Chapter 5: The Owl in Flight

Narcissa's body ached with pain and had the floor not been icy and hard, she wouldn't have bothered moving. As it was, her setting only served to fuel her agony and even though she was bound to feel temporary discomfort, Narcissa knew she would recover more comfortably in her bed.

Wincing audibly, she came to a sitting position and despite the way the room spun on its axis, she recognised it as her wine cellar. She could not be sure if she had come here of her own accord or if this is where she had been brought by the death eaters, but she was fairly confident she was alone and it was a moment of bliss.

When her head pounded suddenly, the moment of bliss had passed and she quickly prepared herself on all fours for the action of vomiting which came all too quickly. Her throat burned with the bile she evacuated from her stomach, which would usually be quite revolting but in the grand scheme of how the night had passed, it rated surprisingly low on the revolting scale. So once she was sure the vomiting had stopped, she simply wiped her mouth and pushed herself carefully from the floor. Her wand was upstairs so cleaning up her mess was far from an option, but rather the least of her worries.

Feeling rather like a child, she couldn't help but let her mind beg for Lucius' embrace. She just wanted a cuddle and to be told that she was safe, that no one could ever hurt her again. It was feeble at the least, to believe that she and her husband could choose to be involved with the Dark Lord but to find themselves unharmed. Lucius was in Azkaban, after all, currently victim to the unrelenting torture of being around a dementor and the unofficial punishments by the prison guards. The Dark Lord didn't live to protect and serve the Malfoy family, and had made it plain that Narcissa's family meant very little to him beyond providing him with a venue for meetings and money when it was required.

A sudden wave of nausea passed over her once more, but this time she fought to contain it. She glanced over at the wall racks filled with the finest of wines as a distraction. 1947 French Cheval-Blanc. Pain searing through her entire body. 1942 Cabernet Sauvignon Ampoule. Wrist being stamped on by heavy boots. 1820 Juglar Cuvee. Dirty hands tight on her throat. 1966 Veuve Clicquot. Vile insults hissed in her ear. Can't breathe. Skull cracking against the wall.

Her knees gave out, finally feeling the brevity of the past half hour's circumstances begin to wash over her. The overwhelming feeling that this should be it consumed her. She expected darkness to overcome her as she hit the ground, and she welcomed it. She was done.

But the feeling of the ground against her tired form never came. Instead, strong arms encircled her and kept her from falling to the ground. She hoped it was her husband, come to save her from the situation he had gotten her into - but the blonde locks she had expected to surround the figure's face were darker. Black.

"Severus," she said hoarsely, trying to come up with some way of explaining to him what had happened that hid the truth. But he only shook his head. He knew and this was no time for explaining.

"Can you walk?" He asked, fully prepared to support her weak frame.

"I'll try," she spoke softly, but he did not remove his hand from the small of her back. His hold on her felt much like he was holding her back from the edge and for that she was grateful. He had swore not to let Draco come to harm, but here he was helping her - a woman he had no real obligation towards beyond protecting her son. Severus was a friend, she reminded herself, a friend from their days at school. There was no ulterior motive here. He only wanted to help.

A wave of pain coursed through her body and she almost fell, but he held her. Tears streamed easily down her cheeks now, but these were silent and she knew Severus was grateful. For it would have only made the situation more uncomfortable if she drew attention to her upset.

"Where's Draco?"

"Gone to sit in the gardens, I believe," Severus replied, helping her up the stairs of the cellar. She winced with every step, but forced herself to take the action.

"Is he okay?"

"Upset," he confirmed, before adding, "Not hurt though, Narcissa. He's safe."

"And where is he? That foul, worthless man."

"Bellatrix is seeing to him, so I doubt he'll try anything like that ever again. I doubt he'll be able to say his own name by the time she's through with him."

Narcissa nodded, focusing on each step she took. She had almost reached the top of the stairs, but the journey had been long and painful - increasingly so with respect to the new pain burning in her side. Though she winced, she did not stop, although she knew someone would have to see to her injuries.

"Severus, I think I need a healer."

She saw him nod, but he kept on guiding her forwards as quickly as she could manage. His eyes darted around, as though afraid he would get caught doing something he shouldn't be. Severus mumbled something about Draco having owled for someone, but having brought some potions of his own he'd like her to have. Once they reached the grand staircase, he went to open his mouth once more, interrupted by the creaking of the heavy library door opening.

Draco opened the door tentatively, then let it widen once he saw his mother and professor were those inhabiting the hall. He wasn't shocked, only relief filled his features as he took in the sight of her. She could imagine the blood marring her face and the bruises beginning to form on her arms, but Draco remained otherwise neutral. Wordlessly, he joined the pair and turned his attention to his professor.

"How can I help?"

Severus gave an indicative nod, "Help me support your mother up the stairs. If you wrap her other arm around you, that will be helpful."

