Altered for the Altar

On the morning that I wake, it’s raining again, the drops pelting onto the roof of the manor and streaking down the panes of one of the large windows implanted in my room. A crack of thunder rumbles numbly in the distance and it’s faint to my ears, but I see the bolts of lightning that light up the rather dark sky. I’m unaware of the time, as no electronics properly function is this magically mystified manor, and so am left to blindly speculate with the only clues being the sky, which was so dark that I honestly couldn’t accurately tell.

I drag myself up in to a sitting position, cringing as I feel my joints pop. There’s a foul taste in my mouth that makes me wish for a glass of water and my entire body feels dirty, a result from the fact that I’d, more than likely, been asleep for days. But the rest has done me good, which is obvious as I start to comb out my greasy hair with slightly sore and numb fingers.

My eyes don’t feel heavy anymore and the sickness is gone, replaced now by breaths that come easy and without an ounce of bile. I feel stronger, too, like I’m prepared both physically and mentally for the days and weeks and maybe even months that lay ahead. I’m still frightened to death, but more sure because of my, now, clear mind and slight confidence.

A soft sight slips out of my lips just as I hear the creaking of the bedroom door. When my head lolls over, I see Leal teetering in. He’s weighed down with what appears to be laundry, a large wicker basket that is three times his size and definitely outweighs him. Another sound, this one a mix of a squeak and grunt slip out, and I repress a chuckle while trying to stand.

But when I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, I wobble and tip back over on top of the mattress. This startles Leal and he swings back in such a quick motion that the basket falls and the towels and wash cloths and my spare clothing is strewn all over the floors. He stares at me then, with wide, jewel-like eyes that are so familiar, and two hands that only shake a little bit.

I smile a little, chuckling as I push pieces of my dirty hair out of my face. “I’ve slept too much.”

He swallows, but says nothing while he scurries about trying to pick up the freshly washed things. I frown at this and try to steady myself.

“Mistress Elizabeth was asleep for four days,” he murmurs quietly, his voice high and sounding as if it wasn’t used much. “Leal tended to Mistress Elizabeth, helped her get better.”

Grinning now, I refrain from clapping my hands together, and just tangle them together in my lap while I glow over at the little creature.

“Thank you so much, Leal.” Nodding, I see the corners of his mouth twitch while he directs his orbs down to the floor. “And you sang to me, too, didn’t you?”

Again, he swallows, and freezes a little with a small dark blue cloth in his hands. But then he nods a few times, keeping his back to me. I smile once more and try not to crawl over and hug Leal.

There are a few minutes in which I just watch him put everything back in the basket and massage my legs gently. But then the creature speaks up again. “Master Draco will want to see Mistress Elizabeth.”

“Oh, right,” I hum. “I’ll need to get ready first.”

“Leal understands, Mistress Elizabeth. Leal will tell Master Draco that Mistress Elizabeth is awake and that she will see Master Draco shortly.”

I smile. “Thank you, Leal, for everything. You’re too kind to me.”

For a few seconds I think that the little creature blushes, that I see a hint of color rise up on his bony cheeks, but then he’s scurrying into my bathroom and I’ve lost my chance to look any further.

While Leal’s in the washroom, I manage to get myself to my feet and, a little shakily, walk over to my suitcases. My things are still unpacked, even a week or two after I’d been here, and I know that I should unpack sometime soon, but can’t be bothered now.

I look for something loose to wear because my body still aches a little from lying too long in that bed, and then mull over wearing heels or shoes that would better suit my condition. I decide to go with pair that aren’t too high, but give me enough lift that I know will make me feel feminine. Then I check to see if Leal has left, smiling when I notice that the little thing has started the shower for me and laid out a towel and wash cloth for me to bathe with.

The shower process is long. I spend most of my time leaning against one of the walls, letting the hot water cascade down my entire body and loosen up those muscles that had seized up while I’d been asleep. It’s only when I remember that I still have to see Draco that I begin to wash my hair and tend to my body. But that’s something I do at an easy pace too, so by the time I’m shutting off the water and toweling myself off, I know that I’ve spent at least an hour in the steam and relaxing water.

So I dress and finish readying myself quickly because I know how impatient the Malfoy’s must already be with me. My father’s warning pecks at the front of my brain and as I hop around my room, trying to get one of my shoes off and not to topple in to my suitcases, I hope I hadn’t destroyed this all yet.

