Harry was still on the fence about whether they should apologise to Elena. "They", because clearly, the Slytherin regarded them as a trio and therefore her quarrel with Hermione transferred to being mad at the two boys as well. Not that they minded it that much, although Ron was terrified of her and for some reason expected her to seek vengeance. Harry couldn't understand why, because while he himself was somewhat suspicious of her, he found her harmless. She was small, very calm, had a faint a voice and compared to Hermione, for example, not a dominating presence. "Well, maybe Ron is just afraid of all girls" he joked in his mind. It would make sense, considering how many brothers he had.
He did, however, share the redhead's opinion that they should be wary of her and that befriending her wasn't the best idea. She was friends with Draco, as they noticed lately, and the two of them couldn't be more blatantly admired by Snape in the Potions' class. The same Snape, who tried to steal the Sorcerer's Stone from Fluffy's guard. Ron said something along the lines that nothing good could come out of Slytherin, and Harry's impression so far was proving that to be true. As such, he stood for his friend's point that the apology was neither necessary, nor a good idea, but, it turned out, they didn't have a say in it.
When Hermione came to them with her idea, they were playing chess in the Common Room and asked her to let them finish, but she said it couldn't wait and, with a huge grin on her face said:
- We're going to go to say sorry to Elena. I'll fill you in on it on the way.
Then, deaf to their protests, she took them by the sleeves of their robes and basically dragged them with her towards the library.
"How does she know where to look for Elena if they're not speaking to each other?" he wondered, but then it hit him:"They both spend so much time there, that Hermione, with her brilliant memory, is guaranteed to know her schedule. Even on Sundays, it seems. And even now, or especially now, because she's trying to avoid running into her, right?".
- So, what is it? – Ron asked Hermione on their way, trying to free himself from her grasp.
- Well – she sounded very pleased with herself – You won't believe what Parvati told me! El got into a fight with Draco and Pansy!
- Since when is that good? – the redhead inquired, dumbfounded and earned a look of pity from her.
- Well, of course it's not good, but it was about calling people names because they're muggles. And she made Pansy levitate!
Harry didn't expect their friend to be this excited about something that involved breaking the rules, but he understood where here enthusiasm was coming from. And he too found Elena's stunt impressive. At this point he was able to make heavy books levitate, but a human? That was definitely something! On the other hand, his suspicions towards any member of the Slytherin house weren't about to disappear because of a little gossip.
- But how do you know it's true? You said that the problem you had with her was exactly that she wouldn't say a thing last time – he decided to remark.
- Parvati knows from her sister, of course, and if you weren't aware Elena sneaks to the Ravenclaw Common Room every now and then, so Padma heard it from the horse's mouth – Hermione explained patiently, sounding almost offended that they doubted the quality of her sources.
- But you can ask El herself if you don't believe me – she suggested quietly when they entered the library.
Elena was reading in the corner, her small silhouette hunched over a book that must have weighted half what she did. When she heard familiar voices coming from the door, the silver-dappled mane on her head raised as turned around to look at them. A wince, that from a distance could be interpreted as a smile, appeared on her face, the moment she noticed who it was.
Hermione once again took charge and approached her first, just as she started packing her things, having realised that they probably want to talk and that the silent space around them wasn't the best place to do that. The two boys stood behind, blocking the way inside and therefore got pushed away by an older student, who must have been in a hurry and then decided to move out of the way, from then on waiting outside. Meanwhile the two curly-haired girls walked out of the library, having put back the huge red tome Elena had been reading.
- What is it? – the pale one whispered on their way out.
- We came to say sorry to you – Hermione answered, now that they closed the door behind them, able to speak loudly.
- Oh, is that so? – she didn't seem convinced, shooting wary glances at the boys.
- Yeah. Because of what happened – Ron dared to answer, and must have instantly regretted it, since her glance, or rather glare, was now fixed on him.
- And what did? – her narrowed eyes travelled from the ginger-head to Harry and then back to the girl.
- Well, Ron wanted to say, how now that we know what's your stance on muggle-borns in Hogwarts, we wanted to apologise – the black-skinned girl paused, as if wondering if that was the correct choice of words - I wanted to apologise. For having doubted that.
- I'm a muggle-born myself, I thought it was obvious what I thought – she replied, although now in a less defensive tone.
