Five For Silver
Narcissa has always been pale. Mama and Papa's picture-book princess. Bonny and fair. As a child she relished being different to her dark-haired, severe-featured sisters and mother. Everybody told her how beautiful she was, and she liked to boast that her looks had made Mama and Papa break the Black tradition of naming children after constellations. But despite being the one without the star name, there's always been something shining about Narcissa's appearance. Not just pale but glowing white. Not simply blonde but shimmering.
But this hair, Narcissa ponders as she holds the strand out in front of the mirror, is different. This isn't the shiny white-blonde that Narcissa has such pride in. This hair is a dull pencil-led colour. It is grey. If Bella was here she would tease Cissy for the tear which now tracks its way down her cheek. Bellatrix has always been impatient about Narcissa's vanity (Cissy used to assume smugly that it was because she was jealous, although in truth Bellatrix had never had much interest in beauty). Vanity, however, is not the reason Narcissa is crying. The tear and the others that follow aren't for her hair, youth or beauty. They are for her normalcy and security, her husband and son. Her life. Her family. Her Draco, blundering down the mad path that the Dark Lord makes him walk. A schoolboy cannot assassinate his headmaster. A teenager who passed his OWLs weeks ago stands no chance against the wizard who defeated Gellert Grindelwald. Lucius is locked away and Narcissa is powerless to help either of them. A few weeks ago she had begged Snape to help Draco; he'd made an unbreakable vow. Bella is scornful and suspicious towards the potions master but Narcissa had little choice left. Severus is Draco's only hope. Dumbledore is suspicious of him too, something the Dark Lord finds amusing as the headmaster's trusting tendencies are his greatest weakness. This is true, but Dumbledore is an incredibly powerful man: politically, historically, in experience and skill and cleverness. Draco has been set up to fail and the Dark Lord's wrath will fall on them all.
Draco had changed so much over the Summer. He'd been a late developer, still a boy when Vincent and Gregory had long since morphed into men. But Draco's growing now, he's taller than Narcissa. His voice had finally broken during the previous school term so the Draco who said, "Hello, Mum," as he stepped off the train hadn't sounded like her son. A few weeks later, after his meeting with the Dark Lord, he'd got his hair cut, shearing off the last of his white-blond waves, Narcissa's waves. His boyish voice and hair are gone and, leaving in his place an intense, frightened, steely boy who is nothing like Narcissa's Draco. His short hair looks fuzzy but the few times Narcissa has ruffled it or kissed his head it's felt prickly, like his temperament these days. Lucius has always been the disciplinarian so Narcissa doesn't know what to say to Draco's pugnaciousness. Shopping in Diagon Alley a few weeks after he'd taken the Mark, Draco been scornful towards her and had eventually slipped away. Cissy had been worried, but when Draco re-appeared at her side he'd shrugged and said that he'd been with Zabini and the Greengrass girls, and Narcissa mustn't have heard when he told her where he was going. She'd scolded him but Draco shrugged. Narcissa could tell that he'd have strutted and preened in front of his friends, the kind of swaggering bravado she's always found so attractive in Lucius. She'd done the same that day, hadn't she? Acting politely to those who deserved it and scornfully towards those who didn't, making necessary small-talk but shutting down any hint of a mention about what's happened to Lucius, buying Draco his new robes and books as if everything was normal. The Malfoys know how to act.
Bella, Roddy and Rabastan have been living at Malfoy Manor since their escape from prison, and over the Summer Draco had spent more time with his uncles. He's always been a Mama's boy so Narcissa struggled not to take it personally. She tried to tell herself that he needed his uncles because he was missing his father, but of course it was more than that. Draco was one of them now. The day he had taken the Mark had been even worse than the day Lucius had been taken away. It was a couple weeks after he'd been home for the Summer, before their trip to Diagon Alley. Draco had dressed all in black- he thought it made him look grown-up but to Narcissa he looked like he was dressing for a funeral.
"I don't want you to come," he told Narcissa coldly.
"Draco-"
"No. You're not coming,"
"It's alright, Narcissa," Rabastan said gently, "I'll be there,"
"I'm his mother!"
"I can make my own decisions," Draco snapped, "I want Uncle Roddy and Uncle Rabatsan there but not you two,"
He didn't want Bellatrix there because he felt intimidated by her. He didn't want Narcissa there because he felt superior to her. He'd been so proud, and now he evidently believes himself to be above his mother. But he's also overwhelmed and afraid. When the Lestrange boys brought Draco home that evening he'd looked exhausted and pale. As Narcissa had refused to take the Mark, she was only allowed to watch from a distance on the evening, years ago, when her husband and sister were given their Marks. Bellatrix had breezed forward and thrown a vicious grin in Cissy's direction before turning to the Dark Lord. Even from a distance Narcissa had seen her sister's chest heaving with fervour. Bella had thrust her arm out firmly, and screamed and cackled as the Mark was branded on. Cissy couldn't tell if her sister was feeling pleasure or pain. When it was Lucius' turn he'd stood completely still. Jaw set, eyes fierce. Narcissa was in awe of his fortitude. When they'd got home she'd asked if he wanted the Mark tending to; she liked looking after him. Lucius had let her put a cold flannel around the reddened Mark and Narcissa had run her fingers through his silky hair and told him how brave he'd been, how proud she was of him. She should be able to care for Draco in the same way, but he won't let her. When Rabastan had brought him home Narcissa had hurried down the stairs to meet them but Draco brushed her off and went upstairs to his room. She'd noticed, though, that the skin on his bottom lip was chewed raw. Narcissa couldn't help but imagine Draco nibbling on his lip with nerves, or biting down on it to stop himself yelping in pain. Is that what he'd done? Or had he had his father's Stoicism? Narcissa doesn't know how her son would have reacted, and that hurts almost as much as the thought of Draco in pain.
