My beloved Lucius,
What has happened to us, my darling? When did this infernal gap between us grow so deep that you would leave without even a note on my bedside table? I still remember the days when you would wake me for a last kiss, so tragic and sweet I still feel each and every one burning on my lips. There was a time when you told me you were leaving days in advance, gave me time to adjust to the idea of your absence, to lavish you until the minute you left the door. But those days have gone far beyond our reach haven't they, dearest? Gone are the days when even the worst of fights could be settled between the sheets. Lost is the time where you took strength from me, instead of viewing me as the single weakness in your scheme.
Everything between us has drowned in a deadly silence; denial laced with civility and above all that damned sense of decorum. I can barely believe the spectacle we've become, our façade seeping into our very core and taking control. Even you have come to see me as the ideal accessory; a shining gem to show off on social occasions and to discard into the corner of forgetfulness once its role is fulfilled. I feel like the furniture in this cold manor, Lucius, unacknowledged until it's broken...
And even then, all I can get out of you is a brief flash of lightning in your eyes, the sight of your retreating back and vicious recriminations on parchment. Intolerant, impatient, melodramatic, weak, unstable, cold; how the accusations fly! I, cold to you, Mr. Malfoy? I, who have crashed and burned countless times trying to break through that layer of ice? A layer that, might I add, has only thickened with the return of that v- of that man! His Lordship has a way of bringing out the very worst in you, Lucius, and deny it as you might, we both know that is the truth. As the mark on your arm burned anew you were coated by layer of ice and venom that would make a basilisk proud. His return alone was enough for your permanent and immediate conversion to that man of stone he so favours.
Perhaps if I had reacted differently on the night of his return you might not have shut me out so completely, but I simply could not stand your euphoria. The mark burned and you acted as if possessed. The same conviction burned through you as it did all those years ago and you overlooked something which to this day you have still not seen: we have aged, Lucius, and changed. We could not be the same driven youngsters we once were even if we wanted to. Our priorities have changed by now, or rather, they ought to have. You thought as far as to "protect" me, ordering me to stay home, but your task as Head of Family ranged somewhat further than that, and you ignored that blatant fact. You are right when you say I may never forgive you for what you did to this family, to my son, because we ought to have been more important to you than your cold, heartless Master. I warned you that night that he would let things escalate beyond any control and I begged you to keep Draco out of danger. I begged, Lucius, and you found my pleas for your own son's safety fit to be scoffed at. But what you then wrote off as a paranoid delusion now seems like accurate divination, doesn't it? The Dark Lord wrote you off as a mere pawn when you failed to please him, and he let us suffer the repercussions. He turned his back on his most faithful of servants in a surge of anger and destroyed all that was in his reach, including my son's innocence.
For all he means to you, darling, I do not- can not- see your master in the glory that you do. He has great ideals, yes, but a man so destructive can not possibly fight only with a noble intention. True, he wants a pure and powerful wizarding world, but he wants to be at the head of it- almighty and uncontested. I do not see how a man so cold and heartless could lead an entire society rather than his group of fierce warriors. A society is made of families, Lucius, the ones you and every single one of your successful friends have been hiding and neglecting, and I fail to see how the wizarding world will thrive in the world you seek to create. But as your wife I turn to my love and trust in you and hope that you see what I cannot, and that my fears are unfounded. You see, you may see having a heart as a weakness, and you may even be right, but it is what makes us human and it is the only thing that keeps me close to you. If cold, calculating, Slytherin reasoning came into this, my dearest husband, I would have run for the hills by now. So be grateful that I have an ounce of passion left, that Black streak as you call it, and that I am still willing to fight for this marriage.
