"Narcissa, darling, how wonderful to see you again!" The moment she opened the door, Narcissa found herself folded into her mothers arms. "Come in side, everyone is in the parlour…"
"'Everyone'?" She echoed curiously, smiling as she walked into the familiar foyer.
"Yes, dear, the Lestranges are visiting. Although I suspect Bellatrix and Rodolphus have wandered off by now…"
"Is Rebastan here?"
"He is, and come to think of it, it might be better of you two went to track down your siblings." She opened the door to their formal sitting room, and Rodolphus and Bella had indeed vanished. Rebastan looked exceptionally bored, but stood and gave a sad sort of smile to Narcissa as she entered. Despite all propriety, she flew across the room and into her friend's arms.
"I've missed you, 'Bastan," She mumbled into his shoulder. He patted her back uncomfortably.
"Yeah, me too Cissy. I, erm…" He glanced around uncertainly.
"Won't you two go fetch Bellatrix and Rodolphus?" Druella asked gracefully. They quickly agreed, and went out into the corridor.
"How are you, Narcissa?" He asked as soon as the door was closed behind them. She took his arm and they began to wander aimlessly through the large manor.
"I'm…" She shook her head, horrified to find that tears were choking her. "I've been better. I really have."
"Are… Are you hurt?"
So much, she wanted to reply, but knew that Rebastan wasn't referring to her emotional well being. "No. Lucius hasn't… He's not like that. And how is…" She knew that if she said his name, she'd lose her composure entirely.
"Rodtimer isn't well, Narcissa; I won't lie to you. He's still not moved out of his parent's house yet, which may be a good thing, because he's hardly in any state to take care of himself. I visit him sometimes, and Narcissa, he… he's not himself anymore. I don't know what else to say. He doesn't want to eat, or go out… or live, Narcissa. He needs you-"
"Stop!" She half yelled, half sobbed. "You think I don't need him too? I don't know if I can survive another day in that house!"
"You said Malfoy didn't-"
"Oh, he'd never hit me, I don't think, but spending even the little time I do with him is a nightmare; he cold and emotionless and just… awful! And his mother and sisters have made it their personal life goal to make me as miserable as humanly possible, and it's just so lonely and… and… I miss him!" She was crying in earnest by the time she finished, and buried her face in her friend's shoulder once more. "Sometimes I wake up and can't even see the point in getting up for the day… and the nights where I would happily fall asleep and never wake up."
He held her silently for several moments, before replying quietly, "I don't know what to say. I've got connections at the Ministry… remember Augustus Rookwood? He said it was easy to get into marriage files, and for a few extra galleons, he found your marriage contract. I- I read through it for Rodtimer, I hope you don't mind… It essentially said you were Malfoy's possession; did you know that? He can grant you a divorce, but you can't file one for yourself under any circumstances. And in the case of a divorce, Malfoy would get anything he wanted: full custody of any children you two might have, any of your inheritance, anything that was yours before the marriage; if he wanted to divorce you, he could throw you into the streets with nothing but the clothes on your back- not even that. There's no loophole, none, and trust me, I spent hours, days looking. I'm sorry, Narcissa."
He held her for several more long minutes, before gently breaking away. "But I'm sure it isn't all bad. I've seen the Malfoy Manor before (bloody huge) - and I know how much you love shopping. Maybe you can go drain his vault at Gringotts as revenge, eh?"
He joke did nothing towards improving her disposition. In fact, fresh tears were welling in her eyes, but she asked in a would-be casual voice, "So how is everything in your life, Rebastan? Clearly you're busy in the Ministry."
"I miss my best friends. I don't see Rodolphus much; he's usually over here with Bellatrix, or… otherwise engaged. I'm looking for a flat in London- can you believe it? I'm looking for a flat! No luck though, not yet."
"Well, that's wonde-"
"Cissy! Cissy, you're home!" There was a flash of crimson and black and a sudden overwhelming scent of sharp perfume; Bellatrix flung her arms around her younger sister. "Tell me you've not been here too long; I was just showing Roddy about-"
"Surely he's got the place memorized by now?"
"Bugger off, Rebastan. Hello, Narcissa. How've you been?" He flashed her a quick grin, but Narcissa could tell he didn't truly care; his eyes didn't leave Bella for a moment.
