Friday, 3 August 1973
"You look awful," Rodolphus announced brightly as Lucius was shown into the library by a quaking elf. "And you're early. Bash is still getting ready, or maybe sulking in his room; I warned him you were the only one permitted to get embarrassingly drunk tonight since it's your stag night."
"I don't think it's possible to get drunk enough to forget this disaster of a day," he growled, but accepted a glass of scotch nonetheless. Rodophus chuckled and gestured that he should sit.
"Your father?" he guessed.
"He won't leave the bloody Manor!" Lucius exploded at once. "He expects me to keep living in the London house after the wedding. What is the point of getting married if he won't leave the damned country, as he should have done when I came of age?"
"Gods, could you relax? You're nineteen, you have time," drawled Rodolphus, not bothering to hide a smirk. "Or if it's really a problem, just kill him."
Lucius shot him a sharp look, but quickly changed the subject. "I'm going to New York next month to see a few properties. You said to let you know next time I go to the States; it will be sometime in mid-September."
"I'll see if Bella is busy, or has any issue with me leaving the country for a few days," he replied airily, causing Lucius to glower.
"You need her permission?" he questioned derisively; Rodolphus just laughed.
"You'll find out soon enough for yourself that it makes things much easier. Besides, I don't think she's forgotten what happened in Monte Carlo yet."
Lucius rolled his eyes. "It was just a small flat."
"Yes but it was her flat. In Monaco-Ville, and it's irreparable and now we've both been banned from the neighborhood."
"Well, we'd be staying in my property on the Upper East Side. Very little risk to her, no matter what... diversions we find taking place there."
"Beautiful sins, like beautiful things, are the privilege of the rich," Roldolphus grinned darkly, inclining his glass in a toast. Lucius thought his friend was quoting something, but couldn't be bothered to find out what. "And will you bring Cissy?" he added as an afterthought.
Lucius scoffed and took a sip. "Hardly. She's—" But whatever he'd planned to say about his almost-wife was interrupted by the arrival of Rabastan into the room, followed by Evan Rosier. Sinclair Crabbe, Walden McNair, and Augustus Rookwood appeared next, then Britt Parkinson and Idris Shafiq; Corban Yaxley and Antonin Dolohov were the last to arrive.
Once they'd all been handed drinks and cigars, they naturally fell into smaller groups playing a game similar to euchre, wherein two men formed a team to play each hand against another pair. Rodolphus was sitting across from Britt and they were losing badly to Lucius and Evan. The game was in part luck, but where it was possible to advance through skill Britt was utterly useless, and Rodolphus's expression grew more thunderous with each trick that Lucius or Evan took. They were playing for money but it was a negligible amount; his frustration stemmed from the embarrassment of failure, hand after hand. Britt's careless attitude towards the game did not help the matter; he met each loss with a sheepish half-smile and helpless shrug. At last Rodolphus tossed his cards down, threw back the rest of his drink, and snarled loudly enough to be heard over the low, easy rumble of conversation in the room, "I heard you're sleeping with a schoolgirl Parkinson, is that true?"
Britt's handsome face went pale for a moment and then blotched red. "'Course it's not true," he mumbled, showing previously-unseen attention to the cards in his hand.
"No? Just babysitting her in Hogsmeade then? Thomas and William MacDougal's little sister, isn't she?" he pressed on, cruelly satisfied with the other man's obvious discomfort.
"It isn't like that, and she's of age," Britt muttered, glancing over at Lucius for assistance. "She's good friends with Cissy, I'm sure you know."
Lucius had no idea who Narcissa might be friends with, but nodded once as though in agreement. This exchange, however, had the unfortunate effect of turning the current of Rodolphus's spite toward a new target.
"Ah, Cissy, of course." He regarded Lucius with a glittering malice, his cheeks momentarily pulled concave as he sucked in smoke from his cigar. "Your blushing bride. You know, Narcissa is probably the most beautiful woman I've ever met that I've absolutely no desire to fuck. Tell us Lucius, is she as frigid as she seems?"
