A/N: This is basically a crack fic. Based on a Tumblr Prompt that said Narcissa gets drunk and rants to Dobby. That's it.
Happy belated New Year, everyone!
Narcissa stared into the depths of the dark liquid as she swirled it around the glass.
"He's just so stupid," she rolled her eyes, sipping her wine before she shook her head. "I don't understand his need to be constantly patted on the head by that retched creature."
Dobby just stood there, holding the halfway-empty bottle while nodding at his mistress.
"He's not even a pure blood! Who tries to swipe off the muggle-borns from our world with muggle blood in their veins! A damn liar, I'll tell you that. Oh, if his mother could see him now," Narcissa muttered around a mouthful of wine, nearly chipping the glass between her clenched teeth. "He would not be such an obedient little pup if his dear mother were still alive."
Throwing her head back, she finished the remains of the glass in an un-classy gulp. "More." She gestured to Dobby, dabbing at a drop of wine near her lips with clumsy fingertips. "But does he listen to me? Does he ever now?"
"No?" Dobby asked nervously, pouring the dark alcohol into his mistress' cup. He didn't understand if she wanted an answer from him, or if she was asking away rhetorically; either way he provided one.
"No!" Narcissa shrieked in agreement. "What the bloody hell has gotten into him, acting as if my word isn't even a grain of sand compared to— more, Dobby!" She cut herself off, lifting her half-way full glass pointedly. "Top it off, be generous with it. We're not cleaning dust from our vaults... yet."
Dobby grimaced. This was the second bottle he opened. Hiding a little sigh, he did as he was told and nearly toppled the glass with wine.
"And that's another thing," Narcissa continued, pausing to sip. "Who does that madman think he is? Claiming my house, strutting around like he owns the place, sitting at my table, eating away every night, as if he provides the food. And does Lucius do a thing? No, he does not! I keep telling him 'Lucius, Riddle is way over the line' and 'Lucius, Riddle's little plan is costing us more than I like' and 'Lucius, Riddle's snake has eaten another peacock!' and he's all like 'I know he is, Cissy' and 'We have enough, Cissy' and 'I'll buy you another one, Cissy'. And I just can't stand it, Dobby! I supported his little grouping last time, but now he's just far too deep into this. I can't even drink in peace in my own drawing room without that wanker wandering around, all simpering and chatty, like: 'Wonderful starry evening, isn't it?' and 'Lovely shade for carpeting, isn't that right?' and 'Magnificent artifact for a Horcrux, don't you agree?"
Familiar with the inclined glass by then, Dobby only touched the mouth of the bottle and watched the dark liquid fill the cup again as Narcissa continued to rant. Where was Young Master Draco when his mother needed to vent?
"And then he-he has the nerve, the audacity, Dobby- he wonders why I have been less than warm to him. Less than warm?!" She sneered into the air, shifting around the armchair and making little drops of wine run down the glass in the process. "Of course I'll be less than warm if he lets a psychopath into my home! How dare he! I'm just about done! My system just can't take any longer. Just last night I realized my hair is falling off. Do you know what that means, Dobby?"
"No, Mistress."
"It means stress!" Narcissa snapped, splashing wine down her front. "No, leave it, Dobby," she told the elf as the little wrinkled creature rushed to evaporate the stain. "It's a metaphor for my life at the moment. A bright splotchy stain has made itself comfortable on my body. And I'm just letting it do as it pleases! Maybe I'm the one at fault," she whispered thoughtfully. "No, that's not right," she dismissed instantly, flopping a hand in the air while she took a gulp of wine. "Of course I'm not at fault. It's my dear daft husband who is. You know what I'll say to that tosser next time I see him? I'll say: 'Lucius, you gormless blond imbecile, you see this? You see this shapeless taint on me? It's a symbol of your stupidity. It's bleeding out of me. It has taken another host, seeing as it has filled you to the brim. You're nearly spitting with moronic witless buffoonery and it has started to show on me, and I refuse to let it happen a second longer, you cane-holder little arse-licker!"
"Mistress!" Dobby had to interfere, his big ears flopping around as he shook his head. "Mistress must not talk ill of Master Malfoy! Mistress will rot her tongue!" And then he bit his own tongue, hard, because of his impertinent advice.
"It's the truth, Dobby! And stop that," Narcissa frowned while he continued to punish himself. "I need you to keep the wine flowing."
