Mala Fide: In Bad Faith

Mala Fide: In Bad Faith - Chapter 13

"Molly, we're here!"

Hermione arrived at the Burrow the following day long before dawn, her two sleepy-headed daughters in tow. The young girls, their eyes barely open, stumbled toward the kitchen. Not even the aroma of Mrs. Weasley's wonderful cinnamon raisin bread that was baking could rouse them.

"Good morning, girls," their surrogate grandmother greeted them as they walked into her kitchen. When Jamie and Lily mumbled their 'hullos', neither of them took particular notice that the red-haired witch didn't sound quite as cheerful as she usually did.

Their mother, however, could not miss it.

"Girls," she suggested, "why don't you go up to the empty room on the third landing and get a little more rest? You both seem very tired."

"Can't we play with Jocee and Artie first?" Lily asked hopefully as she fought down a yawn.

The older witch said, "I'm sorry, dears, but they're not here yet. I expect Katie will drop them off around 8:00. You might as well rest now, as your mother suggested." She could see the disappointment on their faces but said nothing more; instead, she gave Hermione a strange, sad little grimace, the meaning of which wasn't readily clear.

Concerned by her friend's demeanor, the young mother swiftly took charge. "Go upstairs and go to sleep. Now." The youngsters knew their mum was in no mood to be trifled with; they did as they were told and scurried up the crooked staircase. Once the door to Ginny's old room was closed, Hermione turned to face the table and found Molly in tears.

"What's wrong?" she asked her.

Of course, she knew what was wrong. It was that scandalous article. Hermione had wondered what effect Rita Skeeter's painful barbs would have on the Weasley household. As she sat helplessly watching her, another thought crossed her mind.

Why wasn't she preparing to do battle with the Daily Prophet over those vicious lies? Or was she just too humiliated to even try?

"Molly?" Hermione asked softly.

The red-haired witch sniffed as she wiped the tears that were leaking from her eyes. They were so like Ginny's. How many times had Hermione seen Ginny in this state? How often had she comforted her, either because Harry had once again ignored her or had favored Cho instead, no matter how hard she tried? It gave her an eerie sense of déjà vu.

Interrupting her thoughts, the matriarch replied in a shaky voice, "I'm sure you saw that - damn article." She gulped as a few more tears streamed down her face. Hermione reached out and patted her hand.

"It was pretty horrid. My jaw just dropped."

"You have no idea the absolute havoc it's wreaked on our lives during the past 24 hours!"

She felt awful and could only sympathize. "I can imagine; I'm so sorry I couldn't be here. The girls and I were at my parents' house all day. Was it completely awful?"

Molly scoffed. "To say the least! You know how hot-tempered the boys are. Some of them were condemning Ginny, others accusing Rita of libel . . . You can guess what kind of diabolical plans the twins had for that so-called reporter! If only--"

She couldn't go on, as if the words had become lodged in her throat. At length, Hermione prompted her as gently as possible, "If only what, Molly?"

Her lip began to quiver slightly. Finally, she blurted out, "If only it weren't true!" then broke into sobs.

"It-it can't be. It's completely ridiculous! You know Rita; she'd sell her children's souls to turn a paper--"

"But it is true. Mostly," she replied, taking a quick sip of her tea.

Astounded, Hermione shook her head. "How can you be sure?"

"Years ago, when Bill was still in Egypt, he learned a Fact Detection Charm. He picked it up from a German wizard who was living there at the time. It only works on printed material - handwritten documents are much harder to verify - but it can prove something up to 99.8% accurate. And that article had a 96% rate of being truthful."

Not daring to believe it, Hermione hesitated before going on. "Which means what, exactly?"

Molly sighed heavily. "Although the facts might have been embellished, there are facts within it. Rita made up very few of those, if any."

The brunette witch simply couldn't believe it. The very idea that Ginny and Lucius Malfoy were involved in some sort of romantic relationship . . . it was just unthinkable! Why would a pretty, vibrant young woman with so much heart even consider such a man - a man of questionable ethics, at best - to fall in love with? It boggled the mind.

Then it hit her. Was there a possible loophole in the Charm's abilities? "Wait a minute. Does that mean the article itself is true, or the person who wrote believes it to be true?"

