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DEATH EATERS AT THE MALFOY ESTATE
Episode 1: The Boiler Room, Part 2
"Helleeeeuw!" exclaimed the platinum blonde head of Narcissa Vontaine. She stepped fully into the room, all smiles and woodchips, her hair done in a neat and solid pile atop her skull. The glitter of her ruby earrings emphasized the blinding white gleam of her teeth. On one hand gleaned a single serpent's eye diamond in an engagement setting.
"Oh God," Severus heard Myra mutter. "It's the Thing."
Narcissa smiled as she descended the small staircase to the lab floor. "Hello there Severus, and, um..." her eyes fell upon Myra, "...Severus's little friend. I ran out of facial regenerator and Lucius told me you had some extra lying about, so I thought I'd come down here and offer to take it off your hands. So I can put it on my face." She laughed in a high squeal, as though she has just made the funniest pun in history.
Severus clenched his jaw, trying to retain his calm. Had it been anyone else he would have slammed her face into the wall, but he knew well that Lord Malfoy considered Narcissa as his daughter.
He rubbed his eyes. "Facial regenerator? Of course. Myra, could you please fetch that for Miss Vonatine?"
"Soon to be Mrs. Lucius Malfoy," Narcissa giggled, waving her ring at Myra, who shook her head as she unlocked a cabinet and began to dig on the lowest shelf. Severus began to stir the cauldron again, flipping pages in a potions spellbook, trying as best he could to ignore the glimmering princess before him.
"Oh Severus," Narcissa sighed, "I look just awful today, don't you think?"
He bit the inside of his lip. Hard. "You're as lovely as always, Narcissa."
Her eyes lit up. "Really?"
"Oh. Yes. Definitely." He filled a beaker and turned some more pages in the book.
"Oh, come now. I've got such awful skin and my hair's all out of place. I'm an absolute terror!" She looked at the floor, then raised her eyes in a coy and vulpine manner. "You don't really think I look as lovely as always, do you?"
Some of the contents of a beaker spilled as Severus poured it. 'Shit," he muttered.
Narcissa looked a bit taken aback.
"Yes yes," he said, then glanced quickly up at her. 'You're a sight to behold."
"You think so? Honestly?"
He put the empty beaker down on the table a little too hard, glaring at her. "Yes, Narcissa, you are a flawless vision of crystalline, unchangeable beauty. You're a china doll, Aphrodite herself, the breath of spring after a long and frigid winter. Your very presence would induce a long-dead corpse to rise again to admire even for a single second your awesome and unequivocal perfection."
There was a pause. Her jaw fell slightly agape, hand held over her heart. 'Severus, that...that was the most wonderful thing anyone has ever said to me. I'm...I...I had no idea you were so..." her eyes trailed along his chest and shoulders, played on his face, "poetic."
She smiled.
A scowling Myra pushed past Severus, nearly shoving the bottle of facial regenerator into Narcissa's chest. "Here," she barked.
"Oh, thank you." Her eyes lingered on Severus for a moment before she turned to Myra. She cocked her head as though admiring a curious insect. "Dear, you look a touch puffy under the eyes. When I get like that I use a coconut meat compress for about fifteen minutes." She lowered her voice to a secretive whisper. "It works."
"Thanks for the tip," Myra said dryly.
"Of course dear, I'm always here for those in need. Well, I best be going. Thank you again." She gave a slight nod and a cool smile. "Severus."
"Narcissa." He had turned back to his cauldron, absorbed in a book.
Myra crossed her arms and glowered at him.
It took hum fully forty five seconds to notice. 'What?"
"Tell me you didn't mean all that."
He snorted. "Don't be silly. There are few things I wouldn't say to get her to shut up. Now let's get to work."
Five and a half hours later.
The beaker fell out of focus, into focus.
Severus shakily mixed it with an ammonia solvent.
Into focus.
He took a small black pebble from a nearby jar, dropped it in, waited for the fizz.
Out of focus.
There was a sizzling sound. Throbbing yellow blur.
Into focus.
The beaker was fuzzing over.
"Shit," Severus muttered. He reached down for the dragon hide gloves that were usually hooked to his belt and found them missing. He patted his robe's pockets - nothing but the feel of the instruments he usually kept there, the circular hardness of a small scale, the nub of a thermometer. A wave of exhaustion moved through him.
He looked about for them and spied them on Myra's hands. They were flat on the table before her, between them an empty vial. Her head lolled ungracefully to one side, eyelids drooping. She rocked forward slightly in her seat.
He slammed his hand on the table. "Myra!"
"Jesus!" she jumped, her eyes wide. "Christ...did I fall asleep?"
