Mala Fide: In Bad Faith

Mala Fide: In Bad Faith - Chapter 9

Despite the pounding rain, the carriage practically flew home from the Flints'. It was too horrible to be true; she was distraught and had to talk to Lucius - she didn't know why, but she needed to see him. All she was knew was that he could help her cope with the terrible loss of yet another friend.

Ginny struggled to maintain a calm exterior in front of her young children. She didn't want to distress them any further than the scene in Marcus and Millicent's parlor had. All the children, even the seven-year-old, were confused and somewhat scared. The older ones wondered who Snape was, and why he was so important to these grown-ups. Was he one of their daddies, or maybe an uncle? What did Mr. Flint mean, Rhiannon had asked, they had found his body? Her mother, who was crying, shushed her quickly; after a few tearful hugs all around, she gathered her little ones to her and left.

Bursting through the imposing front door of the Malfoy property, she called, "Lucius?" Two startled house-elves ran up to her. Ginny, sounding rather frantic, commanded, "Shilla! Please see to the children; they're still in the carriage. Toddy, where is Master Lucius? I must speak to him at once!"

Toddy looked at her with huge eyes as she moved past him, removing her outer garments and tossing them aside. The elf stammered, "Missus-? Wh-what is Missus doing at home? Missus can't be home now; she should be at Mrs. Flint's house, so the little mistress and master can play--"

Intent on her goal, she cut right to the chase. "Toddy, I need to see Master Lucius. It's extremely important; is he at home or not?"

"Yes. Yes Missus, he is, but Toddy--"

"Oh, to hell with it!" she grumbled. Storming past the befuddled elf, she barked impatiently, "Is he in his study?"

"P-perhaps," the poor creature stuttered. "Would Missus please wait in Master Lucius's study, while Toddy goes to find out?"

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "That doesn't make any sense, Toddy. Please, I need to see him; just tell me where he is!"

Remembering his duty, he gathered his wits about him. He snapped his fingers and produced a glass of brandy for her. "Might Missus enjoy a drink?" he offered congenially.

"No, Missus does not want a drink!" she growled in frustration, knocking the brandy snifter off the engraved silver tray he held. "I want to speak with Lucius, you nit!" It was the first time she had ever lost her temper with a house-elf, and it took Toddy by surprise. The younger Mrs. Malfoy had always been very kind to the servants.

Ginny ran down the hallway toward Lucius's study. Her heart in her throat, she spoke the password and thrust the door open. But the room was dark. The candles looked like they hadn't been lit all day.

That's odd. He said he would have to work this afternoon.

She turned and bolted up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Striding down the hallway with purpose, she was taken aback to see Toddy in front of her once more. He was standing outside Lucius's private chambers and holding up a halting hand, silently ordering that she go no further.

"What is wrong with you, Toddy?"

He laughed, "Wrong, Missus? Why would anything be wrong? Master Lucius is . . he is taking a nap. He does not wish to be disturbed."

The elf began to fidget; Ginny pushed him aside and reached for the door handle. When she touched it, a shock coursed through her hand and up to her arm, the force of it knocking her back. She propped herself up on one elbow then slowly rose to her feet.

The elf stepped back as he apologized. "Toddy is very sorry, Missus, but it was Master's strict orders that if you should come back--"

Suddenly, a low, guttural groan emitted from the room. A few seconds later, a woman's voice moaned loudly. Ginny froze. He was . . making love to a woman. She couldn't imagine who, as almost no one ever visited the manor.

Shunting aside the mild pang of disappointment she felt, she stood there for a minute or two, dumbstruck. Eventually, she snapped out of it and turned to go. But she made it less than ten feet away before she heard the hinges creak; not wanting to be caught spying, yet unable to resist turning back to see who came out, she dove behind a suit of armor.

Seeing herself emerge from Lucius's room, she fainted.

*****

Her other self turned at the sound of the clanging armor. She screamed and began pounding on the door that had just closed behind her. She jiggled the handle desperately; the shocking spell had been removed, but even worse, she was locked out. She begged softly, "Please, please--"

At last, the barrier swung open. Lucius stood there staring at her with narrowed eyes. "Ginevra?" he asked cautiously.

