Narcissa woke when Lucius did the next morning at six, and waited impatiently while he showered and dressed. He emerged from the bathroom and she quickly shut her eyes as he finished preparing for the day.
"I'm going into London today," he annouced and Narcissa twitched.
"How did you know I was awake?" she demanded, scowling.
"Practice not clenching your eyes and try not lying like a board. Holding your breath doesn't help either."
"Fine. When will you be back?"
"Supper time, probably." He glanced at his watch. "I still have a while yet- I'll feed Draco and you can go back to pretending to sleep."
She glared at him, but when he looked up at her, despite the serious set of his expression, his eyes had that humorous spark. He's teasing me, she realized in surprise. "Alright then," she replied. "Have, erm, a lovely day." Goodness, but that felt awkward to say. Perhaps she would just stick to 'goodbye' from now on.
She waited until she heard the apparation that indicated his departure before springing up and rushing to the closet. With a deep breath, she yanked open the door-
A wail peirced the silence, and she leapt about a foot in the air, whipping her head around fighting panic before realizing that it was the neglected cry of her very spoiled son that had disturbed her. She rushed to his bedroom to find him pouting and whining, furious that he had not yet been paid attention to by both parents.
"Oh, darling," she sighed, scooping him up. "You scared Mummy. Not that Mummy was doing anything wrong- startled, I should say. You startled Mummy. Never mind that. What would you like to do today?"
It was eleven before Draco's tranlucent lavender eyelids began to droop, and she carried him quickly to his crib and hummed softly and absently until he fell asleep. Rapidly, Narcissa tiptoed back to her new bedroom, and returned to the open closet.
"Alright," she sighed, quickly locating the pensieve and placing it gently on her vanity. She was nervous, but also unspeakably excited. She was certain that she was about to unlock the secrets of her odd, distant husband. Leaning forwards, she felt herself tipping into the swirling past.
She was back inside the Malfoy Manor. Pattering footfalls alerted her to another, and she turned to spot a tiny, determined little boy toddling by with a huge parcel in his arms. When Narcissa recognized him as Lucius, she laughed out loud. His round, babyish face was pink with exertion, and his steps were quick and unsteady. The package he held was at least three times his small width, and blocked his view entirely. He stumbled down the corridor, bumping into end tables and disgruntling portraits. She grinned at his adorable antics, but the smile soon turned to an expression of horror- he was headed directly for a staircase, entirely unaware in his concentration. Forgetting where she was, she cried out a warning, but of course, he did not hear her- he missed the first step, and, with a heartwrenching cry of alarm, he pitched forward, tumbling down the uncarpeted stairs. At each painful, jarring crash, he gave a mournful little wail, collasping in a heap at the bottom and shuddering with sobs. Narcissa dashed after him, wishing to hold the poor baby, waiting with indignant impatience as she heard the slow, steady, clip of heels on the floor approaching. Aethel appeared, unfazed, and looked down at him coldly.
"Lucius,"
He lifted his head and raised his arms pathetically to his mother, lower lip trembling.
"You've been snooping for your birthday presents- I see you've found one, too. Stretch out your legs," she commanded, and he obeyed slowly, whimpering.
"Nothing's broken... But you've a nasty bruise on your head. Wiggy," A house elf appeared quickly. "Go get dittany and check for any other injuries. He's not badly hurt." She turned to leave. "You may open it if you'd like, Lucius. Was it worth it?"
"Mummy!" he wailed. He didn't want a salve for his pain- he wanted to held by his mother.
"Don't cry," she snapped. "You're a little man, and men don't cry. Ever. You must learn that."
"It hurts," he moaned, curling up tightly as fat tears rolled down his cheeks.
"You mustn't let it show."
Heavier footfalls sounded, signaling another's approach. "What seems to be the problem here?"
Abraxas's voice was warm. Easy. Unconcerned.
"Papa," Lucius turned, deperately seeking another venue of care.
"Had a little spill, have you son?" he asked, crouching down beside him. "Here," he took the little hands in his larger one and, despite Lucius's gasps of protest, hauled him to his feet. "There, alright then?"
Despairingly, he shook his head. Abraxas frowned. "Dry those tears. You hear me? You're fine. Don't cry."
