Abraxas smoothed her skirt before stepping out of the carriage. At almost thirty, others of her age were long married and settled into their life, but she has no reason to conform to that part of society. Her father had worked from the moment she drew her first breath to carve a place for her among the elites as her own person. Although many argued that it was only successful because of their family connections and generational wealth, it was still her father who fought and pushed for women’s rights and ensured that she would never be something sold off for political connections or reduced to just a pretty face in a pretty dress on some lord’s arm. It didn’t end there though. Her father started it but Abraxas Malfoy was still the first girl-child to have a Gringotts Vault opened for her personal expenses in which she was had free access the key in Magical Britain from birth; she was the first girl-child to be named heir of the family after her first sign of accidental magic since the 14th century Witch Trials; she was the first to go on to open her own independent Gringotts Vault at age 11, making her also the first women to own multiple of her own bank accounts; the first to keep the entirety of her own paycheck after a summer internship at the Ministry at only 15; the first women to have her own seats on the Wizengamot exactly one year later and - after her father’s most unfortunate passing in her final year at Hogwarts - the first female head of an ancient house recognized by the Wizengamot making her also the first women in Magical Britain to be, entirely, financially independent. Abraxas was the focus and head of a movement in society she hadn’t started but had no intentions to stop either. She was used to eyes and criticism on her and had, from an early age, adapted. She was raised to not need courage as when everything is set to fall in place then all you had to do is give it that little final push.
“Abraxas, my dear, you’re late.” Tom called out as he came to greet her with a smile. “This is a most inopportune time for that; not to mention that it’s a gathering at your own home.” Abraxas knew many people who would be simpering out apologies at this point, but she was not one of them. She could tell he wasn’t angry, and that smile wasn’t his usual sadistic smirk either; he was pleased about something. Unfortunately, it was Tom, so that could mean just about anything.
“A lady is never late, my lord, she arrives exactly when she intends to.”
He chuckled at that, draping an arm around her waist as he started to lead her inside. “Except the meeting started an hour ago, Dearest.” Abraxas ignored the way his fingers dug into her side, no doubt there would be marks from it but that was hardly new. “Your tardiness has been distracting me the entire time, whatever could be more important than planning how we will conquer the dull, ignorant masses?”
He made it sound like a joke, but she could tell he was looking for more information. That was a good sign, but she didn’t let it rule her decision making. “I needed you all to gather together first for an announcement.”
The way his eyes lit up told her everything she needed to know; the Occlumency shields were working perfectly, and it would be so much easier to go through with her plan now. “Just this once, for you, because I’m confident I’ll be receiving the most… charming news.”
“You flatter me, my lord.” He pulled her closer at that, leaning in to kiss her but she simply placed a finger to his lips. “Won’t you announce my arrival…” she dropped her voice, watching the way his eyes darkened with the slightest of smirks, “my lord?”
He cleared his throat, stepping away and running a hand through his hair. He looked at her, clearly deciding whether or not to say something, before pushing open the doors as if he owed the place. “My followers” he spoke, grinning as brightly as Tom ever could, “Abraxas has news for us.”
She chose to follow after him at a far less rushed pace, taking the time to nod to her fellow Knights as she made her way to stand in front of the fireplace. It was the focus of their attention which was to be expected as the best seat was always relative to the fireplace in buildings like this. Vintage manors, while old and beautiful, were often cold. She’d have to do something about that in the future, although getting an architect who appreciated and could replicate the style and historic value would be difficult, but those were thoughts for another time. Currently, the seating arrangements were informal (as there was no sign of the Knights of Walpurgis seating via ranking or creating any sort of formation) but that didn’t mean things couldn’t get out of hand.
“Malfoy, you’re the only person I know that can be late to your own place.” Abraxas just smiled at the equivalent of a greeting from one of her oldest acquaintances. Walburga was a difficult woman on a good day and today was far from that. It was well known that she didn’t particularly care to be at these meetings and had been left far too long to stew in her thoughts while waiting for Abraxas to arrive. She couldn’t make a scene (as it was unbecoming in such a social situation) but it was getting to her, even if Walburga was far too proud to call out the slight. Besides, Abraxas had promised her today would be a sight she couldn’t miss, and everyone knew not to ignore that sort of statement when it came from a Malfoy.
“Ease up, Black.” And that was Avery coming to Abraxas’ defense in his usual laid-back tone. “I see you finally pulled yourself from the championships. How’s that sponsor of yours doing?”
“Very well, thank you. Have you been reading about it?”
“It’s not exactly our forte…” Lestrange rolled his eyes before taking a deep drink from his goblet. It was almost physically painful to watch such a beautiful antique piece be treated like something one could find in a backwater pub. “But Carrow’s been keeping us up to date.”
“Still, I thank all of you for your support.” She kept her voice light and open, the pureblood equivalent of friendly. “While on the topic, your assistance with the judges was impeccable; how did you remove the only real competition my sponsee was facing?”
