Chapter 3 -- Day Four
The sun shone warm upon Pansy’s face as she reclined on the grassy bank of a clear, cool brook, refreshing her feet in the swiftly moving water. Tonight, the magic brought her to a wondrous place that was as bright as the last place was dark, and as simple as the last place was mysterious. This wasn't the wolf's home; it was hers. Every rock and every tree was familiar. Every trail explored.
Behind her, at the top of the bank, a mossy path wound through an orchard that contained all manner of trees -- some in flower, and others heavy with ripe, perfectly formed fruit. Wrens warbled in the branches of the apple trees, and fat bumblebees energetically went about their work in the flowering cherries. From the orchard, the path continued to a stone cottage, which had a thatched roof and window boxes planted with pink flowers and trailing ivy. The cottage was old beyond reckoning, but it was well maintained and comfortable. Here, in this small world, her every need was met and she was safe.
Gathering her linen shift above her knees, Pansy ventured out into the brook and began to walk its length, hoping to find a spot where it was deep enough to swim. She had gone about a hundred yards when a familiar voice called to her.
“Lucius!” Her heart leaped and she ran through the trees and over the lawns, until she came to a freshly tilled field where he was leaning heavily on a plow. His shirt was open to the waist and his sleeves rolled to his elbows; his muscles, slick with the sweat and grime of a hard day's work, shone in the midday sun. Ignoring the filth, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him enthusiastically. He laughed against her lips and held his hands in the air, well away from her.
“Ma petite fleur.” He stepped back and looked down on her upturned face; the corners of his eyes wrinkled handsomely when he smiled. “You are a vision for these weary eyes.”
“You work too hard,” she gently chided, "You shouldn't be planting this field anyway; it's Draco's responsibility."
"Draco is an unnatural fool," Lucius snapped. "He plants his seed on rocks and sandy beaches where it will never take root." His expression softened and he kissed the tip of her nose. "Don't concern yourself about it. Planting your field is no burden to me."
“I still say you work too hard," said Pansy, extending her hand to him. "Come to my bed and rest…eventually.” His smile faded and he left her hand extended in the air between them.
“My hands are dirty.” He turned his hands over slowly, showing her the thick red clay that had worked its way into every pore. “I don’t want to sully you with this filth.”
“Then come with me to the brook. I’ll wash you,” she said, gesturing for him to follow her. She led him down the orchard path to the side of the water, and watched him strip off his dirty clothes and venture naked into the shallow stream. The water trailed red for a moment and then ran clear again when he leaned over and scrubbed his hands and arms. “Let me help you,” she offered cheerfully, wading into the shallows with a small tin pail containing a flannel and a bar of sandalwood soap. Starting with his neck, she worked her way down, gently washing away the grime of the day. His manhood stirred when she urged his legs apart and, kneeling before him, washed the inside of his thighs.
“That’s enough of that, my dear.”
She pouted for his benefit. This was a familiar ritual; he came to her dirty and wouldn't touch her until he was clean.
She bade him sit on a large, smooth rock and untied his hair, catching her breath when the long platinum locks fanned out over his shoulders and glowed ethereally in the bright sun. He was so beautiful and so serious. More than anything, she wanted to hear him laugh. Playfully, she filled the pail with water and emptied it over his head.
“You wicked, wicked woman!” he sputtered and laughed. He slid off the rock and shook his finger at her. “Two can play at that game.”
She threw her head back and laughed when he windmilled his arms in the water, drenching her from head to toe. Her fine, white chemise clung to her body, concealing nothing, and drew a quiet gasp of approval from Lucius. She crossed her arms over her chest, smiling shyly, and glanced at him through lowered lashes. Far from timid, she felt completely wanton, but innocence was a potent aphrodisiac for Lucius and she played the part of the bashful virgin well. Lucius stood proud and silent in the water, his body hard with lust and his eyes soft with affection.
