Thanks Nico and Lou for your great reviews. I don't write for reviews, but I won't lie, I sure post on this site for them^^. Thanks to the rest of you for reading.
1998 - After Voldemort's death, and the visit to Andromeda
Tea with Draco these days was a stilted affair, where they talked about nothing and pretended everything was as it should be.
Narcissa was tired of not talking. She doubted her son would get any better in silence. It had been two days since she had been to space with Andromeda, two days of sorting out what she truly wanted and believed in. Of course, only so much could be achieved in two days, but this in-between state where they lived in the Manor without knowing how long they would be able to stay, where they pretended to ignore the awful things that had happened this year within these very walls... This was not the life Narcissa wanted. They were adrift and it was time to start steering the boat once more.
"Draco, are you not curious as to why I have been faring better than your father ?"
Draco stiffened. He gave a minute nod, not meeting her eyes.
"Lucius grew up loved. He had a name to live up to, but he did not have to hide who he was. He has always felt safe in his own house. On top of the torture, he was not equipped to handle the stress the Dark Lord's constant presence put him under. I, on the other hand, have had ample practice."
Draco was quiet for time. "Pansy, Theodore, Marcus Flint..." He took a sharp breath. "Goyle... Their childhoods were much worse than mine. Even Blaise... his mother didn't abuse him, but she never cared much for him. You never speak of your childhood."
"It wasn't all bad. Some of it was wonderful. I could have told you I had my sisters. But that would have meant talking of Andromeda and Bellatrix. I could have told you of my Black cousins... You've read those articles on Sirius and Regulus, have you not ? I... We could not give you siblings and you have no cousins your own age, none living close enough to be what they were to us. I convinced myself there was no point of making you envy something you couldn't have."
Draco nodded slowly, his eyes unfocused. "What of your parents?"
"They had a precise idea of who us children should become. We were not allowed a mind of our own. There was little admirable about them. We grew to despise them."
Narcissa's teacup clattered too loudly as she set it down. Pain shot up her arm. She breathed in slowly, willing the tremors to just stop.
Draco's eyes were riveted on her treacherous fingers. Narcissa swallowed down the urge to scream.
"Just grab my hand if you don't want to see them shake." She softened her biting tone with a pained smile. This humiliating ordeal was not her boy's fault.
Draco awkwardly reached forward, his grip careful but firm. A jumble of emotions creased his forehead. "You believed I was too... young, to understand?"
"Surely you now realize that Lucius and I have our own own pasts and chains, and that not everything is about you. I liked to pretend I was a Malfoy. It's as simple as that." She had liked to pretend everything was perfect for her little boy. She had loved how he looked at her, as if she was all-knowing and in control.
Anger clouded Draco's expression. It spoke of his newfound maturity that he reined it in. "So, your sister who ran off with a mud- a muggleborn. What is she like ?"
"Meda was, is, intelligent. She saw the hypocrisy. She lacked the cleverness, or maybe simply the inclination, to embrace it and make it a strength." Like Narcissa had done. "She fell for Edward Tonks because she could be herself with him. He was her excuse to break away. She did not regret what she lost. They were happy together. I am grateful life gave her this kindness."
"But she left you behind."
"We were all selfish... But perhaps that is why we survived." We. Not all of them. Not nearly.
Ollivanders' in Knockturn wasn't nearly as famed as Ollivanders in Diagon Alley. In common, the two shops shared a love for poorly-lit cramped spaces, precariously stacked merchandise, an eerie owner whose birth possibly predated Albus Dumbledore's, and the fact that almost every customer would leave with something they would use for the rest of their lives.
The main difference was that while Garrick Ollivanders sold wands, Egeria Ollivanders sold books. Her books held the kind of knowledge that shifted depending on their surroundings. The biggest stacks of books were about houses and those tomes sought a house of their own. Buildings, or more generally places, inhabited by magicals for generations, developed a sort of magical signature of their own. The places of greatest magic, like Hogwarts, grew almost sentient over the centuries. There were ways to prepare, hasten or guide such growth, and every magical family had an interest in cherishing their houses. A loyal house was the most fertile ground for protective wards.
