"Middle age is having a choice between two temptations and choosing the one that'll get you home earlier." (Dan Bennett)
She was met by a dazzling array of decorations and of colorfully and fantastically costumed witches and wizards. The vaulted main hall of the hospital was lit by a multitude of suspended candles and small, pearl-white glowing ghosts that swirled and dove above and beneath the flames. Reflections from the illuminations sparkled on sequins and silk, reflected off gilt masks and glowed on rich velvets and brocades. Whoever could afford a ticket to St. Mungo's ball could also afford the best and most sophisticated in attire. Most people had elected to remain true to the human form, but she also saw a few other magical creatures, among them several women who had made attempts at appearing as Veela, a few centaurs, a harpy, and even a rather startling dragon.
A small orchestra played on an elevated platform above the crowd, and while the tunes and instrumentation would have appeared rather strange and somewhat archaic to muggle ears, she found the music quite compelling, as obviously did many of the other guests. The area in the center of the hall was filled with dancing couples, which were performing what seemed to be a kind of quadrille. To the sides of the dance floor people chatted in pairs and small groups or sat around candle-lit tables eating and drinking. Eleanor took in the atmosphere and smiled at the sights and sounds. She should have gone back to being a witch ages ago!
Lucius Malfoy looked over the shoulder of the wizard who was talking to him, scanning the hall. Francis Warburton from the International Magical Trading Standards Body did not notice that his audience's attention was barely on the topic of the conversation as he kept droning on about the latest negotiations between the Chinese trade delegation and himself regarding the import ban on enchanted acupuncture equipment.
He wore fake vampire fangs over his front teeth, which made him speak with a pronounced lisp that Lucius found particularly annoying. "…And af you know, when we ftill allowed free acceff in the eighties, how many healerf did irreparable damage to their patientf by unlicenfed and untrained ufe of thofe needlef. It waf dreadful! Why, I myfelf ftill remember poor Marjorie Nefbitt from the floo network monitoring team looking like a pincuffion for 3 monthf, until they found out how to fafely remove all the needlef. Without adequate training and licenfing it is juft unconfcionable to let people buy thefe thingf…"
Lucius was about ready to put a silencio charm or worse on the lanky bespectacled Ministry official who had now dared to lay his hand on his forearm to emphasize a point. Instead he gritted his teeth. "Yes, Francis, I completely agree," he said coldly, hoping the man would finally shut up or find another victim for his inane chatter. Gods! He had managed to get away from Narcissa after the obligatory speeches had been made and the buffet had been declared open. He could see her, toy-boy in tow, standing among a cluster of socialite witches that had crowded around Hippocrates Smethwyck, the healer-in-charge at the ward for creature-induced injuries. The wizard must have made a humorous remark, because all the women exploded in hysterical, exaggerated laughter. Warburton was still talking and lisping.
Suddenly Lucius felt another touch. Someone had lightly tapped him on the shoulder. "Excuse me, Francis," he said automatically to the Ministry official, cutting him off, and turned, only to freeze in shock. Eleanor Sartorius stood before him – enveloped in living fire. Tongues of orange flame billowed around her legs and torso, flared up her arms like gloves, even surrounded her deep green eyes and temples like a mask. Only her shoulders, her neck and the lower part of her face seemed to be unaffected.
He blanched, remembering her burning, screaming in agony under Lepidus spell in the dungeon. But now she was smiling at him, and as he blinked in surprise, he realized that she was actually wearing a low-cut, sleeveless, floor-long dress, long cocktail gloves and a small horned silk mask covering her eyes. The fabric was enchanted to ripple, glow and move like actual flames. To complete her costume she had piled her coppery hair atop her head with only a few stray strands framing her face. The light golden skin of her exposed neck and shoulders contrasted well with the riot of fire hues surrounding her. She really looked quite stunning, but his stomach still felt as if it had been turned to ice water.