Evan, who had been midway through a gulp of wine, choked on a laugh at the blunt statement, setting down his drink and coughing for several seconds before managing to regain his composure. "Do tell us," he encouraged, once he'd found his voice. "She was almost arranged to be my wife so it will be good to know if I've dodged a Killing Curse here. She's the very mirror of Aunt Druella's virtuousness, but with all the traditional Black superciliousness. Best of luck to you."
Rabastan leaned over to join the conversation as well. "Ghada told me Cissy's never dated anyone. Probably hasn't been kissed, even."
With a snort, Rodolphus poured himself another deep measure of cognac. "Nothing quite like making a virgin cry, is there?" he asked, his gaze shining with brutal pleasure as though lost in the reminiscence of untried, perhaps unwilling young women pinned beneath him with tears streaming down their temples and into their hair as he forced himself inside. "And you won't even have to Silence her screams." As he'd undoubtedly done before. While some of the other men glanced about uncomfortably, Rabastan merely looked annoyed at his brother's words.
"Oh, shove off Rod; Bellatrix probably makes you cry in bed."
Rodolphus cuffed Rabastan ungently on the back of his head for the remark but simultaneously gave a crack of laughter. "She is savage," he confirmed, rubbing his close-trimmed beard ruefully. "Perhaps Cissy will turn out to have some of the same fire and surprise you, Malfoy."
Lucius had grown very still. With careful movements he stacked his hand and laid it neatly down before him on the table. "I'm quite tired of cards. What else did you have planned for the evening?" His tone left no doubt that this topic of conversation was closed to any further discussion.
Rodolphus's grin widened, the viciousness not evaporating from his gaze but changing form. "Thought we'd go down to town. A little Muggle hamlet that's far too quiet most nights."
Saturday, 4 August 1973
Druella carefully adjusted the gossamer veil around her daughter's shoulders and stepped back to critically inspect the overall effect. Narcissa waited with a serious expression, her chin lofted in anticipation of the verdict, and when she saw that her mother's eyes shone she extended her hand with a smile.
"Maman, don't cry!" she pleaded laughingly, and Druella laughed abashedly as well, swiping at her cheek and then squeezing Narcissa's fingers briefly.
"Oh, ma fille. My darling girl. You look so lovely. I can't believe you're already getting married. It seems just yesterday I was watching my girls playing in the garden…" Druella shook her head and moved over to the table that displayed the bouquets, adjusting a blossom here and there and no longer looking at her youngest. "And… for tonight, tu es nerveuse? Intimidé?" she asked in a suddenly strained tone, slipping into French as she always did when dealing with any difficult or emotional topic and studying the blooms with unwarranted attention.
Narcissa pressed her lips together into a thin line. In truth she was, but felt compelled to assure her, "Non, Maman."
Druella gave a sad smile to the peonies, evidently hearing the lie in Narcissa's tone. "Darling girl. I can only speak from my own singular point of view on the matter but… I think it is something that should not frighten you. It is something… that can bring much joy in a marriage." However, she was well aware that her own nuit de noces would not mirror her daughter's; Cygnus had been very young, more inexperienced than even Druella herself, and absolutely desperate to please her. She knew the Malfoy boy was none of these things but hoped he would still be kind to her most beloved and fragile child. He had not, after all, been Druella's first choice in a partner for Narcissa, but she refused to let her own bias cloud her apprehensive daughter's heart. Bellatrix entered at that moment, looking distracted.
"Mother, the photographer from the Prophet is searching for you," she announced, and waited for Druella to leave before producing a bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes with a mischievous grin. "Poor deluded maman," she sighed, flinging herself onto a settee and opening the bottle with a tap of her wand and a loud pop. "Thinking you're still a virgin after all these months of being courted by Lucius Malfoy." Clearly she'd been listening to the conversation for several minutes.
Narcissa blushed and turned to the mirror once more, but not quickly enough. Thinking the visible embarrassment a confirmation of her assumption, Bellatrix gave a very witch-like cackle and filled the glasses, levitating one across the room to her sister and taking a long swig of her own. "I don't want it," Narcissa protested quickly, stepping aside but unable to dodge the hovering beverage that followed her doggedly around the room. "I can't possibly think of having any alcohol before saying the Bonds in front of so many people. What if were to slur my words? What if Lucius could smell that I'd been drinking?"