Egeria's tomes were incomplete until they were bound to a house because houses, like children, were unique. The book had to be exposed to the house's magic, to be able to translate it into words for wizards to read. Like all books that changed, they were dark magic.
Narcissa had only ever lived in old houses, but now she was interested in a successful beginning. She was also hunting for a good present for Meda.
It was seven in the morning, too early for most customers. She froze when she realized she and Draco weren't alone.
She noticed him before he could see her. Wordlessly, she made herself functionally invisible. Draco frowned at her. His eyes then widened.
"Potter." Draco's mouth stayed open, but nothing more came out. He shut it awkwardly after a few tense seconds.
"Muffiato. Malfoy."
The pause was heavy. Almost threatening but for the fact Potter put his wand back in his pocket. The young man wore open black over-robes, over jeans and a plain black muggle shirt (and not even one of those with buttons). An attire that could be kindly called comfortable, and critically overlarge. It was all too muggle, and could have been a political statement had it not been so obviously an afterthought. And that messy black hair did little for his bearing. It made him look confused about how he wanted to come across, about where he belonged. It made him look terribly young.
"I heard you went to see Teddy." Potter's tone belied what he really meant: "how dare you go see Teddy!"
Draco stared. Narcissa could tell that he realized Potter knew that Draco and Teddy were cousins. That it wasn't the point.
"Millicent is the one who sent you Dobby," Draco said instead.
"What?"
"In fifth year. Dobby told you that Umbridge was coming to the Room of Requirements. Then you all rushed out into the seventh floor corridor like headless chicken instead of making the room open a door just about anywhere else... But we did send Dobby. We'd known about your group since that painfully obvious meeting in the Hog's Head. And, guess what, some people are actually friends with Slytherins and told us... Everyone except Umbridge knew about that defense club."
Potter, cross-armed, glared skeptically. "Then why didn't you tell her?"
"What for? To get you in trouble? You already lived in detention. To stop people from learning stunners? It boggles the mind that people like Chang hadn't mastered stunners by sixth year. I mean, she didn't strike me as dumb, academically at least, but -"
"You lay off about Cho -"
"The only part I think is stupid," Draco interrupted, "is that you lot needed the Dark Lord as a reason to learn magic. I mean, of course nobody needs magic, that's why muggles shot a rocket to the moon. But we're wizards and witches, it's never been about needing."
"Then why was I the only one who spoke out against Umbridge? Why did you lot pin Inquisitorial Squad Badges to your robes and spent the year pushing us around?"
Draco matched Potter's red-faced accusations with an unimpressed glower. "You mean spent my O.W.L year patrolling corridors three hours a day and reading mail another half-hour instead of doing just about anything else? You truly believe I had fun past the first... oh, four days?"
Potter blinked, clearly taken by surprise, but then his face darkened.
Narcissa wordlessly hexed Draco. A pinch on his shoulder. Like when he had been seven years old and mouthing off in public.
"I'm not saying I didn't behave badly towards you," Draco hastily said. Good boy. "Just... the I.S. wasn't a privilege. We called ourselves the Indomitable Servants."
Harry frowned. Most of his anger, at least the anger specifically directed at Draco, seemed to have left him. His arms stayed crossed. "Fine. Explain it to me then."
"There was a good chance the first to speak up would be expelled. With the I.S. Umbridge kept us privy to her plans and turned a blind eye on us learning magic. We thought the others, or just you Gryffindors at least, would raise up a storm against the unfairness of it all. Instead, everybody just bowed their heads and waited for you three to set up your little Army. I don't get it, Potter. We read your mail, and you all were fine with it."
"It's not like we could do anything!"
"Muggle-raised you, muggleborn Granger, even the blo-, the Weasleys, not much. The others, who between them have most of the Ministry as parents, aunts and uncles or cousins?" Draco's smile was bitter. "This just proves most of everybody thought Umbridge had the right idea."
