How I managed to get this chapter done alongside no less than 3 essays is a mystery to me. I hope you enjoy this and that my writing has not been compromised by my immense work overload!
-25- First Conscience
Lucius veered unsteadily through the crowded street, ignoring the yells as he crashed into people and pushed them unceremoniously aside. He was very drunk, but one thought blazed in his misfiring brain, pushing through the haze of alcohol. I love Narcissa. He saw all the signs he had missed. He couldn't look her in the eye anymore. It made him feel sick, but not with loathing, with guilt. A typical proud Malfoy, he had thought he was immune to the feeling, and he had not recognised it for what it was, mistaking it for disgust, hatred, feelings with which he was all too familiar.
He should have been there. He should have realised what the stupid riddle meant sooner. He was wrong ever to let her put herself in such danger. It was all his fault for not protecting her as he should have done. He didn't know what he had been thinking or feeling the past few months. If he told himself that she was a child, a weak idiot, somebody not worthy of him, he could stop feeling the hurt and sorrow at the loss of their child, a child he wanted so badly he could yell and beat his fists against the damp concrete of the pavement until his knuckles bled. If he could convince himself that he hated her, that their love was hollow and fake, he would not put himself at the risk of being hurt so badly, or blame himself for letting it die. If it was meaningless, he could not get hurt, and he could not hurt somebody he loved.
And Narcissa, how could he have been so blind? She may have smiled and made light conversation as usual, but he knew what had been missing, aside from his own screaming pit of despair which sat opposite her in a permanent grimace. Her own spirit had not been in it. She had kept it inside, the grieving she had felt for her lost child, trying to make it right with her husband, trying to move on and not to break down like she had over her father's death. But it had been a front. That was what had been wrong. Narcissa had not sat opposite him every day for the past months trying to coax a response from a stubborn, stupid man. A shell of his pretty, lively wife had sat there.
Where had he been when she had needed him? She had been right, he was acting like a child, blaming her to avoid blaming himself or facing the truth, spurning every advance she had made to try and help him. The thought of her, bare and pale and determined, no wonder it haunted him so. I love Narcissa. The dawning of the thought was a revelation akin to enlightenment to Lucius at this moment. All he could think of was to get home to her and tell her that everything would be all right.
Unfortunately, life does not work out this way, especially when you are so inebriated you can barely stand. As Narcissa was wiping her streaming eyes, curled up on the floor of their capacious bathroom, trying not to feel the sting of her husband's harsh words on top of her own pain, she was unaware that Lucius was even now lurching urgently homeward to make things right again. The first thing she knew about it was a crash outside as Lucius cannoned into the loveseat in their courtyard, his limbs tangling with the twining honeysuckle arching over it. Too dizzy to get up, he remained there, confused and disoriented, until Narcissa, wand in her hand, a silk dressing gown around her, approached the scene to see what the racket had been.
She saw Lucius, obviously drunk, nose bleeding and wrist at an odd angle, wrapped in splintered wood and vines, legs elevated above his head. His eyes were open but bleary, trying to focus on a face. She breathed in slowly, deeply, trying not to feel the pain that was coursing through her at her husband's state. She did not know what his purpose was, thinking that he was simply blind drunk and as stubbornly blind to his and her emotions as ever.
Lucius saw very little. His vision was blurred, and the pain and discomfort he would usually have felt was numb and distant. He could make out a blonde halo around a pale face, and a green blur by his head. Was it her? Or was he imagining things?
"Oh, Lucius," Narcissa murmured sadly above him, shaking her head at his foolish response to their problems, wondering if they would ever be able to make it work with him behaving like this. To him, her voice was distorted and fuzzy, but he recognised the tone. It must be her.
"Narcissa," he managed to enunciate, his voice hoarse but audible. "Love you, Cissy. All m'fault." His voice tailed off with the effort of forming a sentence, and his eyes rolled back into his head as he lost consciousness from a combination of excess strong alcohol and prolonged upside-down-ness. His long, eloquent speeches of remorse would have to wait until tomorrow.
