Chapter 16
A polished brass serpent adorned the doorknob to Robert Lightwood's office. Its scaled hide felt cold and alien beneath Alec's trembling fingers. Almost as if it were taunting him. The heavy wooden door swung open silently to reveal the bulky mahogany desk that dominated the spacious room. In a worn leather armchair behind the desk sat his father.
Once again, Maryse Lightwood was nowhere to be found, an indication that he was about to receive a harsh scolding. A lively fire danced in the fireplace, creating a stark contrast to the frosty atmosphere. With a heavy heart, Alec entered the study, eyeing the cast-iron poker on the mantelpiece with mounting panic. He clasped his arms behind his back and bowed his head in submission. “You wanted to see me, Father?” he said, voice firm.
Robert Lightwood rose abruptly and stepped out from behind his desk. Even though he was now a few inches shorter than his son, he had lost none of his intimidating authority. Despite the receding hairline and his dull, watery blue eyes, he made Alec divert into the frightened boy who had felt his father's wrath one too many times. The soft click of the lock told him that getting out of this would be impossible. “Alexander,” he ordered, his voice cold. “Look at me when I speak to you.”
Alec nodded mutely and met his father's gaze. He knew it was pointless to disobey his father's orders. Robert took a step towards him, his hot breath grazing Alec's neck. It made Alec want to gag. His father held out his hand expectantly, and Alec surrendered his wand. Merlin forbid, he got the chance to defend himself.
“I assume you know why you're here.” He looked at his son with contempt. “I received a very disturbing letter from your classmate. I won't go into detail, but she comes from a decent family. She seems to possess more duty and honour in her little finger than you do in your entire body. At first I didn't want to believe it. But she kept me informed for weeks until I had to face the truth.”
“Father, I don't understand what you're talking about.” Alec attempted to explain his thoughts in turmoil. How much did he know? Who would write a letter to his father?
“Don't you dare!” Robert spat. His face was bright red and before Alec could even blink, he felt the unforgiving point of a wand at his throat. Now Alec became aware of the blurry black and white photograph that his father was holding up to his face: Magnus was sitting next to him in the great hall, his lips pressed to Alec's cheek.
“Don't act like you haven't brought shame on this family. A muggle-loving half-blood, and a Bane at that, in front of everyone? I hardly recognise you, Alexander. You of all people should know that we cannot attract this kind of attention. Did you even think for a second what this could mean for me and your mother? Who would ever be able to trust us again if we raised a son like this? I thought I made myself clear when I told you that any further misstep would have consequences. Your mother and I have tolerated your ‘friendship’ with Andrew Underhill for years, Alec,” he cleared his throat, sneering, “One would think you could show at least a modicum of gratitude. It seems you have forgotten who you are: semper pura.”
Burning fury flooded through Alec, pushing aside the fear that had previously paralysed him. He straightened up, his hazel eyes blazing with hatred. He had grown accustomed to harsh words about his behavior, but he would not stand for his father slandering the people he cared about. “You have no right to insult my friends like that. You have no right to speak about Magnus this way. I love him and you can't take that away from me. Never.” Merlin, this was the first time he had spoken the words aloud.
“Love? Please.” His father laughed without humour. “If you think, even for a second, that you are more than a diversion for Bane, then you are a greater fool than I thought. Life is not about doing what you want. You have a duty to fulfil. To this family, to the House of Lightwood. One day, you are to be the head of this family, and certainly not with that Bane at your side. I'm giving you a last chance to end this silly affair immediately.” Robert's eyes bore right through him. “And believe me, I won't spare your siblings either if I find out you've continued this nonsense. They should have told me about your disgraceful behaviour a long time ago.”
“Jace and Isabelle had nothing to do with it. They didn't know anything. You're arrogant –” Again, Alec's words died in his throat as he was flung across the room. The air was knocked out of his lungs as he crashed into the solid-oak bookcase with an ugly crack. Like a marionette whose strings had been cut, he slumped to the ground, motionless. The world swam before his eyes.
Warm, sticky blood seeping through his wavy hair. A gasp of pain erupted from his lips as he made a pathetic attempt to rise to his feet. Before Alec had a chance to get his bearings, an invisible hand closed around his throat, yanking him upward with brutal efficiency. His toes scraped across the hardwood floor as he hung in midair. Alec clawed at his throat in a panic, trying to ease the pressure on his neck. Although his eyes were wide open, he could just make out Robert's shadowy form. Alec wanted to scream, to resist, but only a muffled gurgle came over his lips.
“Let this be a lesson to you, son.” The satisfaction in Robert's voice was unmistakable. “Consider this a warning and remember your place in this family. Next time I won't let you get away so easily. After all, we have two other children to place our hopes on. And believe me, if I discover so much as a hair on your head that isn't in the right place, you will face the repercussions. Your mother and I have already chosen a suitable young lady who will give you something else to occupy your time.” Finally, his father lowered his wand, stowing it casually in the pocket of his dark blue robe.