While he was looking at her Eleanor's smile slowly turned to concern. "Lucius, are you all right," she asked him. It was hard to read his expression as he was wearing a mask covering is eyes and forehead, but he seemed to have turned very pale. He opened his lips to respond when the skinny tall wizard he had been talking to chimed in. "Charmed to make your acquaintance," he droned, proffering a hand and neatly stepping around Lucius Malfoy. "Francif Warburton, International Magical Trading Ftandardf Body." She found herself rather taken by surprise as she tried not to smirk at what was obviously a costume-induced speech defect and introduced herself to a Ministry official dressed like a nosferatu.
Fortunately Lucius would not be sidelined long. As he moved up to her and possessively laid a hand on her arm, she could see by the tension in the corners of his mouth, that his patience with Francis Warburton was wearing dangerously thin. "Francis, if you will excuse us," he said curtly. "I have been waiting for Miss Sartorius and have a few things to discuss with her." Warburton closed his mouth mid-sentence, forgetting the fangs on his incisors, which now comically stuck out over his lower lip. He bowed stiffly and walked off in an apparent huff.
Eleanor had time to survey the blond wizard standing next to her as he watched the Ministry official cast a last wounded glance behind him and then join another group of masked victims. Lucius was dressed in black velvet, no surprise there, she thought. However, his robes had subtle silver stitching applied to them that reminded her of some nightmarish insect carapace. There was something spidery and chitinous about him, and when she took a closer look at the black and silver mask covering the upper half of his face she saw that it showed the design of a scorpion. Of course, she thought, the light homage to his astrological sign on his birthday was very appropriate.
Her musings were interrupted as Lucius turned to her and she saw the glimmer of his pale eyes behind the glossy black depths of his mask. The strange expression of shock and fierceness that she had noticed earlier had not quite left his face and his right hand still encircled her arm with an almost painful intensity. "What are you doing?" he hissed.
She would have taken a surprised step back, if his grip had allowed it. As it was she looked up at him. "What?" The orchestra struck up another tune, a lively jig this time, and he had to bend to her ear to make himself heard. "Your dress! Did you want to remind me on purpose?" She craned her neck to speak into his ear. "Remind you of what?" Now his left had grasped her other arm and he shook her slightly as he answered her. "Lepidus, the burning curse. By Azrael! Why?"
Suddenly his odd reaction made sense to her and she felt a stab of remorse at her thoughtlessness. She looked up at him. "Lucius, the dress belonged to my grandmother. Falco enchanted it for her for a ball many years ago. It has nothing to do with Lepidus. How would I even know what I looked like when he cursed me?"
Her lover let go of her right arm and passed a hand through his hair. "Look, I did not think," she added. "The last thing I would want to remind you of tonight is of that." He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. "I am sorry," he finally said. "I do not relish celebrating my birthday much this year. Knowing that my mother…" he broke off, closing his eyes behind his mask. She laid a hand on his chest.
For a moment he seemed lost in thought, then she felt a sudden resolve in him as he straightened. When he looked at her again she saw his lips twitch briefly and it seemed that another mask slipped over his face. His tone was light and taunting as he resumed speaking. "So you finally make your grand entrance, after abandoning me to two of the most vexing hours of pomposity and small talk. What took you so long? You better think of a way to make it up to me!" She understood and smiled. Angst was not a natural state of existence for Lucius Malfoy, and if he needed irony and innuendo to get over it, she would not stand in his way.
She pursed her lips and decided to reply with a challenge. "Yes, and you look very stunning yourself, Mr. Malfoy. Thanks for the compliment." It was quite a shame that the scorpion mask had to hide the quick rise of his eyebrows. He bit his lip. "Gorgeous costume, Miss Sartorius, actually heart-stopping," he drawled. "May I ask you to dance?" He curved his mouth at the brief expression of panic that crossed her face. It had been years since she had danced, but before she could make any excuses he had turned her and an imperious hand at the small of her back pushed her inexorably towards the moving couples on the dance floor.
Before she could warn him that his toes were now in mortal danger, his arms encircled her and she found herself following his lead as he expertly guided her through the figures and paces of the dance. The first minute or so felt awkward as she tried her best to avoid stepping on his feet, but then part of her seemed to remember and she settled into the quick swirling motions of the jig.
Somehow it did not surprise her to find him an excellent dancer. He moved with the same self-assured grace that he displayed in everything else, and she enjoyed abandoning herself to his guidance. They stayed on for the next two pieces, which were of an equally demanding pace as the jig, and when he bowed to her at the end of the third dance she found herself quite flushed and out of breath.
