Originally posted by PeterGriffinlol
**** me, this story is fecking awesome, if JK authorised fan fics to be legally published this one would be top of my list toeatbuy.Good stuff 👆
Post more😐
Nah kidding. But seriously post more or Ill stab you.
Kidding.
😖hifty:
😐
ps sorry for personal troubles 🙂
ps...ps...😐 I only found this through Syren's sig 😊
Originally posted by H. S. 6
Yeah. You too. ermm
Originally posted by PeterGriffin
**** me, this story is fecking awesome, if JK authorised fan fics to be legally published this one would be top of my list toeatbuy.
Originally posted by Syren
eyesI am awesomeness - I may not be able to write like HS, but my god can I network diva
Sorry guys. I meant to have the next part up by now, but... well, like Barker said, first week of school = not ready for work load. 😬
However, some good news: I actually do have the next part ready to go, for the most part, but I was thinking about cleaning up the part after that to post that was well, making for a long post... I don't know what I'll do yet; it depends how much free time I have tomorow/this weekend. If all goes well, the next part will be up sometime this weekend. 🙂
Originally posted by PeterGriffin
**** me, this story is fecking awesome, if JK authorised fan fics to be legally published this one would be top of my list toeatbuy.Good stuff 👆
ps sorry for personal troubles 🙂
ps...ps...😐 I only found this through Syren's sig 😊
Thanks. This definitely means a lot coming from Mist PeterGriffin. 😄
Originally posted by Syren
eyesI am awesomeness - I may not be able to write like HS, but my god can I network diva
That you can.
And I have to say, I am now forever in your debt. 😛
Okay, so for this post, we're dropping back in on Snape and Lucius, on the night that Lucius went to Snape's house. (Keep in mind this is several nights before the wedding between Fleur and Bill.)
Originally posted by H. S. 6
[...]Fleur’s father placed his wand gently on the altar (There was a flat top to it, and Harry noticed later that there was a slight groove in the wood, specifically for wands.), and then backed away, taking a few steps behind Fleur.
“Fleur’s father is showing that he is letting his daughter go with the husband of her choice. He’s giving them his blessing. This is all traditional; I’ve just finished reading the book A Menagerie of Magical Marriages,” whispered Hermione triumphantly, evidently proud to know the meaning of everything that was going on. Harry smiled in spite of himself, wondering what else Hermione could have possibly said to make her sound more like herself.
Without further hesitation, Fleur stepped up to the altar. From Harry’s point of view, she was standing to the right of the altar, while Bill was to the left, across from her (Fleur’s father had since returned to his seat in the first row). There were a few awkward moments where nothing happened.
Then, somebody else from the crowd stood up, although this time, he was unrelated to either family. However, Harry would have recognized the mane of gray-streaked tawny hairy anywhere, not to mention his gated limp and worn walking stick.
Rufus Scrimgeour, better known as the Minister of Magic, made his way down the aisle and around the altar. He stepped up to the dark oak stand and eyed the crowd with familiar keen yellow eyes. Harry thought his smile seemed strangely fake.
Hermione gasped. “He’s doing the wedding?!” she hissed. “I hope Mr. Weasley knows what he’s doing; it’s not exactly the best time to forge alliances that can’t possibly be withheld.”
“What do you mean?” whispered Harry out of the corner of his mouth. Scrimgeour had just begun to unravel a bit of scroll he had pulled out of his robes.
“Think about it, Harry. If the Order and Ministry are making friendships now, that’s only going to make people all the more bitter later, when they’re broken...”
“Why can’t—” began Harry, but he was cut off. The Minister of Magic was speaking.
His voice was gruff, as Harry remembered it, but he sounded more tired, as if he were exhausted. He began, “We are here today to witness the joyful bond that a young man and a young woman have been able to enjoy, even in times that may seem dark and grim. Let us not forget that even in these times, happiness is only as far away as you make it.” Harry snorted and noted that this short speech seemed stale and scripted. “By the power vested in me as Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, I now profess this wizard, Bill Weasley, and this witch, Fleur Delacour, husband, and wife.”
Scrimgeour pulled out his own wand. He waved it once in a wide arc through the air, and a ribbon of electric blue material appeared. He stepped back, and the tube of azure snaked around the couple, eventually encircling them. With a loud crack, it vanished in a shower of white sparks that rained down upon the newly wedded couple.
The spectators burst into applause. Mrs. Weasley smiled broadly as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.
Harry clapped along with the others. He could see Ron and Charlie hugging their brother, followed by Fred, George, and Ginny. When Mr. and Mrs. Weasley joined the family hug, there seemed to be a mass of bobbing red heads by the altar. Only one person was missing…
Harry, Hermione, and Hagrid saw him before the Weasley’s did. He stood a few meters away, unsure of what to do. Harry thought it was the first time he had seen him unsure.
Mrs. Weasley noticed him next. “Well, come on!” he heard her say.