Narcissa had always got on well with Roddy and Rabastan, the latter particularly. He's sweet, and he'd doted on Draco when he was baby. It's a relief to have them both out of prison and safe. But having them at home is starting to feel cloying. The Lestranges have always been outdoorsy types and Narcissa doesn't blame them for wanting to run and ride in the fresh air after fifteen years' incarceration- if only they remembered to shut the gate and change their boots when they come inside. Narcissa's not used to living with sweaty, rugged men like Rabastan and Roddy. There's a stable at Malfoy Manor which, when Cissy was first married, was home to Lucius brown mare, D'Argo. Lucius had sold her a few years ago and the stable had been left empty, until this June when the Lestrange boys had stolen themselves a pair of horses from a Muggle farm. Rodoplphus and Rabastan take good care of the horses, but Narcissa didn't ask for more animals around. Moreover, three extra house guests and two horses cost money, and with Lucius in prison...Narcissa hates to admit it even to herself, but finances are a concern. As escaped prisoners, the Lestranges' monetary position is somewhat compromised, and none of them can get a job. Narcissa's never had to worry about money before. How shameful it is on both their Houses. She's losing control in and of her home. Everything has changed so much and keeps changing for the worse, and Narcissa is powerless to do anything about it. Her control and security are ebbing away. She is drowning.
Her husband is locked up, and Narcissa doesn't know when, if ever, she will see him again, or what will be happening when she does. After the verdict and sentencing, a Ministry guard had accompanied them home (Bellatrix and the Lestrange boys had made themselves scarce for the day). Narcissa had stood with her husband in the drawing room and Lucius, who had always been so assured, looked lost. He didn't know what to say. Narcissa wanted to tell him that surely the life sentence he'd been given would not transpire to be so. The Dark Lord has control of the Dementors; they'll free him like they did Bella and the others. But that's merely a hope- the Dark Lord had been so angry at Lucius. Will he help him now? And what will Lucius be like when he comes out? Rabidly caricatured like Bellatrix has become? Throughout everything Lucius has been a strong and loving husband. If that changes it will be the most unbearable thing of all. Perhaps, Narcissa thinks tearfully, the Dark Lord will break Lucius out of prison for him to witness Draco fail at his task. To watch the Dark Lord kill their son.
And then there's Bella. Narcissa has always been afraid of her big sister and now it seems that Bellatrix is truly unhinged. Her fifteen years in prison have made her more mercurial and hysterical than ever. She refuses to admit that the Dark Lord's plan for Draco is cruelty, insanity, impossibility. Bellatrix had taught Draco Occlumency over the Summer, barking at him that he'd need it.
"He's only a boy," Cissy insisted one evening when she'd managed to get her sister alone, "Be gentle with him,"
"Of course," Bella agreed in a distracted tone, "But you want him taught properly, don't you?"
Narcissa didn't want him taught at all.
"I'll be strict but fair," shrugged Bella, which meant nothing.
"I mean it. If you lay a finger on him-"
"Like his father does?"
Narcissa blanched, "What do you mean?"
Bellatrix looked at her shrewdly, "Draco will be a good Occlumens. He's used to hiding things from you,"
"Lucius has never hit our son," Cissy snapped, stung, "You've been locked up for most of Draco's life, you don't know a thing about our family,"
Bellatrix's taunts made Narcissa even more nervous about leaving Draco alone with her. She loitered outside the drawing room during their practice sessions. Bella has been stern but not cruel and Draco was a fast learner. Clever boy, Narcissa thought proudly. But Bellatrix's teasing rankled. In fifteen years Narcissa had got used to being an only child so her big sister's re-appearance, in this way, a caricature of her calculated girlhood snideness, is jarring. It's not as terrifying as Bellatrix's fanaticism and unpredictability, but it's more personal and unsettling. Yet another way Cissy has lost control.
Narcissa slams the hairbrush down onto the dressing table. No. She will not be defeated by a single grey hair. She will not give in to this loss of control, however small it is. No more. She will straighten her back, grit her teeth and thrust out her strong Black jaw. She will perform like a Malfoy. She will stop allowing the Lestrange boys to treat her home like a hotel. She will not rise to the bait of Bellatrix' ridicule any longer. She will be the man of the house while Lucius is absent. She will be strong for her husband and son. And, Narcissa realises suddenly, there is something she can do to help Draco. She can write to Snape. She'll send him a brief note inquiring how he is and asking after Hogwarts news- people know that they are friends so nobody will think anything of it. Except for Severus. He will know that Narcissa is thinking of him and his Vow. He'll be reminded that he should be afraid.
Narcissa holds the strand of hair out again. This colour is not a sign of age or vulnerability. This hair, and the others of the same colour that will inevitably follow, show her courage and integrity. This hair is not grey, Narcissa decides. It is like the rest of her; shimmering and beautiful. Special. Bold. This hair is silver.