For my own Christmas Carol Challenge. Carol is "Bring A Torch, Jeanette Isabella," the English translation of "Un Flambeau, Jeanette Isabella." 588 words. Enjoy!
Bring A Torch
It was late on Christmas Eve and Narcissa Malfoy was just putting the finishing touches to her outfit of white and silver satin for the ball at the Prince Manor, when she heard the unmistakeable "Crack!" of someone Apparating on to the sweeping gravel drive outside her house.
For a moment, she froze; not knowing if she dared go down to find out who it was. It could be Lucius, but the "Crack!" was too far outside for that – any one wearing a Malfoy signet ring like he did could Apparate straight into the Manor.
She could have called for an Elf to go and find out, but something stopped her. She wanted to deal with this herself. She was a Black, for Merlin's sake. For all she had Rosier Blood, she had been born and raised a Black. She was a Black.
Waving her wand at the window, she melted the panes of glass so that she could hear outside as well as within the Manor…only to hear, to her delight, Lucius's silky purr calling up to her "Come down, Narcissa Chastity. Come down and bring a torch! Bring a torch, Narcissa Chastity!"
Smiling in relief, she wrapped an ice-blue velvet robe around herself and ran to do as he'd said.
There was never any question in her mind that it was Lucius. Only he knew that "Bring A Torch, Jeanette, Isabella," was her favourite Christmas Carol. Only he changed it to fit with her name. It had to be him.
Leaning down to put her mouth to the peephole by the front door, she murmured "I'll open the side door, my love," and, a few moments later, had fulfilled her promise, flinging the door wide and standing there, seemingly angelic in the light thrown out by the torch held in one hand.
The three people standing there all wore masks, but the voice had already given one of them away. The voice had given one away and the wild black curls escaping their confines told Narcissa that one of the others could only be her sister Bellatrix. That left the third to be Rodolphus. He never left her sister's side.
"Bella, Lucius, Rodolphus, come in. Quickly. You don't want to be caught," she hissed, beckoning them to join her in the passageway.
"There's no need to fear that tonight, Cissy," Bella laughed wildly, catching her sister's hands and spinning her round in sheer joy. "We don't need to fear that ever again!"
"Why? What's happened?"
"Robards is dead. The Ministry is ours. Our Lord is King," Rodolphus explained, in his deep, gravelly tones.
Narcissa flushed with pleasure, "Merlin be praised!"
"Our Lord be Praised!" Bella insisted. "He's the one who brought it about. He's the only one who could ever have managed this!"
Releasing Narcissa briefly, she caught hold of her husband's hand and drew him into their little circle, even as Narcissa caught at Lucius, doing the same to him. Hands clasped, they stood together in the hallway, eyes gleaming with pride and rightful superiority as Bella intoned the first line of an old hymn that they had all be taught as children, "Rejoice! The Lord is King! Rejoice! The Lord is King! Rejoice! The Lord is King!"
"The Lord is King!" Narcissa, Lucius and Rodolphus chorused the words in a sweet echo of Bellatrix's triumphant tones and then the four of them, suddenly forgetting their maturity, burst out into the hall of Malfoy Manor, dancing around in one great rapturous circle.