I am so slow with updates! Sorry, sorry. I do try. Anyway, totally new POV this chapter. The last living Malfoy: Narcissa. Enjoy!
Chapter 12: The Mistress and the Slave Boy
Under the Headmistresses stern glare, Narcissa fought the urge to wilt. She understood this woman's fury, but she would not be cowed. Drawing on every shred of dignity left to her, she drew herself up, facing her enemy with pride. She may have lost everything that ever mattered to her, but she would not cower like some house elf. She was pure-blood, of the line of the Ancient House of Black, wife to the heir to the Malfoy line, nobility incarnate. Though she was broken for it, she would still carry herself with the pride her lineage demanded.
'I require a meeting with Severus Snape,' she demanded. And by all the gods, hurry. I won't last much longer. 'I know you know how to find him. Take me to him, please. Or bring him here. I don't care. Just hurry.'
The infernal woman raised her eyebrows, a gesture that reminded Narcissa so strongly of Severus that it hurt to see it. 'I don't know what you mean, Widow Malfoy,' Narcissa cringed, 'but Severus Snape has not had contact with me for quite some time. Indeed, by all reports the traitor is dead. From what I've heard, an old friend of your husband's found reason to be disappointed with our late potions master.'
Did the woman have to be so petty, to keep bringing Lucius into it? It wasn't as if she didn't know what he had done. In fact, Narcissa knew more than this haughty witchling ever would, and she would not stand to be patronised! Not here, and not now! Did McGonagal think she was the only one to have suffered loss? Did she think that a few cheap shots would make Narcissa Malfoy retreat? She had no idea!
'I know full well that that is not true. Voldemort could not kill Severus if he tried! That man simply does not succumb. And whether you trust him or not, whether he is safe with you or not, Severus would have come to you once he escaped, if only to give you information before you sent him away.' Her own tone was as coldly venemous as she could manage, which was enough to set Bella to retreat. 'He was ever on your side, though for what reason I could never fathom. You are not worthy. Now. Where is he? If you have sent him to Azkaban, then you will regret it. Bring him to me.'
She stood under the other witch's scrutiny, fists clenched, stony-faced. She would get what she wanted. Needed. She had to see Severus, before her time ran out. He wasn't dead. Whatever this woman said, she would have known had he died. She had complete faith in his ability to escape fate. As long as she had known her husband's slave, she had known that he would not be mastered. Not by Lucius, not by her, not by Death himself. Until the world itself fell to the Dark Lord, Severus would be there to fight, however he could.
'Wait here.' Minerva walked away, to the room's fireplace. Narcissa's heart leapt. She struggled to maintain her stern facade, but that ability was slowly leaving her along with everything else. She hoped he would see her. She had to get to him. Minerva talked with someone through the Floo, arguing vehemently, by the sounds of things. A female voice carried through, strident, if masked slightly by the fire. 'He is not coming! He's too weak. We had a .. problem. He's exhausted himself, and I am not letting him go! I ...' The voice cut off. Narcissa lost the next few sentances on either side, straining to hear. Then the voice she most needed to hear came through.
She watched as Severus' cold command forced the Headmistress to move aside, letting him through the Floo. She straightened, but couldn't help the flash of desperate need that flittered across her features. She knew he noticed. He always did. But she noticed many things too. She saw his skeletal physique, his worn face with its sunken eyes, blued shadows accentuating his obvious exhaustion. She saw the Healer that rushed through behind him, the concern in her eyes that was more than healer for patient. She saw the reassuring glance he sent the woman, the tenderness. She saw his weakness, and his strength, both so plain to her eyes that she wondered how so many could miss it. She saw, and the emotions that welled up in her overcame her waning defenses to burst out in a single choked sob.
He was at her side in an instant, concern on his tired face. Concern for her, for his master's wife, for his enemy's servant. The same concern he always showed towards her. The same understanding that as always she knew she did not deserve. How could they not see his worthiness, when he would casually show mercy to an enemy?
'Narcissa?' His voice was soft and silken as always. His arms touched hers gently, not catching, merely supporting in a way so unlike Lucius' possessive grasping that it alone calmed her. His gaze pulled hers up to meet it, hypnotic and reassuring. Under that calm stare, her wayward emotions receded, allowing her to regain her lost composure, to remember her reason for coming here.
'Severus, I'm sorry about this. I had to see you, and I'm sorry, but there are some things I have to tell you, and I knew you weren't dead, and you're hurt, and I've disturbed you, but I don't have much time, and I must speak with, it's very important, and I need to tell you ...' She tried to stop the babbling, aware that she was embarrassing both of them, but her control hadn't returned as much as she had thought, and she couldn't stop. She realised furiously that she had tears in her eyes, and tried to reach up to brush them away, but he held her arms, not hard, but firm enough to halt the movement.
'Narcissa,' he said gently. 'Narcissa, I'm fine. Tell me what's happened. Tell me what you need. What is it?' He led her to a chair and sat her down, crouching in front of her so he could hold her trembling hands in her lap. She stared at him, at his upturned face, and felt the old feelings stirring, feelings she knew full well she shouldn't have. She fought them down, turned to her purpose to blot them out.
She took a deep breath, glancing at the other two women as she did.They looked confused, and angry, and something else she didn't understand. Some manner of sympathy or pity that she had never seen before. She hated it, and turned away from it angrily to face the man kneeling before her.