The scene began to fade, but she knew instinctively, as much knowledge was garnered inside pensieves, that not much time had passed. But they were still at the Manor, outside now, on a stone patio that was set into a rather steep hill. One side of it flowed smoothly from the ground, and on the other, there was a sizeable drop, the only guard some beautiful potted plants. Aethel sat chatting with a lovely woman who Narcissa recognized after a moment as Bella's mother-in-law, Melvia Lestrange. They were laughing and sipping tea, and Lucius sat between them, looking intensly bored- a small scowl marred his childish face, and his lower lip protruded into a pout so endearing, Narcissa wasn't even sure that Draco would be able to replicate it with such effectivenss. But the women were ignoring him, gossiping about something or another- because Lucius could not remember the conversation, their words were fuzzy and indistinct. His chin rested on the table as he quietly sulked; clearly, he wished to be elsewhere. Suddenly, he jerked up, eyes wide- It took Narcissa a moment to see what had caught his attention. A vibrantly colored butterfly fluttered just overhead, and Lucius watched it with lively, curious eyes. He wanted that butterfly.
Carefully, he slid out of the chair; neither woman paid him any mind. Meanwhile, the bright insect was drifting lazily towards the opposite end of the patio. Lucius zeroed in on it, never taking his eyes off his goal. With a sick feeling in her gut, Narcissa realized what was going to happen, and bit her lip to keep from shouting another useless warning. Little Lucius plod determinedly after it as it flew nearer to the drop off, not checking his ground. As he approached the plants, Narcissa closed her eyes, but still jumped at the crash of the heavy pot being tipped over, and, undoubtedly, Lucius tumbling after it. Melvia gave a startled gasp and leapt up, but Narcissa got to the edge first. Lucius had fallen the two meters, and the thick clay urn had landed on he leg- a leg that Narcissa knew it took no healing expertise to see was broken. At first, he seemed too stunned to cry, but then his face crumpled, and he began to shake. He gasped for air, and looked ready to bawl... but somehow, did not. He pressed a tiny, dirty hand to his mouth and she saw him bite his palm to keep from screaming- watching his memory, she could almost feel the unbearable, sickly, stabbing pain of the broken bone. Aethel appeared at his side, having come down the steps, and frowned.
"Oh, my, yes, certainly broken... I must get him to St. Mungo's. Wiggy, go get the master. Lucius, you must keep very still."
Lucius's hands had balled into fists, his jaw was tight and his eyes were clenched shut. He held his breath, still doing everything in his power not to scream.
"Aethel, is everything alright? Aethel?"
"Down here, Abraxas. Lucius fell and needs to go to the hospital."
Narcissa realized that Melvia have vanished- Lucius could not remember where she had gone or what she had been doing, and so was eliminated from the memory.
There was a flash, and they stood in the foyer of St. Mungo's. A large tear seeped from beneath his eyelid, and Lucius rubbed it away quickly, checking guiltily to see if his father had noticed. The healing process was quick and indistinct; after Lucius was given a potion to ease the pain, the memory became dull and indistinct- it ended with Abraxas praising Lucius for his good behavior, and offering to buy him a new broom.
The next series of memories were repetitve and short. They all involved Mrs. Malfoy, Lucius, and his sisters greeting Abraxas after his workday. Abraxas would always kiss his wife first, sweep his two daughters up, toss them up in the air amid giggles, and hold them close, but Lucius- Lucius who watched with wide, excited eyes, awaiting his turn, would get nothing but a warm 'hello', and sometimes a playful handshake or hair ruffle. As these nearly identical scenes whirled by again and again, Narcissa realized at last what they meant.
It was well known that children, in order to develop properly, needed frequent attention and physical contact. Lucius, as a child, had been given every material posession imaginable by his parents, but from his birth, he'd been trained to be the Malfoy heir. He'd excel at what his parents wanted him to, such as school and business workings, and he would hold an esteemed position at the Ministry, but his own father wouldn't even hug him.
In the next memory, it was night time, and Lucius, several years older now, probably about five now, woke with a start as his bedroom door creaked open. Terentia stood in the doorway, clutching a stuffed unicorn. Her blonde hair was in braids, and she looked decidedly miserable.
