly sentimental- felt as though I were changing. There was only one thing to do. Torment the elves.

Realising that I had had little to eat that day, I went to the kitchens, leaky and murky, filled with humid heat. The brick walls that lined the room were grey from stove smoke, but remarkably clean, despite that. The female elf- Cola?- stood upon three lopsided boxes and leaned into a large brown basin filled with suds and dishes. She scrubbed away, not noticing that I had entered. Angered and hungry, I opened my mouth to reprimand her when Dobby suddenly appeared at my heels.

"Master Malfoy! Can Dobby be doing somethng for the Master?" his voice squeaked eargerly. "Dobby can be getting Master some food, he can! What is the Master wanting?" I looked down at Dobby and frowned. What a miserable creature. His large yellow eyes followed me as I left the kitchen.

"Something strong to drink and some ham will be enough, you," I called over my shoulder. I sat in the dining hall and waited but four minutes for a plate and my wine. I did not thank him, heavens no, it was his duty to please me. Sadly, he was doing his job well. When I complained that the ham was unacceptable, although it was, he brought me another plate. I was furoius. Couldn't he do something wrong so that I could punish him? A little mishap? Anything? God, how I hated that thing.

As I sent back my fourth plate and called for a finer vintage of wine, which the other male elf charged himself with, Dobby came up behind me and tugged my robe. "Master? There is a man at the door. He wishes to see you, but Dobby does not like him, Master, he does not. Shall Dobby send him in, Master?"

I glared at him. "I care not what you think of this man. If he needs to see me, send him in. Go!" Dobby's eyes went unhealthily wide and darted out of the room. At least I had something to punish him for. I grunted and pushed my plate away. I didn't need a reason for punishing any of my servants. I was the master- Dobby was the servant. Upon hearing the arrival of another guest, I was brought another glass and more wine.

The still room went so silent I thought I had gone deaf. Standing, I turned to bow to my master. "Lord, it is an honour to have you in my home."

"Stand, Lucius. We have much to discuss." Voldemort sat in a chair and poured himself some wine. He sipped at it, then wrinkled his nose and set the glass back on table top. I sat and watched him intently. "You have been a faithful servant, Lucius, there is no doubt."

"Thank you, my Lord."

He waved a hand. "Nonsense. There is no reason you question your loyalties- other than a simple act or forgetfulness. You shall not forget again."

"No, my Lord."

His eyes peirced my soul. "We must make sure." He handed me a small bottle. "Get your wife to willingly drink this, Lucius, and you shall be rewarded."

I looked at the hexagonal cyllinder will yellow fluid in it. "All of it?"

"Enough."

Hesitant, I glanced up. "What will it do?"

"You do not trust me?"

"Nothing of the sort, Master! I only-" I lost my words as they reached my tongue.

He sighed, annoyed. "Malfoy, you will get your wife to willingly drink that potion. It will kill the child she carries. This is a test of your loyalty."

I didn't speak. It didn't seem neccessary. He knew exactly what I was feeling. Anyone would.

"Your child is a threat to me, Lucius. I cannot have a Malfoy in the way." Voldemort stood and looked around the room. "Awfully dark in here. Open a window or two, Lucius. You'll go blind."

"Master, I-"

"Lucius, I cannot force you, you know that. This is a test. You can receive top marks- or fail. Your choice. I will show myself out, thank you. Have a nice evening, Lucius." Voldemort piveted on the balls of his feet and slid out of the room. His feet made barely a sound as he departed. I stared at the bottle for a moment, then pocketed it and went to my room.

I would not fail.

I paused at the door, not wanting to go in, and angered at myself that I was pondering not to accept the mission. resigning myself, I thrust open one of the double doors and went to the bedside. I tugged at the sheet and Narcissa stirred.

"Narcissa, up."

"Whhmm? Have the guests arrived?" she mumbled.

"Guests? Why, no, but- Never mind. Narcissa. Drink this," I demanded.

She opened one sleepy eye and glanced at the bottle in my hand. After looking at my face, she sat up and brushed the blonde hairs from his shoulders. I noticed how thin her hair looked lately, whispy and wind-blown. Like a fragile doll of glass might have. I sat on the bed and handed it to her.

"What is it?"

"It's-" I thought of lying, deception. It was not uncommon for a child to die during a pregnancy, right? Looking into her hazy eyes and seeing the coconut-cream night dress slipping from her shoulders, I felt a strange new emotion- empathy? sympathy? No, guilt. "It will kill the baby."

Her eyes went the size of Galleons and her lips parted. "The baby? But- but why? I thought- I thought that you didn't mind..."

"Narcissa-" Her eyes were still large and hollow. "My Lord wishes for this. He says- he says that our child is a threat. Narcissa, either the child dies before she has a chance or my Master will kill her himself. Drink the potion." Her eyes were spilling over with tears and her hand clutched at her garments about the belly.

"You think I should?"

I nodded, hoping she thought I was confident in my descision. "Drink."

Her shoulders shook vividly as she wept and my wife took the vial to her beautiful lips and drank the entire flask in a gulp. She gasped out loud and fell forward into my shoulder. "I'll never forgive you, Lucius," she cried softly before sniffing. "It tasted like tapioca."

"It was."

We both jumped visibly and turned to the shadows. "Master!" I exclaimed, leaping from the bed as though I had been pricked in the arse but a length of needle.

Voldemort stepped forward. "What did I tell you about windows, Lucius? You surely would have seen me there had you obeyed."

"I beg forgiveness, Lord." I bowed. He laughed. My Lord laughed. A heavy and thick laugh.

"Nonsense, Lucius. It was a joke. And a test- which you both passed."

I glanced at my wife. "Narcissa was being tested, also?"

He nodded, but did not look at me. He instead walked over to Narcissa and took her hand. She looked up at him with red eyes. It was quite unattractive, and certainly not how I'd like my wife to be present to my Lord for the first time. "Woman, your child is safe. It was merely tapioca- clever, if I do say so myself. Come." He took her hand and placed it on her belly. She looked up suddenly.

"The baby kicked!"

He nodded. "I expect to see you both at the next meeting, regardless. Is that understood?"

We both managed a "Yes" and he was gone. Narcissa dried her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Lucius- I will never forgive you," she said. I didn't reply. Then she smiled. "You said, 'she.'"