- You can think whatever if you don't act on it – Harry interrupted.
- Hm... maybe you're right. Sorry for not acting on it before then, Hermione – Elena said and they hugged each other.
He and Ron stood by, awkwardly, but then she turned to them and hugged them both as well.
- See, I'm not evil. I don't bite. Or kill on sight. Or whatever you fools were thinking – she grinned, possibly amused by the expressions of surprise on their faces.
- But now, if you excuse me, I have to get back to studying. The exams are not going to write themselves – she said, pulling away and picking up the backpack she previously threw on the ground.
- They're at the end of the semester, right? – the red-head asked, looking for support from the tawny boy.
Harry nodded, wondering if this was yet another unintentional way to annoy Hermione on his side. If it were, it could prove funny to watch it play out.
– So why would you study for them now?
Hermione and Elena exchanged knowing glances, somewhat similar to those teachers discussing the behaviour of their less-gifted students usually would. Harry remembered his maths' professor's eyes to have the same appearance when Dudley's test results were discussed.
- Because I love studying, of course – the girls lips twisted towards the right now, with a tad of sneer perhaps, but Ron remained oblivious to it.
- Oh, okay then – he replied, before they said their goodbyes and parted ways.
After they arrived back in the Gryffindor Common and Hermione left them for a minute, it turned out that Ron was still absorbed with that conversation, since the first thing he said to Harry when they were left alone, was:
- Another mental one! No wonder Hermione likes her so much.
Two days had passed after the "incident" and Draco's anger slowly started to wear off.
He had already written to his mother about the notebook and on Monday morning he received a new one, along with the usual packet of sweets. He might have forgot to mention the details of how he lost it, to the dissatisfaction of his father, who clearly had suspicions of some sort, judging by how for the first time since the boy went to Hogwarts he bothered to add something of his own to the letter his wife would send.
Therefore, more than a half of the card was covered with questions about his wellbeing, advice on how to approach the teachers about the lost notes and congratulations on the grades he previously boasted about, written in his mother's characteristic dark silver cursive, and the other part, separated with a harsh line, had only four sentences on it, in even more calligraphic red lettering. Those, coming of course from his father, were as follows: "Why is it only E and not an O? I believe you can do better, Draco." and "Why had we not found out from you about the detention? Besides – how did it happen that you lost the notebook?".
For now he decided not to answer, figuring he could do that later just as well, and hoping that if his owl didn't return home by night his mom wouldn't fret too much, instead resolving to simply sending the package using her own. But then it got to him that he didn't have a cage for Saturnus at school, so the poor bird would either have to be squeezed with the plebs of the owlery or accompany him most of the time, and he wasn't that fond of animals...
His eyes involuntarily travelled to the girl sitting beside him, who he had been ignoring ever since the hassle. "Doesn't she have more than one cage for the raven? I think I heard her say something like that" the thought crossed his mind, before he stopped himself with a harsh "No! I can't talk to her! She ruined my notebook, who cares about her bird!". He was kind of surprised, honestly, that she was still sitting at their table during the meals, since he noticed that Potter and his friends were welcoming her to their own yesterday, and here she had literally no one to talk to, so she took a book with her instead. It was almost sad to watch. "No, it's not sad. It's pathetic." he corrected himself as he decided to send the owl back home without an answer and have it prepared on the next morning it comes.
When he was finished with breakfast and headed to class, he felt a pat on the arm and turned over to see Pansy Parkinson.
- Hey, Draco – she greeted him with a smile.
- Hey, what's up?
- Not much, I wanted to ask how are you holding up after... you know, Saturday? – she said, walking beside him, definitely too close.
He shrugged, but that clearly wasn't enough of an answer for her. Well, maybe she wanted to hear him ask about her day in the hospital wing, but he wasn't too interested in that. Pansy was nice, sometimes, but she would become tiresome with her blabber after a while.
- I mean, it was awful what that mudblood did to your notebook, I think she should be expelled – his lips pouted slightly at "that word", but he wasn't aware of that.
The girl, however, did notice it and was now looking at him intently, wondering what he was thinking.
- My mother got me a new one already – he told her, pulling the this time dark-green covered pad out of his pocket.
