Empty was My Soul: Chapter 4
Authors Notes: So far everything has started to turn mellow…. I was thinking of writing a novella but,.. As it is now, I'm might have to have to discontinue this series. I was thinking of writing some really cool stuff, but it just didn't fit in. Perhaps a second series is in order.
Lucius stalked around the halls at night. He went even further than usual and didn't even bother to note the servants who scurried away in fear. He took the liberty to randomly throw and smash anything within his arms reach.
* Why?! * His mind screamed, * Why? What did I fail at? Aren't I a good husband?! * He picked up a small statuette and threw it against the wall, pretending it was his own face.
* Damn me!!! * He punched the wall with all his might, and screamed in both rage and pain as his flesh impacted with the hard stone. A servant that had been scurrying around from room to room approached him nervously, and looked at his feet sadly as she stooped to clean the small trail he had blazed in the Manor. She nodded respectfully before turning to leave. He stopped her.
"Get me something to drink!!" he snarled at her, "And make it hard!!!"
She paled in apprehension and ran away as fast as her legs could carry her. Lucius scowled and stalked down the lonely hall and up the stairs to the chapel he haunted on a daily basis. It was here that he could tell the world how he felt, pour his deepest emotions into the air, scream at fate…
He walked down the aisle and stopped in front of the mantle. To its right was an organ, the organ, his organ. Music was what relived him of his rage, but he didn't know if it would work this time.. He remembered that his father Cassius Malfoy had come here often and forced him to play, and play, and play. Always he was made to play sad and angry songs while his father paced, so he learned early on how to express such strong emotions through to instrument. He frowned miserably.
* Draco ran to some Mudblood's house, why? Doesn't he want to be here…with me? Narcissa…how…could…you…betray me so…? *
He snarled at no one. He felt a bitter taste in his mouth as rage bubbled up again inside him…
Footsteps suddenly came from the entrance of the chapel; he rounded on the person, a feral expression on his face. It was the Head Maid, Hilda, with a wine bottle in an icebox and a steel goblet.
"Master." She nodded in the appropriate manner, handing him the goblet, "It's steel, so you wont be able to smash it as easy, and this is wine, so you'll fall asleep instead of going into a drunken fury."
"Thank you so much, Hilda." He sneered, snatching the bottle from the icebox. Anything to keep from being sober. His maid raised her eyebrows disapprovingly before turning and walking away. No one wanted to be near the Master for very long when he was in this mood. She stopped at the doorway and said:
"It's not all your fault you know, you were raised with no other example of how to act.."
Then she left.
He roared several curses from his vast repertoire and whoever was near quickly disappeared. He planted himself on the organ bench and pulled off the cork to his bottle. He drank the entire bottle in minutes. He didn't give a damn about alcohol poisoning. He wanted to lose the pain, and the memories. He tipped the bottle from the organ and leaned in on the giant keyboards. He started to play, slowly and aimlessly at first, but gradually he became faster, more furious and less conscious. His fingers seemed to be possessed as he passed in-between consciousness. He didn't need music. He attacked the keyboard with his own songs, ones he had learned to play through instinct. I t was an angry song, fast and sad at the same time. After several minutes he stopped and leaned over on the keyboard, causing it to resonate with one single pitch..
*Narcissa. * He pondered, * Why do I care about you? Why do I feel this way…even after all we've been through? *
He reached forward and grabbed the wine red sheets over the organ, twisting his fingers into the fabric.
*I hate this!! I hate you. I hate myself!!! I just want to die!!! *
And with that he pulled fiercely at the red sheets, subconsciously knowing that the heavy, black cross was right over him.
It came crashing down, it's long spike slicing through his chest, barely missing his heart, impaling him and causing him to fly from his seat at the organ. He screamed, half in disappointment that the holy item hadn't killed him, half in pain. But he was drunk, poisoned, and he fell into a blissfully dark sleep. The last thing he heard was a voice crying out his name. He mistook it for an angel telling him he was going in the wrong direction; he was supposed to be heading down.
