"Acute pneumonia? It has to be worse than pneumonia."
"Pneumonia is nothing to tweak your nose at, Mr. Yaxley, and it's contagious, so you best hope you've not gotten it as well! Mr. Malfoy should be back in several day's time; I sent him along potions and-"
"We have a Quidditch game tonight, Madam Pomfrey! No offense meant to pneumonia, but it would take a malignant brain tumor on top of Dragon Pox to keep Lucius Malfoy at home in bed!"
"There are thing more important than Quidditch, Mr. Yaxley, and a person's health is one of them. You can write to your friend if you'd like-"
"He's not my friend! I wouldn't care if he dropped dead- just not before our game against Gryffindor! We've been training so bloody hard for this!"
"It must have been serious for him not to return from the Christmas Holidays, and Lucius Malfoy is an exemplary student! If you're implying that he's skipping school on a whim…"
Rodtimer didn't reply. He stormed from the Hospital Wing towards the Slytherin common room, thinking darkly to himself. He'd be damned if Lucius Malfoy had ever been sick a day in his life and let it stop him doing what needed to be done. He distinctly recalled an instance two years prior when Malfoy had broken every bone in his right hand during a last minute Quidditch practice, and showed up fifteen minutes later for his Transfiguration O.W.L. with not only an unhealed hand, but having taken nothing for the pain- he claimed any potion would make it difficult to focus. Rodtimer didn't know what would do it, but something far more severe than a shortage of breath and coughing up a bit of blood was keeping Malfoy from the school.
But there is a silver lining to missing our captain, Rodtimer told himself several hours later as the six-membered Slytherin Quidditch team huddled together before the game. It was finally a chance to prove that they didn't really need Malfoy- he himself would make an excellent captain, and Lucius would return to find himself quite unmissed. Rodtimer allowed himself several moments of fantasizing about Malfoy coming back to find that Slytherin had won so spectacularly that Rodtimer had made permanent captain- and his first action as new captain would be to find a new chaser. Or maybe Malfoy wouldn't return at all, and then Rodtimer would be captain, Head Boy and top of all his classes…
"Yaxley, you alive?" Carlisle Wilkes asked uncertainly, bringing Rodtimer back to reality. The game. He had to focus on the game first.
"Right." He began in his most authoritative tone. "Now, I know we're a chaser short, and a captain short, but I think we can manage. If all goes well this should be an easy match, and the conditions are perfect, minus the cold. Just remember the plan, and stick to it. Alright?" There were grumbles of disagreement, but Rodtimer was undeterred. "We can win!"
They lost, of course.
Not by terribly much, but too many times a chaser would pass the Quaffle in Malfoy's direction only to find empty air or a Gryffindor team member, or a beater would clear the way for Malfoy to make a spectacular goal, only to have a less-gifted teammate get in the way, or the keeper would prevent a goal, throw the ball wide, to where Malfoy was meant to be hovering- Rodtimer was disgusted by the whole match.
His fury wasn't entirely respected by the entire house and this made him even more disgruntled for a reason his couldn't quite put his finger on.
"Really, love, you can't expect the entire house to drop what they're doing to appease you," Narcissa purred in his ear later as he sat sulking in a darkened corner. "However, as your happiness is paramount to me personally, I will be glad to do whatever it takes to bring your charming smile out."
Rodtimer gave a grudging smirk, and raised one eyebrow suggestively.
"Anything, my dear?"
"Well," she corrected with a smile of her own. "Not anything. Not until we're married, anyway. Don't you think you can wait just a year or two?"
"Let's go get married now, Narcissa, and then I will be of excellent bearing for the rest of my life. Starting tonight."
"I'm still not even legal, Mort," she reminded him. "Sixteen, remember?"
Rodtimer grinned wickedly. "That's right," he murmured against her neck, tugging her onto his lap. "You're my forbidden pleasure. Let's us break some rules Narcissa, hmm?"
"I don't think…" she whispered back, kissing his temple and raking slim fingers through his thick black hair, "That we ought to be…" Her voice trailed off again as he dipped his head and nudged away the fabric at her collar bone to allow his searching lips better access. "Doing this right now…"
"And especially not right here!" Their embrace was broken by whack to each of their heads with a potions book. "Honestly," Rabastan continued to grumble. "We're not all as excited for your wedding night as you are. And besides," He settled himself across from his friends. "I have news."
"News?" Rodtimer echoed, unimpressed. "Fascinating." He turned his focus back to the young woman in his lap, drawing her leg over his hip so that she was straddling him.
"Come on, you two! It's important news! There's been an initiation!" He was brandishing the Daily Prophet in their direction, but it was ignored. "Oh, really, that's not necessary… Rodtimer- don't do that! That's- there's a reason bedroom doors lock! Narcissa, I'd feel much better if I could see your hands! And, Merlin; Rodtimer, no one else wants to see Narcissa's knickers-"
"I disagree."
"Shut up and go away Rosier! Stop encouraging them!"
"I can't see Narcissa's knickers from here. Have you got a better angle? Move over..."
"Go away, Evan!"
Narcissa rolled away when neither could take the strain of not laughing any longer, and they both were in hysterics for several moments, encouraged by Rabastan's outraged expression.
"Are you done eating each other's faces yet? This is important."
"Oh, I'm sure it is," Rodtimer chuckled, swiping a tear of mirth from the corner of his eye.
"As I was saying before you two started playing tonsil hockey, there's been an initiation," he announced dramatically.