There were technically two potion competitions taking place this year and Abraxas was involved in both. The first and better known one was the Wizarding Schools Potions Championship. It took place every 7 years and challenged the up-and-coming from different wizarding schools to prove their skills by overcoming challenges using various potions they’d brewed. It, like the Triwizard Tournament, could be a deadly affair but that was a standard for magical challenges. Abraxas had somehow ended up on the board of judges, but she couldn’t fathom how that had happened. She’d been truly startled to receive the letter as potions was not something she was known for, and it wasn’t as if she was currently involved in any of the wizarding school boards either. The official reason given on the document was diplomatic in nature - what with her family's French ties and the general belief that her mother attended Beauxbatons Academy of Magic while she, obviously, had attended Hogwarts - but Abraxas was skeptical of that for several reasons; the most prominent being that diplomats were actively employed for international affairs such as these and she was not one.
The second competition was a smaller affair and part of the Ministry attempting to re-promote their image. They’d extended an open invitation to any Magical British Citizen (this obviously did not include creatures or those with creature blood) that wished to challenge themself in any way that promoted pioneer-ship in the area of potion making. What they chose to overlook was that high grade potions tended to be expensive and creating something entirely new was almost unheard of. This meant that a lot of the potioneers involved tended to either be from wealthy families, have generated their own wealth in some way or have sponsors for the competition. It was purely happenstance and good timing that had led to Abraxas running into her sponsee during a long weekend away in Avignon. Penelope Clarette Bonaccord was someone Abraxas had known from her school days. She’d been the Ravenclaw prefect at the same time that Abraxas had been the Slytherin one, and they had a friendly competition - which said a lot when it was a Ravenclaw and a Slytherin involved - for the position of Head Girl which Abraxas had, naturally, won. They remained more than acquaintances but not quite friends up until Penelope moved away a couple years after they finished school; a pity as she was one of the few people Abraxas actually respected. During her short holiday they’d reconnected, and it was while having dinner at Hiély-Lucullus that the topic of the competition had come up - along with many other things - and they’d officially acknowledged their relationship as a friendship and come to an agreement.
“Yes, Lestrange, how did you ‘remove’ the competition? I haven’t heard about any deaths in the paper.” Nott teased, supposedly in jest but his arrogant tone and haughty demeanor did not make it seem that way. Personally, Abraxas thought it was rather hypocritical of him to be judging anyone in this room while leaving footmarks on her good upholstery but some people - regardless of how much money their mothers spent on tutors - would never have any real class.
Lestrange just laughed though, tipping his head back and practically howling as he remembered whatever he had done. He must have been a couple goblets in if he was finding it that funny, but she couldn't blame him; everyone knew he was taking his wife’s latest miscarriage quite hard. “I called in a favor from Selwyn. He tipped off the Aurors at the same time I had the littlest Rosier encourage a spot check for all the contestants' storerooms. It really is amazing how all those rare ingredients of mine that went missing last week reappeared in a certain someone’s crates.”
A few of the Knights joined in his laughter and Abraxas forced herself to do the same just to be polite. “I’ll have to get something nice for all of you then.” She acknowledged the other participants in the scheme with a nod, but Selwyn was having none of it.
“It’s only right to help our Dark Lady, no?”
“You flatter her far too much, Selwyn.” If Druella said the name with any more hatred, it would surely have produced a hex. His flirting rubbed a lot of people off the wrong way, but none had ever been quite so incensed by it as her. In fact, one Valentine’s Day, when they were still in school, she’d put a babbling curse on him just so that she wouldn’t have to put up with it. Sometimes Abraxas missed those days; things were much simpler when all her problems could be solved with a well-placed spell.
Abraxas wasn’t sure when things had gotten so messy - sometimes it felt as if she had just woken up one day and her entire world was drowning in complexities - but she knew that it started during her time at Hogwarts. The defining moment for her was the death of Myrtle Warren as Abraxas had finally realized how convoluted everything was. Logically, she knew there were things before, but everything just seemed to get so much worse in the time that followed. As a general, life seemed to be a jumble of interwoven days and events for her but there were moments that stood out. For instance, everything surrounding Rubeus Hagrid had left a vivid impression. Abraxas had been in her 5th year at the time, a new prefect along with Tom, when he had turned in the younger Gryffindor boy for the death of the third-year girl. It was shocking to learn that an Acromantula killed Myrtle - one of a series of dangerous pets Hagrid had kept over his short Hogwarts career - and that the same Acromantula would go on to be released into the forest around the school. Hagrid would stay on the grounds, being trained to be gamekeeper even though his wand was snapped for the incident, and Tom would receive a reward in the form of the ‘Special Services to the School’ trophy. Then there were the multiple reforms that the Ministry of Magic went through following the defeat of Grindelwald which she understood were necessary but that didn’t make them any less exhausting; the Werewolf Register especially. Abraxas was no werewolf sympathizer, but the entire process created an unnecessarily complicated lot of work. It started in ‘47 which was an awful year in general with everyone juggling multiple jobs for multiple departments so, while the public was under the impression that it would be handled by the Werewolf Capture Unit or even the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, it had crossed her desk multiple times simply because the separate aspects of it had to get managed by somebody and she was one of the unfortunate souls it was left to. She put an end to that one year later when, during election season, she bought Wilhelmina Tuft the position of Minster and got some much-needed calm into her life. Now in ‘53 the chaos had resumed as, already, Justus Pilliwickle had died, the Harpies vs. Harriers game had made history and all while she played a game of mental chess against the Knights of Walpurgis.
“You needn’t fear, Lady Black.” Abraxas smiled charmingly before nodding at Tom who was struggling to hide his growing impatience. “We all know your heart is the darkest here.” Walburga tipped her head back and cackled at that, as if it wasn't something she heard regularly about her sister-in-law. “Onto the pressing topic; I am proud to announce that my engagement will be finalized on the last day of the Championship.” She enjoyed their stunned silence for a second before Mulciber got to his feet.
