The Abyss Looks Also Into You
1913
1 Malfoy Manor was big. It was humongous, as a matter of fact. Newt, as Leta’s fidgety companion, had not ever been in a house such as this where people just lived without having opened the residence up for tourist business. England – Muggle as well as magical – was basically littered with castle ruins and manor houses that had been turned into museums and were visited by droves of people from all over the planet – not so the Malfoys’ ancestral home. No, it was centuries old and would probably remain hidden from the public eye for many more to come. As far as Newt knew, not many people lived there, either: it was the matriarch and patriarch, his sister, her nephew, and the two boys, Apollo and Ares.
Getting to the place had been quite the production, as well, as the guests were picked up from the closest train station by black automobiles. It didn’t even matter whether the Malfoy family owned them, whether they’d just rented them, or whether some other arrangement might have been made, because nothing made the gesture any less flashy and gaudy. Newt reminded himself that it was wrong to judge, but as the car he and Leta and Leta’s parents were in drove through the wrought iron gates, up the wound path, and toward the manor, he couldn’t help but think that all this luxury was a waste of resources – wasted on a handful of people.
He looked out the automobile’s square-shaped window to his left and spotted a big, shiny, white bird flapping its wings. “They have peacocks.”
“Indeed, they do,” Leta’s mother, the American witch Inez Lestrange, said, sounding less baffled than Newt but not exactly as if she approved, either.
Chancing a glance at her, he saw that the expression on her beautiful face was sour. Unable to help himself, he exchanged a knowing look with Leta. Both of them had the same idea at the same time, turning to each other in unison. Both snickered: she merrily, he almost soundlessly.
“I’m glad to see you in such high spirits, sweetheart,” Gareth Lestrange said, giving his daughter a little smile. “I really do hope you manage to go out and make some friends tonight. They aren’t bad kids, your schoolmates. You just have to give them a chance.”
“Sure,” Leta said, rolling her eyes, and gave Newt another pointed look, this time less joyful. She’d been fidgety the whole train ride over, and was now visibly uncomfortable in her own skin.
Newt wished he could tell her that nothing bad was going to happen with both her parents there and himself, but he’d be lying. He had no idea what those Slytherin boys (and out here, weren't they almost all Slytherins? What a notion!) had planned, but judging by Celestia Prewett’s recent attempts to avoid both Newt and Leta, it couldn’t be anything good. This could be a nice evening. It was the first time he and Leta were doing something together outside of school, and she was looking so beautiful. Well, she was always beautiful, but in the dark-blue frock that she was wearing, and with her dark hair pinned up, she looked as if she’d walked right out of a fairy tale.
Mrs Lestrange didn’t look like she shared her husband’s optimism at all. “We’ll make do, Gareth, but don’t expect us to actually enjoy the company of these pompous snobs, or their tendency to throw their money in everyone’s faces like it makes them better than us.”
“You just don’t know them like I do, dear,” he said, unfazed. “I have faith that one day, both you and Leta will come around to our way of viewing the world.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” Mrs Lestrange replied, but took her husband’s hand and intertwined her fingers with his.
So far, Newt had never once seen either be impatient with the other. He’d expect Mr Lestrange to keep his emotions bottled up in front of a strange boy, but Mrs Lestrange wore her heart on her sleeve. Finally, their automobile halted, and a uniformed man opened the back door to let them out. Minding his manners and the fact that Leta’s attire was rather unwieldy, Newt helped her outside, and she thanked him with a sweet smile and a nod. He offered her his arm, and together they followed her parents through the front door into the huge entrance hall that Newt’s parents’ house could probably fit into twice. It was high-ceilinged, had dark walls, a stone floor mostly covered by a dark-red carpet, and was rather dimly illuminated.
It was impossible not to be awed at such beauty, as swanky as it might be.
There were a lot of people arriving at the same time, filing into the house at an ambling pace, all heading toward the generous patrons, Janus and Pandora Malfoy. When the Lestranges and their plus one got to them, they smiled, shook hands, said some generic pleasantries. Leta, who’d already been here a few times, led Newt into the humongous drawing room. To him, it was more a ballroom than anything else: rectangular, twice as big as Hogwarts’s Great Hall, it was festively decorated and sparkled in extravagant splendour.
It was probably better not to think about how much all of this costed.
“I do believe you children can have a glass of champagne or two,” Mr Lestrange said, winked at his daughter, and ignored the pointed look his wife gave him. “Go mingle. We’ll do the same.” He offered Mrs Lestrange his arm, and they took off together.
The room was filling up quickly. There were many faces Newt recognised from either school or the press, but also many others he’d never seen before. It didn’t matter. They probably wouldn’t want much to do with him, and he would in all likelihood not interact with any of them again in the foreseeable future.
