Ice

Chapter 11: "He doesn't have the answers, and if he did, he'd lie."-- Hoyt Axton, "The Devil

"So am I to meet your Miss Black, Son? Or shall you present her to me on your wedding day?"

Hiding his annoyance, Lucius looked up from the Daily Prophet. Why did his father insist on talking to him at breakfast? He had never been one for casual conversation; he preferred to be left alone to read the paper in the morning. Not that he was necessarily concentrating on the admittedly boring article about cauldron standardization as his mind was torturing him with images of the delectable Miss Black sprawled beneath him on the ground. Or in his bed. Or on the breakfast table ...

"Son?"

Lucius was mildly horrified to feel a slight flush on his cheeks as he met his father's gaze. He was even more horrified to see his father smirk--the Malfoy men were infamous for that expression--in a knowing manner that suggested he knew exactly whom his son was thinking of that morning. "Yes?" Lucius snapped, annoyed. He hated to be out of his element, and for some reason, he felt that way here at his own breakfast table.

His father arched a brow in a hauntingly familiar gesture. "I merely inquired as to the likelihood my meeting the future Mrs. Malfoy sometime in the foreseeable future," Aurelius drawled. Lucius felt a tic start in his jaw at the irritating superiority in his father's tone and was completely aware how hypocritical that was as his own voice often reflected that very same tone.

"I have yet to speak to Miss Black's father about an engagement," Lucius answered tightly. It did not bear mentioning to his father that he had not exactly spoken to Narcissa about an engagement either. He rather thought that was unnecessary after their encounter at the Travers' ball, but one could never tell with Narcissa. The thought was amusing, and he was rather looking forward to introducing his affianced to his father--regardless of the fact she was not yet technically his affianced. He was certain she would win his father over with her cool confidence and easy, demure smile. The fact that it was all an act pleased him to no end. "I shall speak with Miss Black and bring her round for dinner," Lucius said, standing up. He nodded to his father and left the breakfast room, intent on finishing up some correspondence. At some point, he rather suspected he'd have to go round to Ravensden and speak with Narcissa's father--not to mention the lady herself.

His morning plan was interrupted when a house-elf informed him that he had a visitor while he worked at his mahogany desk in his study. "A Mrs. Lestrange," the elf said, its eyes huge and wide. Lucius did not blame the elf; Bellatrix's name inspired fear in a great many individuals. I do not count myself among them, Lucius thought, annoyed at the interruption. He had the elf show her to his study while gathering his wits about him. At least one person in the room should be in full possession of their wits. Bellatrix sauntered into his study in a leisurely fashion as if she did such a thing on a daily basis. The thought that she might very well have if he had not come to his senses almost caused him to shudder, although he would not think of doing so in her presence. Bellatrix was beautiful, conniving, unscrupulous and cruel. They were entirely too alike to have suited each other, a fact he had realized long before he'd seen the potential for madness in those obsidian eyes. She was a talented witch and a fantastic lover, but she bored him. There was no mystery with Bellatrix--she made no effort to hide anything about herself.

"Mrs. Lestrange," he drawled, unconsciously echoing his father's superior tone from moments earlier, "to what do I owe the dubious honor of your presence?"

She laughed delightedly. "Ah, Malfoy, dubious honor indeed. And I insist you call me Bellatrix," she said, running her tongue over her top lip. When Narcissa did that, he had an urge to shove her against a wall and bite her. Bellatrix's affection of that same gesture made him want to hex her or throw Crucio on her just for a bit of sport.

"I hardly think that proper, Mrs. Lestrange." He put an emphasis on her name as if to remind her that their association was outwardly casual at best.

"Come now, Malfoy," she said, walking around to perch on his desk. She smiled charmingly. "After all, I'm to be your sister-in-law, and what place does formality have between family?" As she said this, she met his eyes and rubbed her right hand over her left arm lightly.

Lucius' stare was cold. "I see," he said softly, narrowing his eyes at her. Some of the smugness left her smile--Lucius Malfoy had a much greater talent at intimidation than Bellatrix could ever hope to have. It requires ice in the veins, Bellatrix, not fire. "And how did you arrive at this information, Bellatrix?" His sneering emphasis on her first name left no doubt he was mocking her.

Some of the malicious humor left her face, and he saw something dark flare in her eyes. "When I saw my sister return home last night with dirt on her back, bruises and bite marks on her neck and twigs in her hair," she answered him in a tense voice. "If you are playing with her, Malfoy, so help me, Avada will be the last of your worries."

Lucius was rather adept at tuning out Bellatrix's theatrics when they were directed elsewhere, but when they were aimed at him they succeeded in giving him a headache. One of the few downsides to his decision to marry Narcissa was that he would unfortunately be obliged to spend more time in her presence. That thought gave him pause. I am willingly aligning myself with this mad harpy? For a moment, he rather pitied Rodolphus. Surely the man did not find her talents in the bedroom--as inspired as they were-- to be adequate compensation for the fact she was bloody insane?

