Animo crept down the corridor, her bare feet thankful for the cover of the thick rug beneath her toes. She shivered as she passed what looked to be a collection of medieval torture devices, recognizing the chilling rack to her right from the books she had read as a child. It was strange because she had thought the Malfoys hated anything muggle, but she supposed if there was enough pain involved, they would overlook the devices' origins.
She sighed as she hit another dead end, nothing but another layer of stone and marble to greet her at the end of the walkway. Over the last few days, Animo had passed the time attempting to map out Malfoy Manor, but there were so many hidden rooms and crevices that the task seemed impossible. Adjusting the golden plate in her hand, Animo lowered her voice to a whisper.
"Hello?"
Finally, a sharp crack distorted the heavy silence that smothered the corridor. An old house-elf stood hunched in front of her, his dark blue eyes somber.
"You should not be in this wing, miss," for his old age, the elf's voice was rather high-pitched and he cast a wary look at the dirtied plate in her hand. "Toddy can take that."
Animo retracted immediately, making sure the plate was just out of reach, "No!" Toddy looked startled and she felt a flash of guilt. "Sorry, it's just—" she chewed on the edge of her lip, hoping that she would be able to word her request strongly enough, "I'm dreadfully bored and I wondered if I could perhaps help you in the kitchens?"
To say that Toddy was mortified was an understatement. Stuttering, the house elf shook his head furiously, making it seem as though his eyes were about to pop from their sockets. "Miss should never do the work for elves! Master Malfoy would not be pleased."
"I would never tell him!" Animo insisted, leaning closer towards Toddy. "Please, I only want for something to do."
"There has been vile business in this house," Toddy insisted, eyeing her suspiciously, "Toddy's duty is to oversee his elves and he don't want any evils being stirred up for his family."
Slowly, Animo handed over the plate and the elf took it immediately, making it disappear the moment the golden surface made contact with his fingertips. "I mean no harm. It's just this place is terribly lonely," Animo shivered, casting a furtive glance in the shadows beyond the curtain beside them. "I've not been allowed from my room in days."
Toddy peered up at her, his ears folded back in caution. They were rather large for a house-elf, reminding Animo strongly of some sort of overgrown bat. "Well, Toddy trusts missus' word." The creature gave a great sigh, his chest trembling with the effort. "If you too are held captive in this place, then you are welcome among my family."
Then, Toddy reached over and pinched himself harshly, causing his pale skin to blossom a brilliant purple. "Toddy should not speak ill of his master!"
Animo winced, accepting the house-elf's hand as she tried to avert her eyes from the painful looking bruise. How wizards ever permitted something as barbaric as self-punishment, she would never know.
There was a sharp tugging sensation in her stomach as Toddy apparated, pulling them away from the ominous corridor and into a bright kitchen. Animo blinked her eyes, trying to adjust to the light.
The kitchen looked to be out of a fairytale storybook, with pots and pans hanging of their own accord in the air above her head. Two large islands were set on either side of the room, bearing several sinks filled with soapy water that sent spirals of steam into the air. A few house-elves were hard at work, bent over the bubbles as they scrubbed at a wide array of silver platters, their hands covered in yellow rubber gloves. Towards the back of the kitchen sat a line of stoves, from which each billowed their own aroma, which ranged from garlic to apple pie. The inside of the ovens glowed with an orange hue that lit the room.
"Wow," Animo sniffed deeply, allowing the smells of butter and melted sugar to soothe the empty ache she had felt since her argument with Tom. It seemed that they fought more than they spoke these days.
"Poppy!" Toddy scolded a rather adorable elf who was currently cutting up a carrot, moving her hand in the air. The motion was in tandem with the knife so that it sliced through the flesh of the vegetables at rapid speed. "Smaller pieces! That one is for the stew."
Animo followed Toddy awkwardly, aware of the curious stares of the house-elves as she passed, although none dared to pause in their work.
"Here," Toddy tapped his foot on the tile in front of the furthest sink, making a footstool appear from the air, "Miss can help my nephew with the utensils." A disgruntled expression furrowed his wide forehead. "Only thing Toddy can trust him with."