He shot her a look of pure venom.
"I'm sorry Severus, I just -"
"I haven't slept in days either, but you don't see me crashing, do you now?" With that he turned to another cauldron and slammed his shin against a table leg. Hard.
"Bloody bugger!" he cried, hunching over the leg. .."
"Sever-"
"I'm fine, leave me alone. Bloody fucking table."
"Just jumped right out at you, didn't it?"
"Exactly. Check B Cauldron, will you, for film? Bugger."
She did. There was none. When she looked back at him her face folded into an expression of sympathy. "You look as tired as I feel," she said softly. Severus detected an undertone of maternity in her voice. He was too exhausted to resist its odd lull, and the determined visage he wore fell. He couldn't get up from the floor. He ached.
He looked to the couch. The soft, green, inviting couch. Sleep on me, it purred, bury your face in my pliant, breast-like pillows. I want you, Severus. We need each other.
"Oh God, yes," he said.
"Hm?"
His head snapped. "Nothing at all. No, no, this won't do, Myra. This won't do. We have to remain awake." He watched her for a moment as she weaved on her feet, nearly fell. "Awake, awake, AWAKE!"
"Mrg. Ug. Stop yelling." She held a hand to her head, used the other to balance herself on a table.
He rose, with some, effort, to his feet, looked at her, then limped to a cabinet.
"What are you doing?"
"Drastic times," he said, pulling a few bottles out of the cabinet, "call for drastic substances."
"What are you making?"
"A little concoction I made great use of in my later years at Hogwarts. The testing is quite intense in the Seventh year. Requires one to stay awake. If one is studious. It's a stimulant commonly referred to as Hype."
She watched as he combined the three ingredients into a jar and stirred them with a glass mixer. Together they turned a swirling purple gray. From a drawer underneath the table he took a circular brass mold, about the size of a tennis ball. With a click a small hole opened in the top. He poured the concoction in, sealed it, and placed it on the table.
His wand tapped against it with a sharp little "clink".
"Hyperious!" he said.
There was a crisp sound, something instantly solidifying. The brass mold clicked open a crack; Severus opened it the rest of the way to reveal a white globe with the consistency of talc. This he placed in a bowl and crushed into a fine dust. He removed a small capful, dumped it on a glass plate, and with a separator carefully arranged it into a precise and perfect line.
He looked at Myra, bags under his eyes. "Do you want to go first or shall I?"
She held a cuticle torn finger to her mouth, hesitant. "I...er, what are the effects of this?"
"It's a stimulant," he replied impatiently.
"I know that, but...how does it make you feel?"
"Awake."
She gave him a pleading look.
He sighed. "Sweaty palms, rapid heartbeat, accelerated thought. Other than that it's different for everyone."
"What is it like for you?"
He paused. "Well...when I was a student I always made sure only to use it when I could be alone to study. Otherwise I'd get distracted."
"Why?"
"Hype makes me...a bit chatty."
Half an hour later Myra wore Severus's goggles, leaning over Cauldron C, two beakers in each hand, controlling a heat petal with one foot, working a pressure pump with the other, her wand held precariously, like a cigarette, between her index and middle finger. Her hands shook slightly. She chewed her lip, her tongue, stuck the pink end out of her mouth, pulled it back in.
"Fuckity fuck fuck fuck," she said. Her jaw vibrated slightly. "Fuck. Fuck-fuck. This isn't coming along fast enough. Severus. Fuck."
Severus wasn't listening. He giddily slit a live mouse from anus to throat and poked around for its heart. 'Once Siruis, may he r - r - rot in hell, was wandering the school campus as that mongrel. M-most likely to show off to his little Gryffindor clique, may they die of syphllis, to show that he could d-do it. He was b-busy being pet and doted up-pon by a group of first year girls, looking so proud with those doggy dogy doggy eyes. Have I t-t-told you this story? I informed the girl that this was a p-professor's dog named Tender Lumpling, and that it might be best if I were to secure him to a t-t-tree in case the Professor was looking for him. He couldn't revert, every one in the courtyard would s-s-see him! He had to stay there till nightf-f-fall. Oh, it was glorious, Myra, g-glorious. Are you listening to me?"
"Fuck. Shitfuck," Myra replied. She stirred both cauldrons at once, tapping her foor. She looked at her watch. "My God."
He happily mashed the warm mouse heart in a bowl with crushed sage and and quail egg. "You know, I gave some serious thought to p-purchasing a rifle and hunting down 'Prongs' - I could make it look like a mere hunting accident. Rid of b-bloody James Potter and it would be c-c-ompletely legal. 'Just huntin' d-deer, sir!'"
