Wraith Chpt. 18

Chapter Eighteen: Appearances




Appearances often are deceiving.




Sitting in his parlor, Lucius Malfoy seemed to be intently studying the wall across from him, almost as if the wallpaper held some secret he was deciphering. It wasn't until his wife entered the room, looking drawn, that he seemed to snap out of it.

"Narcissa?" he said, standing. "What is it?"

"People at the gates," she said quickly. "I think it's Fenrir and his Snatchers."

Lucius frowned. "Snatchers? What use are they now that Hogwarts has closed?"

"I don't know," Narcissa said, "but they seem to have a captive."

They waited together in the parlor as the front doors opened to allow Fenrir and those with him inside. Fenrir Greyback flashed a grimy smile at the Malfoys as he entered the room, and two shorter wizards dragged a semi-conscious young man into the room, his arms bound behind his back and a rag stuffed into his mouth.

"Is this who I think it is?" Lucius asked, stepping closer.

"The Longbottom boy," Fenrir said, "caught him outside the Leaky Cauldron."

"He's been quite the troublemaker," Lucius said, rubbing his chin as he thought. "In and out of Hogwarts. Hm…" He smiled and snapped his fingers at the two wizards holding the boy up. "Take him down to the cellar. There are chains on the far wall from when the Wandmaker was held there. Make sure he stays put."   

Fenrir took a step forward, pointing a clawed finger at Lucius. "If you think yer taking the credit for this, Malfoy…"

"The Dark Lord is expected tonight," Lucius snapped impatiently. "He's here almost every night to see his Wraith. So be patient, Fenrir."

The werewolf scowled, but turned and nodded to the Snatchers. Together, they disappeared into the hall.

Neville groaned as they dragged him across the gleaming marble floor towards the cellar door. He lifted his head briefly and caught sight of the young woman standing on the stairwell as he was pulled past it.

Wraith frowned, watching the strangers drag the beaten boy out of sight. She hurried down the steps and into the parlor, where Lucius and Narcissa were speaking in hushed, but delighted tones to each other. They fell silent the moment that she entered.

Wraith felt their fear like a cold wind, but she attempted a smile despite it. "Good news?" she asked lightly. When they hesitated to answer, Wraith blinked. "I saw the captive. Is he important?"

"Yes," Lucius said at last.

"Then I'm sure the Dark Lord will be pleased with you," she said simply. She glanced at the window and the darkening sky beyond. "He'll be here shortly," she announced. Wraith turned and started for the door, but paused as Fenrir and his group returned.

Fenrir grinned at the sight of her, old blood still staining his sharp teeth. "Well, well," he said, circling around her. Wraith was silent, her face expressionless, but Narcissa suspected that the glint in her eye was humor. "Aren't you a tasty little thing?"

"Greyback--" Lucius started warningly.

"This a schoolmate of yer boy?" Fenrir asked, ignoring the warning. "Kid's got good taste. Think he'd share with his old pal Fenrir?"

"Careful," Wraith said gently when she felt he had gotten close enough.

"Of what?" Fenrir smirked.

Wraith smiled back and everyone else in the room backed up a step.

"Things are often more than they appear," she told him, her voice low. She noted his sharp teeth and the way that he curled his hands into claws. "…A werewolf ought to know better," she admonished.

Fenrir lost his smirk and suddenly reached for her. She stepped back, in the same movement lifted her hand towards him. The werewolf let out an abrupt howl of pain, clutching the hand that had reached for her.

There was a deep slash across his filthy palm, making it impossible for him to close his hand. He howled again and growled at Wraith, who continued to smile despite the threat.

"Care to try again? You've still got one hand."

Fenrir growled once more, but he backed away from her, still clutching his wounded hand.

"You must be Fenrir Greyback," Wraith said slowly. "I've heard of you."

"And who the hell are you?" he snarled.

"My name is Wraith," she replied evenly and she smirked when the werewolf paled beneath the grime. "Ah, I see that you've heard of me too."

She turned, heading for the door again. "Be more careful in the future, werewolf." She paused and looked back to Narcissa. "…Sorry about the blood on the carpet." And she was gone, shutting the doors sharply behind her.

Lucius let out a breath and smacked Fenrir smartly on the back of the head. "Idiot," he hissed.

Outside, Wraith hurried down the path and out past the gate. On the outside path, she met the Dark Lord, as she had expected to.

"You look unusually pleased with yourself, my pet," Voldemort commented, offering his arm to her.

She took it and walked alongside him. "I just met Greyback," she explained. "We had a very informative discussion concerning appearances and, ah, personal space."

