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Jul. 31st, 2005 07:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
icarusDid a re-write, also much further along (and at a better stopping place). Man, this story's been driving me nuts.
The Metronome
By Icarus
Afternoon sun pooled on the plush oriental rug, warming burgundy and greens to a soft glow. The window let in barely a breath of wind, playing with the curtains in an unkind tease of freedom. Books and mahogany shelves clustered with artfully arranged family trinkets lined the walls, most of them cursed, the work of centuries of dark wizards. These deadly displays were interspersed with low tables and the occasional heavy framed mirror. A candelabra on the drawing room harpsicord was unlit given the lovely summer's day, while the metronome beside it clicked an insistent, steady beat.
Lucius sat straight-backed, his fingers poised over the keys as his tutor paced the room, nose in the air, hands folded thoughtfully behind his back.
"That was better, Master Malfoy, much better," he crooned, buttons stretched over his pot-belly. "Let's have it once again."
The subtle slump of Lucius' broad shoulders was barely detectable, an unheard sigh, though his eyes remained fixed on the music in front of him. The notes crawled like insects across the page, tumbling over each other until they reformed into the beginning of the piece. His eyes narrowed as a final quarter note, tardy, scrambled into place.
Click, click, click…. The metronome set the pace.
With cold, crisp precision, Lucius' hands floated over the keys, his body unmoving, eyes forward, mouth a firm disciplined line. His teacher's head bobbed; one finger circled, mapping the notes in the air.
Lucius completed the crescendo and the final chord, finally seeming to breathe as he glanced up, steady blue eyes hopeful, at his tutor. Sometimes he was released a few minutes early.
The man nodded. "Good, good."
He reached over and tapped the sheet music with his wand and the notes scrambled in circles again. "Now let's try an adagio, something with a little more, hmm, feeling for a young man like you, eh? A little more evocative?"
He gave Lucius a tight-lipped smile at odds with the praise. He always asked for more feeling. The metronome continued its steady pace.
Lucius' eyes flicked only briefly at the window, as the curtains stirred once again.
~*~*~
His tutor had been effusive in his compliments of Lucius' artistry before Lucius could escape.
Second-best broom in hand, Lucius bounded down a long hall of scowling chiaroscuro portraits, deftly stunned an Aleovuncular fern outside his father's library as it made a grab for him, then turned the corner to the front door…
…just in time to find his mother in the hall in front of the mirror, her gloved hands removing a hatpin as she shook her head, fluffing silver-blonde hair. She arranged it delicately around her bird-like features. She stuck the pin into a house-elf who yelped, "Thank you, mistress!" She ignored it as her eyes caught sight of Lucius, paused behind her in the mirror.
"Oh Lucius, there you are…."
He hurriedly bent to kiss her cheek and edged around her towards the door. "Hello mummy, I'm going outside to—"
"No, you're not," she cut him off, and gestured for him to follow. "I can't have you disappearing now, dear. Your aunt Elsie and the Blacks are visiting this evening."
Lucius' face fell. "But Avery is…."
"You can practice your Quidditch later. I'm sure you'll make Chaser this year at least. You're a such a talented boy." She patted his cheek, though Lucius' eyes shifted away.
With an irritated sigh he trailed in her wake, resigned, adjusting his grip on his broom. They made their way through a maze of hallways towards the kitchens.
Stepping into the kitchen there was a sudden scramble of house-elfs quickly punishing themselves as they caught sight of her. His mother ran a tight ship. She extracted her wand from her handbag and with a flourish, lists of work scrolled down from the air, along with her specifications for the evening's hors d'oeuvres. Lucius peered around at a house-elf's series of mixing bowls and scooped up a fingerful of cake batter. His mother slapped his hand away. "Don't spoil your supper."
"I won't," he said, ignoring her as he licked his finger. He snapped up an apple and polished it on his sleeve then took a large bite.
"Are you certain you're not a centaur?" She smiled fondly at him, fingernails straightening his long blond hair. "You do nothing but eat these days."
He grinned at her, mouth still full. He quickly swallowed his bite. "So… the Blacks are coming over?" he prompted, eyebrows raised. "Including…?"
"Mrs Black," his mother said slyly.
