Disclaimer: I have been informed that Tim Burton has taken out a copyright on Tim Burton inspired weirdness, therefore I do not even own that. Alas!
Summary AU Narcissa Malfoy had a secret. As secrets went, this one wasn't the kind old hags gossiped about at a knitting circle. It was however the kind of secret which often spent most of its time avoiding maggots and signing his artwork "R.A.B"… An Inferius Tale.
(A/N: This story came to me while I was listening to The Nightmare Before Christmas soundtrack. Couple that with my odd personality and imagination and you get this piece.
Beware this will be excessively odd, weird and morbid but nevertheless I will try and make it lighthearted after its own fashion. Eventual Hermione/Regulus, however unlike my Valentines Day fic this won't be as cheesy and it will not center around romance. Don't worry, no zombie sex here.
And yes, this is a fic about Inferi, and yes, I'm aware that Inferi are supposed to be mindless, but let me assure you there is reason, pseudo-science and Snape behind the madness. You'll see.)
Desiderium
Prologue
A whirlwind of fresh parchment went flying into the air, gently floating down as though carried by invisible hands onto the cobblestones in front of Malfoy Manor as Narcissa Malfoy put up a futile struggle. There was a crystalline shatter as an inkwell succumbed to gravity and a splatter of ink splashed the hems of Mrs. Malfoy's silk robes and drenched the paved garden path like ersatz blood.
"No need to make such a fuss now," said a burly Auror with spectacles as thick as aquarium glass, "Unless you have something to hide…"
"You have no right to invade my home," hissed Narcissa, ignoring the snide accusations and glaring at the carnage of quills, parchment and ink that lay scattered on the cobbles, casualties of an inane battle.
"Oh, but we do, show her the warrant Gladys."
A presumptuous looking witch who was almost spherical in stature took out an equally presumptuous looking document with a hasty signature "Rufus Scrimgeour" scrawled near the bottom right hand corner.
"We just want to ask you a few questions about your son, Mrs. Malfoy. No use fretting, I assure you that if you're cooperative you'll be back home tomorrow evening," the bespectacled Auror continued, restraining Narcissa with a quick charm and pushing her along with short merciless jabs in the back courtesy his wand.
As she was led past the Apparition points on the property, the reality of the situation sank in. Narcissa Malfoy was going to be late.
0oo0
The grimy floor was carpeted by parchment to the point where the somber grey stone was almost completely obscured. A rickety table was home to a quill and an inkwell. A small ornate silver lantern cast a frail glow around the room, illuminating thousands of moving sketches of various bones, spiders, portraits of a blonde haired woman and startlingly realistic depictions of the room itself, all signed with a spidery signature; 'R.A.B'.
On the other side of the room (which was coincidently only twelve paces away) a thin figure sat on a decaying wooden casket. It was so still it could have been mistaken for a wax sculpture, but it was in fact a boy. At least it looked like a boy, if one wanted to get technical it was the corpse of a boy.
He had just run out of parchment. He never ran out of parchment. Cissy had seen to that. Cissy had always been a constant in his life, she came the same time every week bearing a pile of parchment, ink and a new sugar quill. She talked to him too, she always asked the same question; 'Do you remember anything?' He was never sure what exactly he was supposed to be remembering, but every time he expressed this thought Cissy would merely smile sadly, pick up one of his drawings from the floor and take her leave.
That was another thing that was bothering him, where exactly did she go? The four walls grey walls of the tomb was the only thing he had ever known outside the hazy memories he never bothered to visit. He rarely gave any thought to what lay beyond. However now he was out of parchment and there was nothing to do but think restless thoughts. And perhaps, just maybe, formulate an adventure.
(Reviews, criticism and flames always help spur me onwards, backwards or sideways if you find that direction preferable, so don't forget to leave me a note. :D)