“Congratulations. My Lord, why hadn’t you announced it earlier?”
Nott rolled his eyes before pulling his friend back into his seat. A pity: she always enjoyed watching him making a fool of himself but today would have beaten all odds if he was left to carry on speaking. “Clearly, he was waiting for Lady Malfoy.”
“I…” Abraxas turned her amused gaze away from Mulciber and took a moment to admire the sight of Tom Marvolo Riddle at a true loss for words. It wasn’t every day that you got to see something like this, and she made a point to commit it to memory. “Excuse me?”
Unfortunately, she couldn’t let it last long as he was under a misconception she wouldn’t allow to grow. “I’ll be of the first to use the potion.” She explained and watched as understanding slowly crept across his face.
Penelope, her potion sponsee, had created a truly marvelous invention that would revolutionize society (especially for the pureblood elitists) but she had encountered a little hurdle along the way. The Bonaccord family were French with deep roots in the international wizarding community but outside of a tiny footnote in the History of Magic they hadn’t made a name for themselves, meaning that while they were a pureblood family they didn’t have the generational wealth or full society ties that typically came with it which was a problem in Penelope’s situation. Potion making, especially from an inventor's angle, was expensive and there was no way for her to get the items she needed to repeat the process while working within her budget which is where Abraxas came in. The ingredients were difficult to come by and the process was meticulous but once the tincture was known on the market it could easily sell for more than triple what was spent on making it, labor cost included. Penelope really only needed about five samples and only three of those would be going to the judges; plus, a cauldron didn’t make only a single vial full so it’s not as if this was as ridiculous as Penelope had made it sound while going on and on and on as only a Ravenclaw can about something they’re passionate about. Personally, Abraxas hadn’t even thought it was that big of a deal as she’d had a fair bit of the items in her family’s storeroom and simply bought the rest for less than she’d spent on some day trips, but she wisely kept that information to herself. Engagement hadn’t even been on the table while they were discussing the sponsorship business but two months into their newfound friendship they’d been talking about Penelope’s late husband and departed son when a solution to a problem they were both facing regarding their future dawned on them. It would have to be a rushed engagement followed by an ‘accidentally’ set back extended honeymoon but by playing their cards just right they could get away with it. Abraxas was only disappointed that she hadn’t been the one to think of it but it helped make her feel more secure about the partnership when her wife-to-be had such cunning.
“Abraxas…” She made sure to suppress the sadistic glee she got from watching the emotions growing on Tom's face, it wouldn’t do to throw the game now. “What is going on?”
“I’ve had to think long and hard about what is best for my future and-”
“Our future, Abraxas.” His voice raised slightly, as unhinged as Tom would ever dare to get in this sort of setting with so many people watching, as he cut her off. “You can’t just pretend that our interactions mean nothing; that the moments we’ve spent together are replaceable. Do you really think some potioneer can measure up to me?”
“My lord.” She kept her voice level only because she knew there was far more power in seeming unaffected by it all. “I told myself that I would conduct myself gracefully, but I cannot hold true to that if you do not do the same.”
“There has been nothing graceful about your conduct in any of this.” He closed the space between them, openly hesitating for a moment before grabbing onto her shoulders. “You came in here late and played me for a fool. You know the power we have together, the plans we have made together, and you are acting like you can just throw our endeavors away. You speak as if this is trivial…” Tom was such a good actor that, if she didn’t know him any better, she’d think he was actually hurt by this. The Knights, Walburga and Druella especially, were clearly enjoying the drama; practically eating it up as the entire room was glued to what was going on between them. “Does my love for you mean nothing?”
“Love” She spoke calmly as she looked up at him, staring straight into his eyes. “Is that what you want to call it?”
“Of course it is. Whoever has filled your head with these delusions that it could be anything other will suffer for it. I will do unspeakable horrors onto them that make even the Unforgivables seem gentle. I need you, Abraxas. I love you.”
“And was it also your love for me that led you to taking Travers a-top my bed?” In the silence that followed she pushed his hands off of her and attempted to take a step away from him, but Tom followed, grabbing onto her hands and clasping them between his own.
Handsome and ever charming, perhaps if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, he could have used his silver tongue to get out of this too. But she had seen him, and she had seen it, and she knew the potential consequences of his actions better than even he did. “Abraxas… please my dear sit, you’ve simply misunderstood.”
“I most certainly did not, Lord Riddle.” Her voice rose an octave, the most that she would let her anger out in this situation. He didn’t deserve to see behind her societal mask anymore. “Anne Travers is the thrice diseased whore you bedded in my room, and she is here today.” Abraxas forcefully pulled her hands away before gesturing - never pointing - at the dark-haired witch who everyone had moved away from. “Why don’t we all hear from her about how much I misunderstood. Lady Travers, although I do think lady is a bit of a stretch to use on you at this moment, am I lying, or did you not sleep with Lord Riddle in my bedchambers at this residence?”