"And Bella?"
"We have Narcissa in mind for you actually."
"Ugh," Lucius groaned, looking away.
"No whinging."
"She's so…" Skinny. And flat-chested. "… boring. They're both Blacks."
"Yes, well unfortunately Bellatrix has saddled herself with a bit of a reputation," his mother sniffed.
Not to mention a body that wouldn't quit. Lucius folded his arms and leaned back against the countertop. He'd be the envy of Hogwarts if he scored Bellatrix Black. Bellatrix… tied to him for life. It was an appealing thought.
"… the Blacks are going to have a terrible time finding a match for her," his mother was saying.
"People just don't like it that she's attractive." Lucius examined his nails. In truth, gorgeous was the word. "Not to mention… mmm… vivacious and fun-loving." He phrased it very, very carefully.
His mother wasn't fooled. "She's far too much 'fun' I am told."
She seized Lucius' chin in a vise-like grip and looked fiercely into his face, her own cold blue eyes sparking as they met his, her penciled brows raised. A prickle went down the back of his neck. "Promise me that you're not sleeping with her, my darling. Are you?"
Lucius yanked his chin free, affronted. "No!"
Though not for lack of trying.
"Good." She seemed satisfied, and nodded once. "At least with Narcissa you will know that your children—" Lucius flinched. "—will actually be yours."
That's because nobody wants to fuck that twig, Lucius thought, but didn't dare say. He shifted from one foot to another. He was compared to centaur, then told he was growing like a horse, and now his family discussed him like a prized stud being sent out to breed.
"Lucius." His mother brought him up short, her expression far too knowing, and he glowered at her. "You'll thank me later." Then she swatted his bottom like he was still a nine-year-old, shoving him in the direction of his rooms.
"Now get dressed. Mr Clavier has had wonderful things to say about your playing. You have your father's talent." She patted his shoulder. "We look forward to hearing you play this evening."
What? His mouth fell open in dismay, but he decided not to argue. Instead he pointed out, "Avery's coming over tonight."
He managed to keep the smile off his face. It was a subtle revenge, if effective.
She frowned. "Lucius. He's really not the sort that you should be…."
"I cannot cancel," he insisted, pressing his advantage. "Father is still negotiating with his family and if we…."
"Fine, fine, yes I know," she interrupted irritably. She put a hand to her temples. "What this world is coming to that we associate with the Averys of all people. He can come," she held up a finger, "but he must wait in the kitchens."
Which was a gross insult, but Avery wouldn't know any better. He'd just eat. Lucius nodded and slung his broom over his shoulder, grateful for the coming reprieve.
~*~*~
Firelight sparkled on wineglasses and silver trays floated through the air as Lucius played for his rapt audience. The formal over-layer of his robes had a stiff collar which chafed a little as his mother's friends clapped. He bobbed his head in a small, mocking bow, and attempted a smile – though it probably came out as more of a sneer. They didn't notice.
"Wonderful, simply wonderful!" his aunt Elsie enthused, clapping tiny hands in front of her large belly, earrings bouncing.
"He has his father's talent. I always told you," another nodded sagely.
"The spitting image of his father at that age," his mother agreed.
Two of their other guests were lost in conversation, ignoring him as they clapped a little absently. "I'm telling you, all the signs point to it: there's another Dark Wizard in the offing. Strange energies in the wind. My ravens are very disturbed, very much, as they haven't been since Grindelwald."
"My cards are never wrong," the other added, bobbing her head. "I'm getting the Tower almost every day. Change. Destruction, I say."
Lucius scowled at them in irritation.
"Yes, that was quite lovely my boy," Mrs Black said, capturing his attention as she leaned forward to accept another hors d'oeuvres, sizing him up with acquisitive eyes. He dismissed the two inattentive witches.
She had long black hair like Bellatrix, and wore red robes with a deep, plunging neckline that revealed a bit too much of her sagging breasts. Lucius politely kissed her hand, carefully keeping his gaze on her face. There were dark brown circles under her deep-set eyes, heavily rouged lips, with a sad lingering trace of wilted beauty. As his mother nattered on and on about his accomplishments, his top marks in his Owls, his skill at Transfiguration and so on, he cringed inwardly and wondered if maybe Narcissa might be the better option after all.
