A magnificent breakfast feast had just been delivered to the table by one of the house elves. A variety of fruit colored the table so brightly that the steam rising from the hotcakes seemed almost to glow. At one end of the vibrant assortment, a set of pale blue eyes wandered disinterestedly over the food, the tablecloth, and seemed to completely ignore the other two pairs of eyes at the table. Indeed, Narcissa Malfoy had made herself no more of a presence in the dining room than a statue would have.
Across the table, Narcissa's husband Lucius sat stiffly, eating his food in silence. Even seated and with his mouth full, Lucius was a commanding presence. Something about the neatness of his long, blonde hair, the incline of his chin, the carved harshness of his eyes—these things reminded Narcissa that breakfast would go by much more smoothly if she kept her mouth shut.
Her son, Draco, on the other hand, seemed to be searching intently for something to say. His eyes were exactly the same grey color that distinguished Lucius's eyes, but the similarity ended there. The grey of Lucius's eyes was cold and biting, his eyes were the kind that people were afraid to look directly into, but would always remember. People wanted to look into Draco's eyes, though. They still bore a sort of inquisitive innocence which, though muted with age, never left them completely. Narcissa watched these eyes as they glowed hopefully and Draco began to speak.
"This is the best breakfast I've had this summer, father," he began. "We should really compliment the help for their impeccable work today." At that moment, a house elf entered the dining hall with another plate of hotcakes.
"Well, elf, I daresay it's taken you long enough to cook a suitable breakfast for my family. I'm glad that you've finally prepared something edible." Lucius shot Draco a sideways glance. "Mediocrity may be acceptable in some homes, Elf, but not here."
Narcissa stared diligently at her plate, ignoring the hasty, desperate apologies of the house elf, and flat replies of her husband. She pushed her plate away from her softly; though she did not actually look, she could see Draco's eyes faltering, having failed in their quest for some kind of friendliness or reassurance.
"Aren't you hungry, Narcissa?" Lucius asked her irritably.
"How could I be," she said slowly, "when this mediocre food is all that is offered to me?"
"Those, Draco, are the standards a Malfoy should hold." Lucius twisted his lips upward into a vindictive smile. "Never settle for less than the absolute best. And if you think you've found what is best, either seize it for your own, or elevate your standards. In the case of this breakfast, there is certainly better."
"Yes, Father," Draco muttered.
Never settle for less… Narcissa turned the words over bitterly in her head. It's terribly ironic, Lucius, she thought, that the day I married you, the day I became a Malfoy, I settled for less.
"Mistress Malfoy." She hadn't even heard the butler approach the table, but he now stood at her side.
"What is it, Gregor?"
"Owl for you, m'lady."
Narcissa raised her thin eyebrows in mild surprise. "Thank you, Gregor." He placed a scroll of parchment on the table before Narcissa, and exited. Her eyes darted about the page as she skimmed through its text, and her forehead began to crease.
"What is it, Narcissa?" Lucius asked in a tone of voice which managed to make even his suspicion sound arrogant. His wife's lips parted slightly, but she did not respond. He leaned in closer, peering down at her plate. On the glittering silver, he could see the words "Ministry of Magic: Department of Deeds and Trusts" reflected clearly. "Narcissa."
The woman's heart had begun to pound. She dropped the letter into her lap. Lucius didn't know. The place wouldn't still be standing if he'd known. He couldn't know, it—
"Narcissa. Why did the Department of Deeds and Trusts send you an owl?"
"Well, Lucius, as I believe you know, a relative of mine recently passed away."
"A certain Sirius Black, perhaps?"
"Of course. Which means that the Ministry has been sorting out the destination of his inheritance, as Black had no heir. The tradition of the Black family has been to keep the Black fortune in the Black family. His things are to be passed on to the closest living relative."
"Don't tell me—"
"Me. I'm the next of kin."
"Oh, you've got to be joking, Narcissa. You'll reply to the Ministry, letting them know you won't be accepting."
Narcissa's lips tightened. "Lucius, you know I can't do that."
"Why the hell not?" He snapped, standing.
"Because, as a Black—"
"You're not a Black, you're a Malfoy!" Lucius' was a fearful figure to behold. He didn't quite look furious; his fury was too well hidden behind his metallic eyes, but twenty-five years had taught Narcissa that the fury was there. It had built up quickly, and could erupt with equal ease. Narcissa proceeded cautiously.
"Of course I'm a Malfoy," she said sweetly. "But I have an obligation to my blood. Lucius, it's just a few galleons and a piece of property. It's not like they'd even be noticed amongst all our assets. It's from a pure line, and at least I know in my hands, it will remain in good repute." She reached out, and deftly took a lock of hair from behind her husband's ears, wove it through her fingers, and whispered, "toujours pur, yes?"
Lucius hesitated for a moment. "Of course," he said. "Always."
"I know you hated him. He was a traitor to his name, and his blood."
"His inheritance belonged to you long before he died. He wasn't worthy," Lucius snarled as he swallowed the bait his wife had dangled before him.
"Well, it will be in good hands now, then, won't it?" Narcissa gave a sly grin, which her husband returned.
"Very well then. Make the necessary reply to the Ministry. Draco and I have some important business to take care of today." With a swish of his cloak, Lucius was halfway out the door, Draco trailing after him.
In the empty dining hall, Narcissa buried her face in her hands. He could just as easily have said no, she thought heavily, then cleared her mind of the thought. It doesn't matter. I'm fine now. But they'll have to know. I'll have to tell them. And with both Lucius and Draco gone… it will have to be today. Her mind was swimming. The stifled emotions of twenty-nine years brought anxious tears to her eyes, tears that only strengthened her resolve. When she vanished from Malfoy Manor, she knew she would not be welcome at the destination that had been inked onto a deed in her name. She made her way to Number 12 Grimmauld Place anyway.