A cool voice behind her caused her to turn, but not before she had seen her lover's face tighten in response. "Ah, darling, fancy seeing you on the dance floor. How unusual for you. Why don't you introduce me to your charming partner?" She found herself next to a slender woman of about her own age dressed in gorgeous, jewel laden Spanish court attire of the 16th century. The tightly laced silver-encrusted bodice of her dress showed off her slim figure to best advantage and the high ruffled lace collar emphasized her long graceful neck. She was accompanied by a handsome dark-haired young wizard whose costume as a courtier matched hers in colors, materials and period. Despite her attempts at a polite and somewhat frigid smile she conveyed the impression that she was faintly disgusted with her surroundings.
Eleanor heard Lucius sigh to himself as he stepped up to her and handled the introductions in a bored drawl that clearly betrayed his annoyance. "This is Professor Eleanor Sartorius of Hogwarts. Eleanor, my wife Narcissa and Hubertus Yarrow, tutor to our son Draco." Narcissa held out a gloved hand with the chilly reluctance of someone who finds herself compelled to have to touch something slightly nauseating. "How do you do, professor? Such a delight to have you here at the ball." Eleanor decided to have some fun while playing along with the situation and eagerly grasped and shook the proffered hand. "Mrs. Malfoy! It is such a pleasure to be here. You are truly gifted to be able to pull such a magnificent event together. Absolutely marvelous! I am so glad to be able to thank you and compliment you in person."
Narcissa now looked decidedly annoyed. It was plainly obvious that she knew about the nature of Eleanor's involvement with her husband, just as Lucius was well aware of the place that Mr. Yarrow had in the affections of his wife. Of course Yarrow managed to look appropriately uncomfortable in the presence of Mr. Malfoy while Eleanor had the audacity to seem enthusiastically oblivious to the awkwardness of the situation. It clearly put Mrs. Malfoy out. She tried to look down her nose at her rival, which did not appear quite convincing, as she was slightly shorter. "So who did your costume? Madame Malkin? It's very – interesting."
Eleanor now positively glowed with delight. "You like it? I am so thrilled," she gushed. "Actually it is an old family heirloom. My grandfather Falco Sartorius enchanted it for my grandmother." She leaned in as if imparting a well-guarded secret. "Family tradition has it, that it was the skill that my grandfather displayed in enchanting this very dress, that finally made her decide to accept his proposal of handfasting. It's so romantic, don't you think?"
Mrs. Malfoy tried her best not to recoil, but Eleanor was not quite finished. She shot her a perfect, dazzling smile. "Oh, I knew you'd understand," she sighed. "I mean, look at your own beautiful, splendid costumes." Her smile now encompassed Mr. Yarrow, who shifted in near-panic. "A perfect match. I think that is so – cute…"
She trailed off and stepped back, her demented grin still in place, watching in satisfaction as Narcissa Malfoy turned a very interesting shade of angry crimson and her companion looked as if he were seriously contemplating a disapparition spell. For a few charged moments everyone remained frozen into a tableau of supreme awkwardness, then Narcissa Malfoy gathered her skirts and tossed her head. "Professor, excuse us, we must be going. Mr. Yarrow…" Quickly the younger wizard scrambled to the side of his mistress and offered his arm.
As the couple turned Narcissa decided to launch one last barb. "Goodnight darling," she called to Lucius over her shoulder. "I am surprised you did not treat yourself to something younger on your birthday. It seems to be so out of keeping with your usual tastes. You must be finally getting old." Eleanor watched them depart and finally shook with silent laughter until she thought she heard an angry growl from her companion.
A quick glance at Lucius showed that he had not found the encounter in the least amusing. His mouth was compressed in a thin line of fury and his complexion closely matched that of his wife. He turned to her and for a moment she felt a genuine stab of fear at the thought that he might blame her for overstepping her boundaries until he started to speak.
