Rodolphus stole a quick glance at the young woman beside him. Though he could only see her bare, creamy back and tangle of jet hair, he knew she wasn't asleep yet. In one swift movement, he rolled over and curled an arm around her waist, burying his face in her neck. He promptly received a shock powerful enough to cause his arm to go numb.
"Ow... aw, fuck, honey," he groaned, jerking back. "This isn't fair. And that hurt."
"Then stop touching me," she bit back.
"I didn't do anything!" he exhorted. "I defended her! I let him know he fucked up! I don't deserve this!"
"You're a man. A disgusting, selfish male. You don't deserve sex."
"I've never cheated on you!"
Bellatrix turned over to face him, eyes flashing. "You are his friend. You should have killed him when you had the chance. Then you'd have redeemed your maleness."
"Bells, I'd've gone to Azkaban, and there would have been so much paperwork..."
"Oh that's right- I forgot you're too stupid to read."
"Damn it, Bellatrix!" he grabbed her wrists, ignoring the the deep pulses from the electric field she'd cast over her skin as he pinned her hands to the backboard of the bed. He dropped his forehead so it rested against hers. "Make. It. Stop," he snarled in the back of his throat through gritted teeth. She shot him a defiant glare, but the painful shocks ceased. He eased his weight onto her, smirking darkly. "Good girl," he crooned, rasping his rough, unshaved cheek against her silken one.
"Don't patronize me," she snapped. "I hate you all right now. My baby sister- she's such a hopeless romantic, and she would never suspect that anyone would do that to her- she's such a good, pureblooded girl. I hate him. And I hate you," she added for good measure, though most the anger had left her tone. "I'm going to kill him."
"Oh, babe, don't do that," he cajoled. He rolled over, propping his head on his fist and running his hand across her throat, pressing his thumb against his jugular, idly constricting her windpipe. He continued to squeeze until she shot him an impatient look, and she demanded, as air flooded back into her lungs,
"Well, why not?"
"Cissy probably wouldn't appreciate it in the long run," he murmured, tightening his hand again. She swatted him away, annoyed.
"She hates him, too."
"No she doesn't, sweetheart," he insisted, fisting his fingers in her hair and tugging. "She's hurt. But she'll marry him," he predicted confidently. Instantly, a painful shock jarred him, and he released her hair with a hiss.
"Don't say things like that!" Bellatrix cried, enraged. "She'll do no such thing."
Rodolphus was tired of arguing the point. He rolled onto her once more, savoring the way in which her eyes slid longingly over his arms. He knew his Bella loved power more than she loved him; he knew she was far more besotted with the fact that the fact that his bicep was larger around than her thigh than she was with poetry or flowers; he knew that she ran her hands eagerly over his chest and ridged abdomen because she wanted to feel the physical manifestation of power under her fingers rather than give him any sort of pleasure. He didn't care though; they didn't need the tangled emotions that had set their closest compatriots at odds.
"Whatever, sweetheart," he growled, grasping her hip roughly. She wasn't a small or dainty woman, but more often than not he covered her with bruises, even on nights he tried to be gentle. He needn't have worried; she hated being treated delicately, and the deep scores her nails left in is back and shoulders discouraged tenderness. "Can we just fuck already?"
The next day, Narcissa returned to classes, as usual. She ate in the Great Hall, as usual, and studied in the Library, as usual. She did her homework in the Common Room, as usual, and then went to sleep. Nothing felt real. Sometimes, Narcissa was able to convince herself that she was moving through a nightmare, and others, that the months she'd spent with Lucius had all been a dream. She couldn't think straight to sort out her emotions, so she scarcely tried. She moved on autopilot through each day, throwing herself into school work, and rarely moved anywhere alone, keeping friends or Bella nearby at all times. She remained carefully deaf to Lucius's attempts to speak with her, ignoring his approaches and heated glances.
However, she couldn't help but notice that he stayed away from Francesca. Though the older girl tried numerous times to confront him, he refused to have anything to do with her. But it was too late for that- Narcissa fought not to see. She didn't want to care anymore, didn't want to love him, but she didn't know how to stop.
Night was the worst. She'd become accustomed to sleeping in his bed, and felt so lonely. She missed the sound of his breathing beside her, the careless brush of his arm when he rolled over, his general nearness...