"N-no, sir; it is Nicolette. She is . . " She broke down, unable to continue.

Lucius's steely gray eyes flared. Catching sight of what had unnerved her, he gasped. "Shit!" He ran to Ginny's unconscious body and hovered over her for a moment, his mind racing as he weighed his options. Nicolette had taken another dose of Polyjuice Potion not 15 minutes before, so she would not change back for quite some time. Unsure what to do, she just stood there, crying.

He finally snarled impatiently at the sobbing girl, "Go to your room. I'll take care of this - disaster." When she did not respond immediately, he shouted, "Go! Now!"

Nicolette nodded and ran down the hallway, hot tears spilling over her borrowed ginger lashes. She hated it when she disappointed him, even if it wasn't really her fault. How was she to know that Ginny would be standing right there? Wasn't she supposed to be gone until almost dinner time?

Toddy began giving his master a brief account of what had happened since the young lady had arrived home. Lucius, however, was too distracted to notice and interrupted, "Move her to my room! No, wait - take her to her room, quickly!" Toddy responded immediately, levitating her to her room down the hallway and onto the bed. With a wave of his wand, the wizard was once more dressed in his day clothes. Then he met the little servant in Ginny's room. Once Lucius made sure that she would remain unconscious for several more minutes, he closed the curtains and lit a few candles. Then he sat down in her bedside chair and quietly watched her.

Meanwhile, the house-elf lingered quietly, expecting some form of punishment for failing in his task. But none came. Thinking he might actually escape unscathed, he finally bowed and asked politely, "Is there anything else Master requires of Toddy?"

"No. You may go," he said, mesmerized, his eyes never leaving Ginny's placid face.

The relieved servant wasted no time. Yet when his back was turned, he shuddered when he heard a curse - one of the many he was familiar with - being hissed in his direction. Feeling like a knife had been thrust into his bony spine, Toddy crumpled to his knees. Eventually, Lucius relented; lowering his wand, he sneered through clenched teeth, "Never let that happen again."

"Yes, sir," Toddy murmured. It was a struggle for him to speak at all. Momentarily weakened by the spell, he was unable to leave by use of his own magic, so he stood up and limped away, closing the door behind him. The wizard took no more notice of him.

Instead, he studied Ginny's face; the glow of the candles made her look even more beautiful than her double had as she had lain nude and spread-eagle for him across his satin sheets. Watching her as he was now - lying in her own bed, her auburn tresses spilling delicately over the pillow - he almost convinced himself that it really was her who had spent the last two hours giving herself to him and pleasuring him so completely. And even though Nicolette had satisfied him physically, he could feel that fire building in him once more.

Have patience, he told himself.

As he watched Ginny slowly inhale and exhale in a peaceful rest, he wondered what had upset her. He recalled what he'd read in her hospital file regarding the effects of Tom Riddle's Diary on her psyche. Had she been thinking about it again? Another flashback, perhaps?

He briefly considered delving into her mind to see why she had rushed home so recklessly, despite a bumpy carriage ride through the wind and rain. All Toddy had said was something about her looking horrified, but she hadn't said what was wrong - only that she needed to see his master. She was adamant that she . . see him.

She was starting to need him. A smirk graced his thin lips.

Perfect.

The fire within him flared once more; he could feel the room getting warmer. Gently lifting a few strands of her hair, he rubbed them between his fingers and admired their unique shade. He leaned toward to her then brought more of the silky strands to his face, inhaling their floral scent.

The urge to go further was overwhelming.

He touched her face tenderly then traced her cheek softly with his fingers and palm then rubbed his thumb across the lips he had yearned for. Bending down lower, he touched his lips to hers, kissing her lightly. His tongue faintly tasted of the outer edges of her lips and wished she would open them just a bit more . . Although her eyes were still closed, she unknowingly responded, her mouth opening a fraction of an inch. He pressed his advantage and explored her with slow, languid kisses. Knowing he would have to stop soon, he reluctantly pulled away.

Now for the Memory Charm, he thought. Having her remember that she actually saw herself leaving his room would be more than disastrous.

