Corruption

Molly Weasley stood in the doorway of Pinkerton's Potions and looked at the shabby riffraff in Knockturn Alley. Toothless hags, half-dead on their feet, staggered against the walls. Trying to judge when to make her move into the twisting, dark alley, so as not to come too close to those vile creatures, was her main concern. Molly had just picked up a package of Flesh Eating Slug repellant, and wanted to get the job done before Arthur got home from work. Poor dear, he had been working late every night this week! He didn't need to be bothered with this problem. She would handle it herself. She saw a respectable looking gentleman emerge from the next shop down the alley. Dabbing her handkerchief with some the contents of a bottle in her handbag, she stepped out of the doorway and started walking, very fast, toward Diagon Alley.

Lucius Malfoy was just exiting Borgin & Burkes when Molly's petite frame barreled into him from behind, knocking him to his knees, his walking stick clattering to the cobblestones. The frizzy-haired witch was fussing over him, mumbling apologies and trying ineffectually to help him up. Standing at his side, she reached under his elbow with one hand and reached around his head with the other, pressing a handkerchief that stank of turpentine to his face. Three seconds later he was unconscious.

Molly released his limp elbow and rummaged deep in her handbag for her Portkey - a battered row marker. Grabbing Malfoy securely, she averted her face, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and clutched the key. There was no thought in her mind but what she had to do next.

They reappeared in a rough wooden potting shed. Gardening supplies cluttered every open surface - stakes, twine, trowels, dibbles, sheers, and gloves covered the workbench. An array of watering cans, rakes, hoes, shovels, and scythes hung from the wall, and baskets of exotic bulbs and sacks of dried blood, potash, and bone meal were stacked against it. Molly gently lowered Malfoy to the floor, then waved her wand and said Mobilicorpus! to deposit him in a large compost bin. She carefully secured him with the chains she brought from the house, and waited for him to wake. The label on the Muggle potion had not been terribly specific, but she thought that she knew his weight within a stone, and had used only enough ether to last a few minutes. She could wait as long as it took. She was impressed that the Muggle potion had worked at all - there were few potions that easy to use in the magical world! She supposed they would need to be easy to use if Muggles used them, poor things.

Lucius Malfoy woke up with the smell of turpentine still surrounding him, lying chained in a crate of dirt. He could see the frumpy witch who knocked him over watching him like a cat. He was furious. "What is the meaning of this!?" he spat, his eyes blazing.

The witch muttered a hairloss hex, and gathered long locks of his platinum hair as it detached painlessly from his scalp. He had seen lots of torture in his life, but this was laughable! Did she think this intimidated him? This was ridiculous! The old crone must be insane. "Do you have any idea what you are doing? Do you know who I am?"

The witch gathered up the last of his hair, and started to braid it. "I always loved your hair, Lucius. It is the most beautiful stuff, like silk. But Malfoys must always be superlative - the most ruthless, most beautiful, most arrogant, most self-centered. You are so purely selfish, Lucius. That's the only pure thing about you, isn't it? Unfortunate," she sighed and shook her head. "I understood your battles with Arthur. I never agreed, but I understood. You believed you were saving the Wizard World, and more importantly, your place on top of it. But you can't do that by killing children, Lucius. You've spent all your moral capital. When you risked your own child, you went into debt. When you risked my child, you went bankrupt. Now I'm here to collect. I'm here for everything you owe me - and the children."

"Frizzy, frumpy Weasley," he sneered, finally recognizing Arthur's wife, "Don't be stupid. You'll never get away with this!"

"I don't care if I get away with this, Lucius," she said sweetly. "My goal today is to make sure you do not." She smiled at him, but there was madness in her eyes. It didn't bother him - he had dealt with madness before. She was no torturer. He was. Even lying there, chained and wandless, he was securely wrapped in his Malfoy pride. This frumpy housewife would pay dearly when he was free.

He looked at her, pulling on the gardening gloves, then reaching into her bag and taking out a large envelope. What did she have there? He watched as she tore it open carefully, and circled the box he was lying in, sprinkling a thick ring of powder around it. Then she went to the cabinet and pulled down a large earthenware jar. "What is your devious plan, Weasley? To pickle me? You couldn't cast an Unforgiveable if you tried!"