She wished he would stop trying to talk to her. It only made things worse, made her loneliness seem self imposed and futile. She had worked so hard to trust him, and had loved with such abandon once he'd won her confidence. She had always considered herself independent and strong minded, a notion imposed upon her by dear, ferocious Bella, but now she felt hopelessly lost. She hated herself all the more for it.
The days inched into weeks. She tried not to notice the way Lucius had interest in no other girls, or the loathsome looks Francesca gave her. She needed only to survive until June, and then Lucius would be out of her life. She threw herself into studying for exams, unable even to spend time with friends.
It was one night, in early May, that Narcissa felt another body crawl onto her bed. She had just managed to drift off, and knew precisely what was happening. These sorts of dream were what she lived for now, though she'd had only a small handful. Furthermore, she needed to be careful; it would not be unlike Lucius to crawl into bed beside her in real life, when she was disoriented and helpless.
If she was awake, if this was real, he would try to make love to her, or mutter more weak excuses. And if this was a dream, he would just hold her. She waited, making no effort to increase her awareness. She would hate to wake herself up and miss this. His head tucked beneath her chin and, settling his weight against her, he stilled. She smiled sleepily and stroked his back, convinced that this was not actually happening. Lucius would never be so submissive in real life.
"Narcissa," he groaned, and suddenly his shoulders began to shudder, and he was sobbing softly into her shoulder. Certainly, this was a dream. She cradled him tenderly, letting her affection spill forth in sleep. He buried his face in her throat and curled his arms around his waist. The wetness from his tears was soaking her nightgown, but she didn't care.
"Narcissa," his voice was hoarse, and for some reason, her dream seemed to be on the verge of dawn now.
"Lucius," she sighed.
"Come with me," he pled, clasping her hand. "Narcissa, I need you."
"I can't," she breathed. Even in her dream, she wouldn't delude herself. "No."
His hand in hers began to shake again, but he nodded curtly and sat up, placing his feet on the floor. "I love you," he murmured miserably, staring at the floor. Abruptly, he rose to his feet and strode from the room. She sank into deeper sleep once more, and this time, she did not dream.
The Common Room was strangely subdued when she went down the next morning. Habitually, her gaze wandered to Lucius's seat, but only Bellatrix and Rodolphus sat by the hearth. Both seemed surprised to see her.
"Bella," she whispered, because there seemed to be no other sound in the room, "what's going on?"
Rodolphus looked upset. That certainly worried her the most- she'd never seen such an expression on his face.
"Didn't you hear? Didn't he tell you? I thought you'd gone with him."
"Tell me, Bella!" she snapped.
"I... didn't he spend the night in your bed last night?"
"What's going on?" she cried in frustration and growing panic.
"It's his mum," Rodolphus spoke at last. "Rosalind was in an accident. They haven't found her yet... but there were no survivors. They're... they're looking for her body." He rubbed his face, eyes pained as he stared up at her. "He's gone home this morning. Last night, he said... well, I figured he wanted you to go with him."
Narcissa sat down abruptly, feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of her. "He... Mrs. Malfoy? But, what happened?"
"She is... was... very involved in charity work, and St. Mungo's had an annual event, in South Africa this year. As a main benefactor, she agreed to go- she goes every year. But the only way to cross sub-Saharan Africa is by magic carpet; there are no floo hubs in between. They hit a sandstorm midair, going over some sort of rock outcroppings... They've found all the bodies but three."
Narcissa's extremities went numb. Her face sank into her hands, and her breath came in quick gasps. She'd met Rosalind mere weeks ago- sweet, sunny Mrs. Malfoy who'd kissed her cheek before she'd boarded the Hogwarts Express and whispered, "I'm sure we'll be seeing you very often in the future, dear." And Lucius-
Lucius. Her stomach wrenched as she thought of his tears on her neck, the way his shoulders had shaken as he clung to her. He must be crushed; she could not dream of being in his position without a jolt of abject terror. She didn't even want to begin to imagine the state Abraxas must be in, knowing he'd never see his wife, his love, his best friend ever again.
"I have to go," she announced breathlessly, stumbling to her feet. "Oh, I have to go now. He's... they're... he'll be... Bella," she whirled to her sister, eyes bright with panic. "Bella, I have to go to him!" she cried. "How to I-"
Bellatrix frowned. "Cissy, I know you're probably worried about him, but that doesn't negate what he did to you. Let his stupid whore go comfort him; it's all he deserves."
