Chapter 8
The Mistress of Malfoy Manor
By aulizia and kirixchi
Travelling by floo always left Narcissa queasy so she wondered at first if she was still a little woozy when she first stepped out of the grate. She had arrived in what had to be the largest drawing room ever contrived by wizarding kind. The ceilings were fifteen feet high, at least, capping walls covered in dark wood panelling and crimson silk. In the centre hung a brass and crystal chandelier so huge that it dwarfed the chairs and sofas groups into small clustered in the room below. The furniture itself was exquisite: heavy, richly carved antiques that bore not the slightest sign of wear. The polished floor was covered in Aubussinian rugs. The only possible critique was that it was dark- thick velvet curtains blocked out all but the faintest light. Taken together, it effortlessly eclipsed every other dwelling she had ever seen.
She must have been staring. Lucius, his anger beginning to fade, cast her an anxious look. "Narcissa?" he asked in a gentle voice.
She hardened herself against his civil tone. "Ah, so it does exist," she snapped snidely. Then, lofting her chin to indicate that she was not impressed, she stepped gingerly out of the floo.
Lucius frowned at her response. He admitted that he was partial to his own home, but he knew that his pride was not misplaced. Narcissa was trying deliberately to be difficult.
He couldn't understand why she was miffish. It was, of course, at least partially attributable to the way he had carted her out of her home, but she had been angry before that, refusing his extraordinarily reasonable request to speak to her alone, so it must have been something else.
Try as he might, however, Lucius could think of nothing he had done that should have sent her out of sorts. He had kept his word. He had left her completely to her own devices as she finished school. Surely she wasn't finding fault with that?
Perhaps she was? Lucius could recall at least two instances during their brief, unsatisfactory reunion when she had made a pointed remark at never being invited to the Manor before. Perhaps she was right? He ought to have invited her down for dinner or tea? But did she really need to wait for an invitation?
Narcissa twisted toward him, making a little, impatient sound. "Well, I assume there's more than one room?" She huffed. "Or is this where I'm meant to sleep?"
No, this was not where she was meant to sleep, Lucius thought lustily as he drank in her form once more. He'd had no idea that two years could make so much difference. If he had…well, it was probably best not to think of what might have happened in that event. It had been hard enough to keep his promise before - and that was when his memories of Narcissa were only as a scrawny, teenaged girl!
"This way," he growled quietly, not trusting himself to say more, or even to take her arm as he led her to the hall.
Narcissa was grateful that her husband walked a little ahead, because it was becoming more and more impossible to hide her outright awe. They passed at least two other drawing rooms and a music room on their way toward the central hall. In the centre of the house there was a grand, central staircase, which they ascended to another floor.
Lucius stopped in front of a doorway and gestured for her to step inside. Once again, Narcissa had to fight the urge to gawk.
Like the drawing room, the ceilings were very high. Rather than the dark, fruity wood of the formal areas, however, this chamber was decorated completely in ivory and white. The only colour at all came from gilded detailing on the white-canopied bed and other furniture, and the ice blue curtains and pillows on the bed.
Narcissa didn't have to ask whether he meant to share the chamber, or if she would inhabit it alone. There was no sign of male habitation. It was feminine to the extreme- though she didn't doubt that Lucius had plans to visit. About halfway down the left-hand wall, a doorway was ajar. "My room," he informed her when he noticed her eyes. She inclined her head the merest fraction of an inch, and fought down the curiosity to peek inside.
"You have your own bathroom," Lucius said, stepping past her to gesture to a second door. Inside there was long, marble counter, toilet, and claw-footed tub.
"That looks comfortable," she remarked dryly.
Lucius refused to rise too completely to her bait, though under his breath he muttered: "Self-preservation."
"I trust this will be acceptable?" Lucius finally asked a moment later, after Narcissa had a change to inspect the room.
"For now," she replied, still churlishly unwilling to let him know how very lovely that she thought it was.
"I'll leave you to rest then," he muttered back, and she fancied he sounded stung, but didn't have time to determine before he stepped into his own room and locked the door.