"Lucius," she whined, clamoring into bed bedside him without permission. Not touching him, but still stealing his blankets. "I had the most dreadful dream. It was dark, and there were all these monsters creeping about, green and slimy with fangs! They would jump out and chase me and try to eat me! They hid in closets and drawers, waiting for unsuspecting children to prey on- oh Lucius, it was terrible! I can't tell Mummy, because she doesn't like being disturbed because she's got the new baby inside of her, but you'll protect me, right?"
Within moments, Terentia had drifted off. To an adult, the nightmare was ridiculous- to five year old Lucius, it was horrifying. He lay with his eyes wide open, breathing quick and uneven. His eyes darted at each imagined noise and he craned his neck, looking about to see if anything lurked in the blackness. However, he did not dare light a candle nor reawaken his sister- he took it as his duty to be the one frightened, and to bear it in silence, although Narcissa was sure he resented her for the intrusion.
When the scene changed, there was still darkness- but they stood in a hallway, now. Lucius was hovering guiltily outside a door which stood ajar. He glanced left, right, and left again before slipping into the room. Narcissa followed, recognizing the room as the nursery in which Draco currently napped. The same crib was there, an it was this that Lucius silently approached. He peeked over the edge with caution, and Narcissa did the same.
A tiny child, no doubt Beatrice, lay peacefully, wide gray eyes set on a nondistinct point somewhere above. However, when she spotted her brother, she grinned, and extended an arm. Tentatively, he reached out as well, and she curled her minute finger around his larger one, blinking happily up at him. Immediately, his nervousness fled, and he smiled as well. Narcissa saw that he had finally found another human being to love that seemed to already love him back.
A house elf appeared, and Lucius hopped down, but did not go far. The creature took Beatrice in one arm and a bottle in the other and began to feed the infant. Lucius frowned.
"Give her to me," he commanded, his voice surprisingly authoritative, even at such an early age.
"Master, I must be feeding-"
"I'll do it." He sat down on a winged chair far too large for him and held out his arms. "Give'er. And the bottle, too."
"Master, I-"
"Now!"
With a squeak, the elf obeyed, and scampered off. Smiling, Lucius carefully mimicked what he'd seen her caretaker do, and Tricey gurgeled with delight...
He was much older in the next memory, just before the start of his first term at Hogwarts. His eyes were dark and unhappy as his father lectured him.
"...be in Slytherin, of course; that's not what concerns me. You must make friends only with the proper sort- I won't have you gallavanting with mudbloods and the like. It's bad enough that they're accepted into the school. If you need anything, ask Horace Slughorn; he's an old friend, and he'll be your head of house. This is your first and easiest year- remember that. I want you to have top grades, Lucius. It simply won't do if those of lesser breeding outshine you in academics. Do not let anyone criticize you; you are superior. You are a Malfoy first and foremost- don't forget it. Now, I understand that you won't be able to play Quidditch until next year, but make sure to find out who the captain is and stay on good terms with him." He paused. "Anything else?"
"Who'll I sit with on the train? Adina's left and Terentia says she won't be seen with me," Lucius asked uncertainly.
"See if you can't find some other Slytherins. The oldest Lestrange should be there, and the Black too-"
"But they're older, they won't want to sit with me either!"
"Silence, Lucius. It would be better you sit by yourself than someone who ends up in Hufflepuff. Your trunk is packed? Good- off to the station then, your mother is waiting."
When Lucius stepped out of the study, Beatrice was waiting impatiently, bouncing from one foot to the other. "Oh, Lucius!" She flung her arms around him. "Don't leave me!"'
"Tricey," he hugged her back, brow creased. "You'll be fine. Promise. I'll see you at Christmas any how,"
"But that's so far off!" she cried. He patted her blonde hair in gentle reassurance.
"I'll write, I promise."
