Note: I am back, after a long, long absence. I apologise folks. If you hadn't already got the news, I recently suffered not one but two serious falls and badly injured my dominant wrist, rendering me unable to type. I am almost fully recuperated now and I hope you enjoy the chapters after the long wait. This one is longer than usual. I was so happy at being able to type again that I think I went overboard.
Note2: Spot the Sweeney Todd reference… And my dig at the DH film make up crew.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Laughter and Lebkuchen
Narcissa knew, without having to open her eyes, that this was not in any way going to be their happiest Christmas. How could it be with so many spectres dogging their existence? At that moment in time, remaining alive and on the right side of the malevolent presence haunting her house was far more important than festive celebrations. Narcissa hadn't bothered putting up any decorations this year, and no-one appeared to have missed them.
It would not, however, be their worst Christmas. That title would always be reserved for the previous year, the only Christmas that she and Lucius had spent apart in over twenty years of marriage. She still did not like to think of her waking up on that bleak and cold morning to be forcibly reminded of her husband's absence. This year, he was here, and Narcissa was certain that for this simple reason, the festive day would not be as miserable as the last one had been. Finally, she opened her eyes and found herself face-to-face with Lucius's back. She ran a finger down his spine, partly to wake him and partly to reassure herself that she had not slipped into madness and concocted an effective mental mirage out of despair and loneliness. When he made no response, she levered herself up on one elbow and peered over his shoulder, her long hair falling into his face.
"Are you awake?" she whispered.
"No. I'm fast asleep."
"Good, good. Maybe you'll wake up when I wish you Merry Christmas?"
"Screw Christmas."
Narcissa rolled her eyes and hovered for a moment, eventually coming to a sensible if unsatisfactory conclusion and kissing Lucius's cheek before dropping back onto her side of the bed. She stared up at the canopy over them, one that had been a blind witness to many things over the years. Oh, to be a young honeymooner once more…
She pushed the thoughts aside and decided that getting up was probably the best course of action. She had already heard Draco moving around the house quietly and she knew it was late in the morning already. In all honesty, Narcissa was not particularly bothered about the festive day itself this year, she simply wanted one day in which there were no unwelcome visitors and she could spend a few hours free from the biting fear and anger that had been building up inside her steadily since the summer, a few hours together with her family and no interruptions.
Whether her family was going to oblige her or not was a completely different matter. Once dressed, she stood on Lucius's side of the bed and stared at him pointedly.
"When you do decide to wake up, please shave. I know your world has been falling down around your ears for the past few months but you can still look presentable whilst it's happening."
Having succeeded in eliciting a snort of laughter from her husband, Narcissa left the room and padded through the house. Even at the height of the day, it was still forebodingly dark within the ancient walls. She had never before been at all fazed by this, but now she found herself jumping at shadows with increasing regularity. She was just contemplating a particularly interesting corner and reassuring herself that there was nothing hidden therein when the door knocker sounded unexpectedly and she had to stop herself shrieking in alarm at the sudden noise. Once composed, she made her way down the stairs, her shock giving way to slowly building ire. She had barely had time to get started and the uninvited guests whom she wanted nothing more than to avoid were on the doorstep. She wondered who could be calling at such a time on such a day, and the more she contemplated, the more nervous she became, so she finally came to the conclusion that simply opening the door would be better for all parties involved.
Narcissa opened the door a tiny fraction and peered around it, coming face to face with a familiar mischievous smile and a mass of bright red curly hair.
"Only us," said Carmen Macnair. "Merry Christmas."
Carmen's face disappeared from the gap and was replaced with a bottle of wine.
"Some consolation, I know, but it'll make up in part for all the stock that this one's managed to drink this year."
"Oi!" Walden's voice sounded offended. "I haven't drunk that much!"
Narcissa took the door fully and opened the bottle, allowing her guests in out of the cold weather. Whilst unexpected, they were certainly not unwelcome. Carmen was one of Narcissa's oldest friends, and she could generally be counted upon to put a bright spin on even the bleakest of days. But, as her flame-haired companion shed her cloak and pulled her damp, wind-swept ringlets out of her face, Narcissa had to concede that Carmen was showing her age just as much as the rest of them in these strenuous times.
"It's good to see you still in one piece, Cissy," said Carmen presently, reaffixing her smile in place and pulling Narcissa into a warm hug. "Can the same be said of the rest of your household?"
