Chapter Two: Resistance
"I apologize, Lady Malfoy, but there's nothing we can do. Minister's orders."
Narcissa hadn't bothered attempting to sleep. She'd known it would be useless to do so, and instead, she'd spent her time preparing to face the Aurors. She'd studied more than her fair share of Wizarding law and politics over the years, whether by choice or by accident as Lucius had ranted to her about work and its frustrations, and she'd believed she was prepared to argue her way out of whatever excuse the Ministry tried to give her. Instead, they'd refuted her assertions that they were holding Lucius illegally and told her Minister Fudge had far more important things to deal with in the wake of the Ministry invasion than dealing with her complaints.
Lucius had always told her Fudge was an idiot, and now she found herself agreeing wholeheartedly. Fudge had seemed incompetent before, and Narcissa had often been of the mind that in his position advising the Minister, Lucius had been more in charge of things than had the other man. She'd hoped that the time the two had spent together and the willingness Lucius had always shown to assist Fudge and donate to whatever cause the Minister wished him to support would be worth something when it came down to drawing lines of loyalty. Now, as she stood shivering through layers of clothing within the stone walls of the prison she'd taken a boat to reach, it was clear that she'd placed too much faith in the system. She would not make that mistake again.
"This is illegal," Narcissa asserted, glaring at the pair of Aurors blocking her path. "By our laws, until you've proven my husband guilty of something, you have no right to keep me from seeing him!"
"Minister Fudge believes this attack warrants an exception, considering your husband was in the company of several prisoners who escaped Azkaban recently after being convicted of some fairly heavy crimes. And, you know, wearing the robes of a Death Eater after breaking in to the bloody Ministry." The Auror watched her with narrowed eyes. Though he was at least half a foot taller than she, Narcissa returned his glare full-force and kept her chin raised in defiance.
"Regardless of what proof you think you have," she said, her voice cold, "it is not enough to give you permission to violate our rights or to speak to me in that way." She'd spent the morning arguing with low-level Ministry personnel and the afternoon talking her way through their ranks only to be denied an audience with Fudge and told to take up her grievance with the Auror Office. They'd only laughed at her, and so she'd made her way to Azkaban, planning to continue pestering whoever would listen until she made some sort of progress.
"I've tried telling you politely, but you insist on pressing the matter." The Auror folded his arms over his chest, taking a step toward his companion. "There's nothing I can do, and to be frank, considering the trouble your husband gave us getting here, I don't think I would even if I could. He's dangerous."
A vicious surge of pride and satisfaction swept through Narcissa at the idea of Lucius giving the Aurors difficulty. In her estimation, they more than deserved it, for what they'd done to him. Narcissa knew, deep down far enough that she was often able to convince herself that she didn't, that she couldn't deny the crimes Lucius had committed. She knew it was the Aurors' job to put a stop to dark magic, but that didn't give them the right to be unnecessarily antagonistic, and in all honesty, she didn't care that they were doing what they were paid to do. All she cared about at the moment was Lucius, and these people were keeping her from him, which was unacceptable.
Lucius was 'dangerous,' the Auror had said. Narcissa had half a mind to show the man 'dangerous,' if he said another word against her husband. She'd taken all she could stand from Bellatrix, and the stress of the situation combined with her lack of sleep and her agitation at herself for the way she'd acted the previous night had combined to utterly destroy her patience.
She opened her mouth to protest further, but she stopped cold when her attention was arrested by the sound of voices from down the corridor. She caught sight of a group of Aurors surrounding a smaller group clad in stripes, and behind these men and women hovered a pair of dementors.
Narcissa had started toward them before her mind had fully processed her decision to move. She didn't know exactly what she expected to find—even if Lucius was among the prisoners, she couldn't hope to get to him without interference from the guards or, at worst, the dementors. Still, she knew she had to try. She had to do something, and if trying to reach him through a security detail was her only option, she thought, then so be it.
She ignored the shouts and footsteps from behind her—"You can't go that way!" "Get back here!"—and hurried forward. None of the faces of the Aurors were familiar, and the first person she caught sight of wearing the dull, oppressive prison colors was Travers, who met her gaze and nodded subtly to the side as the group's location and Narcissa's converged. She followed the gesture and shifted on her path, approaching from the other side and pretending not to notice the agitated cries of the guards both in front of and behind her.