"Fine, thank you. Rebastan, perhaps we should go back now that we've found them?"
"Yes, good idea." Narcissa replied awkwardly. She and Rebastan turned to walk side by side back the way they came, and the engaged couple fell in step behind them. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Rodolphus wrap an arm around Bella's waist and lean over to kiss her temple in an uncharacteristically affection gesture, and Narcissa couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy as she turned away.
"Oh, there you all are. Come, children, it's time for supper."
"Hello, Mrs. Yaxley. I apologize for calling so late… Is Rodtimer here?"
The older woman sighed. "Of course he is, Rebastan. Up in his room, as per usual. You may go up."
With a brief nod, Rebastan moved past her and mounted the familiar path to his friend's bedroom.
"Rodtimer?" He knocked once to announce his arrival, and pushed the door open. It was nearly black within, and Rebastan immediately reached out to switch on the lights. The room was flooded with brightness, and while his eyes adjusted, Rebastan heard a hiss of pain from somewhere nearby.
"Turn it bloody off!"
"No, Rodtimer, I won't. I saw Narcissa today."
"What?" His head shot up, his dark, tortured blue eyes hungry for information. "Where? Is she all right? Did you talk to her? What did she say?" He sprang to his feet.
"She's at her parent's house for the holidays. She's… She's alright, I suppose, but certainly not fantastic. She's miserable with Malfoy and his family, but he's never physically hurt her. She misses you."
"Can I go see her?"
"I'm not entirely sure the Blacks would take that well… They were the ones who arranged the marriage, after all."
"Rebastan, I want…"
"I know." He sighed heavily. "I know."
Narcissa's spirits soared in the weeks that followed. She rejoiced in having the constant scrutiny gone, she loved sleeping alone and late into the morning, reveling in attention of her parents and the company of her sister. It was just like the Christmases of her childhood, and she enjoyed herself immensely. No one made any uncomfortable mentions of her husband or married life, and she very nearly succeeded in convincing herself that she was, in fact, an unwed virgin, still free to do whatever she liked.
It was, of course, Bellatrix who shattered this illusion, by bursting into Narcissa's bedroom around two in the morning, and demanding,
"When did you get here, Narcissa?"
"I… wha?" She mumbled sleepily.
"Here. For the holidays. When?"
"Erm… December second. Why?"
"Do you know what today is?" She didn't wait for a reply. "February twelfth. You've been here two and a half months- Have you had any contact with your husband since you left?"
"No. Why does that matter?"
"When were you planning on going back to Wiltshire?"
"I…" She buried her head in her pillow. "I wasn't."
"Well, I'm afraid you must, Cissy, and likely soon. It doesn't look well that the newly wed Mrs. Malfoy is hiding out with Mummy and Daddy."
Narcissa lifted her head, frowning suddenly at her sister.
"Bella… Where have you been?" There was an odd scent of smoke and alcohol hanging in the air around her. She seemed to be wearing odd black robes as well.
"Go back to bed, Cissy. We'll talk in the morning." She quickly retreated from the room, and Narcissa had drifted off in seconds. However, when she awoke the next morning and headed down to breakfast, Bellatrix was already up, sipping coffee and reading the Prophet, and eager to continue their conversation.
"Why don't you want to go back, Cissy? I'd have though you'd be glad to get away."
"I love it here. And… Not there."
"I know Lucius. He can't be so bad to you. He knows what's going on, that's for certain, and he makes good decisions. I'm sure he treats you well enough."
"It isn't that he treats me badly, just so… Indifferently. And I don't want to even be married to him. Mort-"
"Good morning, girls! How are you two?" Druella glided into the room and smiled at her daughters.
"Quite well, mother. I was just talking to Cissy about how she intends to return to the Malfoy Manor today."
"Do you, Narcissa? Well, it's been lovely having you here, but I agree, you should be going soon. Do give Aethel my regards."
Narcissa scowled at her sister, but had no choice to return to her room after breakfast and begin packing. It took a fair deal of time to reassemble all the items that had returned to their homes in the room she'd lived in since her birth, but far too soon, she stood with her trunks and no more excuses for delay.