Taking position in front of the sink, which was really more of a trough, Animo doused her hands in the warm water before letting out a squeak as her fingers brushed against flesh.
"Sorry!" a round head popped out from the suds, large green eyes blinking in her direction as the elf attempted a clumsy sort of bow. A few dribbles of soap dripped off the elf's ears, "Dobby finds washing dishes in the water much easier! His hands are too small to reach all the way into the sink."
Animo giggled at the tiny elf, who did a sort of backflop back into the sink as he sought to salvage a few more forks from the frothy mess. She accepted them as he handed them to her, polishing them with a thick linen napkin. "You said your name is Dobby?"
"Yes," Dobby squeaked, nearly impaling himself on a butter knife as he scampered over the drying piles and waved his hand, sending some of them flying into a nearby drawer. "This is Dobby's first year of service, miss! He is trying his hardest to please his master." Dobby paused in his sorting, seeming uncertain of whether it was proper for him to continue. "And what is your name, if Dobby is allowed to ask?"
"Ani," Animo responded, holding out a soaked hand before wiping it on her apron. Dobby eyed her extended fingers with a near fearful air, casting a wary look at the other working elves. "You can shake it," Animo nodded towards her hand once more, "you've been making my meals all week! I owe you!"
Dobby appeared rather horrified. "No! Never owe Dobby! Tis Dobby's duty, Miss Ani."
Animo slowly retracted her fingers, realizing that the elf would refuse to accept it. "So, how old are you, Dobby?" She had always wondered about the lifespan of house-elves. Albus had once mentioned that the ones in the Hogwarts kitchens served for decades.
"Dobby just made washer!" Dobby gestured towards his attire, which was a silk pillowcase fastened about his arms. The fabric was rather smooth, although the creature was sure to point out the handful of stains upon his chest. It appeared as though each smudge of grease was an achievement.
"Wait," Animo begin to piece together the information slowly. Her heart sunk. "You measure your age by your pillowcase?"
Dobby pointed over at Toddy, who was currently tasting a massive pot of pea soup. "See, Toddy wears the most noble of clothes! Tartan straight from the master's curtains." The elf leaned closer, though he didn't bother to lower his bright tone. "Dobby thinks they're from Paris, he does!"
Scanning the purple embroidered material, Animo tried to mask her horror that Dobby would be so proud by it. "I see." She nodded towards a pair of house-elves who were currently dressing a ridiculously large turkey. "And all of them are your family?"
"House-elves make family wherever they serve!" Dobby repeated the words as though they had been engrained in his memory, "Toddy is not really Dobby's uncle," the elf fixed her with his green eyes, "but when a master wants more helpers, he buys us and brings us to his home."
"So, you were taken from your family?" Animo dropped her incredulous tone as several of the elves shot them a sharp glance. She took up another round of dirtied silverware, scrubbing at the gravy encrusted on the surface.
Dobby shrugged. "Dobby doesn't remember. But the place before my master's house," the elf shivered, the light in his gaze briefly shuttering, "much more terrible. Dobby is grateful Master Malfoy saved him, even if Toddy thinks he is a nasty man."
The house-elf suddenly froze and contemplated the fork in his hand, as though he were about to stab himself with it. Animo quickly snatched the weapon from his grasp, placing it back into the sink. "Toddy doesn't like Abraxas?" She wasn't surprised, remembering the way the foul boy constantly peered down his nose at her.
"No, not young master!" Dobby straightened defensively, his small chest puffed out, "tis his father who is not so nice," the elf managed to keep his words at a whisper. "Beats us elves for serving him the wrong wine, he does. But he forgets what wine he asked for!" Dobby said this all with an unbothered tone, as if Abraxas's father had made a small error of judgement.
"That's horrible," Animo scrubbed at the fork with a renewed vengeance. "The Malfoys have always been rotten."
Shaking his head furiously, Dobby toppled back into the sink with the effort. "Mistress Malfoy was a good woman!" A glimmer of tears shone in the corners of his eyes and Animo swiftly pulled a few of the dishes out of reach of his running nose. "She died years ago and made master very angry and young Master Abraxas very sad. Mistress took the life of this manor with her, is what Toddy says."
