* * * Twenty Years Later * * *
Narcissa Black (now Narcissa Malfoy) woke in the middle of the night with a frightened start. Someone was in her room. And it was Lucius.
Where was Lucius? He'd been gone for hours, ever since he had left during dinner. He hadn't explained anything – only picked up his wand and said, "I must leave, Narcissa."
"Where are you going?" she had asked, rising to her feet.
"None of your business!" Lucius had snapped.
Narcissa had sat down quickly. Twenty years with Lucius had taught her not to argue with Lucius when he was in a mood – or at all, really. That one slap had only been the beginning...
"When will you be back?" she had asked quietly.
Lucius hadn't bothered to answer. He had merely opened the door to the dining room and swept out.
* * *
Narcissa had been idle for the rest of the night. She was filled with an odd sensation that something was not right. With nothing to do and too much on her mind, she had penned at letter to her fifteen-year-old son, Draco, who was away at school. The months were lonely, and she longed to see him again. But she was glad he was at school.
Ever since Draco had been born, Lucius had hinted that he wasn't a proper son, not good enough for the name Malfoy. Once he had even hinted that he was "Lupin's son". Narcissa had flown at him in a rage – that little antic had cost her a broken jaw.
So yes, it was better that Draco was away. But Narcissa missed him. After years of living without love, she had thought she would never need it. That brief time with Remus had made her realize that not only did she need love, she longed for it with every fiber of her being. She knew she would love Remus for the rest of her life. Consequently, she was doomed to never love another.
Until Draco was born.
The minute the healer had placed the baby boy in Narcissa's arms, she had fallen completely head-over-heels in love. Never mind that Lucius wasn't the man of her choice. This baby she would love so purely, she would never long for anything again. Oh, she would always love Remus, deep inside her heart where all of her deepest longings lay, but she was going to feel again – she was going to love this baby more than anything in the world. She loved everything about him – from the flaxen hair on his head to his little pointed nose, to his cornflower blue eyes that eventually paled into his father's gray.
But when Draco was four – that was when Narcissa and Lucius had had the horrible confrontation over him.
Narcissa had been visiting her parents, a visit of duty more than out of love. Her parents had not been the same since Bellatrix and Rodolphus had been imprisoned three years earlier. Andromeda was pleading with them for forgiveness, but they still would not give it – not even when she showed them a picture of her seven-year-old daughter, Nymphadora, a charming little girl with blue braids, a Metamorphmagus, as Narcissa had heard. Their hearts were as cold as stone, Narcissa had thought, as she left their house.
When she came home, the Malfoy mansion was dark. No servant greeted her at the door to take her coat. No laughing, sunny-faced little boy ran to her for a hug. With a sense of foreboding, Narcissa began a long, slow walk up the stairs, calling for her son, even for her husband.
Outside of Lucius' study, she had paused. There was the sound of muffled shouting, and a little boy's sobs. Narcissa's heart clenched and she flung open the door.
Draco was crouched on the floor, his hands covering his baby blonde hair, tears streaming down his face. Lucius was pounding him with his signature walking stick, shouting angrily at him.
"My son will not be seen in the company of Mudbloods! Do you understand, Draco? Do you? Do you?"
"No!" Narcissa screamed, "Don't hit him!" She darted across the floor and started beating Lucius with her fists, "Don't hurt him, Lucius! Stop it!"
WHAM! Lucius brought his stick down on her head. Narcissa fell to the floor, stunned. With a shuddering cry, Draco fled to his mother, throwing his little arms around her and howling in terror and pain. Blindly, Narcissa felt around him and drew him close, shielding him with her body.
Lucius was breathing heavily. He threw the stick aside and yanked Narcissa to her feet with one hand, "Don't you ever defy me again in front of our son," he hissed.
"I cannot let you hurt him!" she cried shrilly, "I can't let you hurt our son, Lucius! For God's sake, he's only a baby!"
"He is four years old, that is quite old enough to know what is expected of him, and to know to obey his father without question!"
"It is not right for you to hurt him!"
"I will discipline my son as I see fit!" Lucius seethed, clenching Narcissa's fist so hard that she was sure it was going to break between his fingers. She winced. At her feet, Draco continued rocking back and forth, crying hard.
"As long as I have breath in my body," Narcissa whispered, "I cannot let you harm my son."
Lucius stared at her with new eyes, knowing at last that she spoke nothing but the plain and simple truth. She was shorter than him by nearly a head, and she was much thinner and not very strong, but he knew that as long as she was alive, he could not hurt their son.
