She was alone in front of the small raised grave plot, which nestled the
undersized coffin deep within its chilled stone embrace. This was how she
had preferred it. Other mourners would have merely complicated it with
their insincere grieving.
She could hear, in the distance, the murmurs of the lone Daily Prophet reporter as they wrote out something on their pad of parchment. The story was not that important, and she was glad of it in a way. She didn't need pity.
She caressed the small lock of ebony hair between her fingers, the only memento she had that the child she had carried for nine months had actually existed at all. Her mouth felt like it had been stuffed with ashes as she placed the precious strands back in her locket.
There were footsteps behind her, but she ignored them, dismissing them as someone visiting another grave. Only when a white rose was tossed gently on top of the casket did she turn to see the new visitor to the tiny tomb.
She would have recognized the carrot hair and emerald eyes anywhere. Lyle Evans: successful Auror, Hogwarts Head Boy of 1976, and ex-boyfriend. The first few months of her troublesome marriage she had entertained the thought of eloping like he had wanted. After some nights she would be on the verge of packing a small bag of clothing and snitching the nearest broom and abandoning Malfoy Manor for good.
In the end she could not. Cassius would not take the theft of his property well, and he would be sure to punish the bandit extensively. Especially a muggle-born like Lyle. He would be stymied at every turn, and she could not see him living happily in some drudge job. Lyle had ambition to equal any Slytherin, and their infatuation with each other was less than its equal.
"Dumbledore told me your new role." He said harshly.
"You disapprove." She said flatly.
"This isn't a game." He snapped. "You don't even have a wand, what makes you think you can do anything?"
"I can listen." She replied calmly.
"I can't dissuade you from this, can I?"
"When have you ever been able to discourage me from anything?" She retorted coolly.
He gave a long sigh.
"I can't understand why you would **want** to ---"
"And how is dearest Jamie and the baby?" She interrupted icily. He had the grace to flush at her question.
"So you're doing this for revenge."
"What else do I have left?"
He looked at her then, and he could see that the young girl that he'd wanted to marry, and the mostly docile wife of Cassius Malfoy had disappeared. In those eyes that had alternated between cold and agonized, there was now nothing but hate. It was an all-encompassing revulsion for the world and all the creatures in it. He had seen a small flash of it that night at the Shrieking Shack as she dueled with Sirius Black, but now that unchecked spark had grown into an inferno that encompassed the globe.
It pained him to realize that he felt guilty for placing her in such a situation, and that there was nothing he could do to make it right. He could not help her now, and perhaps he never had been able to.
He left her at her vigil by the graveside of her child. a child who would be only six months older than his soon-to-be Harry. He could not imagine what it would be like to lose one of the few things good in his world. There was Jamie, the arrival of Harry, and his friends. They were his safe harbor when his job, a gruesome one already, became even bleaker. There were moments when he thought that it was quite possible that You-Know-Who and his squadron of Death Eaters would win the war, and then there would be no safe place for Jamie, who made the mistake of marry and spawning with a mudblood.
Severus Snape was a ship without a safe port, and she was taking on water. He grimly realized that she would be another nameless death in this war.
***(-I-)**(-I-)***
Her first order of business was to go about becoming a full-fledged witch. She had already discussed this with Dumbledore, and it was agreed she would have to 'make up' the coursework she had missed (naturally on a faster paced schedule), and most importantly complete the exams she had missed. It was hard work, but labor she did gladly, after so many years of idleness.
Right now, however, she realized she was only doing it to delay the inevitable, and her recognition of it annoyed her.. When had she become such a simpering weak creature? Honestly, for all the airs that Lord Voldemort put on he was merely a simple street thug. She had nothing to fear from ---
Being a ruffian, she reminded herself, did not make his Avada Kedavra less deadly. She needed to make herself useful to him, currently she had the Malfoy fortune, and a quick look at the bank statements from previous months showed a considerable amount being removed by third parties unrelated, directly, from the Malfoy family account. She needed to convince him that the money was safer in her hands than Lucius'.
She turned to the dressing table's mirror, checking to ensure that she looked her best. She dressed in heavy black satin, and a black veil covered her hair and forehead. She looked the part of the grieving widow. If the bodice was cinched a little tighter it wasn't immediately recognizable.