They arrived at the Charms classroom before she could make any other comment about the happenings of the weekend and inside, without even asking, she took a seat next to him. When Elena entered, their eyes met for a second and, judging by the ire glistening in hers, he was almost convinced that this would result in yet another fight, but then the curly-haired girl took a seat next to some Ravenclaw and he heard Pansy whisper:
- The muggles stick together, huh?
For the rest of the day he sat with the short-haired girl, since she gave him little choice to do otherwise. He kind of started missing "his muggle friend" in the Study Hall, since she had decided to accept the Lions' invitation and move to their table. He did have company smarter than Crabbe and Goyle, in the person of Pansy, but sadly she was a lot less helpful than the over-ambitious girl. Not that he needed help, of course, he was doing just fine. Though maybe, if he wanted to satisfy his father's request to get better grades, he could have used a consultation every now and then.
But everything was to change tomorrow.
Once again the day started for him with receiving the usual gift, this time with a note "Draco, please do answer your father and me. A lot of love, Narcissa." attached to it. He was planning to do that anyways, although now, after being rushed, he suddenly didn't want to. Therefore he put the note he had prepared last evening in his pocket and left the owl in the Common Room, hoping it wouldn't make a mess until he'd send it back at lunch.
This week their second period on Tuesday was Potions, which he dreaded because it meant having to cooperate with Her and that just didn't seem like a good idea. He totally expected her to be petty and ruin his cauldron or something, because, being forced to talk to her now, he himself was fighting the urge to do something like that and restrained himself mostly out of consideration for the stern gaze of Snape, who seemed to be circling around their station with more rapt attention than ever, really a lot like a vulture over a carcass.
They managed to prepare their ingredients for Friday's brewing without any mishaps, burned hands or destroyed cauldrons, but then at the end the professor said something that made Draco see red. Before, he had no idea that he could even dare to be mad at the Potions' Master, knowing well that apart from being kind of intimidating, he was the his dad's good friend and therefore he should be even more respectful towards him, but this felt so much like a personal attack that he just couldn't get a hold of himself. His brow furrowed like his father's would in anger, when he heard Snape say, before dismissing the class:
- For Friday you will be expected to turn in an essay on every ingredient of the Forgetfulness Potion. In pairs – he announced, causing a murmur of discontent to sweep over the room, which immediately faded down under his cold stare.
Hermione, as one could expect of a fearlessly dumb Lion, although this time he could agree she had a point, put her hand up and when the teacher gave her the floor to speak with an unwelcoming frown on Snape's face, she discerned:
- But sir, the rules clearly state that we have to have at least a week to prepare an essay.
- For a personal essay, yes indeed. Yet you will be preparing this one in pairs, which gives three and a half days and two points from Gryffindor for your snootiness, Granger.
"Merlin's pants, what am I to do now? Is he doing that on purpose?" the young Malfoy spent his break wondering, mindlessly listening to the chatter of Blaise and Pansy's, who still was hanging around. In the Transfiguration lesson he was still lost in his thoughts, but then, halfway through the lesson Elena's hand raised into the air randomly.
- Yes, Miss Castel? – McGonagall let her speak.
- Ma'am, can I ask you a question?
- You already have, but yes, please do – the woman noted.
- I was wondering... is it possible to transfigure something burnt into its former shape? – only a complete fool would not understand the hidden meaning to that sudden query, but in that case Draco could clearly always count on his friends, because Crabbe now sent him a puzzled look, not understanding what was going on.
- Why, Miss Castel? Do you want to confess to burning something, perhaps? – the teacher's brow raised in suspicion.
She had probably heard about Saturday's events, but he doubted she knew all the details, because the Heads of Slytherin and Gryffindor definitely didn't like each other too much.
- No, of course not, professor. I was just curious. As always – Elena sent her the most falsely innocent smile she had in her repertoire.
He knew that trick, since he had the same habit when his mom was trying to scold him for anything. It never worked on his father, though. "And it doesn't on McGonagall either" he noticed.
- I have my doubts about that. But I can assure you, Miss Castel, that at such a low level of proficiency in Transfiguration even you or Ms. Granger would fail to use such a spell.
- So it exists then? – her tone was hopeful.
- I have to disappoint you, but no, such a spell does not exist. Not everything can be fixed with magic. And I would rather not find out that you did have a dangerous reason for your desire for knowledge in this matter, Miss Castel – she warned her at the end.