"Typical," Narcissa sighed as she inspected the handle. She saw that it locked from only one side- Lucius's side- so there was no way to follow him into his room. She could scarecely blame him for running away, but she felt strangely deflated now that he was gone.
This wasn't how she wanted things to be. Narcissa sighed and sank down onto the edge of her new bed. Things were happening too fast. If she'd only had time to prepare, time to think, then perhaps she would have been able to greet her husband properly….perhaps? What did he expect her to do? Narcissa shivered when she thought of one thing that her husband probably expected- and she wasn't sure whether to attribute that shiver to excitement or fear.
Feeling agitated, she started to pace the room. She wondered if it was permissible to leave. After all, she wasn't really a prisoner here. She supposed- if she chose, she could floo back home to Ravensden and wait for Lucius to drag her back again. At the very least, she could explore the house and grounds. However, her husband had left her to rest, and she felt it was implicit in that action that she was expected to remain. Luckily, there was plenty to explore in her own room.
Narcissa regretted her earlier behaviour. It was childish to pretend that she wasn't utterly enchanted with her chamber. She had never inhabited a more beautiful space. It was obvious from the gleaming furniture and flawless linens that the whole suite had been recently redone. It looked just like a Princess's bedroom out of a fairytale book at home- and it briefly crossed her mind that, perhaps, Lucius had set his designers to copy it.
She didn't understand why he went to so much effort. Narcissa scrunched her nose as she considered the puzzle. He hadn't been bothered to speak to her- to even sign the card with his gifts!- for nearly two full years, but it was obvious that she had at least been in his thoughts. What had stilled his hand from contacting her? Why hadn't he owled or flooed, even if he couldn't spare the time to pay a call? If the answer was that he didn't care, why was he making an effort now? He already had her, after all. The vows she had taken at their wedding were nigh unbreakable. He could lock her in the dungeons if he wanted. There was nothing stopping him, after all.
Narcissa rather suspected that it would take more than one evening to puzzle out the solution to her thoughts. Too unsettled to pay them the attention they deserved, she distracted herself instead, opening the drawers and cabinets in her room.
At first, Narcissa was confused. She expected the furniture to be empty, or, since Lucius and his father had come to collect her, that her things had been sent ahead. She was puzzled to find stacks of garments that she didn't recognize at all.
They must belong to another woman. She thought automatically and not without a jealous scowl, but she quickly discounted this theory. None of the robes had ever been worn. Most were wrapped in paper from their boutiques.
Narcissa recognized many of the designers whose names were embroidered in the backs of the gowns: Sirena, Aphrodite, Madame Zelda…She caressed the thick silks and velvets covetously. Whoever had left them had excellent taste. She had never been able to afford more than a few such robes herself, though she assumed that was going to change.
They had to be Lucius's mother's. She was relieved when she figured it out. Evangeline didn't stay at the Manor, but she must store dresses here. Surely her mother in law wouldn't mind if she looked at one or two? After all- they were in Narcissa's room.
Narcissa reached into the armoire and pulled out a stack of gowns, smiling to see that they were all still bearing tags. She laid them out on top of her bed, oohing and aahing when each seemed more exquisite than the last. There was one silver gown that she admired above all of the rest. Gauzy and low-cut, it was embroidered with snowflakes around the neck, and was paired with warm, grey-velvet robes to be worn overtop.
It was a shame that she and Evangeline weren't the same size anymore! Narcissa sighed. She would have begged to borrow it if they were. The last time they met they had seen eye to eye and her slight, teenaged body had been as slender and reedy as Mrs. Malfoy's own, but over the past two years, Narcissa had grown at least five inches more. She was much fuller now too around the bust and hips. In spite of the knowledge that it would never work, Narcissa couldn't resist the temptation to try it own. She just wanted to see the fabric against her complexion. Perhaps the designer could make a new one for her as well? Narcissa stripped out of the pretty blue gown that she was wearing and laid it on the bed. Then, she pulled the new robes over her head.
She stared.
