The bed was soft, softer than she was used to, the smells foreign. Narcissa only had a distant, nauseous awareness of her body.
A blurred figure moved not far from her. Slowly, her vision cleared. She was in Hogwarts' Hospital Wing. Andromeda sat at the edge of the bed, her smile relieved.
"Hello, little sister. You overreacted."
"What?" Narcissa mumbled, exhaustion keeping her deeply tucked under the covers.
"She just wanted to break your wand, apparently. She had not taken into account that you can cast wandlessly."
She - "Who?"
"A student. I didn't ask who. I was afraid I would do something people would have frowned upon."
Flying in the storm. That invisible barrier. The fall. Pain, mud. Her wand, snapped. Panic. The forest. More pain. Then darkness.
The fog in Narcissa's mind was beginning to dissipate. "Would I have frowned upon it?"
Andromeda's lips quirked. "Probably not."
Her sister was close, and yet the effort it took to raise her hand and grasp the edge of her robes left Narcissa gasping for breath. "What happened? Who found me?"
"Hogwarts' house-elves apparated you back covered with some venomous substance from the forest. You were magically exhausted, your body just shut down. It's Sunday afternoon."
Two whole days. A shiver ran up Narcissa's spine.
"Narcissa!" Poppy exclaimed, her white robes flapping as she hurried over. "Oh good!"
"Do you know who attacked me?"
Poppy's smile faltered. "They need help. What have we done to help people grieve? There's just not enough mind-healers..."
"Do I need to show empathy to whoever tried to murder me today, or can I wait until I am able to walk to take the moral high ground?"
Poppy chuckled ruefully. "I know it doesn't help, Narcissa, but she didn't mean to murder you."
No. Narcissa had just overreacted to an attack during a storm. She'd stupidly figured someone who'd break her wand would also want to break her.
"I need to cast my diagnostics. You should go find Mr. Potter, Lady Black. He made me promise to send him word and your sister might not be awake in another hour."
"Who was it?" Narcissa whispered once Meda was gone. "I'm not going anywhere, just tell me."
A pained frown dug deep lines in the matron's face. "Lucia Greengrass," she said after a time. "She is to be expelled tonight."
Narcissa sunk deeper in the mattress, hollowness invading her chest. Why? Those Greengrasses had barely been involved with Death Eaters and never been targets of the Order of the Phoenix. They'd come out alive, physically, economically, and even socially. And yet… Lucia's hateful glare the day Narcissa had found Astoria and her friends playing music, that stubborn quietness is class… What else had she missed?
"I'm so sorry. You must think I should be more outraged." Poppy wouldn't meet her eyes. "I-"
"I'm not asking you to hate any student," Narcissa said tiredly. Morgana, she was more helpless than a baby kneazle. "You were there during that year."
"We all have nightmares, but the kids... I've never had so many asks for sleeping aids." The matron summoned a couple of potions and began pouring one out in a copper cup. An odd expression crossed her face as she put the empty vial down. "This one is one of the last Severus brewed. I won't claim I suspected Albus had orchestrated it all, but I did believe that Severus was a reluctant servant. He just... conveniently forgot so many of the things he could have used to make our lives more difficult. So I asked for things, potions mostly, when I needed them, just like I had always done."
That Narcissa hadn't known. "He must have been grateful for that."
"I'm fine," Poppy said, with a soft smile that made Narcissa actually believe her. "But I know I'll dream of him for quite a time. It haunts me, to think of what the kids must dream of."
Narcissa didn't want to think of it. Her own sanity hung on to that selfishness.
For a couple more days, Narcissa floated in and out of sleep. She got told off by Pansy for having grown complacent and let her guard down, listened to Harry ramble as if any of this was his fault, and had Minerva assure her the Hospital Wing was safe.
Narcissa kept waking to an increasing pile of cards. Some came from students she'd known liked her, others surprised her. Dozens came with only a single line 'This wasn't okay.' with stamped house sigils and initials. Lions, eagles and badgers piled over and around the snakes, and she dared believe she was still welcome at Hogwarts.