Although he knew the prudent thing to do would be to inform Bellatrix that she was correct and that he intended to marry her sister, some devious instinct had him raise his chin and glare down his aristocratic nose at her and say loftily, "My business with your sister is just that, my business, Bella." He hid a smirk as she shrieked at him and pointed her wand in undisguised fury. She was not aiming at his heart. So easy to rile, Bellatrix, he thought, amused. She was insane and dangerous, but he was just as dangerous--if not more so--and had the added benefit of having his sanity intact.

"Malfoy, I do not care what you do with any other female in England, the continent or beyond, but you hurt my sister and I shall see you in hell, do you hear me?"

"All of Wiltshire heard you, Bella," he said calmly, noting how his use of her nickname irritated her when he had steadfastly refused to use it before. "And I daresay you will see me in hell, regardless. However," he said, holding up a hand as she made another one of those highly irritating shrieking sounds, "I am delighted to inform you that I fully intend on marrying Narcissa. So you may put that wand down and cease using your sister as an excuse to challenge me."

He had surprised her with his last comment. "Malfoy, you misunderstand me. I am not challenging you over anything except my sister. I refuse to allow anyone to hurt Narcissa." Her face was flushed, eyes narrowed, wand still held aloft--he'd seen this look on her before, but she was usually enjoying herself much more than she appeared to be at the present moment. Her voice was deadly serious, and Lucius knew Bellatrix Lestrange well enough to know that her voice never lied.

"I hardly think Narcissa needs protection from you," he said, unable to believe that bit of nonsense for a second. Bellatrix could kill, but Narcissa could commit murder while appearing to mourn the death of the recently deceased. He smiled at the thought.

Predictably, his words ruffled her pride, and she lowered her wand. "Look, Malfoy, I did not come here to get into a battle of wits with you--"

"Of course not," he said blandly, smirking as she stamped her foot in outrage at his casual interruption. "You are not fond of fighting losing battles, Bella, I'm aware of that."

"Believe it nor not," she said, pointedly ignoring his sarcastic rejoinder, "I came here to give you some advice."

These words wiped the smirk off his face, and he knew she was familiar with the look he was giving her--eyes empty, face expressionless. She was intelligent enough to be wary and took a step back. Those that received that look from Malfoy usually did not live to describe it, but she had never been at the receiving end of it. Nor did he think she wished to be, knowing as she did the fate of those who were.

"My family is very traditional and still suffering from the atrocity my former sister committed against our good name," she said, and he knew he'd frightened her with his look as she neglected to descend into her usual hysterics at the briefest allusion to Andromeda. "You are going to have to ask father for permission to marry her, you know. And while I am sure my parents are fooled into thinking you are nothing more than a wealthy young wizard, I would be cautious if I were you to do nothing to suggest this is anything but the truth."

"I am aware of the formalities of such matters, Mrs. Lestrange," he said coolly. "I hardly see why this is worthy of a visit, as charming as this little conversation has been."

She looked at him and smiled slyly. "I wanted to make sure you were right for her, Malfoy. Narcissa is very special to me. If anything were to happen to her..."

"Yes, yes, your aforementioned banishment to one of the hells," Lucius laughed. "I'm going to marry her, not throw her in my dungeon," he said crossly, losing his patience. However, the thought I'm not entirely sure she would be opposed to that brought the briefest of smiles to his lips. Deciding he'd antagonized his future sister-in-law enough for the day, he kept that thought to himself. Pity - he would have been eager to see if she would deny it or if she even knew that about the quiet Narcissa ...

"If you will excuse me, Mrs. Lestrange, I believe I have an errand to run," he said smoothly, catching her arm and practically dragging her out of the door. "So good of you to stop by and wish me well on my upcoming nuptials."

She was uncharacteristically quiet as he paused in the foyer, headed towards his chambers and waiting for her to walk the opposite way towards the entranceway.

"I really do care about her, Malfoy," Bellatrix said, her voice soft. He looked at her and saw that she spoke nothing but the absolute truth. Bellatrix is fiercely loyal; I should not be surprised.

Feeling oddly as if he owed her something in that moment, he nodded. "As do I," he said gruffly. Lucius was uncomfortable with such talk, most especially with a woman he'd once been intimately involved with.

She returned his nod with a brief inclination of her head. She was almost out of the Manor when he heard her say, "Oh, and Malfoy? I suggest you ask Narcissa to marry you before informing all and sundry about it except for her. Narcissa does not like to be the last to know things. She abhors being kept in the dark--unwillingly I should say."

There was an implicit warning in her voice that he recognized, an allusion to something other than his upcoming marriage. "I shall endeavor to rectify that as soon as possible," he said smoothly. 'Good day, Mrs. Lestrange." He walked away, not looking back as he was certain she could find her way out. She was rather gifted at that, and he had far more important things to occupy his time that morning.