She bid her parents farewell and a promise to visit again as soon as possible, but had nothing to say to her sister. Shouldn't Bellatrix, if no one else, understand how she dreaded returning? And yet, she'd practically pushed her away! She stepped into the floo.
"Malfoy Manor!"
She'd always hated the uncleanliness of traveling in such a manner, but it was the most convenient, and the grates of all homes of pureblooded nobility were kept nicely swept. However, it dawned on her moment after she stumbled out of the fireplace at her destination that the manor had any number of hearths, and the room she had arrived in was entirely unfamiliar. Though sumptuous, there was an air of practicality about, with high mahogany bookshelves lined heavily with dusty tomes, and a gargantuan writing desk, piled with parchment, quills and other more curious knickknacks: a sneakascope, a revealer, a massive book with pages that appeared to be turning themselves, and a remembrall. Beside the desk sat, upon a stand, the largest astronomical model Narcissa had ever seen, the sun in the center blazing brightly, and each tiny planet rotating and revolving accordingly. In a glass case nearer to her, an antique Axminster was proudly exhibited. Directly to her other side, another glass case held a broomstick. The display sported a golden plaque that read "Moontrimmer, 1901, Gladys Boothby. Original". In a square, uncarpeted corner of the room, a handsome cauldron of what appeared to be solid gold sat alongside one clearly made of polished Fire-crab shell, flanked by cabinets that Narcissa assumed to be filled with potion ingredients. Stepping forward, her eyes fell upon a beautifully crafted chess set of onyx and opal. The intricate figures were shifting impatiently, evidently bored from disuse. A sudden chiming caused Narcissa to jump, but it was only a clock, a stately grandfather one, with four golden hands denoting the time to a tenth of a second. Her gaze wandered once more to the bookshelves, where on one, a misty crystal ball acted as a bookend. She began to read several titles: Moste Potente Potions, Sonnets of a Sorcerer, The Monster Books of Monsters (Which quivered ominously, despite being pressed quite tightly between An Anthology of Eighteenth Century Charms andBlood Brothers: My Life Amongst the VampiresDeath Omens: What To Do When You Know The Worst Is Coming, Fifteenth Century Fiends, A Guide to Medieval Sorcery, Magick Most Evile and Hélas, Je me suis Transfiguré mes Pieds. This last title snared her interest, and she reached to pluck it from its home.
"The only comedy you'll find in here, I'm afraid, though you may want to be careful whilst removing it from that particular shelf."
Narcissa gasped in alarm; she hadn't heard anyone enter. "I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
Abraxas smile gently, disarmingly, at her. "Here, let me help you." He reached above her and ran one finger down the spine of The Monster Book of Monsters. The tremors stilled, and he then handed her Hélas, Je me suis Transfiguré mes Pieds. "By Malecrit; have you read the translated version? Or are you fluent in French?"
"I-I know a bit. My family motto is French, and we have quite a number of relatives there."
"Well, it loses some of the humor in English, but if you don't understand it all, you'll miss out as well; it's a political satire, as many comedic plays are, discussing the incompetence of the Ministry. You may find some of the points are still relevant today."
"Erm, thank you, Mr. Malfoy."
"Abraxas," He corrected gently. "I trust your holidays were enjoyable?"
"Very."
"And you parents and sister are well? Bellatrix is getting married soon, is she not?"
"Yes, next month, the Rodolphus Lestrange."
Abraxas chuckled slightly at that. "Is he still so difficult? What an unruly child that one was. Aethel and Lorraine Lestrange were dear friends in their school days, and she used to tell me that Lorraine was positively driven mad by her eldest son's antics, climbing tapestries and breaking crystal dishes and such."
Despite herself, Narcissa grinned. "Oh, I'm sure he did. He's quite stubborn and can be rude, but I believe he and Bella are well suited."
"And why is that?"
"Oh, Bellatrix need to be married to someone just as fanatic as she is about everything; they'll have fun together, they'll exhaust each other, they'll never have children because Bella says she'd rather died than give birth, and Rodolphus is one of the few men who won't care. They'll make one another happy, but neither will be in control. Bella could never stand to be inferior to a husband."