Narcissa had not bothered to wonder what had happened to Arthur Sinclair after that morning. She supposed he had gone back to his family and friends and overdressed wife gloating over his newest triumph, screwing Lucius Malfoy's wife. She felt more than used. The man had left without even saying goodbye. She had thought he was kind, she had thought Lucius was kind, too. Was she just some pretty face that came down for polishing once in a while? Did anyone in the entire god-forsaken earth love her?!
She sniffled and thought of her cold, caustic husband, wondering where he had run off to while she had been….busy. The maids would tell her nothing, and Draco was quite off the deep end after having his skull fractured. She sighed listlessly and tried to turn back to a book on Astronomy. Lucius was probably at the Ministry, working his problems away.
"Milady?" a voice fro behind called quietly.
She turned; it was Hilda, the Head Maid. Hilda was a sassy woman in her fifties, but she was also the best maid in the country. She had bee in the Malfoy family since birth; she had watched Lucius emerging from his mother, winced alongside the other maids as the boy had been beaten by Cassius, and observed quietly even now…
Narcissa considered the woman an equal, seeing as she was quite often treated as a servant in her own right. Lucius saw Hilda as an unpleasant reminder of his father and his past life, but he didn't get rid of her. He clung to every small reminder of his past, horrible as it was, because just like Draco doted him, Lucius had practically worshiped his father. Narcissa had a feeling that if Lucius were to come in contact with a boggart, it would probably turn into Cassius Malfoy. At least she alone had not feared the man.
"Milady?" Hilda repeated.
Narcissa smiled feebly, "Hello, Hilda, how are you?"
Hilda didn't return the gesture.
"Don't ask me how I've been when your husband's going into a flying rage, breaking things and slapping around the maids, you hussy!!"
Narcissa took that like a well-planted blow to the face. Hilda had never been this rude before. She blinked several times. Had Draco's running away really caused her husband t go that up the wall? Or did he know?! She felt herself starting to break into a cold sweat. Had he seen Mr. Sinclair leave, or did one of the servants tell him? Lucius had always scared her with his sense of perception.
"I know what you're thinking." Hilda continued, "Does he know? And how?"
Narcissa swallowed. Hilda, as well as most of the maids, knew about that morning.
"Well, let me tell you," Hilda snarled, "The man does know."
Narcissa gasped, all her color instantly drained from her face.
"Her walked in on you two." Hilda finished.
Narcissa let out a soft moan and brought her hands to her mouth. So he knew. Was he going to kill her? Or was he going to torture her until the end of their lives? Her mood only worsened as Hilda went on to explain that he had walked in that morning because he had planned to tell his wife about their son's injuries, and that he had gone off to the chapel to abuse himself physically and mentally.
The maid watched silently as Narcissa cried. She shook her head ever so slowly, pondering the cause of the Malfoys' unhappiness. She had come in contact with 3 generations of Malfoys, and each one was as bad as the rest.
"Was it worth it?" she whispered ever so softly.
Narcissa looked up, her eyes red and puffy.
"It-it wasn't worth it." She sniffed through her hands. "He-he didn't even care about m-m-me…I've-I've ruined everything." She bit her lip in effort, trying to keep from wailing.
"It's not over yet." Hilda declared, "If he can forgive you, and you him…"
Narcissa sniffed again. She was about to reply when the pealing of an organ interrupted her. She paled. Lucius frequently played the organ; when he was furious, or when he was in pain. He liked the surroundings, being in a chapel, and pounding the keys like there was no tomorrow. It was as if he could only express his emotions through the instrument. He was good; everyone admitted he could be a professional if he wanted to, but he was haunted by something; perhaps a memory that was relived every time he played. In any case, his resorting to the instrument to calm his nerves usually meant he had alcohol too. Narcissa began to shake in fear of what the man had I store for her.
Hilda shook her head and turned to the frightened wife.
"I gave him some wine, blimey, I can remember when his father had the stuff and forced the boy to play for him on that blasted organ…"
Narcissa gazed up at Hilda with a pleading written across her face.