"Then you shall not see him," he said decidedly.
Narcissa's blue eyes widened, "What?"
"If you will not let me handle my own son," he said simply, "then I shall remove you from his presence."
"You...you cannot do that," Narcissa whispered.
"I can and I will," Lucius replied, "From now on, your time with Draco is restricted to an hour a week. And you will obey this rule, Narcissa. When you are with Draco, you will limit your conversation to talk about the weather and about his lessons – that is sufficient. I will make sure that the house elf watches you together." He paused, "You may, if you wish, observe his fencing lessons; I have no problems with that arrangement. But other than that, you will not interfere."
He let her wrist go and picked up Draco.
"I shall have Dobby move your quarters to the West Wing of the house," he said offhandedly, "There you will not be disturbed by Draco's childish needs."
And he walked out of the room, with a sobbing child hanging over his shoulder. Narcissa dropped her face into her hands and cried bitterly. For only the second time in her life, she had lost the most precious person in her life.
* * *
Life had gone on in this pattern for years. Draco and Narcissa rarely spoke, and when they did, it was of the weather or his lessons. Sometimes he would come in and lean against his plush chair gingerly, as if he were in pain, and Narcissa knew that Lucius' methods of discipline had not changed one iota. The times she liked best were his fencing lessons.
Under the tutelage of Monsieur du Bois, Narcissa's old fencing master, Draco had become a very avid fencer. When she was younger, Narcissa had been Girls' Champion of Western England, but she could see, with pride, that Draco was going to surpass her.
There was little else she could be proud of in Draco, Narcissa thought often, with a terrible sadness in her heart. Years of being raised only by his father had made Draco hard and cold and bitter, just as she was sure Lucius had learned from his father. He was sullen and quiet most of the time, imperious with the servants, and a poor student, for the most part. She was terribly sad that it had come to this. Draco had had so much potential, and now she felt that Lucius had ruined him.
But there was still time...there was always time. But would Lucius ever remove his viselike grip from Draco's upbringing?
But none of these things were going through Narcissa's mind as she stared into the blackness of her bedroom, her hand on the cold place where Lucius' body should have been.
"Who is there?" she whispered hoarsely. "Show yourself!"
Silence.
"I demand that you answer me!" Narcissa said, louder now, trying to hide a quavering voice. "As you wish."
A light went on, blinding her with its brightness. She shielded her eyes from the glare and stared. Standing at the foot of her bed were several members of the Ministry's Magical Law Enforcement.
"You need to come with us, Mrs. Malfoy," one of them said grimly.
* * *
"I didn't have anything to do with it," Narcissa protested for what felt like the millionth time that night, "You have to believe me, please."
"We're trying to believe you," one of the wizards said, a man with sandy blonde hair who was staring around the room wearily, "But you have to admit, Mrs. Malfoy, that although there is no evidence that you were allied with the Death Eaters, your husband's conduct around you has been nothing but disastrous."
"What he's saying," broke in a dark-haired wizard with steely eyes, "is that it's hard for us to believe that you knew nothing about what was going on."
"But I didn't," Narcissa whispered, "I didn't. You have to believe me."
She wrapped her arms around her white dressing robe. Its velvet-lined silk was no match against the chilling cold of the little cell which they had brought her to in order to interrogate her. She pushed a stray lock of blonde hair out of her face and looked miserable.
"Your sister is Bellatrix Lestrange, is that true, Mrs. Malfoy?" the sandy- haired wizard asked.
"You asked me that already."
"Answer the question!" said the dark-haired one.
"Yes," Narcissa snapped, "Yes, yes, yes! But we haven't spoken since she was arrested, and not for nearly a year before that, either!"
"And your husband?" the dark wizard demanded, "What of him?"
"I told you," Narcissa said wearily, "I knew that he was hiding something. I was sure it was infidelity or the like, since he'd been exonerated years before. I was sure he wouldn't do something so stupid again."
"Your son?" the sandy wizard checked a file, "A Draco Malfoy? What about him?"
"Draco?" Narcissa shook her head, "Draco's a child, he's but fifteen. There's no way that he's involved in any of this."
"How do you know?"
Narcissa stared up at the man, "Interrogate him if you wish. He's coming home in three days, on the Hogwarts Express." "We will do that," the dark wizard said.
The sandy wizard gave him a look, "I think we've said all that needs to be said here," He said warmly, "You can go, Mrs. Malfoy. I'm sorry to give you such a shock."