It is for the sake of this marriage, for instance, that I bow down to your order and turn my sister out of my house. But you have no idea the pain you cause me by ordering me to do so, and you cannot expect me to cease contact with her completely. Bella may have, as you say, been poisoning me, relieving her frustrations through me, but if only for my sake, you shouldn't be so quick to judge her. Bellatrix is cold and harsh, yes, and she holds you in the deepest of contempt, but she is the only one who has never failed to be there for me. Even when my marriage to you seemed to wound and infuriate her, she never ceased to try and see me happy. She saved my son that night, and for that alone you should be willing to overcome all differences... but of what use is arguing when you have made up your mind? Just remember that she is also the only insight I have into the workings of your brain. You two hate each other because you are alike: calculating, ambitious and powerful but fiercely protective of those you love. With Andromeda lost, I am all she has left of a home we once loved, of a protected and happy childhood, and if she is wary of you it is because she will not see me hurt the way she has been in the past. Some say my sister thrives off her hatred for men, and while I do not believe this is so, she would be more than justified if she did. Rodolphus Lestrange was the worst possible match my father could ever have found my sister and he ought to count his blessings that neither she nor I find him worthy enough of our anger to deal with him as we ought to. He resents her talent, her ferocity, and would have had her cooped up in the house had the Dark Lord not sensed her power. And it was the Dark Lord who broke beneath the ice she built up, who kindled a passionate flame, and who broke and twisted her to fit into his scheme. It was her desperate idea to find him, her desperate attempt that landed them in Azkaban, and to have lost His respect after all she did for him is driving her to the edge of despair. But the key difference between the two of you, Lucius, is that she really is torn between her devotion to the Dark Lord and her loyalty to what remains of her family. Rodolphus could die by her side and she wouldn't even flinch, but she saved Draco to see me happy, and I never saw her so absent as she was when Regulus died. I can only imagine that even when she killed treacherous little Sirius grief must have flickered through her eyes, if only for an instant. You wouldn't understand it, but those boys were made of more than treason once, and they form part of memories we both treasure deeply. And treason as this may sound to you, Lucius, I hope upon hope that she never finds Andie, it would destroy them both. Bella, knowing that only a fraction of a doubt would stop her hand, would destroy Andie without a second's hesitation and it would break her. And without that last tie to my kin, Lucius, I would die. So next time you intend to justify your anger by blaming my family, remember you are in debt with me; I have given up what means the most to me to satisfy your whim.
And for the sake of our family I will talk to Draco and try to bridge the gap between you. This I do gladly, I would do it no matter the state of affairs between us. It hurts me to see either of you suffer. But you have to give him time, dearest; you have hurt him more than your father was ever capable of hurting you. From the very moment Draco came into our lives, I have given my all to make this a family; I have never wanted more than to give my son a warm home. And by denying him a childhood, by moulding my little boy to meet your unattainable standards, you have thwarted me every step of the way. Yet he is, as you say, a man now, independent and strong. In his exile, my boy has grown and formed his own life, and circle of allegiances, and he has begun to lay the grounds for a family of his own. To my delight, and unknown to you, he broke off his engagement with Pansy for another girl and he wishes to marry her upon return. But that his greatest desire is to keep it all as far away from you as he can, my darling, should be irrefutable proof of the damage done to our family. What I need from you, then, is to acknowledge and respect the man he has become, for you to treat him as your equal… to treat him the way you seemingly can't be bothered to treat me.
I am not quite sure what it is you, my sister and Draco have come to believe, but I am not starved for protection and comfort. I am not made of glass, nor am I a puppet, a mindless Inferi, under Imperious, and least of all a rag doll to be thrown around! You cannot just pull strings and expect me to dance to a rhythm of your making. Of anyone's making. I am perfectly capable of making up my own mind, making decisions that concern far more than the duties of a perfect hostess. I once stood right next to you in that elite circle of power, Lucius, and I forbid you to forget that. Yes, I forbid! I, Narcissa Malfoy, Mistress of Malfoy Manor, forbid you to keep underestimating me. The tone in your last letter dated from my father's age, Lucius, could have come directly out of his mouth. Clearly you do not even consider me worthy of controlling my own household. You are to be lord of your manor, are you not? King of your castle... But I remind you, Lucius, that Malfoy Manor is my home as well as yours. If I as much as get the whim to lock you out, I am entitled to do so. You forget that, when you married me, we remained equals. You forget that I have the documents you signed to ensure it. Ironic, isn't it? What to me started as mere jest has ended up as the only insurance I have of your respect.
I think that I am nearing despair as well, Lucius, and it is you who is driving me there. I love you more than you can fathom, and I hate the idea of losing you to death or to indifference, but I cannot keep giving and giving and giving without getting anything in return. You worry and you love me, I know, but I can't uphold this relationship by myself, and much less based only on the remnants of an old feeling. I can uphold a façade, be the perfect, docile wife, but unless you remind me why I love you in the first place, I cannot offer you a warm home once behind closed doors. And I want to offer you that, darling, I want to desperately. I want that passion we once had. I want to discuss problems when they arise, not through a letter, two months later. I want to be your companion again, at your side, in everyday life if not in the Death Eater's circle. And I want to laugh with you again, as if we were young and desperately in love. I hope upon hope that it's still possible.
Counting the days to your return,
Narcissa