When her eyes fluttered open on the fifth day, she almost felt like herself. The dim magical lights told her that the winter sun had yet to rise, and that classes would not begin for hours still.
She felt watched. Gingerly, she sat up, searching for a presence in the gloom.
"Hello, Narcissa."
She started, surprise, good surprise, making her heart race. A familiar male hand grabbed hers and gently helped her upright.
Her smile broadened as she gazed upon her son's face. But it was wrong. The way he'd spoken. His touch. The way he held himself. The way he looked at her.
"Lucius," she breathed. "You came." She hadn't seen him since the Summer. She'd never realized how cruelly expensive international portkeys were until she'd had to start working for money.
"Of course I did. Shall I steal you from here? You look better than I feared."
Her long nightdress became robes, an illusion of those velvet-lined, expensive robes that would now forever be something Narcissa had used to buy. He lent her his wand and she could finally untangle her mess of hair and feel like she hadn't spent a week sweating toxins with her face shoved in a pillow.
Despite her bare feet, she felt like he was taking her to the Yule Ball. Many old-blood mages were ostentatious in company, but even in private Lucius had never quite stopped behaving as if they were courting. It should matter little, compared to the disaster his associations had brought upon their family, and yet it made it so much easier to forget her resentment and to remember why she had wanted him.
He let her lead him to an open study room with a beautiful view of the starlit grounds. As soon as he erected privacy wards, a glamour covered his polyjuiced form with his true appearance.
Narcissa's smile deepened. His true appearance, yes, but with a solid decade erased. She leaned over to kiss his lips, clinging onto him as much from lingering exhaustion as from longing.
"You still want to teach here?" he asked as they gazed upon the inky blackness of the lake, his arm around her waist.
I wish you'd come to stay with me, she heard. "Yes," she simply said.
It was this wedge between them : Britain. The country where Lucius would forever be the disgraced Death Eater, somewhere between criminal and victim. In Mauritania, Lucius had not only seen a mind-healer, he'd gotten involved in trade and exports, joining a vibrant international merchant community that valued his talents more than it cared for his past. It was obvious he was thriving, for all that adopting a working man's rhythm and being only one among equals had taken some adjustments.
"You need this," Lucius agreed after a time, his gray eyes tight. "Remaking Britain, your sister, the children... Those who don't yet admire you soon will." He sighed. "I contemplated it, a future where we'd go our separate ways. I know Draco warned you about Durra, but she's not the threat he fears. She's a delightful, attractive, willing woman who never saw me weak and who... made me realize I still feel quite married."
Narcissa laughed softly. "I refuse to apologize. I'm glad you didn't come to tell me on my hospital bed that you were leaving."
Lucius looked horrified at the prospect. "I've arguably been evil, but coarse? Please." He kissed her knuckles and she giggled like a girl.
Morgana, she was glad to see him. He shouldn't be here. The Ministry had been more eager to get their hands on the Malfoy fortune than to send him to Azkaban. Nevertheless, during those last months in England, Lucius had been forbidden to leave the Manor's grounds. To be here, he should have first demanded permission to return to the country and consented to constant auror supervision. Impersonating their son to get a portkey clearance, coming to Hogwarts… This was so terribly illegal.
"On the topic of evil," her husband added, "shall we plot revenge or is that too... passé?"
"She's a child. We'll use this to diffuse tensions and avoid new incidents."
"Darling, there's planning for a wholesome future, and there's making sure no witch and wizard will dare act against you. There always will be somebody who loathes you. There must have been at least whispering voices pushing the girl."
At least one adult that Narcissa could socially tear down. It was nice, to have someone wholly on her side. She kissed him again, a sigh escaping her as his warm lips hungrily sought hers, his fingers curling into her hair.
"They underestimate you," he said in the crook of her neck. "I trust you to navigate your revenge in a way that will serve your new friends' interests. Or... in Gryffindor terms, sit well with their principles."
Narcissa leaned closer. She'd missed this feeling of impunity. This lack of worry about what others would say or think, about what was allowed. Once upon a time, they had made the rules.
"Is Draco aware of… this?"