Voldemort smiled approvingly. "And did he survive this 'informative discussion' of yours?"

"Of course," Wraith replied lightly. "There's no point in teaching lessons to dead dogs."

"I take it that you don't care for him?"

"Not particularly," Wraith said, though she smiled.

As they entered the Manor, Wraith let go of his arm to walk a step behind him before they reached the parlor. Those still gathered inside quickly bowed to the Dark Lord before Lucius hurried to speak.

"My Lord, we have the Longbottom boy--"

"I captured 'im!" Fenrir interjected angrily. He still held his bleeding hand, though now it was wrapped crudely with fabric torn from his already frayed shirt.

Voldemort lifted a hand for silence. He turned his eyes to Lucius. "Longbottom? You have him below?"

"Yes, my Lord," Lucius replied proudly.

"Good. Perhaps he can serve as a gift for Bella," Voldemort said, settling into his usual chair, "Since she has behaved herself so well these past few weeks."

Wraith smirked at that, but said nothing as she settled at his feet. Her smirk faltered briefly as she recalled the boy's face before he had been dragged out of sight.




July had only just begun when Draco brought several of his friends home. His parents had the feeling that he wanted a hint of his old life and allowed houseroom to Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and Zabini without argument. When they arrived, Draco took them immediately upstairs to his room, wanting to avoid any visiting Death Eaters…and Wraith as well.

But just outside Draco's door, the last of group, Zabini paused, having caught sight of someone entering the library. A small smile came to his handsome face and he waved off from the others. "I'll be right back," he said.

"Where are you going?" Draco demanded.

"The loo, back off."

But he too slipped into the library, craning around the shelves to find her. When he saw her again, she was searching the shelf in front of her with a purposeful air. She glanced at him once, acknowledging his presence, but said nothing and immediately turned back to the books.

Zabini cleared his throat quietly and smiled just slightly. "Maybe I could help you find something? I've been 'round here a lot."

"And I've lived here for seven months," Wraith replied dryly and she glanced at him again. "Thanks anyway."

"Oh." Zabini was vaguely annoyed that she was being so dismissive of him. "Sorry, I hadn't realized."

Wraith looked at him a little longer then. "You're a friend of Draco's, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Zabini said, smiling again. He slipped around the other side of the shelf and peered through the books at her.

"What's your name?" she asked him as she walked along the shelf.

"Blaise," he replied, "Blaise Zabini."

"Blaise, do you know who I am?"

He blinked, thrown by the abrupt question. "I don't think so. Should I?" he asked, trying for charm again.

They reached the end of the shelf and Wraith sighed, leaning against it. She crossed her arms as Blaise smiled down at her.

"My name is Wraith," she told him.

Zabini's eyes widened, but he recovered quickly. Wraith sensed an air of disbelief and contempt. She found it almost refreshing.

"You're the Wraith?" he said suspiciously. "You expect me to believe that you're the Dark Lord's Executioner? The Lady Death?"

"Alright," Wraith said, backing up a couple of steps. She spread her arms in an invitation. "You want proof? Try a spell, Zabini."

"What?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Try to cast a spell on me. Anything you can think of. Go on," she taunted, "Or are you afraid?"

  Zabini colored and took his wand out. He hesitated a moment more, but her mocking expression goaded him into it. "Stupefy!"

There was a quick flash of red light and Zabini smirked. But when the light faded, his jaw dropped.

"Want to try another?" Wraith asked him, smiling blandly. When Zabini mutely shook his head, her smile melted like ice from her face. "Believe me now?" She snatched up a book at random and started for the door.

Zabini stumbled after her. "Wait!"

She stopped, surprised.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I should have believed you."

"You aren't the first to make that mistake," she told him. She frowned, tilting her head to the side. "What do you want?" she asked curiously.

Zabini coughed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Do you ever, you know, go out?"

"What? Leave the Manor?" she scoffed. "Often enough."

"No, I mean…not to, uh, work, just to go out?"

"Not really," she replied slowly, still trying to work out his meaning. "Zabini, you're going to have to be a little more straightforward here."

"I was…wondering if I could take you out for an evening," Zabini told her.

"Oh." Wraith blinked as she realized what he was saying. "I--I'll have to get back to you on that."

"'Get back to me'? What do you mean?"

She shrugged. "I mean… that I think I'll need the Dark Lord's approval. I'd have to ask him first."

Zabini smiled again and took a small step towards her. "And if he does approve?" he asked slowly.

"…We'll see," she replied evasively. She tilted her head again, studying him, and not really trusting his smooth smile. "Like I said--I'll get back to you."

With the final word, she turned on her heel and left him in the library alone.