The people in the crowd had, for the most part, already stood, and were now laughing and chatting in their own groups. That meant that Harry, Hermione, and Hagrid were the only ones to observe this slight victory, while meaning something to them.
Percy Weasley, the self-important, stuck up prat, strode over to his brothers, sister, and parents, and joined in on their family hug. It seemed that his wall had finally come down.
Even though he knew it wouldn’t last, Harry couldn’t help but take comfort in this day, for it was so far, undoubtedly, a day of happiness.
“My lord, if I may, he’s… hysterical. Beyond help.” As an afterthought, Snape added, “…unfortunately.” His voice remained an unwavering monotone while speaking to his master. Beside him was Lucius Malfoy, who stood with his head down and his cloak wrapped tightly around him. The odd sniffle occasionally escaped from under his hood.
Snape had brought Lucius to Lord Voldemort’s current residence; a small cabin, hardly noticeable to any stray passer-bys, at the edge of a quiet Muggle town.
The two Death Eaters now stood in the small parlor of the old home. Voldemort remained sitting in a throne-like chair he had summoned—the only furniture in the room.
It was still dark outside; the only light came from the fireplace, in which a dying fire cast flickering shadows about the room. An eerie wind whistled outside—remnants of the storm that had been raging over Snape’s own current home.
Voldemort flicked his wand lazily, directing the gesture at Lucius, who had collapsed on the floor in a fit of hysterical sobs. His body snapped upright, hovering several inches above the floor.
The movement was quick and violent. Something inside broke, producing a dull crack that one might hear when they snap a tree branch in half. Lucius screamed in bitter pain, muttering incoherently in a high-pitched tone, as if he were a cowering puppy.
“You say…” began the Dark Lord, “that you managed to escape Azkaban.”
Lucius continued to whimper for several seconds. He didn’t answer.
Voldemort hissed, and raised his wand mere centimeters in the air. Lucius’s body became more rigid, pulling tighter as if he were being squeezed together by an unseen force. A pained gasp escaped his lips.
This time, he spoke. “Y-y-yes, my lord. O-o-only a few hours ago.” (It was still several days until the young Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour would be married.)
Voldemort’s blood red eyes shown with something like that of renewed interest. “Who else?” he demanded. “Who else escaped?”
Lucius struggled in vain against the invisible force surrounding him. The Dark Lord sneered with contempt and lowered his wand. Lucius fell to the floor in a crumpled heap.
There was a moment of silence. Voldemort glanced into Lucius’s eyes. Almost effortlessly, he sifted through Lucius’s insane thoughts and plucked out what he was searching for.
“Everyone…” murmured Voldemort after a moment, speaking to himself. Lucius attempted to get into an upright position on the ground, in order to nurse the bone that had broken in his arm. Snape dared not move, let alone help the fallen Death Eater.
Suddenly, as if he had just recognized who was lying on the ground before him, Voldemort stood, and then bent down to get a better look at Lucius’s face.
Lucius had managed to prop himself up on his unbroken arm. His face was skewered into an expression of grim pain. Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. “My lord…” he gasped, “my arm… it’s broken. Please…”
There was silence. Then Voldemort spoke, the faintest hint of a twisted smile creeping into his pale features.
“Do you know what your boy Draco has done, Lucius?”
Lucius groaned, although whether out of physical pain or anxiety of what was to come was uncertain. Again, he didn’t answer.
Voldemort stood up. Only the utmost contempt remained in his eyes as he watched his pitiful servant trembling before him. “He failed me.” The Dark Lord spat out the word ‘failed’ as if it was poisonous. “You’ve been a loyal servant to me for quite some time now. Surely you are aware of what happens when one of my own fails me?”
Lucius’s whimpers became louder, and his body shook. He seemed to be trying to say something. His eyes darted to the side, throwing a helpless look at Snape, bottom lip quivering.
Again, Voldemort bent down to look into the eyes of his servant. His face twisted into an expression of sheer hatred. “I wonder if the boy thought he should follow his father’s lead. After all, you managed to fail me before as well…” he hissed.
Lucius shuddered, as if he had been physically hit. Immediately, he began to plead. “M-m-my lord, I couldn’t… the Ministry came—it was…”
“Crucio.”
Lucius cried out in agony as a thousand white-hot knives were driven into his flesh. His body fell flat onto the ground and twitched fiercely, broken arm lying next to him. “You failed...” Voldemort’s voice was a dangerously low hiss. His eyes were flashing with anger. “and you will be punished for it.”
Lucius moaned between pained sobs. Voldemort stood up. “You know, Lucius…” he said, drawing his wand. “I’m going to kill him, too.”
“N-n-no… NO! PLEASE!” The word was reduced to broken sobs for a moment.
“Avada Kedavra!”
There was a flash of sickly green light, and Lucius Malfoy was dead.
-----------------
Thanks to everyone for their good words! 😄
It's short, yeah. What can I say? School sucks. 😛