"Obliviate."

Next he conjured a bowl, rather like a pensieve, only it was empty and not nearly as deep, and it was shaped like a crescent moon. He withdrew a box from the front pocket of his robes and emptied the powdery contents into the bowl. With a flick of his wand, it turned into an amber liquid and started to bubble and release wafts of steam. A layer of fog soon crept around the room.

After waiting five minutes for the brew to settle, he carefully took out what looked like a potion bottle, only the contents were not for drinking. In fact, if the bottle was tipped over, the liquid would stay level and not pour out. He removed the cork and took a long, slender dropper out of his other pocket. He put in three drops in quick succession and waited; then, very slowly and carefully, he added two more drops. After waiting for just over a minute, he repeated the first step. Then he closed the bottle and stowed it and the dropper away.

He murmured the ancient words to the Dreamweaver Charm, which roughly translated to, "Let me visit you in your dreams and shape what you see." The moment he uttered the last word of the charm, the moon-shaped bowl vanished from the table and the fog cleared. Suddenly becoming fully alert, Ginny jumped up with a start.

"Oh, Lucius, thank Merlin you're here!" She grabbed for her wand and Conjured a glass of water. Her mouth tasted odd, like she had been drinking some sort of liquor. She took a long drink; once she Banished the glass, she put one hand on her stomach and the other on her head. "I feel strange. I must have been out longer than I thought."

"Well," he said, "with that nasty spill you took on the rug in the hallway, I'm surprised you don't have a concussion."

She sighed then laughed weakly. "Well, that explains why my backside is killing me. Can you have Nicolette bring me something for it?"

"I'm afraid not. Nicolette has taken the rest of the afternoon off. She had some personal errands to tend do." Ginny nodded. He offered to get one of the elves or other servants to bring her whatever she needed, but she didn't say anything more about it.

Lucius asked her, "Did something happen? Toddy said you looked a bit agitated when you came home."

"Oh, Lucius - it's terrible." Her lip was trembling as if she were fighting to hold back the tears. "Snape . . He-he's dead." Like a dam had burst, she began to cry.

"No," he breathed. His eyes fell shut as his face contorted in pain. "Are you sure?" When she nodded again, he asked her, "How did it happen? I mean, how did you hear of it?"

"Marcus Flint told us. He and a few of his men found the body of a wizard in his 40's. A few routine tests, and they were certain it was him. Marcus was very upset."

"They found him? Where did they find him? What do they think happened to him?" he asked, greatly concerned. He and Severus had been friends for many years.

Her tears finally abating, Ginny looked up at him vacantly. "W-what?"

"I asked you, what do they think happened to him? Was it a curse, was he strangled - was he ill?"

"Marcus wasn't at liberty to say," she replied flatly. "They may have an inquest and a . . a hearing, so he couldn't--"

She paused again and wiped her face and nose. "I'm frightened, Lucius," she whispered.

He gave her a puzzled look and asked her, "Why?"

"Well . . Severus had been here. The manor had become one of the places he frequented." She could see in his eyes that he didn't quite catch her meaning, so she tried to elaborate.

"He visited here often, while you were - away. Then shortly after you came back, his visits just stopped. There may have been one or two more owls, but then, nothing. Narcissa and I both feared that something bad had happened to him. He was such a dear friend to both of us, but I-I've never heard from him since, not even when Narcissa died. It was just . . so strange."

Closing her eyes, she put a hand to her forehead and said with finality, "And I certainly don't want to talk to Aurors in any official capacity - least of all, that smug little prick, Edmund Goodspeak."

Lucius took her hand and patted it gently, saying, "But my dear, even if you are asked to go in for questioning, or are called to testify, why should you be afraid? Surely, you know nothing about it, so why should it trouble you?"

"I just don't feel like talking with them; I don't trust them," she said, looking sullen.

"But you trust Marcus Flint?" he asked dryly.

"That's different. His wife and I are friends. Besides, I - he wasn't in that department back . . back then."

He raised one eyebrow. "So that's what this suspicion is all about. Don't worry; if you're called in, I'll go along with you, for moral support," he said, giving her his most charming smile.

