Vacillation and Volition, Chapter Three
Title: Vacillation and Volition, Chapter Three: Abduction and Affection
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Lucas Malory (OC), Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Charlie Weasley
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3,691
Author's Note: To read this story from the beginning, please click here.
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Purity and pride, patrimony and power.
Lucas flipped the coin over once more, and mouthed the motto to himself. He didn’t have to read it; the words had been forever etched onto his mind since he had first dared to unpocket the coin on the mainland. There, where the afternoon mist softened the outlines of London, the translation had come to him.
Was this what heritage felt like? He thought he should have known the sensation, having been lectured on the history of the Malorys since before he could remember. But this was different. He was a Malory, for sure, but no whole thing was ever made without two halves. Lucas caught the coin, snatching it from the pull of gravity. His fingers closed around the gold and his eyelids over grey irises. The item seemed to be a part of him, like an extra heart beating against his palm, pumping belonging through his veins. Mal-foy, Mal-foy, Mal-foy, it whispered. A seductive voice, one that could kindle longing within any soul.
Lucas saw it. He had known at once, instinctively, what the coin could do to him. And yet he let it. Most cautiously, he treaded out of reach of its complete possession, all while trying to figure out his father and the workings of a Malfoy mind. It was a game, a test, a torture, and Lucas could not recall ever being so amused and astounded.
Abruptly, his eyes snapped open and he reached up to put the coin on the crimson velvet of an old jewellery box. Curious he was, and perhaps also enchanted, but definitely not stupid. Stifling a yawn, he rolled over on the bed and stared into the light of a streetlamp outside the tall window.
It had grown late while he played with the coin. Lucas had not felt like Apparating back to Merridown after such an overwhelming day. Instead, had chosen to travel the short distance to his grandfather’s London flat. It was comfortable enough, but lacked the familiarity of the country estate. Nothing was missing - Lucas had raided the kitchen cupboards after his arrival and found them well stocked - and yet he thought it had the personality of an empty shoebox. It smells quite like one too, Lucas mused to himself where he lay, sleep rapidly overpowering his consciousness. No longer possessing the strength to keep them open, lids fluttered shut over his exhausted eyes. A moment later, the streetlamp silently went out, its light stolen by the deep darkness of the night.
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Thud.
Tangled up in a dream-web of gravestones and golden coins, it took Lucas a moment to realise what the sound had been - reality. Once sure that he wasn’t mistaken, he began to fight his way through the depths of sleep. Eyes still closed, he reached for his wand and simultaneously opened his heart to scan the apartment for any alien emotions. As he had expected, there were plenty. He was not alone.
Not sensing any particular anger or hostility, Lucas withdrew. Eyes open and prying blindly into the darkness, he rose from the mattress without a sound and backed towards the wardrobe, wand pointing steadily in the direction of the bedroom door. But to his great surprise, a lamp was turned on in the corridor outside, and voices were heard.
“What are you -” the first voice hissed before being interrupted.
“It doesn’t matter. You’ve made sure he already knows we’re here.”
A fist knocked smartly on the door three times. Lucas hesitated only for a moment. “Yes?” he shouted, not lowering his wand.
“Please forgive us for intruding on such an early hour, but we must speak with you. It’s urgent; can we come in?”
Lucas suspected that they would, with or without his consent, but he did not fancy being walked in on when wearing only a pair of flannel trousers. Turning on the lights with a flick of his wand, he replied:
“I would rather meet you in the living room. Give me just one moment.”
Silence followed his request, so he hurried to put on a white shirt. It was creased, but would at least cover his naked chest. He found a robe too, deep green, and pulled it over his head to let it pool around his bare feet. Feeling slightly less exposed to the elements and whatever new bothers that waited outside, he summoned all of his strength and opened the door, wand at the ready.
In the corridor were not, as he had expected, Death Eaters in their customary black cloaks, but a wizard with a polite smile on his face and a witch in Muggle clothing. Neither of them held a wand in their hands. Slightly taken aback, Lucas lowered his defences a little and raised his eyebrows in an inquiring expression. The wizard, however, offered no formal greeting but simply asked, “You mentioned a living room? Let us talk in there.”
Perplexed, Lucas nodded and led the way to the living room where the remains of the evening fire still glowed on the hearth. Gesturing numbly, he offered the strangers a seat in the velvet-covered chairs, which they took. He sat down on the opposite side of the glass table, saw how they exchanged a quick glance, but spoke before either of them got a chance to open their mouths.
“Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
The witch smiled, and for a moment Lucas thought he recognised her, but it was the man who replied.