A shadow crossed Lucius' face. He took a step back, not quite facing her anymore. "I did not involve him and he chose not to notice. I suspect he's more concerned for the two of us than we are. I... I'm not sure how to talk to him of it. He... He used to boast to all that I was more powerful than the Minister, and now he seems to be waiting for me to fail him again, and to fail you."
"These things take time," she softly said.
Lucius bowed his head, stubborn pride giving an angry glint to his eyes. "It's frustrating but perhaps I do deserve it."
Abruptly, he dispelled the glamour, pulling her behind him as the door slammed open, as if there had never been a ward. A disheveled Harry and an irate Minerva McGonagall stepped through.
"Give me your wand before I hex you off the grounds, Lucius Malfoy," the Headmistress said through clenched teeth. "The arrogance! After everything that has happened in this castle, you think I wouldn't know. A favor, take it as a huge favor, that instead of rushing here, I went to wake Mr. Potter and took my time."
Her husband's eyes darted to her, Narcissa inclined her head apologetically. It's not like Lucius could start dueling Minerva.
Faced with his former professor's ire, Draco would have looked abashed. As he surrendered his wand with deliberate slowness, Lucius in Draco's skin looked instead like he was indulging the older witch, which only infuriated her further.
"I am not covering for you, you fools. Gone are the days Hogwarts' safety is entrusted to the Headmaster alone. The list of those who come and go in the grounds are visible to the Board of Governors."
The Board. Narcissa swayed, her exhaustion catching up to her as she realized everyone would know by breakfast.
The Headmistress slapped a potion in Lucius' hand. "Now drink this. It's a mass dispel. If you're imperioed or… Just drink the bloody potion."
It was a much paler Lucius that was revealed as every spell, from the polyjuice to everyday cosmetic glamours, was stripped from him. Even the thin scar on his cheek, courtesy of McNair after Lucius had lost the Dark Lord's favor, was plain for all to see.
"Still yourself?" Minerva said, her lips pinched.
"I've never been so much myself, Headmistress. I assure you I only wanted to see my wife."
"Good. It won't damn you, considering the circumstances. I hope it was worth it, lovebirds."
Being called lovebirds in such an exasperated tone by her former Transfigurations Professor made Narcissa feel like a disobedient child. And that was utterly unacceptable.
"Might have been," she said with forced lightness, "had you given us twenty more minutes."
Harry coughed, reddening. Morgana, the lad was too old to be so easily flustered. Minerva's gaze softened just enough to prove she might have led it all go had it just been up to her.
"Why bring Mr. Potter? Greetings, by the way."
"Hi, Malfoy," Harry said with the callous grumpiness of someone who'd been counting on two more hours of sleep.
"Because your wife trusts him and I need your cooperation. You're just about to spend a few days with a lot of important people scowling at you. Stay civil and you'll be fine." Minerva's lips quirked drily as she turned to Narcissa. "I don't imagine there's a vault you inherited from the Black side that we can seize?"
Why were people so convinced she had a secret hoard of galleons somewhere? "Father was in debt when he got himself killed in Mexico, and he had made a point to leave a will disowning me. He never forgave me for not letting him live with us at the Manor." As for Cassiopeia, she had vanished somewhere in Europe in the year after the first war. As was Gringotts' policy, the goblins had declared her dead after a decade of non-contact, in the early nineties. In absence of direct heirs and a will, the witch's assets had been frozen. The sums hadn't been large enough for Narcissa to bother to try to claim them. Narcissa's last owls, sent in the late eighties, had returned exhausted and frustrated. They had been of the most expensive breed, specifically trained to find people who had disappeared and left no addresses. She and Lucius had organized a funeral ceremony shortly later. It had seemed the proper thing to do.
"I can't believe your Father thought you'd let him stay with you," Harry muttered.
"Oh, you'd be surprised how a strong sense of entitlement makes people able to utterly disregard reality, Mr. Potter."
Minerva was staring straight at Lucius as she spoke, all pretense of subtlety forgotten (but then when had Gryffindors ever been subtle? This was righteousness at its finest).
"I'm still glad you came," Narcissa said pointedly, slipping her hand back into her husband's. "Harry dear, your buttons are attached unevenly."
