Stairway to Heaven

And if you listen very hard

The tune will come to you at last

The dining room was being emptied for what was genuinely the last time, and Lucius led his family and both of his guests into the silent, shining black hall. He was quirking his eyebrows, murmuring something about emptiness, when the second maid, Aspen, came clattering up the servant's stairway into the hall.

"Sir Lucius!" she cried, and the terror she expressed in those two words was enough to send Misty's stomach plummeting to the ground. This is it, she thought, the time is upon us. "The--the Death Eaters, they are gathering in the village down the hill--"

Narcissa, Blaise, and Alaric all wore matching expressions of confused fear. Draco looked very surprised and shaken. Misty had paled to an inhuman white in a matter of seconds, her fists clenching at her sides. Only Lucius looked completely cool, not startled in the least, and in control of the moment.

Of course he's not startled, Misty observed, this was all part of his plan.

"How many?" he asked simply, quietly.

"Erin--the scullery maid--saw at least thirty, maybe even fifty!"

"What are they doing?"

Aspen's pallor, though not as significant as Misty's, was now evident. "Rioting, sir, breaking windows and doors... the violence hasn't started yet, and neither do the Muggles know of the magic..."

Blaise gave a weak, muffled scream. "They won't come up here, will they?"

To everyone's surprise but Misty's, Lucius smiled. "Not unless I tell them to."

This statement quickly sunk in, and because all in the room were from the family of Death Eaters, no one harbored more fear. Only confusion, and in Narcissa's face, a distinct sense of betrayal.

"Why tonight of all nights, Lucius?" As if he had gone gambling, not started a death march.

Lucius gaze now shifted to Misty, and she met his gaze uncomfortably. "Because," he murmured, "there were things that could not wait."

~*~

Narcissa immediately took control, sending Aspen to fetch Lucius his cloak and wand. It was taken for granted that he would be going out; only Misty knew, however, that she would be joining him.

"Blaise, I would advise staying in your room. Indoors, at any rate... perhaps you would entertain her with a game of chess, Alaric?" Narcissa's voice offered no room for other ideas, and the young boy toted his reluctant opponent off to find the pieces. "Draco, tell the servants that they are not to leave their quarters, and get some tea for me while you're at it." Her eldest son was gone in the blink of an eye, disappearing down the staircase before Misty could tell him anything.

Aspen returned then, handing Lucius his cloak and wand with an air of dazed disbelief. "Is it happening, then, sir?" she asked suddenly, as if unable to stop herself.

Lucius did not pause in clasping his black cloak about his shoulders, but he did look up at her. "Is what happening, girl?"

She bit her lip, obviously disconcerted, but continued, "The uprising, the return of the Dark Lord's followers. This is it, I presume?"

Lucius did pause then, but his gaze was not on her, was instead on the sudden burst of light erupting from the rooftops of the Muggle village far away. Flames licked at the stars before fading back down to the wooden frames of their victims; Misty flinched involuntarily at the sight of them.

Lucius face twisted into a horrid, thirsty grin, his eyes glinting in the light of the fire reflecting from the windowpanes. "Not only do followers return tonight, girl, but the Dark Lord as well."

Aspen's face was wiped of its desperate need; Narcissa look sharply at her husband, delicate eyebrows arching; Misty's pupils dilated so much and so quickly as to make her eyes look black. And all the while, Lucius stood, gazing with morbid satisfaction as his carefully laid plans began to run their full course.

~*~

And it's whispered that soon if we all call the tune

Then the piper will lead us to reason

Narcissa said nothing, only offered a sharp excuse that, "Lucius will be needing an alibi," before hurrying away, up the stairs to send some Galleons off to someone who'd be willing to tell a story when questioned. Lucius nodded after her, satisfied, and asked Aspen to head up to her room and say nothing to the other servants.

"Of course, sir," Aspen replied, crossing the hall as if in a dream and hurrying down the steps.

That left Misty, still white and rigid with dread, to face Lucius alone.

Lucius turned to her, his face still twisted. "Well, my Welsh guest, what have you to say now?"

Misty wanted nothing more to spit in his face, but she was well aware that if anyone had the upper hand, it was he. She could only be his captive now. "Where will you take me?"

"Down to the village," he supplied shortly, now finding a secure pocket for his wand.

"And then?"

He looked up at her again, eyes afire like the houses of the innocent Muggles. "And then you shall prove your worth as Mathamach's daughter."

"You should show respect for your elders, Father," Draco drawled, now crossing the hall with calm, controlled steps. "And use more than their Christian names. Do you not remember telling me the same thing?"

Lucius did not look at his son, looked instead out the window again. Fortunately, for he missed the look of disbelief and dislike crossing Draco's pale features. "Though my Welsh ally is my senior by a few years," Lucius said strongly, "I will be the leader of our cause when this night is over."

" 'Our cause'?" Draco asked. "Who does that include?"

"The respectable followers of the true Dark Lord, of course. Those who remained loyal, even after Potter's pitiful battle." Just saying the boy's name made two spots of fury appear high on Lucius's cheeks. But he turned toward Misty, smiling again. "And your little Welsh friend."

"What makes you think," Misty asked, now able to control her voice after struggling against rage for a few harsh minutes, "that I want to be included in your cause?"

"It doesn't matter what you want," Lucius replied simply. Misty's rage flared again, hotter than the flames now wreaking havoc upon the village.

Another silence stretched for many moments as she fought not to kill him then and there. Control yourself, she thought, do not use your power as Owain would not have.

Finally, Draco spoke up, and his cold, icy tone belied the hard anger underneath. "I've just spoken to the servants. They did not ask questions. But one of them was missing--Davina, the scullery maid."

Lucius swore under his breath, calling Davina an awful name. "She always has been one for slipping between my fingers--but this time, she'll not live to run away again."

Again? Misty thought, and once again remembered that the other servants had been saying that Davina had experienced some sort of trauma when she first arrived at Malfoy Manor. Some scenes played themselves out in Misty's mind, but she pushed them aside, wanting only to focus on what was happening between Lucius, Draco, and herself in that hall.

"Fine, Draco, that's all I need. Go now," Lucius demanded, but his voice was that of one who did not expect a challenge.

"Misty is coming with me," Draco said swiftly, and Misty felt a rush of gratitude toward him.

"No," Lucius replied, taking her hand and dragging her toward the door. Her body was still numb--she did not resist.

But suddenly Draco was blocking their way. "She is coming with me," he repeated, and this time, he looked his father in the eye, defiance evident in the set of his jaw, the line of his face.

"Stupefy!" Lucius said, without a flicker of hesitation, and Misty knew that that action had sealed her dislike--no, hatred--for the man.

"Draco!" she called out as the young man fell to the ground, surprise still etched into his frozen features. As Misty wrenched her wrist from Lucius, horrified that he could do such a thing to his own flesh and blood without procrastinating, she thanked all the higher powers that he had not done worse. For she knew, oh, how she knew, that worse spells than the Stunning Spell existed.

"Come on," he growled, and his voice was steely enough to send a wave of shivers down Misty's spine. She knew that she was not surrendering, that she was not yet defeated, but she also knew that she had to follow, so follow she did, staring sorrowfully back over her shoulder at Draco's cold, unmoving body.