But the look on her careworn face said everything Hermione needed to hear. With a sad smile on her face, she offered, "Do you want to . . . talk about what happened yesterday?"

She swiped her eyes once more. "It was so awful," she said in barely a whisper, "I don't know if I can."

"Molly," the former Head Girl insisted, "talking about it can help. Even if it doesn't change things, it might make you feel better."

She took a sudden, swift breath, and Hermione thought she might actually concede; knowing the woman's temper, she braced herself for the worst.

Instead, she simply said, "No, that's all right. You need to be getting on to work, my dear. Madam Pince needs your help."

They both stood up and hugged each other tightly. "What time will you be done working?"

"Oh, I don't know. Perhaps 5:30 or so."

"You're welcome to join us for supper. We'd love to have you. I think Fred will be here - and most likely, Ron as well."

"That sounds wonderful."

A chicken was already simmering on the stove in preparation for their evening meal. The smell of it was inviting. Hermione instantly regretted her decision to have only had toast and orange juice for breakfast.

Mrs. Weasley gave her another nervous smile as they started to leave the kitchen.

She looked back for one last hug goodbye; suddenly, something on her peripheral vision caught her eye - something was amiss, but she couldn't immediately place what it was. Then she saw it clearly.

The clock. It was . . .

In a shaky voice, she asked, "Molly, what's happened to Ginny's hand on the Weasley clock? Is-is she all right?"

Finally, the floodgates burst open, and Mrs. Weasley flung herself at her, her thinly veiled reserve completely torn down. Hermione was startled to see the normally confident witch break into full-fledged sobs. Holding her so she wouldn't fall, she tried to calm her down, but to no avail. She hadn't seen her like this since Percy's funeral.

"Oh, Hermione," she gasped, "it's horrible! Just when . . . just when our darling baby girl, our Ginevra, needs our protection more than ever--"

It seemed like she would never stop wailing; Hermione rocked her like a child and spoke to her gently. At last, the matronly witch managed to say what had her so distraught.

"When Arthur found out she was with h-him, he was so enraged that he . . . he tore it off the clock yesterday! And now - now we'll never know what happens to her - or if something already has!"

* * * * *

By the time Hermione finally got to the Hogwarts Library, Madam Pince was quite worried. "I wondered if you were having trouble getting in the gates. Wasn't Hagrid there to meet you?" she asked frantically.

"Yes, Madam Pince, he was. Sorry I'm late, but I got caught up at the sitter's house. Please forgive me," she added with a look of contrition.

But that wasn't the whole truth. In fact, Hagrid had secretly lent her a key to the front gates one day last week. Not knowing what time she would arrive, and because he had animals to care for, she'd asked if she could borrow one. "Temporarily, of course." He was a bit apprehensive at first. But when she suggested that it be Charmed to work only for the next four weeks, require a password, and expire when Luna returned from her honeymoon, he handed it to her gladly with a smile on his face.

"Anything for you, 'Ermione," he had replied in his gruff but loving voice. After all, the dear girl had once helped save Buckbeak's life, had helped his half-brother, Grawp - not to mention she was Harry's widow. How could he ever say no to her?

Her tardiness soon forgotten, the librarian elaborated on the tasks she would be performing. "You are primarily here to help re-shelve items and to assist students in finding materials that would be helpful in their studies or for a particular essay." Within moments, she was aiding a group of second years in locating books on poison antidotes for a potions essay.

The work was easy; she took to it like a mermaid to water, and the rest of the morning flew by. At around 11:30, she was delighted to hear a familiar voice lilting through the air.

"Hello, Mrs. Potter!"

"Good morning, Professor McGonagall," her former protégé replied warmly. "It's nice to see you."

"Likewise, my dear. Are you enjoying working here?"

"Yes, I love it. I know it all so well, it's like second nature. But it does feel a lot different being on this side of the table. There are so many memories here."

Gazing over her spectacles, Minerva smiled at her kindly. "Good ones, I hope?"

"Mostly," came the nondescript reply.

Her old teacher caught her meaning and smiled resignedly. Then she asked, "You are planning to come down to the Great Hall for lunch, aren't you, Hermione?"