"It's just a bit of champagne, you needn't lose your head," Bellatrix yawned but relented, tossing her own emptied glass aside and starting on the second. "And Lucius wouldn't be able to tell the difference between the alcohol on your breath and his own. I'd bet a thousand galleons he's been drunk since noon yesterday. What are you so nervous about anyway? Your gown is sensational and you love showing off for a crowd."
"It's not the crowd I'm concerned about," Narcissa hissed in an undertone. She wished she could find even a small fault with her hair or robes to have the distraction of fixing it, but she looked perfect and so could do nothing but stand in the middle of the room feeling helpless. Bellatrix frowned and sat up slowly.
"What's Malfoy done to make you so nervous, then?"
"He hasn't!" protested Narcissa quickly. "He hasn't done anything!" With this statement she appeared to deflate. "He hasn't done anything, Bella," she repeated forlornly. "Mother and Mrs. Malfoy were there every time we went to the Manor, and I've hardly seen him since the engagement. Yesterday was the first time they left us alone together and he… well, he didn't seem very…" What could she tell Bellatrix that would not provoke her into causing a scene? If Lucius had dared to utter half of what he'd said yesterday in front of the eldest Black daughter, Narcissa was certain he would not have lived to see his wedding day. "He didn't seem very interested in the prospect of matrimony."
Bellatrix waved this concern aside, sinking back down onto the cushions. "Of course he isn't, he's a man."
"Rodolphus couldn't wait to marry you," Narcissa reminded her softly, staring down at her hands. Bellatrix brushed this off as well.
"Don't flatter my husband by making him out to be some sort of romantic. Rodolphus is a hedonist and there aren't many people in the world, let alone women, who can tolerate his gratuitous appetites. It just so happens that I am one of those few and he recognized early on that he was not likely to find another Pureblooded woman who could stand being his wife. I wouldn't wish him on you for the world, Cissy." Her tone was blasé, and she took another sip of champagne. "I don't know that you'll be happy with Malfoy," she added bluntly, "but I'm certain you don't want Roddy. Nor do you want anyone remotely like him."
The words were of little comfort, although she knew her sister was right. With a pang, she felt sure that Andromeda would know what to say, but the moment of sorrow quickly soured into anger. It was Andromeda's fault that her parents had rushed her into this wedding. If Andromeda hadn't run off, there would have been no hasty courtship, she could have taken the time to get to know Lucius better—
"Wait, so does that mean you are still a virgin?" Bellatrix laughed in disbelief at the realization. "Gods, of course Lucius Malfoy of all people would somehow end up with a perfect Pureblood virgin bride. Oh Cissy, I don't know what Mother's been saying but—"
"I did share a dorm with half a dozen other girls for seven years, you know!" she huffed. Few of whom had made it out of school with hymens intact. "I'm not entirely ignorant, thank you." A few girls she knew well had even been with her almost-husband. From what she recalled, the reviews had been unanimously positive.
"It's not like what you've read in your ridiculous little romance novels— oh yes, I know all about those," Bellatrix smirked at Narcissa's scowl. "Even the Muggle trash you keep hidden," she added, though her smug smile vanished at this statement. "You'd better not try to sneak any of that into the Manor, by the way; Lucius would be even less tolerant than Mother if he had any inkling you read such garbage."
Narcissa had flushed a deep pink, and turned away from her sister in hurt humiliation. "Of course I won't," she mumbled, thinking anxiously of the non-magical authors she'd thought to be safely hidden in the false bottom of her wardrobe— D.H Lawrence, Jane Austen, Margaret Mitchell, the Bronte sisters, Tolstoy, to name only a few… The Wizarding world had long been a small and insular community, cut off from much literature and art after 1692. Voracious reader as she was, she'd consumed all the Wizarding classics at an early age, and had been sneaking Muggle literature for years. If she simply pretended the characters were underaged to explain their inability to use magic, there was hardly any difference. "Why were you going through my things?" she snapped, suddenly aware that Bellatrix could only have found the collection through thorough and illicit investigation. Bella shrugged carelessly.