"Why would she ask this out loud, attracting the attention of McGonagall, when she could have just went to the library to check?" he asked himself, but the explanation was obvious. "Because she wanted me to hear that." Well, it was nice to see that he wasn't the only one wondering how to solve their group-working problem and this did imply that she was sorry, but what had happened still wasn't and couldn't be fixed, as it turned out. Besides, he had already gotten rid of the ashy remains of the notebook anyways.
Nevertheless, during the lunch break, he scrapped the last card he wrote and instead sent one that did not mention El as a culprit. He knew how his father could get and it was very much possible that he would come to school to persuade Snape or even Dumbledore himself to let Draco change his lab partner, if he knew. And since the options varied from Pansy to "those two nitwits", since Theodore and Blaise were already paired with each other, he'd rather spend the rest of the year in Potions in silence interrupted only by names of the ingredients. It wasn't the best option, but it wasn't completely insufferable.
On Wednesday he deduced it was his turn to show he's not that furious anymore and despite still keeping his quiet during breakfast, "Well, she seems engulfed in that book anyways", he ignored Pansy's glance when entering the classroom before their first lesson and took his seat next to Elena. Since it was History of Magic and there was no subject more boring and thus better suited for conversation, he hoped they could maybe make up, so that in the afternoon they could start working on the essay. She must have thought the same, because when professor Binns turned away, Draco felt a piece of paper poking against his hand.
It was blank, to his surprise. He sent Elena a puzzled look, eyebrows raised in a silent question and she shrugged, saying, in a barely audible whisper: "Say sorry."
He didn't feel that much like apologising. After all, they were even, kind of. Maybe even he was more the injured party than her. But he knew what she was pointing at, of course, and honestly, if this meant he'd have her help again... Then it could be worth the slightly insincere apology, even if it was a tad cringing to him.
It took him almost ten minutes until he finally decided to write something, and he had to turn the torn out page around, because he discovered that he had been mindlessly drawing on it. He scratched the doodles and on the blank side wrote a few words with his quill. Wary not to be noticed by the teacher, he then slid the card back towards Elena.
They kept communicating in that way for good twenty minutes, only rarely pausing to note something the monotonous voice of the professor said. When they were finished, the card was almost completely filled with the sepia brown and onyx black inking, his and hers respectively:
"I am sorry El, for calling you a mudblood" the word had been crossed out by him "badly. I swear I won't do it again." – he started.
"Until Pansy wants to talk to you?" – she doubted him.
"Come on, no. Not even to her." – he wasn't lying even, he was fed up with Pansy after the last two days and it didn't matter to him what she thought if she wasn't even a useful friend.
"Was that the only time though?" – her questions started becoming irritating, so he answered with one of his own.
"Yup. Have you found a way to repair my notebook, by the way?" – at this point they almost got caught, so his lettering was a little cramped as he had to watch Mr. Binns while writing.
"No, not a trace of one, sadly. And sorry for that. But I can help you re-write what you lost in the new one. Okay?"
"Okay. And the potions thing?"
"Yeah it seems Snape wanted us specifically to work together, don't you think? I mean, not a word to anyone, or we'll take all the blame, but he clearly doesn't want us to blow up the Potions' lab in a quarrel. So I guess we best do what we have to. But if you want me to help you in Herbology then you'll have to pay in sweets."
"How do you know about Herbology?" - he wrote, really surprised.
"I have eyes. Your dad's kinda mean though." - oh, so she wasn't just focusing on reading her book during those meals!
"Sometimes. So, how much?"- he had already once traded three chocolate frogs for a homework she let him copy, but this time he was afraid she'd demand more.
"How about half of what you get for two weeks?"
"One week." - his dad would be proud of such a business-like approach, or so he hoped.
"One and a half." – she too was a tough negotiator.
"But you'll do more of the Potions essay."
"Deal." – she smirked as she moved the paper towards him and so did he.
Well, it wasn't that hard to come to an agreement, it turned out.
Severus Snape rarely would receive letters, especially ones delivered to school. Even more infrequent were the cases when his Ciccaba huhula was interrupted from roaming around the grounds of Hogwarts to be given a dark brown envelope with the answer. This Thursday, however, the day came. The owl didn't have a name, he never bothered to give it one, instead choosing to call it without words like now, when, upon hearing him whistle, the black bird flew out of the forest and swooped, landing on his shoulder. Hearing the flutter of its wings behind him, the man lifted his pensive gaze from the black surface of the Great Lake and pulled the letter out of his pocket. His features softened slightly when he put it in the owl's beak, patting it gently on the head with his finger.