“Before I explain, Mr Malory, let me again apologise for barging in on you like this. But there are certain people who wouldn’t have been overjoyed to know that we are visiting you, so we thought it better to come here at night.” The man paused and nodded thoughtfully before continuing. “We are the Order of the Phoenix. My name is Remus Lupin, and this,” he gestured at the witch, “is Miss Tonks. We have come to see you concerning your visit to Azkaban yesterday.”
Uneasiness pulsated through Lucas, but unlike the Death Eaters, Mr Lupin and Miss Tonks did not frighten him at all. And the shortage of fear, he found, left plenty of room for annoyance. “What about my visit to Azkaban, Mr Lupin?”
“We were told that you visited your father. Is that correct?”
“Yes. Why?”
Mr Lupin’s gaze was steady and he did not seem offended by Lucas’ bluntness. “We believe that Mr Malfoy wouldn’t hesitate to use you to help him escape from the prison. Did he make any such request, Mr Malory?”
“If he did, would I be telling complete strangers about it?”
“A question rarely receives an answer if not asked,” Mr Lupin observed. “But naturally, I see your point. The reason I’m asking is that if Mr Malfoy did, and you agreed or are considering on agreeing, we have a problem on our hands. Malfoy’s actions as a Death Eaters have resulted in several deaths and broken families, and our Order cannot sit idly by and watch while he returns to Lord Voldemort’s side.”
Fear flickered for a moment in Lucas’ heart upon hearing the name, but he did not show it with as much as a twitch. He tried to force his exhausted mind to focus on the problem at hand, and quickly came to an uncomfortable realisation.
“Mr Lupin, I’m not sure what you want with this conversation. If I say yes and confirm your suspicions, what happens then? And if I say no, I can’t imagine that you would simply believe me and just leave me be?”
Lupin looked surprised, but nodded approvingly just as the witch began to speak.
“You’re right, Malory. Remus here is just trying to break it to you as politely as possible, but the truth is that we’re going to have to take you with us.”
“And what if I would rather not?” Lucas challenged, trying to ignore the prickle of déjà vu at the back of his neck.
“Tonks, believe it or not, is a fully qualified Auror,” Lupin said and ignored the witch’s glare, “and having worked for the Order for a significant time and also taught Defence Against the Dark Arts, I consider myself accomplished enough to escort you away from here. But we’re not brutal, and you will not be imprisoned. We ask that you quickly pack some necessities and come with us quietly. The location we have in mind is quite comfortable and you will be treated like a guest.”
Lucas sighed deeply. “You’re telling me that I don’t have a choice in the matter?”
“Yes - but try not to think about it that way. Do you really want to make this choice, Mr Malory? I can’t believe for a moment that a young wizard like yourself would throw his life away by aiding a convicted Death Eater. However, I can understand that you would like to avoid the consequences of not helping your father. But by coming with us, you’re not choosing not to help him, are you? Who could blame you, even among the Death Eaters, when you were ruthlessly kidnapped by the Order of the Phoenix?”
The witch called Tonks snorted at that, and Lucas felt the corners of his mouth twitch. He could easily see why this man, Remus Lupin, would think that such a speech would apply to his rationality and reason. They weren’t really here to abduct him, but to offer protection and shelter. If it could be called an offer; Lucas knew that they were perfectly serious on the point of forcing him to come along, should he refuse. Curious for a moment about his own psychological development, Lucas thought about how a week ago he would have welcomed the freedom from choices, and how it now had begun to bother him. It wasn’t that he wanted to rush to Lucius’ aid, no, he wasn’t even interested in visiting Malfoy Manor, but suddenly he missed the power to choose. That power, which Lucius had so readily given him at Azkaban. Sighing, Lucas rubbed his forehead and looked at Mr Lupin.
“How would we be travelling?”
“Apparating. Side-Along for you, of course, and then by brooms. Are you an accomplished flier?”
“Decent enough.” A moment of silence followed, during which Lucas did not attempt to make a decision, but rather tried to accept his sudden lack of options. Barely suppressing a sigh, he soon acknowledged the new, inevitable turn of events. “All right. I’m going to pack.”
“Good,” Lupin nodded, slight relief passing over his worn features. “Bring only what you need for a day or two; we can send for things from your estate later.”
“Very well.” He stood up and turned around, pretending not to have seen the look, one of accomplishment and success, that passed between the witch and the wizard.
Lucas left the living room deep in thought. Walking through the apartment, it never occurred to him to escape by Disapparating or through the Floo network. He thought that it was the old passivity, the one that had so often immobilised him in the past, that led his feet so obediently through the corridor. But if Lucas had ever experienced the feeling before, he might have recognised the tremble of curiosity that touched his mind.
