Ice

Chapter 20: And the angels, all pallid and wan, Uprising, unveiling, affirm--That the play is the tragedy, "Man," And its hero the Conqueror Worm.--Edgar Allen Poe, Ligeia

Two Years Later

Narcissa Malfoy sat stone-faced and rigid in her seat as her husband was brought forward, his head held high and his arms behind his back and shackled with chains. The rage threatened to engulf her -- How dare they treat Lucius this way, how dare they!-- but she banked it down forcefully and focused her attention on the proceedings. Her body was taut with the effort it took not to scream at them, those judges who weeks ago had sentenced her sister and her brother-in-law to life in prison in Azkaban. Before Narcissa could fully grasp the horror of what had just happened to her sister, she was forced to watch her husband possibly be handed the same fate.

Defiant until the end, Bellatrix was seated like a queen upon her throne in the dungeons, and indeed she was. Her loyalty to the Dark Lord was unsurpassed, and her fervor shone in her dark black eyes, lending a dark, fearsome beauty to her madness. Enchained in the dungeons of the Ministry and awaiting her fate, her sister remained proud and insolent as she stared down her accusers.

There had been no question about her culpability. Bellatrix refused to deny what she was and what she had done. She had swept from the room like some dark queen in exile, head held high and her voice still ringing in the chamber, "We alone were faithful!" Bellatrix and Rodolphus had refused to denounce Voldemort even after the unthinkable had happened, and he had been brought down by the Boy Who Lived. She would not betray her master, and she and Rodolphus were sent together to live the rest of their lives in the cold island prison of Azkaban. Narcissa had met her sister's eyes briefly, but the heavy-lidded black depths held no sign of recognition. Bellatrix Black Lestrange had lost her humanity long ago. Torturing the Longbottom family brought her to justice but it was far too late to save her soul.

Narcissa had not cried when Bella had been taken out by the Dementors. She had remained stiff-necked and dry-eyed, refusing to give that vile Rita Skeeter or the press any reason to slander her family's name in print. She had gone home, however, and unbidden came the thought of her sister's words on her wedding day: Why, you could lock me away with him forever, and I'd be a happy girl. She had laughed in a manic way reminiscent of her mad sister at the memory.

Now you'll have your wish, Bellatrix. Lost in thought, she had stared out of the window of her bedroom at the very gardens where she had been married. When Lucius had entered their bedroom, he had been surprised to see her eyes dry and tearless. She did not know how to explain to him she had known Bellatrix's fate was inevitable for years.

She had known they would come for him, of course; there as no way he would escape their notice. They had been seated in the drawing room when the Aurors came. Narcissa had been expecting them. She had not looked at Lucius when they took him away; she did not think she could look in his eyes and retain her composure. His parting words to her had been only, "See to our son." When he was gone, she had walked to her son's bedroom, curled her body around his sleeping form and sobbed herself to sleep.

It was the last time she'd cried.

Caring for a toddler took her time and her attention during the day. She forced an effort for his sake. He did not understand why his father was gone. She played on the floor with him and his little toys. She sang him to sleep and stroked the white-blonde hair that was so achingly familiar. She tried to forget where Lucius spent his nights. Sometimes at night, she would wish she had taken the Mark after all. She was envious of her sister -- Bellatrix had Rodolphus, at least. Narcissa thought she might have been able to endure Azkaban if Lucius was by her side. However, the small sleeping child in her arms hardened her resolve, and she had spent endless hours reading the books and lining the pockets of anyone who was willing with gold. The world was upside down and crazy after the fall of the Dark Lord, and many were willing to overlook ethics in the face of putting their lives back together with the help of gold galleons.

She had visited him once and only once in Azkaban. He did not want her to be there; he told her he would refuse to allow her to return if she tried. Narcissa had stared at him through the bars, her chin raised in an appropriate show of Malfoy pride. She had to bribe six guards and three officials to even see him, and although her heart ached at the site of her beloved behind bars, her mind remained clear and focused. He did not marry you to fall apart at his feet. She had sworn to never abandon her family in their time of strife, and by Merlin, she would not.

His hair had been down, his face bruised as if he had been struck. "Did they hit you?" Her voice had trembled in a fine range, and he had smiled briefly at the sound and nodded.

"I remember when I first met you, Narcissa," he'd said, his voice rough from being unused. "You looked at me in the darkness, like you are doing now, and you trembled in rage at the fate life had dealt you even though you tried so well to hide it. I wanted you then, you know. You were so beautiful that night, just as you are now -- so cold and furious. It is so easy to forget how ice can burn." He'd closed his eyes as if in pain.

