Chapter 2
Soft pleas follow the tall, well-built man along the corridor but he doesn't stop to answer them; his electric blonde hair trailing after him, he swiftly exits the long passage, his mouth a tight line, his jaw set. She doesn't have a chance. She will never get the old him back.
Narcissa Malfoy, clothes askew, mind muddled, leans against hard, stone wall and sighs deep in her chest. She knows how her mother would yell if she knew
((A Black! he insults you so!))
She knows she can get out of this marriage as easily as she was tricked into it; She could leave Malfoy with nothing but a memory of the decade to hurt he put her through. She could walk away now, almost unscathed, almost unbroken, but she can't, its not nearly enough.
She doesn't know whether it's the "Black in her" that wont let her walk away. She knows she doesn't love him anymore, that maybe, she never really did, but she can't walk away. She has the boy - her Draco, although she's never considered him her own - to think of. She could walk away tomorrow, pack her bags, file for divorce. But he'd still follow her. The memories of the things he's done...
She knows that he'll never stop hitting her, demeaning her, raping her. She knows that it's no longer in his nature to be virtuous, to be kind, and she knows, in her heart of hearts that the only way he'll stop; the only way she'll sleep sound in her bed at night, is with him dead, and that, as a twenty seven year old mother, is a scary thought to have.
So next time, she thinks, she'll be ready. Next time he moves to hit her, she'll hit him first, with Avada Kedava.
Narcissa Malfoy tidies her hair, wipes blood from her split lip and smoothes down her dress. Until that day, the day when she finally pays him back, she's still his wife, still Draco's mother, still second in line to hislord. So she gets the tea ready, a smile plastered on her once beautiful features.
It's about time Malfoy stopped shtting on the Black family name.
-
Remus and Sirius eat breakfast at the same table, but they might as well be on separate continents as far as the conversation goes. Sirius is so angry all the time; at Remus, at Voldemort, at the relentless pestering those Weasley morons give him, and so his migrane is continuous. Remus is so lost in his own thoughts that he never thinks to check if Sirius is still breathing. Sirius doesn't blame Lily for the war, but he blames her for disappearing without a trace, before answering the only question he'd ever asked her.
"What will you do today Moody?" He questions affectionately, although he has no interest in the answer. "The Order I suspect."
His oldest friend nods and sighs. "Not that it makes a smigeon of difference - Riddle'll just kill us together instead of apart."
"Have we located the Malfoys yet?"
"No." Remus shrugs. "Lucius isn't going to be any help even if we do find him."
((No. But Narcissa might.))
"What about you? Will you come in today?" There is criticism in his voice, and Sirius catches it, giving his friend a sharp look.
"Yes. Albus needs me."
((I needed you yesterday, every single day for that matter.)) Remus thinks. ((Where were you then Padfoot?))
There is so much resentment in that one thought, that Remus swears he sees Sirius' face redden with comprehension.
-
"Every day the bonds that tie the Order together grow weaker My Lord, and this will be at an advantage to us when we finally move in for the kill."
"If we ever move in for the kill." Bellatrix Lestrange pipes up, thoroughly bored of waiting to murder that disastrous excuse of a cousin. "What's stopping us?"
Voldemort looks at her and shakes his head. "Patience is a virtue Bella."
"Yes, my Lord it is, and I've been waiting patiently to kill that muggle lover for years."
Voldemort yawns. "Do we have to have this conversation every day Lestrange? Frankly, it's getting boring."
A hooded and cloaked man, in the back of the room finally reveals himself to his master as Lucius Malfoy. Seeing his sister-in-law trying Voldemort's paitience, he interjects. "We could use her, My Lord."
"Lily?" The Dark Lord shakes his head for the second time in a matter of minutes. "No. They've all got designs on her, they'd kill her before the trap could work its course. Plus...she knows too much about us, about the goings on - it would be almost infantile to risk exposure."
Lucius glances through the bars at the Potter woman, "So we just leave her here?"
"For the time being." Voldemort's words are sharp and his deatheaters look away from his face.
"As you wish, My Lord." Lucius' eyes are still on the Mudblood. "Could I maybe have a little chat with her myself?"