"How could they send letters when you lot read-"
"They could have sent letters from Hogsmeade," Draco snapped. "They could have asked the Hogwarts House Elves. Come on, Potter, stop finding them excuses! How come Umbridge wasn't run out of Hogwarts the second she and her allies almost murdered McGonagall! You outnumbered her! Except you didn't, just like we joined the squad, because we all figured she was were the power was and that there was little we could do against it."
"I thought your father was the power at the Ministry."
"Me too." Draco's bitterness cut Narcissa to the core. Her son finally turned to her. She had years ago modified the see-me-but-notice-me-not spell invented during her school years so it didn't affect blood family.
Potter started as she made herself visible to him once more. His wand was out. Narcissa couldn't help her own shudder, and the instinct to raise her own wand. Potter lowered his arm, a flush darkening his face.
His green eyes were still wide in alarm. "How did I not notice you? I know nobody can apparate in the shop."
Narcissa explained the selective invisibility spell.
Potter's hand instinctively rose to cover his forehead. "I would have killed for a spell like that..." He straightened, defiance squaring his jaw. "So, about Mr. Malfoy?"
Narcissa took a second to collect her thoughts. Perhaps it would be easier if she thought of Potter as Lord Black. It was not weakness to answer such a question. It was instruction. There was too much ignorance in the world.
"For Lucius, it was convenient to have allies in high places. A few corrupt allies in a well-functioning Ministry is a powerful tool. Unfortunately, everyone had become someone's corrupt ally and nothing was particularly well-functioning." She took a slow breath. "The last century has seen the number of people working in the Ministry balloon, from a couple hundred to almost two thousand. Children, cousins, friends have been given jobs just by virtue of family connections. The competent often were pushed out when they protested. Often they simply left, preferring to work just about anywhere else. Is it surprising that most in the ministry, aware their power hung on to blood ties and social networking, would start seeding distrust on the magically powerful, on those who valued erudition, and later ban magic itself? Is it surprising that Umbridge demanded loyalty? That demands for accountability were deemed disloyal ? Did Meda tell you that her daughter had to downplay her skills and integrity to become an auror?" Potter blinked in surprise. "Ask my sister about it." Narcissa's voice softened. "You'll find her not unhappy to talk of Nymphadora."
Sadness filled Potter's face, but his eyes stayed narrowed in concentration. "That... that makes sense. But isn't this what you wanted ? People valued because of their blood and not their abilities ?"
Morgana. "No."
Potter (Lord Black) stared, the question loud and clear in his green eyes.
"I believe purebloods are superior because we are not outsiders to our world. We learn, or should learn, a love of magic. The same founding stories have been passed down since the days before Merlin. True wizards and witches do not simply repeat the spells of others. They craft, they make magic theirs. They root magic through houses and objects, they create instead of just using. They are not afraid of Dark Arts. It is about values, and a state of mind."
Potter opened his mouth. Narcissa raised an arm in a placating gesture. "I'm aware all of this can be learned and taught. We chose to exclude instead, and I understand why muggleborn are angry." Wistfulness entered her tone. "I would have readily adopted a muggleborn toddler and raised them Malfoy had it been possible. The family, had it been wholesome, would have been allowed to keep contact, but muggles are not equipped to raise a wizarding child."
Potter (Lord Black! Morgana, it was so difficult, with those guileless green eyes and those traits foreign to the family) stared wordlessly at Narcissa. Then he turned to stare at Draco. Her son stiffened defensively.
"What do you want me to say, Potter? I... Merlin's guts, Potter! I wanted to be what I thought Father wanted me to be, and instead Granger beat me at every test, you were the Quidditch star, and every House Cup was about the Golden trio. I didn't know how to make a place for myself, and I figured being your enemy made us equals, somehow. I thought you figured you were better than everyone, since you didn't deign talk to anyone except Weasley and Granger."
"Why everybody expected me to be outgoing and confident... I'm not... I'm not arrogant ! Why couldn't people come to me?"