It's not a shock, Narcissa thought as she left the building, heading towards the stop for the Knight Bus. It's a relief. Lucius was going to prison for life. She would never be harmed again.
Now all that was needed was to reconcile with Draco.
* * *
Narcissa never went to meet Draco on the Hogwarts Express. She was especially glad that she wasn't going to meet him today. She had received an owl from a servant that he had been hexed very badly by a few of his classmates and had had to be un-hexed at the train station.
"He was very angry, my lady," the young maid had said, shivering, when she related the story. "He was yelling at young Harry Potter, saying that he'd get him for landing his father in prison if it was the last thing he ever did. He's in a dreadful humor, my lady, I don't recommend going to see him tonight."
"I must see him," Narcissa had said helplessly, "I have to make him understand. He has to know...that life is going to be different from now on. And that his father wasn't the good man that he brought Draco up to believe that he was."
For the first time in the twenty years she had been married to Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa went into her son's room without looking impeccable. Her long blonde hair was hanging in ringlets around her face; she wore no makeup and an older dress that Lucius had forbidden her to wear in his presence. She twisted her fingers into each other, her old nervous habit coming back.
She was thirty-six years old, and she didn't know how to speak to her only son.
She pushed open his door.
Draco was sitting at his desk, staring at something in front of him. A book. Narcissa hadn't known that Draco liked to read; in fact, his poor grammar often disputed it. But no – he wasn't reading, he was writing. He was keeping a journal. Was he writing his anger and humiliation at his father's arrest? Narcissa's face burned to think of what she was about to do.
"Draco," she said simply.
He turned and looked at her.
Narcissa had not known what to expect when Draco took his first look at her since he came home, his first glance at her without his father's tyrannical hand over him. She had prepared herself for anger, humiliation, disgust, fury, a whole bunch of emotions that she did not know how to handle. But she wasn't prepared for the look of tired relief and adoration on his face when he gazed upon her.
"Mother," he replied by way of a greeting.
Maybe he's delusional, Narcissa thought desperately. Maybe something's wrong with him. Maybe he needs some help. I must be gentle.
"There's something I have to tell you," she began awkwardly.
But Draco only shook his head.
"Father's never coming home," he said, "And from now on, you're free."
And he stood up, walked across the floor, and into the arms of the mother he'd longed for since the day he was four years old.
Narcissa Black (now Narcissa Malfoy) woke in the middle of the night with a frightened start. Someone was in her room. And it was Lucius.
Where was Lucius? He'd been gone for hours, ever since he had left during dinner. He hadn't explained anything – only picked up his wand and said, "I must leave, Narcissa."
"Where are you going?" she had asked, rising to her feet.
"None of your business!" Lucius had snapped.
Narcissa had sat down quickly. Twenty years with Lucius had taught her not to argue with Lucius when he was in a mood – or at all, really. That one slap had only been the beginning...
"When will you be back?" she had asked quietly.
Lucius hadn't bothered to answer. He had merely opened the door to the dining room and swept out.
* * *
Narcissa had been idle for the rest of the night. She was filled with an odd sensation that something was not right. With nothing to do and too much on her mind, she had penned at letter to her fifteen-year-old son, Draco, who was away at school. The months were lonely, and she longed to see him again. But she was glad he was at school.
Ever since Draco had been born, Lucius had hinted that he wasn't a proper son, not good enough for the name Malfoy. Once he had even hinted that he was "Lupin's son". Narcissa had flown at him in a rage – that little antic had cost her a broken jaw.
So yes, it was better that Draco was away. But Narcissa missed him. After years of living without love, she had thought she would never need it. That brief time with Remus had made her realize that not only did she need love, she longed for it with every fiber of her being. She knew she would love Remus for the rest of her life. Consequently, she was doomed to never love another.
Until Draco was born.
The minute the healer had placed the baby boy in Narcissa's arms, she had fallen completely head-over-heels in love. Never mind that Lucius wasn't the man of her choice. This baby she would love so purely, she would never long for anything again. Oh, she would always love Remus, deep inside her heart where all of her deepest longings lay, but she was going to feel again – she was going to love this baby more than anything in the world. She loved everything about him – from the flaxen hair on his head to his little pointed nose, to his cornflower blue eyes that eventually paled into his father's gray.
But when Draco was four – that was when Narcissa and Lucius had had the horrible confrontation over him.