"This is an outrage! How dare she confront me and make a scene, her pathetic little lover in tow? This goes against every agreement we have! And to suggest that a Sartorius would consider buying her robes at an establishment like Mrs. Malkin's. She has never done anything like this before!" Eleanor watched him as he stared at the receding back of his wife and wisely refrained from commenting that the remark regarding her dress had been positively polite in comparison to Narcissa's final cheap parting shot at him.
She touched his hand to get his attention leaning in to him with an air of conspiracy. "Actually I am flattered, Lucius. From a woman's perspective I would think that she must have considered all of your previous conquests complete lightweights, not worth her care. It seems I have her rattled, and she has decided that you have finally grown up. I really don't think she likes it."
The blond wizard shook his head. "I need a glass of wine and I need to get out of here before I do something regrettable." She gave him a smirk. "Better something regrettable, than something unforgivable." He took her arm, moving away from the dance floor and over to one of the tables. "In this case, that would be the same thing," he growled, realizing her reference to the three curses.
He picked up two large goblets of mulled wine, handed one to her and pulled her into a dark corner of the room. A second later he had pulled his wand from his cane, murmured an incantation and they were standing in a dimly lit and deserted corridor next to an arched window. Gold letters sprawled lazily on a black sign above them and proclaimed "Fourth Floor: Spell Damage."
Without comment Lucius put the mugs of wine onto the windowsill, and a moment later Eleanor found herself wrapped in his arms with his mouth on her lips. The force of his kiss betrayed the full extent of his anger and tension, and she had to remember to breathe as her ribs suffered under the intensity of his crushing embrace.
Finally he released her somewhat, keeping one hand on her back, and removed the mask from his face. She looked up into his storm-grey eyes and lifted her own mask. In the dusk of the corridor her dress cast a soft flickering radiance of fire on his features and reflected off the silver thread of his costume. She smiled. "I think we have been off to a better start on previous occasions." He gave a grim nod. "But that's not altogether bad," she continued. "After all, things can now only improve…"
He moved in for another kiss, less fierce this time, and more exploratory. She felt a thrill of anticipation as his fingers trailed over the bare skin of her neck and shoulders and she surrendered herself to the excitement of enjoying his attentions in the potentially compromising setting of a hospital corridor. The night shift of doctors and nurses would surely be working, and there was always the possibility of a sudden emergency. She bunched her hands in the luxurious richness of his velvet robes, feeling the heat from his body through the sensuous fabric.
Soon she found herself getting quite aroused and she began to entertain the thought that they might very well throw caution to the wind, when suddenly she realized that someone had already beaten them to it. A muffled groan further down the hall made her jump. Lucius broke his kiss and looked over his shoulder.
The noise was repeated, echoed by a lighter moan of passion that obviously belonged to a woman, and she could now identify the origin of the sounds. Further down the corridor a black curtain started to move with a very suggestive rhythm. Lucius shook his head. "I give up," he sighed. "I should have stayed in bed this morning and drunk myself into oblivion. Why don't you just hex me and call a mediwizard? At least that way we'll get a room."
She stroked him. "Let's get away from here. I would at least like to give you your birthday present first. And I have some news for you." He sighed and picked up the mulled wine. "I was under the impression I was already about to get my birthday present just then." She gave him a mock slap, but he was already on a new mission, leading her down the hall away from the lovers and opened the door to one of the patient's rooms. She leaned in to him. "Lucius, we can't just…" she whispered, but he pushed her into the darkened room and resolutely closed the door behind her. "Oh yes, we can," he announced in his normal voice. "Lumos!"
Lights flared up and she found herself in a small high room occupied by a bed, a small cupboard, table and two chairs. He put the goblets on the table as if he owned the place and pulled out a chair for her to sit. She stared at him in disbelief and pointed over to the bed that was clearly occupied by a patient. Lucius sat down opposite her. "Oh, don't mind him," he announced. "He's been lost to the world for something like 20 year now. That's old Mr. Mulciber. I visit him occasionally to check up on any improvements. He had the misfortune to earn the Dark Lord's displeasure one night. The Dark Lord tried a new spell on him that he had recently discovered in his studies of old Chaldean magical scrolls, just out of curiosity, to see what would happen. Old Mulciber keeled over with a look of exquisite horror on his face that hasn't changed since. It seems the spell cannot be reversed. Pity."