All eyes turned to Travers while Tom grew increasingly frustrated. There was a build of static in the air from his magic and, while others might have mistaken it for an accidental display in desperation, Abraxas knew that it was an intimidation technique meant to make her (and everyone else here) silent. Unfortunately for him, she had planned for that too. “We made love, and I don’t regret it for a second.” Travers spat the words out, her tongue moving faster than her mind could stop. “You’re simply too jealous to understand the connection we have and I’m sick and tired of pretending that you’re important when even our Lord thinks you’re a bitch and is only using you for your money and status.” She covered her mouth immediately afterwards, horrified with herself, as she desperately looked around for support. There was none to be found though, least of all where she was hoping to find it.
That was one of the things about the Knights of Walpurgis that had always annoyed and unsettled her; they were meant to be a sort of coven, but they were no more loyal than any other Pureblood Cohort. For all that they might pretend otherwise, Abraxas had seen their flaws and knew that none of them were united or even truly like-minded. They were ambitious and all self-serving; they turned on each other faster than a Snidget. The only thing truly keeping them together was Tom with his magical prowess and status as a descendant of Salazar Slytherin himself. The Hogwarts founder would probably be proud of them if he could overlook that Slytherin House itself had more unity and that this was closer to a political mindset than a truly pureblood one. Abraxas didn’t indulge in such empty thinking - as her father had raised her correctly - but she’d grown used to it and even come to understand that it had its place and uses. Tom had always agreed with her about that, but she could no longer tell if that was anything more than lip service to butter her up. These days it was apparent that he had told many people many things in confidence, but they were only words to match what the person wanted to hear, regardless of whether the statement went on to contradict something he said to another.
Speaking of Tom, he was currently borderline hissing. The red in his eyes was more pronounced than she’d ever seen it and it would have been beautiful, maybe even awe inspiring, if she wasn’t so disgusted with him “Silence.” His voice cut through the room as he stared at Travers; clenching and unclenching his fists and he visibly fought to reign in control. “She’s out of her mind, Abraxas.” He turned back to her, not the least bit successful in calming himself. “I could never think of you in that way. You are, and always will be, the most dear person to me. I could never-”
“My Lord.” Carrow cut in, much to Tom’s frustration. “Colorless, odorless and with only three drops it can have someone spilling their deepest, darkest, secrets. You put Veritaserum in her drink… isn’t that right, Malfoy?”
“You’ve caught me.” Abraxas smiled, although that was a lie. It was actually in the snacks. Still, the results of the first part of this game weren’t bad. She had established herself as more than just a discarded and used mistress and taken back some power. Now she just had to make sure that everything else went as smoothly. “There’s a reason that the hat placed me in Slytherin, and it wasn’t simply because of how good I look in green.”
“Abraxas, please.” Tom was begging now, only because he was smart enough to know not to try anything else. “You’re more than just important to the cause, you’re important to me. It was a mistake. She means nothing; she has never meant anything. You are my-”
“Tom” The use of his name seemed to make him finally realize how serious she was about this, and he took a step back as if she’d hexed him. “Enough, please. It won’t change anything.”
“You change everything.”
“Wait, wait, wait, are we all just going to ignore that Lady Malfoy called Travers ‘thrice diseased’ and while under Veritaserum she hasn’t denied it. Who all here has she slept with?” Mulciber’s voice was several octaves higher than it had previously been as he looked around the room. If Abraxas hadn't already known, this would have made it very clear that he had multiple dalliances with Travers and had come to regret it. At least he, unlike others in the room who had done similar, was unmarried so his karma would be far less than some. She knew, for example, that Parkinson would be sleeping outside once news got back to his wife; although for how long that lasted was debatable, it was hardly the first time such a scandal had come up in their household.
“Diseases of this nature are a little more complicated than that…” Selwyn tried to be diplomatic, but Avery was having none of it. Understandable, really, as he was in a very difficult position in light of this news.
“In the nicest way possible, please shut up. I’m trying to figure out who else has-”
“Mistress” Mipsy, one of the Malfoy house elves appeared with a resounding pop that startled nearly everyone in the room, “Mistresses, Healer Monet is wanting to come in”
And truly Abraxas couldn’t have planned that better if she tried. “Thank you Mipsy, you can send her through.” The house elf disappeared with another pop and Abraxas took some time to admire the effect she’d had on everyone in the room. They were in the palm of her hand, clinging to her every word and move. She probably should have worn the dress that Penelope had chosen for her, but it would have been too flashy and the suspense she had created from lulling them into a false sense of security was a far more acrimonious thrill. None of them could have foreseen this coming when she walked in and none of them would forget it when she left either. There were some things that couldn’t be taken from one’s mind even with a well-placed ‘obliviate’ as they left such a deep impression on your psyche that they became a part of your subconscious - like how a person might wake up and reach for their glasses every morning - and this would become one such thing. If nothing else came from all of this, she’d be able to take pride in retelling it all to Penelope - who would surely find some amusement in it - and, maybe in a couple of years' time when Abraxas was ready to deal with everything regarding this situation in a mature manner she could rewatch this all in a pensieve and find some closure (among other things) in the knowledge that magic had been on her side this day.
“You can all relax.” Abraxas put on her best societal smile as she stared the Knights down, “I’ve already had Healer Monet sworn to confidentiality and she is a very practical woman. For all of you, this situation will be cleared up in no time. While I can understand that there are reservations in light of the information that has come up, you are all still my esteemed associates; I would never endanger any of you over this.” They all knew it was a beautifully worded dig at the character of certain individuals present but this was an opportunity that no sane person could miss. For the directly affected it was a debt that they couldn’t decline (not just because of the situation but because seeking help elsewhere would mean admitting to the problem and risking information leaking) while for those that chose their bed partners more carefully it was both blackmail and gossip no true Slytherin could overlook.