"Hmm." Narcissa nodded slowly, breaking away and leading them through the house. "Draco is still shaken from everything that's happened this year, but he's well. When I last saw Lucius, he was determined to ignore Christmas for as long as physically possible. Somehow though, I think that it will find him despite his pathetic attempts at hiding from it under the pillow."
Narcissa opened the door to the sitting room at this point and Draco came over to greet the newcomers.
"Merry Christmas."
Carmen looked around the room, opened her mouth to say something and then thought better of it with a slight shake of her head, focussing her attention on returning Draco's well-wishes. Narcissa knew that she was about to pass comment on the lack of tree, and of festive adornments in general. Christmas was always important to Carmen and Walden, perhaps more important than any other time of the year, and Narcissa put this down to the fact that they had been married on Christmas Eve. Not celebrating the festive season simply did not compute in Carmen's mind, no matter how dire the circumstances. She slipped out of the room, leaving Draco to play host, and headed up the next flight of stairs to try and elicit some sort of coherent response from her husband. As expected, he had not moved from where she had left him.
Narcissa waved her wand and the covers flew off the bed. Lucius responded by throwing a pillow at her, falling a few feet short.
"I could make some exceedingly terrible jokes about your aim, but I won't. We have guests, Lucius, and I think they'd appreciate your presence. In spite of everything and your personal beliefs notwithstanding, you are still the master of this house."
"Are the guests ones that are likely to kill me?"
"They might do if you don't get your act together and come down to wish them a happy silver wedding anniversary for yesterday. It's Carmen and your partner in cellar-raiding crime. I am not moving until you get up, you know. There is to be no Christmas sulking on my watch. Well, that and the fact Carmen might come and do something to get you out of bed." Narcissa paused for a moment. "On second thoughts, I might let her. It would certainly make things interesting."
"Alright, alright, I'm getting up."
Narcissa gave a satisfied smile and returned to her guests.
"Success?" asked Carmen. Narcissa nodded and her friend raised an eyebrow but made no comment. She waved her wand and a heavy, red leather-bound book appeared on her lap. As she turned the first page, Narcissa recognised the first photo. It was Carmen's wedding dress, snow-white with a fur collar and a sash made from the entwined tartans of her family and Walden's. No doubt her friend had had an attack of nostalgia the previous day.
"The real reason I wanted to come…"
"Note the use of the singular," interrupted Walden. "I would have been perfectly content to stay in bed."
"… was that I found the most brilliant picture when we were looking through the album yesterday," Carmen carried on regardless. "You and Lucius are doing your very best to play cool and coy and at the same time trying desperately to stop under the mistletoe."
At this declaration, Draco made his excuses and left the room. Carmen merely shrugged as she flicked through the heavy pages until she found what she was looking for. Narcissa found herself flung twenty-five years back into the past, to a time before everything started to go rapidly downhill, to a time before the Dark Lord when she and Lucius were still at school and taking the first heady steps of courtship.
"… And, whilst ostensibly this is a picture of the bride's parents looking both sad that their only child is flying the nest and happy that they don't have to put up with her constant chatter all the time," began Walden, "you can also see, in the background, the groom on the verge of smacking his drunken uncle one for suggesting an insalubrious reason as to why his nephew married so young, and, in the opposite corner, Lucius looking livid because the bride's grandfather is dancing with Narcissa."
"The dancing itself wasn't a problem; it was where he was putting his hands during it." Lucius had come into the room unnoticed by any of the gathered party and was viewing the photos over Walden's shoulder with an air of embarrassment. Before anyone could make a comment, there came another knock at the front door. Narcissa physically jumped out of her seat at the noise but managed to cover it by leaving the room to open the door. She was not quite so nervous this time, but the gnawing wondering of who could be coming, and more importantly why, did not leave her fully.
She was rather surprised to see Finn and Mareike standing on the doorstep.
"Deck the halls with… Oh let us in, it's flipping freezing out here," said Finn, his teeth chattering in the cold mist.
"I know you're probably sick of uninvited guests turning up unannounced at all hours, but I bring a little compensation." Mareike tapped the basket that was hovering alongside her with her wand and it flew jerkily into the house in front of them.
"For you," she said, catching it before it could go too far and presenting it to Narcissa. "Traditional Christmas…" she struggled for the English word "…stuff. But no cake. Finn ate it all."