"Should I go to him?" she whispered.
"He won't get any less angry. Right now he's probably too stoned to do anything to you and still understand what you're saying. Better go to him before he decides it's all your fault."
Narcissa nodded mutely before rising slowly and walking as though she were barefoot on glass to the door. Lucius was going to kill her. She had insulted his pride, his sense of ethics and morality, and worst of all, she had betrayed him for a strange man she didn't even know. She began to see images of her lifeless corpse being thrown into the deepest dungeon, left to rot. She did not know if Lucius cheated on her; but sometimes he came home smelling different. Like a woman, as if he had been with one for a while, rubbed against them, shared the same skin with them. Perhaps he did, but she had no proof.
She crept into the hallway, wincing as Lucius began to play an improvisation. It was incensed with anger and hatred of the third degree; it caused the windows to rattle and the floors to pound.
"Stop it Lucius…" she cried softly under her breath. Every key that came down was like a knife to her heart. It hurt, and maybe she deserved it, but still…
At the doorway to the cathedral she halted. Something hard and heavy could be heard smashing against the keyboard of the organ and she heard Lucius scream. The organ continued playing, as though a weight were pressed on its keys. She thought perhaps Lucius was venting and finishing a dramatic piece, but it became very clear that something was wrong. She covered the distance between the chapel and her in seconds.
There was Lucius, his body coiled over the organ, limp and lifeless. A bottle of wine lay at his feet, the last remnants dripping from its mouth, mixing with the sticky blood running down the legs of the instrument. But what really made her face drain and contort in fear was the cross that impaled Lucius through his chest, with twisted and mangled pieces of metal wrapped around it. She ran to her husband, thinking nothing about the organ's constant scream, or the over turned pews. His eyes were glazed over, his lips parted, and in his hands he held the red sheets that were supposed to be beneath the black cross. Realization hit her. He had tried to kill himself. Her husband; the strong one, the sturdy one,…the unpredictable one.
"Lucius!" she moaned softly. She dashed to him and futilely tried to lift him from the keyboard. Frantically she looked around, she couldn't do magic, she had never been taught how, she couldn't help him…
"Help!!" she screamed, trying to attract attention over the organ's wailing. "Someone help!!!"
No one seemed to hear. She pulled at Lucius, harder and harder. As she groaned in helplessness a memory hit her.
A dressing room:
"Put this on."
"Why?"
"It suits you better than that black dress."
"Alright…"
Raised eyebrows.
"You look beautiful."
"Did you peek?"
"Of course not."
Soft screams…
"What's that noise?"
"I-I think it's my mother…"
In that very chapel.
"You're going to go look at girls aren't you?"
"You're the most wonderful girl I've ever met…"
"Mother!!"
Father…look…"
"No!!" Narcissa snarled. " I won't let you leave me Lucius!! I love you! I won't let you go!!" She pulled as if she were possessed and the cross eased out of him like a knife in butter. Blood oozed from Lucius' chest and she removed him from the keyboard. At last the organ stopped crying out. For some reason, she no longer felt scared. She was going to save him. Her Lucius. Even if he didn't love her,…she loved him… She leaned foreword, and placed her palms over his wounds. Her eyes closed and warmth poured from her. If she had been one of the servants running in, she would have seen herself emitting a soft green light, and watched, aghast as Lucius' bones, muscle and tissue mended into an tender wound, not a life threating one.
Narcissa felt someone pull her off of him and walk her from the chapel. If she hadn't been so suddenly tired she would have realized something very important. She had used magic…
This is the end of Chapter 4!! I'm sorry for taking so long, but I can only type this during the weekends, and then I have parties and school volunteering, blah, blah, blah…
Chapter 5 is going to be one of my favorites!! As a quick taste I'll tell you some of the plot. The Dark Lord summons Lucius. Since he is unable to attend, Narcissa must go for him…and is inducted as a Death Eater. And Draco gets his first taste of blood…Hehehe.