Narcissa couldn't look her son in the eye, but felt his gaze burn in her peripheral vision. Her body shook with pain and anxiety, and the ground was unsteady beneath her feet. Even though she had the support of Draco and Severus on either side of her body, she felt like a house without any solid foundations. She was torn between complete numbness and the inviting prospect of curling into herself once more and letting the tears come as they pleased. As it happened, however, it was neither emotional state her body gave into as the adrenaline wore off, but merely all-consuming exhaustion which won in the end. She hadn't realised just how much pain she was in until the top of the staircase was in view. A relatively short journey by all accounts, but long enough to make her legs tremble in fatigue beneath her weight.

Narcissa stopped suddenly, begging the men to let her rest for only just a moment. But as she turned to say so to Severus, her body crossed the threshold between remaining upright and falling to the ground in a heap, hastily.

Narcissa darted awake on the chaise longue, hardly realising she had fallen asleep in the first place. She found that she had little energy to do much else, much as she frequently enjoyed losing herself in a novel before the war and taking walks in the surrounding area. A heavy cloud of grief had covered the remaining Malfoys and Lucius' confidences that she would be spared conviction were quashed only yesterday, thanks to a visit from some arrogant, half-breed aurors.

Lucius had shaken her awake at an ungodly hour of the morning, pleading with her to get up and to put on some robes. It seemed the couple still had one or two friends in The Ministry, one of whom had warned that their house was to be searched that day and its inhabitants to be placed under house arrest until their trial dates. Most of Lucius' dark artefacts were in the vault at Gringott's and Narcissa's noxious potions had been disguised as perfume bottles, aligned along her vanity and adjacent to lipstick tubes and pots of rouge.

The couple were held tightly by aurors while their home was searched, forced to remain still while crystal shattered and artwork torn from the walls. Skippy had let out a yelp at the sight of the men searching her masters' home, before apparating out with a loud pop. Narcissa couldn't blame her, only wishing she could do the same.

Lucius had tried to fight his captor, but Narcissa was willing to go quietly. While she knew rationally she was not to blame for any of the events of the past year, Narcissa was consumed by overwhelming guilt. She had allowed wizards and half breeds alike to be slaughtered in her home, had stood by and watched as Potter's friend was tortured in her drawing room. Narcissa had been a bystander in her sister's torture when Harry Potter and his friends had escaped and she had played hostess to some of the most evil people in the Wizarding World for all too long. She hadn't put up a fight when Draco was initiated into the Death Eaters, even though she understood that her son was forced into the ranks as her own personal punishment. Perhaps if he hadn't been so engrossed into the Dark Lord's inner circle, he might have been spared such a nasty death.

So Narcissa Malfoy did not resist arrest, only wished they had left her home intact. Draco's room was utterly destroyed, and the couple spent at least 2 hours after the aurors had left their home trying to salvage their son's belongings. The shock of being placed under house arrest and their impending trial only struck them once the house had been cleaned, but even still could she only muster the faintest traces of anxiety over these events. She was devastated over the loss of her son and overcome with fatigue which consumed any energy she had left - self-pity and worry for her family's fate were the last things on her mind.

"What are you thinking about?"

Lucius had appeared in the doorway of their bedroom, dressed in his loungewear and a glass of whisky in hand. To anyone else, his face would have appeared neutral - but Narcissa knew differently. After all these years of marriage, the concern he wore was palpable.

"Nothing," she sighed, pushing herself up to sit. She indicated for him to sit at the end of the lounge chair and grimaced in discomfort. Rolling her head around a little, she felt it click. She was far too old to fall asleep like that.

"You had the dream again last night," he said simply. "I was concerned you'd had it again during your nap. Perhaps you should see a healer."

She couldn't help but roll her eyes, "What's the point? If I'm to end up in Azkaban, my mental health will be the least of my problems."

"You went through something awful, Cissa. There's no shame in asking for help."

"I'm not ashamed," she snapped, immediately softening when she watched his face falter. She reached for his free hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Usually kindness itself, she found her patience quickly deteriorating. She has begun biting Lucius' head off for no reason whatsoever, and she hated herself for it. But being unnecessarily unkind was much easier to stomach than admitting her grief, she realised.

"In honesty, I can't see many healers being willing to work with me," she spoke quietly. "Thanks to our people, much of the Wizarding World lost those they love. Why wouldn't they want me to suffer? I'm sure in their minds, I got exactly what was coming to me."

"It is one of my biggest regrets that I wasn't here to protect you from that... monster," he said, voice thick with emotion. Lucius took a long drink from his glass, fighting to contain the tears from falling from his eyes. Narcissa shuffled towards him and took the glass from his hands, placing it gently on the floor beneath them. She encouraged him to look at her, offering a sad smile in return.

"My darling, never once have I blamed you for that incident. I only wished you could be here to hold me while I recovered. But I don't blame you."

