A mother’s war: Cléone Malfoy, nee de l'Étrangé It’s so qui

A mother’s war: Cléone Malfoy, nee de l'Étrangé

It’s so quiet, she says, out of the blue and Lucius starts, so quiet. Like a tomb. A grrreat big marble tomb, now that he is gone.

Do you know what zey told me? she asks him, Dragon pox. Dragon pox! Ha. I told zem, he’s never had a day’s illness in his life. Strong as an ox, that one. Dragon pox, dragon pox, dragon pox. No no no no no. It is something else.

Lucius raises his eyebrows, something else, mother?

She rolls her eyes, blessed Cernunnos, have you no imagination?

You mean, Lucius hesitates, Nobby Leach?

No, she shakes her head decisively, not Monsieur Leach. He is not smart enough, creative enough. Besides he is entirely too honorable. Very much brave - eh, Gryffindor? Oui. If it was legal maybe a duel, but not so. This is something else.

She does not notice the way her son has gone very still. The way his knuckles turn white before he forces himself to relax.

Oh? He asks her.

Poison, Lucius. I do not - he would not tell. But he knewsomething. I know it - oh do not ask me how, it’s always like that with you and your English, how and who and where and why, I do not know, I just knowit. It wasn’t natural. You know it. You saw it. Say it.

Lucius pauses and then takes the plunge, Yes.

It is the work of a cunning mind. Smart and ruthless. Like these, how do you call them? Eh, your house, mon cher. Slytherin? Oui. But we are all from Slytherin here, are we not?

He nods weakly and forces himself to breathe evenly.

Lucius - she stretches her hand out and grasps his hand - Lucius my son, mon cher. You loved him, did you not?

How could I not? he answers simply, gently rubbing her fingers, not allowing himself to think.

Thenfind them, Lucius. Find them. Hurt them. Hurt them as they hurt us. Please,for me. Your maman.

He lifts her hand and presses his lips against her fingers, Of course maman, he murmurs.

She does not see how he holds his left arm stiff by his side as he leaves the room.