The Boy Who Lived
November 1st, 1981 - early morning
Narcissa Malfoy gently fingered the drapery panel, pulling it back just enough to allow her view of the manors front lawn and the walkway that lead to the front door. Her eyes fell momentarily to the peacock sauntering lazily across the grass, a spot of white against the pink and orange early dawn sky. Her husband Lucius, came through the large heavy gates at the far end of the path, walking toward the house slowly, his head down, giving him the look of a conquered man.
Narcissa's blue eyes followed her husbands' progress up the path, until he moved from her view as he stepped onto the doorstep. She let the drapery fall from her fingers and crossed from the window over to her infant sons crib. At just a year and a half old, Draco's features were already reflecting the Malfoy blood line. His hair, on the brownish side at birth, had recently begun to lighten.
Narcissa stretched her hand into the crib and gently brushed a lock of that blonde hair off Draco's forehead, her fingertips lingering for a moment as she caressed his cheek. Love swelled within her chest, ebbing the tide of trepidation that had been building for hours, ever since the rumors first reached their doorstep.
The moon was high in the evening sky and Narcissa placed Draco on the floor of the drawing room, and crossed to the windows, about to pull the drapes when she noticed two men apparate just on the other side of the heavy gates. Narcissa raised an eyebrow, recognizing them as Death Eaters. Crabbe and Goyle, she thought, although she did not know which was which, they were interchangeable in her mind. "Lucius," she called over her shoulder, "You have company. Do not let them stay to long. I am not in the mood for guests this evening."
"Who?" Lucius walked up behind her and looked out the window. "Oh," he said, and waved his wand, opening the gates and allowing his fellow Death Eaters entrance. "No need to worry, Darling, I'll…" his sentence fell into thin air as he realized Crabbe and Goyle were running down the path. "Something's happened," he told his wife and rushed from the room to meet the two men at the front door.
Narcissa scooped Draco up from the floor and held him close as she listened. In their panic, the voices of the two visitors were an octave or two higher than normal, and they were both talking at the same time, words overlapped and spilled from them, rushed and scrambled. Certain words came to her, Dark Lord…Potter boy…. Grodric's Hollow. She heard Lucius ask one worded questions, trying to ascertain all that he could before allowing himself to contract their panic like a disease.
Draco, tired of being held, and wanting to play with the miniature snakes and spiders that had been his Halloween present, squirmed, but his mother held him all the tighter to her chest. Icy fingers of dread curled in her stomach. Could it be true, she wondered. Could the Dark Lord actually be…? No, she told herself. Crabbe and Goyle were both dull-witted, and must have misunderstood something they'd heard. What they were saying couldn't possibly be accurate.
Lucius came into the room, both his traveling cloak and walking stick in his hands. "I'm not sure... They're saying… Better go and see for myself." And with those ominous words, he left the room. A moment later Narcissa heard the front door close.
Lucius' form appeared in the doorway, a dark relief against the torch lit hall. The shadow broke through Narcissa's thoughts.
"Well?" she asked her voice just above a whisper. "Is it true?"
Lucius did not answer her right away. He moved into the nursery, his gait still slower than usual, but his head lifted now that he knew Narcissa's eyes were on him. He did not want to appear weak in front of his wife. He stopped at Draco's crib, on the opposite side from where Narcissa stood, feeling her eyes on him as he gazed down at their son.
"Lucius…" Narcissa prompted the beginning of desperation in her voice.
Lifting his gaze from his son, he locked eyes with his wife for the first time since entering the room; Lucius thought he could see the tiniest bit of hope mingled in with the apprehension reflecting back at him.
"Yes," Lucius finally said, a bit of a crack in his voice. Was that regret, Narcissa wondered, or relief? "The rumors are true." He paused for a moment, letting the realization sink in. "The Dark Lord is…" Lucius searched for the correct word. What was it was the Dark Lord was? Dead? Defeated? Destroyed? "Gone," he finished.
Narcissa's face seemed to tighten, as she held her true emotions at bay, an expression Lucius had become more and more familiar with in the preceding months. She straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin. "Well then…" she began, and didn't seem to know what it was she wanted or needed to say. She broke the gaze Lucius held with her and looked back down at their sleeping son.
"The boy…" Narcissa began, knowing the Potter boy was no older than her own son.
"He lives," resentment threaded through Lucius' voice, "Both of his parents are dead, but the boy…" he looked again down into the crib. "The boy survives. They're saying he has only a small wound on his forehead," Lucius reached out a finger and ran it gently over Draco's brow, the lock of hair Narcissa had just pushed back fell once again over Draco's sleeping eyes.
"Why did…How did…What will we…" Narcissa couldn't seem to decide which answers she needed first.
He knew the questions she hadn't been able to ask. Death Eaters were asking those very same questions amongst themselves. "I don't know why he went after the Potters. No one seems to know. Or, at least they're claiming not to know." Lucius' head lifted and he looked over at Narcissa for a moment before leaving the side of the crib and crossing through the shadow of early dawn sunlight, just visible through the draped window. He sank into a gold and dark green silk loveseat tucked into the corner of the room next to that window. Lucius hunched over, his elbows resting on his knees and scrubbed his face with his hands, the reality of the night's events and the utter devastation of his future, and his sons' future, taking full weight on his shoulders. Narcissa turned where she stood, watching him silently.
"And as to how a one year old half blood bested the Dark Lord…" the words almost spit from his mouth. He raised his head from his hands and looked to his wife. "It's being assumed that he is a powerful wizard." He let his eyes find the steam of brightening sunlight. "He would have to be," he added quietly.
Narcissa lifted her eyes, and watched her husbands face for a moment. While she had agreed with the Dark Lords ideas, believed that pure bloods were meant to rule, not only their own world, but the muggle world as well, she hadn't liked the man Lucius had been turning into, he had been changing from the self-assured, bold man she had fallen in love with to into a follower, slavishly agreeing with anything and everything the Dark Lord had requested. She would have her husband back soon, she thought to herself, the man she married, the man she wanted her sons father to be. If they didn't end up in Azkaban, that is.
"The Imperius Curse," Narcissa uttered quietly. "We'll tell them you were imperiused." Lucius drug his eyes away from the dawning sunlight and met her gaze.
"Yes," he agreed "And gold. A lot of gold. Donations to Millicent Bagnold's favorite charities, I think."