“Abraxas” She blinked as the man stood; trying to figure out who he was and why he seemed familiar before, with growing antipathy, it dawned on her. “I have never wanted to kiss you as much as I do at this moment.”
“Well please restrain yourself, Lord Travers.” She wasn’t entirely sure how she kept her voice level when faced with those words spoken by Anne’s brother, but it was certainly no small feat. “I have seen far too much of your family unclothed to entertain such thoughts.” He did not seem to relate her displeasure to himself through and instead glared at his sister as if she had personally wronged him. Maybe Anne had but Abraxas didn’t particularly care. She had never kept up with that family outside of Torquil Travers, an uncle or something of theirs, who was Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. A wonderfully stern and blunt man that far too many people took issue with; especially when he had no family bias.
“Dearest, please, if this entire thing is fixable…” Tom, ever the attention seeker, tried again. No doubt he thought because of all the years they’d had together that she would cave to him as she always did but those were to less personal slights. This was neither lesser to her nor impersonal and she would not oblige him when he had created such a grievance between them. Thankfully, she was saved from having to hear any more of his falsehoods by the doors opening as the mediwitch entered.
Healer Monet was a plump woman with an equally soft disposition; although she was young, she had already established herself in France and was well known for her quick thinking and natural talent. Abraxas had been pleased to meet her - in the way anyone who kept note of the up-and-coming talents who might leave a mark in history should be - until everything went sideways. After that she’d been rather suspicious and perhaps a little impolite given the situation, but she’d changed her opinion once more after Monet had gotten her in contact with Penelope. Truthfully, Abraxas owed the women more than she would ever be comfortable admitting, but Monet was having none of it. It was muggle (because Penelope had, unfortunately, proven the more accurate term to be sinking to their level) half-blood thinking at its worst and Abraxas hated that sort of mindset. A lot of those not raised according to the old bloodlines seemed to think that having a debt or due owed or given was instantly bad and that all things should be written off so that one could be seen as selfless which was both stupid and insular. The wizarding world was not fair, and they often cared more about your connection and name than they did your actions. There was (unfortunately) no way of changing Monet’s mind about the matter and for what must be the millionth time Abraxas felt that there should be more done to the old ways in place. They had muggle studies - which was ridiculous and often derogatory - so surely, they could implement a bridging course or something. Still, Monet’s close mindedness was incredibly useful for Abraxas and, with the other women’s credentials in mind, they’d stayed in contact even after Abraxas’ holiday had come to an end. Although it was unlikely they could ever be truly friends, one could never be overly prepared and there were many benefits to having a sympathetic mediwitch on one’s side.
“Lady Malfoy.” Monet greeted, curtseying in the doorway.
The smile Abraxas greeted her with was real at least. It was always pleasant to see proper courtesy being used in her home; especially after having to put up with the uncivilized characteristics of certain individuals gathered here. “Healer Monet; welcome. Please come in, can I get you anything before we start?”
“There is no need, Lady Malfoy.” Monet waved her off, setting her briefcase down on the table. “Shall we start with your check up? I’m sure considering the situation everyone here will be most understanding.”
“Ah…” Abraxas paused, letting the words hang in the air between them before turning to look into the fire. She kept her true thoughts firmly in place and empowered only that which she wanted others to perceive; she’d practiced her occlumency shields far too long with Penelope to give something away now simply because she was feeling confident. Although she doubted anyone would actively try with a healer present, she wasn’t risking wandless magic. “That part of your services is no longer necessary.”
“... Abraxas?” For the first time since his transgression had been revealed, Tom seemed to be truly back footed. From the corner of her eye, she could see him struggling to come to terms with what it meant; he had been the one expecting ‘charming’ news after all, so he had some idea of what was coming. She would not reach out for him or give him any reason to think his opinion or reactions mattered still; he no longer had the right to that either.
“Forgive us Monet…” She cleared her throat, making sure to keep her back turned to all of them. “I had yet to get around to speaking about that part of things.”
“Oh! I am so sorry Lady Malfoy, I should have-”
“No, it’s quite fine, Healer. Those who need to know do.” She could feel the ripple this little interaction was causing amongst the Knights. The way their eyes tried to pierce into her and judge the authenticity of her words and actions and how deeply this had truly affected her, but she was not going to give them the satisfaction of finding out. Her back to them meant two things after: open vulnerability, which is a show of strength more than trust in Slytherin, and that none of them could see her face without coming up to her which would mean she’d outlasted them and therefore won.
“I don’t mean to be rude, Malfoy, but nobody else here understands the code you two are using so if you could explain it please.” Crabbe looked around at his fellow knights for agreement and backup but only managed to piss Walburga off in the process. She’d taken it upon herself as his elder cousin to look out for him and become her personal headache in the process.
“Everyone with more than one brain cell has understood it perfectly fine, Vincent.”
“In all fairness, I did not understand it and, it’s not like it is anything any of us need to worry about… right?” Anne spoke sweetly. There was a pause before she yelped and quickly continued speaking in a far more sheepish tone, “I just mean-”
“Really?” Druella sounded exasperated, “Lady Travers, are you playing dumb or this just wishful thinking?”