"Severus-" she bit her lip and hopped a little.
He poured the mixture into the cauldron. It fizzled and sent off a sulphorous stink. "I c-c-could have done Sirius too...b-but sir, the dog attacked me, I had to cut off it's head!"
"SEVERUS!"
"What?"
"This isn't fast enough! Look at my watch!"
"Oh d-dear. You're r-right." His teeth chattered.
"We'll run out of time! The Dark Lord will kill us! I'm not going fast enough, you're not going fast enough! We need more Hype!" She rushed to the table and took another capful of powder. She sloppily spilled it on the glass plate, looking at Severus. "Hurry!"
It was two in the morning and a deafening sound was pounding from the basement of the Malfoy Estate. Barty Crouch Jr. was found, roused, and sent to discover its source. As he got closer he realized it was music...drums...coming from the lab.
There were words.
Here comes Johnny M again...with liquor and drugs, and the flesh machine...he's gonna do another strip tease...
Barty cocked his head, pulling his satin nightshirt close around his body. The potions door loomed before him. Hot air blew out from under it, warming his toes.
Hey man, where'd you get that lotion? I've been hurting since I bought the gimmick...of something called love, yeah something called love, well that's like hypnotizing chickens.....
Beneath the music he heard two voices, talking, animated, bouncing back and forth like a tennis ball. The Potionmasters, babbling like two teenaged girls. He reached for the hot doorknob. He turned it and opened the door. What he saw astonished him.
Thirteen cauldrons burned at full heat in a ring around the lab, making the room unbearably hot. Books of spells lay strewn haphazardly about the place, empty beakers turned on their sides, broken glass. Symbols and incanations were written on every availible surface - chalkboards, walls. The empty husks of ten disemboweled mice were in a pile on a counter; Barty gasped and jumped away from them.
Well I'm just a modern guy....
In the middle off the room now stood some sort of...contraption. Beakers and burned and cauldrons and pipes, all hooked together into a baffling maze of glass and stone. Substances boiled and bubbled, traveling from pipe to pipe, beaker to beaker. From behind it he heard the gabbing voices of Severus and Myra. He saw her step out from behind the contraption, wearing nothing but a modest camisole and pair of thin white shorts, her hair in a lopsided poof on the side of her head. Every muscle in her body was tense, her teeth gritted. She held numerous bottles and bounced on the balls of her feet.
"Cobra's blood, I know, I know, I know, I know..."
"Reads f-f-f-f-fifteen thousand...we n-n-n-need need need a bl-l-l-oody Sarus, M-Myra, go." She rushed off - ran - to a cabinet. Severus emerged from behind the contraption, hunched, wearing an undershirt that revealed a thin yet firm frame, and long, thin black pants that tied at the waist. His hair had been twisted into a wiry knot at the nape of his neck., around which hung three pairs of goggles. He busily mixed things together in one of the many vials connected to the contraption. His foot tapped to the music. His teeth chattered. His eyes were afire.
"Um," Barty said, loud enough to be heard over the music. Severus jumped.
"W-w-w-w-what!?" he yelled . 'What? What?"
"What!?" Myra called from across the lab. "What are you whatting?"
"What?" he replied to Myra.
"Did you say what?"
"I said what what! Why?"
"What?"
They held each other's gaze for one furious moment, then both turned to Barty.
"WHAT!?" they demanded.
"Lord Malfoy wanted you to turn the music down," he said quickly. 'That's all. I'll go. Um...what is that thing? No, nevermind, I'll go."
"We invented it," Severus suddenly gushed. He shook all over, eyes red. "We inv-vented it. It's b-beautiful." He mixed three things together, grabbed something out of a little cage, threw it sqealing into a cauldron. "We INVEN-N-NTED it. It's beautiful. So sh-hut your mouth. We could make m-money off this. Lots money off this. So. So So So." He twitched, eyes wet and sharp.
Myra suddenly rushed Barty, shaking him by the shoulders. "Baaaaaaaaarty! We made that. It's the best thing since a Distillator. A new cycle system. It gets everything done ten times as f-fast." She took his face in her hands. "Everything is clear, B-Barty, so clear, you don't understand-" her eyes were full of sweat, the edges of her lips turning blue. She pushed his eyebrows up with her thumbs. "The world is in my head, Barty. everything...that was out there...is in here...oh god. Oh god. It's coming. Oh god." She suddenly threw her head back and let out a cry, a terrible, wrenching sob.