They were a perfect fit. Like the dress she had been wearing a few minutes before, they hugged her curves exactly, and the full skirt barely brushed the floor. Evangeline Malfoy would be swimming in the dress!
Frowning sharply, Narcissa removed the gown, and selected another from the pile. As before, the tailoring was exact- as if someone had gotten her measurements and made the gown to order. It was the same with the next, and the next…A suspicion was growing in her mind, though she didn't want to believe it. She could no longer deny the truth, however, when she opened her dresser drawer. A peach silk bathrobe was folded on top. The pocket was monogrammed with the initials: "NBM".
Narcissa Black Malfoy. In spite of how cross she was at Lucius a glow began to spread through her limbs. The clothes, like the furnishings, had been made to order for her. Giddy with this realization, she began to tear through the drawers.
There had to be a hundred gowns- and they had all been made for summer! She could change them twice a day and never wear the same thing again. Each one was exquisite. Opening the dresser she found scarves and stockings, and pretty strands of beads, soft fuzzy slippers for her bath, and satin ones to wear before bed, makeup, brushes, bottles of her favourite perfume…
Narcissa reached the bottom drawer, and then she inhaled sharply.
Years earlier, she and her mother had discussed (much to her mortification) the acquisition of a trousseau…but the subject had never been raised again. Narcissa had made an effort over the years to acquire foundations that she wouldn't mind being seen, but she had never even considered the wicked little confections that she found tucked in the bottom drawer.
Embarrassed but fascinated, she started sorting through the stack, pulling out the garters and corsets, short, gauzy nightgowns, tight chemises, and knickers that were the merest wisps of satin and lace.
Her entire body felt charged as she held them up against figure, imagining how they would feel on her skin- and how they would feel coming off- picturing hot, glowing embers in Lucius's eyes when he saw them…
"Narcissa?"
She jumped to her feet, spinning around to face Lucius just as he burst through the door. He quirked a brow at the lingerie she was holding. Blushing, she hid it hastily behind her back.
"Good, you're still here," he said and tried to look around her shoulder. Narcissa closed the drawer with her foot. "Are you rested? I wanted to tell you that it's time to eat," he fell momentarily silent as his eyes skated over her figure, looking mildly puzzled before a smile tugged one corner of his mouth. "I see you took the opportunity to change at least."
"Oh!" Narcissa exclaimed as she felt colour flood her face. She was still wearing one of the dresses that she had been admiring, a dusky pink confection with thin shoulder straps and a slightly flared skirt. "I'm sorry… I was just… looking," she said weakly. "But the dresses were so pretty, I couldn't resist trying on a few," she added apologetically.
Lucius chuckled softly. She liked the caressing sound of his rich, velvety laugh. She had missed it, Narcissa realised with a start.
"I'm pleased you have finally found something that meets with your approval," he remarked. He was still smiling as he said it, but Narcissa felt her blush deepen. Her behaviour had rather atrocious, but she was finding it hard to forget the fact he had ignored her for two whole years.
"Will your father be joining us for dinner?" Narcissa asked, trying to change the subject as she followed Lucius out of the room. She would tell him how lovely she thought her bedroom, just not quite yet.
"No," Lucius sneered. "He's gone to visit his-" he stopped awkwardly and cleared his throat. "He's gone to see a friend."
Narcissa looked up at him curiously, but Lucius didn't elaborate so she tried to concentrate on the route from her chamber to the stairs, and then from the stairs to the dinning room. She was going to need a map to remember her way around the Malfoys house! They needed little signs posted in the corridors with directions so that people could find their way around, she thought with a smile.
"We'll be eating in the family dinning room as there's only the two of us," Lucius drawled. "We do of course have a larger room for formal occasions, but father and I seldom use it unless we're entertaining."
Narcissa nodded her head as she was led into what she assumed was the 'family dinning room', as Lucius had called it. Her mouth formed a wondrous little 'o'. It was at least the size of the formal dinning room at Ravensden. The walls were panelled in the same dark wood as the drawing room Narcissa had arrived in, but this time the wood extended to the ceiling, which was ornately carved. Narcissa craned her neck to study the pattern, and then looked back down to see the room's centrepiece, a beautiful mahogany table, set for two. She could feel Lucius glance at her, no doubt waiting for her to level her latest criticism. She quickly closed her mouth, and tried to think of some positive, but not overly enthusiastic, comment to make.