This evoked no response besides blank stares. Narcissa took pity at last.
"What kind of initiation, Rabastan?"
"Well, I'm glad you asked, Narcissa. You see, today, a certain announcement was made by a reliable source that…" Again, he paused for effect. "The Dark lord has let it be known that he has any number of Dark creatures under his command- Giants, vampires, dragons, banshees, chimaeras, manticores, and Dementors, even."
He finally had their desired attentions. "But that's not even the all of it- it's the wizards and witches. Apparently he's initiating the ones he wants now- and using the Imperius curse on those who those who hold value but refuse."
"So I figured that means this war is really happening?"
"Without a doubt."
"And soon?"
"Very."
"You lost."
The iciness of Lucius Malfoy's voice was enough to chill each of his teammates to the bone.
"It was close, Malfoy," Rodtimer muttered. "We're still ahead; if we beat Hufflepuff by a hundred points next match-"
"I did not ask for an explanation, Yaxley, I was merely stating a fact. I'm disappointed in all of you, to say the very least."
"You should have been there then!"
"I did not choose when I contracted influenza-"
"Wait, I thought it was pneumonia!"
"It was pneumonia. That's what I said. But I had hoped that all of you were past needing constant supervision. I'm adding an extra hour each day to the practice schedule, and anyone who objects to that will please turn their robes in now so I can find and train new players before our next match. Expect to be on the field until ten tomorrow night." He gave them all an abrupt nod as a signal of dismissal. They filed out, holding their tongues until safely out of earshot before shouts of 'bloody insane!' could be issued. Yaxley didn't lead this group as usual, however; he lagged behind and once the others were safely inside the castle, ducked back into the changing room.
"You know, Malfoy, I don't-" he stopped. Lucius was reading something intently, an owl perched nearby. He looked up when Rodtimer entered, and said perhaps the most surprising thing he'd ever heard from his lips.
"I'm sorry, Yaxley."
Rodtimer couldn't tell if the words were sincere or not, but didn't have a chance to find out as Lucius brushed past him and strode quickly up to the castle.
Surely Lucius Malfoy hadn't just apologized? It simply wasn't done! Rodtimer was fairly certain those two words had never crossed the blonde's lips. Mort doubted that he was apologizing for his abrupt departure, nor his intense Quidditch schedule. So what could it have been?
Narcissa head the soft footsteps behind her, and lifted her head with a grin. Mort always thought he was brilliant at sneaking up on her, and granted, he was being quieter than usual, but she couldn't be fooled when the footsteps stopped at her back. He didn't move or make a sound- probably waiting to scare her, she guessed with a suppressed giggle.
"I know you're there!" she exclaimed at last, after almost a minute of silence. Without turning around, she reached back to him- she happened to know that Rodtimer was very ticklish around his midsection. But the hard, muscled abdomen her fingers collided with was notably not Rodtimer's- She spun with a gasp to see the stony eyes of Lucius Malfoy staring at her.
"Oh! I'm so, so sorry! I didn't realize, I thought you were Mort… Please excuse me!" Narcissa could tell her cheeks had flushed to an unappealing crimson. "I- erm, can I help you with something?"
He didn't answer. His was a truly terrifying presence, in Narcissa's opinion, and the way his cold grey eyes were searching hers with a questioning intensity didn't help. She blinked nervously and bit her lip.
"Never mind," he murmured at last, and left in the near-silence with which he'd approached. Narcissa shuddered slightly.
"Narcissa?" She glanced up with a relieved grin to see Rodtimer entering the library. "What were you and Malfoy talking about?"
"We weren't." Narcissa hopped up and slid easily into his arms, rubbing her cheek against the familiar-smelling fabric of his shirt. "I think we should go for a walk by the Lake."
"Sounds like a brilliant idea, my dearest," he replied, before scooping her up dramatically.
"Mort!" she shrieked laughingly, drawing alarmed stares from the hushed students surrounding them. "Put me down!" she continued, quieter. Rodtimer grinned, and shook his head.
"Not until I'm good and ready," he promised, and began carrying her through the school, ignoring the baffled glances their procession received.
"I said walk, Mort. This doesn't classify as walking."
"For you, at least."
With a defeated but happy sigh, she wound her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. Rodtimer didn't put her down until they were well across the grounds, by the lake shore.
"You know my dear," His breath tickled her ear as he leant close to her, stretching out beside her. "We are going to have the most beautiful children."
Narcissa rested her head on his offered arm, and snuggled in close. "Oh really? What will they be like?"
"We're going to have three," he began without hesitation. "A boy first, who will have your eyes, my nose and hair, your fair skin and chin, and my facial structure." At this, Narcissa reached up to fondly stroke his perfectly chiseled cheekbones. "Eighteen months later, we're going to have a second son. He's going to be blonde, but as tan as I am. He'll have my eyes, and be quite the lady-killer. Did I mention our firstborn is going to be studious and politically correct? Oh yes. But number two is going to be lazy and fun and most popular in his class. Drive his big brother crazy."
"And the last one?"
"Will be our favorite. She's going to be born five years after her brother, and she's going to be her daddy's little girl. But she'll be the most beautiful, because she's going to look just like her mother."
Rodtimer rolled over onto his back, and Narcissa followed, resting her head on his chest. She was content for a while to listen to the steady rhythm of his heart, watching the sun set.
"I love you, Mort."
"Hey." He gently hooked a finger beneath her chin, pulling her lips momentarily to his. "I love you too. More than you can possibly know."
"Forever?"
"And ever."