“I’m just saying that ‘it’ is not our problem.” She quickly rectified. “I am sure we have all had our own fair share of slip ups over the years and it hasn’t really done any long-term harm. My dalliances are now more open than I wished them to be but considering how many of us have had such… omissions, who can really say how many Malfoy-”
“Are you simply unable to hold your tongue or are you subtly begging me to cut it out?” Tom jumped in, putting himself between Abraxas and the rest of his knights. He was starting to sound a little unhinged which didn’t surprise her, she knew Tom had issues, but she could imagine that it was having quite an effect on his image among those gathered today because he had always tried to keep it private. “Can you even begin to comprehend what you have done here today? If you dare finish that sentence or say another word out of line, I swear-”
“Lord Riddle.” She cut in only because it wouldn’t do for curses and unforgivables to start flying while Healer Monet was watching. “Please keep whatever troubles you are having within your own… personal paradise to within your own free time.”
“And let her slander you like that?” his voice softened as he reached for her wrist, but she was quick to pull them to her chest.
“Yes.” It was difficult to keep her voice even, but she managed. A clingy ex may be more emotionally taxing but she’d dealt with far worse than Tom Marvolo Riddle at work. She wouldn't let him get under her skin; this would be a clean break in which nobody, by the end of it, would ever hint that they could recover or fix their relationship. “I am not yours to protect, and I no longer wish to be.”
“I will never allow that, Abraxas. You will always be-”
“No, Tom.” She didn’t raise her voice, but it carried all the same. “You lost that privilege when you not only almost killed me but took our child's life simply because you could neither keep it in your pants nor at least have the decency to be safe while cheating on me.”
She felt and heard the steps he took back, the way he practically collapsed into the armchair by the fire. The best seat in the room, reserved for the most esteemed among them, now the focus point of his breakdown. Purebloods had strong feelings about children - some good, some bad - but heir endangerment was considered one of the most reprehensible crimes. There were loopholes to this of course, as there were with any custom, but interference before birth was one of the few situations that couldn’t be so easily brushed aside. Although nobody was willing to admit it, everyone knew that their numbers were dwindling and - for the more intellectual among them - that continuing to choose spouses for their children from within the family was not helping. The current standing non-verbal agreement between the Lords and Ladies was to attempt to have larger families even though there were easier solutions. The one Abraxas had always spoken of in school was international marriage as the only setback was deciphering what your spouse (and their family) stood for or how they would interact within the British political sector; it had not caught on though. The other, older, way was to interbreed with creatures but that carried an entirely different problem. You see regardless of one’s stance on Pureblood supremacy the heart of the Half-Blood disagreement stemmed more from a tradition standpoint than it did parentage - as a Half-Blood could still produce a Pureblood grandchild - which is where the difference between a muggle and creature inheritance came in. With the right connections anyone could pass their Half-Blood child off in high society, but it was typically expected that both parents are active participants in their child's life and therefore impact what they learn. For a Half-Blood with a creature inheritance this often meant a greater understanding of the old ways (as most creatures follow it more closely than witches and wizards do) and therefore (so long as they did not get any noticeable creature traits) they could be very active in the right circles. For a Half-Blood with a muggle parent or grandparent however they learnt muggle traditions which is where the term ‘Blood Traitor’ originated as those people were choosing to prioritize the traditions of those their ancestors had died at the hands of.
“Forgive me, that was unnecessary.” Abraxas didn’t actually feel that way, but it was the correct etiquette to follow in the situation. With everything loudly aired between them, she could finally wrap the entire thing up and make a dramatic exit. “I…” she let her voice wobble for effect, “I need to go. It has been an… experience seeing you all like this; I do hope we have no need to repeat it.”
“Abraxas.” She finally looked at him just to take in how thoroughly defeated he was; no longer a king or composed leader, just a man reduced to begging by his own actions. She couldn’t hate him even though she wanted to, but she couldn’t find it in herself to love anymore either; all that was left was pity. He’d have hated that more than anything else if he knew and she took satisfaction in it.
“We’re done. I’ll return once the house is empty, and I’ll be updating the wards to maintain it as such.” She nodded to the associates she still held respect for which was far and few between them all. “Next week, when everyone is congratulating Ms. Bonaccord on her win, we will go on to announce our engagement; her and I that is. We will send the wedding invitations - which I’m sure many will find an excuse not to attend, and I will remember them for such - before going to on have a beautiful ceremony. We’ve chosen a Grecian theme, for those who want to plan ahead, specifically the contrast of eagle and snake in which they represent the struggle between heavenly and earthly powers.” She smiled at the older families, who actually understood what was being said in that. “We’ve chosen to indulge in the longer route so an outline will be added, and you can RSVP for what parts you will present. In the light of the morn, we will follow the conception steps before taking our honeymoon in France. It will be for a considerable amount of time, but we should be back before our child is born. Her’s and mine that is.”
“But you’re both girls!” Goyle shouted as if Abraxas had finally lost her mind and he wasn’t the one embarrassing himself by not staying up to date with current affairs. Goyle was only a little more intelligent than Crabbe but, unfortunately, he didn’t have an elder cousin to stop him doing anything stupid. It had been funnier back in their school days when he’d done things like misunderstand what the teacher said and physically beaten himself with a textbook thinking it would help him understand the subject. It, obviously, hadn’t worked but it had been hilarious up until it came to exam time, and they had to drag him repeatedly to the infirmary for slamming his own head against the common room table while ‘studying’ for a History of Magic.