"You don't like it?" Lucius frowned.
"No!...I mean 'yes'!" Narcissa fumbled. "I mean, I think it's very nice," she said softly.
This faint praise of his home went down little better than her outright censure. Still frowning, Lucius pulled out a chair for his wife and Narcissa sat down. She ran a finger nervously over her soup spoon and tried to think of something better to say about the room as Lucius took his seat opposite her.
"Well," he sighed, as two steaming bowls of asparagus soup appeared. "What are you going to change?"
Narcissa dropped the napkin she had been delicately unfolding. "Change?" she repeated looking across the table at Lucius. "About the house?" she asked in surprise. Her husband nodded. "But this is your home!
"Actually, it's not, it's our home." He took a spoonful of soup and looked pensive. "Although I suppose it might take a while for you to get used to that," Lucius pondered aloud.
Narcissa nodded her head and took a bite of soup, certain that he was correct. She had been married for two years, and it still didn't seem real that she was actually Lucius Malfoy's wife.
"Is anything wrong with your food?" Lucius asked, frowning at the way Narcissa was slowly stirring her soup and never seemed to take a bite.
"No," she answered quickly. She lifted the spoon to her lips and swallowed. "It's delicious."
They ate in silence. Or rather, Lucius ate. Narcissa spent a great deal of time rearranging her food on her plate and pretending to take a bite every time that Lucius looked her way. She was ravenously hungry. She hadn't had much more than her cream tea all day, but she was far too nervous to eat. As the clock in the corner ticked down the minutes, she became more and more aware of what had to happen next.
"Still tired?" Lucius asked when the elves came to clear away the dessert.
"A little," she answered equivocally. "I thought I might read a bit before bed."
"That sounds...pleasant," he answered. The tone seemed strained, and it occurred to Narcissa for the first time that he might be feeling a little nervous too. She quickly discarded the idea, however, as her mother's words on her wedding day returned to her mind. "I'm certain that Mr. Malfoy has had lots of experience" Mrs. Black had said. "I'm sure he'll know just what to do."
Well, Lucius might know, but Narcissa definitely didn't- and her imagination was scaring her to death.
She'd tried to pay attention in the dorm over the past two years, but hadn't learned much at all. It was harder when she had a room of her own. She was no longer privy to the late night sessions of giggling and gossip that went on with the Slytherin girls.
Bellatrix certainly seemed happy enough. She reminded herself of her sister, trying to regain her calm. The older girl, much to Narcissa's horror, had returned from her honeymoon in St. Petersburg declaring proudly that the new Lestranges "had been too busy to see anything of the city at all". Still...
"I'll walk up with you," Lucius announced, helping his wife out of her chair. She nodded. After all, she still didn't know her way around the house. She trailed after him again in the halls, but rushed forward at her room, blocking him from entering the door.
"I'll just get changed for bed then," she said quickly.
Lucius nodded, "Right. Of course."
Narcissa left him standing in the hall as she closed and locked the door. "For all the good that would do..." Narcissa thought, real panic setting in as she paced her way to the bed. She couldn't do anything about the door connecting their rooms. Oh, she might set a lock with her wand, but she didn't doubt that he could come straight through it. It was his house after all, magically warded to him...and she was his wife. They both belonged to Lucius Malfoy irrevocably and would have to obey his command.
Narcissa tried to concentrate on the things she was looking forward too, recalling in her mind the few brief brushes with intimacy they had experienced before. She remembered the thrill of being caught in his arms when she had fallen down the stairs, and the quiet comfort of listening to him sleep when they had been to Paris. She was learning to adore the sound of his voice, and he was certainly an attractive man. Surely she could endure the rest?