Harry stared down at the robes he'd thrown over his pajamas and scowled at the sartorial disaster. "Did Poppy say you were allowed to leave the hospital wing today? If not, you won't hear the end of it."
Honestly, Narcissa just wanted to lie down. Her earlier burst of energy had faded into the now infuriatingly familiar weakness. But even in this new world, appearances mattered very much, so she made sure not to slouch. "Then I'd better let you walk me back and let her cast her diagnostics."
The aurors were not able to discern any motive to Lucius' presence outside his visit to Narcissa. He had not talked to anyone between Portkey Arrivals and Hogwarts nor cast any spells aside from apparition and appearance alterations. The International Owl Relay confirmed that they hadn't transferred a single letter from Lucius in months. Further investigations revealed he hadn't been in contact with anyone still considered at risk by the new Ministry.
Lucius, of course, did not fail to point out that there had been many past cases where a wizard's duty to assist their spouse had justified minor law breaking. He then started asking after the people who'd accepted the most money from him during the Cornelius Fudge years. I have already been charged with corruption, but what has happened to them? Fudge himself, back at Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, and condemned to finish his working years in a mid-level job, must have blanched when aurors came to ask if it was true he had 'forgotten' to mention the sixty thousand galleons Lucius had 'gifted' him between 1992 and 1995. Aurors had then predictably demanded to know why Lucius had withheld such information so long, and he had had no qualms reminding them that he had not been asked, and that he was pleasantly surprised to see that the new Ministry was serious about chasing down corruption.
It took less than three days for it to be decided that prolonging the inquiry against Lucius was a waste of time, a security risk, and more trouble than it was worth.
The Daily Prophet had made great strides to recover its reputation, yet, comfortably settled on one of the Hospital Wing's couches, Narcissa had to raise an eyebrow as it became clear that the day's edition had devoted a whole column to the fact that she and Lucius used telephones to communicate.
'In these years of increased open-mindedness, does the Ministry risk being blindsided by the use of muggle technology by former blood supremacists?'
Had any of those mooncalves ever tried to communicate internationally? Owls and bulk portkey shipments took days (and she wasn't naive enough to think any letters she or Lucius wrote would pass the Relay unread), there was no international floo, and the methods diplomats used were unavailable to the common citizen they now were. House elves could have been a solution, but even they could not apparate great distances unless they were bound to the person they appeared to.
'Here I am trying to picture Lucius Malfoy, disguised as a common muggle, walking up to a phone booth and dialing numbers, no doubt contemplating how his magic has been surpassed by muggle ingenuity.'
Narcissa was too well bred to roll her eyes. Even Andromeda, who held low expectations of Lucius, had not been surprised he'd readily welcomed her suggestion (oh, Meda had been smug, but Narcissa could forgive her that).
"So, you actually are still with your husband."
Startled, Narcissa reached out with her magic by reflex.
Demelza Robins gaped as her wand was yanked out of her robes and zoomed towards Narcissa.
Narcissa herself stared at the wand now in her lap, her heart racing painfully. Disproportionately painfully. She took a slow breath, recognizing her outsized panic for what it was. You didn't drain yourself using Dark Arts without lingering effects. It had barely been a week.
"I wasn't going to hurt you, Professor," Robins whispered, a question in her eyes as she slowly walked over to take her wand back. "I never wanted you hurt, you know. I just came to drop off some potions." Narcissa eyed the black-haired young woman warily. It was 7 AM. Who woke up that early to deliver - "I want to become a mind-healer. There's some basic healer stuff to master before I can specialize, so Poppy agreed to tutor me to give me a leg up."
Oh. "We need those, mind-healers." What a trite thing to say.
But the Gryffindor smiled tightly. "I got lucky, no wounds, my family's fine… The war was awful but it's also the past, you know? It doesn't cling to me like it does to some of the others. So I should help. I want to help."
And what did one say to that? "That's good."
Robins narrowed her eyes at her. "You must love him then. It does sound like he loves you."
Thrown back decades in the past, Narcissa recalled a wide-eyed young Regulus, asking a similar question not so far from these very rooms. Except this time, her answer held no uncertainty. "Yes. And of course he does."