She could do this, she told herself, and after smoothing another imaginary wrinkle in her skirt she headed downstairs in preparation for her Lord's visit.
The house elves were scurrying about re-dusting the furniture and fixtures they'd done twice already. Others were clattering about the kitchen, preparing the evening's seven-course meal; she could smell the artichoke soup out in the foyer.
Lucius looked at her with disgust as he stood patiently in front of the door. She had instructed him that he was not to attend the dinner, unless specifically asked. He undoubtedly suspected that she was plotting against him. and she was, but not specifically against him.
She curtsied low to suppress the urge to jump when Lord Voldemort, one of the most feared wizards of the age apparated in front of them. Lucius bowed low to his Lord, and explained that he had business elsewhere this night, and if he could please be excuse.
And just as Severus had hoped, Voldemort dismissed her stepson with a small flick of his gnarled hand. Lucius left quickly, and without reluctance. He obviously preferred the temperamental company of a pregnant Narcissa than the man he went to in the dark of the night.
She led him to the sitting room and sat him close to the fire. He was dressed in an extremely heavy cloak, which signaled to her that he was easily chilled. It was early summer, but Malfoy Manor was always slightly chilly due to the moist stones that composed the walls of the house. A low fire was going in the grate, and she subtly flicked her wand to raise the flames.
"Would you like anything to drink?" She asked softly, in the voice that Cassius and her Grandmother had taught her to use.
"Brandy," he said with a dismissing hand gesture.
She curtsied, even though he probably wouldn't see it, and went to the wet bar and fetched the best brandy and most delicate of snifters. She poured a healthy amount in, but not overmuch, and headed over to his chair. She kneeled down in front of him and offered him the glass, which he took with grace and delicately swirled before sipping.
He was just as she thought, just the same as any man. They all wanted to be kings, and were blind to others faults when they were treated as such. He was like an over-spoiled cat. you only had to rub him the right way.
"Dobby.dinner be ready m'am, sir." Said the stuttering house elf from the doorway.
"If milord so pleases?"
He looked at her raising an eyebrow at her as he downed the last of the brandy.
"This crouched position does not suit you, does it Madam Malfoy? I've watched you at many of Cassius' pompous soirées, and thought you nothing more than another over bred high-strung pureblood trophy. A symbol for the decay in our ranks." He pulled her face closer to his pallid one, and she hesitantly met his eyes. "It was really rather clever, considering Cassius' liking for simple women, I suppose it had to have been a matter of survival." He smirked. "After receiving your missive, I soon pieced together that poor widowed Madam Malfoy must not be as distraught over her husband's death after all." He pulled back from her, a superior look claiming dominance on his face. "Her grief, undoubtedly, was reserved for her 'light', her infant child that was slaughtered by the aurors. However, Madam Malfoy wasn't foolish enough to think that her stepson wouldn't wish to quickly rid himself of her and secure the fortune for himself. So she demands a meeting with his master. which is why I am here today." He stood, and she swiftly joined him.
"I do as you command." She said quietly.
"You would like revenge, would you not, against those who butchered your Jairus?" He asked quietly, staring at her intensely as she met his eyes once more.
"Yes." She said with vehemence that surprised her.
"The you will go to Dumbledore, the sentimental old man would undoubtedly love to see the return of one of his bright academic stars that had been stolen from him before he could absorb her glory. For me you will watch occurrences at the school, and report back via floo."
"Gladly, milord."
"Welcome to the Death Eaters," He said with amiability, offering his hand which she kissed. "Now, let us dine. We Dark Lords must eat, anarchy is simply not sustaining."
***(-I-)**(-I-)***
He was sharper than she thought, and she knew she would have to be even more careful. He obviously was not as easily fooled as she previously contemplated. Even though, her infiltration was a success and now she only had to notify Dumbledore. Returning to her bedroom, she sat down to continue her schoolwork, only to abandon it as she realized that her hands were shaking..
***(-I-)**(-I-)***
She re-read her essay for the fifth time, before determining that she could do no better and handed it to the practically twinkling Dumbledore. He was so bloody pleased that she was taking this test. although she felt that if she were less jaded, she'd probably just as happy.
"Now, as you know it will take awhile to receive your results, so shall we have tea until then?"
She amazed herself by saying yes.