She would have to endure it. Finally fed up with her own timidity, Narcissa stalked across the room to the dresser. She stripped out of her gown, and found something pretty from the bottom drawer. It was a simple chemise and knickers of stretchy lace, which matched a pretty, but sheer white gauzy gown. They weren't racy, but she was pleased with the effect. She admired her figure in the mirror- then went to her bed to feign reading until Lucius returned.
She didn't have long to wait.
It was only a few minutes before he knocked softly on the door and stepped inside. "I wanted to tell you goodnight," he drawled in a tone that was softer and huskier than it had been before.
"Oh," Narcissa answered dumbly. "Goodnight."
He hesitated in the doorway. For one, breathless moment, she thought that he would turn to go. Instead, he crossed the room to her bed. He settled into the edge, the mattress depressing under his hips as he leaned toward her.
"May I kiss you goodnight?"
It didn't occur to her to deny his request. Even if she hadn't wanted it- and she had never objected to the idea of kissing- he had already bent too close. Like gravity, he drew her toward him, their lips drifting inexorably closer until they finally touched.
Narcissa had been kissed before- gentle busses from Lucius, and deeper caresses by boys as school, but experience was irrelevant when he claimed her lips for the first time as her lover and not her friend. Electric friction ignited the second their skin began to touch, and the sensation only became stronger as he leaned forward and the pressure increased. She opened to him, surrendering her fear in the face of the flutters of pleasure that erupted under her skin. A curious throb had started in her womb, and her skin felt suddenly hot as his palms smoothed over her back, and his tongue thrust into her mouth.
She tried to answer though, in her experience, she didn't know what to do. She let him lead them both, licking, touching, sucking...Sensations assaulted her from too many places at once, so that she couldn't think, and didn't try to resist the assault.
Narcissa felt as though she was melting. Her body was liquid and boiling beneath his touch, yet, instinctively, it knew to respond. She had no control over her fingers as they traced the muscles in his back, or when they pushed his robe from his shoulders, revealing his broad and muscled chest. They skated down his spine, cupping him close to her hips.
Lucius lips lingered against her own for a long time, kissing her until she was breathless and then, working their way down her neck and onto her breasts. Nerves that she didn't know she had exploded in pleasure as he nipped and swabbed the delicate flesh with his teeth and tongue.
"Lucius!" She didn't recognize her voice as it called his name. Her fingers rooted in his hair, dragging him back to her mouth. She slid her own tongue against his own, tasting the honey-sweetness there as she tried to reciprocate what he had done before.
Her husband's hands began to grow impatient, tugging her free of her top. He slid a hand into her knickers- so hot and unexpected that she gasped. A bolt of pure pleasure snapped through her like a shot. Her body arced- but then she squealed and bucked away.
It was too much, too fast.
In spite of the fact that she loved everything that Lucius had done, Narcissa couldn't prevent the avalanche of her fears crashing over her at once. She wasn't ready. This was wrong! She was frightened, and it was all too soon.
Lucius didn't try to follow as she scooted away from him, nor did he try to stop her clutching the sheets around her body to hide her herself from his eyes. He stayed frozen exactly where he was, breath coming in ragged pants that he was gradually managing to slow. She watched, trembling, as his eyes clenched tightly shut, and then he turned away.
"I'm so sorry, Narcissa," he rasped, his voice cracking with an emotion she thought might have been self-loathing. "I shouldn't have done that to you."
Narcissa shifted uncomfortably. Her terror was draining away, quickly replaced with embarrassment rather than fear. She wasn't ready – she had been right to stop him… but… but if only she could have just managed to tell him that calmly, to slow things smoothly instead of screaming like a banshee!
Her face crumpled. She couldn't find it in her heart to blame Lucius for his actions, however unwanted they might have been. Her mother had warned her that a man's appetite was very different to a woman's, and she didn't wonder that he was confused. One moment she was lying willing, compliant- enthusiastic even! - in his arms, and the next… Narcissa bit her lip. She didn't even want to think about it.
"Lucius?" she whispered, wanting to make him understand. She edged a little closer to him, reaching out to touch his shoulder. He recoiled. Illogically, Narcissa felt as if she had just suffered a punch to the gut.