Beatrice bobbed her head tearfully but scampered off as Aethel approached with Terentia. "Ready to go?" Without waiting for a reply, she took his hand and apparated. They arrived at the Platform, and Narcissa smiled at the nostalgia that swamped her. Such happy memories of her own were here. Lucius took his trunk from the elf, and glanced up at his mother to see if she would offer him any affection of comfort- he was practically trembling with nerves. However, she merely nodded him in the direction of the train, bid him well, gave Terentia a peck on the cheek, and disapparated. Instantly, Terentia darted off, waving to a friend. Lucius glanced around nervously, heading uncertainly in the same direction. Narcissa watched him curiously as he searched for a compartment. He appeared composed and clam, but, through his memory, she could feel his stress. At last, he located an empty place to sit, stowed his trunk and closed the door. However, soon after he sat, it was flung back open.
"Hey mate,"
Narcissa heat leapt into her throat, because hanging in the door way was a bright-eyed, shaggy-haired eleven year old with a smile she would always keep in her heart.
Mort.
His dark blue eyes shone with excitement, and a pale, jittery Rabastan hovered behind him. They were so little!
"Can we sit with you, then? Not much room anywhere else." He waited expectantly.
Lucius wanted to say yes. Desperately, he wanted to say yes, and make friends, at least have company on the long ride, but... he didn't know these boys. His father had said it would be better to sit by himself; but perhaps these boys would end up in Slytherin too? And if not, he didn't have to talk to them again... But if Abraxas found out, he would certainly be angry...
Slowly, regretfully, he shook his head. Rodtimer seemed taken aback, and more than a little offended. "Well." He didn't seem to know what to say. "I guess- I guess we'll... just... sit somewhere else then."
He stalked off with Rabastan in tow, and Lucius slumped in disappointment.
Next, there was a series of images, a blur of memories. Lucius was sorted immediately into Slytherin, but when Mort was too, he gave Lucius a dirty look before sitting as far away as possible from him. Lucius's dormmates were impressed by his expensive belongings, and slightly in awe of his name, but none seemed taken by Lucius personally. Soon, his intellectual and magical ability set him apart as well, and within months, he was widely respected. Peers seemed to fear him, and even his elders never taunted or harassed him. But no one seemed to have much interest in befriending him.
By the end of his first year, he'd already begun to become the superior enigma that she would remember from her school days. However, the difference she saw now was that was not entirely what he wanted.
The next memory was on the Hogwarts Express once more, at the start of his second year. Lucius sat alone again, trunk tucked away and legs flung carelessly on to the opposite seat. Already, his youthful face was begining to harden, and the childish warmth and openness was all but erased. He did not look out the window to wave as many other students did, instead withdrawing a worn-looking book. He glanced up as the door slid open. With a start, Narcissa recognized herself. She hardly remembered being so tiny. Come to think of it, she didn't really remember her first train ride. She vaguely recalled being unable to find Bella, and reading a book instead.
Narcissa Black.
The sudden excitement in the memory surprised her, though his face didn't reflect his eagerness. But he knew who she was, knew that she was a Black, a respectable girl, one that would certainly be in Slytherin. She was a first year- he could show her around, tell her about the classes and professors... He dropped his feet to the floor, making space for her to sit where ever she liked.
Hopefully next to me. She's so pretty.
The innocent, happy thought startled her. Had he really thought that, so long ago?
"Sorry," she muttered, frowning, but recognizing his Slytherin badge. "Have you seen my sister? Bellatrix Black? She's a fifth year."
Lucius shook his head. "I haven't. But... you can sit in here. If you want," he added quickly. Narcissa saw herself scowl.
"I suppose." She lugged her trunk in behind her, and Lucius sprang to his feet to help her lift it into the overhead rack. "Thanks," she sighed, and plopped down in the opposite corner. Lucius subtly shifted into the seat across from her as she pulled out her own book.
"What are you reading?" he asked.
"Hogwarts, A History," she replied dampeningly. She didn't look up from the pages.
"I've read that, too," he pressed on with waning optimism. "It's quite interesting, don't you think?"
"Hm."
He didn't attempt to engage her again in conversation, but kept sneaking glances at her. Narcissa saw that her eleven year old self didn't spare him a second look.
The memories began to grow further in between, but they all began to have the same taste- heavy, monotonous... lonely.
He was in Abraxas's study, waiting with a dicernably tense set to his broadening shoulders. He was well into his third year, and Abraxas was checking his grades.
"Very good, Lucius, and your Quidditch record is admirable as well. However, one thing still concerns me."