Narcissa's jaw slackened in disbelief at the callous words. "His mother is dead! Help me, Bella! I have to go!" she was on the verge of hysteria, her worry making her dizzy. But Bellatrix would not budge.
"I just don't think-"
"Oh, for Merlin's sake," growled Rodolphus, rising to his feet. "C'mon, Cissy."
"Roddy, don't you dare-"
But he'd already seizing Narcissa's wrist, causing her to gasp in pain, and was dragging her from the Common Room.
"You'll explain to Dumbledore what happened. Ask for the carriages; thestrals'll get you there faster than the train. Besides, the train will only take you to London anyway, and he'll be at the Manor. THe funeral will be tomorrow morning at dawn, since the accident was three days ago, and Malfoys always have funerals the fifth day after death as the sun rises. He'll need you there for that, Narcissa, because there'll be a lot of people there. I know you're going to want to comfort Abraxas too, but don't." He stopped suddenly, causing her to collided into his back. He spun around, bending so that their eyes were level and mere inches apart. "Don't try. Don't even speak to him unless he says something to you first. Lucius will be upset, but Abraxas will be in agony. He won't recover from this, but Lucius will." He resumed their rapid pace, tightening his hold on her wrist. "If you're still angry with him... well, you're entitled to your feelings, but maybe put them on hold for a bit."
"I would never say anything, not after his mother..." She couldn't say 'died.' She just couldn't.
"Good. Alright. This is Dumbledore's office, just tap the stone and he'll let you up. He- er, doesn't like me much, so I'm going to go persuade your sister to pack for you." He turned to go, and Narcissa glanced down at her aching, black and purple wrist before extending shaking fingers. After a pause, the large griffin moved aside to allow her to ascend.
"Miss Black. I thought I might be seeing you."
"Professor Dumbledore, I need to ask-"
"I know, Miss Black," he interrupted softly, gesturing that she should take a seat. "You are, no doubt, concerned for the wellbeing of young Mr. Malfoy."
She nodded. "When he asked me to go with him, I was half asleep, I didn't understand what he was saying, I didn't realize-"
"Miss Black," he silenced her once again, lifting a hand. "I understand. Thestrals would be the most convenient mode of transportation; however, since they are given a XXXX rating by the Ministry, and there are not trained specialists available to act as a guide, you will be unable to depart until the train, as well as an owl of consent from a parent, arrives back at the school."
"My mum won't mind, and what time will the train be here?"
"This evening, at nine o'clock."
"Nine?" Narcissa echoed, aghast. "But I have to get there right away!"
"You should arrive in London around five tomorrow morning. I'm afraid there's nothing more I can do for you."
Narcissa wanted to argue, but the old man's eyes were apologetic and kind. "I'll owl my mother now," she announced stiffly, rising to her feet.
"Very good. And remember- nine sharp."
The steady beat of the train pistons droned into Narcissa's subconscious. She should be lulled to sleep, but her mind hovered too close to sorrow and panic for unconsciousness to overcome her. A large part of her wanted to go to Lucius, kiss him, and allow their relationship to resume. But a small, fierce part of her still ached terribly from the knowledge of his lies, and knowing the true reason for his interest in her. The death of his mother was bigger than the trivialities of their relationship, and she could put her own pain aside for now to share his, but it absolutely could not remain. She would be there for him in every way that he needed while he was grieving, but after that, once he was all right again, she would need to withdraw.
Suddenly, she was aware that the train was slowing- had she fallen asleep after all? It seemed so, because though it was still dark outside, she could make at the lights of the platform. She would catch another train to Wiltshire, and she needed only to pass through Surrey and Hampshire for that. It was nearly five though; she feared she would not arrive on time. Rodolphus had told her that the coffin would be settled into the earth as the sun first appeared over the horizon, which would be in about an hour. Her next train left in fifteen minutes.
She seized her trunk and hurried down the aisle, and stumbled onto the predawn chill of the platform. Even the Muggle part of King's Cross was mostly deserted, though fortunately, the second train would take her to the village on the outskirts of the Manor. This train was small, without compartments, and she and an older wizard were the only ones in the car. The countryside seemed to drag by, and each time she glanced at the time, too much seemed to have passed. Was it her imagination, or was the sky growing brighter?
The first rays of sunshine peered of the horizon as Narcissa stepped onto the quaint old station platform. Abandoning her trunk, she gave up hope of locating transportation, lifted her robes nearly to her knees and took of through the sleepy little town. The gates to the Manor were not far off, and elegant carriages lined the yew-hedged lane. The wrought iron gates stood open, and she managed to reach the front door, panting hard. A house elf responded to her knock.