She had fought tears at his words. He was not a man of pretty speeches; his words were chosen carefully and never spoken casually. "I want you to come home," she'd said, forcing her voice to be steady. "I know that you lost everything you believed in, Lucius, everything you swore to uphold, when the Dark Lord fell. And I must admit, it was touching indeed to watch my sister swear her loyalty to our defeated lord in such a dramatic fashion." She leaned forward, not touching him but staring up into his mercurial eyes. "I have lost both of my sisters, and I will not lose you."

He smiled at her, but he had never been a warm man and his smiles were often more frightening than comforting. Except to Narcissa, who cherished every dark gesture he had ever bestowed upon her. I am not foolish enough to think we have chosen the easy way. It is not easy to love in the darkness. He reached through the bars and caught up her hand, his hands cold from the chill. He did not press a kiss on her palm, but he tightened his fingers about her wrist, and her knees went weak when she saw the bruise he had left.

She did not see her sister when she left. Bellatrix had long become someone she did not know, had long ago been consumed by the flames of the dark fire to which she had pledged herself. She had returned to Malfoy Manor to play with her son, to see that the house was running smoothly, to do all those things a proper mother and wife did. At night she stared at her bruise in the moonlight and wept for her dark lover, imprisoned in Azkaban.

She had dressed carefully for his trial, and she ignored all convention and dressed her son to accompany her. They shall think it a ploy to sway the judges, and so it is. I am a Slytherin, and I shall use whatever is necessary to free him. Regardless if that is myself and my son. She had cried her tears and refused to show up at Lucius' trial looking defeated and wan. If this was the last time Lucius was to ever see her, she would be the woman he had fallen in love with. Despite the atrocities he had committed in Voldemort's name, he loved her, and she knew it. She would not dishonor that love by falling apart at his trial.

The cameras had flashed when she went into the Ministry. She heard them calling her name, wanting her to talk. She was used to the whispers of the other young women, Narcissa Malfoy is young and beautiful with a little son; she should denounce Malfoy and save herself. Once again, they underestimated her. She ignored them, ignored the jeering and the anger of the crowd as she passed them. "Murderer! Lucius Malfoy is a murderer!" She took her seat, placed her child next to her and smiled down at him. "Draco," she said quietly, "there's your father."

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He had not wanted her to come but found he could not stop a surge of pride when he saw her there, dressed in her finery, her chin raised imperiously. His eyes touched on his son briefly. The boy look bewildered and confused but remained quiet. I wanted the world to be worthy of you. Both of you.

His attention went to the judges. Crouch glared at him with a burning hatred in his eyes; it did not bother Lucius one bit. He had stared down men more frightening than Bartemius Crouch. That man could give my sister-in-law a lesson in fanaticism, Lucius thought, allowing himself a slight sneer as he met Crouch's gaze.

"Mr. Lucius Malfoy," Crouch intoned, and Lucius inclined his head briefly. "You know why you are here, I suppose?"
"I believe I am on trial, Mr. Crouch," Lucius drawled, pleased to see the flush on Crouch's face as he made his own expressionless. I've had much more practice than you, Crouch, keeping my face impassive.

"You are hereby accused of being a supporter of the Dark Lord, of being a Death Eater and of committing atrocious crimes against Muggles and Muggle-borns in his name. Do you deny this?"

It was pointless to deny it so he did not. "I do not deny I was a Death Eater, no," Lucius said calmly, hearing the gasps of the crowd with an odd sort of sardonic amusement. Why would I lie about that when they could pull my sleeve up and expose me as a liar to all and sundry? Some of them had tried that in the beginning -- tried to deny they were Death Eaters, pretended the Dark Lord had branded them in revenge that they would not serve.

"So you do not deny you have committed these crimes?" Crouch's voice was harsh. He was leaning forward and staring at Malfoy intently.

"I believe that would be rather pointless of me, don't you? No doubt you will find scores of witnesses to place me at the scene of whatever crime you wish to convict me of," he said calmly. Crouch's eyes narrowed.

"Just so we are all straight, Mr. Malfoy, just so we shall have no ... misunderstandings ... later, you are fully admitting to being a Death Eater in the service of You-Know-Who and to having committed the most heinous acts against your fellow man?"

They were hardly my equals, you pitiful fool. "I am."

"Then before I cast down your sentence, have you anything to say in your defense? Any reason my colleagues and I should not sentence you to a lifetime in Azkaban?"