"I did-"
The look Potter gave her son. "Yeah, you insulted Hagrid, then Ron and you -"
"It's proper for the person of highest social rank to make the first contact," Narcissa intervened. "It makes it harder for sycophants to ask favors. It forces the high born to pay attention to other people. Any children raised magical will have interpreted your silence as a conscious decision to not mingle with them."
Potter blinked. The pain in his eyes was blindingly obvious. He hadn't known. Morgana, he truly hadn't known.
Draco took a shaky breath, a blush creeping up his neck. "I... I begun first year, content with having Crabbe and Goyle, and then I saw you with Weasley and Granger. It was obvious that... I... I've become a better friend, or just, you know, a friend, but it wasn't until fourth year that I could honestly call... I realized in sixth year just how much people saw my status and not me, while you -"
"Merlin, you were jealous of me?" An laugh followed those words. "Malfoy, you were a pain in the ass. Honestly though, I wish you'd been the worst thing at Hogwarts. I hated you and Sna-" Potter trailed off, his words swallowed as his whole body slumped against the book shelf.
"Severus lied to me too," Draco snapped. He took a slow breath and seemed to come to a decision. "You... he hated you and saved your life and I bet it was... confusing for you, Potter. But he was supposed to be my godfather. He wasn't because of the mark, but I never doubted that he cared. I didn't realize until it was too late, how much he had to lie. How I was allowed to believe things because... because the Dark Lord reads minds. Because I... I was too weak to keep him out."
It cost him to admit it, and even more to admit it to Harry Potter. Narcissa squeezed his shoulder, proud.
Potter's eyes darted from Draco to Narcissa, who stiffly willed herself to keep her composure. Oh Severus, why didn't you flee? He couldn't have killed you through the mark, not in so little time. Potter then looked to the ground, looking very much like an upset and overwhelmed teenager.
"Teddy is family. You're his godfather," Narcissa finally said. "They chose you. Andromeda values that more than blood. We're no threat to you."
Potter blushed, his arms crossed tight across his chest. "I don't think that-"
"Don't apologize, Potter. Do me a favor instead. I want to talk to Weasley. George."
"What for?" Potter said, eyes narrowed warily.
"Because he's the reason the kids we crucioed last year screamed like banshees despite our, at least my, spells being under-powered. It's this candy he and his brother invented. That and other things that made it easier to survive the Carrows. Severus would give us some. I... I think Weasley should know."
Potter was silent for a long time. He finally squared his jaw, and Narcissa caught a glimpse of the young man who had organized a band of teenagers into one of the war's decisive forces.
"We can go together," Potter decided. "Right now."
George Weasley was quiet young man, with a freckled face darkened by thick rings around his eyes. There was something awkward about how he stood, angled as if a second person should be in the empty space next to him. His speech was sometimes choppy, sentences begun, then left hanging, then hastily finished when he would notice the awkward silence.
Narcissa was quiet herself. Painful memories of another set of twins, of helplessness and fury, stirred uncomfortably. Memories of a still baby. Gleeful descriptions of torture. The announcement she was barren. Vengeance that tasted like ash.
The nephew of Fabian and Gideon Prewett took Draco's apology, and his revelations, with relative grace and a fair amount pride. Still, when the time came for questions, he didn't hold back.
"So what is you lot's actual problem with us? With the Weasley family?"
Draco, unsurprisingly, looked to her. It seemed this would be remembered as the Day of Unusual Forthrightness.
"Arthur Weasley spends his time tinkering with muggle artifacts. I think the two of us have invented a comparable amount of spells. He's magically rather brilliant. People dismiss him because he's absurdly obsessed with muggle contraptions, and he's too nice and meek. As for Molly Weasley... I'm not so surprised that she out-dueled Bella."
The three boys were staring at her wide-eyed now.