"You're right!" she laughed. "When I first found out, I wanted to. I wanted to turn you into another Frank Longbottom. But Cruciatus is too merciful - mad people are blessed. I don't want madmen to suffer, but I do want you to suffer. Like I did. Like I do. You will feel my pain, Lucius. It will take some time, but not as long as it will take Ginny to heal. I don't have that kind of time for you. I have a family to raise - a daughter." Molly's face clouded with rage, "You nearly killed her, Lucius. Tom Riddle would have. You would have killed a pureblood witch, for what? To resurrect a sixteen-year-old master? You never wanted a master - Malfoys don't serve."

She unstoppered the jar, and dumped it over him. He hissed with pain as acid burned the skin of his face. Flesh Eating Slugs. "Let these eat you the way the memory of that monster eats Ginny. Think about what could have happened, Lucius. Draco was there, too. Think about a twelve year old boy rounding a corner to look a basilisk in the eye! Was it worth it? Was it worth risking Draco? Narcissa wouldn't think so, I'm sure. She'd have your ghost exorcized from the manor if she knew. Should I tell her? I think it would be best. Mother to mother. Let her know how much you loved her little boy." Molly's voice became harsher, "That was your child! Your immortality! Your last best creation as a Malfoy! Your legacy - you risked it all, for what? To get at Arthur? Does he frighten you so much? I don't believe it. Malfoys show no fear - admit no corruption. You should thank me, Lucius, for cleansing your family of you."

The slugs had eaten away all the pale skin on his face, and were starting to disappear into his skull. His nose was gone, as were his lips and his eyes. His head thrashed around in the soft compost. Still, he made no sound. Molly wondered if he was still capable of speech, or if it was just a show of self control. It was a horrible sight, but a satisfying one.

Molly knelt down next to the box, put her arms on the edge and rested her head on top of them, gazing at the ruined face. She said softly, "Cry for me, Lucius. Show me you're sorry. I may be angry enough for a killing curse, but why risk it? I have a knife, too. They say the last cut is Mercy. There may still be some mercy left in me. Can you conjure it up?" Her voice became harder, "Can you make me pity the one who would take the life of my innocent child? You were a great wizard, Lucius, but I don't think Dumbledore and Voldemort combined could charm pity out of me now!"

A hissing cough that sounded a bit like "Narcissa" escaped from his throat.

"She won't help you, Lucius. Trust me on this. It's that maternal instinct. You couldn't understand if you tried. It's not in you. Not that anything will be in you soon. Just slug scat. Corruption. Shall I leave them your remains? It makes lovely compost. Beautiful things do grow out of corruption - but I don't want you in my garden. Heaven knows it will be a sad day when Weasleys and Malfoys share the same dirt!" she sneered.

It was over - he breathed no more. Molly crossed the circle of Flesh Eating Slug repellant and left the garden shed, walking out into the sunshine and across the Malfoy's lane to take one more look at the Manor before she went home. The gardens were fading - they needed the gift she left them. With a sigh, she Apparated to the Burrow.

*

Arthur gently shook her shoulder to wake her. She had fallen asleep, sitting at the kitchen table. It was very late, and he was exhausted. Molly looked like she'd been crying - her handkerchief was still in her hand. "Wake up a bit, Molly, it's time for bed," he whispered in her ear.

Molly looked at him sleepily, with red rimmed eyes. "Arthur! Oh dear, how long have I been lying here? I left a plate out for you - did you eat it?" she said, carefully returning the handkerchief to her handbag, then getting up to tidy the kitchen.

"No, Molly, let it wait until morning. Come to bed now, please."

"Of course, dear," she said, giving him a hug.

They walked companionably up the stairs, his arm around her shoulders. "How was your trip to the garden centre? Did you find everything you needed?" Arthur asked with a yawn as he crawled into bed and extinguished the light.

"Almost! They had so many things! Some things I've never seen before - Persphone's son married that Muggle girl, you know, and she's brought in some new products - potions and the like. I was surprised. Persephone told me they lost the Malfoy's account over it. Bigots! They've been supplying the manor for years! She threw away the old portkey they used for deliveries - all battered and squashed with use over generations! Just rubbish now."

Arthur had fallen asleep almost before his head hit the pillow - he had not heard a word. Lying next to him, Molly stroked his hair and whispered into the darkness, "Just one short trip to Knockturn Alley. Have to protect my little cabbages. Nothing for you to fret over, my love." She kissed the top of his head