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Confused not only by a lengthy Side-Along Apparation but also two straight hours of flying, he had not the slightest idea of where they were. Gradually, as the sky turned a lighter shade of bluish black in one direction, the four cardinal points began to reveal themselves to him. As far as he could tell, they had been travelling north. Though, seeing as they had left from London, ‘north’ was a rather vast and varied direction in which to head.
His fingers gripped numbly around the handle of an old Nimbus, while his body protested against the cold and the oncoming ache he would be suffering from for a few days, not having flown in far too long. He was tempted to pull out his wand and perform a Warming Charm, but Mr Lupin had expressively asked that he didn’t use magic for the entire journey. He seemed to be doing all right, and so did the witch, Tonks. Lucas had made a few indecent attempts at examining their feelings, but their hearts were closed to him, as if by some kind of emotional Occlumency.
Dawn was almost upon them when Tonks finally began to descend. Before them lay an open area at the end of a narrow road, and Lucas guessed that a building stood there, hidden by layers upon layers of protective spells. When his feet hit the ground he could not stop the slight groan that escaped him, but his escort didn’t seem to have noticed. Mr Lupin collected the three brooms, neatly shrunk them to twig-size and pocketed them. Wordlessly, he gestured towards the road, and Lucas took the first step towards their invisible destination. Morning birds welcomed them as they walked along through the crisp, clear air, and for a moment Lucas felt elated, almost like when his mother had brought him along for mysterious excursions in the wilderness of their land. They were far from fear and despair and Dementors now, he felt, and the peace of this place was intoxicating almost to the point where he could forget all about the worries that had infested his life as of late. Reality, however, was literally knocked back into his head as he collided with some transparent wall of protection. Lupin cursed under his breath and gripped Lucas’ arm to pull him back, while Tonks covered her face, quite obviously hiding a giggle.
“Hilarious, I’m sure,” Lucas muttered and touched his nose; it was bleeding.
“I’m sorry,” Tonks grinned. “It’s just that it’s usually me who does things like that.”
Lupin rolled his eyes ever so slightly and handed Lucas a handkerchief. Lucas gave it a disapproving look before accepting it and pushing it against his nose to stop the bleeding.
“Just for a moment, Mr Malory. As you discovered, we’re at the gate - forgive me, I shouldn’t have forgotten that it’s invisible to you.”
Lucas just grunted, the metal taste of blood in his mouth erasing all pleasant thoughts of peace and forcefully reminding him of his general discomfort.
“Please ring the bell?” Lupin said to Tonks, who nodded and, supposedly, did so.
No sound was audible to Lucas, but a moment later a house-elf appeared out of nowhere.
“Master Lupin,” it squeaked, “we has been expecting you. Mistress was taken ill with a vicious cold and is gone to St Mungo’s, but her great-nephew is still here.”
“Aw, poor Mrs Prewitt, sick again. But let us go inside. Mr Malory -”
Lupin took hold of Lucas’ upper arm again; if this was simply to guide his steps, or necessary to grant him passage through the Fidelius Charm that he was sure must be protecting the place, Lucas didn’t know. But as soon as he had passed through the gate, he was able to glance back and make it out: tall, black iron, flanked by an endless stone wall that disappeared into the woods in both directions. Looking ahead of him, he was pleased to take in the view of a proper English farm. There were several barns and smaller houses, all elegantly framing the main building. It wasn’t extraordinary and it wasn’t Merridown, but it was much bigger and far better than Lucas had dared to hope for. When his eyes had had a proper taste of the scene, he pulled out his wand and wordlessly mended his nose. Cleaning the handkerchief with another flick of the wand, he gave it back to Remus.
Five stone steps led them up to a set of doors with glass windows, and the house-elf bowed as they entered. A spotless hall appeared inside, and Lucas was momentarily distracted by the sight of extremely out-of-fashion wallpapers and two rows of moving portraits.
“This is it then,” Lupin said and extended his hand. “I need to return to London, but Tonks will show you to your room. Thank you for cooperating so nicely, Mr Malory,” he finished with a discrete wink.
Lucas shook his hand; Lupin’s grip was steady and oddly reassuring.