Carrying the small envelope, it took off from its master's arm and dashed towards the horizon, making for Wiltshire. Soon, it arrived at the manor, manoeuvring its way inside after most of the household was already asleep. The sound of its wings caused the dogs, laying on the floor beside their master's feet to lift their heads a long time before the bird landed on his desk.
- Silvanus, you found your way around closed windows and doors somehow, I see – the man addressed the owl upon its arrival.
He would frequently talk to animals he owned, or used to, although only if there were no prying human ears around to listen in. And the door to his study was indeed one of the scarce number of those which were left open during the night.
He took the envelope from the black feathered messenger, and, not needing to check for the sender's name, he tore it open to read the date and exact hour for his upcoming visit at Hogwarts.
"An unofficial one", he needed to remind himself, already bracing for the guaranteed displeasure of the headmaster if he were to run into him. It was, of course, impossible for Albus to be unaware of his presence on the school grounds, but it was still so early after his takeover of the Council, that he didn't want to push it. Probably the only thing he awaited with more indignation than the unavoidable quarrel with Dumbledore if they were to meet indeed, was the very sight of that pathetic old man, foolish muggle-admirer.
As he winced with disgust at the perspective alone, he noticed the owl was still in front of him. "Clearly, Silvanus has a better memory than I expected" he sighed, drawing his wand. Two confused mice, up until now living somewhere in the dungeons under the mansion, appeared in his left hand, in front of the anticipating animal. Holding them by their tails, Lucius watched almost as attentively as his hounds did when the owl ripped them out of his hand one by one and ate them alive, the greyish-pink threads disappearing inside its beak like strings of pasta.
Lord Malfoy, perhaps having inherited that from his father, a man who insisted on breeding Thestrals despite his high-standing friends' disapproval and was still a passionate hunter, held nature, especially the murdering aspect of it, in great regard.
The next morning, exactly a minute before the prearranged hour, Severus Snape, sitting in the darkness of his office and correcting a batch of senseless hogwash which some students dared to call their assigned essays, heard the distinctive sound of a cane knocking against the stone. Soon, without any further notice, the heavy door moved on its own accord, slamming into the wall loudly as a tall man in a black cloak with silver lining and dark-grey fur collar entered, his blond hair reflecting the flames of the candles behind the professor's back.
- Greetings, Severus – the intruder, or guest as most would call it, said, opening the curtains with a flick of his wand before he slid it back into the cane – You have such a beautiful view into the lake here, why would you keep them drawn?
- Greetings, Lucius – he replied, adding in a more sarcastic tone - Because I cherish being spited by people blinding me with light out of the sudden, obviously.
- Oh, you're right. My apologies – the black drapes moved back to the middle of the of the rod that was holding them and with them the door closed - Compromise?
He nodded in response, moving the school documents aside. Upon noticing that the blond man was still standing, hand wrapped around the silver ornament on the top of his cane, Snape asked him to take a seat, making one appear from the depths of the chamber, since the office was only prepared for solitary working or, if necessary, scolding students, not for taking visits.
- Tea? – the professor asked, somewhat grudgingly playing the role of the host of a social call.
- I hopefully won't be long, so no, thank you – the Malfoy reclined in the leather-upholstered armchair and only after he had found a comfortable position did he finally ask his question – Well... would you be so kind as to tell me why did my son receive that detention? A little bird told me a thing or two, as you've read, but what exactly had happened, I'm afraid, still remains unclear to me. And I wanted to find out from you, Severus.
"Am I supposed to feel honoured?" Snape thought with irony and his brow twitched a little.
- Draco called the other student a word he ought not to have used, she overheard it and confronted him. The kids fought, as they do, and were penalised for their actions accordingly – he answered curtly, hoping to cut the elucidation as short as possible, since upon the man's closer scrutiny it could quickly turn into a racial conflict, in which he had no intention to take sides in, when it concerned the students of his House.