Eleanor stared at the blond wizard. While she had thought that she had come to terms with the fact that she had elected to become the mistress of a Death Eater, Lucius' occasional bouts of reckless callousness still managed to shock her. "He is the father of the boy who got sick…" "At the thought of forcing himself on Miss Lenting, yes," he finished the sentence for her. "Fortunately old Mulciber wasn't around to witness the disgrace of his son."
She finally found she had to object. "Lucius, I would have thought one could call the behavior of the others disgraceful. Young Mulciber…" "Showed unforgivable weakness," he interrupted her. "My disobedience earned me punishment, but at least it did not compromise my status. I had used a killing curse after all. Mulciber's career as a Death Eater was over after that, even before it had really started. Until his recent demise Lepidus usually commanded him to clean up the mess after we were done with a muggle or mudblood. Might as well be a house elf."
She leaned back. 'You know what and who he is,' she admonished herself. 'Don't go fainting every time he reminds you of it.' To order her thoughts she took a sip of the spiced hot wine and looked at the rigid form of an elderly wizard stretched out on the bed in the far corner of the room. 'Another pureblood family finished by Voldemort,' she thought. The cheerless setting was in keeping with the rather abysmal birthday Lucius seemed to be celebrating this year. The mood certainly fit.
Her hand slipped into a hidden pocket in her dress and she pulled out the small box she had brought and placed it on the table before him. She felt tired and deflated. "Happy birthday, Lucius," she said quietly. He got up and stood before her. "Let's do this right," he demanded. "You're supposed to kiss me and give me my present." His glace at her was speculative as she moved out of her chair and she sighed inwardly. 'He's just told you that weakness will not be tolerated,' she thought grimly as she braced herself to play along.
She picked up the gift and stepped into his arms, pulling his face down to hers for a deep and drawn out kiss. He responded, but she eventually broke the connection and held out her present. She had no intention to let things get out of hand in the presence of Mulciber senior, no matter how oblivious Voldemort's curse had rendered the old wizard.
Lucius took the box from her and removed the wrapping. He opened the lid and revealed a beautifully crafted signet ring of deep yellow gold. The midnight blue, pyrite-flecked lapis at its center bore the family crest of the Sartorius, lion and scorpion. The wizard placed the box and paper back on the table and moved closer to the light to inspect the ring. "It is beautiful, with a superbly cut gem," he declared with unfeigned admiration. Then he turned to her. "You have not done anything as sentimental and foolish as give me a family heirloom?"
She looked into his face and to her amazement read both annoyance and the shadow of a breathless expectation that perhaps she had. "I had it made a few weeks ago as an exact copy of Falco Sartorius' signet ring, which is in my possession. I think you will probably deem it indiscrete to wear the Sartorius crest openly and so will prize the ring less for its value as jewelry than for its magical properties. It's enchanted as a portkey."
Her lover looked from her to the ring and she saw a brief humorless twitch of his lips. "Indiscreet, I hope so," he declared. "After what happened tonight I have every intention of being indiscreet." He held out his hand and the ring to her. "Little finger, right next to my wedding band, you might as well do the honors," he commanded.
She raised an eyebrow at his proffered hand, then took the ring from him and gently slipped it on his finger, murmuring an incantation. It fit perfectly. He nodded, balled his hand into a fist and inspected her gift. His right hand now bore the heavy onyx and silver signet ring of the Malfoy family, his left a plain gold band and next to it the Sartorius crest, indigo and gold. She had to admit that the sight stirred her, but told herself that his motivation in wearing the ring had probably less to do with attachment to her than with revenge with regards to his wife.
Lucius looked from the ring to the slender flame-clad woman who stood before him, the gaze of her eyes unreadable. Even though he would have rather swallowed his own tongue than admit it openly, he decided he could have handled the acceptance of her gift with more grace. He had asked her to set the jewel on his finger, which was normally a handfasting ritual and would imply a serious connection between them. Then he had told her that he was wearing her gift purely to get back at Narcissa.