He choked back an uncharacteristic sob and looked away from her, as though ashamed. Although momentarily stunned, she pulled him into her embrace, rubbing his back in an attempt to soothe him. He had been relatively calm since the Battle of Hogwarts, but his emotional armour had finally shattered. He was guilty over all Narcissa had been through, over his son's involvement in the death eaters and he was finally allowing himself to grieve for their son. Such displays of emotion were frowned upon in the upper classes, but Narcissa wouldn't dare judge him for she too felt an intense heartache over their son's death.

Narcissa felt her husband's tears begin to penetrate the fabric of her robes, no longer holding back as he weeped into her shoulder. His hands wrapped around her small waist while her hands stroked his long, blonde hair. Usually shiny and well-kept, his hair had begun developed a lifeless and matted appearance. Her fingers played with the ends of it, gently teasing out the knots which had formed from its neglect.

"How on Earth are you so strong?"

She buried her head into the nape of his neck with a sigh, "Darling, I don't have a choice. My heart is broken with a pain like no other, but it devastates me to see you like this, too. I can cope with what happened to me, but losing Draco and you? That would destroy me."

"You won't lose me," he whispered, tightening his grip on her. "I fear losing you, though."

Pulling out of his embrace, she looked into his eyes pointedly. Ignoring their bloodshot, red appearance, she spoke as kindly as she could manage.

"Why would you lose me?"

"You've taken on the burden of blaming yourself for everything. You refuse to tell me how you're feeling. I know you don't sleep at night and you barely eat. I just worry you're going to waste away to nothing."

She felt her own eyes prick with tears at Lucius' sincerity, "Darling, as long as I have you, I will never allow myself to waste away to nothing-"

"This is my concern," he interrupted, thumbs grazing her cheeks. "What if I end up in Azkaban? What will you do? I doubt you will be convicted and I wouldn't want you to be."

"I don't want to live without you. I won't," Narcissa replied matter-of-factly. "But I suppose if I must, I'd run your enterprises, as you said you wanted me to. And I'd visit you in Azkaban as often as I'm allowed to. I couldn't love anyone else, though you said that is what I should do. I simply can't, darling."

Lucius nodded, seemingly placated by her reply. He gave her a chaste kiss and pushed himself up to stand. Wobbling a little, presumably from the exertion of his tears, he moved over to the bed and sat down heavily. His whisky discarded for the time being, Narcissa was secretly glad. He had a habit of relying on alcohol a little too often, and although she never criticised his coping mechanisms, she couldn't help but to be concerned. Narcissa wasn't much of a drinker, and she didn't like the effects it had when consumed in such large quantities.

Lucius' eyes watched her over heavy lids, his face now darker with fatigue. He seemed ready to rest in bed, but it appeared as though he was fighting the hold of sleep so he could keep an eye on her. While his concern was touching, it was hardly a sentiment she liked and in actual fact, found it to be a little suffocating.

"Perhaps you should try and sleep for a while," she encouraged. For Narcissa, sleep was an opportunity for her mind to relive the past years trauma. For Lucius, sleep brought relief from the troubles the couple were facing and his rests were usually dreamless. Narcissa had experienced no such luxury since the supply of Severus' Dreamless sleep draughts had run out and she couldn't face shopping for the supplies to make the potion herself.

"I think I will," she agreed, settling his body on top of the covers. "What will you do?"

"I'm going to write to Andromeda, I think. I might not get the chance after the trial next week."

Lucius nodded, eyes finally giving in to his exhaustion. It only took a few moments before his chest began rising and falling in a steady rhythm, having quickly fallen into the arms of a deep sleep. She took a moment to watch him resting, not only to make sure he was settled, but because she knew come next week she wasn't likely to have this privilege any longer.

Unlike a lot of couples of similar social standing, Narcissa and Lucius shared a lot of genuine love for one another. Their marriage was not arranged, which was certainly rare, and while she recognised she might have appeared as little more than a trophy wife - the couple had a lot of respect for one another's opinions. In company, she kept her opinions to a minimum and prioritised supporting her husband. When they were alone, she spoke her mind freely and Lucius encouraged her to. Lucius had never intentionally harmed her, arguments were kept to a minimum and in the comfort of their home displays of love and affection were commonplace. Narcissa was incredibly proud that she and Lucius had brought their son up in a home with so much love, and she could only hope this offset some of the distress which housing death eaters would have caused him.

But even watching her husband so peaceful right now sent a feeling of love through her chest, so strong she wanted to weep. She loved him so much that the reality of what lay ahead broke her heart, more than she already thought possible.

She left their bedroom quietly, so as not to disturb him and went downstairs to the library. The manor looked almost perfect, as though aurors hadn't destroyed it only yesterday. Lucius had tasked himself with cleaning up the debris and she had tried to repair the valuables (being the stronger of the couple at such charms) but she couldn't recall it being so tidy when she eventually went to bed. Skippy must have returned at some point yesterday and carried on with the work they had been too tired to complete.

