Tainted Love
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and Warner Bros. own all recognisable characters and storylines.
N/B: Proofread by Merlynne.
Tainted Love
Chapter Nine: Past Testimony
Cotehele House had been the seat of the Varvara family since the beginning of the sixteenth century. In the failing light Lucius looked up at its granite and slate walls, but very little could be read from his self-possessed stance. The riverside estate sat on the edge of the Cornish border, a place so deeply steeped in folklore, myth and Arthurian legend that the magic of this forgotten county was at times still strong enough for even Muggles to feel.
Thick woodland, and somewhere in the distance an old canal, encircled the house. No doubt growing up amid such natural beauty had some bearing on why Narcissa had always had such an obvious weakness for the Manor's extensive grounds. She was a country girl at heart; towns and cities held few temptations for her.
Lucius gazed at the shadow of what had once been a great house. Narcissa hadn't visited Cotehele for years; it was only bricks and mortar, why should she care for it at all? Something told him she probably would, and he was actually glad that his wife wasn't there to see what had become of her childhood home. Nevertheless Lucius quickly shrugged off this rare flicker of empathy.
Cotehele was falling into disrepair. Weeds choked the gardens and the large buildings themselves appeared to be slowly decaying, seeping slowly back into the ground. Windows were broken, but few were actually boarded up, like blinded eyes they stared out, unseeing, onto the ruined grounds around them.
Narcissa's grandfather had been an inventor of national renown. He had revolutionised the Silver Arrows racing broom line, which had been where he had made his money. Adrian did not share his father's talent for creation, or his prudent manner. By the time Narcissa came to marry most of the Varvara family fortune had been squandered by her father, usually on risky enterprises that rarely had the slightest chance of success!
A stone path led up to the house. It was covered by a few searching tendrils that were creeping from wild blackberry bushes. Lucius walked smartly up to the front door and rapped the top of his cane against the rotting wood. He waited only a short time before trying the handle. To his disbelief the door swung inwards without protest. Lucius hesitated only a moment before stepping into the gloomy interior. He strolled into the main hall. Behind him light slunk into the high-ceilinged room through cobwebs and the broken glass. One of the first things to strike Lucius was a huge family tree written painstakingly on yellowing parchment. He had seen it before, when Cotehele had still glittered and shone. It covered the full length of one wall from ceiling to floor, but strangely it was not the Varvara dynasty.
At the very top, so high it was almost unreadable, sat a name that was greatly coveted by wizard families worldwide - Morgan le Fay - an enchantress and healer, sister and bane of King Arthur, and the ruler of ancient Avalon. Lucius ran his sharp eyes over the paper; it was Narcissa's ancestry. Her mother could trace her family's lineage all the way back to Arthurian times, to the greatest families of that age. Narcissa was a descendent of one of the oldest, noblest, pureblood families. The ancestry on the wall was unusual, in that it passed down from mother to daughter, and ended, and would forever end, with the name of his wife.
Lucius envied his wife's pedigree. By marrying her he had refined the Malfoy line, but it was still irksome to think that her blood may be a little purer than his own! His envy was only slight. Narcissa could never claim to have married beneath herself; the Malfoy line was just as old as the le Fay's. Lucius nurtured a pleasant tingle of spite; over the centuries the le Fay dynasty had gradually fallen in rank. They had descended into the company of such families as the Varvara's, losing affluence and influence, but never ever respect or integrity, while the Malfoy line had steadily increased in wealth, power and status.
Turning away from the scroll-like genealogy Lucius walked further into the house. It was cold inside Cotehele. An unhealthy dampness had crept into the very heart of the building. A line of candelabra lit the dark, narrow corridors, but did little to add any cheer or warmth. Lucius followed them steadily as the portraits on the walls pointed and hissed at him, but none dared speak loudly enough for him to hear their exact words. He could guess their gist.
A sardonic smile lifted one corner of his mouth. Ah yes, of course he was to blame. He had shackled Narcissa to the Malfoys; he had dragged her down from the heavens. It was so very easy to believe in the innocence of beauty! Perversely, while he despised this condemnation, he would have liked to take credit for crafting the darkness in her soul.
Back at the Manor, Narcissa was not hungry. She had left the gardens soon after Lucius and retreated inside, but instead of calling Draco for dinner she made her way into the small study. It was her sanctuary, her refuge. The fireplace seemed to smirk as these thoughts tried to comfort her. Narcissa smiled without pleasure, no it was not her sanctuary; it was her station and she was its guard. A strange duty she had taken upon herself.
