Backstory: All war is deception

[byrightsinhell]

Lucius Malfoy, a bit shaken, looks into his mirror and is sobered to see a pale young man with blood along one temple who looks like he’s just been through hell. He’s seeing his fiancée in less than an hour, but a social engagement was hardly an excuse one offered to the Dark Lord. After a shower a small bit of healing magic, he would look (he hoped) as good as new.

Shortly after, he checked the mirror again. A vast improvement. His color was normal, the blood was gone as if it had never been. The change of clothing helped as well; wearing all black had certainly made his pallor look worse than it was.

The truth of the matter, of course, was that he’d had a very close call. They Ministry had authorized Aurors to use unforgivables, though it had mainly been kept out of the Prophet. They didn’t want the outside wizarding community to be scared, they way they so clearly were. But the war was going to get worse, before it got better, even if Lucius was confident of being on the winning side. And he’d been involved long enough to know that it was far from a game anymore.

He closed his eyes on the mirror, attempting to clear his mind, then opened them again. He had to leave all that, for now. He needed to focus on being relaxed. Charming. Confident. And perhaps he would even manage to enjoy what was left of the evening. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.

At the agreed upon moment, he apparated to the Black’s designated arrival area, and headed for the house. His smile was as flawless as his dress, and it would take a good eye indeed to detect anything artificial in it.

Comments

[vanities]

After a beat, her eyes on their hands, she changes her mind about her silence and looks up. "If you die, Lucius Malfoy, if you die and you leave me alone with some infant and your name, I will throw open your house and ruin that name out of spite. I think, therefore, that it'll be in your best interests not to leave me unattended."

She delivers it with perfect equanimity, and it's quite a neat threat for all that she'd never carry it out.

(Some women are more creative when they decide to demand someone not die.)

[byrightsinhell]

He blinks, and then he begins to laugh, quiet but helplessly. It really wasn't that funny, but it's been a tense night for him, and his tension has been looking for a release somewhere.

It doesn't last too long, though, and he says, "Narcissa, I swear to you, if I am on the verge of dying, the threat of your revenge will be the strongest possible incentive to recover."

[vanities]

"Good," she says, satisfied by his reaction and trying not to start laughing herself. "I'm glad we understand each other so well."

[byrightsinhell]

He kisses her again, warmly. "Absolutely." His smile fades, though it doesn't disappear. "And once it's done, there will be nothing you want that you can't have. We'll be one of the most honored families in the country. Things will be better, once it's all over."

[vanities]

Narcissa's own smile is more thin, and she kisses him again instead of answering; as much faith as she can muster, those sort of promises have always left her chilled. They're so easy to break.

[byrightsinhell]

Lucius, while pragmatic about his own death, hasn't the slightest inkling that Voldemort could lose this war. The man is immensely powerful, a brilliant strategist, and he understands that things in wizarding Britain have gone very, very wrong. In this first war, Lucius is following him both because he believes in the cause, and because he thinks it's the winning side.

So he kisses her back, hoping that his closeness will reassure her. He's not a hero - he has no intention of dying if he can help it, and he wouldn't want to leave her if he did.