'Smooth, Lucius,' he chided himself in a rare instance of self-criticism. Well, at least he had kept true to form on this miserable day. In truth, her present had thrown him off balance. For a moment he had suspected that she had given him Falco's ring, which he would have refused, though her intention would have pleased him beyond measure. He took one last look at his hand, then let it drop by his side. She deserved better. "You know that I really wear it for you," he stated gruffly. "Narcissa be damned."
He saw a small smile lift the corners of her mouth now. It seemed he had found the right thing to say after all. Time to move on. "It's a portkey, you say?" he asked. She nodded. "I bet you can't guess to where, through," she challenged him. He moved in and put his arm around her. "Don't be too sure, I am a halfway decent legilimens," he threatened her. "Not fair," she protested. "Well, let's try the non-magical way first. Though I wouldn't like anything better, it can't be for Hogwarts, because of their apparition rules. After all, you can apparate out and back, but you cannot apparate in. So still no sneaking up on you in your bedroom in the middle of the night." He paused, then had an idea. "Your house in London. The place with the shower."
She grinned. "Nice idea, my dear, but wrong." He frowned and tried a few other suggestions, some of them fairly outrageous, so that they were both laughing, until he finally shook his head. "Well, either you let me put a legilimens charm on you, or I have to give up." She looked at him. "It's for the House of Fire at Durmstrang," she told him. His raised his left brow. "Durmstrang? Your old school?"
She paused for a moment, stoking his curiosity, then told him of her new teaching assignment. He nodded approvingly. "Well it seems you actually do listen to me on occasion. At least you are giving up your damned muggle studies for Defense against the Dark Arts. Congratulations. And you will be a Salamander. Just like your grandmother, I bet," he looked at her dress again as her choice of attire began to make even more sense to him. "My fiery Salamandra," he smiled, trailing his fingers over the bare skin of her shoulders.
She shivered under his tentative touch. "So I presume you will be teaching your pupils first what they need to defend against?" he asked, his voice silky with temptation. "I remember you telling me once that to know your enemy was paramount." She tilted her head. "You are a member of the council of governors of Hogwarts school of magic, and you are suggesting that I teach young wizards and witches the dark arts, Mr. Malfoy?" "Of course," he said. "What's the point of defending yourself against something the mechanics of which you don't even understand?"
She drew herself up, challenge in her eyes. "Have a care, Mr. Malfoy, in years to come you and your associates will assuredly fight some of my former students. And you will not like it." He smirked. "I would hope so."
She noticed then, that he had picked up another train of thoughts. He absentmindedly lifted a wine-mug from the table and drank. She cocked a questioning eyebrow at him. "A sickle for your thoughts," she said. He handed her the other mug. "You know, if you are at Durmstrang, I have half a mind to change my schooling plans for Draco. You know I only got my position on the board of governors so I could keep an eye on that old fool Dumbledore and prevent him from any actions that would jeopardize my son's education. Now, with a witch I trust at Durmstrang, I could give up on that – the job is a major pain to begin with – and I would still know that Draco was in good hands. The Malfoys have a tradition both with Slytherin and with the House of Water at Durmstrang. Plus I'd have even more reason to visit."
Eleanor took a sip of the mulled wine. "I'd be happy to look after Draco, but I could see your wife throwing a major fit if she found out." He shrugged his shoulders. "I am head of the family. He is my son," he said simply, as if that would settle matters. "If I can sidestep the headmaster of Hogwarts as a result, I'd be prepared to put up a fight with her if necessary."
"You really hate Dumbledore," she stated, looking at him. Lucius swept his hand across in a dismissive gesture. "He is a fool and he stands in our way," he answered, but found that Eleanor tilted her head and gave him a speculative look. "I think you underestimate the man," she warned him. "I have spoken with him on several occasions these past few months. He knows more than you think, and his plans a subtler than any realize. Do not be too rash to discount him." The blond wizard shrugged his shoulders. "For example?" he challenged her.
She took a deep breath. It would be dangerous to tell him this. It could even jeopardize the future of their relationship, but she had always tried to be honest with him. "What if I were to tell you, that I was hired at Hogwarts to cross the Death Eaters' plans with regards to Falco's creation, long before any of us, including Lepidus, knew about the homunculus? What if I were to tell you beyond this that Dumbledore speculated on our meeting and somehow expected that we would get involved? What if you knew that he hoped that I would be able to use our mutual attraction for each other to turn you against the Dark Lord?