The elf stopped at once, thanked her for her kindness and then made a face as she continued her rant. "Mistress is feeling way too kind, Dobby. Have I given him too much of a free leash? Oh, my mother always warned me about this. 'A man with a tight rope on his neck will prefer to end it all with a last yank, but a man with a loose one will wander away without you realizing it'. Wise woman, my mother. A bit too harsh sometimes but it proved to be fortuitous. Now I wonder if I should've snapped his neck when I had the chance. He hasn't looked my way since that lunatic was vomited from that cauldron. Men would have killed to be in his place, and he ignores that after so many years? He used to practically lick the very ground I'd walk on. Does he think my soles will keep themselves clean?"
"Dobby will clean them better, he will, Mistress!" The elf reassured the woman, gripping the wine bottle between his long fingers.
"I'm not complaining about your cleaning abilities, you tiny parchment-looking being! He has to wake up from that evil-induced dream he's living on. He's always had a hard on for superiority. Honestly," she scoffed, swirling the wine around the glass again. "What utter rubbish is that? Of course we're superiors! But do we need to rub it in everyone's pore-filled noses? No, because they know already! They're aware! You're supposed to act like you ignore your status, not use it to drill the fact into people's heads! It's not admirable anymore if you show it off! Ugh, he doesn't deserve me!"
"No one does, Mistress."
"You're right. Not even Draco. That little prat, he's following his father's footsteps. 'Look at my broomstick, Potter!' and 'Look at my dark mark, Potter!' or 'Look how I kiss this reptilian's bum, Potter!' How did I produce such a ninny!" Drowning her suffering, she took a few hearty gulps of wine and shivered at the increase of alcohol in her system. "I'm going to bury those two. Such pair of Hippogriff dung they are."
"Will Mistress need another bottle?" Dobby questioned nervously, observing the almost empty bottle in his hands with large eyes.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, Mistress will." Narcissa nodded with narrowed eyes. "You should go and fetch it now," she said as she, still elegantly, for her inebriated state, rose to her feet, glass of wine still held in one hand. "I'll be finishing this in no time." She took the bottle from Dobby and walked to her bed, hearing the house elf disappear behind her.
"I'll show him less than warm," she muttered in swaying anger as she poured the contents of the bottle in her cup, sucking the last drops of wine directly from the mouth when the glass was full. "I'll get right onto that when he returns home." Narcissa took another sip, sitting down on the bed while she threw the empty bottle of wine on the floor. The table was too far and there it seemed like a good place to leave it on. If there was any broken glass, Dobby would take care of it.
"If only Dobby could swipe the Dark Lord from my house as well." Narcisa muttered into the depths of her cup as Dobby returned with another bottle.
"Dobby could try." He offered hesitantly.
Narcissa considered it for a moment, pausing with her lips touching the glass and her hazy eyes on her pale feet. "We'll check Charms for Unwanted Houseguests in the morning. Maybe I'll find a spell for Lucius' idiocy."
She fell asleep discussing hexes and spells, continuing her hate-rant on her husband until she was hanging off the bed, body limp with unconsciousness and empty glass on the floor.
When Lucius came home that night, he only a neatly tucked in Narcissa in bed. Besides a faintly alcoholic scent in the air, the room was spotless.
"Did you have a good night, dear?" Lucius asked her next morning over breakfast.
"Mm? Oh, yes, nothing out of the ordinary." Narcissa smiled prettily, nursing a glass of orange juice. "Not a word to anyone." She murmured to Dobby as the elf made a Pepper-up potion appear silently into her other palm.
"Good morning." Voldemort said as he walked into the room.
"My Lord!" Lucius exclaimed, giving the other man his full attention as soon as he turned his head.
"Excellent day ahead. Weather seems to be nice, doesn't it, Narcissa?" Voldemort sent her a pleasant smile as he took a seat at the head of the table. Her table.
"Sure does, my Lord." She smiled back, ever the picture of pure blood perfection.
As she watched Nagini slither inside the room, she threw a vaguely contained look of annoyance in Lucius' direction, only to be met with a bland smile and a 'what can you do, Cissy?' shrug.
"Find me that book." She muttered under her breath to a terrified and shaking Dobby, who was trying-and failing-to ignore the large snake, as the two men on the table began talking about the day's agenda.
She'd show those set of cunts.
In the meanwhile, she hoped there was enough wine to keep her going.
A/N #2: Plz Review, I think I hated this and I need friends.