He asked to be excused, let his aunt Elsie pat his cheek and comment (yet again) on how handsome he'd grown "such shoulders on the boy! Why I remember when he was just a little thing on his first broom…" and finally escaped, striding through the back halls. He tore the uncomfortable over-robe off on the way to the kitchens and tossed it to a house-elf, leaving a struggling lump on the floor.
Avery was already there, a spoonful of custard halfway to his mouth.
"Ready?"
The sun was setting as the two of them escaped to the Malfoy lawns, backlit against the sky. As their brooms rose, the large dot of the Quaffle passed back and forth between them. Then the shadow that was Lucius seized the ball, and suddenly tore off for the forest, leaning low on his broom, ponytail streaming behind him. The laughing Avery, stockier but more agile, spun about and quickly gained ground.
At the edge of the forest, with Lucius' home a dark collection of buildings like a small city in the distance, the two boys paused and caught their breath. They hovered in midair, chests heaving, relaxed and energized, on the verge of laughter. Lucius had managed to hold onto the Quaffle this time and now tossed it from one hand to another.
"It went rather well," he said smugly. He spun the Quaffle between his fingertips. "The recital, I mean. Apparently I have my father's talent."
Avery laughed at him, narrow black eyes squinting at him. "A lot of bollocks that is. You've got a tin ear, Lucius. My uncle owns a cow with more musical sense than you."
Lucius paused briefly. Then continued tossing the Quaffle hand to hand. He never knew if he was more offended or amused by Avery. Though in this case he was right.
Lucius decided he was definitely amused today. He tossed Avery the Quaffle, though he added, "Oh by the way: my family is negotiating a possible marriage contract. It's still in the works of course…."
"With who?"
"The Blacks."
"Bellatrix Black?!" Avery's jaw fell gratifyingly.
"They're still cobbling together the details." Though Lucius was sure he could talk his mother into the prettier sister. Malfoys didn't accept second best.
Avery rolled his eyes in envy. "Oh, it's official: Lucius Malfoy's got everything."
"Maybe I should try her out first, make sure she's everything she's meant to be," Lucius drawled.
Avery threw the quaffle at him, hard. "Fuck you!"
Lucius caught it easily, chuckling.
Avery hovered lower on his broom, casting a quick glance over his shoulders. "You don't, er, think your dad has a way to watch you all the way out here, do you?" he asked in a hushed voice.
Lucius was mildly amused at the thought of his father having that much imagination. His mother on the other hand…. "No," he wrinkled his nose. "I doubt it."
Avery lowered his voice still further, moving his broom a little closer. "I may have a connection you might want to meet." He wiped his upper lip nervously. He was sweating. "A wizard."
"Unlike us," Lucius snorted, though his curiosity was piqued. He took in Avery's uncharacteristic nervousness with a sharp glance.
"Like no one you've ever met," Avery exhaled.
"Oh?"
"The name's Tom Riddle." Avery paused, his eager eyes searching Lucius' face as if seeking a response. Lucius frowned. The name did sound familiar.
"Tom Riddle… Tom… wait. Didn't he work for that junk shop – Borgin and Burkes?" It had been years.
"That's no junk shop," Avery's eyes widened. "It's the best dark artefact store in Knockturn Alley!"
But Lucius was already shaking his head sadly. "It's rubbish. And nothing compared to what my family alone owns." Not to mention the Black family heirlooms. It occurred to him that those were going to be his as well.
Avery waved this thought away as if it were no matter. "Anyhow, he's not Tom Riddle any more. He's going by Lord Voldemort these days."
"Lord what?" Lucius started laughing at the upstart. The junk dealer that would be king.
"He's a hell of a wizard, Lucius," Avery urged him anxiously. "He knows stuff no one has even heard of." He glanced around again. "I can bring you to see him."
"I have the honor of meeting Lord Voldemort, the junk collector?" Lucius said doubtfully with a smirk.
"Yeah." Avery was serious.
Lucius licked his lips, his eyes sparkling. This was going to be entertaining at the very least. "All right then." He spun the Quaffle between his fingers. "Set up a time."