"I was bored and you weren't at home so I thought I'd have a look around. But the point I'm trying to make—" she raised her voice over Narcissa's indignant protestations— "is that you're only setting yourself up for misery if you try to make Malfoy into some hero from one of your silly books. You'll make yourself sick if you spend your days hoping for romance and affection from him."
"Then what can I hope for?" she demanded, praying she sounded less desperate than her sister's words made her feel. Bellatrix shrugged again and refilled the flute of champagne. Half the bottle was gone.
"Everything else. Gold, power, prestige— things certainly worth having, I assure you."
"Passion?" she whispered, naming intangibles that she knew Bellatrix had not had to sacrifice in marrying a man who ostensibly did not love her. "Devotion?"
"Maybe," Bellatrix conceded, her features softening for a moment into pity. "I don't know, Cissy. Malfoy isn't like Roddy. He's certainly got a reputation for liking women, collectively, but apart from that he's… cold. I don't know if he'll be faithful to you. Honestly, I rather doubt it. But as his wife you'll be more valuable to him than any other woman in the world— doubly so once you have his heir, I imagine. And he takes very good care of the things that are his. If I thought he'd ever lay a hand on you in violence," color flared in her sister's face, "I'd kill him before this wedding could take place."
"Thanks Bella," she replied thickly, knowing the threat was not hollow coming from her sister. However it was of little comfort to be assured that the man she'd hoped might give her love could instead merely be counted on to cause her no physical harm.
"Oh, don't look so glum," Bellatrix sighed, rising to embrace her briefly but firmly. "You'll have all the pretty gowns you could ever want and you'll be so much richer than all your friends, and soon you'll have a baby… I know how important that is to you," she added in a tone that clearly conveyed it was not a shared interest. "And besides," she went on, turning Narcissa by the shoulders so they stood side by side in the full length mirror. "Look at you, you're flawless. If Malfoy can love anyone apart from his own vain self, there's no reason why it shouldn't be you."
Tuesday, 17 October 1978
It was well past ten in the evening and Narcissa had just retired for the night when an elf appeared before her to let her know she had a caller. Upon hearing that the visitor was in fact Madame Lestrange, she had to fight the perverse desire to tell Dobby to send her sister away and enjoy the mental picture of the elf attempting to banish her sister from the Manor while she stayed in the comfort of bed. Instead Narcissa slipped from bed and decided on a light silk housecoat and told it to show Bellatrix to her study and get her a drink. If she waited long enough, perhaps some wine would soften her sister's jagged edges and make her more pleasant to deal with.
"Cissy," Bellatrix rose to her feet at once when Narcissa entered the room, eyes darting and hair wild. Narcissa took a bracing breath and poured herself a very full goblet of Anjou Rouge.
"Bella. What brings you to Wiltshire on this lovely evening?" A deep roll of thunder punctuated her words, and rain lashed mercilessly upon the window. Bellatrix sneered at her sarcastic tone and opened her mouth to reply, but before she could speak the door to the study crashed open and Rodolphus strode in, dripping wet and looking highly annoyed.
"I told you I would handle this!" Bellatrix snapped at once. Narcissa drew her sheer robe more securely around herself, wishing that she'd bothered to dress after all. "She's not going to tell you anything!"
Rodolphus shook his dark, wet hair out of his eyes and threw off his sodden cloak. "And I told you that I should be here too to convey the gravity of the situation!" he shot back, before turning to Narcissa and grasping her shoulders with his large hands. "Listen, Cissy—"
"Don't touch me!" she hissed, trying and failing to jerk out of his hold.
"Roddy," Bellatrix warned, and with an impatient glance at his wife Rodolphus let her go.
"Narcissa," he went on quickly, "you must tell us where Lucius is."
"I hardly think my husband's whereabouts are any of your concern," she replied acidly, drawing her wand to dry the spots he'd left on her dressing gown. At the sight, however, the Lestranges tensed, and Rodolphus went as far as to reach for his own.
"Really!" Narcissa exclaimed, incensed, at the same moment that Bellatrix shrieked at him to put it away at once. He obeyed grudgingly and sat down before the hearth uninvited, stretching his hands towards the flames. "Now, what exactly is going on here?" Narcissa continued archly.
"If you know where he is, you need to tell us," Bellatrix pressed evasively. Narcissa gave a haughty sniff and took a sip of wine.