When I whip my door open, I nearly run over Leal, who, with wide emerald eyes, staggers back and begins to breathe heavy. I smile gently, apologetically.

“Sorry, Leal,” I coo softly.

He only gulps and slinks nearly completely to the ground. “Master Draco would like to see Mistress Elizabeth in the library.”

I nod and, after another smile, begin to walk towards the stairway. But then I remember that I have no idea where the library is and turn in order to head back to ask Leal to help me, only to find that the little creature is standing at the top of the stairs, hiding behind a pillar.

“Would you show me the way, please, Leal?”

A curt nod is given, then he is taking the marble stairs two at a time, bounding down quickly and skirting by me. I have to spring in order to catch up to him.

I’m lead down a few hallways, past the front room I remember first being received in, and what smells like the kitchen before Leal stops at a slick, black door. For a few seconds I just stare at it, wondering if I should knock or wait for Leal to knock or just go on in. But then the green eyed little Leal takes on an expression that I think is joyful amusement, but it’s not cruel, the glint in his orbs isn’t; it’s more pity-like and rather happy as he takes a few daring steps forward and raps his little knuckles against the shiny base.

On instinct, as it’s swept open, we both take a few steps back. Draco stands, wearing some dark green dress pants and loose, untucked and unbuttoned light grey shirt that contrasts magnificently. He glances between the two of us before jerking his head towards Leal, which sends the creature scurrying off down a hallway he’d not lead me down here through. Then his gaze turns back to me.

“Elizabeth,” he sighs, standing straighter and shoving a hand into his pocket. “You’re awake.”

I blush because I’m embarrassed that I slept so long. “Yes, but you should’ve woken me days earlier.”

Shaking his head, he motions for me to come in and then clicks the door shut behind me. “Nonsense,” he says as I walk in and gape at how large and beautiful this room is. “Rest is good for a person.”

I want to reply to his comment, I want to be courteous, but I can’t because I’m sucked into the white, green, and black marble that fill the entire large span of the room. It’s lined in a fierce silver that glints under the candle chandelier that hangs gloriously above us, warmed by an ornate fireplace so large that I know it could fit both Draco and I in it with room to spare, and neatly cluttered shelves and shelves of perfectly tucked away books. A globe is placed in a corner, along with a few leather chairs, some end tables, and an impeccable crystal set that I know holds a variety of liquors.

It’s amazing, this room is, though I don’t know why I’m so surprised; this house was something of a master piece, even though it was remotely cold.

Draco clears his throat behind me, and when he speaks, his tone is light and slightly happy. “It’s my favorite room in the whole house.”

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, walking over to the fireplace and running a finger over the silver trim.

“My mother’s work, that is. She has a knack for those kind of small details.”

I turn and smile over my shoulder, noticing that he was watching as I admired the design. I withdraw my hand and clasp both of them in front of me.

For a few moments it’s just quiet. He stares at me, obviously checking to see if I’m going to vomit or feint or cry, and I stand tall, with my shoulders back and my hands still fumbling together because his gaze makes me slightly nervous.

“I’m fine,” I eventually say.

He lets out a deep breath through his nose. “Good,” he murmurs. “Good. I was worried.”

I try not to arch an eyebrow and take the seat he motions to. He drops down in to one next me, then pours himself a glass of some amber colored liquid.

“How are things?” I ask, curiosity biting at me.

“Slow,” he says after swallowing a gulp. “Father’s impatient, as is yours, and the Dark Lord is getting more frantic. Things will be over sooner than we expected.”

My eyes widen at this and I sit on the edge of my seat. “I told you that you should’ve waken me! We can fix-“

“-no, Elizabeth, it’s not your fault. It’s Potters.” When I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, he goes on, explaining. “Potter is the only person that serves as a real threat to the Dark Lord. If he kills Potter, then it’s over, he’s won and will assume rule, as he tried to do many years ago. But Potters smart, and he’s figured out how to weaken the Dark Lord. That wasn’t counted on.”

“So what does this mean, for us?”

He takes another gulp from his glass, nearly finishing it off before he swivels the pretty thing as the light hits it.

“We’re meant to distract people now, divert their attention while the Dark Lord does what is needed to be done. Then we’ll be given another task.”

“What do you mean, ‘divert their attention’?” I frown, confused once more.

But he’s patient with me, showing no signs of anger or annoyance. In fact, as he angles his body towards me in his leather chair, he looks sad and little relieved.

“We’re to be married sooner than originally planned.”

And, suddenly, I feel sick again.