"I remember her during the late seventies. Few people in the order matched that woman in either magic and purpose. Don't think she wasn't on the front lines. That changed after her brothers were captured and killed. I... I was told Dumbledore had been against that particular mission, but the three of them persisted." Narcissa swallowed back poisonous guilt. Narcissa hadn't just known that Bellatrix had been after the twins. She had wanted them to pay for those unending months of carrying her unborn, unmoving baby, desperate for Severus to find an antidote. Those who had directly poisoned her had been out of reach, but not the twins, who had helped them flee the country. "Molly barely made it out alive the day they were captured. Days later, your brother William almost was killed while she was out. I'm not all that surprised she put her family first after that, even if it made others dismiss her."
Shock, pride and guilt warred on George's face as he seemed to digest the words.
Draco's expression was unfathomable. "Mother, I apologize for thinking a better mother would have shared her past with me earlier. It seems everybody has secrets, even Molly Weasley."
"So," George said, his eyes suddenly crinkling. "The root of the great Malfoy-Weasley feud, on the Malfoy side at least, is that Lucius Malfoy thinks my parents are a wasted opportunity?"
Narcissa smiled slightly. "Something like that." And pettier, more visceral, reasons. Molly and Arthur, walking around with seven children. A large happy family. So stretched thin, when Narcissa could have offered so much to children of her own. "Also they're insufferable and make no secret of despising us."
George laughed, genuine despite the edge to it. "Well, that's certainly mutual."
"Hey, you want to give me a hand with Grimmauld Place?"
Draco frowned at Potter.
"The ancestral Black house," Narcissa supplied.
"It's why I was at Ollivanders' when we ran into each other... I don't know how to make the place feel right. Some days, I just want to tear the walls down, set fire to the carpets, and make a whole new thing. I... I know the Manor's going to be taken from you, so..."
"Potter, living together, us?"
"No ! No, I mean... I..." Potter's shoulders drooped. He looked like he wanted to hug his knees to his chin and disappear into the ground.
Narcissa steadied him with a hand on his upper arm. The teenager stilled, but some of his panic seemed to ebb away.
"I have a lot of memories of that house. We played, with Cousin Sirius. I can show you how we managed to make the dreary place a home. We don't have to make big life decisions today."
Potter's own smile was surprisingly bright. "I'd love that actually. Thank you Mrs. Malfoy."
"And Draco -" Draco turned to her, taken aback by her stern tone. "Mr. Potter is Lord Black. And your cousin through my aunt Dorea, his grandmother. It wouldn't do to forget it."
The two boys faced each other, sizing each other up with apprehension. At first glance, they were like day and night, Draco, well-groomed in proper tailored robes, standing straight and stiff, and Potter slouching in his mismatched overlarge muggle-like attire. His messy hair and thick spectacles made Narcissa itch to fix him up with a few grooming spells. Of course, beyond the clothes, they were two skinny teenagers who'd lived through too much and were struggling not to drown.
Potter's lips twitched.
Draco sighed. "Lord Black, I'm warning you: Malfoys bow to no one." The words were choked, an obvious jab at the dragon in the room. But at least most of the overt hostility was gone.
Lord Black chuckled dryly. He seemed to have shaken off part of the invisible weight dragging him down. "Keep it that way, Malfoy. There's been way too much bowing."
Narcissa squeezed Draco's arm. She was proud of him. "Before we leave you alone, is there anything we can do for Miss Granger?" she said.
Potter's face lost all lightness. "Hermione's strong," he snapped. "She's fine."
"Well, I'm not fine with what happened in my home. There are ways to remove scars and physical ailments, to dull horrifying memories. I'm sure Miss Granger's courage and energy are best spent rebuilding the Isles rather than coping with those horrific scars." Narcissa took a slow breath. It was no use snapping at Potter. "Besides, I mean it when I say I value magic. We lack the spells to rebuild Hogwarts. Miss Granger is a remarkable learner. I, and Andromeda of course, have a lot we could teach you. William Weasley is someone I would be curious to work with, and perhaps it's time to ask Arthur Weasley if he wants to craft spells outside his... garage."