He could have conjectured from the letter alone that his old friend expected an apology of sorts, so he added, meaning appease him:
- I do not suppose that you would assume I were unfair in my judgment, however, for the record, your son was only administered a single two-hours detention, which is a lot less than the bellwether. As was Mr. Parkinson's daughter, but I take you are already aware of that. Besides, it consisted of a few menial tasks, carried out under my own supervision and I had only chosen this type of punishment to spare him the shame of losing points for the House.
Lucius' icy, pewter-coloured eyes were fixed on his face as he spoke, his left hand, however, was playing with the silver rings on his fingers, turning them around after he had taken off his gloves. The cane now rested beside him, unguarded, leaning against the chair.
- Is the bellwether, as you called her, indeed a muggle-born, as I have heard? – the blond man inquired, probably wanting to assess whether she had actually been offended by his son – That would be very odd for a Slytherin, unprecedented almost, wouldn't it? In my personal opinion, if that is the case, the Hat has made a grave mistake. People like that should be kept as far away from the school in itself as possible.
He also believed that the slur was accurate towards wizards and witches of fully muggle ancestry, this Severus was certain about, but of course he couldn't usually indulge in openly expressing those views. Unless he were talking privately and off-the-record with somebody he trusted to share them, of course. Like in this very moment. Therefore, the professor was now in the rather uncomfortable position of having to divert the topic from the girl's possibly exclusively-muggle lineage without forthrightly defending her. He himself, after all, wasn't too fond of muggles either, his attitude would be perhaps best described by the word "ambivalent".
- Since I do not have the habit of learning all of my students' family trees by heart, I am unable to tell you that, Lucius. Moreover, I am convinced that this is a piece of confidential information – he decided to respond.
- Oh, so am I. But you need to keep in mind that I am on the Board of Hogwarts' Governors and as such am in authority to posses it – leaning forwards, his guest reminded him about his power, despite just having exploited the informality of their conversation.
"Well, it is an unachievable feat to forget your titles, Lucius, when you flaunt them every two seconds" Severus remarked internally. He was used to that, considering how it took the Malfoy nearly two years after graduation to stop referring to himself as the Slytherin Prefect; and that was only caused by the fact that he then briefly worked at the Ministry, thus gaining the even more dignified label of a senior-Obliviator. However, to the black-haired wizard accustoming to something meant constantly griping about it with resentment without outwardly exhibiting it, rather than actually accepting it as it was.
When he replied, his sarcastic observations had made their way into his tone:
- In that case, if I find out, I will be sure to let you know, Governor. Officially – the corner of his mouth raised slightly, and so did Lucius', surprisingly – But for now, as I lack the insight you seek, I can only emphasize that the girl, whatever her heritage, is a member of the Slytherin House. While I do think highly of your son's magical abilities, – "A lousy euphemism for – while I associate him with the reputation of his parentage." – I cannot give preferential treatment to any of the students. They are judged solely on merit. Their ancestry is irrelevant – as he was saying that, the faces of Longbottom and Potter flashed before his eyes, but he dismissed them quickly. - And I assure you, that my highest priority is keeping order amongst the Slytherins. Besides, as far as I know, those two have already buried the hatchet.
As he finished his, hopefully sufficiently persuasive, oration, Lucius, who had previously once again leaned back in the armchair, raised his brows with scepticism, shaking his head slightly.
- Have they? – he paused, looking at Severus in disbelief until he nodded. - To be frank, I wouldn't have expected that. Draco is usually rather... vindictive, so to say. Well then, it seems that you really have everything under control, Head of the Slytherin House – Malfoy's tone was mimicking his jibe about the governor's post from earlier.
- I cannot say that I am fully converted to accepting your stance on that... issue, Severus, but I trust your judgment. Although I must admit I would rather not have this happen again, since that would force me to bring it up to the Board.
"Bring up what exactly? That those, who some of you call their beautiful, lovable children, are just a bunch of foolish little brats and their acts very much do show it? What's next, the shocking announcement that water is wet?" Snape wondered, although his expression remained unaffected by the ironic questions appearing in his brain. It wouldn't be too wise to admit to a father that his kid hardly differed from the rest.
- I will do my utmost to avoid that – he said instead – Although, and I cannot stress that enough, it is your son's responsibility to behave himself. Which includes avoiding conflicts. Even with muggle-borns – the determination in his onyx eyes managed to stop Lucius from trying to argue that those were sometimes justified.