'I have some things to give to you,' she stated. He blinked, looking so comical that she couldn't suppress a little chuckle. He so rarely looked confused. She watched the eyebrow go up, watched the tiny smile tug at the corner of his lips, and the world suddenly seemed lighter. She cursed herself for feeling it, cursed herself for loving him when he was forbidden her, but his smile wrought magic in her world. She laughed bitterly to herself. The Mistress and the Slave Boy, like in those pathetic romances she had read as a student. But he was no more a slave, and she no longer his mistress. And he had a love of his own now. She had survived too long on an instinct for social events to miss the love in his glance towards the healer, and hers back. It was too late for her now anyway.
She freed her hands to fumble in her robe pocket, ignoring the tensing in the stances of the two witches. Eventually she pulled forth what she needed, and thrust the tiny object at him, slipping in into his hand. He stared at it curiously, turning it over in his slender fingers to examine it carefully. Finally he looked back at her. 'Is this what I think it is?' he asked quietly. She nodded.
'It's the key to the Malfoy family vault.' The witches startled, but he only looked at her, willing her to explain. 'It's no use to anyone else now ...' Her voice broke momentarily but she recovered. His hands slipped around hers again in comfort. '...Now that Draco is gone,' she continued. 'If anyone deserves that money, it's you. Gods know what you went through to earn it, and now that he's gone, you're free to take it.' They both knew who he was.
He stared for a moment, weighing something in his mind. She hoped he wouldn't refuse. Finally he spoke. 'I can't take it, Narcissa. You'll need it to get out of England. Besides, I failed you. I failed you and Draco. He's dead because of me, and I can't accept rewards for letting your son die.' His voice turned bitter. 'I don't deserve anything from you. Not after that.'
It was her turn to comfort him, though she felt the sting of guilt run through her. It was time to explain. 'Don't. Don't say that. I mean what I say. You're the only one who deserves it. What happened to Draco ... it wasn't your fault. You did everything you could and more, and I should have known better than to place such an impossible task on you. You fought your position to help my son, something I should have known would end badly. It wasn't you who caused his death, but Voldemort and my thrice-accursed husband. It was Lucius' failure that led to Draco's death, and we both know it. If he hadn't led my son down this path, if he hadn't failed and then been captured, taking him out of the Dark Lord's grasp, then Draco might have survived. Don't blame yourself for my bloody husband's mistakes. He was your master, not your responsibility. Let it go.'
He didn't respond, but she didn't need him to. She could see that he knew these things, but he always did try to take everything on himself. He always tried to make right the crimes that were never his to begin with. He had such a powerful sense of honour, that was downright annoying at times, it was so positively Hufflepuffian. Slytherin her eye. He had the talents, the deceptive qualities, all right, but name a house and he had the gifts. Hufflepuff loyalty and honour, Ravenclaw genius, Slytherin cunning and survival instinct. Even bloody Gryffindor courage, though you'd be ill-advised to mention that. She fully understood the healer's attraction. She wished her the luck that she herself had never had, or ever would have, now.
'As for me,' she smiled gently. 'I really don't think that will be an issue, in a few minutes or so.' He sat bolt upright, staring at her in terror. She laughed. He caught on quick, quicker than anyone she'd met.
'Narcissa, what have you done!' he asked urgently. She reached up to touch his cheek softly, in an absurd gesture of possessive comfort. She would miss him so. But he would survive, and her place was with her son. She knew it in the way any mother knows that her place is with her child. He wouldn't understand, maybe, but it was too late now to stop.
'You gave a potion, once,' she said dreamily. 'For pain, when Lucius got angry that time. Remember? You told me it would take all the pain away, but I shouldn't take too much, because then it would take everything else too. Then it would put my to sleep, and I wouldn't ever wake again. Do you remember?'
'How much, Narcissa? How much did you take, and how long ago?' He was frantic, barely concealing it. She was touched that he could still be so concerned for her. Now that her job was done, and she'd stopped resisting the potion, she could feel the beautiful lassitude flooding her body, the peace in mind and body that took all pain.
'All of it!' She laughed. 'Oh Severus, you were right! There's no pain. None at all. I didn't think I could have such peace, not after Lucius, but I don't feel a thing! It's wonderful! Don't be so worried! I want it. I want to go to Draco, don't you see? It's alright! I meant this to happen. I just had to see you first. It's okay.'
She felt herself slide bonelessly into his arms, and giggled helplessly. 'I'll miss you though. I always did like you, you proud, impossible man. I always loved you. I know you loved someone else, still do, but I couldn't help it. You're just too beautiful!' She laughed at his desperate blush, his tears. She felt so good now. So free.
She waved at the healer. 'Take care of him, hmm? He's too good to let go. You hear me?' He caught her outflung arm, pulled it back against him with the rest of her. She caught the healer's tearful nod before he took her chin in his hand and looked into her fevered eyes. He winced at the evidence of the poison he found there, but she couldn't find the energy now to be bothered by it. She could almost see her little Dragon beckoning. She was light as a feather, happy as an angel.
Then he leant in, and feathered his lips over her brow, and she let a delighted, stunned laugh escape. He cared. 'Go to him then,' he whispered. 'Go in peace, Narcissa.' His tears fell onto her face, but he understood. It gave her such peace to know that. Silently, because she couldn't speak anymore, she wished him happiness. She wished for him to find a piece of light in the darkness, like she had now. She wished him to be safe. He deserved it.
The last thing she saw with living eyes was his sad, understanding gaze, and she slipped happily into the endless dream, at peace at last.
Well? I know it's a bit of a jump from the Trio last chapter, but it does have a purpose. What do you think? R&R?