That was when two all-too familiar faces spotted him and Leta and began to approach.
Leta saw this, turned her back to the newcomers, and rolled her eyes. “Perfect.”
“Lestrange! Scamander! Welcome!” Alastair Fawley’s voice greeted cheerily. Both Leta and Newt turned to see him smile broadly at them. He was holding hands with Celestia Prewett. “You two clean up nice, as the vernacular goes.”
“What do you want?” Leta said, not even trying to mask her apprehension. That always translated as hostility in her case. She didn’t like to show people any kind of emotional vulnerability.
Alastair shrugged. “Nothing at all,” he said, chipper. “I really hope that by the end of the evening, we’ll all be on equal footing.” Celestia pressed her lips together and looked away, to which Alastair elbowed her in the side. “Anyway, my lovely companion and myself will be around, should you feel the sudden need for emotional support. Far be it from a son of the proud Fawley family to turn his back on a wayward distant cousin who’s found her way back into the loving arms of the community!” Theatrically, he waved his free arm in an arc in front of Leta and Newt’s faces, as if painting the picture of a brighter future.
“How nice,” Leta said, making a face.
He grinned. “Isn't it just? Anyway, see you two lovebirds around. Celestia, darling? Let’s dazzle the masses.” Without waiting for a reply, he started pulling Celestia, who gave Newt and Leta an apologetic look, away, toward a cluster of their Slytherin friends.
For a moment, the two Hufflepuffs watched them leave in baffled silence.
“Maybe it won’t be so bad,” Newt said, sensing that his friend was seething to the point of explosion.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a couple of seconds, and then offered him a pained little smile. “Maybe. But whatever happens, at least you’re here with me.”
“Yes,” he said, feeling warm in the face and a little light-headed. “I’m not going anywhere.”
2 It almost looked as if nothing was going to happen. At least two hours went by, during which music played, people talked and laughed and ate and drank, glasses clinked, heels clicked on the stone floor – the usual. Receptions such as this were all the same, in the end, even if some were big and some were small, but no matter what the locale, a cocktail party remained a cocktail party.
Leta and Newt kept pretty much to themselves. She was wary of everyone but her parents, who weren't paying her much attention at the moment. He simply didn’t know anyone apart from the Slytherin kids. That ended in both Hufflepuffs standing around smack in the middle of the room by themselves, talking in hushed tones as Leta kept glancing about herself, suspicious. At some point, they were approached by Morgan Prewett, the head of Hufflepuff. It was a tad odd to see him in dress robes, but they suited him.
“Miss Lestrange, Mister Scamander,” he greeted jovially. His pale, angular face was a bit flushed, and he carried a half-full champagne flute in one hand. Well, at least he was having a good time. “Lovely to see you two here. Lovely.” Leaning in a little, he added, “To be honest, it’s good not to be basically the only Hufflepuff at one of these events,” in a rather conspiratorial tone. “There’ll be the odd one, sure, but most of the time, it’s only me, the barely tolerated black sheep.”
“I’d invite you to a party over these arrogant snots every day of the week,” Leta said disdainfully. Her eyes grew wider. She clearly remembered whose father Professor Prewett was. “Sir, I didn’t mean to offend.”
Professor Prewett waved off. “It’s all right. It took me a while to get used to all of Estella’s relatives and friends, too. She has a good many cousins who’ve never warmed up to me, but they’d never say anything to my face. In these circles, it certainly pays off to be a Pureblood.” He sighed rather theatrically and took a healthy gulp out of his glass, nearly emptying it. “Anyway. I’d half expected you to abscond to the gardens to get a peek at whatever animal life is crawling about out there, Mister Scamander.”
The remark made Newt smile a little. “Maybe if I were here by myself, but I wouldn’t leave my companion.”
“How gallant of you,” Professor Prewett said, and comradely patted Newt’s slim shoulder. “You’re good students: both you of. I’m sure you’ll be-”
The piercing ‘cling’ sound of someone tapping a metal object against glass cut through the cavernous hall, and soon, all conversation died down. People turned, sought the origin of the interrupting noise, and found seventeen-year-old Ares Malfoy, Janus and Pandora’s eldest, gently hitting a silver spoon against a champagne flute.
When the silence was all but absolute, Ares – and he and Apollo really looked like twins, didn’t they? – smiled thinly at everyone. He was tall, wore his almost white hair short and neatly parted on the side, always dressed in black, and didn’t strike Newt as the kind of person who’d ever got dirt under his fingernails. “Ladies and gentlemen, this Yule it falls on me to welcome you all into our humble abode. My family and I thank you for accepting our invitation and thus proving your friendship to us.”