"I…" Finn began, but he decided that it was probably best not to argue. As wondrously in love as Finn and Mareike always seemed to be, Narcissa was never left in any doubt as to who wore the trousers in the relationship. She opened the basket, inhaling the heady scent of spice and a typical European Christmas.
"My word Mareike, how much did you make?" she exclaimed. The younger woman shrugged.
"Takes my mind off things," she said.
Narcissa needed no further explanation. Any distraction in these bleak times, with death, disaster and destruction so close to home, was welcome.
"We've been doing the rounds," said Finn, "dispensing what little Christmas cheer we can. Because, well, it's Christmas, isn't it?"
Narcissa raised an eyebrow.
"How successful have you been?"
"Not very. There was no answer in Scotland and Cornwall told us to come back at a decent hour in the morning. We don't know where anyone else lives."
"I think they were still suffering under the after-effects of a Polish-style Christmas Eve," said Mareike, a smile playing over her lips no doubt in remembrance of the short shrift they had received at the home of Finn's colleague. "We continental Europeans always seem to set more importance on the twenty-fourth than the twenty-fifth." She paused. "Finn, why do half your comrades come from halfway across the globe?"
Finn didn't get the chance to reply, for they had reached the sitting room by this point, and as Narcissa opened the door, the new arrivals found themselves bowled over by Carmen, exclaiming at Mareike's expanded bump and wishing them Christmas spirits. Narcissa privately wondered if the red-head had been on the Christmas spirits herself.
"Well, that explains why we didn't get a reply in Scotland," said Finn weakly before a giggling Mareike pulled him over to where the others were gathered. Once they were all safely seated and comfortable, the collective attention returned to the book open on Carmen's lap and the pictures that were moving on a constant loop therein.
"Walden," began Finn, his voice sounding utterly confused as he looked at the photos, "why are you wearing a skirt?"
The room fell into a deathly silence. Carmen gave Narcissa a look that showed she was trying extremely hard not to laugh, and Narcissa knew that she was wearing the same expression herself. Walden's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.
"That is not a skirt," he growled. "That is my kilt. My tartan. The cloth of my clan that I wear with pride!"
Finn looked more than a little bit scared, and this expression of mute terror proved too much for Carmen and Narcissa, who gave in to the threatening laughter.
"Dear me Finn, I know you were born here and you've been back for nearly two years now but you've still got a lot to learn about the whims of British wizards," said Carmen once she had finally regained the ability to speak coherently. "But to slowly turn us back to seriousness, there's the most wonderful picture of Cam and Evan in here…"
The dangerous situation diffused, they continued to discuss the time that had passed between the photos being taken and the present, Carmen's wine and Mareike's lebkuchen slowly decreasing as the hours wore on. It had all been so much simpler then. What had gone wrong?
"Twenty-five years," said Finn eventually. "I hope we get that far. I mean, that's longer than I've been alive."
"Finn, that makes me feel extremely old," groaned Walden.
"Come now, you're only as old as you feel," said Carmen.
"In that case I must be about four hundred," muttered Lucius. Narcissa rolled her eyes, but she then caught Mareike's grimace as the baby kicked, and she was suddenly lost in memories of her own experiences of pregnancy. She had been fairly certain at some points that Draco had actually been in training for the ballet before he was born. The expectant mother whispered something to her husband in her native tongue and he nodded.
"I think we should be going," said Finn. "Mari needs a lie down."
"She's so heavy," said Mareike with a sigh, placing a hand on her stomach.
"He," corrected Finn.
"It's a girl," said Mareike in a knowing tone "Believe me, I know these things."
Finn shook his head in obvious disbelief but gave in with good grace, offering his arm to help his wife off the low sofa. Lucius showed them out, leaving Narcissa, Carmen and Walden alone in the rapidly darkening sitting room.
"I'm glad I never had children," said Carmen matter-of-factly. "I'd have expired from worry by now. I have enough trouble with my cats."
"Carmen, your cats are your children," said Narcissa. She had fond memories of the grey fluffball of a feline that had faithfully accompanied his mistress through her schooldays.
"You can say that again," said Walden. "I swear you treat them better than you do me." Carmen giggled. "It's no laughing matter!"
Lucius returned, shaking his head.
"I think the phrase 'expect the worst and hope for the best' was created for those two," he said gesturing towards the door to indicate friends just departed. "I have a horrible sense of foreboding every time I see them together."