She sat stiffly in the window seat, facing into the room. Lucius had revealed the hidden vault to her shortly after their marriage. Narcissa pursed her lips thoughtfully, he must have been very sure of her! She could have still betrayed him then.
Rarely did she venture down into the basement. It was Lucius' territory, and she respected that; she had the gardens after all. But there was still something of her down there in the darkness. Belongings and secrets, deeds and temptations… Narcissa slowly rose to her feet. Perhaps she needn't sit here and wait, and again play the part of the passive observer? Her feet carried her instinctively to the fireplace. The grate wasn't lit, but she ran her suddenly hungry eyes over its tempting form.
"Alere Flammas," she whispered, with the slightest air of hesitation.
The hearth gave up its secret to her, and the hidden vault opened grindingly. Narcissa caught up her skirt resolutely and descended into the gloom below. The darkness didn't bother her much, and although she didn't like the damp, unkempt dreariness of the place she could just about bear it. 'It was…atmospheric, after all!' she reasoned with a small disdainful smile.
She didn't bother to draw her wand; the torches had erupted on her arrival and were tinged with a peculiar green glow. The little ghost girl scurried fretfully out of Narcissa's path as she made her way deeper into the labyrinth. She didn't travel as far as Lucius had, unknown to her, the night before. Instead she veered to the right and stopped in front of a set of dusty wooden shelves. She licked her lips and strained to see in the poor light for a little while, before whipping out her rosewood wand.
"Lumos," she said softly.
Her voice echoed eerily around the vast, twisting chamber, which was suddenly bathed in a silvery, iridescent light. She continued her search, and quickly found what it was that she was looking for; her fingers closed around a little velvet jewellery box. Narcissa picked it up and moved it into the wand light, she flipped open the lid and looked inside. There on the black cushioned inlay sat a tiny, sparkling hourglass hanging from a very fine gold chain. Narcissa picked up the Time-Turner tentatively. Should she use it? Her search had given her time to reflect. The day had affected her more than she was willing to admit, she was acting erratically.
Again she looked down at the delicate magical instrument. She could go back in time and stop herself cursing her father… No, as soon as this thought entered her head she banished it. She couldn't change history, and more importantly she didn't wish to. But she could go back and follow her father, find out where he was now and what Lucius was doing to him… No, she could have gone with Lucius; he wouldn't have stopped her.
"He probably would have liked the opportunity to show off!" she said aloud, to no one in particular.
The curious, wispy figure of the little ghost girl glanced at her reproachfully. Narcissa snapped the lid shut and put the Time-Turner back down on a cluttered shelf. The Time-Turner was hers. That pleased her, and annoyed Lucius. Little things gave her solace.
"Strange, isn't it?" she mused. The ghostly child cocked her head and listened, Narcissa indulged her audience. "Deep down, I know he is right, I know he has only gone to protect us, and yet all I can do is hate him for undermining me." She smiled a little, as if understanding this fact had soothed her mind.
Lucius had followed the candlelight all the way to what he knew to be the drawing room. The door to this room was open and a pale flickering light bathed the interior in a weak, sickly glow.
"How dare you enter this house!" breathed a frail voice from inside the shadowy room.
Lucius was momentarily surprised, but of course it would have been easy for Mr Varvara to hear him walking through the empty corridors.
"What was that, Adrian?" smiled Lucius insolently. He stepped into the room. Mr Varvara was sat, rather hunched, in a high-backed armchair, his wand was pointed squarely at Lucius' chest, but his hand was trembling very slightly.
"You're not welcome here, Malfoy!" he snarled.
"Have I ever been welcome here?" drawled Lucius sarcastically. He dragged a gloved finger through the dust on the mantelpiece, his father-in-law watched, bristling with anger.
"You'll never get your hands on Cotehele! I'll see to that!"
"Why would I want anything to do with such a decrepit estate?" sneered Lucius, brushing the dirt off his hands. Adrian Varvara flushed a nasty colour. He seemed to take a moment to gather his thoughts.
"Why are you here, Malfoy? I haven't had the displeasure of your company for years," he spat. "Or have you come to finish me off?"