Narcissa had been visiting her parents, a visit of duty more than out of love. Her parents had not been the same since Bellatrix and Rodolphus had been imprisoned three years earlier. Andromeda was pleading with them for forgiveness, but they still would not give it – not even when she showed them a picture of her seven-year-old daughter, Nymphadora, a charming little girl with blue braids, a Metamorphmagus, as Narcissa had heard. Their hearts were as cold as stone, Narcissa had thought, as she left their house.
When she came home, the Malfoy mansion was dark. No servant greeted her at the door to take her coat. No laughing, sunny-faced little boy ran to her for a hug. With a sense of foreboding, Narcissa began a long, slow walk up the stairs, calling for her son, even for her husband.
Outside of Lucius' study, she had paused. There was the sound of muffled shouting, and a little boy's sobs. Narcissa's heart clenched and she flung open the door.
Draco was crouched on the floor, his hands covering his baby blonde hair, tears streaming down his face. Lucius was pounding him with his signature walking stick, shouting angrily at him.
"My son will not be seen in the company of Mudbloods! Do you understand, Draco? Do you? Do you?"
"No!" Narcissa screamed, "Don't hit him!" She darted across the floor and started beating Lucius with her fists, "Don't hurt him, Lucius! Stop it!"
WHAM! Lucius brought his stick down on her head. Narcissa fell to the floor, stunned. With a shuddering cry, Draco fled to his mother, throwing his little arms around her and howling in terror and pain. Blindly, Narcissa felt around him and drew him close, shielding him with her body.
Lucius was breathing heavily. He threw the stick aside and yanked Narcissa to her feet with one hand, "Don't you ever defy me again in front of our son," he hissed.
"I cannot let you hurt him!" she cried shrilly, "I can't let you hurt our son, Lucius! For God's sake, he's only a baby!"
"He is four years old, that is quite old enough to know what is expected of him, and to know to obey his father without question!"
"It is not right for you to hurt him!"
"I will discipline my son as I see fit!" Lucius seethed, clenching Narcissa's fist so hard that she was sure it was going to break between his fingers. She winced. At her feet, Draco continued rocking back and forth, crying hard.
"As long as I have breath in my body," Narcissa whispered, "I cannot let you harm my son."
Lucius stared at her with new eyes, knowing at last that she spoke nothing but the plain and simple truth. She was shorter than him by nearly a head, and she was much thinner and not very strong, but he knew that as long as she was alive, he could not hurt their son.
"Then you shall not see him," he said decidedly.
Narcissa's blue eyes widened, "What?"
"If you will not let me handle my own son," he said simply, "then I shall remove you from his presence."
"You...you cannot do that," Narcissa whispered.
"I can and I will," Lucius replied, "From now on, your time with Draco is restricted to an hour a week. And you will obey this rule, Narcissa. When you are with Draco, you will limit your conversation to talk about the weather and about his lessons – that is sufficient. I will make sure that the house elf watches you together." He paused, "You may, if you wish, observe his fencing lessons; I have no problems with that arrangement. But other than that, you will not interfere."
He let her wrist go and picked up Draco.
"I shall have Dobby move your quarters to the West Wing of the house," he said offhandedly, "There you will not be disturbed by Draco's childish needs."
And he walked out of the room, with a sobbing child hanging over his shoulder. Narcissa dropped her face into her hands and cried bitterly. For only the second time in her life, she had lost the most precious person in her life.
* * *
Life had gone on in this pattern for years. Draco and Narcissa rarely spoke, and when they did, it was of the weather or his lessons. Sometimes he would come in and lean against his plush chair gingerly, as if he were in pain, and Narcissa knew that Lucius' methods of discipline had not changed one iota. The times she liked best were his fencing lessons.
Under the tutelage of Monsieur du Bois, Narcissa's old fencing master, Draco had become a very avid fencer. When she was younger, Narcissa had been Girls' Champion of Western England, but she could see, with pride, that Draco was going to surpass her.
There was little else she could be proud of in Draco, Narcissa thought often, with a terrible sadness in her heart. Years of being raised only by his father had made Draco hard and cold and bitter, just as she was sure Lucius had learned from his father. He was sullen and quiet most of the time, imperious with the servants, and a poor student, for the most part. She was terribly sad that it had come to this. Draco had had so much potential, and now she felt that Lucius had ruined him.
But there was still time...there was always time. But would Lucius ever remove his viselike grip from Draco's upbringing?
But none of these things were going through Narcissa's mind as she stared into the blackness of her bedroom, her hand on the cold place where Lucius' body should have been.
"Who is there?" she whispered hoarsely. "Show yourself!"
Silence.
"I demand that you answer me!" Narcissa said, louder now, trying to hide a quavering voice. "As you wish."