“If you would come this way, Sir,” the house-elf urged as Lupin turned away. Lucas nodded and followed the servant into a larger room, which lay out of reach of the early sunlight and was still dark. A few steps in he realised that the young witch wasn’t with them, so he looked back. She was still in the hall, facing the man, and his hands gently cupped her heart-shaped face. Through the doorframe of the dark room, Lucas saw them as another moving painting, illuminated by the morning light that spilled through the windows in the doors. The man bent down and murmured a word, close to the witch’s ear, before placing a fleeting kiss on her lips. But his hands lingered, one caressing her neck, the other taking its time where his mouth had been so brief. A sudden rush of absolute affection, one which did not belong to him, flooded Lucas’ consciousness. Suddenly aware of his intrusion, he spun around, away from what he had seen. The enchantment broke; all of what he felt was his own, again.
A door opened and closed, and then Tonks was back beside him. A slight blush was on her face, but Lucas made no comment - he was rather distracted by her hair, which had suddenly grown short and was glowing in a blinding shade of pink. With this change he realised where he had recognised her from. They had been at Hogwarts around the same time, if not in the same year.
“You’re a Metamorphmagus?” Lucas asked, mostly to get past the moment of tension, as her ability was perfectly evident.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” she grinned. “Now, while this sitting room is very cosy, I suggest we head downstairs.”
“Downstairs?” he wondered, keeping up with her brisk pace as she walked into the next room.
“Prisoners of war are kept underground, Malory,” Tonks teased as she pulled out her wand.
“Charming.”
He watched as Tonks walked up to a woollen drapery and jabbed it twice with her wand. At her command, it folded itself neatly and revealed a simple door. Behind it was a steep staircase, and Lucas felt the temperature drop several degrees as he followed her down below the ground. A wide, soft-carpeted corridor met them at the bottom, winding its way in two directions from where they stood. Lucas could see a fair numbers of doors before the even line of yellow lamps was broken by the curve of the walls.
“The old lady’s got a right rabbit’s nest down here. We could easily house the whole Order here, if she would only let us. Come on, this way.”
“So how come she’s agreed to letting you keep me here?” Lucas inquired as they walked along.
“Oh, she won’t object to that. In her red-rimmed eyes, you’re a refugee. Having folks like you here makes her feel special and important, I reckon. Not as risky as housing first-class You-Know-Who-opponents, either. Ah, here we are.”
She turned the brass handle of a green door, identical to all of those they had passed. The room they entered was much warmer than the corridor; a generous fire blazed below a marble mantelpiece. It looked to be another sitting room, but combined with a library. Desks and tables stood here and there, and deep leather armchairs were placed haphazardly on the fitted carpet. In one of them, a red-haired man was sitting, his head bent over an enormous volume which he was scribbling in. On his lap rested a ginger cat, flat-faced and fluffy.
“You haven’t been to bed at all, have you?” Tonks spoke loudly, hands on her hips in a disapproving posture.
The man looked up, and his freckled face brightened at once. “Tonks!”
“Wotcher, Charlie,” she laughed. “I can’t believe you’ve been in the library all night! How very out of character for you.”
“Can’t help it,” he grinned in return. “Do you realise that this is the most recent book on common dragons, and that almost all of it is absolute rubbish?”
“Since you’re stuck down here, maybe you should write a book of your own?”
“Maybe I will!”
Tonks snorted. “I would wait until after I’d had some sleep, if I were you. But never mind your dragons now, come meet your new fellow prisoner instead.”
“Aha, is that what he is?” the red-head said and put the book away. Gently transferring the cat to the armchair, he got up and grabbed hold of Lucas’ hand without hesitation. The stranger’s hand was as freckled as his face, and rough with calluses.
“Charlie, this is Lucas Malory. Malory - Charlie Weasley.”
“Welcome, Lucas,” Charlie greeted him, still grinning and shaking his hand.
“Thank you.” Lucas said, unsure of how to address this flame of a man, a little taken aback by how he had automatically used his first name. But, somehow, the idea of him as simply ‘Charlie’ settled nicely in Lucas’ mind. And this Charlie, he thought, seemed unusually open and artless, as if ready to approve of everything and everyone he met.
“Good lads,” Tonks nodded. “Now, I don’t know about you two, but I’m falling asleep in my shoes here. Malory, are you going to stay up with this fanatic, or shall we find you a room?”
“A room, I think.”
“Right-oh. Let’s go, before I collapse. Night, Charlie. Or morning?”
“Sleep well, Tonks,” he smiled. “And you, Lucas.”
Before he closed the door behind him, Lucas caught a glance of Charlie, hurrying to pick up his book again. As he turned to follow Tonks, another ripple of affection disturbed the stillness of his emotions. Compared to what he had felt a little while ago this was nothing; it was barely noticeable, but it was, as he realised with much confusion, entirely his own.
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