"Guess nobody's perfect," Robins muttered, but there was no bite to her voice. She shook her head. "Astoria's working up the courage to come talk to you. She didn't share but I think she's figured out what's up with her cousin."
"So she did suspect-"
"Nooooo," Robins said, as if it was a ridiculous thing. "Tory likes you. Honestly, had I suspected something like this, I'd have told Prof. Weasley. We don't need this shit. You- you don't deserve this," she said with an expansive gesture at the walls around them.
"I'm happy to hear you say so. I hope the others will feel the same."
Robins rolled her eyes. "You Slytherins need to knock it off with the persecution complex."
Persecution complex? "It's a lack of paranoia that let a sixteen year old catch me by surprise."
Robins blushed at Narcissa's pointed tone. "Okay, but Lucia lost it, Ma'am. Even those who hate you, they hate you normally. Like, they'll laugh if you trip and fall over in class. They'll gossip. They won't, say, poison your food or..." a mischievous glint entered Robins' dark eyes, "fake a relationship to break a guy's heart and make him fail his OWLs."
Narcissa blinked. Gossip alright. "I'm flattered that story is still being told," she said with a small smile. Hate her normally. That word meant nothing and everything, and unexpectedly warmed her.
"I was kind of hoping you'd tell me it was grossly exaggerated, Prof. Because it's insane."
Insane. Had it been? Perhaps, yes. A girl like Demelza Robins would have no doubt just hexed Vance for his lewd comments and left it at that.
Narcissa simply smiled. A bit of mystery was needed to keep the students in line. "You wouldn't want to miss breakfast, Miss Robins."
Poppy was soon back with the results of last night's blood samples. The ones who would tell her if all traces of poison had been purged from her system. "All good," the matron announced brightly. "Last restful day and you're back to teaching the little monsters. We have a couple of wands in stock if you need one."
"I'll go buy one tonight, thank you." She'd waited because… because she didn't need a good reason to want to avoid Garrick Ollivanders, and she didn't have a good enough reason to buy a wand from someone who wasn't the best wand-maker in the Isles. She'd been happy to distract herself with Meda, Reggie and the kids during the last couple of days (and grumble because it was such a waste to have Lucius in England and not be allowed to visit). She'd written Ollivanders, and he'd answered she was welcome in his shop. She almost wished he'd told her to stay away.
Narcissa nevertheless walked to the dungeons more serene than she'd been in days, intent on intercepting Astoria Greengrass before the girl left for class. She doubted learning Lucia's motives would be enough to convince her that no other student wished her ill to the point of raising a wand to her, but at least -
Her train of thought was stolen away by an odd shimmer. She reached for a wand that obviously wasn't there and bit back a sigh. She turned to the nearest portrait, a grouchy-looking red-haired witch that was trying to drown a overly large centipede in a cauldron with her ladle.
"Didn't see anybody cast anything," the witch said without lifting her intent eyes off the flailing monstrous insect.
The shimmer was stronger if anything. Almost a presence. Was a disillusioned student toying with her?
But just like Hogwarts' stairs often seemed to guess where Narcissa wanted to go, someone soon appeared, or more accurately, floated towards her, his ghostly medieval robes reflecting the enchanted torches.
"Greetings, Baron. I'm curious, can you see if this is a ward, or simple residual magic?"
The ghost reached forward and to her surprise seemed to latch onto something. For a second, the shimmer became an almost humanoid outline. Someone short, perhaps a boy.
"Almost here, lad," the Baron whispered, his free hand curling his mustache in fascination. His deep voice echoed slightly, as if from another age. "A guardian that one. He's latched onto you."
"I don't understand."
"The exorcism that was done after the battle made the castle uncomfortable, even for us. Its effects linger still. This one is struggling to manifest." Slight outrage bled from his otherwise slow and measured tones. "Every ghost has and anchor, a purpose. Hogwarts screamed when blood was shed on its stones and this one answered."
A ghost from the war? Who - "Can you help them?"
"No, but perhaps you can, my lady."