- Fair enough – the blond man put his gloves back on, having turned the rings as they previously were, then took his cane and got up from the chair – Well, I think I've learned everything I needed to know. Thank you for your time, Severus – he sounded diplomatically polite rather than friendly, but then he added, causing the professor's consternation - En passant, if you ever find the time, Narcissa and I would be elated to have you as a guest, even if it were to discuss our son's misbehaviour – judging by the contrast between his eyes and smile, he meant that last thing as a joke he would rather not see come true - Just send Silvanus to us a day or two in advance.
"He'll never back down from calling it that, will he? And what a ridiculous idea, as if it weren't enough that I'm visiting them in March each year..." Snape remarked to himself, although there was a chance, a very slim one, that he was a tad bit content upon hearing the invitation.
- Yes, of course, if I do find the time I will be sure to let you know – he definitely didn't sound too pleased, part of him insisting on forcing the blond man to regret his decision.
- Well, then à la prochaine, Severus – he heard the Malfoy speaking on his way out, unconcerned by his typical lack of enthusiasm.
The door closed behind him, but he must have turned back after just a few steps, since the cane's knocking which accompanied him didn't fade away. He entered once again, making the Hogwarts' teacher raise his brows in a silent question. "Whatever did he leave behind?"
- Oh, I forgot one thing – the blond man said, upon returning, drawing his wand and with a flick of it getting the curtains to the state they were in when he came upon them – You prefer to sit in darkness.
Narcissa Malfoy née Black never had a problem tolerating her husband's personality quirks. Or working her way around them, if need were.
In most matters, they were very much compatible, thus forming a harmonious marriage, and for an arranged union, compared to the ones in their environment, even a happy one. The connection between them was mainly a friendship, but perhaps the closest one either of them had ever had. Despite Lucius' despotic inclinations, they would always strive for compromise in the issues they faced as a family, since he learned early that his wife was not someone who'd let him impose his will on her, even if her methods of achieving her own goals were far more subtle than his.
The only trait of his she never managed to alter to make it more tolerable to her, were his violent fits of rage. Almost always directed at those much lower than them, they presented no threat to her or her son, but she found them disruptive, considering that on a bad day every little thing could provoke an outburst. Therefore, she was almost glad when he had found a way to alleviate them by throwing himself into the hobbies of his, which over the years he'd had a large number of.
First was hunting perhaps, because she remembered him showing her the head of a dear he had caught back when she visited the Malfoy Manor for the first time in her life, when his parents were still the ones residing in the impressive villa. After their wedding, when he took over the estate, for a while he'd still go hunting in their forest every now and then, but that attracted the attention of Malfoy Senior, who her husband looked very much grateful to have gotten rid of after his parents moved away, leaving the manor to the newlywed couple. Therefore he wasn't too pleased about his offers of accompanying him and soon gave up on those trips to the backwoods, focusing on advancing his position in the organisation he had meanwhile joined. She watched him grow in power there, as well as in the businesses he was gradually receiving control over as Abraxas would slowly retreat into the shadows. Maintaining all the connections he inherited and making his own, engaging actively in the war, becoming the Lord's favoured right hand, gaining an authority over the Eaters that only he himself could surpass – it all took a lot of his energy, enough that he would not take it out on the house elves who had failed to predict that he would have wanted a goblet of nettle wine instead of the elderflower one he was offered.
Then came the downfall. Despite his position in the ranks of the supremacists, he couldn't keep a hold of the raging pack of wolves that those murderous wizards resembled, when they scattered round in fear after Voldemort's disappearance. He spent the winter trying to organise them, but failed to and then had to retreat, to give up on his ambitious plans. And so she was forced to see Lucius fall, unable to help in any way, but always present by his side, even when he was defeated and then in the late 1982 subsequently charged with the mass-murdering of muggles attributed to the Death Eaters. At first he wasn't afraid, since he averted being immediately discovered, but after the date for his first trial had been appointed, even though he still remained free in his home unlike numerous of their less influential friends, panic took hold of him. But for her support and the arrangements she helped his father organise, he could have very well broken in an interrogation and made a mistake that would let the investigators find a proof of his crimes.
