Notes: Takes place in January 2005 during the action of Reparations, but stands alone.
The reading of the Sunday Prophet was a long-held but unheralded tradition in the Malfoy household. Lucius rose between six and seven every morning, so by the time Narcissa made her way downstairs around eight he had already combed through the financial pages and flipped through the sports section and was often well on his way through the world news. He saved the U.K. pages for last, as he often liked to go through it with Narcissa and call her attention to various articles of interest.
Narcissa, meanwhile, greeting Lucius and taking her customary seat to his right at the table, would settle in with the society pages, occasionally murmuring in surprise or sharing news of note with her husband. There had been a time when there was a good deal to share, as anyone who might grace the society pages would have been a familiar face at their frequent dinner parties, the charity balls they attended, or at the club Lucius belonged to, the Cypress & Elm. Long years and the war had changed what the Malfoys would have considered "society" immeasurably, and now as often as not Narcissa read the society pages in silence, and with a look of great distaste.
Privately Narcissa would admit that she appreciated these quiet Sunday mornings with her husband, and until recently, her son. Draco had moved out of the Manor a month or so ago without warning, and Narcissa had not adjusted fully to his absence; as she descended the stairs that morning, she caught herself wondering when Draco might wake up and emerge from his rooms, rumpled and squinting, to nibble at breakfast and have a cup of tea before retiring back to bed for a few more hours.
When she had mentioned to Lucius that she felt Draco's move had been rather sudden, he had said dryly, "Did it feel that way to you?"
Whatever Lucius might say, and however much of a handful Draco had been over the past few years, she knew that Lucius missed him too - and worried about him just as much as Narcissa did. Draco had only been back at home for a year or so since getting into a bit of trouble on the continent and needing to take some time to rest and recuperate in a facility in Switzerland, for the second time in the past few years. Although he irritably reassured her that he was fine now, that he had the trouble well in hand, she could not help but feel anxious that he was going off on his own again so soon.
A steaming cup of tea was already fixed for her, as well as a spread of kippers, eggs, toast, sausages and bacon. Lucius had finished breakfast already and was having coffee.
He looked up from the paper as she took her seat, sliding the U.K. section across to her.
"You'll want to read the item about the new Task Force to Advance Muggleborn Interests," he told her. "Shacklebolt has assembled a truly laughable lineup to champion his little cause."
"Good morning," she murmured in return, accepting the paper.
"That project has been utterly ill conceived from the start. This just guarantees they'll lose any momentum they might have gained from that simpering write up in the Prophet last week."
"I don't suppose it matters, darling. Nothing important has ever been decided upon by a committee, as you always say."
Narcissa was tired of Lucius getting himself worked up over these matters. After the war he had promised her they might retire somewhere peaceful. His house arrest, the ugly attention from the press, and the embarrassing defection of families who they had once considered close friends had left her feeling slightly soiled and even shamed, wanting nothing more than a fresh start somewhere.
Money could buy them any second chance they could possibly dream of, but Lucius, despite the many soothing reassurances he offered, had shown no actual interest in quitting public life. Though he remained mostly out of circulation, not giving dinners, making showy endowments, or calling on his friends and contacts in the Ministry, the ferocious attention he paid to news about things like this foolish task force gave her the impression that he was merely biding his time, waiting for the moment the wind turned before he leapt back into action.
She knew he was bored and restless, tired of the heavy yoke he had carried for their family after the war. While Narcissa and Draco had been cleared of charges on their own and Harry Potter's testimony (the name was still bitter in her mouth), Lucius had carried the burden of their collective guilt, being placed on probation and house arrest as well as paying heavy fines for his role in the war. It had been less than some families had been forced to bear - serving time in the new prison that been constructed after Azkaban had been torn down, or worse, having to turn in one's wand - but it had worn heavily on Lucius. He was a proud man, and being forced to submit and publicly atone for his behavior in this fashion had taken a toll on him.
Once free from house arrest he had compensated by throwing himself into new hobbies, among them sailing. This summer he had collected his third boat, a stately-looking catamaran. Narcissa had tried to be supportive, but struggled.
"If you ever name a boat after me, I'll divorce you," she had told him, when he asked her for suggestions.
That wasn't even to mention all the trouble Draco had gotten himself into since the trial, which had brought yet more embarrassment and scrutiny on their family. It was little consolation to her and Lucius that Draco was far from the only pureblooded youth who had indulged in a few vices to compensate for the difficult situation in which they now found themselves, as the indecent glee the media took in any slight misstep from the Malfoy family elevated Draco's indiscretions far above the rest.
Probably because Narcissa had been thinking of Draco, she had a vision of his name printed on the paper she held now in front of her. She shook her head to clear it, and saw, vividly printed in the Announcements section:
Mr D. L. Malfoy and Miss A. M. Greengrass
The engagement is announced between Draco, son of Mr and Mrs Lucius Malfoy, of Wiltshire, and Astoria, younger daughter of Mr and Mrs Alphius Greengrass, Herefordshire.
Narcissa read the announcement several times and stared at it without seeing for some minutes more. There had been an error, she decided. Draco had not asked her for the ring. And he would never have forgotten his promise.
"Narcissa? Is something the matter?"
"I believe so," she told Lucius calmly. "It seems there's been a mistake."
She set the paper down, excusing herself from the table to finish getting dressed. Bewildered, Lucius picked up the page from where she had dropped it and began scanning.
He called her name as she reached the top of the stairs, looking up at her beseechingly, his face pale.
"Did you know about this?" He demanded.
"There's nothing to know," she told him. "There's been a simple error. They'll issue a correction."
A/N: Thank you for reading! More to come soon. Please let me know what you thought!