"I don't think I need to do any such thing without an explanation," she retorted.
"Cissy!" she exhaled sharply, her hands balling into fists. "This is not the time to be coy, it could very well be a matter of life or death."
At these words, a small flicker of concern clouded her blue eyes at last. "Whose life?"
"His! Yours! All of ours if it turns out that he's..." Bellatrix stopped and cast a desperate look towards her husband. Rodolphus shook his head slowly, expression grave.
"She doesn't know either." He rose suddenly, slamming his fist down on the mantle and causing its adornments to clatter and Narcissa to jump. "Fuck!"
Bellatrix looked stricken. "Is that true?" she demanded, and when Narcissa nodded, wide-eyed, it looked as though she might break something as well. "When was the last time you saw him?"
Narcissa cast her gaze away guilty. "It was... late August. Over a month ago."
Rodolphus swore loudly again. "I don't know what could have happened," Bellatrix muttered, raking her long nails through her gnarled black hair. "I mean, I've never much liked him, but never would have believed that Lucius Malfoy would turn out to be a blood traitor—"
"Wait!" Narcissa cried. "What are you talking about?"
"The Dark Lord summoned him three days ago and hasn't heard word. He has ways to make his displeasure known, even from afar, and he can tell if one of us has been killed... Lucius is alive, somewhere, and from the looks of it has gone into hiding, likely in the protection of the Order of the Phoenix."
Oddly, relief broke out across Narcissa's face at this pronouncement and she reached for her sister in reassurance. "Oh, Bella, it isn't anything like that! I don't know precisely where Lucius is, but I know what he's gone to do. It has nothing to do with the Dark Lord or Dumbledore or anything of the sort."
This time it was Bellatrix who grasped her, and Rodolphus abandoned his post at the fireplace so stand behind her with his arms crossed. "Cissy, this isn't a game!" She shook her once, firmly, and Narcissa's irritation boiled over into her reply.
"I'm not a child for you to bully any longer! Lucius had a matter to deal with beyond the scope of his involvement with the Dark Lord, and it is not one that impacts you or your husband in any way. He does have other commitments and obligations, you surely must understand!"
A sudden soft blow to the back of her knees forced her to sit; Rodolphus had pushed an armchair up behind her and she craned her neck to scowl at them both. "This is becoming ridiculous," Narcissa protested as her sister dropped to her knees before her and clasped her hands— ostensibly a pleading gesture but also serving to hold her firmly in place.
"Cissy, I don't think you understand what a serious matter this is."
"I could make her understand," Rodolphus growled, and for the first time since they'd arrived, Narcissa felt a small shiver of fear. She suppressed it at once, confident that Bellatrix would not allow any harm to come to her. However, Bella bit her lip and flicked her gaze briefly towards him, as though weighing all the options.
"It's my baby sister, I don't want you to hurt her," she announced at last, almost sounding apologetic.
"I—"
"Enough." The word was spoken from the doorway with icy gravitas, and the three turned to see Lucius standing there, his grey eyes crackling with fury. "You two," he pointed at the Lestranges with his wand, "get out of my house." He looked dreadful; his robes were soiled and ragged, hands and face dirty, but his fierce expression did not permit dispute.
"You should be thanking us," Bellatrix hissed, rising slowly to her feet. "For convincing him to let us come talk to Cissy first when he could have come himself, and you know very well how that would have gone! She's your wife, Malfoy, you're meant to keep her safe and out of this business. Instead you're off doing Circe-knows-what and ignoring his call, leaving the rest of us to deal with the fallout—"
"I said get out!" Lucius roared, his wand slashing downwards with a sound like the crack of a whip. It had been no more than a warning, no one was actually injured, but Bellatrix raised her wand in a flash and Rodolphus regretfully drew his as well, though it was evident he had no desire to duel with either of them.
"Don't you dare," Narcissa jumped up and swept between her husband and sister, hands held out placatingly but tone firm. "There's no need for this. As you can see, Lucius has returned and so your great question of his whereabouts has vanished. Please leave, it's late and I would like to get some rest. I'll see you both in two weeks time for Samhain."