The Metronome
By Icarus
Afternoon sun pooled on the plush oriental rug, warming burgundy and greens to a soft glow. The window let in barely a breath of wind, playing with the curtains in an unkind tease of freedom. Books and mahogany shelves clustered with artfully arranged family trinkets lined the walls, most of them cursed, the work of centuries of dark wizards. These deadly displays were interspersed with low tables and the occasional heavy framed mirror. A candelabra on the drawing room harpsicord was unlit given the lovely summer's day, while the metronome beside it clicked an insistent, steady beat.
Lucius sat straight-backed, his fingers poised over the keys as his tutor paced the room, nose in the air, hands folded thoughtfully behind his back.
"That was better, Master Malfoy, much better," he crooned, buttons stretched over his pot-belly. "Let's have it once again."
The subtle slump of Lucius' broad shoulders was barely detectable, an unheard sigh, though his eyes remained fixed on the music in front of him. The notes crawled like insects across the page, tumbling over each other until they reformed into the beginning of the piece. His eyes narrowed as a final quarter note, tardy, scrambled into place.
Click, click, click…. The metronome set the pace.
With cold, crisp precision, Lucius' hands floated over the keys, his body unmoving, eyes forward, mouth a firm disciplined line. His teacher's head bobbed; one finger circled, mapping the notes in the air.
Lucius completed the crescendo and the final chord, finally seeming to breathe as he glanced up, steady blue eyes hopeful, at his tutor. Sometimes he was released a few minutes early.
The man nodded. "Good, good."
He reached over and tapped the sheet music with his wand and the notes scrambled in circles again. "Now let's try an adagio, something with a little more, hmm, feeling for a young man like you, eh? A little more evocative?"
He gave Lucius a tight-lipped smile at odds with the praise. He always asked for more feeling. The metronome continued its steady pace.
Lucius' eyes flicked only briefly at the window, as the curtains stirred once again.
~*~*~
His tutor had been effusive in his compliments of Lucius' artistry before Lucius could escape.
Second-best broom in hand, Lucius bounded down a long hall of scowling chiaroscuro portraits, deftly stunned an Aleovuncular fern outside his father's library as it made a grab for him, then turned the corner to the front door…
…just in time to find his mother in the hall in front of the mirror, her gloved hands removing a hatpin as she shook her head, fluffing silver-blonde hair. She arranged it delicately around her bird-like features. She stuck the pin into a house-elf who yelped, "Thank you, mistress!" She ignored it as her eyes caught sight of Lucius, paused behind her in the mirror.
"Oh Lucius, there you are…."
He hurriedly bent to kiss her cheek and edged around her towards the door. "Hello mummy, I'm going outside to—"
"No, you're not," she cut him off, and gestured for him to follow. "I can't have you disappearing now, dear. Your aunt Elsie and the Blacks are visiting this evening."
Lucius' face fell. "But Avery is…."
"You can practice your Quidditch later. I'm sure you'll make Chaser this year at least. You're a such a talented boy." She patted his cheek, though Lucius' eyes shifted away.
With an irritated sigh he trailed in her wake, resigned, adjusting his grip on his broom. They made their way through a maze of hallways towards the kitchens.
Stepping into the kitchen there was a sudden scramble of house-elfs quickly punishing themselves as they caught sight of her. His mother ran a tight ship. She extracted her wand from her handbag and with a flourish, lists of work scrolled down from the air, along with her specifications for the evening's hors d'oeuvres. Lucius peered around at a house-elf's series of mixing bowls and scooped up a fingerful of cake batter. His mother slapped his hand away. "Don't spoil your supper."
"I won't," he said, ignoring her as he licked his finger. He snapped up an apple and polished it on his sleeve then took a large bite.
"Are you certain you're not a centaur?" She smiled fondly at him, fingernails straightening his long blond hair. "You do nothing but eat these days."
He grinned at her, mouth still full. He quickly swallowed his bite. "So… the Blacks are coming over?" he prompted, eyebrows raised. "Including…?"
"Mrs Black," his mother said slyly.
"And Bella?"
"We have Narcissa in mind for you actually."
"Ugh," Lucius groaned, looking away.
"No whinging."