“With the potion set to win the championship, it won’t matter anymore. Two boys, two girls, a boy and a girl...” Carrow trailed off, clearly hyping himself up for a rant. Honestly, he would have been a far better potion judge than Abraxas as it was a hobby of his but, the free advertising and explanation suited her just fine. “It’s ingenious, but it’s hardly a simple potion. Even master’s in the field will struggle trying to replicate or make it and the ingredients aren’t things you can just come by or get locally. It’s going to go a long way in maintaining blood purity but it’s also something most people will never be able to afford. That hardly matters if the shelf-life of the item is as it’s been proposed though. To add to it, if you aren’t looking at it from the standard reproductive angle, it has many benefits for a parent already bearing the child. Considering those additional properties…” he tenses, eyes going wide, “Abraxas if you had run into her earlier you might have-”
“Thank you, Carrow.” Abraxas sighed, as she took them in. “Yes, that is why I agreed to sponsor her. You probably don’t remember Penelope outside of the competition, but she was actually at Hogwarts with us. She lost her husband and child in an accident while I… well you all know what happened now and it’s affected my view on certain things. I have come to the conclusion that anyone who truly wishes to be a mother and can afford to make that into reality deserves to be one. Both Penelope and I want this, and we have an agreement amongst ourselves regarding how our lifestyle will be going forward. Penelope’s family is from France and I just… I need to get away-”
“Wait!” Crabbe cut in, “You’re saying that Travers disease caused you to miscarry… Is that a thing, cousin?”
“Yes, Vincent.” Walburga sighed deeply, “How did you miss that? It is right there you half brained-”
“So, we’re all getting checked now because we might also…” Goyle cut in only to get cross eyed as he tried to finish the sentence. “But I haven’t- Did you…” he looked at Parkinson before sighing, “I thought we were all here to talk about the voting coming up.”
“We spoke about it an hour ago.” Druella swiftly shut him up with her cold tone. “This is getting ridiculous. Abraxas, darling...” Nothing good ever came from that woman being reduced to using sweet pet names; in fact, it usually meant she was about to start hexing people. “Walburga and I will deal with everyone. We’ll flu-call Lady Lestrange once you’ve left to make sure nobody does anything more stupid than they already have in the ante rem. Lord Lestrange, it’s time for you to get sobered up so that you don’t turn into an absolute crying mess as soon as you see her and Anne…” She looked at the women with a big fake smile that did nothing to conceal the disdain in her eyes, “At least try to fix yourself up and deal with the prodding; you created this situation now suck it up like everyone has found out you’re oh so good at doing. Right” she clapped her hands twice and Abraxas truly did feel sorry for her husband at that moment. “Darling, thank you for hosting us in your home; it’s been lovely as always. My dear sister-in-law and I will take good care of Healer Monet for you, she can start doing the diagnostics now; yes?” It was a rhetorical question, and the poor girl was left to simply nod along. “Perfect. Don’t be a stranger. I will find a way to come with you fabric shopping for that wedding dress. Ta.” she turned back to her fellow knights and let out a single exasperated sound somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. “You lot were all perfectly capable of managing yourselves when you were fucking each other, so why do you now need someone to order you to line up? Hurry up and get to it.”
Taking that to mean the situation was going to be well handled, Abraxas quietly left through the fireplace. She waited exactly three seconds to be sure nobody had followed immediately after her before sealing it so that nobody could. She wasn’t in the mood for guests and, while everything had gone perfectly, it still left a weight on her. The mere thought of almost losing herself after everything her father had done to ensure she would be able to stand on her own was daunting; even more so that it had come from somebody who could so easily say they loved her. She might have reduced Tom to something pitiful but, if it hadn’t been for Penelope, he’d have turned her into something pathetic and she wasn’t sure if she could ever forgive him for that. Sure, her revenge against him was already in play but it didn’t feel like enough. She’d wasted so many years on him and his ideas and his beliefs and his wants and his plans that it was difficult even thinking of her own. She’s made it through today with spite to fuel her and, while it had worked (and proven that she was capable), this was all new territory. Before her little trip she’d had an entire future planned out and imagined with someone she thought she could trust and fall back on but that was no longer the path her life could take. She wasn’t someone who could suck up being cheated on and pushed aside and that’s what stung the most in all of this. She’d spent so much time with Tom and done so many things with him; they’d been practically inseparable from the day he sat down next to her in the sorting ceremony on their first day of Hogwarts. He wasn’t just her lover; he was her greatest and closest companion and confidant; the only person she’d ever developed romantic feelings for and someone she looked up to. It wasn’t as if their relationship was only soft and sweet either; they'd gotten into screaming matches and cried to and about each other. He was the rock she thought she could weather any storm with, and she’d believed that he thought the same of her. Abraxas had told him secrets that she now wished she could take back as her only insurance that he wouldn’t repeat anything was that he’d told her things too. She couldn’t even trust that now. Tom had always been good at lying, too good really, and she’d bought into his act for so long that she could no longer decipher whether he’d ever even cared about her. Probably not, in hindsight, but pieces must be set up first before they can fall. She couldn’t truly rely on any of the Knights now either (regardless of what Druella said), so who knew how many connections she’d lost simply because she had grown soft and thought with her heart instead of her head,
“You look awful.” Penelope said as she came up to her, pushing some hair out of Abraxas face. “You’re not feverish, are you?” Abraxas shook her head, “That’s a start. How badly did it go? Should I start the process or get a portkey?”