"How?" Narcissa breathed.
The almost-ghost suddenly shimmered more brightly. A distinctive pop had Narcissa look to the ground.
"Another?" the elf's squeaky voice exclaimed, her eyes wide in alarm. "Where? Where is we needed?"
Narcissa blinked. After Meda had told her elves had rescued her, she'd assumed the wards themselves had somehow detected her distress. She'd not thought to ask- Morgana, she didn't learn, did she? Hogwarts' elves were intimately linked with the castle and apparently, they could hear this spirit.
"You're needed here," Narcissa said. "This ghost needs help, it can't stay like this."
The elf peered at the shimmer, her long ears drooping. "Elf magic needs orders. A professor's words not being strong enough for Lonny to work such magics."
"Then get the Headmistress, she'll want to be bothered for this." Lonny disappeared, leaving Narcissa with a thousand more questions. Could it be that Dennis had been right? "Is that you Mr. Creevey?"
Again, the presence seemed to gain definition. Morgana. It really was.
"Why could he not manifest before his brother?"
"Guardians grow stronger when they are needed."
Poor Dennis had needed -.
The corridor suddenly became cramped as Minerva popped into view. Lonny was soon followed by four other elves.
The older woman seemed to both straighten and wilt when Narcissa had finished explaining. Sadness and pride warred on her lined face.
"Oh, child," she whispered, "it shouldn't have been your responsibility. Well," Minerva told the elves crisply, "I want him to be able to talk to me."
Five heads snapped to the ghost, as if whipped into action by synchronized imperius curses.
Narcissa had been outside during the Battle for Hogwarts. She had seen the barrier of wards, the animated statues. She had stepped on grass grown hard and hooked, struggled to walk into sticky unnatural mud, and wrapped herself in charms to breathe despite the choking wind howling against the Death Eater's brooms. But she had not been at the heart of Hogwarts, and so it was the first time that she felt it, the stirring of millennia old enchantments strengthened by generations of wizards and witches that had loved these walls like a second home. The magic surged around her, dwarfing hers. She shivered, instinctive awe and terror leaving her lightheaded.
It was over in seconds. A translucent boy of seventeen, with the same mousy hair and slight build as his brother stood before them, and spoke. "Nobody will be killed at Hogwarts ever again."
Narcissa's hand grasped Minerva's arm, and it wasn't clear who was steadying whom.
"Thank you, Colin," she managed.
The broad grin was much at odds with his previous solemn announcement. "It's nothing. I'd pictured Malfoy's mum as someone much nastier."
Narcissa sucked in a breath. "Was my son truly such a terror, Minerva?"
The witch's cheeks pinched, as if to swallow back a laugh. "He had a power complex and muggleborn students were often the butt of it." Minerva decided to take pity on her. "He was full of words but rarely hexed other students. He always put reasonable effort in his classwork."
What glowing praise.
"I didn't like you much either when you were a student, Narcissa," Minerva said with a shrug. "And look, you turned out fine."
And now the witch, her boss, was teasing her. Brilliant.
Next to them, Colin Creevey smiled, a boy's happy smile, almost carefree.
Minerva cleared her throat. "Please get Dennis down here, Lonny."
Dennis, amazingly, took it all in stride. "You always wanted to be a superhero," he said, his eyes bright as he grinned right back at his big brother. "I need to get the camera. Mum and Dad won't believe this."
Slightly dazed, Narcissa was still smiling as the wall slid into itself to reveal the Slytherin common room. It hadn't changed all that much since her school years, the ever-present greens and silvers, the muted magical lights that gave it a feel of being underwater, the sprawling couches and thick armchairs that belonged to another age. Only nowadays, the whole room stilled when she entered it.
"I'm looking for Astoria. She's not in trouble." They all kept staring at her. "Yes, I'm fine. Now, is she in her dorm and if so, which one is it?"
The students quickly busied themselves with whatever they had been doing (adding panicked last touches to essays due today for all too many of them), but many were biting back smiles.
Prefect Twycross came up to her. "She just came back from breakfast. This way, Professor."