"Where's the funeral?" she gasped. "Where are they?"
"They is being in the back, through the woods and on the hills, where Malfoys is buried." It gazed tearfully up at her, as she sucked in a quick gasp of air and rushed in the direction indicated. The leisurely strolls around the Manor over the holidays helped her navigation now; she didn't allow herself to pause and think that that was over now; that after this funeral, she would never return here. She instead focused on keeping her footing, and noting what a dreary day it was turning into- in fact, rain seemed to loom threateningly in the clouds, and the chilly gusts picked up once more.
She spotted Lucius and Abraxas at the peak of the hill. She had missed the burial, but a long line of guests, swathed in black, waited to offer condolences in a dark procession. Narcissa brushed past them, weaving in an out of murmuring bodies as she scampered up the hill, unaware and uncaring of disapproving glances.
"Lucius," she breathed, drawing up beside him and grasping his hand. He lifted his head, started by the sound of her voice, and made a swift movement, as though he would hold her, but restrained himself. Instead, his fingers tightened crushingly around hers, and he turned to quietly accept the condolences of another mourner. Narcissa admired his composure, and glanced around to see how Abraxas was coping.
Clearly, he was unwell. His skin was pale and sallow, and while his robes were immaculate, she noticed tiny flaws that belied the fact that he was unable to function properly without Rosalind: his cufflinks were improperly fastened, his cravat was askew, and his hair looked uncombed. However, more concerning was the blankness of his gaze. He stared silently, with empty eyes, at the ground before him, either refusing to acknowledge or perhaps genuinely not hearing any who approached him. Narcissa guessed the latter.
A guest lingering particularly long before Lucius drew her attention suddenly, and she listened critically to his words.
"- and while you know I offer my deepest sympathies, Master Malfoy, your father seems unresponsive to my words and it's rather and urgent matter. Perhaps you could help me?"
Narcissa's eyes moved surreptitiously to Lucius expression. He was frowning, both confused and offended.
"I'm afraid not," Lucius replied tersely. The man persisted.
"I understand my timing isn't ideal, but my investment represents a significant amount of-"
"I really don't think-" Lucius tried again, glancing uncomfortably at his father, who seemed to not notice the exchange.
"I'll be brief; if I could just step inside after ceremony-"
"My mother is dead," he bit out.
"I understand, and no one could be more sincere in his condolences than I! But I must request-"
"Excuse me, sir," Narcissa cut in coolly, "But I must ask you to move along. There are other guests here." She offered a cold smile and, keeping a tight grasp on his hand, turned Lucius pointedly to the next mourner. He seemed disconcerted by the encounter, and moved his hand to the small of her back.
There were only a few people left, and Lucis breathed a low sigh of relief when he'd shaken the last hand.
"You came," he whispered simply, wrapping his other arm around her shoulder, and resting his forehead against hers.
"Yes," she replied, resting against him. "Should we go inside?"
He shot a brief glance at his immobile father.
"Yeah, let's. He'll come in when he's ready."
"It's started raining," she pointed out, unwilling to abandon Mr. Malfoy.
"I know," Lucius assured her, guiding her towards the Manor.
"It's as though... as though even nature knows that it should be mourning."
"No, Mother loved days like this. While everyone else was complaining about the weather, she'd walk barefoot in the back gardens, just singing and laughing. Father hated it; he'd always say she would get pneumonia and-" his voice caught, and he broke off. "She would have loved today, at any rate," he finished gruffly.
Narcissa stopped and took his face gently in her hands, standing on her toes to press a soft kiss to his lips. He permitted her light pecks for only a moment, before lacing his fingers in her hair and dragging her closer and sliding his tongue between her lips.
"Narcissa," he gasped as he pulled away for a quick gasp of air. "You can't leave me." His words were punctuated by deep, desperate kisses. "Not again. I need you."
"I know," she whispered, stroking his neck. "I know you do. I love you," she confessed.
He did not notice that she failed to agree to his demand.
(A/N: Poll time. I have two different endings for this in mind: A happy one, and a less happy one. I'm leaning towards happy, since I put this under the 'Humor' category, but you tell me. I may post the other once regardless as a sort of 'Alternate Ending', but I'd like to hear your opinions. Thanks guys :)