"Oh, don't be so pessimistic," said Carmen, but her expression was at odds with her words. Narcissa knew what they meant. She had no fear that, should circumstances allow, Finn and Mareike would be together forever. They had such a depth of trust and love for each other that she knew they could be perfectly content if they were the only people left on the planet. But the trouble with such a deep and spiritual perfection was that it could be so easily marred by outside sources. There was so much evil pressing in on the fledgling family from all sides that their chances of coming out of this terrible war unscathed were virtually nil. All they could do was hope that providence took pity on them and sought to preserve their perserverence as a model for future generations.
"We should probably be making a move too," said Walden with a yawn. "It was very good to see you alive and well, and I am sure that the company makes up for the lack of tinsel."
"Of course," said Carmen. She looked down at the album in her hands with a sad smile and it vanished into the ether, back to her house in Scotland. "Nostalgia's a terrible thing, really. All we do is sigh and remember how good everything was back then. But still." She brightened purposefully. "Only three more years and we'll be doing this for you, trying to pick out people up to no good in the back of the photographs and saying 'well where did that quarter of a century go?'"
"Is everyone determined to make me feel old today?" moaned Walden as they filed out into the hallway and began their protracted farewells by the door. Carmen, loquacious as she always was, had begun to patter nervously, unwillingly to say goodbye. Narcissa knew that it was not her own fear that kept her from leaving, rather fear for what would happen to her hostess once scant company had dispersed and the family was left alone to the mercies of the one who controlled all their lives. Narcissa knew the feeling; she too did not want Carmen and Walden to leave them to fall back into the nervous melancholy that the last few months had been spent in; not when they had just experienced a few hours of happy and welcome distraction.
Their farewells were interrupted by a knock at the door.
"Piccadilly Circus," remarked Walden as Lucius went to open it. "What's the betting it's Finn and Mareike; they've forgotten something important?"
It was not Finn and Mareike, but one of the few people whom Narcissa held absolutely no desire to see on this supposedly celebratory day. Her sister stood in the doorway, her expression politely amused and disarmingly mild.
"A Christmas party?" she asked sweetly.
Walden's eyes narrowed, and Carmen's flickered between each of the family members in turn before alighting on Narcissa's. She shook her head in response to the unspoken question, although it was with a heavy heart that she did so. She could not ask her friends to fight her battles for her. There was no use in risking any more collateral damage than was necessary.
"We were just leaving," said Walden coolly. "Merry Christmas, Bellatrix."
The sentence was challenging but Bellatrix either did not pick up on the connotations or chose to ignore them. The departing guests passed her in the doorway and made their way towards the gates, but Carmen gave a worried look back over her shoulder.
"Well Cissy, aren't you going to invite your sister in on this cold and frosty Christmas Day? T'is the season, after all."
Narcissa motioned for Bellatrix to come in with a dismissive flick of her head and slammed the door shut behind her, stepping back to Lucius's side and feeling his arm come around her waist in a gesture of mutual reassurance.
"What do you want?" she asked.
"Is that it?" said Bellatrix, affecting hurt. "No 'Merry Christmas'? No 'season's greetings'?"
"Bellatrix, I have known you too long to believe that you've come for purely benevolent reasons," snarled Narcissa. "Where's Rodolphus?"
"Oh, he's around somewhere, I'm sure he'll be along later," said Bellatrix airily. "Well, since you seem determined to get down to business… Could I borrow Lucius for a minute?"
The hand round Narcissa's waist increased its grip momentarily and then let go as Lucius indicated the empty drawing room and Bellatrix swept into it.
Narcissa wanted to beg him not to go, but she knew that at this moment, acquiescence was probably going to be less dangerous than defiance. Her mind flashed back to a conversation that she had overheard, a single sentence when all said and done, but the participants were all too clear to hear.
"These are desperate times, Mrs Lestrange," the Dark Lord had said, his tone whispering and dangerously pleasant, "and desperate measures are called for."
Narcissa had no doubt that the 'desperate measures' to which he had alluded were the reason for Bellatrix's sudden desire for private interface with her brother-in-law. As the door swung closed behind them, leaving Narcissa alone in the hall, she found herself recanting the firm statement that she had made on waking. Perhaps this was going to be their worst Christmas after all.
Note3: My second Christmas in sixth months. Argh! Well, at least I didn't run around the flat yelling 'Weihnachten will mich töten!' like I did in December… Onwards!