"Stop t-t-t-that!" Severus yelled. He held three vials and beaker, all which were shaking. The viens in his neck pulsed, his face a deep vermillion. "B-arty, you sodomy-r-r-riddled nancy, g-get out of my l-l-ab, or I'll sh-ove this ent-t-tire cy-cle system into your willing r-rectum, which I'm s-sure wouldn't p-pose pose much of a ch-challenge." Some of whatever was in the beaker spilled over his hand.
Myra sank to the floor, her arms around Barty's legs, sobbing.
"You have to turn off the music!" he yelled back, wide-eyed. "Lord Malfoy!"
"SILENCIUS!" Severus shrieked into the lab, and all of a sudden it was deathly quiet. No sounds but the bubbling cauldrons and Myra's heavy sobs.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"I need more," she moaned into Barty's shin.
"Do w-w-what you have to do," Severus replied. He rubbed his nose, then looked longingly at a glass plate on a counter. His eyes flashed to Barty, and in a quick motion threw a beaker at him, which exploded against the far wall. "GET OUT!"
In a panic, the boy wrenched the sobbing Myra off him. He ran out and closed the door in just enough time to see her stumble over to the counter and lean her face in close, Severus close behind.
Seven hours later, at nine in the morning, there came a trimphant shout from the lab, follwed by a high pitched, awful wail.
At ten, a pair of delicate white hands stroked a cashmere blouse.
"This," purred a low, silken voice, 'is exquisite."
The same hands ran through long, straight black hair, shaking it back into place. The fall of hair down the white, smooth back was like an oil slick on an alabaster floor. The ends passed his hips, just barely brushed the taut curve of his black vinyl - covered ass. An ass like a young girl. Lucius bit his lip.
The dark angel before him turned, holding the blouse to his chest. He smiled with his perfectly shaped lips, the corner of which was dotted with some of the dark eye makeup he had let run down his face in gray tear-trails.
"What do you think?' he asked Lucius. "Does it make me look fat?"
He moved his hips a bit, and smiled. His voice was the slightest bit muffled. Blocked.
"Of- o f course not, my Lord," Lucius stuttered. "Nothing-"
"Of COURSE it doesn't make me look FAT! I'm the DARK LORD. EVERYTHING looks good on me. We all know that." He sniffed and began to laugh a bit. 'Don't we now? Hm? I want to hear you say it, Lucius, precious, you slick little twat substitute. Say it!"
"Say what, my m-master?"
"Say everything looks good on me," he sneered.
"Everything looks good on you!"
Voldemort smiled. "Yes. It does. Because I am the Dark Lord."
From out of the shadows emerged a freakishly tall, thin house elf. He had a long face and a dour expression. He bowed to Voldemort, holding out a sumptuous blood red velvet robe. "My Lord, the Potionmasters have arrived with the requested mixture. Shall I make ready?"
"Yes, thank you Martino. And grab me the dragon hide hat as well."
"The one with the blue gecko streak, my Lord?'
"No, Martino, the one that goes with this. What on earth are you thinking?"
"I apologize, my Lord. I shall flog myself at the nearest convenience." He bowed and faded back into the shadows.
"Dry old fellow," Lucius commented.
"Quiet. I have more respect for him than I have for you."
They stood outside the door to Voldemort's main chamber. Severus had a death grip on the opulent, bejeweled silver flagon that contained the potion. If he dropped it, he would put his wand into his mouth and perform a Sudden Projectile Spell.
Next to him Myra weaved on her feet, barely conscious. With joyous shout he had shakily poured the very last of the finally-finished potion into the flagon. Myra has collapsed to the floor, heaving, moaning that everything was in her eyes and her evil couldn't get out. Her evil, her evil, she wouldn't stop talking about her evil. Finally he had yelled at her, declaring that they all had evil, and she would get to know his personally if she didn't get the hell off the floor and get dressed.
She had stumbled to her feet, and her face had made Severus's heart skip in alarm. Ghostly white with blue lips. She couldn't stand for very long, and she soon fell again to her knees. He had given her a restorative, but not a very strong one. He wasn't a mediwizard, and he had no idea how much Hype she had taken - a strong restorative might have exabertaed her condition. He had had to dress her, pulling her thick robe on over he bare shoulders, the thin camisole, against which pressed rather voluminous breasts.
"Quite an im-impressive rack you h-have there, Myra," he had said.
"Shhh. Shhh, you, shhh," her teeth chattered. "Need more Hype."
"I think not," he whispered, clasping her robe about her neck.
The restorative seemed to have worked fine - she was now hyper-aware, eyes wide and unblinking, back rigid, waiting, - but it could go at any time. She was awake but barely conscious. He himself was on the verge of collapse. He thought with near fetish of the green couch.