It took me until last Sunday night to realize that I have been a pawn in a game that I didn't fully understand and on a board that had been set by Dumbledore a long time ago. He played well. He even told me that he took the calculated risk that you would pull me over to the side of the Death Eaters. As it turned out, his highest hopes were not realized, but neither were his deepest fears. I thought to follow the interests of my family and my own, but ultimately my will and your sense of honor served Dumbledore's intent to keep Voldemort at bay. At least I got payment for my services. So in all I am happy to leave Hogwarts and go back to Durmstrang. I don't like being played like that."
Lucius Malfoy stared at her, his grey eyes hardened by anger when she finished. "What payment?" he demanded, his voice cold with suspicion. Eleanor looked at him. "You." He frowned. "Me? How can Dumbledore make any decisions regarding me?"
She shook her head. "No, you, as you are, no investigation, no interrogation, no arrest, no demotion from the board of governors, not a word about your alliance with Lepidus. That's what I asked for. That's why no one went bothering you, and that's why you are safe. They could have taken you in. Once they had Lepidus on veritaserum they knew everything. Your contacts didn't get to him first to obliviate him. The aurors told me when they questioned me. Yes, Dumbledore has that much influence. Surprised? I certainly was."
For once she had rendered her lover speechless. Thoughtfully he moved his thumb over his lips. "By Hecate," he finally said. "I had no idea. How does he do that? How did he know about our involvement? Or that we even would get involved?"
Eleanor shook her head. "I didn't tell him, and I was as discrete as I could be, but I swear to you, when I came back last Sunday, he knew exactly where I'd been and I think he had a very good idea what we'd been up to. As to the likelihood of our relationship, your guess is as good as mine. Maybe he's an ace in divination and foresaw it. May be he's a legilimens and realized you are my ultimate wet dream. Maybe he knows you just can't resist a bit of pureblood skirt, who knows." He cocked an eyebrow at her. "I am your wet dream?" he asked suggestively. "No," she taunted him. "I go crazy like this with all the guys I meet…"
They fell silent again. Finally Lucius grasped her hands. "Thank you for using what leverage you had on my behalf," he said quietly. "I owed you," she smiled, "For the deflected cruciatus, for saving me from the burning spell and for your restraint in not fighting me over the homunculus. Just be on your guard with regards to Dumbledore. I think he feels he's paid his debt for now. The next time he's challenged he may decide to follow through." The blond wizard nodded. "I will keep that in mind."
He finished the last of his wine and looked at her expectantly. "So, how about my other birthday present?" he asked. She stared at him. "Not here," she declared resolutely. "Not with this guy here. It may be Halloween, but that's too creepy. We can go and apparate at your house later, if you wish and I'll grant you carte blanche, solemn word of honor. First I was rather hoping we could stay and dance and watch the fireworks, though."
She held out her hand, smiling at the suggestive leer that curled his lips at her promise. "We should not have to be skulking up here like a couple of pissed off teenagers, you know. After all, even though I am a Sartorius, I reassure you I am really not ashamed to be seen at your side and show you off for a bit." She winked at him and placed her mask back over her eyes when she saw that she had actually managed to dent his pride. He offered her his arm. "Insufferable arrogance," he murmured.
Then as he turned to leave with her he picked up her wine goblet and offered a parting toast to the silent inhabitant of the room. "Happy Halloween, Mulciber, and cheers old chap. Lepidus is in Azkaban and I'll promise I'll take care of young Mulciber and find someone else to do the clean-up work from now on."
A few minutes later they joined the couples on the dance floor in the main hall, and as Lucius Malfoy inhaled the slight scent of frankincense that rose from the fire-clad body of the dancing partner in his arms and caught a glimpse of the scowling face of his wife in the crowd, he decided that his birthday had not been a complete waste of time after all.
He had once again managed to maneuver himself out of a tight spot. His cover had held against all odds. Durmstrang offered new and exciting opportunities, and if he had any say in the matter there was still a long night to follow the evening's entertainments. Life was definitely going to be good this winter!