"Now that you mention it, I am rather hungry. Well - starving, actually."

"Come on, then! Lunch will be on the tables soon. Irma, you are welcome to join us, of course," she added as an aside to the librarian.

The woman blinked like an owl, looking at Minerva as if she had taken complete leave of her senses for even mentioning such a ludicrous idea. "What?! And leave all these books unattended?"

The deputy headmistress looked at Hermione and rolled her eyes.

"Irma - they'll be fine," she said with a rather annoyed sigh.

It had never really occurred to Hermione before, but she couldn't ever recall seeing Madam Pince at a meal in the Great Hall. "So you don't just - lock up the library and leave?"

She gasped in response as her hand flew reflexively to the frilly neckline of her robes. "With so many crafty little witches and wizards lurking about? Never! I always eat here. You two go on by yourselves."

Her coworker shrugged. "Suit yourself, then. Are you ready, Hermione?" Sharing an amused smile, the two of them left the library, eager to catch up on news from each other's lives.

At first, they discussed staffing changes, old classes that had been dropped, and of course, Harry and Hermione's precious little daughters. As the old friends walked down the corridor, the younger one made a rather bold suggestion. "Professor McGonagall, I hate to ask, but . . . I really need to talk with you. Privately. Could we please have lunch in your office?"

"Yes, if you like. I'll make us some sandwiches, and you can fix up the tea."

"Thank you, Professor. I hate to be so much trouble."

"No trouble at all, my dear. I can always make time for you. And Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"I'm not your teacher or Head of House anymore. Please, call me Minerva."

In no time, they were dining on cold roast beef sandwiches and enjoying a comfortable exchange about Hermione's life since she left Hogwarts. When she began talking about her children, Professor McGonagall asked if they were staying at her parents' while she was working.

"No, they're with Molly Weasley." It was a sharp reminder of the unsettling encounter she'd had with Ron's mother earlier that morning. "Speaking of the Weasleys, were you simply aghast at that hurtful article in the Daily Prophet over the weekend?"

Her companion sneered. "The one written by that wretched Rita Skeeter, implying that Ginny might possibly marry her late husband's father? What utter rubbish! Someone ought to take that woman's quill and shove it--"

"Well, actually . . . it looks like there may be grains of truth to it." Seeing her mouth fall open, Mrs. Potter explained about the Fact Detection Charm and how it charm worked.

"Are you serious?! Ginevra Weasley and--"

Her emotions running very high, Hermione couldn't stop herself from interrupting. "I know! It's incredible. First, she chose Draco, and now - his loathsome, detestable father! If it is true, then the way she acted at Luna's Hen Night and at the wedding the next day . . . Do you think she's under the Imperius?"

"She must be! But it's always so hard to prove. About the only way is Veritaserum in a controlled environment. And then, there are Memory Charms and the like - all sorts of ways to hide illicit acts. Besides, I wonder if Ginny isn't strong enough to fight Imperius."

"She's not," Hermione said flatly.

"How can you be sure? I mean, it is very rare not be affected by it, but still, it's not impossible."

"But the att--"

She paused momentarily then started again. "The attack on her. Remember? The night we lost Harry? It was how - whoever he was - was able to . . . m-manipulate her and commit the atrocities he did."

She couldn't even say it without practically bursting into tears. Regardless of their feud, she still felt like Ginny was the sister she never had; they had been close for years. She felt sad for her old friend, and for herself, and the way things had turned out, sad that they couldn't grieve together and support one another, as they should have - as they would have, were the circumstances different.

"Hermione," her old professor said, breaking into her private thoughts. "Is there something else you want to talk about?"

"I was wondering about Professor Snape's funeral. Do you think Madam Pince would - allow me some time off Wednesday morning so I can go to it?"

"Of course, you can go. Most the faculty and staff will be there, so the students will have the morning off." She added with a slight smirk, "And much to Irma's chagrin, the library will be closed." Despite the rather somber mood, they shared a soft chuckle then turned to their dessert.

"It's all so tragic," Hermione remarked. "I heard one rumor that they suspect a Muggle attacked him."