Relieved to hear that she wouldn't have to go through this alone, she sighed and smiled back at him. They talked for a few more minutes until Ginny, utterly exhausted, hung her head. It wasn't even dark outside, but she felt completely drained. "I'm sorry, Lucius; I'm dreadfully tired. Would you mind if I forgo joining the family for dinner, just this once?"

"No, not at all," he assured her as he stood up and straightened his chair. "I'll have the nanny look after the children for the rest of the day, and I'll see them off to bed myself. I have a feeling that Rhiannon is bursting to tell her grandpa all about her day with her little friends."

She smiled again. "I'm sure you're right. Good night, Lucius."

He bent down and kissed her chastely on the forehead. "Good night, sweetheart. Pleasant dreams." Then he went to have dinner with the children.

*****

It proved to be one of the most peculiar nights Ginny could ever remember having. Dreams the likes of which she had not had in ages . . . visions of herself locked in a passionate embrace with Draco; he loved her as if he were starving for her, as if he couldn't get enough of her.

It had been so long, so terribly long, that she had nearly forgotten the sensations he was making her feel. When he touched her in a certain way, all at once, her passion stirred, then ebbed only to rise again, taking her to even more dizzying heights. It felt so . . incredibly real, as if he was actually joined with her once more, even though she knew that never could be. She longed to savor it, make the dream last, delay her waking as long as possible, and then treasure it until time took it away from her.

What made the dream so amazing was that it seemed to have no end. Normally, a really good dream, the kind that a dreamer wishes would never end, always does so, and far too abruptly, only to be forgotten except for tiny strands of images which fade shortly after waking. Trying to recall the dream later then becomes rather like chasing after a fairy that has gone into a deep field thick with wild flowers that the dreamer cannot see through or over.

But this was no ordinary dream.

Instead of moving to completely new settings with different people, it stayed focused on the lovers. The dream only shifted to other, more intimate scenes of them - and the later it got, the less clothes and more groping there was. She thought he looked different in miniscule ways; his hair had grown slightly longer and his features more distinguished, his lines more prominent.

But the strangest part was that his kisses tasted mildly of brandy, reminding her of Harry's on that fateful night, nearly two years ago - even in her dream, the memories of it made her shudder. When Draco had held her even closer, the simple gesture made her forget everything else. And although they never actually did anything more than stroke and caress each other, Ginny felt incredibly aroused the entire time.

Awakening slowly, she eased out of the dream, hoping it would not be lost into slender glimpses of imaginings that she could not possibly hope to grasp at or recall in a few short minutes. But the dream had been so powerful, its images so sharp, that they did not slip away just yet. She took a moment to relish in its pleasures, trying to relive the intense climax she was certain she'd had. She didn't know if such a thing was possible for women, but judging by the dampness of her knickers - well, apparently, it was. An involuntary smile flitted across her face.

Ginny desperately wished she had a pensieve to store these precious memories. True, she could pick one up when she went to Diagon Alley later in the week - she had to get some party supplies for next week - but until then, she decided she should jot everything down that she could remember . . every detail, every smell and taste . . . before she lost even a moment of the magic.

Not sure where either of her diaries were, she Summoned some parchment from the top of her cluttered desk and then furiously began scribbling down the entire dream, from start to finish, so that not one detail was left out. As the sun came up over the horizon and into her window, she set down her quill and gazed at the words. Reading it made her skin tingle all over.

There was one small thing that didn't quite fit, but she chose to ignore it: Draco had never drunk brandy in his life.

*****

When Brian arrived at Saint Mungo's the following Monday morning, there was a message waiting for him at his receptionist's desk. It was from Stella, and it said yes, he could come to her flat after work on Thursday. She would be happy to offer him dinner and help him research a case, one that had him completely baffled. He knew she had a vast wealth of knowledge that he would have almost no access to - and even if he did, he would have no idea how to find it.