As soon as the invisible hand disappeared around Alec's neck, his knees buckled under his body weight.
Robert Lightwood leaned over his son's limp body, his hand stroking a damp strand of hair from Alec's forehead. His voice was uncharacteristically gentle. “Alexander, please believe me when I tell you that this hurts me as much as it does you. We love you and only want what's best for you. Magnus Bane is using you. It is my duty as a father to protect you.” He stood up straight and squared his shoulders. “Your mother and I are expected in London this evening. I expect you to be on your best behaviour at the Christmas party. Believe me, you don't want to disappoint me again. And get that hair cut, you’re a bloody mess.” With these words he strode across the room. Without giving his son another glance, he stepped out into the hallway.
Struggling for air, Alec listened to the fading footsteps. He ran his hand over the back of his head and winced as a dull pain overcame him. “Merlin,” he said in a hoarse voice. Dark red blood stained his fingertips.
Robert Lightwood was not known for being merciful, but he had never deliberately done anything like this to Alec before. Usually, he was content with cold words and disappointed looks. Anything beyond that was carried out by his mother. Her anger was precise and calculated, not a violent outburst like this. He had been punished countless times, but he always knew what to expect. He could always brace for the pain, measure how long he would have to endure. Even the humiliation of it had become a well practiced ritual, a dance that left nothing more than faint silvery scars on his body. Not this time.
I...have to get out of this room. It didn't help much that he could barely stand upright. Heaving to brace himself against the wall, breathing heavily after every step. Alec wasn't even sure how he had finally dragged himself to the west wing of the house. His head was still spinning, but at least he didn't have to endure the stares of his ancestors behind thick golden frames.
The pain in his chest was threatening to overwhelm him.
“Master Alexander?” a squeaky voice sounded directly in front of him. “Are you all right?” The old house-elf hardly reached above Alec's knees. If he hadn't spoken, Alec might not have noticed him. Badrey studied the young man with round, tennis-ball eyes.
Alec could only manage a strained smile. “Don't worry, Badrey. I just need to rest a little, then I'll be back to normal soon.” His voice sounded more like a croak, his vocal cords protesting vigorously against their use.
“I apologise, but you look as if you're about to collapse. Let me help you,” Badrey replied firmly. He had known the Lightwood children all their lives and would not just stand by and watch Alec torture himself.
“Badrey, I don't want to get you into trouble. My father-” Alec interrupted. Staggering, he grasped the ornate table beside him. The vase on it began to sway precariously.
“-must never know about this,” the house-elf added, grasping Alec's wrist and snapping his fingers. For a split second, Alec had the feeling of being pushed through a narrow tube. The world around him blurred until it took on the shape of his room.
Instead of his disorientation subsiding, like it usually did when he apparated, his stomach contracted painfully and he gasped as he threw up on the polished hardwood floor. Before he could even think of apologising to Badrey, his eyes rolled back and his legs gave out beneath him. Alec didn't notice that he never hit the floor.
*****
He felt the polished wood of the parquet floor under his bare feet, cool and smooth. Pale moonlight fell through the narrow windows and drew intricate patterns on the expensive carpet. He knew that he was not allowed to leave his bed at this late hour.Nevertheless, he couldn't ignore his curiosity. Excitement flowed through his veins, propelling him forward. The brass door knob seemed to attract his gaze and pulled him under its spell. Despite the eerie silence, he couldn't help but turn the handle. The door swung open silently.Before he could see the room behind it, a green light flashed across his vision, burning itself into his retina.
*****
A cup of steaming peppermint tea awaited him when he opened his eyes. Next to it on the bedside table sat a flask of an unknown potion. The fireplace's soft crackling and the subdued sunlight filtering through the curtains bathed the room in a dim light. When Alec tried to turn around, a dull pain radiated from the back of his head. Groaning, he leaned on his forearms and pushed his body into a sitting position. Every muscle in his back protested when he leaned against the chilled wood of the headboard.
Alec's memories of the last evening were hazy at best. Badrey must have dressed him in his pyjamas and bandaged his wounds after he had passed out. Without his support, Alec might have ended up unconscious in one of the house's corridors. He struggled to remember his father's exact words.
Someone had betrayed him, feeding his father information about his relationship with Magnus and even secretly taking photographs of him. Unfortunately, there were enough people at Hogwarts who wanted to see him fail. The thought that his every move was being watched sent a cold shiver down his spine.
His father's demand was crystal clear. If he did not end his relationship with Magnus, both he and his siblings would suffer the consequences. While he was prepared to face his parents' ire, was he willing to sacrifice Jace and Isabelle for his own happiness? Would he be willing to endanger Magnus' future? Magnus, who had studied so hard for his N.E.W.T's, would, with a few cleverly placed words from the Lightwoods, have trouble finding employment.