"Oh, that's highly unlikely. Just the typical anti-Muggle sentiment that the Purebloods espouse."

"That's what I thought, too. Rumor has it there were no bullets, no rope, no evidence of any Muggle weapons at all. Do they have any leads in the case?"

"Not as far as I know. According to Mad-Eye Moody, Marcus Flint's been assigned to it. Given his loyalty to Slytherin House, it shouldn't take him long to build up a list of suspects."

They finished the last of their pudding then cleared off their eating space. Hermione rose to her feet and dusted the crumbs off her robes. "Thank you, Professor McGonagall - I mean, Minerva. I'm sure I'll see you around over the next few weeks."

"Not at all. It was my pleasure."

The younger witch started to go, then doubled-back halfway out the door. "You know, maybe there is something else you can help me with."

"I'll try, my dear. What is it?"

"Do you know someone named Brian? A former student, perhaps?"

"Brian who?"

"That's just it - I don't know. He seems to be a mutual friend of Ginny and Neville's, but for the life of me, I can't think who he might be."

Professor McGonagall was puzzled by her question. "If you don't even know who he is, then why is he so important?"

"Just as the Longbottoms were leaving for their honeymoon, Neville told Ginny that he had a letter for her from Brian and that he was sorry he'd forgotten to give it to her. She acted like it was no matter and that she would get it when he got back, but for whatever reason, he seemed rather distressed by this. I just thought that letter might be very important."

"But if it was, wouldn't he have stopped to give it to her?"

"I think he meant to, but he didn't have it with him. And with all the excitement of the day, and the other boys teasing him about - well, you know, being married and still being a 'virgin' - before he had time to give it another thought, he and Luna were riding off in their carriage. At least, that's how I saw it."

Minerva looked at her thoughtfully. "Brian, you say? He knows both of them, but you don't know him? Well, there has to be some connection."

Hermione nodded and smirked. "But what?"

"I wish I knew. I'm sorry, but I don't."

As she opened the door once more, the professor reminded her encouragingly, "Hermione, you are very bright. Fortunately for me, the Sorting Hat saw your bravery as well as your brilliance, and I was lucky to have you in Gryffindor. Don't worry; you'll find him." Then the two parted company.

Hermione muttered to herself as she walked back toward the library, "I only hope I'm in time."

* * * * *

At Severus Snape's funeral, Ginny looked around the room. She had never seen so many Slytherins in one place, except perhaps during her Quidditch career at Hogwarts. It was a time when she had thought that all Slytherins were evil, conniving, and snotty. In fact, back then, if someone had said to her that one day she would be sitting among them - blending in with them, even - she would have laughed in their face. She could never have imagined that she would willingly attend Snape's funeral and that she would actually feel something other than a sense of relief that the hateful old bastard was gone.

But that was exactly the case. A few moments earlier, she had hugged and consoled a sobbing Pansy Parkinson. When a somber Vincent Crabbe took his girlfriend's small, shaking hand and guided her toward a seat, Ginny was taken aback by his kindness. They had all lost a dear friend, and she too felt their loss.

Of course, there were several Gryffindors seated across the aisle. Her parents, were there, along with a few of her brothers. Hermione and a smattering of their former housemates had also come to say goodbye to the man they had once reviled but later learned to respect and perhaps admire. She tried not to cry, to remain stalwart, determined not to let her old friends see her as weak or defeated. Not many of them knew the sacrifices Professor Snape had made to protect Harry, a young wizard whose arrogance he found unbearable and often resented. Regardless of how much she herself hated Harry, she felt a twinge of remorse - no, regret - that in the end, Snape's efforts had all been for naught. Ginny clung to Lucius and nestled in the crook of his arm - the one that, ironically, bore the ghastly mark that haunted her about his past. When he turned and kissed her hairline tenderly, she faced the other side defiantly.

It was a moment of clarity for her: These were her people now.

Staring blankly into a sea of orange, she saw her mother looking back at her - her eyes were tired as she locked her gaze on her daughter. Tears flowed steadily down her softly-lined face; Ginny wondered whether she was mourning for the man in the casket or for her.

Arthur wouldn't even look at her. His cheeks were flushed, and the way he was twisting his mouth . . . he was rarely angry, but when he was, he was worse at Ron than hiding it. He was furious.