"Come." He extended his hand and led her out of the water. Once on the bank, his eyes locked with hers and he unfastened the tiny pearl buttons on the bodice of her chemise. He pushed the wet garment back, exposing her breasts, and then peeled it down her arms and over her hips. Now kneeling before her naked body, he traced the curve of her belly from her waist down to the curls of her sex. "A woman's magic is an awesome thing," he whispered against her skin. "While men fight amongst themselves to dominate the world, you nurture the future deep within. Remarkable." Drawing her down to him, he lay with her in the soft grass, cradling her body against his own and murmuring words of love in her ear as he patiently and skillfully attended to her pleasure.
For her part, there were no words. Pansy responded to him in a language of touch and throaty sighs and moans. Then, there was one word. She cried out his name when her release took her, and he answered her, following her into bliss. His seed planted, Lucius held her in his arms and soon fell into a peaceful slumber.
Unlike Lucius, their lovemaking energized Pansy. Trapped, she explored her world from the confines of his protective embrace. In the distance, on the other side of the brook and beyond a stand of trees, she noticed a high, stone wall. Puzzled, she craned her head for a better look. Was it new, or had it always been there and she never noticed it before? She shook Lucius. His chest rumbled and his eyes opened lazily. Showing no sign of irritation when he was roused from his slumber, he replied thickly, "Yes, love?"
She traced her finger along his lips and asked, "Over there, beyond the brook and the aspen grove, do you see the wall?"
He looked at her for a long moment; his eyes filled with sadness and he pressed a soft kiss to her lips. "Yes, I know of the wall."
"I never noticed it before. Has it always been there? Why is it there? What's on –"
Lucius quieted her with a kiss and sat up. "The cottage was here first. The wall was built centuries later, but still, very long ago," he explained in a reluctant, rehearsed manner, leading her to believe that he'd been dreading her questions for some time. "Once, this place was part of a larger world where magical folk and Mud- Muggles lived side by side. It worked, for a time, but then a group of Muggles came to power who were jealous of our abilities. Since they had no magic of their own, they proclaimed that magic was a tool of demons and sentenced all magical people to death."
"Is that why there are so few of us?" asked Pansy, morbidly fascinated with his tale.
"No, love," he reassured her. "The Muggles weren't strong enough to enforce their will on witches and wizards. They foolishly executed their own people – mostly midwives and scholars. Still, they outnumbered us, and peaceful coexistence was out of the question. A great magical council gathered, and they wisely decided that we would seclude ourselves from the Muggles. The Ministry of Magic was established and not long after, Hogwarts."
"And they built the wall?" asked Pansy. Lucius nodded solemnly. Fairly crackling with curiosity, she urged him to continue. "What's on the other side?"
"Terrible things." His lips pursed in disgust. "Over the centuries the Muggles have devoted themselves to building devices that spew filth into the air and rot the mind. They're lewd and uncultured. They dress indecently and rut like animals. Even their music is crude."
"Is that where you go, when you leave me? To the other side of the wall?"
"No, ma petite fleur. My job is to keep the wall that separates our worlds strong. Some ignorant magical folk foolishly embrace the Muggle world. They tear away at the wall that separates us, endangering everything we've built. When I'm away from you, I'm fighting them back and repairing the damage they cause. I come back from the battle filthy, but it's a small price to pay to preserve this place for you, and all that come after you." He rested his hand on her belly and something inside her stirred. She looked up at him in awe.
"You're so brave, Lucius."
"I am, aren't I." Supremely confident, he looked down on her with a cocky half-smile and gently parted her thighs.
Remus carried a lunch tray up to Pansy's room. Four days down, two to go. It wasn't that she was disagreeable or demanding; on the contrary, aside from the initial unpleasantness on the first night, she'd been absurdly eager to please him. She kept her room immaculate, she washed all her dishes when she finished eating, and she always addressed him as 'professor' or 'sir'. Frankly, he found her behavior a bit unnerving.