There could be the fact my wife has successfully bribed the majority of your so-called 'associates' by now, Crouch. They do not care if one more Death Eater goes to jail or not. They merely want to earn something for their efforts. For a moment, Lucius found himself thinking of Bellatrix and his sister-in-law's proud defiance and screams of loyalty as they carried her away. He'd heard her in Azkaban; he heard her fanatical cries to their fallen Master as he'd lain awake in his cell.

There was a moment he was enticed by that idea, to go down with a proud sneer, pledging his continual support to the Dark Lord as they dragged him away. Unlike his sister-in-law, however, it was not entirely loyalty to Voldemort that had him consider this option but merely that he did not believe for one moment that brat had caused the Dark Lord's defeat. He has fallen, but he is not dead. He will rise again, and will I be punished for failing to declare myself and allow myself to be locked away?

For the first time since the trial began, his eyes touched on his wife and his small son. He remembered the night they'd looked at the stars, the night she'd joked about naming their future child Draco. He remembered the stars shining above them as he'd handed her the ring he'd killed to give her, and he saw the child that was the future of his family. Your name came from a moment of mirth and frivolity followed by a moment of darkness, Draco. His father's words echoed in his mind, the father he had not seen or heard from since his wedding day. Lucius, do not forget that the Malfoy name owns your allegiance first and foremost ... The future of this family means more than any other course you've marked out for yourself. He saw Narcissa, her eyes unreadable, and he looked once more at his son. It was then that he knew why she had come and why she had brought his son to his trial.

"Mr. Malfoy? I do not believe now is the time to look towards your wife and child. You should have thought of them before you swore your allegiance to the Dark Lord."

He turned his attention to his would-be judges and smoothed his facial features into an expression of remorse. "You see, Mr. Crouch, that is exactly why I did what I have done." He could feel his wife staring at him. He knew she was holding her breath and wondering if he would be like her sister -- if his prejudices and his hatred, his beliefs and his goals were more important to him than anything. Surely she knows me better than that.

Looking into Bartemius Crouch's furious eyes, Lucius Malfoy lied.

"I was under the Imperius Curse. Surely you cannot blame a man for trying to protect his family?" He shook his head. "I barely remember what happened, only that I had no ability to stop what was happening to me. You may assure yourself that I regret my actions most dreadfully."
The courtroom erupted at once. The crowd tittered excitedly, and Crouch's face turned purple. The other judges murmured thoughtfully, and Lucius hid a smile. "You are not seriously attempting to convince this court, Malfoy, that you were under the Imperius Curse the entire time, are you?"

"I am not attempting to convince anyone, Mr. Crouch. I am merely presenting the facts to you. I daresay I merely want my wife and child to know the truth of why I acted the way I did before you let the Dementors have me."

"Mr. Malfoy--" Crouch began angrily, but one of the judges to his left coughed nervously.

"I think we should take a vote," the man squeaked out, his eyes darting about nervously. Crouch stared at him for a few moments, his jaw ticking.

"Very well, Fudge," Crouch bit out. "I shall now take the vote. All of those in favor of sentencing Mr. Lucius Malfoy to Azkaban, please raise your hands."

He did not bother to count the hands as they were raised. Narcissa's bribery had accomplished a fair part of the plan, and his lie had given them a reason to be swayed to his side. Crouch looked as if he had just swallowed a flobberworm when he turned to Luicus.

"It appears you are free to go, Mr. Malfoy. I only hope that you find yourself better guarded against curses in the future." Crouch stood up, nodded jerkily to his fellow judges and stormed out of the room. The guard stepped forward to unbind him, and just like that, he was free.

Shouldering aside the crowd, Narcissa came down the stairs with Draco clasped in her arms. He did not embrace her or his son; it was not their way. He saw the burning, proud look in her eyes, and she nodded once. "Lucius," she said, "let us go home."

He nodded, and they walked out of the courtroom, both of them knowing full well it was not over and that doubtless no one had believed a word of what he'd said. Their family would be reviled and despised -- he had been freed while so many others languished in Azkaban. Those who were captured would hate him for his deceit; those who had fought against him would despise the injustice of his release. For some reason, the Malfoy family motto sprang to his mind, and as they Apparated back to the Manor, he murmured it under his breath, Oderint dum metuant.

Let them hate, provided that they fear.

It was a fitting motto. Lucius Malfoy smiled coldly and tightened his arm around his wife. I shall make sure we live up to it, Father, never you fear.

~Finis~

SOME say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I've tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To know that for destruction ice

Is also great,

And would suffice. -Robert Frost