As soon as the eulogy was over, Ginny excused herself, walked directly to the loo, and locked the door. Casting a Silencing Charm, she began to cry loudly. She had fought to keep it in, but in the end, it seemed she couldn't help herself. She told herself resolutely that she was crying for Severus, and she was . . . at least, in part. Loath as she was to admit it, it was painfully obvious that she was crying for the same reason her mother was - and that her father wouldn't acknowledge her presence with even a passing glance.

She stiffened slightly then, taking her wand, cast a Recovery Charm that hid the remaining traces of her crying and sniffling. When she found Lucius in the hall, she latched onto his arm and said firmly, "Let's go." They hurried out the door and walked toward the Apparition point. As they did, a familiar voice called after them.

"Ginny! Mrs. Malfoy! Please, wait . . . Lucius, stop her!"

It was Marcus Flint. He was panting as he ran to catch them up. "Hullo, Ginny," he said, still slightly out of breath.

"Marcus," she acknowledged him rather curtly.

Lucius wrapped his arm around her shoulder protectively, almost possessively, and said, "What is this all about, Flint? Ginevra has had a very trying morning. Please, just state your business so we can leave."

The younger wizard cleared his throat before answering.

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy. I just wanted to see if she, er, might be able to answer some questions about - well, about what might have happened to Professor Snape. I've been assigned to head up the investigation, and with her being one of the last to see him alive, I just thought--"

"You thought what? That you would harass her at his funeral?" Lucius said with a cold sneer. "Severus was not only my friend, but Ginevra's and my late wife's as well. Have you no sense of decency? Can't you just leave her alone for a few days?"

As he went on, Marcus's face grew paler until Ginny finally spoke.

"No, Lucius, it's all right. I can answer some questions. I'd like to help. But can we do it at another time - tomorrow, perhaps, or Friday? I can come down to your office--"

"No. She needs a few days." Lucius ordered, "Come to the Manor on Saturday afternoon for tea, four o'clock. I want to be there, in case she needs my support."

She smiled at him demurely, grateful for the offer. "Thank you," she whispered as she softly touched his face. For the briefest of seconds, he smiled back. The exchange made Marcus Flint feel rather uncomfortable. He looked away and cleared his throat once more.

"Yes. A few days of mourning for a man so great does seem in order. Well, then . . . I'll come to visit this weekend. Goodbye." He left to rejoin Millicent and assist her into their carriage. Soon after the Flints drove off, Ginny and Lucius Apparated together; once they had vanished, several pairs of eyes, ranging in emotion from sad to angry, were riveted to the spot they had last stood.

* * * * *

"It's just not right. We've got to do something," George started in once more.

"I know, but what? She's a grown woman; she can make her own choices, however bad they may be."

"True, but she needs our help, Fred - now more than ever."

"More than when she was lying there, near death, in the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Oh, shut it, Ron!"

Such was the conversation on the way home in the Weasley's flying Ford Anglia. After being in residence in the Forbidden Forest for five years, Hagrid had finally managed to subdue the car and get it back to the rightful owner. The half-giant was only too happy to share the story of how he did it with anyone who would listen. Mr. Weasley was forever in his debt.

The bickering continued as they neared their home at Ottery St. Catchpole. Molly felt utterly exhausted. She had just about had enough of the discussion between her three youngest sons and their friend Hermione but felt too wretched to say anything to stop their banter. Her stomach was in knots. If only her daughter's name were still on the clock . . . but if it was, would the hand be pointing toward 'Mortal Peril' again?

Meanwhile, Arthur's fingers were wrenching tightly around the steering wheel, as if it were Lucius Malfoy's neck. Hermione thought he seemed intent on strangling it with his bare hands. She was slightly unnerved by the sight.

"Mr. Weasley?" she spoke hesitantly, ignoring the arguments that were by now spewing all around her. "Are you all right, sir?"

"Wha-?" It was like he had been in a trance and was awakened abruptly. "I'm sorry, Hermione, what did you say?" he asked, sounding tense and not at all like his normal, cheerful self.