"Yes, father?" he asked flatly.
"You should show a bit more interest in the girls in your year. I worry people will start thinking you're some sort of queer if you don't step out once in a while."
Behind his back, Lucius's fists clenched. Still have Slughorn watching me pretty closely, don't you? "I assumed it would be futile. Are you not planning to choose a wife for me?"
"Of course, but you still have a reputation to maintain until then. Go on," he waved him casually away, "your sister missed you."
The scene faded, and Lucius was back at Hogwarts, in the Slytherin common room. Watching. Priscilla Gamp and several other girls were giggling by the fire, but Prissy kept glancing back over her shoulder at Lucius, blushing, and looking away. Eventually, Lucius stood and headed over.
"Priscilla?" he asked in a distinctly detached voice, "May I speak to you for a moment?"
He didn't want to ask her to Hogsmeade, but he did. And they went- she chattered brightly and nervously the entire time, and at the end, he kissed her. And then it was over. The next Hogsmeade trip, he asked Vanessa Crouch. The cycle repeated. Then it was Ursula Prewett. Then Renee Flint, Elladora Rosier, Ariel McMillan... and on and on through nearly ever girl Narcissa had known during Hogwarts. Just once, no exceptions. At the end, he always kissed them, no matter how miserable the date had been. He liked kissing. As a child, he'd been deprived of physical contact- he liked feeling wanted. He liked how soft and sweetly fragile they felt when they wrapped their arms around his neck. But he didn't do any thing more, not even when he wanted to. He couldn't feel obligated towards these girls, not when he knew his father would pick someone out.
When the scene faded, it did not immediately relight. It took Narcissa a moment to realized that this memory was at night. They were outside, but there was no moon, no stars. And Lucius was running. His heart was pounding as adrenaline flooded his system; he sprinted along through the semi-blackness, scanning the surrounding area as he moved. A rustle off to the side, and panting, high gasps- the woman. Not his goal. He flung out his wand, and the woman dropped in a flash of green light. Narcissa's confusion melted into terror and her hand flew to her mouth, stifling a scream. But he wasn't finished. His target was within reach, almost. Surely he'd be getting tired. Lucius increased his pace, the years of hard Quidditch training coming in handy. There. The fool thought he could hide. Lucius leapt forward and curled his hand around the other's throat, slamming him effortlessly into the rough bark of the tree. Narcissa gasped, but found herself unable to look away.
"Fenwick," he snarled, grip tightening as the other man began to struggle.
"I know... nothing!" Fenwick gasped, eyes darting with terror.
"Liar," Lucius hissed, drawing his wand from his pocket. "Now, how would you like to do this? You could give me the names, and a simple charm could allievate your memory of this entire incident," A lie, "or, you can give me the names once I've broken your mind through torture. Which would you prefer?" An unveiled threat. Quiet, light; as though Lucius truly didn't care which one he chose.
"No!" He was sweating now, his breathing rapid. Lucius, in comparison, look quite calm. Narcissa shuddered.
"Very well, then." He stepped back, and the man called Fenwick looked hopeful for a split second, as though this was his chance to escape. "Crucio."
Narcissa shied away from his screams, unable to block the sound though she averted her eyes. Lucius appeared coldly disinterested as he flicked his wand, drawing an agonized shriek from his victim. She wanted to beg him to stop, as the writhing man was doing, but even if he had been been able to hear her, she could not speak.
"Malfoy," neither had heard the pop of apparation, but there was now another cloaked figure. "Anything?" the voice of a woman, warm and excited. Horribly familiar.
"I'm afraid not. I've killed the woman-" a whimper from the prone figure- "but he won't reveal any more Pheonix members."
"You've done well, Lucius," Bellatrix purred, sildling up beside him and staring at Fenwick with glittering eyes. "Very well. I'll tell him- you'll earn your mark for finding him, even useless as he's turned out to be- he's still one fewer mudblood fighting against our cause." She stepped between the two men. "I'll take it from here."
Lucius nodded, and disapparated.
Narcissa closed her eyes, taking deep, shuddering breaths. Did she really want to continue? See more of that? She'd read of Death Eater crimes before, but to actually witness the torture...! So many of the people she loved were involved, too. But she had wanted to know, hadn't she? Narcissa opened her eyes to take in the next scene.