***(-I-)**(-I-)***
AN: Next chapter will be set in the SS/PS timeline.
She could hear, in the distance, the murmurs of the lone Daily Prophet reporter as they wrote out something on their pad of parchment. The story was not that important, and she was glad of it in a way. She didn't need pity.
She caressed the small lock of ebony hair between her fingers, the only memento she had that the child she had carried for nine months had actually existed at all. Her mouth felt like it had been stuffed with ashes as she placed the precious strands back in her locket.
There were footsteps behind her, but she ignored them, dismissing them as someone visiting another grave. Only when a white rose was tossed gently on top of the casket did she turn to see the new visitor to the tiny tomb.
She would have recognized the carrot hair and emerald eyes anywhere. Lyle Evans: successful Auror, Hogwarts Head Boy of 1976, and ex-boyfriend. The first few months of her troublesome marriage she had entertained the thought of eloping like he had wanted. After some nights she would be on the verge of packing a small bag of clothing and snitching the nearest broom and abandoning Malfoy Manor for good.
In the end she could not. Cassius would not take the theft of his property well, and he would be sure to punish the bandit extensively. Especially a muggle-born like Lyle. He would be stymied at every turn, and she could not see him living happily in some drudge job. Lyle had ambition to equal any Slytherin, and their infatuation with each other was less than its equal.
"Dumbledore told me your new role." He said harshly.
"You disapprove." She said flatly.
"This isn't a game." He snapped. "You don't even have a wand, what makes you think you can do anything?"
"I can listen." She replied calmly.
"I can't dissuade you from this, can I?"
"When have you ever been able to discourage me from anything?" She retorted coolly.
He gave a long sigh.
"I can't understand why you would **want** to ---"
"And how is dearest Jamie and the baby?" She interrupted icily. He had the grace to flush at her question.
"So you're doing this for revenge."
"What else do I have left?"
He looked at her then, and he could see that the young girl that he'd wanted to marry, and the mostly docile wife of Cassius Malfoy had disappeared. In those eyes that had alternated between cold and agonized, there was now nothing but hate. It was an all-encompassing revulsion for the world and all the creatures in it. He had seen a small flash of it that night at the Shrieking Shack as she dueled with Sirius Black, but now that unchecked spark had grown into an inferno that encompassed the globe.
It pained him to realize that he felt guilty for placing her in such a situation, and that there was nothing he could do to make it right. He could not help her now, and perhaps he never had been able to.
He left her at her vigil by the graveside of her child. a child who would be only six months older than his soon-to-be Harry. He could not imagine what it would be like to lose one of the few things good in his world. There was Jamie, the arrival of Harry, and his friends. They were his safe harbor when his job, a gruesome one already, became even bleaker. There were moments when he thought that it was quite possible that You-Know-Who and his squadron of Death Eaters would win the war, and then there would be no safe place for Jamie, who made the mistake of marry and spawning with a mudblood.
Severus Snape was a ship without a safe port, and she was taking on water. He grimly realized that she would be another nameless death in this war.
***(-I-)**(-I-)***
Her first order of business was to go about becoming a full-fledged witch. She had already discussed this with Dumbledore, and it was agreed she would have to 'make up' the coursework she had missed (naturally on a faster paced schedule), and most importantly complete the exams she had missed. It was hard work, but labor she did gladly, after so many years of idleness.
Right now, however, she realized she was only doing it to delay the inevitable, and her recognition of it annoyed her.. When had she become such a simpering weak creature? Honestly, for all the airs that Lord Voldemort put on he was merely a simple street thug. She had nothing to fear from ---
Being a ruffian, she reminded herself, did not make his Avada Kedavra less deadly. She needed to make herself useful to him, currently she had the Malfoy fortune, and a quick look at the bank statements from previous months showed a considerable amount being removed by third parties unrelated, directly, from the Malfoy family account. She needed to convince him that the money was safer in her hands than Lucius'.
She turned to the dressing table's mirror, checking to ensure that she looked her best. She dressed in heavy black satin, and a black veil covered her hair and forehead. She looked the part of the grieving widow. If the bodice was cinched a little tighter it wasn't immediately recognizable.
She could do this, she told herself, and after smoothing another imaginary wrinkle in her skirt she headed downstairs in preparation for her Lord's visit.