Animo bit the inside of her cheek. So that was why Abraxas was so horrid. His father turned his cruelty upon his son, who was now defenseless. "I see."
Suddenly, the distinct sound of footsteps echoed at the top of the stairs that Animo assumed led into the main corridors of the manor. The white hair of Abraxas emerged into view as the Slytherin ducked under the low ceiling, not yet aware of Animo's presence.
"Thank you for dinner," his tone was as warm as Animo had ever heard it. "I much appreciate your efforts."
"Will Master Abraxas stay for pie?" an elderly house elf donning a cotton bonnet peered at the boy hopefully, gesturing towards a sizzling pastry. "Winnie made his favourite."
Abraxas offered the elf a tight smile, although the gesture looked pained. "I can't stay for long, Winnie. I—" his silver gaze landed on Animo. Instantly, the warmth dissipated in his eyes, replacing by a wrathful fire as his features twisted into a scowl.
"WHAT ARE YOU—"
"I wanted to help," Animo interceded instantly, determined that the house elves would not take the fall for her impulsive decision. She held up her dripping hands, water staining dark splotches on her robes. "I've been bored to tears."
Glaring at Toddy, who bent his head in apology, Abraxas raised a thin eyebrow. "And of all things you decided to slave away in the kitchen?" The iconic Malfoy smirk tilted his lips. "What a woman you are."
Animo scowled, squaring her shoulders as she gestured towards the boy with a butter knife. "I will not—" her words died as she noticed Abraxas's smug air, his posture relaxed as he leaned back against the wall.
"Oh, don't stop on my account," he drawled, his black shirt unbuttoned just enough to expose a silver chain about his throat, "I do enjoy seeing you make a fool of yourself."
Grumbling under her breath, Animo plunged a gravy dish into the water, cleaning it with a wave of her hand. She was afraid that she might scrub the thin porcelain to bits. "Well, are you going to come help me?"
To her surprise, there was a slight pause while Abraxas exchanged a look with Toddy, the house-elf regarding his master with an uncertain expression. Then, Abraxas pushed up his sleeves, exposing the dark mark that blazed down his arm. "As this is my house, I don't think I need an invitation, Wallis." He grabbed a fork from Animo, who simply gaped as he began to rinse it under the steaming faucet. "But breathe a word of this and I'll make sure you never speak again."
Slowly, Animo took a spot beside him, drying whatever dish he handed her. The elves continued their work around them with a renewed fury, seeming to silently compete with each other for most efficient. "What is it with you and Tom and death threats?"
Abraxas flinched at the name before turning to regard her with a furtive brow, his silver eyes sharp as he scanned her face. "You two have some sort of strange connection, don't you?"
Animo gave a light snort, placing her latest pile of knives into the drawer gently. "Connection is a rather strong word."
"If anyone else used his name, they would quite literally be dead." The statement was plain and rang with a sort of ironic truth. Although Abraxas appeared more grim than fearful as he gave a polite nod to Winnie. The house elf was insistent that he use her dish towel.
"I don't understand," Animo contemplated, pursing her lips while she watched Abraxas carefully, "why get involved with him in the first place?" She gestured towards the enormous kitchen, feeling a bead of sweat trail down her forehead. "You certainly aren't wanting for anything."
Abraxas's snide look faltered ever so slightly. "I wouldn't be so sure about that, Wallis."
A few minutes of silence hung between them as Animo continued to scrub, her hands growing rather red and cracked with the effort. Still, she knew better than to press further on what Abraxas meant. Clearly, the subject was painful.
"My mother," Abraxas finally spoke, his voice weary as he paused in his sorting. Beside him, Dobby blew his nose into his pillowcase, "loved house elves. I think they were her only companions growing up. This house was hers first." His eyes darkened, "and then she was forced to marry my father and he became head of the manor. His wish," Abraxas snarled, tossing a few plates in the corner. The sound of their collision made Animo wince, half expecting them to shatter, "was that its occupants never be heard and rarely seen. It didn't matter whether you were an elf," he jerked his head over towards Toddy, "his wife, or his son."