"She's so…" Skinny. And flat-chested. "… boring. They're both Blacks."
"Yes, well unfortunately Bellatrix has saddled herself with a bit of a reputation," his mother sniffed.
Not to mention a body that wouldn't quit. Lucius folded his arms and leaned back against the countertop. He'd be the envy of Hogwarts if he scored Bellatrix Black. Bellatrix… tied to him for life. It was an appealing thought.
"… the Blacks are going to have a terrible time finding a match for her," his mother was saying.
"People just don't like it that she's attractive." Lucius examined his nails. In truth, gorgeous was the word. "Not to mention… mmm… vivacious and fun-loving." He phrased it very, very carefully.
His mother wasn't fooled. "She's far too much 'fun' I am told."
She seized Lucius' chin in a vise-like grip and looked fiercely into his face, her own cold blue eyes sparking as they met his, her penciled brows raised. A prickle went down the back of his neck. "Promise me that you're not sleeping with her, my darling. Are you?"
Lucius yanked his chin free, affronted. "No!"
Though not for lack of trying.
"Good." She seemed satisfied, and nodded once. "At least with Narcissa you will know that your children—" Lucius flinched. "—will actually be yours."
That's because nobody wants to fuck that twig, Lucius thought, but didn't dare say. He shifted from one foot to another. He was compared to centaur, then told he was growing like a horse, and now his family discussed him like a prized stud being sent out to breed.
"Lucius." His mother brought him up short, her expression far too knowing, and he glowered at her. "You'll thank me later." Then she swatted his bottom like he was still a nine-year-old, shoving him in the direction of his rooms.
"Now get dressed. Mr Clavier has had wonderful things to say about your playing. You have your father's talent." She patted his shoulder. "We look forward to hearing you play this evening."
What? His mouth fell open in dismay, but he decided not to argue. Instead he pointed out, "Avery's coming over tonight."
He managed to keep the smile off his face. It was a subtle revenge, if effective.
She frowned. "Lucius. He's really not the sort that you should be…."
"I cannot cancel," he insisted, pressing his advantage. "Father is still negotiating with his family and if we…."
"Fine, fine, yes I know," she interrupted irritably. She put a hand to her temples. "What this world is coming to that we associate with the Averys of all people. He can come," she held up a finger, "but he must wait in the kitchens."
Which was a gross insult, but Avery wouldn't know any better. He'd just eat. Lucius nodded and slung his broom over his shoulder, grateful for the coming reprieve.
~*~*~
Firelight sparkled on wineglasses and silver trays floated through the air as Lucius played for his rapt audience. The formal over-layer of his robes had a stiff collar which chafed a little as his mother's friends clapped. He bobbed his head in a small, mocking bow, and attempted a smile – though it probably came out as more of a sneer. They didn't notice.
"Wonderful, simply wonderful!" his aunt Elsie enthused, clapping tiny hands in front of her large belly, earrings bouncing.
"He has his father's talent. I always told you," another nodded sagely.
"The spitting image of his father at that age," his mother agreed.
Two of their other guests were lost in conversation, ignoring him as they clapped a little absently. "I'm telling you, all the signs point to it: there's another Dark Wizard in the offing. Strange energies in the wind. My ravens are very disturbed, very much, as they haven't been since Grindelwald."
"My cards are never wrong," the other added, bobbing her head. "I'm getting the Tower almost every day. Change. Destruction, I say."
Lucius scowled at them in irritation.
"Yes, that was quite lovely my boy," Mrs Black said, capturing his attention as she leaned forward to accept another hors d'oeuvres, sizing him up with acquisitive eyes. He dismissed the two inattentive witches.
She had long black hair like Bellatrix, and wore red robes with a deep, plunging neckline that revealed a bit too much of her sagging breasts. Lucius politely kissed her hand, carefully keeping his gaze on her face. There were dark brown circles under her deep-set eyes, heavily rouged lips, with a sad lingering trace of wilted beauty. As his mother nattered on and on about his accomplishments, his top marks in his Owls, his skill at Transfiguration and so on, he cringed inwardly and wondered if maybe Narcissa might be the better option after all.