Every instinct in him revolted against obeying his father. He couldn't lose Magnus, didn't want to live without him. But what was his life compared to the safety of his siblings? Compared to Magnus' safety? He knew full well that if Robert Lightwood had vowed to take revenge, he would not stop until he tasted blood.
Alec's decision was obvious; he could not follow his heart. Isabelle and Jace might not understand, but he was still their big brother. It was his responsibility to keep them safe. And Magnus, Magnus deserved more than a life in fear of Robert Lightwood. Time to wake up from his little dream and face reality. He had clung to the childish hope that he could escape his destiny for far too long. This was the only way he finally had to admit to himself.
Hurting Magnus would shatter his heart. But for the sake of the people he cared about most, he would bear his hatred. Only yesterday he had said his goodbyes to Magnus, but it already felt like an eternity ago.
Maybe in a few years he could even make another attempt at freedom. Maybe Magnus would give him a second chance. In the meantime, he had no choice but to submit to his parents' wishes.
When Alec felt the sting of hot tears on his cheek, he became aware that he had started to cry. He rubbed his eyes with his sleeve furiously, but he couldn't hold back the tears any longer. While Alec had always been good at keeping his emotions in check, he could no longer contain them. A raw sob broke from his throat. It was too late to turn back now.
Alec had always expected tears to bring some kind of catharsis, instead he felt even more miserable. His eyes were swollen, his breathing coming in shallow, irregular gasps. Still he couldn't find a way to soothe the pain in his chest. Searching for some warmth and protection, Alec pulled the soft duvet over himself and buried his face in the pillow, body wracked by heavy sobs.
The door opened, and Badrey entered without a sound. The house-elf balanced a tray of steaming clear broth, as well as some tinctures and bandages. “Master Alexander, what are you doing? You need plenty of rest so that you'll be back on your feet tomorrow.”
With practised efficiency, Badrey deposited his load on the large hardwood desk and scurried to Alec's bedside. The worried expression in the familiar, round eyes made Alec fill with gnawing guilt. Badrey would have to deal with the consequences of Alec's foolishness while he was no doubt fully occupied with the preparations for the Christmas party.
“It's all right, Badrey. I feel a bit better already.” Alec forced a tearful smile. “Don't worry, I'll manage the rest on my own. I'm sure you've got enough on your plate anyway.”
“I've known you for 18 years.” Badrey raised his bony index finger in admonishment. “There is no need to lie to me, my boy. You collapsed on me last night. I heard what Master Lightwood said to you. It certainly didn't sound like you were all right.”
Alec let out a deep sigh, relieved that his tears had finally ceased. “I should have known. It was just too good to be true.”
Badrey looked at him pensively and started to change the bandage around Alec's head with nimble fingers. As he spread the cool dittany paste over the gash, a wisp of greenish smoke curled up around it. Once it had dispersed, only a faint reddish swelling remained. “I don't know who this Magnus is, but he made you happy, didn't he? Don't let Master Lightwood take that away from you. He doesn't know you like I do, not that he's ever tried. He should be proud of his son. It's a disgrace to the Lightwood name, this behaviour.”
“Badrey!” Alec exclaimed in surprise. “I've never heard you say anything like that before.”
“I'm very good at holding my tongue. Very useful for keeping my head on my shoulders,” Badrey waved a hand dismissively. “But I'm tired of seeing Master Lightwood hurt by you. I've pulled out every last shard of glass from your back this summer. You deserve a father, who's love isn't conditional. Don't let him get to you.”
“But Jace and Isabelle…” Alec replied, looking troubled. “I can't risk anything happening to them. I can't risk him get his hands on Magnus.”
“Then you'll just have to make sure he never finds out,” the house-elf objected with a shrug. He unbuttoned the top of Alexander's shirt with a snap of his fingers and gently slid it off his shoulders.
“That's easier said than done. After all, someone at Hogwarts sent him letters in secret. Anyone who would go to such lengths won't give up that easily.” Only now was Alec able to catch a glimpse of the dark purple bruises that bloomed on the irritated skin of his back and wound around his throat like an ugly collar. He hadn't taken the collision with the shelf too well.
“Master Alexander, I don't know of any other young wizard as talented or bright as you.” Badrey began to smear a foul-smelling yellow cream onto the bruises. “I'm sure you'll find a discreet solution.”
Alec winced slightly at the contact with his tender skin, but within a few seconds the numbing effect of the cream had set in. He knew that not a single bruise would be visible within an hour. After all, tomorrow he had to play the role of the charming Lightwood heir, whose father hadn't flung him into solid-wood furniture.
“Maybe you're right. I don't want to lose Magnus,” he admitted. “I have to find out who wrote those letters. Then at least no one will report to him anymore, I'll make sure of that.’
A small smile spread across Badrey's lips. “Perhaps I can be of service to you, then,” he declared eagerly. “I always deliver Master Lightwood's mail to him. Do the initials C.B. mean anything to you? He's received a few letters from that person recently.”
“Merlin's beard,” Alec swore. “Camille Belcourt!”