"You needn't worry. It won't happen again," he grunted, still unable to look at her.
He doesn't mean that, Narcissa tried to tell herself sensibly, you're going to bear his son. But she was unable to quieten the new fears that stirred to life. She wasn't ready yet, but… Narcissa recalled the feel of Lucius's mouth on her body and shivered… but one day soon she would be, and Lucius was looking terrifyingly like he would never be able to bring himself to touch her again.
"I'm sorry, Lucius," she sobbed suddenly. His haunted eyes raced back to her face in disbelief.
"You don't have anything to be sorry for," he growled firmly, after a moment's pause.
Oh but she did, Narcissa thought woefully. She had done everything she could think of to convince him that she was woman and not the child that he had known two years before. Except, when it had come to the ultimate test, she had simply proven to him, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she was very much still the little girl that he had married.
The mattress shifted as Lucius stood. "I'm sorry I frighten you," he sighed heavily, crossing the room to the door to his bedroom without looking back. Narcissa stared after him, speechless and wretched. What should she say? What could she do? There had to be something! Lucius muttered under his breath about changing the lock on the door that separated their rooms and then he was gone.
Narcissa had never felt so alone.
Her body felt restless and out of sorts, craving something she couldn't define. She curled up into a little ball and buried her head in the pillows, trying to stifle her sobs. What would happen now? Narcissa didn't think that one hurt a Malfoy and escaped unscathed. And she had hurt him. For once, it had been so plain to read Lucius's eyes.
Good, hissed a little voice inside her head. He left you alone for two years and expected to hop straight into your bed the second he saw you?
But she had encouraged him! Narcissa wailed into her pillow. Her behaviour was unpardonable. She had lain in his arms like a wanton harlot, moaning and writhing and loving everything he did… until he had crossed a line Narcissa hadn't even known was in place. If she didn't know it was there, how could she expect Lucius too?
She sniffed and sobbed, exhausting herself. Lucius would look somewhere else for his pleasure now, she was absolutely certain of that! He wouldn't trouble himself with his frigid little wife when there were so many more satisfying women only too ready to welcome him into their beds. Narcissa hugged her arms around her body, and cried herself to sleep.
..ooOOoo..
Lucius lay back on his bed and closed his eyes, trying to blot out the sound of sobbing coming through the walls. He could easily cast a silencing charm, but that would be too easy. In a twisted way, he was enjoying the torture- it was no less than he deserved.
He had ruined everything. Remorse was an unfamiliar emotion to Malfoy, but now that he felt it, Lucius wished there was a way that he could cast crucio on himself. Surely it would be preferable to the unbearable agony of regret!
He knew that he should have taken things slow. He hadn't anticipated that he would want to rush things quickly! From the very moment that he saw her, however, things had gone terribly wrong. It wasn't just that she was beautiful- though he couldn't deny the power of pure animal lust that she had triggered. There was a quality about her that he couldn't name, a "Narcissa-ness" that hung about her like a magnetic cloud and drew him in. She'd always had it: that spark of attraction, that hint of mystery that made him want to lean closer and linger longer in the hopes that he might coax another of her secret smiles. The passing years had only increased its power and he was too weak, or too foolish to resist.
Lucius hadn't even planned to bring Narcissa to his home that night. He had everything ready, of course, but he had gone to the Blacks to propose that she come to visit as soon as she'd gotten settled so that he could show her the countryside and the house. After a month or so of pleasant meetings, he would suggest that his wife spend the weekend- unmolested, naturally. She could bring her sister if she wished- and then, perhaps when summer was over, a trial habitation could begin.
Lucius had certainly NOT planned what actually happened- that he would be provoked into tossing her over his shoulder (almost literally), dragging her back to Wiltshire, and hauling her into his bed before she even had time to think. That very morning she had woken up in a four-poster bed at Hogwarts. No wonder she had been terrified!