She was sleeping fitfully when he opened her door, and the breakfast tray he'd left earlier was untouched. She'd been sleeping entirely too much, in his opinion, but Albus seemed to think it was a normal reaction for a person in isolation and suggested that Remus spend more time with her. Marvelous, just bloody marvelous. While the other members of the Order were out risking their necks doing daring deeds, he was deemed uniquely qualified to baby-sit. Always loyal, he respected Albus too much to protest, but reserved the right to be unhappy about his current assignment. His hands full, Remus kicked the bedroom door shut behind him a bit more loudly than he intended, and Pansy stirred in her sleep.
"Lucius…"
Remus froze as she moaned the Death Eater's name. He knew that sound, having heard his own name uttered in a similar fashion on occasion. Blushing furiously, he snatched the cold breakfast tray and made for the door.
"Professor?" came a sleepy voice behind him.
Damn. Almost got away clean. He turned and smiled, albeit uncomfortably. "Good afternoon, Pansy. I trust you slept well?"
"Yes, sir." She glanced at the two trays and trembled. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sleep through breakfast. It won't happen again, sir."
"Pansy, it's all right. I'm not angry with you," Remus quickly reassured her. People who knew of his condition were often frightened in his presence, but this was different somehow. She wasn't afraid of the werewolf, she was afraid of him. He turned away, feeling oddly ashamed. I'm not a monster, child.
"Sir?" Her large dark eyes now conveyed confusion as well as fear. He wasn't sure if he'd expressed his thoughts aloud or if he'd been standing like a statue long enough to look like a fool. Spend more time with the girl. Albus's words nagged at him. He looked down at the tray of cold bangers and soggy toast in his hands and arrived at a decision.
"Pansy, get dressed," he said quietly, placing the breakfast tray back on the table. "There are some things I'd like to discuss with you over lunch."
"Yes, sir." Obediently, she scrambled off the bed and quickly collected clothing from the heavy armoire. Several minutes later, she emerged from the loo groomed and dressed. She carefully folded her nightclothes, and then set about making her bed. Having little experience with domestic chores, she struggled with the simple task. He didn't rush her or offer advice. He waited patiently as she reasoned it out for herself, and when she'd finished, he invited her to sit down. Once again, she obeyed and sat with her eyes lowered and her hands in her lap, waiting for him to begin eating first. He set down his knife and fork.
"Pansy, stop this."
"Yes, sir." She bit her lip, clearly frightened because she had no idea what he wanted her to stop doing. He groaned inwardly and attempted to reassure her.
"I told you that I would do everything in my power to make your stay pleasant and comfortable. I must not be doing a very good job, because you're obviously frightened and unhappy. Pansy, I promise you again, I'm not going to hurt you."
"I know, sir. I'm sorry, sir. I'll do better." Her lips curled in a pathetic imitation of a smile and he wondered if she had any idea why she was apologizing. Obviously, a more direct approach was required. She was eager to obey, so be it.
"Alright, new house rule," he stated kindly. "From now on you are forbidden to call me 'professor' or 'sir'. My name is Remus and I'll thank you to start using it." She agreed with a nod and pushed her food around her plate – not exactly, the breakthrough he was hoping for. "Pansy, I want to talk to you about how much you're sleeping."
"I won't sleep in anymore, sir – Remus, I promise."
"That's not what I meant. Pansy, you've been sleeping almost round the clock. It's not healthy. How would it look if I returned you to your life permanently scarred from boredom?" Gesturing toward a small bookcase he added, "Were the books I provided not to your liking?"
"Oh, I…I can't read them."
"Don't be ridiculous. Of course, you can. They're not scholarly journals, after all, or political propaganda. I know how much you want a view so I left you travel guides. It's not the same as a window, but trust me; the photographs in those books are far more attractive than the view from your window."
"Sir, I can't, " she pleaded. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "They're Muggle books."
"I see," said Remus, with a hard edge in his voice. "And why can't you read Muggle books?" Pansy shrank back in her seat and averted her eyes.