Her light brown hair tied back, Astoria had been packing her bag for the morning classes. She jumped upon seeing Narcissa, and then looked upset at herself for startling so easily.
The seventh-year cleared her throat. "Serves me right for not coming sooner." She glared pointedly at her two dorm-mates and Twycross until she and Narcissa were alone. With a tense smile, she pulled an envelope out of her trunk and handed it to Narcissa.
"That's not just an apology, Professor, it's quite self-serving too."
Narcissa blinked as she discovered two return portkey tickets for Mauritania valid for the Yule period.
"You promised me a contact at the Chinguetti orchestra, and well… I checked with your sister. She said you had no plans for the holidays and that you'd be happy to see your family. I'm of age, I can keep myself busy if you don't want me underfoot."
Narcissa shook her head slightly. Astoria and Andromeda, plotting behind her back. And Astoria buying expensive things when she felt guilty. How very old-blood Slytherin of her.
"I don't blame you."
"I know, Harry Potter told me. He's kind." Astoria crossed her arms, lips twisting in distaste. "I had all the clues and didn't see it. You are truly recovered? Novgorod has a great hospital and portkey system. It's where my great-grandfather went last year."
"Your family doesn't trust Saint Mungo's?" It was telling that Minerva hadn't even considered moving Narcissa there. The medimages had seen horrors during the war and while most would never endanger a patient, some had snapped, forgetting the line between justice and revenge. Theodore Nott's mother had died in the hospital just after the war in very dubious circumstances.
"None of us were marked, but come on, we collaborated," Astoria said bitterly. "It was the safe thing to do. The other side didn't kill you for not helping them." With a wave of her hand, she signaled she didn't want to talk further of it. "I assume you came to ask me why?"
Narcissa nodded.
"Lucia dated a muggleborn in her third year, Daniel Webster. He was in my year. Funny guy, sweet. She was head over heels for him. Still is. My aunt and uncle hate him on principle of course… Daniel got his wand snapped."
Narcissa shut her eyes briefly and went to sit on the bed. She could now almost fill in the blanks herself.
"He managed to get out of Britain in time but his parents never did. He's at Beauxbatons now. He had to repeat a year to be accepted there, and learn French, but he didn't want to come back. He won't reply to Lucia's owls. I think he asked her to run away with him during the war… She can't get over the fact you look happy."
"Whereas she can't be."
Astoria hummed in agreement as she let herself fall next to her Head of House. "I don't get why you, but she decided you deserved to be shown what it felt like, to lose your wand."
Narcissa couldn't deny she was angry, furious even, but, had someone come between her and Lucius before they'd married… Nobody would have found the body. As to why her… No doubt because Narcissa had been there, and Lucia had been desperate for someone to blame.
"She knew she'd be expelled... She plans to go to Beauxbatons."
Of course she did. "Will Beauxbatons accept her?"
"I think so." Narcissa frowned. Astoria's tone said I know so. "She's been in contact with muggleborn, older ones too, some who moved to France after the first war and who became important over there." The young woman's jaw clenched. "Maybe they didn't encourage her to do anything to you, but they sure told her she was right to be angry."
A sudden hollow sense of waste tasted bitter in Narcissa's throat. She had almost lost her son because of vengeance taken by muggleborn. They'd stolen her ability to bear children. And now, again, crimes against a muggleborn had indirectly almost caused her death. It had been so easy to dismiss mudbloods as irrelevant, and now she could not escape the consequences of such callousness. Did it ever end, this cycle of pain?
"It's not enough for them," Astoria muttered. "Some of the muggleborn consider everyone who wasn't directly opposed to Riddle guilty. They want greater reparations than just being told they'll now get an equal chance at jobs or that even the wealthy and powerful will have to respect the law."
Lucius was right. There was a lot of leftover pain and anger from the war and Narcissa couldn't afford to stay a target. She had to do something.
Something effective. Something legal.
First, she needed a wand.
This 'post-war' arc aims to show how the living Blacks are fitting in this changed wizarding world. I'm having fun writing it, I've edited the summary and the first chapter intro to make sure people realize what they're getting into.
Like it, hate it, bored? I want to hear it all^^.
