Life before the war had been glamorous. Once every month or two, the Malfoys would hold a party at their house and invite all their closest and highest-earning friends. The ballroom would be filled with two hundred beautiful people dancing, talking, and drinking. Narcissa would buy brand new dress robes for the occasion, shopping in France, Italy, and Asia for the finest she could find. Lucius would have the best alcohol brought in, spending thousands of galleons on Champagne just so he would have the very best. People all over Britain would talk about these parties at Malfoy Manor where the peacocks roamed the grounds and roses blossomed even in winter. It was a big honor to be invited to the festivities and an even bigger social token to be a regular invite. It was an opportunity for the King and Queen to dazzle the socialites they ruled and show just how magnificent they were… and they were magnificent.
Now, the only social gatherings taken place in the most ancient house were those held by the Dark Lord. Rather than being praised and idolized, the Malfoys were a constant source of entertainment and humiliation for the mostly dead dictator. Their beautiful dress robes lay in boxes at the bottom of the closet, as only black was permitted in His presence. Even the food from the house elves had begun to decline in quality. Lucius often drank, but only to curve the incredible anxiety he suffered over these meetings. Because they could no longer leave the house for any sort of supplies, Narcissa had taken to the bottle as well. It was the only way she could fall asleep, as she had been taking a regular sleeping potion before they had run out of the ingredients. They spoke only to each other or when spoken to in meetings. Bellatrix wouldn't dare to hold a conversation with her sister, though Narcissa too had lost the stomach to talk to such a being. Their marble exteriors had crumbled.
The Malfoys used to hold a great deal of authority. Lucius could appear at the Ministry with a sack full of gold and play the Minister like a sacred harp. Narcissa ruled the social networking in all of Britain with her charisma, intellect, and excellent ability to blackmail. They were an intelligent couple and a powerful couple. People craved their wealth and feared their magical ability. With a single written letter they could bring any respectable member of society to their knees.
They were now servants, slaves in their house. No amount of gold could persuade their overlord. There was no discussion and no questions allowed. They were virtually powerless as they were surrounded by highly capable witches and wizards, most of all the Dark Lord. Narcissa still had her wand, but Lucius was completely powerless. He had searched for his grandfather's wand that had been kept in the manor after his death but it was hopelessly lost among a sea of other heirlooms stowed away in the towers of the large house. They were prisoners.
A long time ago, the manor was filled with laughter and joy. In the summer, the windows would be thrown open to bring in the scents of the gardens. Hummingbirds buzzed around freely as the Malfoys sat outside reading in the sunlight. In the winter, a fire burned in every fireplace. They often sat in front of the fire in the drawing room and roasted marshmallows with Draco after he played outside. When Draco was at school, Lucius and Narcissa sometimes chased each other down the long hallways in a game of tag or yelled back and forth across the cavernous spaces. Narcissa played her piano or oboe in the conservatory while Lucius worked in his study. They enjoyed the world they had created in the walls of their home.
Darkness clouded the house now. Lucius remarked to Narcissa that being home felt just like being in Azkaban except that it was cleaner. The portraits had left their frames. The house elves cooked in the kitchen and left the food prepared on the counters. The owls had even permanently retreated to the upmost room in the house. They couldn't laugh, they never smiled, and they were never able to write their son at school. At night, Lucius held Narcissa as she cried and he stared blankly at the ceiling. They felt like Dementors had come and stolen their souls.
Though everything they had was falling apart around them, they clung to each other. They clasped hands beneath the table at meetings, removed the dead bodies from their living space, and did what they could to keep living through the end of their miserable days. The wind had come crashing through their painted windows and they were the only ones capable of picking up the pieces again. Narcissa kept telling herself it would get better, all the nights she refused sleep for fear of never waking would come back to her in the end. There would be life after this nightmare whether the Dark Lord triumphed or the other side won. She only prayed she would have her husband and son after the whole ordeal. Lucius listened in the quiet of midnight, pretending he could still hear the sounds of Draco or Narcissa laughing to remember what he was fighting for. It had become a battle to keep from drowning in all the death and misery that surrounded them. It was unexplainable, but they knew that they would make it through and it was no doubt that the world would be very different once they emerged on the other side.
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