"I don't know, sir – Remus." She quickly corrected herself. "I mean I know there's a reason, but I don't remember it. I can't remember so many things. I think…" Her face screwed with concentration as she grasped at an elusive thread of a thought. "Lucius has seen the other side and he said that it's ugly and obscene. He doesn't want me to see it."
"Lucius Malfoy told you that?" Remus scoffed. "He's a fine one to be talking about obscenity."
Pansy's eyes narrowed and she cautiously asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"
Remus blew a long breath out through his lips. He didn't want to antagonize her. He methodically chewed on a cold banger, stalling as he constructed a suitable reply. "Only that Lucius, as a seclusionist, has had limited experience with Muggle culture. My mother was Muggle-born, so I've seen both sides. Muggle culture isn't very different from the magical world. By that, I mean that there are some horrible things, but there are beautiful things as well. The music," he said with a sparkle in his eye, "is spectacular."
"Lucius says it's crude."
"I doubt Lucius has listened to a Muggle song in his entire life," said Remus. "How would you like to form your own opinion?"
"Oh, I don't know!" Pansy sat up straight in her chair, in a bit of a panic. "I really don't think I –" She stopped short. Lupin was already up and out of the door. Her pulse raced; she was nervous and intrigued all at the same time, much like when Millicent Bulstrode brought pictures of naked wizards into their dormitory. This was worse, of course. It was one thing to look at blue pictures with your girlfriends; it was quite another to listen to crude Muggle music with a former professor – a man – a werewolf. A moment later, he was bursting through the door, his arms full of Muggle technology.
"These were my mother's," he said proudly, as he placed a stack of small black disks on an upright column. "They're probably out of date, but I enjoy them." He stood ready, smiling with anticipation as one of the disks dropped onto a spinning platform and a mechanical arm moved and dropped onto its edge. There was a hissing and a popping noise for a few moments and then the room filled with music.
Now you're looking good
I'm gonna sing my song and you won't take long
We gotta do the twist and it goes like this
Come on let's twist again like we did last summer
Yea, let's twist again like we did last year
Do you remember when things were really hummin'
Yea, let's twist again, twistin' time is here
"There's a dance that goes with this song," Lupin said loudly, over the music. He began to move and Pansy's jaw dropped. She covered her mouth to stifle a laugh that was more hysterical than amused, and blushed crimson, deeply embarrassed on her former professor's behalf. "Come on, dear," he said, taking her by the hand. "If I'm going to look like a fool, so are you."
"I – I – I can't," she sputtered, pulling back from him. Her escalating panic kept pace with the fast, heavy beat of the music.
"Of course you can," Remus replied, smiling encouragingly and taking both of her hands in his own again. He moved her arms in time with the music, prompting her to mimic his movements. His brow furrowed at her lack of enthusiasm.
"Come on, Pansy, just try it."
The tone of command in his voice was not lost on Pansy. Fearful of disappointing him and losing the light he provided, she swallowed her pride and imitated his actions. Completely out of her element, she felt awkward and stupid. She looked to him helplessly for some indication that she was pleasing him. When he laughed, it was more than she could take. "Stop it!" She spun away from him, in tears. "I'm trying! The music -- it's too loud and fast and awful. I can't do this!" She stood against the wall trembling. Sitting in the dark was preferable to being humiliated and ridiculed. The music stopped abruptly and a moment later, he was standing in front of her, lifting her chin and wiping away her tears with his handkerchief.
"I wasn't laughing at you, Pansy," he explained. "The look on your face – well, it brought back a very pleasant memory." He guided her to a chair and gave her a cup of water. "You see, when I was a student I had a very dear friend who was Muggle-born. She and I would dance to these songs in the Gryffindor common room and have a grand time. I had three other close friends, two of whom were wealthy Pure-bloods, like yourself. The first time Lily and I danced to this song, they sat there and gaped at us, absolutely horrified. So Lily – she was brazen – she pulled James out of his seat and made him dance The Twist. The look on his face was exactly the same as yours." Remus couldn't help but laugh again at the memory.