On the way to Voldemort's chambers, he has seen Narcissa in front of a mirror licking her arm. He stared for a moment, brow folded, before the guard moved him on.
A guardwizard bowed to them and opened the door to the main chamber. There Voldemort sat, on a throne of gilded skulls, his legs thrown over one arm, his elbow resting on the other. He wore dreadfully thick and velvety red robes, and a dragon's hide cowboy hat with a single huge vermillion feather poking out of the band. Lucius was at his side.
The Dark Lord greeted the pair with a huge, toothy smile.
"Hello babies," he grinned. "What have you brought Daddy?"
Severus knelt before him. Myra remained standing, dazed, unaware of the dark look Voldemort gave her. Severus pulled at her robe. She stumbled to one knee.
He held out the bejeweled flagon. "The potion you requested, my Lord. I only hope it meets your expectations." The flagon was removed from his hands by the tall house elf, who took it to the corner and poured it into a ruby goblet.
"My expectations?" Voldemort sniffed. "You took far too long."
"We have delivered it in two days, sir, as was ordered."
"When I say I want something in TWO days, I want it in ONE! You must go beyond the call of duty for your Lord, you insolent prick. Don't expect any great praise from me. On time is too late." He seemed to be about to say something else, but he suddenly released a loud, unceremonious sneeze.
"Bless you, my Lord."
Voldemort narrowed his eyes at Lucius, pointed his wand, and uttered, "Cruicio."
Lucius fell to the floor, contorted with pain, mouth open in a silent scream. Voldemort regarded him with a dark smirk, then turned to Severus and Myra. "Says 'bless you'. Can you believe that? It's gesundheit. As though that little git could bless me. Imagine." He rolled his eyes as the elf delivered the goblet. "Thank you, Martino. Could you do me a favor and give Lucius a little kick in the side, if you have the chance?"
"My legs are like pine needles, my Lord."
Voldemort considered this. "That would make it even funnier, though, wouldn't it? Ah well. Another time then, if you're not in the mood."
Severus looked at Lucius, who flipped on his back, spasming like a suffocating fish. A cold dribble of fear worked its way down his throat. If the potion was of less than perfect quality, he was sure that was what he would be doing in a moment.
Myra chose that moment to fall flat on her face.
"What on earth is wrong with that one?" Voldemort snuffed.
Severus tried not to panic. "Exhaustion, my Lord."
Voldemort pointed his wand at Myra. "Awake."
She leapt to her knees. "My LORD!"
His eyebrows raised. "I would throw a Critatious at you, but you really look like hell," he said, then sneezed again. "Wow. Have you tried a coconut compress?"
"Gesundheit, my Lord!," Myra yelled, as through responding to a drill sergeant.
He gave her a nod. He sniffed, long and hard, a legendary sound that filled the chamber. Lucius flipped on his stomach, tearing at his white-blonde hair, pants creaking.
"Ugh, God, let's get this over with. Martino?"
The elf delivered a shot glass filled with clear liquid the Voldemort, who snuffed out a thanks. "You took far too long with this, ugh. God." He dumped the contents of the shot glass into the goblet.
Severus blinked as he realized what the clear liquid had been.
Vodka.
No, he thought.
Both he and Myra watched, entranced, as Voldemort downed the contents of the goblet, then winced, wiping his mouth with his hand. "Oh, this tastes bloody awful." He sucked a deep breath in through his nose. "But...my sinuses are clear. Well then. Good work. You're dismissed."
Severus and Myra remained on their knees, disbelieving.
"You may go," Voldemort said. "LEAVE!"
They were escorted out by the guardwizard.
"Severus," Myra whispered, stumbling over her robe. "Severus, I'm going to cry."
"Shhh," he replied.
She suddenly grasped his hand, squeezed.
"Come now, Martino," they heard Voldemort says before the door closed. "Just one little kick in the ribs? For me?"
Severus saw Myra back to her room. He made sure she collapsed onto the bed, not the floor, before he left to shut down the lab completely. He felt oddly light. The devastation probably wouldn't hit him until he'd had a good sleep. He planned to sleep for days. For weeks.
He lit a cigaette and let the sweet nicotine rush through his viens.
When he got to the lab, Dobby was there, waiting for him with a roll of parchment.
"From Mr. Malfoy," the house elf said.
Severus opened it.
sev-
Need first batch day after tomorrow. creditors. you understand.
thanks.
lucius.
The roll of parchment fell from Severus's hand to the floor. After a moment, he joined it.
And the noonday sun rose, blazing, over the Malfoy Estate.
THE END