Trying to be flirtatious, Nadine bent over her desk, batted her lashes at him, and cooed, "Good morning, Brian." She wore a rather revealing peach sweater made of cashmere. Even though it was nice and very expensive, he barely noticed it, or the ample cleavage she had hoped the new garment would bring to his attention. His nose glued to the chart in his hand, he grunted in place of an actual greeting then shut himself in his office. She gritted her teeth in frustration; would he ever notice her? And this sweater had not come cheap!

Disappointed by his lack of response, she slammed her desk drawer shut and decided to get started on that bloody filing she absolutely despised doing. If she was going to be miffed all morning, she might as well be doing something productive. With filing, there was also added benefit of slamming cabinet drawers shut with a flourish, muffling or disguising the sound if needed. At least that way, he would know she was angry.

Maybe.

Nadine took her wand and quickly gathered all the files from around her office that had not made their way back into the drawers. She was surprised to see that there were at least 50 or 60 of them. Wondering how she'd let that happen - and how it was that Brian had not rebuked her for it - she scoffed. What is wrong with him? she sniffed to herself. Is the man gay or just blind?

She began her filing, shutting the drawers as noisily as she dared, yet holding back somewhat, for fear of looking like a petulant child.

Or does he have his head so far up Ginny Malfoy's arse that he doesn't even notice I have one?! And a rather cute one, at that! He's like a ruddy dog in heat when she comes around . . .

The irritated receptionist suddenly noticed that the file she had in her hands was none other than Ginny's. She clicked her tongue. "I mean, what's so special about her?" she said aloud, turning the file over. "Cor, her file must be three inches thick. Of course, I would know; that copying spell took longer than any other I've had to do since I got here--"

"Nadine?" Brian called, sticking his head out his door. She swallowed, wondering nervously how much of her grumbling he had heard, and whether she had said most of it inside her head or if she had actually vocalized it.

"Yes?" she answered, slightly nervous.

"Have you seen Mrs. Malfoy's file? I thought I saw it just the other day, but now I can't find it."

"As a matter of fact, I was just about to put it away. I had it out a few days ago, to copy it for her father-in-law; remember when he dropped by the office?"

Brian, feeling a bit lost, shook his head. "What? Her father-in-law?" On seeing the size of the file she was holding out to him, he caught her meaning. "Oh - oh no, I don't mean Ginny's file; I meant Narcissa's."

"Oh. Okay." Nadine's cheeks reddened at her faux pas. She quickly pulled the late Mrs. Malfoy's file and handed it to him, taking the other one back and stowing it away.

He thanked her then said, "Nadine - that's a very pretty sweater. Is it new?"

Blushing once more, she smiled and giggled. "Yes, Brian, it is. Do you like it?"

He nodded and gave her a lop-sided grin as his eyes drifted down her front appreciatively. "It's very nice." The healer started to walk back into his own office when something she'd said struck him. "Did you say . . you had copied that file for Mr. Malfoy?"

Not sure what he was getting at, Nadine started to take a rather defiant stance. "Well, you did ask me to," she said with a soft laugh.

His eyes drew wide, and his mouth dropped open.

"Nadine," he began slowly, "I meant for you to copy Narcissa's file. His late wife. What you gave him - th-that's confidential hospital information. He had no right to anything in Ginny's file. Much of that was from her childhood."

Her breath caught in her throat. "But you said . . " Her voice trailed off.

"I said Mrs. Malfoy; I only assumed you knew which one. I mean, God's sake, why would he be interested in seeing her file--"

His hand loosened on Narcissa's file, and parchment scattered to all corners of the office. Ignoring the mess, he rushed back to his office and shut the door. As he did, Nadine pleaded with him, "I'm sorry, Brian! Please don't fire me - it was an honest mistake!"

Brian felt a quick note to Ginny was in order. She had to know that all might not be well at the manor. But he was leery of sending a traditional delivery, as incoming owls were sometimes screened. And obviously, he couldn't give it to Lucius.

Stepping out of his office once more, he apologized. "Nadine, I-I'm sorry I was cross with you."

"S'all right," she replied, looking away and pretending to concentrate on her filing so he wouldn't notice her tear-stained cheeks.

"Look, I, er - was just wondering . . . if you knew of anyone who is a friend of Ginny's that I could trust to deliver a private note to her?"