"Wait, you're not just trying to make nice just because us lot have the power now?" Narcissa flinched at George's Weasley's biting tone. His eyes were tight, and yet there was something in his expression that made Narcissa believe the young man wanted to trust them. "Merlin's buttocks," George continued with a thoughtful frown,"you actually mean it when you said you were sorry."
Draco fumbled for a suitable reply. Narcissa just smiled slightly. "Obviously, you're quite the spell-crafter yourself, Mister Weasley," she said, waving her hand at the enchanted paraphernalia all around them. "People desperately need laughter now, but I wouldn't want you to think we're overlooking you. There's a lot you could teach us too."
George actually blushed. Morgana, these boys were all so young.
"So Potter, want to see us or not?" Draco said, his whole body thick with tension. Narcissa was reminded she needed to have another conversation with him about social graces. He couldn't afford to take out his frustrations on the very people who had helped them avoid Azkaban. And it seemed a shame, after so much soul-baring, to not take the opportunity to make their relationship amiable at least.
"Right. Yeah. Yeah, I... As in, Ron, Hermione and I, we go to the pub on Wednesdays. Why don't you come this time?"
Draco's eyes narrowed. "How muggle is it?"
Potter grinned unabashedly. "Very. Nobody has a clue who we are."
"That sounds wonderful," Narcissa said, her warmth unfeigned. "Send me Kreacher to confirm if your friends are amenable to our presence."
She didn't expect anyone to forget. She didn't care much for forgiveness. But there was no one left she was afraid of. She had no excuses left. Her parents were dead. The Dark Lord was dead. The title of Lady Malfoy had once brought her status and comfort, but Andromeda was right: it had made her complacent. Now was the time to craft the world she wanted to live in.
"You know, there are muggleborn kids who need a home," Hermione Granger told Narcissa on their first 'pub night' before they'd even finished their first drink. "Death Eaters infiltrated obliviators and targeted muggleborn too young for Hogwarts. A few, protected by their accidental magic, managed to flee and survive. Their families did not. There are also all the Hogwarts-aged muggleborn who lost family..."
Narcissa blinked. She hid behind her glass of white wine (not too awful, but surely there was a more high class muggle pub in London?) to give herself time to answer.
"Perhaps I can do something for them? In a way that won't... make it worse."
Granger nodded slowly, her searching eyes never leaving Narcissa's face. Trust would take time, but Narcissa was fine with that.
1998 - early Autumn
In the end, Narcissa convinced Lucius that they both needed to take an active role in finding the Manor's new owners, instead of awaiting Shacklebolt's decision like a man waits for his own funeral. Lucius, gripped by a brooding lethargy since the end of the war (and before that, perhaps, but terror had kept him sharp, then), was less help than he should have been.
Unlikely aid came in the person of Percival Weasley. "They want revenge, Mrs. Malfoy : we'll have to make a big deal about forcing you to do this. Just make sure to look suitably upset. It'll work out much better than if they figure out you don't mind."
Working for the Ministry had made the young man develop a healthy streak of cynicism.
Limited to two spelled suitcases each, and so the equivalent content of a two-bedroom house, Narcissa and Lucius had finished packing their essentials. Lucius paced in the halls, his eyes grasping onto furniture, upholstery and portraits. To all the things they would have to leave.
"I can see it already," Lucius fumed. "The Reception Room spelled into an ice-ring! The Hall of Ancestors, made into a menagerie!"
"It will remain whole and a place of magic. And we owe her, Lucius. She was treated abominably and she was nothing but graceful in her testimonies."
"It's my home," Lucius hissed through gritted teeth. Which was as much of an acknowledgment that Narcissa was right as she going to get. "And now you exile me to my sister's without even an end date in sight, while you find home and perhaps even adopt a gaggle of muggleborn children. I wonder if you'd not be relieved if I didn't come back."