She wondered suddenly if she'd said too much, but Abraxas simply nodded. "My eldest daughter is getting married in a month, to Thorfinn Rowle. I believe it will be a good match for her; Adina is quiet, and needs to be cared for, but she's much like her mother as well."
"I'm sure, as your father, you would know best…" Narcissa responded carefully.
"Terentia is more difficult, I've not chosen a husband for her yet, but I was thinking the young Rosier boy for Tricey-"
"Even Rosier!" Narcissa exclaimed, unable to hide her surprise. Abraxas frowned slightly.
"Yes… Do you know him?"
"I went to Hogwarts with him. He's so funny and outspoken and Beatrice…" She paused suddenly. What about Beatrice? She didn't know a thing about the girl! But to imagine the sullen little fifteen-year-old with lively, handsome, and charming Evan Rosier didn't seem right.
"Tricey is a unique child, but I'm confident she can adapt anywhere."
Narcissa thought of the hateful looks the girl saved specifically for her, but simply shrugged and curled her toes in the thick, crimson carpet.
"This… This is a lovely room. I've never seen it before." She said at last, glancing around at the fascinating distractions. Abraxas smiled warmly at the statement.
"It's my private study. I keep my broad accumulation of odds and ends in here, as well as my personal collections of books."
Narcissa's eyes widened. "You've read all of these?"
"Well, not quite all. Clearly not this one, for example," He lifted Sonnets of a Sorcerer. "As you can well see, I'm not speaking in limericks."
The large clock chimed again, and Abraxas glanced at it. "It's time for supper; shall we go? You must be famished after traveling across Britain by floo." He offered his arm in a playfully grand gesture; Narcissa accepted it with a small giggle, and they strode together to the dining room. When he opened the door for her, she found that the rest of the family was just taking their seats.
"Look who's back. And here I was beginning to hope that she might never come home."
"Terentia," Narcissa froze halfway to her seat. Abraxas was regarding his daughter sternly. "Narcissa was visiting her family. Surely after you're wed you will come back here to visit us?"
"Of course father-"
"Then why do you criticize Narcissa for doing the same?" It was a rhetorical question that merited no response, but Terentia sat agape. In fact, the entire Malfoy family seemed vaguely upset by the patriarch's offhanded defense of an outsider. Everyone except Lucius, who sat at his father's right hand and didn't have so much as a nod for his wife who'd been absent for nearly two and a half months; he kept his eyes firmly set on some spot directly ahead. Abraxas seemed unruffled as he sat at the head of his table; Narcissa took her place as the lowest ranking member. It hadn't taken her long learn that status with the clan was denoted by where each person sat: As the most powerful, Abraxas was at the head. His heir held the second highest position at his immediate right, and Mrs. Malfoy was next, sitting at her husband's left. Beside Lucius was Adina, the eldest sister, and across from her was the middle daughter, Terentia. Before Lucius's marriage, Beatrice, as the youngest, had been at the lowest position; third from the right. But now Narcissa sat across from her, on the left, and any proper pureblood who saw the set up would immediately see that Narcissa held little standing within the high profile family.
As Narcissa crawled into bed that evening, two soft knocks on the door caused her to glance up in dismay; Lucius entered a moment later. She scowled at him as he approached, but he didn't seem to be looking at her. He didn't immediately move into bed bedside her, but instead settled upon a nearby settee.
"Did you enjoy your holidays?" He queried mildly.
"Yes. I loved seeing my family and friends again, and just being home, sleeping in my own bed… Alone…" She added under her breath.
He nodded briefly, apparently seeing this as a satisfactory exchange between a husband and wife separated for over two months. However, as he stood up and began to unbutton his shirt, Narcissa drew a quick breath.
"Lucius, I've been gone for an awfully long time, and I'm quite tired, and might I just have one night to get used to being back here?"
He paused for a moment, expression unreadable as usual, before nodding once more. Without another words, he left the room. Narcissa sighed in delight, though it was only a temporary happiness. Until she became pregnant, she wouldn't be left alone. Of course Lucius hadn't objected to their separation for this night; it was evidently as much of a duty to him as it was an uncomfortable embarrassment to her.
With a flick of her wand, the room went dark.