"Why didn't he just tell her to bugger off?" Pansy sniffed, beginning to calm with his explanation.
"Ah, well you see, James was quite smitten with Lily. Men, as I'm sure you've noticed, are quite willing to look foolish for a lady's affections." He gave Pansy's hand a friendly squeeze. "Perhaps The Twist was a bit much for your first exposure to Muggle music. I think I can find something a bit more to your liking." He fingered through the stack of forty-fives and found what he believed to be the most benign song in the bunch.
Girls as sharp as her are somethin' rare
But it's sad, she doesn't love me now
She's made it clear enough it ain't no good to pine
"Miss Parkinson, may I?" He held out his hand, as an invitation. It wasn't a good dancing song, but the gentler beat and the lead singer's familiar British accent seemed to put Pansy at ease. With his hand on her back, and keeping a respectable distance between them, he led her through the song. "Better?" he asked.
Pansy nodded. It was better, actually. The song didn't thunder in her ears and she could understand the words. The lyrics were somewhat sad, but the melody was spirited and pleasant. As the song went on, she discovered, much to her amazement, that she did like it, very much. "That was nice," she admitted, as the song ended. "Do you have any more like that?"
"Plenty," Remus answered happily. He stacked the record player with about a dozen songs with easy, upbeat rhythms. As time went by, he noticed that her smile changed from the tense, mask-like one that he'd been treated to from the first day of her captivity, to a genuine smile that extended all the way to her eyes. The song they were dancing to ended, and they both stood still and alert, waiting for the next song to start. The record dropped and Remus winced when he heard the opening bars. It was a great song, but a bit more up-tempo than she was used to.
If it makes you feel alright
I’ll get you anything my friend
If it makes you feel alright
’cause I don’t care too much for money
For money can’t buy me love
"Ah, The Beatles – best rock and roll band ever."
"Rock and roll?"
"Hard to explain. Just listen, you'll see." Much to his surprise, she didn’t seem to mind the music; she was just at a loss to know what to do with her feet. "Don't look down, just follow my lead," he said, pulling her a bit closer and moving in time with the music. She mastered the simple steps quickly and they were both reduced to tears of laughter as they stumbled through some more complicated moves. He nearly lost his grip on her when he spun her, and when he pulled her back, her momentum sent her crashing into his chest.
"Ow!" Pansy laughed and rubbed her nose. Caught up in the music in spite of herself, she playfully warned Remus, "If you tell anyone about this, I'll swear you cast an Imperius on me."
"I would expect nothing less from a Malfoy," Remus answered. In any other context, it would be an insult, but they'd formed a tentative bond in their mutual foolishness and he knew she took it as the friendly jibe he intended when she answered by sticking her tongue out at him impertinently. "So what do you think?" he asked. "Is Rock and Roll going to bring the wizarding world crashing down around us?"
"The Louie, Louie song and the song about the Yellow Submarine were bizarre, but I liked the songs you could dance to, and the Turn, Turn song. That was pretty."
"It is a nice song," he agreed as he carefully placed the records back in their paper sleeves and selected a new set. There weren't many left that they hadn't heard yet. It had long since grown dark outside and a rumble in his belly reminded Remus that they'd danced their way through dinner. "I don't know about you, but I'm starved. Why don't you pick out some dinner music, and I'll throw together a meal."
Pansy nodded her agreement, and by the time he returned with a tray of sandwiches and a bottle of wine, she'd selected a fair sized collection of her favorites. As they ate, he appalled her with tales of Gryffindor mischief, and after two bottles of wine, she enlightened him on the finer workings of the female mind. Spontaneous conversation and laughter gave way to comfortable silence as the wine and exhaustion took their toll. Remus slumped in one of the squashy armchairs, his eyes closed, listening to Paul McCartney sing 'Hey Jude', while Pansy lay across the bed, flipping through one of the large travel books he'd left earlier.
"I guess it's not true, what they say about men with big hands," Pansy remarked, offhandedly.