There was polite clapping all around, as Newt and Leta just exchanged a knowing look.
Glibly, Ares continued, “Every Yule, as most of you already know, it is traditional for one of our illustrious guests to make a speech commemorating the year that has passed and offering an outlook for the one that will soon follow. Like always, one of you has volunteered for this honour.”
Again, people clapped.
Newt chanced a look to his left, where, not far away, Celestia, Alastair, and Apollo were standing. She was frowning a little, watching Ares and glancing at the other two apprehensively, arms crossed below her chest. Apollo was smiling a little, and Alastair looked positively giddy.
Oh, no.
That was when it happened. Ares’s pale blue eyes found Leta’s brown ones, and he briefly inclined his head toward her. “I’d like to call Miss Leta Lestrange to the metaphorical stage.”
Everyone’s eyes found her. Colour drained from her face. She grabbed Newt’s sleeve. Her eyes were huge. Her parents were close, watching with avid interest. The seconds ticked by. Nothing happened. Someone cleared their throat. Someone else coughed. There were a few whispers. Farther back, a few giggles erupted.
Leta was completely at a loss. “I…”
“Well?” Ares said, thin eyebrows arched. “We’re all waiting for your eloquent words, Miss Lestrange. You’ll not disappoint your genuflecting audience, will you?”
More whispers carried across the room.
Someone said lowly, “I knew that girl was a bit dim.”
That did it. Her eyes filled with tears. She sucked in a sharp breath, turned around on her heels, and fled, even as some of their fellow Hogwarts students broke out laughing. Without even thinking about it, Newt followed after her, out of the manor and into the cold night.
3 “Leta! Hold up! Wait!” He called out after her, but she wouldn’t, instead stomping angrily down the path toward the wrought iron gates, as if she were planning to walk all the way home in nothing but a short-sleeved frock and high-heeled shoes. “Please stop.”
Thankfully, she slowed down, until she was just standing there, shaking in the cold and out of fury.
Quickly, he pulled his own robes off and draped them over her shoulders, which she allowed wordlessly. “You’ll catch your death out here,” he said, circumventing her and placing himself right in front of her.
“I don’t care!” She was sniffling, blinking, her face a flushed and contorted mask of hatred. Then, she looked up at him, saw that he was awkwardly trying to look supportive, and relaxed somewhat. “I’m so sorry, Newt. None of this is your fault.”
It really was freezing, wasn’t it? The cold blew through the thin fabric of his white shirt like a Hibernus Horridus’s breath – well, not that bad, but it was bad enough. He crossed his arms, pinning his hands under his armpits. “You can yell at me if it makes you feel better. I know it’s not personal.”
All the muscles in her face tightened. “No, but what happened in there was.” Her eyes were brimming with tears again, and she mopped at them angrily. “Why would they humiliate me like that in front of everyone? It’s not fair. What have I ever done to them?”
“It wasn’t that bad,” he said, adding, “really,” when she just gave him a thoroughly doubtful look. “Really. It was a little mean-spirited to put you in the spotlight like that, but it could’ve been a lot worse. It’ll blow over before we go back inside.”
“I’m not going back in there!”
“Yes, you are,” he said, forcing himself to uncross his arms – good God, the cold! – and place his icy, numb hands on her thin upper arms. “Even if you didn’t have to get your coat, and even if you didn’t rely on your parents to get you home, you will not admit defeat to those childish fools.”
She frowned a little, but then gave him a half-incredulous, half-amused look, and nodded. “How could I refuse, after such a motivational speech?”
“I do what I can.”
“Don’t you just?” She sniffled again, rolled her eyes, and chuckled. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?” It was nice to hear her refer to the two of them as a pair. “Anyway, you’re quite right, too – quite right. I’ll go back, pretend that I can join in those idiots’ laughter, and plot my revenge in silence.” There was a hard line to her mouth that he’d never seen before. Frankly, it was a little disconcerting. “Believe me: they won’t even know what hit them, but it’ll hit them hard.”
He felt heavy, listening to those words – heavy and tired. “Leta, don’t let this escalate. Count your losses and show them that you’re above their level.”
“No.”
“Whatever you do, it’ll only make everything worse. You can’t possibly be aware of what consequences an act of revenge might-”
Before he knew what was happening, she’d grabbed him by the collar and crushed her lips against his.
Oh. Oh, oh, oh.
He slid his arms inside the robes he’d dressed her in and hugged her around the waist, as she put her arms around his neck. When she opened her mouth, he did, too.
The cold wasn’t gone, but somehow, it didn’t seem to matter as much anymore.