It was dreadful, seeing two people she loved so much in such a state. She didn't know what to think, except that George was right: they had to do something to help Ginny.

Her choices were tearing her family apart.

* * * * *

As agreed, Marcus Flint arrived in time for tea that Saturday afternoon. He gave his cloak to Toddy, was shown into the parlor, and helped himself to tea and a biscuit. At first, he and Mrs. Malfoy made small talk, mostly about Millicent and the children. When he mentioned that Pansy and Vincent were going to a gardening show in Provence this weekend, she was pleasantly surprised.

"I'm glad things are going so well for them."

He shrugged his shoulders. "I guess so. They do seem to be fond of each other, and I think he's looking to settle down. You know, to give the boys some stability. She's great with them."

Just then, Lucius entered the room. Marcus stood and extended his hand. "Good afternoon, sir."

"Hello, Marcus. Glad you could join us. What have I missed?"

"Nothing, sir. We were just talking about Vincent Crabbe and Pansy Parkinson. They seem to be getting pretty close these days."

Mr. Malfoy stirred his tea as he observed, "Yes, I understand they have been seen together quite a bit recently. Perhaps there will be another wedding announcement soon." As he said this, he raised his cup to his lips; looking over the brim at his young lover, he locked his eyes on hers, causing her cheeks to color just slightly. She turned to Marcus.

"You wanted to speak to me about Severus. What do you want to know?" Ginny asked, her tone rather abrupt. The detective noticed the sharp change and briefly wondered if anything was wrong.

He cleared his throat, withdrew a pad of parchment and quill, and dipped it once into his unspillable ink pot. "Yes. I promise to be brief." He coughed once more then began his inquiry.

"Mrs. Malfoy, when did you last see Severus Snape alive, to the best of your recollection?" After he said this, he studied her intently, as if he was trying to pry the answers out of her by sheer will. Lucius found his mannerisms most amusing.

"Let me think, now. It would have been about . . . what day did you return home, dear?" she asked Lucius. They never mentioned his release, as such; it was always as if he had been away on a long vacation.

"Well, I don't recall the exact day. Sometime in late March last year, I believe."

She paused and furrowed her eyebrows. "Was it that late? I thought it was in February or very early in March." She lowered her voice and half-whispered to him, "Don't you remember the day Draco was killed? March fifth? And since we'd had plans for dinner with the Parkinsons the following Friday night to celebrate your return home - how we all went, in spite of everything?"

"Oh, you're right. I remember now. It was a bit earlier than that. Go on, my dear."

Turning her focus back to the investigation, she said decidedly, "To the best of my recollection, I would have to say the latter part of February last year. Narcissa and I always laughed a great deal when Severus was about. He always had us in stitches."

"I see," Marcus replied vaguely, his eyes never leaving his parchment as he scribbled rapidly with the quill. "And did he mention to you that he might be going somewhere or doing anything special over the next fortnight?"

"No. In fact, he said he would come to the Manor as soon as he could. Frankly, we were very surprised that we didn't get an owl from him by the end of March. We were both worried about him, my mother-in-law especially. She wrote to him, but both of her letters were returned unopened, presumably undeliverable, or maybe he . . . " She paused.

"Yes?" Marcus prompted.

Then she said with a wistful smile, "Well, I rather wondered that since her husband had returned, perhaps Severus thought he might be in the way so he stopped visiting. Still, we both thought it strange. Why would he refuse Narcissa's letters coldly?"

"She had written to him? And you both expected him to return?"

"Of course, we did," she replied with a soft snort. "He and Lucius had known each other for years. Naturally, we thought he might drop by soon after Mr. Malfoy returned home."

"But he didn't visit you again. Is that right?"

Growing weary of this line of questioning, Ginny snipped at him. "No. He didn't. Look, I've told you all I know. He and Narcissa were close, he was a good friend of mine, and we did not see him since late February last year. I'm sorry, but that really is all I can tell you about it," she stated firmly.

Marcus relented and pocketed his notes. "All right. If there's nothing else--"

"She said there wasn't," Lucius answered for her haughtily as he passed her cup. "If you are quite finished, Mr. Flint, I'd like to ask you a question, if I may?" Marcus nodded, nonverbally prompting his host. "I was rather wondering what does the Ministry know so far about this case? Do they have any strong leads or any witnesses?"