"I think you know the answer to that," Lucius replied in a light tone of voice that did not match the intensity of his eyes. "I don't think you would have let me stroll straight into your home if you'd believed for one minute that I was here to kill you."
"My daughter's still got you wrapped around her little finger then?" laughed Adrian Varvara maliciously. A muscle twitched in Lucius' jaw. "Bitch!" Adrian suddenly swore reminiscently. "She tried to kill me today! You think I'll forget that in a hurry?!" he threatened.
"You would be dead if she had meant to kill you," countered Lucius evenly.
"So I should be thankful she merely crippled me?" roared Mr Varvara. He drew a few heavy, composing breaths. "You shouldn't have sided with her, because one day Malfoy, you and I," he motioned between himself and his son-in-law with his wand, "well, one of us will have to finish off the other."
"Oh I quite agree," breathed Lucius disinterestedly. Exactly why that should be, was not explained by either man at that moment.
"And I already have a head start," murmured Mr Varvara, but Lucius was paying little heed to his words. He was watching his father-in-law loosen his grip on his wand, leaving it to rest on the padded arm of his chair. "So, what do you want?
"You upset my wife today," remarked Lucius blandly.
"She was my daughter long before she had anything to do with you!" spat Mr Varvara.
"An unfortunate fact that I strive not to hold against her."
"She should never have married you!"
"No," smiled Lucius, "she ruined your plans didn't she? Your great Ministry ambitions quashed," he paused. "It would have been so much easier for you if she had married Crouch. You could have used him to finally claw your way out of your own father's shadow, but let's be honest, it wasn't much of a shadow to begin with, was it?"
"You bas-"
"Careful," breathed Lucius, "or would you like another lesson in pain?"
Adrian Varvara blanched as he remembered with sudden vivacity what his daughter had put him through that afternoon. He clutched at his wand in vain, because all he managed to do in his frantic, panicky state was to knock it onto the floor. Lucius gave him a quelling look as he drew his own wand.
"Crucio!"
This time the old man did manage to scream. His blood-curdling cry filled the whole house as his body slid off the chair and onto the cold floor. Lucius broke the spell; his face was set in a stony mask of resolve.
"You may have forgotten Adrian, but I have not. You see I remember what you did to me twelve years ago," he hissed, his eyes burning with unquenchable hatred. He raised his wand again. "Obliviate!"
Narcissa paced the sumptuous living room. What was taking Lucius so long? He wouldn't do anything too drastic, would he? She knew he hated her father, and with good reason. Narcissa didn't flatter herself; she didn't dare suppose her husband's hatred had anything to do with her. She didn't believe that the fact her father had regularly beaten her to within an inch of her life was the kind of thing that rattled Lucius.
What enraged Lucius was the fact that it had been Adrian Varvara's testimony that had sent him to Azkaban. He could not bear to think that a man he considered so far beneath himself had managed to outsmart him!
But the fact Adrian Varvara was still alive did have something to do with his daughter. Soon after her marriage Narcissa had realised that to kill her father would leave a huge hole in her life, to snuff out the root of so much hatred, what would she have left? It hadn't mattered much to Lucius at first, but then Adrian had gone and crossed his son-in-law!
It hadn't been easy to make Lucius swear not to murder her father, but after his eventual release from the widely feared wizard prison he had had immense cause to be grateful to his wife. Narcissa sometimes wondered what other promises she could have held him to; it was a strange quirk of her husband's, but once genuinely given he found it almost painful to break his word.
So where was he now? Narcissa sat down and then stood straight back up. She let him get inside her head far too often! She left the living room, once again thinking longingly about the Time-Turner, but instead of going back to the small study she made her way to the main staircase and couldn't help recalling how the wondrous little thing had come into her possession to start with…
…She had felt literally sick with worry - pacing the corridors, lingering in the Slytherin common room, waiting for an opportunity to speak to Severus unseen. He seemed to be purposefully avoiding her!
In a few short days she was supposed to meet Lord Voldemort for the very first time, but at exactly the same moment she was due to take her NEWT potions exam! Missing a personal engagement with the Dark Lord was unthinkable, but slipping out of Hogwarts under the nose of Albus Dumbledore was no easy feat either!
It was after midnight, Narcissa was sitting alone in the Slytherin common room, pouring over her Charms notes. She looked up with a slight start as the hidden stone door that led into the common room slid open.
