Chapter Text
Artemisia shivered as she approached the large doors of the Malfoy Manor. It was the middle of a harsh winter. She expected chill, but not this kind of chill. Her boots were old, her socks too thin, and her robes more suited to an unusually cold Autumn instead of a blizzard… which is what this had turned out to be.
“Fuck it, it’s not like I can turn back at this point anyway,” Artemisia muttered to herself, forcing her frozen tendons to move her forward.
It had been a while since she had graduated from Hogwarts, so she could not easily access the library with its wealth of information on her possible family’s history. The Malfoy library was the next best thing - and truthfully, could hold its own against the old castle’s sprawling, unusual books. She missed Hogwarts. She missed the library. That’s probably why she spent so much time traveling to *other* libraries, like an addict chasing that initial high they won’t ever reach again.
“Focillo…” she cast her warming spell once more, but it didn’t cover much more of her hands, and didn’t last very long. She was never very good at spells directed at her own comfort.
She stood before the doors, and sarcastically muttered “wouldn’t it be funny if they were just… unlocked?”
She pushed on the doors, and to her amusement, they opened with ease. She stepped through them and was instantly met with an all-encompassing warmth that seemed to radiate from within her, as well as around her.
“Interesting, this must be a version of Focillo that can be automatically applied to people who cross a specific threshold. Simple but quite nice…”
Artemisia continued through the hall, taking off one piece of outerwear at a time. Her hat, her scarf, her dark outer robe that didn’t even provide much warmth in the first place, until she was left with her traveling outfit. A unique combination of dense, flowing robes, with accents of Griffindor crimson of course, over a heavy canvas dress that stopped just above her knees. Her legs were covered by lined stockings, for some insulation against the weather, the too-thin socks, and the boots… Those old, trusty boots that she really should've away at this point.
Every step she took echoed off the walls. The ceiling was impossibly high, and possibly charmed to appear even higher. She could see the balcony that wrapped around the second floor, the rooms that lined the upper wall, and two grand staircases that rested at the end of the hall. There was also a fireplace, and a blazing fire within it.
“Well, I’m in. I may as well sit down.” Artemisia quickened her pace, observing the decor and portraits around her, who undoubtedly ran to tell their Lord of the intruder.
She plopped herself down on the large couch by the fire. It was incredibly comfortable, and seemed to almost swallow her whole. She found it adjusting to her personal comfort preferences, and gradually firmed up a bit so she could sit without struggling between all the cushions.
“‘Within your Grasp: Hexes, Potions, and Charms to Influence Others’ - huh, intense.” Artemisia picked up the book and began to flip through it. Some of the pages were marked with purple ink, but she didn’t have much time to read what was written in the margins before she heard cool, calm footsteps descending the left staircase.
***
”Well my dear, I rarely get visitors as is, and here you are waltzing in my home in the middle of the worst winter we’ve seen in a century. The portraits tell me you simply… walked in through the front door. I’ll admit that no sneak has tried that one before, they usually attempt floo powder or an invisibility charm, something stupid simple that always ends up with a maiming of some sort.”
Lucius Malfoy stood before her, in black robes, perfectly tailored black suit, black shoes, black cane, in contrast with his flowing white hair and intimidatingly blue eyes. He made for an incredibly handsome, yet unnerving wizard.
*And like all men, he seems to love the sound of his own voice, but I can work with that…* Artemisia thought to herself.
“You’ll have to pardon my intrusion sir, I-“ Lucius cut her off.
“You, my dear, must address me as Lord Malfoy. It’s only proper and I must insist. But please continue, I’m looking forward to hearing your exceedingly dull explanation before I set a half-mad house elf on you,” he said, unamused. He wasn’t even looking at her.
“Pardon me Lord Malfoy.” Her tone dripped with the kind of obvious sarcasm that caused Lucius to snap his eyes in her direction. “But I came here for a reason and I’m not leaving until you assist me, willingly or unwillingly.”
Artemisia honestly didn’t know where this bravado came from, maybe it was the warmth after being so cold for so long, but she continued to hold her ground. His eyes were fully on hers, neither flickering nor straying.
“I’m in search of a book that pertains to families with Ancient Greek lineage here in Britain, which I know you have, considering it heavily applies to you. All I ask is that I be able to read it, and any other interesting tidbits I may come across… I brought money.” She dropped a sack of heavy Galleons onto the table with a metallic thud.
“You’re speaking quite directly and pointedly at me for someone so at my mercy,” Lucius replied.
“At this point, I don’t have much of a choice. I’ve been searching for this book since I was 16 and still at Hogwarts. I need it to trace the roots of my family, I… need to know what happened to them. Why they’re all gone. Why I can’t find them…” She trailed off and briefly looked away, the first to break eye contact.
Lucius stepped forward, slightly too close to her sitting form, towering over her. She looked up at him after attempting to blink away a few glassy tears.
“Please, Lord Malfoy. I can pay, I can do anything you want me to do, but I need this book. I’m not even sure what the title is, I just- I just KNOW it’s here. I know it. Please.” She wasn’t above begging if it meant bringing the end of a heartbreaking journey closer to her grasp.
Lucius chuckled, and a flit of some foreign emotion Artemisia didn’t recognize jumped across his face. It made her uncomfortable, but she wasn’t sure why.
“My dear, your begging is almost music to my ears,” he stated with cold amusement, and another hint of that emotion, that feeling, that Artemisia couldn’t place and wasn’t sure she liked. “I know exactly what book you’re referring to. Keep your galleons, and follow me.” He saw a look of intense relief wash across her face as she stood up and trailed behind him.
“A new distraction, my Lord?” a portrait asked in a hush whisper, eyes watching them as they walked towards the library.
“Yes, but we have yet to see if this is a welcome one,” Lucius replied.