A light went on, blinding her with its brightness. She shielded her eyes from the glare and stared. Standing at the foot of her bed were several members of the Ministry's Magical Law Enforcement.
"You need to come with us, Mrs. Malfoy," one of them said grimly.
* * *
"I didn't have anything to do with it," Narcissa protested for what felt like the millionth time that night, "You have to believe me, please."
"We're trying to believe you," one of the wizards said, a man with sandy blonde hair who was staring around the room wearily, "But you have to admit, Mrs. Malfoy, that although there is no evidence that you were allied with the Death Eaters, your husband's conduct around you has been nothing but disastrous."
"What he's saying," broke in a dark-haired wizard with steely eyes, "is that it's hard for us to believe that you knew nothing about what was going on."
"But I didn't," Narcissa whispered, "I didn't. You have to believe me."
She wrapped her arms around her white dressing robe. Its velvet-lined silk was no match against the chilling cold of the little cell which they had brought her to in order to interrogate her. She pushed a stray lock of blonde hair out of her face and looked miserable.
"Your sister is Bellatrix Lestrange, is that true, Mrs. Malfoy?" the sandy- haired wizard asked.
"You asked me that already."
"Answer the question!" said the dark-haired one.
"Yes," Narcissa snapped, "Yes, yes, yes! But we haven't spoken since she was arrested, and not for nearly a year before that, either!"
"And your husband?" the dark wizard demanded, "What of him?"
"I told you," Narcissa said wearily, "I knew that he was hiding something. I was sure it was infidelity or the like, since he'd been exonerated years before. I was sure he wouldn't do something so stupid again."
"Your son?" the sandy wizard checked a file, "A Draco Malfoy? What about him?"
"Draco?" Narcissa shook her head, "Draco's a child, he's but fifteen. There's no way that he's involved in any of this."
"How do you know?"
Narcissa stared up at the man, "Interrogate him if you wish. He's coming home in three days, on the Hogwarts Express." "We will do that," the dark wizard said.
The sandy wizard gave him a look, "I think we've said all that needs to be said here," He said warmly, "You can go, Mrs. Malfoy. I'm sorry to give you such a shock."
It's not a shock, Narcissa thought as she left the building, heading towards the stop for the Knight Bus. It's a relief. Lucius was going to prison for life. She would never be harmed again.
Now all that was needed was to reconcile with Draco.
* * *
Narcissa never went to meet Draco on the Hogwarts Express. She was especially glad that she wasn't going to meet him today. She had received an owl from a servant that he had been hexed very badly by a few of his classmates and had had to be un-hexed at the train station.
"He was very angry, my lady," the young maid had said, shivering, when she related the story. "He was yelling at young Harry Potter, saying that he'd get him for landing his father in prison if it was the last thing he ever did. He's in a dreadful humor, my lady, I don't recommend going to see him tonight."
"I must see him," Narcissa had said helplessly, "I have to make him understand. He has to know...that life is going to be different from now on. And that his father wasn't the good man that he brought Draco up to believe that he was."
For the first time in the twenty years she had been married to Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa went into her son's room without looking impeccable. Her long blonde hair was hanging in ringlets around her face; she wore no makeup and an older dress that Lucius had forbidden her to wear in his presence. She twisted her fingers into each other, her old nervous habit coming back.
She was thirty-six years old, and she didn't know how to speak to her only son.
She pushed open his door.
Draco was sitting at his desk, staring at something in front of him. A book. Narcissa hadn't known that Draco liked to read; in fact, his poor grammar often disputed it. But no – he wasn't reading, he was writing. He was keeping a journal. Was he writing his anger and humiliation at his father's arrest? Narcissa's face burned to think of what she was about to do.
"Draco," she said simply.
He turned and looked at her.
Narcissa had not known what to expect when Draco took his first look at her since he came home, his first glance at her without his father's tyrannical hand over him. She had prepared herself for anger, humiliation, disgust, fury, a whole bunch of emotions that she did not know how to handle. But she wasn't prepared for the look of tired relief and adoration on his face when he gazed upon her.
"Mother," he replied by way of a greeting.
Maybe he's delusional, Narcissa thought desperately. Maybe something's wrong with him. Maybe he needs some help. I must be gentle.
"There's something I have to tell you," she began awkwardly.
But Draco only shook his head.
"Father's never coming home," he said, "And from now on, you're free."
And he stood up, walked across the floor, and into the arms of the mother he'd longed for since the day he was four years old.