Bellatrix's black gaze sparkled with malevolence but she would not hold a wand to her sister. "Hiding behind Cissy yet again, just what I'd expect from a man of your merit."
"Declining to engage in pointless destruction of my property is hardly the same as hiding, Bellatrix," he sneered, sheathing his wand. Rodolphus pocketed his as well but Bellatrix lowered hers only slightly.
"Where were you?" she demanded, "if not sheltering with the Order?"
"There is a whole wide world beyond Dumbledore's battalion of fools and I owe you no explanation for my whereabouts within it." Lucius moved further into the room in agitation, coming to stand by the hearth and resting one hand on the mantlepiece.
"I hope he—"
"I don't care, Bellatrix," he snarled, "what you hope or what you want. I've been very patient thus far but this convesation has ended." He gestured towards the exit, a callous mockery of civility, and Bellatrix jerked her chin at her husband and swept from the room. Rodolphus trailed after her, but paused to clasp Lucius's shoulder and bent his head to whisper something, but Lucius shrugged him off with a fearsome expression.
When the Lestranges were gone at last, they left an echoing silence in their wake. Lucius did not relinquish his position before the fire, and did not turn to face her. When she could bear it no longer, Narcissa asked simply, "Well?"
"The next time you lose a child, you'll know for sure that you have no one to blame but yourself," Lucius spat, still glaring into the flames. He'd meant the words to wound her, and she did feel a hot surge of rage, but it was rapidly replaced by a strange sense of calm and she crossed the room to gently touch his wrist.
When he had sought her out in Blois and she'd told him of Rodolphus and Bella's youthful escapades, her question regarding the motives of a loveless but consuming dedication had not been a hypothetical one. Naturally he had not answered it, but the query had consumed her thoughts of late. When she had set forth her ultimatum, she had not been entirely sure what he would do (aside from the certainty that he would not permit her bear another man's child to be raised as the Malfoy heir). He had left almost immediately afterwards without a word, and for a brief time she wondered if he was arranging his affairs to oust her from the Manor and take back his name. However no owl appeared, and he did not materialize as the days became weeks, and she knew in her bones that he had taken the third option. And if he would do this at her behest, there was nothing that he would deny her. She had once known love; a beautiful, gentle thing. It had not been like this: there'd been no battles for the upper hand, no scores kept, and caring was not repaid with pain and insults. But this was something like power, and at last its balance had shifted in her favor.
He looked agonized, but she saw no trace of guilt or remorse. He knew she had won, had to know it, and perhaps now he feared that she would use her unequivocal dominance to make him suffer. But Narcissa was not a sadist—it was only because he knew so little of her nature that he could not be sure she would not torture him. Despite his concerns, and the shallow pleasure she would feel in bringing them to actualization, she felt they'd both suffered enough, and would likely suffer more without her abusing his anguished devotion. Besides, she was not yet confident that her hold over him was not more tenuous than Bellatrix's over her own husband, and it would be a terrible power to risk losing over petty whims.
"Things can't go on like this, Narcissa," he whispered, his voice strained.
"I know," she murmured, stretching to press her lips to his. He seemed briefly startled but kissed her back at once, his hands curling around her waist and pulling her against his chest, accepting this as his due for what he had done for her. A dark excitement hummed through her, both at the confirmation of her new-found influence, and the knowledge that, if her theory was correct, there should now be nothing standing between her and child at long last. Her fingers skated over his shoulders and knotted in his hair, dragging their bodies closer, and she felt his begin to respond...
"I have to go," he pulled back abruptly, and she blinked in confusion.
"But you've only just returned. Where—" But then she recalled the Lestranges' dire warnings. "Will the Dark Lord still be angry even once he understands you haven't betrayed him?"
"Yes," Lucius answered shortly, raising his wand to summon a clean cloak and gloves. "Our domestic affairs will not spark his interest nor move him to pity, and I have nothing to show for my unexplained absence that will win his favor."
She noticed for the first time that he was limping very slightly. "But you claim to fight for a Pureblood cause. Perhaps, then, he will understand the motives of your absence."
He shot her a thoughtful look as he discarded his damaged outwear and donned the new. "Perhaps," he agreed, "but you shouldn't wait up."