"Lucius, you are ill," Narcissa said flatly. The self-loathing comments about Narcissa leaving were growing uncomfortably common. This couldn't go on. "An illness of the mind is no less an illness. You do not enjoy what Azkaban and this war have done to you any more than I do. I want you to be able to sleep through the night. To look out the window and see the future, not past horrors. To be able to muster excitement in the morning for the day to come." She squeezed his hand, willing nothing but confidence in her voice and bearing. "I'll be very happy when you come back. And I expect you to uphold your responsibility as husband and father in doing all you can to heal." She couldn't admit her fears. Lucius was too fragile. Being strong for two, hiding her uncertainty and moments of weakness from her own husband, for years to come, was a daunting prospect.
Lucius glowered, his pale cheeks flushed, but he did squeeze back.
A chime signaled someone had passed the front door.
"Vincy! Check-" Lucius snapped his mouth shut when he remembered Vincy did not serve them anymore. "Having to answer my own front door to unannounced visitors like some idiot..." he muttered through gritted teeth, lengthening his strides.
Narcissa had to run to keep up. "Lucius," she hissed in warning, before he could blast the door open.
Dirty blonde hair and wide gray eyes greeted them behind the inner gate.
"I thought you were to come tomorrow," Lucius said stiffly.
"Yes." Luna Lovegood's air of detached serenity was something to behold. "Reporters and gawkers would have come, so I decided on today. We can leave a nice sign on the gate for the others tomorrow, to tell them there is nothing to see."
Her smile was perfectly polite and guileless. 'A nice sign'. Narcissa was impressed.
"Welcome," Narcissa said, mustering a smile of her own. "Please come in. I prefer it to be an intimate affair too. Draco is at Pansy's, he will be back for dinner."
Luna wasn't alone. Behind her, her father Xenophilius hovered nervously, looking distinctively out of place in his tweed-and-leather suit. Give that man a rucksack and he looked ready for an expedition in German forests to seek out sylphs.
Lucius began a pointed tour of the manor, highlighting the architecture, the furniture, the ornaments and, when Luna would narrow her eyes at specific doors, tapestries or encrusted ornaments, the attached wards and magics. As the minutes went by, the bite in his tone softened. Luna was openly curious, and even Xenophilius, despite his obvious discomfort, seemed slightly in awe of the place.
"This is very ugly," Luna said as she stopped by a copper oriental lamp. A foot in length, it stood on the bedside table of the windowless room that had been decorated to look like a sixteenth century ship captain's cabin (of the magical kind, of course). The lamp was cracked in places and disfigured as if the metal had somehow melted. "The nargles love it so much they're leaving the rest of the room alone."
"Yes. A creature had once been tethered by it." All the storytelling seemed to have reinvigorated Lucius. "My ancestor Delphinis bartered for it, charmed by the promise of a powerful slave. Of their party of five, she alone survived the trickery of the djinn and only because she undid its tethers and it favored freedom over revenge. The lamp is hungry for a new captive and still attempting to twist its magic back into a suitable cage. This bedroom is never used as such. It is a memento of the greatness and follies of the family."
Narcissa, who knew Lucius' tales by heart by now, was more interested by Luna herself.
"Have you ever seen a master, Miss Lovegood? You seem to have a sensitivity to magical auras. It's a valuable gift to cultivate."
"Her mother too," Xenophilius muttered, flashing Luna a smile thick with adoration, pride and grief.
Luna, for the first time, looked nervous. "Garrick has started teaching me. He needs time to get better, but he is a master, or as good as. He... I wanted him to come with Daddy and I today. Voldemort destroyed his house too, you know?" It was there, the steel buried beneath the dreamy exterior, not even a flinch when saying the Dark Lord's name. "He said he would come, but later."
Narcissa suddenly didn't know what to do with her hands. Her face. Her whole body. What did you do when your home had become prison and worse? What could possibly be said? "The Manor has quite enough room to accommodate you all. I hope Mr. Ollivanders will be able to make himself at home."
"I don't know," a breathy voice from the far wall interjected, "is he interesting? We must suffer boring when it's blood, but given a choice..."