She was so worried during that period, the memories of the sleepless nights still lingered in her mind to this day. On the days of the questioning – the dark, deserted manor, the crying of their child in the cradle standing right beside the huge bed, far too big for one person alone. Him, coming back home, exhausted, apathetic, unable to even describe how it went to her. Her, agonising over what would happen if he were indeed incarcerated for years in Azkaban. She didn't even have anyone to tell her worries to, since apart from her parents-in-law, who too preferred to keep their distance, everybody they held dear was either too afraid to associate with them while the attention of the Ministry was so focused on Lucius, or were dealing with similar problems themselves. Even Narcissa's own family could not keep her company, preoccupied with trying to persuade Bella not to confess her crimes. The only person from amongst their friends, who would dare to visit them in that time was the recently exonerated Severus Snape.
On her birthday in the spring of 1983, which she had forgotten about because of all that was happening, he appeared at the gate, without prior notice but to her pleasant surprise, bordering on relief that not everyone forgot about the two of them, and thus came the tradition of inviting him every year.
The Blacks' youngest daughter was imprisoned before May came, due to her own choice in fact, but it was a huge blow for Narcissa nevertheless. Her husband, luckily, wasn't as foolish as her sister and was cleared of the charges he faced because of the Imperiatus Curse he swore had been used on him shortly after. He was finally able to spend their son's third birthday with her instead of isolating in his study on the second floor as he developed the habit to during the trials. Since he now was on the quest of rebuilding his reputation and influence, that was possibly the biggest party ever held for Draco's birthday, and she welcomed the crowds happily, suddenly appreciative of the alternative to the complete silence she had to get used to in the last few months.
Soon, the period of post-war restlessness began, when Lucius would disappear to France for weeks on end, lying to her face that it was the muggle perfume-business his father gifted him with after his return to the land of living that was keeping him there, but she knew everything there was to, only she never let him conjecture that she did.
Keeping him on his toes in this matter was beneficial to her in many ways, as he was much more careful around her, as well as inclined to agree with anything she decided. She used that to remain in control about Draco's upbringing, refusing to leave it to an house-elven nanny or a mentor and thus defying a longstanding tradition of the Malfoys. She did not mind being left alone either, since now that their previous influence not only returned but even grew and bloomed, she had plenty of things to keep herself busy with during his absences. This situation continued up until their son was about seven years old, when, reacting to Lucius' fit of rage towards a house-elf, she brought up his affairs and thus forced him to put an end to them. He briefly returned to hunting and Thestral-riding then, but it weren't for long.
Next was the gambling, which she was sure he was introduced to by some muggle contractor or business partner of his. Once again she let him believe she had no clue, despite having plenty. His frequent disappearances, usually excused by the business meetings, weren't what aroused her suspicions. It was the vials of Polyjuice hidden in the library, which she stumbled upon by chance when she was trying to find a book on Untransfiguration to change the broccoli her son managed to turn into stone during a tantrum back into its original state. She started paying attention to them and quickly noticed that those supplies were draining regularly, every two weeks or so, then being replaced by new ones. Along with them, the muggle-money stored in the chests in Lucius' study was disappearing. Linking the two together wasn't too hard. She did not preoccupy herself with the matters of finances, because she never needed to, but she did have access to the book-keeping documents he kept and on her first suspicion started studying them intently, monitoring how much he was losing. Considering the revenues of his French perfume factories alone, the ones he stopped being so keen about after she once implied that she had found a piece of clothing that did not belong to him in the luggage he brought back, it was nothing, thankfully. Nevertheless, she kept a close watch on them from then on, ready to intervene if ever became necessary.
Once again, she never informed him explicitly about her finding out, but probably he assumed she did, because when they had to decide where to send Draco to school to, it was enough for her to give one argument for him to surrender and agree with her, that Hogwarts was a better choice. Well, the leverages she had over him, definitely were useful in such cases.
As stated, she was a very, extraordinarily even, tolerant wife. But everyone had their limits. And hers were reached, when one day she went downstairs all by herself to take a bottle of Champaign, not entrusting the sometimes awfully clumsy house-elves with such fragile and valuable things. She went into the dark corridor of the manor's basement and headed to the part they stored their wines in. Suddenly, she stepped on something soft that twitched under her shoe. Expecting it to be a mouse, she used the Lumos spell to brighten up her surroundings and upon the sight screamed so loudly that it was probably audible outside of the villa as well. Thankfully, she wasn't holding a bottle when she saw the frightened faces of the two tied up people on the floor, because she would have been guaranteed to drop it on stones to crash on.