"I need your help," she blurted out at the pupil who'd just slunk into the chamber. Severus Snape stared jadedly at Narcissa.
"Yes," he said slowly. "I know."
"Well, how am I going to sneak out without Dumbledore knowing?" she demanded, with almost hysterical nervousness.
"That is the wrong question. The question is: how are you going to be in two places at once?" Narcissa frowned in confusion. Severus sighed impatiently. "You can't miss your exam, that would be far too suspicious."
"All right," agreed Narcissa slowly. All her ill formed plans had been based around this idea, now she was forced to contemplate a whole new scheme. "Well if you're willing to help me now," she began acidly. "I read something about a potion," she mumbled, pushing her notes aside she reached for one of her textbooks, which she began to flick through. "It gives the drinker the physical form of another I think-"
"I'm not taking your exam for you," Severus snapped sharply. "Besides the Polyjuice potion takes a month to brew."
Narcissa looked up from the thick book.
"How do you know that?" she exclaimed. "It's not normal!"
"Remind me, why am I helping you?" snarled the boy.
"Who else would finance your little schemes?" Narcissa asked sweetly. Severus sat down in a leather armchair and glared viciously at her. "So are you going to help or not?" she demanded.
Unwillingly Severus took a little black box out of his pocket and threw it roughly at Narcissa. She caught it awkwardly and then stared at it in surprise.
"What-"
"Open it," he ordered brusquely.
She obeyed. Hanging from a very long, delicate gold chain was what appeared to be a miniature, glistening hourglass. Narcissa fingered it uncertainly.
"Is that a-a Time-Turner?" she stammered glancing at Severus. He nodded. "I thought the Ministry kept close tabs on them all! How did you get hold of it?" she asked in disbelief.
"Just one of my little schemes," he sneered unpleasantly. "Wear it like a necklace, take your potions exam as normal, then turn it twice, you'll travel back in time just far enough to make your meeting with the Dark Lord. You'll need to get yourself to Hogsmeade; someone will be waiting for you in the Hog's Head." Severus hissed all of these instructions in a very low very fast voice.
Narcissa gave one little stilted nod; a lump had formed in her throat making it difficult to speak. Excitement was turning slowly to apprehension, what exactly was she getting involved in?
Narcissa shrugged off the memory and pushed open the door to her son's room a fraction. It was later than she'd thought, time had a cruel way of toying with her sometimes. The darkness of the room told her that Draco had already gone to sleep. She noticed that the mound in the centre of his bed was slowly rising and falling in the gentle state of slumber.
She had told the cook to send him up something for supper and she really hoped he'd done some of the homework that she had asked him to start. Perhaps tomorrow she would check. Narcissa closed the door with a gentle click and felt the air in the house stir. Her heart gave a funny little skip. She moved quickly along the dusky passageway and caught Lucius walking up the stairs.
"What did you do?" she asked immediately. Lucius looked up with a start. He seemed almost surprised to see her.
"I merely modified his memory," he said easily, stopping where he was, which was halfway up the stairs. Narcissa narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"You took your time."
"Were you worried?" he laughed mockingly as he climbed the rest of the steps. "I think I can handle your father."
"He's tricky, Lucius," said Narcissa seriously. "I can't understand how he found me in the first place."
"Your mother?" shrugged Lucius carelessly as he stifled a yawn.
"She wouldn't have known where to send him," argued Narcissa. She wished that she could make him take this matter seriously without embarrassing herself.
"Well, perhaps someone was following you," he smirked at her.
"You may well laugh-"
"I just don't see the point in worrying about it," he replied lazily, but then he seemed to actually stop and look at Narcissa. "He still frightens you, doesn't he?" Lucius asked, his voice low. Narcissa froze. She felt like all the breath had been stolen from her lungs, she was barely aware of his arms closing around her, or the way his chin was suddenly resting on the crown of her head. "Let me take care of him for you?" he whispered, his breath stirring her hair.
"No," she murmured.
"He's still hurting you."
"No," she said again, this time her voice was just a little stronger. "That has nothing to do with your thirst for revenge."
Lucius stayed silent for a surprisingly long length of time. Narcissa concentrated on glaring at his chest. Did he really think she would just crumble and give in? Something brushed against the top of her hair. His chin, not his lips, not his lips, she argued before hearing him say softly:
"You're a harsh judge, Narcissa."
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