The house elves were scurrying about re-dusting the furniture and fixtures they'd done twice already. Others were clattering about the kitchen, preparing the evening's seven-course meal; she could smell the artichoke soup out in the foyer.
Lucius looked at her with disgust as he stood patiently in front of the door. She had instructed him that he was not to attend the dinner, unless specifically asked. He undoubtedly suspected that she was plotting against him. and she was, but not specifically against him.
She curtsied low to suppress the urge to jump when Lord Voldemort, one of the most feared wizards of the age apparated in front of them. Lucius bowed low to his Lord, and explained that he had business elsewhere this night, and if he could please be excuse.
And just as Severus had hoped, Voldemort dismissed her stepson with a small flick of his gnarled hand. Lucius left quickly, and without reluctance. He obviously preferred the temperamental company of a pregnant Narcissa than the man he went to in the dark of the night.
She led him to the sitting room and sat him close to the fire. He was dressed in an extremely heavy cloak, which signaled to her that he was easily chilled. It was early summer, but Malfoy Manor was always slightly chilly due to the moist stones that composed the walls of the house. A low fire was going in the grate, and she subtly flicked her wand to raise the flames.
"Would you like anything to drink?" She asked softly, in the voice that Cassius and her Grandmother had taught her to use.
"Brandy," he said with a dismissing hand gesture.
She curtsied, even though he probably wouldn't see it, and went to the wet bar and fetched the best brandy and most delicate of snifters. She poured a healthy amount in, but not overmuch, and headed over to his chair. She kneeled down in front of him and offered him the glass, which he took with grace and delicately swirled before sipping.
He was just as she thought, just the same as any man. They all wanted to be kings, and were blind to others faults when they were treated as such. He was like an over-spoiled cat. you only had to rub him the right way.
"Dobby.dinner be ready m'am, sir." Said the stuttering house elf from the doorway.
"If milord so pleases?"
He looked at her raising an eyebrow at her as he downed the last of the brandy.
"This crouched position does not suit you, does it Madam Malfoy? I've watched you at many of Cassius' pompous soirées, and thought you nothing more than another over bred high-strung pureblood trophy. A symbol for the decay in our ranks." He pulled her face closer to his pallid one, and she hesitantly met his eyes. "It was really rather clever, considering Cassius' liking for simple women, I suppose it had to have been a matter of survival." He smirked. "After receiving your missive, I soon pieced together that poor widowed Madam Malfoy must not be as distraught over her husband's death after all." He pulled back from her, a superior look claiming dominance on his face. "Her grief, undoubtedly, was reserved for her 'light', her infant child that was slaughtered by the aurors. However, Madam Malfoy wasn't foolish enough to think that her stepson wouldn't wish to quickly rid himself of her and secure the fortune for himself. So she demands a meeting with his master. which is why I am here today." He stood, and she swiftly joined him.
"I do as you command." She said quietly.
"You would like revenge, would you not, against those who butchered your Jairus?" He asked quietly, staring at her intensely as she met his eyes once more.
"Yes." She said with vehemence that surprised her.
"The you will go to Dumbledore, the sentimental old man would undoubtedly love to see the return of one of his bright academic stars that had been stolen from him before he could absorb her glory. For me you will watch occurrences at the school, and report back via floo."
"Gladly, milord."
"Welcome to the Death Eaters," He said with amiability, offering his hand which she kissed. "Now, let us dine. We Dark Lords must eat, anarchy is simply not sustaining."
***(-I-)**(-I-)***
He was sharper than she thought, and she knew she would have to be even more careful. He obviously was not as easily fooled as she previously contemplated. Even though, her infiltration was a success and now she only had to notify Dumbledore. Returning to her bedroom, she sat down to continue her schoolwork, only to abandon it as she realized that her hands were shaking..
***(-I-)**(-I-)***
She re-read her essay for the fifth time, before determining that she could do no better and handed it to the practically twinkling Dumbledore. He was so bloody pleased that she was taking this test. although she felt that if she were less jaded, she'd probably just as happy.
"Now, as you know it will take awhile to receive your results, so shall we have tea until then?"
She amazed herself by saying yes.
***(-I-)**(-I-)***
AN: Next chapter will be set in the SS/PS timeline.