“No, it went perfectly to plan.” Abraxas tried to keep her voice even, but it was difficult now that the weight of everything was catching up to her. Penelope, unfortunately, caught onto this and was clearly not going to let it go without a proper explanation. “It’s just… he somehow already knew.” She hated the way Penelope softened at that. Stupidly good people and their stupid moral high ground. She didn’t want to be pitied or comforted or consoled; she wanted revenge. A voice in the back of her head that sounded suspiciously like her mother's whispered that she could have it if she should just set them all alight, but she liked the manor, and they were in it. Besides, she’d left the house elves on standby in case of trouble so it wasn't as if it would burn down anyway.
“I’m so sorry Abra-”
“It makes it easier.” She cut Penelope off. “He won’t question our ruse because he was aware of the pregnancy and took the bait Monet, unknowingly, set. I can cut ties and alliances with those who side with him and, equally, others can cut ties with my family accordingly. The news is unlikely to spread as, if people begin speaking on it, they can be scrutinized for it. It’s difficult to say who all has and hasn’t helped cover his affairs and that alone should be a juicier topic than a faux miscarriage nobody has real details of. In a week our engagement will be the topic of conversation in high society and with your… ideas, which I still do not think are entirely correct but have agreed to, the reforms you’ll make with the Malfoy name will keep us in Britain long enough to push back our honeymoon so nobody can question the extended period away or that the child is born ‘prematurely’ from stress in France. Of course, then, naturally, we’ll have to stay longer and when we do make our grand re-entrance nobody will notice anything odd.”
“Abraxas.” Penelope smiled softly and she drew her into a hug. “You don’t have to pretend for me. Was he has done is insensitive and cruel and the amount of health risks alone are-”
“Pen…” Abraxas tried to push her away, but the brunette just clung to her tighter.
“NO! You’re an amazing witch and everyone knows that. You’ve been gone on him since first year and nobody has ever had real reason to question your faithfulness outside of jealousy. Everyone knows that you asked him to come with you to meet your father on school breaks and that he accepted multiple times. You were the ‘it’ couple and I know how proud of it you were.” Penelope took a deep shaky breath, before loosening her grip when she was confident Abraxas wouldn’t pull away. “I can’t imagine the amount of work you put into the relationship for it to last through school and your lordship and your career. Most people wouldn’t bother to keep a partner through so many life-changing events when they weren’t ready to commit to a handfasting, but you did it; and that isn’t stupidity like I know you’re thinking it is. You have ambitions and you make them reality. Of course, it hurts you and you are angry, and I want to hex him so badly for daring to treat you like this, because you deserve someone who sees you and matches the effort you put in. And you do, you put so much effort into everything to make sure it lines up just right and falls into place exactly how you want it. He’s made you think it’s just luck and coincidence, but I have known you just as long as him - although not as personally - and I was there for what you do. It wasn’t just that your planners were always better than mine or that you always knew exactly when to cast one little extra spell; I tried to study to the standards you set because I know how amazing you are. I didn’t know I could hate anybody, but I hate him for this to you.”
Abraxas supposed, at least, that the indignation on her behalf was sweet. “But he didn’t find out and that’s what’s important.” She briefly hugged back, just long enough to appease the brunette, before pulling away. “I’ll put on some tea.” She couldn’t say exactly why she still felt choked up but that wasn’t important. “Have you thought about any middle names yet?”
“Well, you chose Lucius for a first name so it’s a bit difficult.” Penelope sighed, following after her into the kitchen. “Maybe I’ll just choose something based on when he’s born.”
Abraxas chuckled softly, subtly wiping away tears she refused to admit to shedding. “Well, Monet said the 7th of September was the expected date.”
“Septimus then. Oh no, Lucius Septimius Malfoy… he needs something else added in there or everyone will immediately judge him as another upright stuck up Pureblood before they are even properly introduced. Or, worse, they’ll pull out the really old traditions that nobody wants to use like” she cleared her throat, “Ah, yes, a toast to you Lucius Septimus, may your fields prosper, and the winds be ever at your back.” she did a very good impression of Headmaster Dippet, before groaning. “I’m terrible at naming things Abraxas, you can’t trust me with something important like this.”
“Well, I like it. Lucius Septimus…” she paused as she looked through her tea, “We’ll just add something in like Noctua and call it a day. Besides, it's not a bad thing to please the older families; especially when you are bringing in such a change with your potion.”
“Speaking of potions and old family traditions; I was thinking that we might be able to bribe certain people into attendance of the wedding by the gifting method and - while I’m not as up to date with all the socialites you are - there are certain rumors that have made their way even to little old hermit me.” She stopped as Abraxas poured water into the two teacups.
“You can go on.” Abraxas rolled her eyes, “I’m listening.”
“I know” she smiled softly, “Thank you for the tea. Now, as I was saying-” at least, as things stood, Abraxas would be content with her home life with Penelope. It wasn’t what she had planned but it would never be boring either and there was nothing wrong with marrying a friend one could trust; especially if said friend was as dependent on the secret you two shared.