Hey, Soul Sister [Lucius/Narcissa]

Chapter Eighteen

"Well, I must say, I'm rather impressed."

Lucius froze, his body going cold as his focus landed on the man seated across from his father in Malfoy Manor's lounge. The Dark Lord was always an imposing figure—too pale, the whites of his eyes bloodshot—but he was particularly intimidating when one hadn't been expecting to see him. Lucius had planned to Apparate to the Dark Lord after leaving the Manor's shield, but he now knew that was unnecessary.

Lucius glanced downward and dusted the soot from the front of his robes, taking a moment to collect himself and determine exactly how to respond to the situation at hand. The Dark Mark had ceased to burn, thankfully, but now here he stood, before both his father and the Dark Lord. Lucius wondered whether either of them would care enough to ask how he'd managed to leave school in order to return home, and if they did, what they would think of the fact that he'd lied to Dumbledore or that he'd bothered asking for permission to leave in the first place.

"My Lord." Lucius took a few steps forward and bowed deeply. As he stood to his full height once again, the Dark Lord drew his wand, and Lucius tensed on instinct. When the Dark Lord flicked his wrist, however, Lucius felt only a short, cool gust form behind him, and he glanced backward to find that the fire had gone out. The Dark Lord nodded to him slowly and then looked to Abraxas.

"That was much quicker than I'd expected, given security at the school."

"He is loyal to you, My Lord," said Abraxas, inclining his head to the other man. "Whatever you require, my son will find a way."

"I will remember that, Abraxas, and I will hold you both to it."

The Dark Lord stood, his cold gaze drifting over Lucius once more before shifting to the door. Without another word, he left the room.

Lucius stared after him unblinkingly for several moments. He didn't begin to understand what had just transpired, and he couldn't find the words to demand an explanation of his father.

Was this all a joke? Why did he summon me if he was just going to leave?

Abraxas rose from his chair, his movements rather stiff, and took a step toward his son. Evidently, the questions Lucius wanted to ask were etched into his expression, as his father began to speak without verbal prompting.

"He's testing you." Abraxas's voice was tight and carefully controlled. He was concealing something—holding something back.

"Why?" Lucius pressed. "Why would he do that? There are at least a dozen others still at the school, not risking their necks by lying to Dumbledore to sneak away. Why does he want to test me and not them?"

Abraxas sighed heavily. He strode to the bar and poured himself a glass of rum, lifting it to his mouth and taking a long drink before returning his focus to his son. "Sit down, Lucius."

The younger Malfoy nearly protested that he'd rather stand, but as he took in how exhausted his father appeared to be, he found his own desire to argue diminished. Lucius sat at the edge of the chair the Dark Lord had vacated. His ominous presence still lingered over the room, and Lucius didn't feel that getting too comfortable was wise, particularly when his father appeared to be worried about something. He watched as Abraxas moved closer again, the elder man's steps slow and measured, and Lucius couldn't shake the notion that his father looked considerably older than he had the last time they'd seen one another, though that had only been a week previously. As Abraxas settled into his chair once again, Lucius caught sight of a small red blemish on the hand with which his father held the glass of rum, and he frowned.

"Father, are you...?" Lucius trailed off, uncertain of how to finish the thought. Feeling well? The stiffness of Abraxas's motions suggested the answer to that question. All right? He certainly wasn't. But Lucius couldn't begin to guess at something more specific in order to ask it.