He asked to be excused, let his aunt Elsie pat his cheek and comment (yet again) on how handsome he'd grown "such shoulders on the boy! Why I remember when he was just a little thing on his first broom…" and finally escaped, striding through the back halls. He tore the uncomfortable over-robe off on the way to the kitchens and tossed it to a house-elf, leaving a struggling lump on the floor.
Avery was already there, a spoonful of custard halfway to his mouth.
"Ready?"
The sun was setting as the two of them escaped to the Malfoy lawns, backlit against the sky. As their brooms rose, the large dot of the Quaffle passed back and forth between them. Then the shadow that was Lucius seized the ball, and suddenly tore off for the forest, leaning low on his broom, ponytail streaming behind him. The laughing Avery, stockier but more agile, spun about and quickly gained ground.
At the edge of the forest, with Lucius' home a dark collection of buildings like a small city in the distance, the two boys paused and caught their breath. They hovered in midair, chests heaving, relaxed and energized, on the verge of laughter. Lucius had managed to hold onto the Quaffle this time and now tossed it from one hand to another.
"It went rather well," he said smugly. He spun the Quaffle between his fingertips. "The recital, I mean. Apparently I have my father's talent."
Avery laughed at him, narrow black eyes squinting at him. "A lot of bollocks that is. You've got a tin ear, Lucius. My uncle owns a cow with more musical sense than you."
Lucius paused briefly. Then continued tossing the Quaffle hand to hand. He never knew if he was more offended or amused by Avery. Though in this case he was right.
Lucius decided he was definitely amused today. He tossed Avery the Quaffle, though he added, "Oh by the way: my family is negotiating a possible marriage contract. It's still in the works of course…."
"With who?"
"The Blacks."
"Bellatrix Black?!" Avery's jaw fell gratifyingly.
"They're still cobbling together the details." Though Lucius was sure he could talk his mother into the prettier sister. Malfoys didn't accept second best.
Avery rolled his eyes in envy. "Oh, it's official: Lucius Malfoy's got everything."
"Maybe I should try her out first, make sure she's everything she's meant to be," Lucius drawled.
Avery threw the quaffle at him, hard. "Fuck you!"
Lucius caught it easily, chuckling.
Avery hovered lower on his broom, casting a quick glance over his shoulders. "You don't, er, think your dad has a way to watch you all the way out here, do you?" he asked in a hushed voice.
Lucius was mildly amused at the thought of his father having that much imagination. His mother on the other hand…. "No," he wrinkled his nose. "I doubt it."
Avery lowered his voice still further, moving his broom a little closer. "I may have a connection you might want to meet." He wiped his upper lip nervously. He was sweating. "A wizard."
"Unlike us," Lucius snorted, though his curiosity was piqued. He took in Avery's uncharacteristic nervousness with a sharp glance.
"Like no one you've ever met," Avery exhaled.
"Oh?"
"The name's Tom Riddle." Avery paused, his eager eyes searching Lucius' face as if seeking a response. Lucius frowned. The name did sound familiar.
"Tom Riddle… Tom… wait. Didn't he work for that junk shop – Borgin and Burkes?" It had been years.
"That's no junk shop," Avery's eyes widened. "It's the best dark artefact store in Knockturn Alley!"
But Lucius was already shaking his head sadly. "It's rubbish. And nothing compared to what my family alone owns." Not to mention the Black family heirlooms. It occurred to him that those were going to be his as well.
Avery waved this thought away as if it were no matter. "Anyhow, he's not Tom Riddle any more. He's going by Lord Voldemort these days."
"Lord what?" Lucius started laughing at the upstart. The junk dealer that would be king.
"He's a hell of a wizard, Lucius," Avery urged him anxiously. "He knows stuff no one has even heard of." He glanced around again. "I can bring you to see him."
"I have the honor of meeting Lord Voldemort, the junk collector?" Lucius said doubtfully with a smirk.
"Yeah." Avery was serious.
Lucius licked his lips, his eyes sparkling. This was going to be entertaining at the very least. "All right then." He spun the Quaffle between his fingers. "Set up a time."
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-08-01 02:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-01 07:20 pm (UTC)This story really wants to be written. But because of the heat it's been slow-going.
Icarus
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Date: 2005-08-04 05:54 am (UTC)