Half-hidden behind a large cabinet covered with rolled up maps, Delphinis stared at them avidly. She had been captured in enchanted paint in her sixties, in a room not unlike this one, wearing white trousers gathered tightly at the ankle and a fitted orange-and-white vest, her head bound in a turkish fashion that had caught her fancy during her travels.
"Garrick Ollivanders has been crafting wands since he was old enough to polish wood, Captain. Boredom shouldn't be an issue." Narcissa promised. It went without saying that with crafting came selling, and knowing the core and wandwood of a wizard or witch, was, for a man steeped in wandlore, a goldmine of information. Some old families had used to swear their wandmakers to secrecy.
"And a master of auras I hear. Well, well, good job, I say. Lucius, young man, come to visit when you've enough adventures to share, will you? Modern Malfoys are like peacocks in a coop, barely poking their noses out beyond their own gardens."
"They speak modern English," Luna said, her head cocked to the side.
"Too much would be lost without the communication enchantments." Lucius' bitterness, his brittleness, was starting to show through again. "The older portraits would be irreversibly diminished were we to move them, their magic is too entwined with the Manor's." Only Abraxas' portrait and his sisters', Lucius' aunt, would come with them.
"I usually like portraits. I talked to a lot of them at Hogwarts. They were easier to talk to than people." Luna turned to Narcissa with those disarming pale eyes. "Harry told me Sirius' mother's portrait is nasty."
Narcissa's lips twitched. "Walburga's a horror. Malfoy portraits weren't painted to tell their descendants who to be and what to think. They're a boastful crowd eager to reminisce about their greatest exploits and spin outrageous tales. You might especially like Adiona and her line, notably Diana, Ulysses and Moccus, they had a passion for rare creatures and spent half their lives preparing faraway expeditions. You'll find them on the third floor of the East Wing."
Luna's eyes lit up.
"Don't believe half of what Adiona says," Lucius warned. "She'll try to convince you she found an island in the tropics with a species of miniature dragons capable of bonding with wizards, communicate telepathically with their bonded, and confer them a resistance to magic."
"Pseudo-dragons?" Xenophilius whispered excitedly. "Where?"
Narcissa was glad. For all their eccentricities, these were good-hearted people who loved magic, and whatever they did with the Manor, they would respect it. No doors slammed, no lights dimmed, so it seemed the house itself had decided to be cautiously welcoming of its new owners.
"So what will you be doing while we're away?" Draco asked that evening.
Luna and her father had left to gather the last of their own belongings. Draco looked both upset and wholly relieved to have missed the girl's visit. The last time the two had talked must have been muttered half-words as Draco sneaked her food while Luna was a prisoner of the Dark Lord (Bellatrix had known. She had used it against Narcissa, trying to convince her that her son was too soft, too weak and not deserving of Narcissa's love. Bella had not told the Dark Lord, thankfully, but Narcissa ached when she remembered this twisted mix of sisterly loyalty and blackmail, all too aware that Bella, stripped of her happy memories, had lost almost all frame of reference on how to bond).
The Malfoys were now guests in their own (former) house, having initiated the transfer of the wards. Tonight, both they and the Lovegoods would sleep here, and tomorrow, she would go to Andromeda's, and Lucius and Draco to Mauritania, with no set return date.
Narcissa wasn't worried about having enough to keep busy. "Oh, I'll be making dementors extinct."
Draco blinked. "Mum?"
"Lord Black sounded enthusiastic, even if it's Bellatrix's spell. We just must test alternatives to the killing curse to strike the killing blow." Reducto, sectumsempra, and an assortment of not-quite-unforgivable curses were high up on the list. "It's time to stop using hungry dementors as an excuse for a deplorable justice system."
The war had been torture and silence and lies. Narcissa fiercely looked forward to some no-holds-barred righteous destruction. Besides, she owed Bella, and cousin Sirius, that much.
This is it for Narcissa (for now at least)! I hope it didn't disappoint. And now, time for the last Black sister to take the spotlight.