"Isn't she friends with your cousin?"

He bit his lip. "Well, I suppose I could . . but I won't be seeing her for three more days, and owls . . sort of, uh, freak her out. This is rather urgent."

"I'm sorry, I don't know anyone else," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

Then he remembered Frank and Alice Longbottom. Their son still came to visit them, after all these years, every single Tuesday.

Brian decided to visit the Closed Ward tomorrow afternoon.

"That's all right, Nadine."

He started to go but then stopped and assured her, "Don't worry, you won't get sacked. I'll work it out with Ginny. I . . I think she'll be okay with it. She doesn't seem to have any animosity toward Lucius."

At least not yet, he hoped secretly.

*****

The weather that afternoon turned out to be very fine. Lucius got home early, so he and Ginny took the opportunity to enjoy a leisurely horseback ride. As they went along, they discussed whether they should hire a tutor for Rhiannon next year or send her to a school like the one Pansy worked for, what Ginny planned to get the children for Christmas, and if the family should take a small trip at New Years.

When their conversation had reached a natural lull, the unlikely pair rode on through the deepening woods in comfortable silence. The lower branches of the surrounding trees eventually formed a bowing arch. To avoid their robes getting caught on them, Lucius and Ginny rode very close together.

At length, he broke the silence. "So, is everything ready for the big wedding? It's less than two weeks away now."

All that remained, she said, was the fitting of the wedding party's robes and the rehearsal. "And, of course, the Hen Night."

"Oh, so the men are having a Stag Night, and the ladies want their own night on the town?"

"Actually," Ginny corrected, "we decided it would be better if we had it at one of the ladies' homes."

Lucius agreed that it would be safer and graciously offered them the use of the manor for their party. Surprised, she smiled at his thoughtfulness. "Oh, would you, Lucius? That would be wonderful!"

Just then, Ginny had to duck her head and lean toward him to steer clear of a low-lying branch; as she did, she reached across the small distance between them and patted his hand then squeezed it affectionately. He turned his hand over to return the gesture, only instead of letting go, he held on. Her heart skipped a beat; she didn't let go, either. He wove his fingers through hers. Moving slowly along the well-defined path, her hand felt more comfortable in his. Soon, she felt . . peaceful.

She asked out of the blue, "Has anyone at the office said anything about Snape?"

"Not much, no," he replied. "Of course, they won't be having his funeral for a while, since there will be a post-mortem examination to determine cause of death."

"I guess that makes the most sense," she murmured as they continued on their stroll. "Still, it was all so sad. I'm sure the students who had been in Slytherin when he was Head of House were very disheartened on hearing the news."

"Naturally. Someone said that Marcus was almost useless in his job today. And if he can't stay focused on his task, then he is better off not coming into work at all."

"Maybe he feels an obligation to the man," Ginny surmised with a shrug. "Perhaps he thinks that by capturing his killer quickly, he can put it all behind him and say to Snape that he did his best."

At this, he pulled on the reins; stopping abruptly, he finally released her hand. He turned so he could look at her full on. "So it wasn't death by natural causes?" he asked, his silvery eyes narrowing. "I thought Marcus didn't say. Or was it that he couldn't say?"

Rolling her eyes, she sighed. "Well, he said he wasn't supposed to say, but . . he did."

"And what do they think happened to him?"

She hesitated at first but eventually relented. "They think he may have been - beaten to death."

"Really," he marveled. "Do they suspect it was . . a random killing?"

"I don't know. It may have been some sort of revenge. Marcus didn't say." Suddenly, she started to feel a bit queasy and rubbed her eyes. "I think I'd best go back to the house to lie down before dinner. My head is really starting to pound."

They returned the horses to the stables and went back to the manor. Ginny looked at him then gave him a brief hug; he gently kissed her hand and she excused herself. As she ascended the stairs, Lucius watched her intently until she was out of sight.

So they think Snape might have been beaten? Interesting.

He walked down the hallway and snickered to himself. Yes, well, I can see where being Stunned, bound, and then dropped in a well several times might give that impression.