"Well, not as such. They are sending someone to see Macnair. Do you know him?"

The blond wizard gazed at his fingernails casually and replied, "His name is familiar to me, but I don't think I've ever met him. Is he a suspect?" Ginny continued to nurse her tea as she looked on silently.

Marcus stole a quick glance around the room then said softly, "Well, he has been known to dabble in . . . illegal potions, from time to time. They're looking into his past and hoping to get him to cooperate - you know, drop a few names, perhaps - in exchange for a lighter sentence."

This seemed to pique Lucius's interest. "Really?" he asked with a slight raise of his eyebrow. "Was he arrested? I thought he was a Ministry employee, or once was. Do they have any specific charges against him?"

"Well, not any charges, per se - but some suspicious ingredients were found in his home. They're being examined now. Probably nothing will come of it, though; some things used in the most forbidden potions are also found in everyday, mundane items, like cake and candlesticks. So they may have a hard time making anything stick." He added hastily, "Of course, I tell you this in the strictest confidence; I shouldn't even be discussing it outside the office. Can't even tell Millie, and she's dying to know - but she does gossip. I can trust you, right?"

"How long have I known you, Marcus?" He said with a laugh, "Long before Draco made the Quidditch team at Hogwarts, you and he were practicing on the grounds here. I think you can trust me."

The room fell silent except for the ticking of a Swiss clock on the mantle. Toddy knocked on the door then slipped in. He quickly moved to Mr. Malfoy's side and whispered something in a voice so low that even Ginny could not hear him.

"Marcus, my boy, I'm sorry, but I must go now. I have business to attend to, as the house-elf just reminded me - documents that need my attention before tomorrow morning. Will you excuse me?"

The younger wizard nodded mutely as he tried to swallow the cake he was nibbling on as quickly as possible without choking on it. He waved as the master of the house left the parlor. Lucius exchanged a look and a faint smile with Ginny before departing.

"You two seem to be getting on well," Marcus observed. "But of course, I guess you have a lot in common."

She smiled. "Yes, we do. And we do like each other. It comforts me, having him around."

"He's so much like his son. I mean, if Draco had lived to - I'm sorry, I didn't mean to - well, you know what I mean, right?" he finished nervously.

"No, it's all right. At first, it was a little uncanny, the similarities between them, but then, it . . . somehow, he made me feel better, just by being here. Does that make sense?"

Marcus seemed to understand. A short while later, he gathered his cloak and wished her and her family a pleasant evening.

* * * * *

"So you believe your late wife and Severus were lovers?" Lord Voldemort asked him smugly.

Lucius was enraged. "I've long suspected it, based on her behavior when I first arrived home. The way she held me, how she wouldn't look directly at me as we made love, the way she--

"When we were younger, she used to stare at me, as if my eyes held her hypnotized. But then, after I came back home, she would close her eyes and murmur strange things; even though it was my name she cried out, I could sense she wasn't with me. She wasn't thinking of me at all. And as time went on, she seemed more depressed . . . less pleased that I was home." He laughed mirthlessly. "It all makes sense now."

His master said nothing, waiting for him to continue. When Lucius did speak, it was as if he'd had a revelation of sorts.

"You know, Snape's initial response to me when I saw him that day was, at best, guarded and defensive. I should have known right then the bastard had been fucking my wife. Had I known for sure, I would have killed him just for that! But I needed that the potion; I couldn't leave without it. And when the bastard wouldn't even make it for me, then I--"

"You did the right thing, Lucius. And it sounds as if the Ministry doesn't know about your visit to Macnair. Not yet, anyway. You must Crucio him, and soon." The Dark Lord exhaled then uttered, "I've often wondered if his stupidity wouldn't be our undoing.

"Give yourself an alibi, something ironclad that cannot be denied. And make sure you have lots of witnesses who see someone else torturing him." He took out a small packet and displayed a few strands of dark hair. "This is from your sister-in-law, Bella. She's in hiding somewhere on the continent; believe me, they won't find her. Between this and your Time Turner, that should be enough to fool anyone."

~End of Chapter~