Sick with self-loathing, he turned over in his bed and stared at her door. He supposed that he should offer to send her home, but a part of him was still unwilling to admit defeat. In spite of what he'd told her, he couldn't really promise never to touch her again. They were married, and he required an heir. That was an understanding from the beginning of their bargain- although, at least, it didn't need to be soon. Perhaps her feelings would change, as she grew older? Perhaps he could regain her trust?
Lucius replayed in his mind all of the happy memories that they had shared. Considering the short duration of their acquaintance- or, more properly, how little time they had spent together- it was impressive how many he could imagine: how spirited she had struck him from the very beginning at her cousin Lyra's wedding, the delight on her face when he had given her the Athenon, the joy he'd had spoiling her in Paris. Was there any chance of recapturing the past?
Although he was loathed to admit it, Lucius realized one thing. If there were any hope of regaining her good favour, she would have to be the one to make a move. He couldn't force her to accept his advances. He couldn't intrude on her space any more than necessary if they shared a house. They would dine together and attend balls and other normal, every day events where she would not have to be anxious in his presence. Then, when she was ready, she could come to him. He hated it, of course. There was nothing to intolerable to Lucius as being powerless to act, but it was the only way.
He would have to wait for her to come to him.
..ooOOoo..
Narcissa felt strangely disorientated when she woke up the next morning. She opened one bleary eye and frowned. This wasn't her room at Hogwarts, nor was it her bedchamber at home, so where on earth was she?
She sat up with a jolt when she remembered the answer to that question – the Malfoy's Manor! With sickening vivacity the events of the previous evening returned to haunt her.
She flopped back down onto the mattress, (which she had to confess was delightfully snug,) and wondered if she could hide in her room all day? No, Narcissa told herself firmly. Such a thought simply seemed to underline her juvenility. She would go down to breakfast and face the day head on. Besides, she was utterly starving after the meagre amount she had eaten the day before.
Narcissa washed her face, fixed her hair and dressed in a set of her new robes. She busied her mind with the menial little tasks of getting ready, while trying not to think about what would happen when she saw Lucius at the breakfast table. Would his contrite air have turned to anger? Would he have realised that his right to her body was not dependant on her willingness to give it to him?
She stood wringing her hands nervously for a moment, and then decided that she was never going to learn her fate if she cocooned herself in her room forever! She pulled open her bedroom door and glanced about the corridor to see if anyone was about, but everything was deathly quiet.
Narcissa reached the bottom of the stairs before she realised that she hadn't a clue where the breakfast room was situated. She dallied for only a moment before a sharp CRACK filled the air and a battered looking house elf appeared in front of her. It bobbed its head respectfully, hitting its forehead against the floor in its enthusiasm.
"Master Lucius said Dobby should show Mistress to the breakfast when Mistress come downstairs this morning," it squeaked.
"Oh," Narcissa assumed it was apprehension that was causing her heart to flutter, and not the fact Lucius had been thoughtful enough to send an elf to show her to breakfast. "Is Master Lucius already at breakfast then?" she asked quietly, as she was led down a completely new wing of the house.
"No, Mistress Narcissa." She couldn't account for her twinge of disappointment. Surely it was a good thing that he hadn't arrived yet? She could prepare herself this way. "Master Lucius has already left."
"What?" Narcissa gasped. She actually tripped down the step that led into the cosy little breakfast room. He had gone? The little elf glanced fearfully at Narcissa, sensing her displeasure.
"Master Lucius left early this morning for London, Mistress," Dobby whimpered pitifully, as if it was his fault.
"Did he- did he leave a message for me?" Narcissa whispered, taking a seat. Only one place was laid at the table.
Narcissa couldn't explain why she felt so bereft when the house elf shook its wretched head. Eating breakfast with Lucius would have been a most awkward and undoubtedly highly embarrassing affair, but there was something so cruel and cutting about his absence that Narcissa felt her appetite desert her. Should she prepare herself to be ignored for another two years because of her mistake the previous night?