"Huh?" Remus opened one eye and peered at her. "What are you reading?"
"The Italy book."
He looked at her skeptically and lay across the bed next to her, tilting the book to see what she was looking at. A little gagging noise escaped his throat and he turned to her, astonished. "You are scandalous, Miss Parkinson."
Pansy adopted a well-rehearsed look of innocence. "His hands are disproportionately huge, and…well…other parts aren't. "
Adopting his very finest 'disappointed professor lecturing wayward student' look, and doing his level best not to laugh, he stated, "That is one of the most revered pieces of sculpture in the entire history of human artistic expression and all you got out of it is that he's got a small todger?"
"Well he does!" Pansy struggled mightily to contain a laugh. "And big hands. I noticed that too."
Remus cocked his head and evaluated the picture. "I suppose I can't deduct house points if you're right."
"You can't deduct house points anyway." She smirked and turned her attention back to the photograph, growing quiet as she studied it. "He looks determined, and a bit afraid."
"Very good, Pansy. That's a sculpture of a young man named David. In Muggle Christian lore, he entered into battle against a giant named Goliath, armed only with a stone and a slingshot. Their God favored him and he prevailed. This sculpture portrays the moment before the battle."
"Look at the stone in his hand, and the way all the muscles in his body are poised," Pansy remarked, amazed. "It looks like he could move at any moment. This was created without magic?"
"Indeed. A Muggle named Michelangelo carved this from a single piece of marble about five hundred years ago, using only a chisel and a hammer. The photograph doesn't do it justice. You should see it in person; it's breathtaking."
"You've seen it?"
"I have, and many other things as well."
"I wish I could see it," said Pansy, wistfully.
"What's stopping you? You're young, you're wealthy, and you're not encumbered by lycanthropy. You can do anything you want."
"No, I can't. You don't understand."
"I understand society's limitations more than you'll ever know," said Remus, gently. "You have choices, Pansy. You don't have to be Lucius's prisoner. You can walk away from your limitations. I can't."
"Lucius isn't the one holding me hostage." Pansy looked away when she saw that her words hurt him. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize."
The simple truth of her statement hit him like a fist to the gut. Somewhere in the back of his mind, his practical nature reasoned that he was only holding her for six days, and that it was for the greater good.
The greater good. Is that how Lucius Malfoy justifies his actions, I wonder? But I'm not like Lucius, am I? I don't try to kill children to achieve my ends, and I don't fuck women half my age who are engaged to my son.
To his shame, Remus recalled, word for word, threatening to kill Pansy if she didn't cooperate when he asked her to place her memories in the pensieve. Being brutally honest with himself, he thought about how good it felt to hold her when they danced. She was so obedient and eager to please him; when his arms were wrapped around her, he'd thought about how easy it would be to lay her across the bed and have his way with her.
But you only thought about it; you didn't do it, did you, Moony old boy? That's the difference between you and Malfoy; he'll use any means to achieve his ends. You have principles.
He damned the wine for making him introspective, and he damned himself for becoming attached to his prisoner. At some point in the afternoon, she had ceased to be his captive and become a real person. He liked her.
"You're right. I'm no better than Lucius, in this situation. I'm so sorry," he said to Pansy, not meeting her eyes. Did the ends justify the means? Was the Order becoming that which they sacrificed so much to defeat? He debated with himself, and decided to follow his conscience. "Gather your things. I'm taking you home tonight."
"But…won't that get you in trouble?" Pansy sputtered, stunned by his offer.
"That's not your concern." He stood up and ran his fingers through his hair. "I need about an hour to get my people out. You can get ready while I'm gone."
Pansy looked from Remus to the picture of David in the book, and made the first important, independent decision of her entire life. "If it's all the same to you, I'd prefer to stay." She pushed the book into his hands. "Please, professor, tell me more about Italy."
He nodded, silently expressing his gratitude. Before sitting next to her, he drew his wand and dropped the wards on the door. "Most people like Rome, but my favorite city is Florence…"