"Skippy?" she called, settling down at her desk. Waiting only a moment, she heard a faint pop at her side, and suddenly large eyes were peering into hers.

"Yes, mistress?" she squeaked.

"Could you bring me some coffee?"

She nodded in response, "Anything to eat, mistress?"

"No, Skippy," she replied. "Just coffee."

Once the creature had disappeared, she pulled her writing kit from the drawer. Parchment paper, her gold and black quill, ink and a golden seal stamp embossed with a letter 'M'. She ran her fingers over the lettering of the stamp, recalling it as a gift from her late mother-in-law during a time when her biggest problem was her in-laws calling her a 'Ravenclaw'. Replacing it on her desk with a sigh, she put the quill onto the parchment, forcing herself to start writing.

Dear Andromeda,

A good start, but where did she go from here? What did one say to their sister they'd allowed to be disowned? She could hardly pretend the last 20-odd years hadn't happened, nor could she pretend she entirely approved of the path she had taken. Andromeda would see straight through such a lie.

I'm sure I am the last person you had expected to (or wanted to) hear from, but I wanted to reach out after finding out about some events which unfolded during the Battle of Hogwarts. Of course I do not expect a reply, but I had to reach out and say thank you.

As I'm sure you are aware, Draco was killed during the battle. I am aware of your losses, too, and would like to send my most sincere condolences. However, I would also like to thank you for the actions of your late daughter, Nymphadora. You may be aware that she was with Draco when he died and saw to it that his death was avenged in an equally as painful and violent way possible. I only wish I could have thanked her myself.

Lucius and I are on house arrest ahead of our trial next week. I don't have an expectations of my deeds going unpunished and I wouldn't want them to, for I don't claim to be an innocent party. I feel that even though we survived the battle, my husband and I are very much going to lose the war. We deserve everything we get.

I believe in the teachings you and I were brought up to practice, and I can't pretend that I was ever as kind or as brave as you were. I wanted you to know that in spite of the different paths we have taken and the company I chose to surround myself with, I never stopped considering you my sister. I do very much regret never standing up for you or against Bellatrix. I'm sorry.

I hope you and your grandson are as well as is possible given the circumstances, and I wish you all the best for the future.

Sincerely,

Narcissa Malfoy

She stared at the letter before her, reading and re-reading her words before stuffing the paper into a nearby envelope. It would have to do. Having said as much as she felt comfortable to say, she scribbled her sister's name on the front and made her way to the owlery before she could change her mind. She wasn't sure entirely what she was hoping to achieve from this letter, doubting her original motives for sending it in the first place. At first, she had wanted to thank her for her daughter's actions - so why was she justifying herself to the woman her sister had dubbed a 'blood traitor'?

Finding the owl she was looking for, she approached the eagle owl with fresh tears pricking her eyes. Her own owl watched her with curiosity, presumably wondering why it was not being called to action. Lucius' owl focused on the bowl of food before it, indifferent to the scene unfolding within the small structure it was contained within.

Stroking Draco's owl, she couldn't help but cry. She recalled Draco's first years at Hogwarts where she would send it with a package of sweet treats for Draco and he would send the owl back with letters describing the great trials and tribulations of being a teenager in return. Lucius was never the intended recipient of the letters, but he would ask to read it after she was finished and would laugh or roll his eyes or rant in response to its contents. Narcissa was always glad to see his owl clutching a letter upon his return from Hogwarts, and she knew Lucius was too. Despite his insistence that she ought not to spoil Draco so, she knew he loved their son just as intently as she did.

"Oh, Artemis," she sobbed, giving the creature its final piece of attention atop its little head. Tilting his head, his bright orange eyes bore into her own, unsure of what had prompted her sadness. Having served her son for over 12 years, she would miss seeing the beautiful little owl every time she had to send a letter. Secretly a great animal lover, Narcissa treasured the moments she spent with the owls. How gorgeous he was.

Artemis pushed his head against her hand, savouring her touch before she spoke again, "Take this to Andromeda Tonks - she lives somewhere in Oxford. Then you are free, my lovely."

Nipping her finger affectionately, Artemis squeaked before pinching the letter from her hand. With a final tilt of his head, he hopped towards the edge of the wall and took flight, wings spreading wide against the pink and purple hues of the late afternoon sky. She watched the bird soar into the horizon, growing smaller and smaller with distance and finally she turned away, feeling as though some period of her life had come to an abrupt end.

If you can't tell, I'm part of team 'Narcissa Malfoy was a 3D character and she deserved more character development'. Alas, I don't think we'll get anymore Narcissa in the HP universe, so here we are. Hope you're enjoying the slowest of slow-burners. X