There was, as yet, no method to predict the length of her exile from Lucius's company; there was no word from him all day. After picking at breakfast (her robust appetite seeming to have disappeared along with her husband), she spent the morning poking around the house. It was magnificent. She would have felt a great degree of pride in her surroundings if only she didn't feel like such a fraud! She was Lucius's wife in name only, and she didn't know how long that would last.
Figuring at least that she might make herself useful, Narcissa went to the kitchens after lunch. She commanded the attendance of the head elf- a tubby, grey-green creature, which was probably female by its name, and requested a thorough tour of the estate. She jotted down notes as they walked. There was nothing that she could fault in the dwelling's appearance, but after several years without a mistress, matters of management had begun to slip.
"Where are the week's menus?" Narcissa asked when they returned to the kitchen again. The little creature was forced to admit, in a miserable squeak, that menus had not been prepared. Likewise, there was no inventory of the larder, no count on the silver, no list of china patterns, and no calendar of when the linens had last been pressed.
There was a great deal of work involved in managing a great house. This, at least, was a task to which Narcissa was suited, and she welcomed the work. Compiling a list of tasks to for the elves to undertake, she spent several long hours pleasantly free of recriminating thoughts. At length, however, the dinner bell chimed...and Narcissa was dismayed to find the long mahogany table once again set for her to dine alone.
"I'll wait on Master Lucius." Narcissa said to the elves, not even bothering to take her seat.
The pair of servers exchanged a glance. "Master Lucius says he will eat in town, ma'am." the braver of the pair finally admitted.
So, that was it then.
Like frost spreading on a pond, icy numbness started in Narcissa's heart and moved slowly to her limbs. She lifted her chin, too proud to let the servants see her cry.
"Miss is unhappy with dinner?" One elf began slowly, hopping forward with a cock-eyed glance.
"No," she hissed, and said nothing more as she turned and ran back up to her room.
She cried until her eyes were swollen, and then she lay awake, listening for her husband's return, imagining what had detained him for so long. She knew that his lateness was on purpose- if it hadn't been, he would have sent a note. Instead, he had sent a message to the elves! She wished that she could be angry, but the principal emotion throbbing through her body was hurt: the raw, exposed sensation of a scab being ripped off a wound. She had failed him again.
He was probably with another woman. The same, phantom woman who had haunted Narcissa since her days at school returned to her mind again, throwing back her perfect head and emitting a loud, patronizing laugh.
It was after midnight when she heard Lucius creep home at last. When it became apparent that he did not intend to call on his wife before he went to sleep, Narcissa walked to the dividing door herself.
It was locked.
For a moment Narcissa stared at the handle, reluctant to try again, but desperation egged her on. She could stand Lucius's contempt, or even his anger, but the thought of more endless silence was too painful to endure.
"Lucius?" she called, knocking on the door. To her frustration, he did not unlatch the lock. Instead, he called back through the wood.
"Did I wake you? I'm sorry."
"No. I never went to sleep."
"Is your bed uncomfortable?"
"Lucius...let me in."
There was a long, plodding pause, but finally the latch clicked and the door swung wide. Lucius stood on the opposite side, poking his head through the opening, but standing behind it, as if using it as a shield.
"Did you need something Narcissa?"
"I wanted to talk," she admitted slowly, wishing that she had more experience at reading his tired face.
"About?"
She sighed. Why was he making this so difficult? "About your day. You were gone so long..." she bit her lower lip, well aware that she sounded childish. "I missed you." she admitted at last.
"Did you?" he snorted, disbelieving, but then shrugged. "Well, I'm usually in town."
"Always?"
"Often." He rubbed his temple.
"Lucius, about last night..." Narcissa began with a burst of courage. "I-" But he silenced her with a kiss. It was not a caress of passion. Instead, it was the sort of perfunctory touch that one might use to hush a child.
"Later," he said dismissively.
When she wanted to scream, desperately worried that the answer was never.
Lucius moved his lips to her forehead, pressing another soft touch of his lips. "Sleep well, Narcissa," he murmured, and then the door was shut again.
TO BE CONTINUED….
A/N Thanks again for your comments. We read them all and really appreciate them/are motivated by them!