In the mean time, Narcissa had caught his words, felt the betraying surge of hope in the pit of her stomach, but did not want to put too much on the drunken ravings of her husband, and switched into pragmatic-mode, levitating Lucius and cutting his self-inflicted bonds, getting him into the house and to bed before he could wreak any more damage on the furniture, himself or her damaged, sorrowful heart.
-
Lucius awoke the next morning with a pounding headache and little memory of the previous night past the point of storming out of the house after a row with Narcissa. That he remembered with perfect clarity. All that was left of the previous night was a vague recollection of an epiphany and the scent of honeysuckle. He groaned, and this groan woke the person beside him, who shifted. He focused his pain-narrowed eyes on the moving form, and recognised Narcissa's tousled blonde hair. She was lying next to him, on top of the covers, wrapped in his green silk dressing gown. A few trickles of the night before came back to him.
"Was I in the garden?" He croaked, surprised at his dry, raspy throat.
"Among other things," said Narcissa dryly. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I've been steamrollered," groaned Lucius. "Whatever I did last night was so not worth this."
"Whatever did you do last night?" asked Narcissa softly, her voice cautious and speculative rather than teasing.
"I don't really remember," admitted Lucius. "All I remember is that I met a very beautiful woman." Narcissa flinched. So he had not meant what he said last night, and he was returned merely to rub it in her face that he had met someone else.
"She was gorgeous, intelligent, and a far better person than I am," Lucius continued, rubbing at his temples. "I think I behaved quite badly towards her, and I don't think I can even entirely blame my drinking for it. I might owe that woman an apology." He looked sheepishly at Narcissa, whose mouth was set in a firm line, but whose eyes looked a little brighter than they had for a while, catching on to her husband's convoluted and incredibly careful apology; he was trying to win her over without actually having to apologise or admit he was wrong. She would not let him get away quite so easily, although she had forgiven him in her heart the second his bloodshot, anxious eyes had darted hopefully to her face in a way she thought she might never see again.
"And are you going to give her one?" she asked seriously, playing along with Lucius' third person speech.
"As a rule, I don't apologise," Lucius said groggily. "But this time I think I have to make an exception. This woman is worth it, and she's put up with a lot of my crap when I should have been there for her. Do you think if I was very dashing and eloquent she might accept my apology?"
"Well, Luke, you might want to work on the dashing part before you attempt it. You look like shit and you smell worse," Narcissa said, a genuine note of amusement in her voice. She withstood exactly three seconds of Lucius' crestfallen face before deciding that it would be impossible not to relent to his charm, despite everything. "I think she might accept your apology anyway, though, because if I know anything then I know she's so in love with you she can't think straight."
"I guessed as much," Lucius said, arrogance vying with relief in his rough voice. "Who could resist me?"
"For some reason, not me," Narcissa laughed. "But please do me a favour and go take a shower?"
"Only if you come with me," Lucius growled playfully. "We have time to make up for."
A headache cure, a lot of bubbles and a very long shower later, Narcissa was sitting in Lucius' lap, and they were talking in low, semi-serious voices, finally getting their true emotions out in the air after months of letting them stagnate, and in Lucius' case, curdle bitterly with each other until they ended up in such a skew that only a drunken epiphany could set them straight.
"I never like to admit I'm wrong," Lucius murmured to Narcissa. "But I was. I never really blamed you for what happened, I was just so angry with myself for letting it, for not knowing or stopping you, not taking proper care of you, that I got confused and guilty, and got angry at you for making me feel that way. I was too messed up to realise how much you must be hurting and how much worse I was making it."
"It hurt a lot, what you said to me yesterday," Narcissa confessed softly. "I knew there was a darkness in you, Lucius, ever since I talked to my sister, and even before that, I think, but I never imagined you would treat me like that, not ever."
"It's not any excuse, but I was already half drunk and incredibly screwed up," Lucius said. "I would never intentionally hurt you, Cissy, and I never should have doubted our love."
"Don't be a sap," Narcissa admonished playfully. "I accept that sometimes you will lose control and make a mess, it's human, especially after all we've been through. I was naive to think anything else, you were right about that. And I was to blame for doing something so dangerous, but I wanted to prove I was not a child, and to prove I was just as committed to the Dark Lord as to you and our family. It was stupid."