Animo mulled over his response, recalling how his grandson, Draco, seemed so haunted. "And you don't agree with his.." she struggled to find the polite wording, "beliefs?"
"I still think mudbloods should know their place," Abraxas snorted, clearly critical of her tentative response, "but should a father be such a git to his own offspring?" The Malfoy heir shook his head, his gleaming ponytail barely shifting under the light of the lamp above them. "That's why I agreed to follow Voldemort in the first place. I respect the loyalty he demands." A short bark burst from his thin lips, "It's our version of a twisted family."
Disagreeing rather strongly with his opinion, Animo scrambled for how to warn Abraxas of what she had experienced of the Death Eaters. There was certainly no goodwill between them. "Do you truly feel close to your fellow.. Knights?" the name rolled off her tongue painfully.
"I don't need 'close'" Abraxas sarcastically repeated the expression as though she were some sort of small child, "I need survival and a chance to escape this nightmare." His blonde tresses glimmered as he cast a scornful gaze about the room. "Anything's better than this."
Humming quietly to herself, Animo shrugged, swishing the water with a twirl of her finger. "Better than the common room? I hate being in the dungeons."
There was a loud clatter as her companion withdrew from within an enormous liquor cabinet, his hands wrapped around two obscenely large bottles of Firewhiskey. "Don't tell anyone," Abraxas took a generous swig, a drop of the alcohol dribbling down the corner of his mouth, "but I hate the dungeons too. Freeze my arse off all winter."
Animo accepted the bottle he handed her tentatively, not eager to trust the gesture. She could only imagine the array of poisons that the Malfoys were capable of purchasing. Sensing Abraxas's careful eye, she raised the lip of the glass to her mouth and swallowed. A warm burn ate at her stomach as she took another sip for good measure.
Abraxas seemed satisfied with her response and he took another chug of the whiskey, leaning against the marble counter. "Merlin, I hate this place." His lip curled as they watched Toddy polish a jeweled goblet with a fierce hand. "What don't I hate these days?"
"Sounds like you need to get yourself a girl," a slight grin tugged at the inside of Animo's cheek.
"What, are you offering?" Abraxas's look was nothing but snide while he adjusted the chain about his throat. "Sorry, but you're really not my type."
Rolling her eyes, Animo jumped up on the top of the granite, swinging her legs in a random rhythm. "Let me guess: you want a girl who kisses your toes and strokes your hair every night?"
"Of course not," despite Abraxas's affronted expression, there was a slight hesitance to his tone that Animo had no desire to read into. "Although," the Malfoy heir smirked, his silver eyes gleaming, "experience in bed would be no complaint."
A scoopful of water found its way from the sink and onto the front of Abraxas's dress shirt. The Malfoy boy hissed, flinging himself backward as Animo tucked her hand behind her back. Though she was sure her expression gave away her guilt.
"Do you know how expensive this is?" he attempted to blot at the material desperately, using a freshly pressed napkin from the pile beside his elbow. "Worth more than your life!"
"You need a wardrobe update," Animo shrugged, raising the bottle to her lips once more as she watched the boy stumble around, clearly unaware he could use magic to dry the spot. "Gothic vampire went out centuries ago."
Abraxas shook out his sleeves in a disgruntled fashion, undoing the silver cufflinks that gleamed in the shape of the Malfoy crest. "How Tom stands you is completely beyond my understanding."
Animo tried to hide her smile at his mention of Tom's name directly. It seemed that "Voldemort" hadn't quite sunken in yet. "Oh, I don't think he does. I believe his curiosity simply outweighs his hatred."
Shooting her an unreadable glance, Abraxas began to climb up the stairs towards the exit, the front of his shirt plastered to his chest. "Whatever he's after doesn't involve hatred, Wallis." He paused at the top of the banister with his hand on the rail. His muscular form was dappled by shadows. "But be careful where you step. He strikes when you least expect it."