I don't care. I don't care what they do to me. I need to see him.
And there he was, the robes she'd last seen him in stripped away in favor of the Azkaban uniform that looked indescribably uncomfortable and the smile he'd tried to give her as an apology as he'd left nowhere to be found. His gaze was hard and pointed forward.
"Lucius!"
He turned his head toward her, his grey eyes widening as he caught sight of her, and whatever compliance he'd shown to the Aurors evaporated. He pushed forward as she broke into a run, paying no mind to anyone or anything else and throwing her arms around his neck the instant she reached him.
"I'm so sorry," said Lucius, pulling her to him tightly and pressing his face to her hair. "They wouldn't let me contact you or—"
"This is not your fault." Narcissa shook her head hard as tears began to slip down her cheeks. "They're mad. They can't do this."
A hand closed around her arm and pulled her roughly backward, but still she held on, refusing to loosen her grip on her husband. She saw that several of the Aurors had now directed her attention to him and were attempting to pry the pair apart, but Lucius continued to struggle against them.
"They've already decided we're guilty," he said, shooting a poisonous look at one of the people who sought to pull him away before returning his focus to Narcissa.
"I'll get you out of here—I'll—I'll find a way." A second hand gripped her waist and pulled her back, and though she put the entirety of her weight into resisting, she knew she wouldn't be able to for long.
"Get yourself out of here!" Lucius glanced to the dementors, which had begun to glide forward to assist the human guards, and when his eyes returned to his wife's, they were panicked for the first time she could recall in years. "It's not safe. Protect Draco, Cissy, and protect yourself. I'll be fine." As one of the Aurors gave a particularly forceful pull, one of Lucius's hands slipped from Narcissa's waist, and she lost her grip on his shoulders. When he turned his head to snarl at the Auror, she noticed a dark marking along his neck that hadn't been there the previous night, and her stomach turned. After less than a day here, they had marked him. A series of numbers and letters was emblazoned on his pale skin, and suddenly, the urge to strike one of the people pulling at either of them rushed over Narcissa.
"I will," she called over the rising shouts of the people around her. A few of the other Death Eaters had seized the opportunity to attempt to fight their way out, and jets of light had begun to ricochet down the stone corridor. "Lucius, I'm—I'm so sorry I got angry with you, I know you couldn't help—"
"Enough!"
The pair of Aurors restraining Narcissa lifted her from the ground in their effort to pull her backward, and she let out a frustrated cry, her feet seeking the floor unsuccessfully as they dragged her in the opposite direction their counterparts had begun to drag Lucius.
"I love you!" she shouted, and when she heard the words echo back across the space between them, she stopped resisting her captors and began to sob.
She was escorted back to the entrance, the Aurors continuing to glare at her as they stopped walking.
"Can we trust you not to cause any more disruptions?"
"Yes," she snapped. "Let go of me."
She sniffed as they did so, torn between regretting allowing herself such a show of emotion in front of these people and regretting not moving for her wand while she'd had the chance. Narcissa had never been a violent woman. Unlike her husband and her sister, she'd always preferred to solve her problems with words instead of with curses, but words, it seemed, would get her nowhere, now.
"Your transportation is outside," said one of the Aurors, glancing pointedly to the doors behind where Narcissa stood. "I'd suggest leaving quickly; the storm's supposed to get worse."
She sighed heavily and turned away, pushing open the doors and stepping out onto the dock as she raised her hood to shield her face from the rain that had begun to pelt the surrounding area while she'd been inside. She climbed into the boat she'd used to reach the prison and cast a final glance up at the walls separating her from her husband, mentally cursing each and every person responsible for what she felt was an incredible injustice.
Holding tight to the edge of the boat with one hand, Narcissa raised her wand with the other and flicked her wrist, and the boat began its course toward the shore. As a wave of nausea rolled over her, Narcissa closed her eyes, telling herself it was only seasickness. She didn't imagine she could endure another complication.