"It's a price we have to pay, pet, to put the cause first sometimes," Lucius said gently. "You just have to pick the times and not let it tear our family to pieces. I won't ever let go again."
"You're still being a sa-" Narcissa began playfully, but was cut off as a pain in her wrist distracted her. Her dark mark was burning black; their master was calling. "Time to prove our loyalties, I think," she said wryly to her husband. "The other duty calls."
"I love you," Lucius told her urgently. Narcissa stroked one hand across his cheek, and lowered her mouth briefly to his.
"As do I," she returned. "Now let's go."
They arrived hand in hand to kneel before the Dark Lord. The scene was unusual, all of the Death Eaters, twenty of thirty gathered together, with one standing by the side of the Dark Lord. He was masked and hooded, but Lucius recognised the slender form and slightly hostile, twitchy pose of Severus Snape. There was an atmosphere of excitement and tension in the air, which the Dark Lord cut through in his cold voice when the last few Death Eaters arrived.
"I have received important news from one of my faithful followers, news which could secure my power permanently," he announced. "Last night at the Hog's Head Severus witnessed a prophecy which detailed the birth of one who could have the power to defeat me." Several gasps and murmurs could be heard, before the glare of Voldemort reinstated silence.
"The child of parents who have thrice defied me," he sneered. "Supposedly has this power, and will be born at the end of next July. We must be vigilant of this, keep track of any couples who are expecting children and who oppose our cause so that I may eliminate them before they have a chance to give birth to the child. Once this is achieved, I will be invulnerable. I wish for you to keep a close eye on the situation, all of you."
"Yes, my lord," the group murmured together.
"You are dismissed," Voldemort said abruptly, and disapparated. Startled at this quick dismissal, the Death Eaters formed groups to discuss this development. Lucius felt a little uneasy as Severus swaggered up to him.
"The Dark Lord will reward me well for my devotion, Lucius," he sneered. "And to think, you were drinking yourself into a stupor while I was gaining the key to glory." Lucius started forward, his face twisting into an angry snarl. He stopped when Narcissa put a calming hand on his arm, shaking her head softly. Snape spat on the floor, sneer on his lips.
" Love, indeed. Is this what has you so fettered, Lucius? You should know better. Love is never worth it when there is power to be had." He sauntered off cockily, leaving Lucius fuming. Narcissa linked her arm through his, and gave it a quick squeeze. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down.
"Come, love," Narcissa said softly to her husband. They made a swift exit, and as soon as they were safe indoors, Lucius tore off his mask and threw it across the room.
"Insufferable git," he bellowed. "He would betray a young family, condone the murder of a child, a wizarding child, so that he may boast of rising in the Dark Lord's favour."
"I know, love. Leave him to his own conscience," Narcissa soothed.
"It won't be on my head," Lucius growled. "I will murder traitors who try to kill us with a song in my heart, even muggles, gladly, if that's what it takes for us to take power. But an innocent child of wizarding blood? I'm not sure I can. Especially now."
"I know," said Narcissa again. "And that's why I love you, Lucius. You have ambition, but it is tempered with justice. I promise we won't be a part of this."
"We lost a child, Narcissa," Lucius said agitatedly. "I don't think I could do that to someone, even an enemy of the Dark Lord. If the child grow up and faces him fairly, does anything to harm us or ours, then yes, I will eliminate him, but an innocent child. It's defenceless." He broke off in disgust.
"If it came to a choice?" Narcissa asked gently.
"Same as before," Lucius got out. "It would come down to what I could live with. I can't live without you, Cissy, nor can I live with innocent blood on my hands."
"Your conscience will put you in danger," warned Narcissa. "As will mine. But I'm still glad you have it. It makes our love more powerful than anything in this world."
"I used to be him, Cissy," Lucius confessed. "I used to think nothing could touch me, that power was the only thing. I never thought that one day I would put love first."
"Now you know better," Narcissa said gently. "And I vow that it will make us stronger, not weak. One day Severus Snape will eat his words."
As they held each other, the only solid, certain thing they had, they knew that life had become just a little more complicated for them. Whatever narcissi said, the fear of losing their power to their love crept up on them. Once again, personal life sorted, their duty had become a burden too heavy to bear.
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