A/N: Prompt: Write about someone's first visit to Knockturn Alley.
Additional Prompts:
7. (word) history
13. (object) padlock
14. (quote) "Money is the root of all money." -Uknown
Word Count: 1,465
Draco Malfoy will not remember his first trip to Knockturn Alley, but his mother Narcissa knows she won't forget it in a hurry.
It's been less than a week since the Dark Lord fell, and already the Ministry is mobilizing against suspected Death Eaters. Lucius always says "Money is the root of all money", and thus far money, is what has kept auror scum off her doorstep, but money only goes so far against overwhelming public outcry for. Currently Lucius is defending Narcissa and himself to Millicent Bagnold and Merlin knew who else, and she is at home with an inconsolable infant.
Narcissa does not come from a particularly nurturing family. Her father used to call her his "little china doll" which did nothing to persuade her from her constant veneer of stoicism. And yet, she feels she has done well for herself so far, but Draco is so clingy. She puts him down for just a moment and he starts screaming. It doesn't help that she feels like screaming too. If she could get him to settle for just a minute, she could come up with a plan. She needs a way to help aid the effort to convince the Ministry of whatever Lucius is currently spinning. She could kick herself now for how foolish and blindly loyal she and her husband had been. The idea that the Dark Lord had perished and, if the rumors were to be believed, at the hands of a baby, was so far out of the realm of possibility...and yet here they are.
Narcissa turns a corner into a dimly lit portion of corridor, baby Draco still whimpering against her shoulder when it hits her. Knockturn Alley. There's a shop there, she'd been inside on more than one occasion as a child. If anyone knows how to help her family, Mr. Borgin does.
And so it is, an hour later, that Narcissa and Draco are bundled against the November air, and a trunk filled with some ancient family heirlooms is being suspended in mid-air. Narcissa daren't use the Floo Network, she wouldn't with the baby anyway, but it's still too great a risk that the Ministry is watching her. She walks down the main drive of Malfoy Manor, by now it's well into nightfall, and she aparates just beyond that point, Draco mercifully sleeping for the moment.
When she reappears, she is confronted by utter darkness and filth. The gas lamps are dusty, and offer a light radius of just a few feet. She wrinkles her nose at a rotting smell, but pays no further heed. It's a risk to expose herself like this, but she doesn't know what else to do. Even if Lucius is successful, eventually inquiries are going to made, and she is not letting the likes of Alastor Moody go through her belongings.
Narcissa recognizes a shabby bakery and knows she isn't far. Securing her grip on Draco, cradled to her left shoulder, she continues down the cobblestone street, each thwack the padlock makes against the side of the trunk makes her jump slightly in response.
She's greeted by a closed sign, but with a wave of her wand the door is unlocked, and she's made her way inside.
"We're closed," she hears the bark coming from deep in the back room.
"Please, I'm Narcissa Malfoy, I need help." This seems to get his attention, as a moment later the gnarled old wizard is facing her behind the counter.
"Cygnus' daughter? Lucius' wife? Where is your husband madame?" Narcissa frowns slightly at Borgin's personal intrusion.
"He had an appointment to keep. Can you help me or not?" Borgin licks his lips in a gesture that makes her shudder slightly.
"That depends greatly, madame, on your being who you say you are." Narcissa is prepared for this.
"The first time my father brought me to this shop, he sold you a pair of earring that had been made of the crushed bones of my great-great grandmother's last house elf." Borgin's eyes gleam, no doubt remembering the haggling that went on for ages over that.
"Right you are my dear, very well-"
"I haven't finished. How much did he sell it to you for?" Borgin blanches slightly, clearly not thinking that she would consider the possibility of his being an imposter. She's pleased to have shocked him, if only a little.
"Seventeen galleons wasn't it?" She nods. She only remembers this because it's the exact amount needed in order to buy what she'd asked for for her birthday, and Bellatrix and complained endlessly about having wanted those earrings for herself one day. The truth was, she was just jealous, the earrings themselves had been objectively hideous, and Bella had known that.
Returning to the present situation, Narcissa raises her wand, and with it, she rests the trunk upon the counter. Draco shifts some, but doesn't make a sound. Borgin raises his eyebrows at the treasure chest before him.
"Mr. Borgin I need this to disappear. I do not care what you do with it, only that it not be connected to my family in any way, shape, or form. You can see by the chest itself that that alone is worth about 50 galleons, but I don't have time to discuss finer points now, so I'm willing to offer you the trunk and its contents for 70 galleons and say nothing more about it." Borgin chuckles unpleasantly, and Narcissa is forcibly reminded of a hideous painting in her aunt and uncle's house, but doesn't dwell further because Borgin is preparing to bargain down.
"Given the severity of the times, Mrs. Malfoy, I am prepared to offer you 60 galleons, with my continued discretion and promise of further dealings in the future should you require it."
"Yes, alright fine." It comes out shorter, perhaps, than she intends, but she's in a hurry. Draco is starting to stir again, and Lucius will be worried if they aren't there when he returns. She looks into Borgin's face, who looks rather crestfallen that he hasn't been able to keep her engaged any further in the bargaining. Neither comments on this though, because at that moment a commotion is heard from outside the window. Being held at wand point is Vincent Crabbe, and his assailant appears to be Rufus Scrimgeour. Narcissa quickly moves as far from the window as possible. The noise has frightened Draco, and he has chosen to air his grievances in quite a demanding manner.
"You can apparate from behind my shop, I'll send you the money later, just get going!" Being in no position to argue with him, Narcissa follows Borgin through the back, into an alley and quickly disapparates, hoping that Borgin found time to hide the trunk before Scrimgeour realized what part of Knockturn Alley he'd followed Crabbe into.
Narcissa has begun to shake with latent fear when she enters the parlor to find Lucius waiting for her with a thunderous expression on his face.
"Where on earth have you been? I came home a half hour ago and that stupid elf wouldn't tell me anything!" Draco seems sufficiently interested in the flames of the fireplace, and has stopped squalling, giving Narcissa time to ease them both into a welcoming armchair.
"I didn't tell him where we were going. I didn't want you to worry." Lucius scoffs.
"Well, I've been worried, so might as well have out with it." Narcissa's facade crumbles. She tells Lucius about Borgin, and Scrimgeour and Crabbe, and begs him to spare her his tirade about how Knockturn Alley is no place for a baby, and how stupid could she be to think that it was at all safe to try to get their things to Borgin with the Ministry hot on their's and everyone else's heels, because she knows all that, but she wasn't going to just sit by and do nothing!
Lucius looks at his wife and son, both sobbing, and feels everything. Anger at the disgraceful things that have brought them to this moment. Shame that he is unable to protect his family from mudbloods, blood traitors, and the general filth of the world they inhabit, but most importantly love. Love for this woman who would sacrifice so much to save him. Because, ultimately, he understands that she did what she did to protect him, and he understands that because he said everything he said to Millicent Bagnold today, groveling at her feet like a dog, out of love for this woman and their son. And none of those feelings are things Lucius is capable of expressing in words, so he puts words aside, and he kneels in front of his wife and son, trying to hold them both close, using his hands to say what his voice cannot.