Summary: Voldemort witnesses a tender moment between the Malfoys and decides that his once-trustworthy servant is now truly useless to him. DH spoilers.
Disclaimer: None of the characters or places belong to me.
This takes place shortly after the events of chapter one of Deathly Hallows. Voldemort's POV. XXX indicates time has passed.
Wasn't quite sure what to class this as, so it's gone under angst/hurt/comfort. Not sure how angsty it is though.
Traitors To Love
I twirled Lucius's wand between my fingers, revelling in the feeling of power that being in possession of two wands gave me. My faithful servants had since left my presence, taking the blood traitor's body with them. I was at leisure to do what I wished, and I felt it was time to explore my new base of operations. The Manor was perhaps a little draughty for my taste, and not all the furnishings matched my idea of style, but these were mere flippances in the bigger scheme of life. Bad carpets could be lived with, treachery could not.
I did not feel an intruder as I swept through the rooms, peering into cupboards and along dusty shelves. Lucius and Narcissa had welcomed me into their home, and I felt comfortable there. It mattered not that they had done so out of fear. An invitation over the threshold is an invitation over the threshold, whatever the circumstances may be. One cupboard spilled its contents as I opened it, the shattering of glass telling me I had located the whereabouts of the photographs that seemed so absent from the rest of the house. Fools. They could not hide anything from the Dark Lord's eyes. I picked up the topmost frame and turned it over, staring at the damaged picture beneath. The happy couple on their wedding day. I gave a shudder of disgust and threw the frame down with the rest, leaving the room in anger. I did not stop to repair the destruction that I had caused, all the better to remind my hosts that nothing was private anymore.
I heard a noise from above me. It reminded me of the cry of an infant yet it was lower, muffled, and not so grating on the ears. The rhythmic clicking of high heels revealed that Narcissa was going to investigate the disturbance. Naturally I felt I should follow. Unknowingly, she led me through the corridors and up two flights of stairs to the top of the house. I kept to the shadows as she cast a furtive glance around and entered the room from which the sound had come, foolishly leaving the door ajar for my inquisitive eyes.
Lucius knelt in a crumpled heap at the foot of the bed, his face hidden from the rest of the world. He looked up with wet and bleary eyes as Narcissa sat on the floor beside him and took his hands in hers.
"Look at me Cissa," he croaked. "No wand, no standing. No better than a muggle."
"You are infinitely better than any muggle," she assured him.
"I spent a year in Azkaban without shedding a tear and now I'm crying over a lost wand. What have I become Cissa?"
She didn't answer, instead she drew him closer to her, letting him weep against her shoulder whilst she murmured meaningless words of comfort. I felt my anger towards them rise. With this supposedly private display of affection, they were swift becoming all I despised and refused to believe, their actions a naïve act of betrayal.
"Be strong," whispered Narcissa.
"How can I be strong when I can't even protect my own family? What if something happens, Cissa? The Dark Lord is already angry with me."
That much was correct at least. It seemed that the man who had once been one of my most trusted associates was becoming more and more dispensable.
"We'll live," said Narcissa defiantly. "We've always lived. That's what you always told Draco and me, so believe it yourself. We have something that the Dark Lord can never hope to have. Use it. Use our love, Lucius."
I became incensed, my fingers reaching for a wand. But before I could act I heard a sharp intake of breath behind me. I turned but could see no one. Seconds later, a great silver shape burst forth from a door on the floor below and swept past me into the master bedroom. An eagle patronus spoke with Draco's voice, sending me into fresh waves of rage.
"He's outside the door, angry."
Lucius and Narcissa sprang apart like students caught in a broom-closet clinch. I slowly opened the door as they stood to face me. Such traitors to love, they would feel my anger acutely, as would their son for warning them, although that mattered little. They were helpless, not even Narcissa's wand could protect against my wrath. They would pay through pain, but I was not yet ready to kill. That would be too merciful...
XXX
I stepped over the unconscious form of one to where the other was attempting to stand.
"Tell me Lucius," I said, kicking him back to the ground where he belonged. "How does it feel to be tortured with your own wand?"