It was night again. They were standing on a hill somewhere, a ring of mostly men, illuminated by a ghostly green flame in the center of the circle. But they were still somewhat relaxed, talking softly amongst themselves, perhaps to cover nervousness. They were all masked, but Narcissa could recognize the voice of her brother-in-law speaking to Lucius.
"Cutting shool, are you?" he teased quietly, subtly mocking Lucius for his young age.
"A Quidditch game, actually," he replied, unruffled. "But I'm sure the team will manage. There are more important things."
"Obviously," Rodolphus agreed. Suddenly, a hush fell over the crowd, and Lucius felt a sickening jolt of mingled excitement and fear in the pit of his stomach. This is it.
Narcissa fought the urge to hide- this was a memory, and she was not truly there- but she felt as though the cruel, red eyes of the Dark lord were staring directly at her.
"Welcome." His voice was cold and haunting, and he began to move slowly aroung the circle. It was not large- Narcissa counted less than fifteen people. As he walked by, each person dropped into a bow, muttering 'my lord'- all but one.
"My lord," whispered a breathy, reverent voice. Its owner fell into a deep curtsey, and when she arose, Narcissa was certain it was her sister. Voldemort gave a chilly smile, and touched her chin with the tip of his finger. She visibly shuddered in delight, but the hood of her cloak hid her face.
"My dear Bella," he purred. Narcissa glanced over to check Rodolphus's reaction to his wife's behavior- but his expression was impassive. That was odd; Rodolphus was fiercely proud, and she wouldn't imagine that he would approve of Bella's wanton actions. Strange he didn't care, especially when-
Oh. Well, he hadn't actually met her yet, had he?
By the time he reached Lucius, his walk around the circle was almost complete. "Young Lucius," he nodded. "I see no reason to postpone the night's events."
He did not ask if Lucius was ready, nor if he wished to join their ranks- that decision had already been made. Narcissa shivered at the inhuman features as he steped back, slowly, until he stood across on the opposite side of the fire. Lucius heart was pounding thunderously in the memory, but certainly no one else could tell- his face was an impassive mask as he took only a few steps forward, facing the Dark lord across the flickering emerald flames. With careful, steady movements, Lucius pushed back the sleeve of his robe, leaving his left forearm clean and bare. Narcissa stared at the white flesh, mildly fascinated by its unscarred state. There were no words spoken- the bonds were understood. No Unbreakable Vows were made; if a servant failed, he or she would be punished personally.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, as the papers were beginning to name the nightmarish wizard, dipped his wand into the flagration. He lifted it, bringing licking green sparks along with it. His red eyes gleamed and he watched Lucius carefully, as he slowly lowered thet wand to his skin.
It hurt. Much more than he'd expected, and his breath caught in his throat. However, he was aware of each set of eyes fastened closely upon him, checking his reaction, and so he grit his teeth and focused on keeping his expression blank. It was a deep, searing pain; he could actually smell his flesh burning. His fist clenched involuntarily, but he stared impassively at his arm. It wasn't quite as bad as the Cruciatius, but different; a permanent, enduring, tangible mark, rather than the manipulation of the mind. Inky tendrils curled agonizingly from the spot where the wand touched his skin, twisting and wrapping to form the signature skull and snake of the Death Eaters. Finally, the scalding subsided, and his new master looked up at him with a horrible smile.
"Welcome."
As the scene began to melt away, she fervently hoped the next would have nothing to do with his Death Eater activities. Her wish was granted- they were in the Manor, and Terentia was tugging his sleeve, looking up at him imploringly.
"Please Lucius, she likes you! Just one lunch and I'm sure she'll be content. You may even have a bit of fun! Say yes, please?"
Lucius sighed. "Fine. One lunch. In a very public place."
"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded. Lucius was not moved by her angry tone.
"Well Terentia, I think your friend is crazy," he explained, quite calmly.
"That's awful of you!" she cried. "Everyone loves Chels, you know? You're lucky that she wants to go out with you."
"I'm getting married, remember?"
Terentia gave a little shrugh, as though that fact didn't matter. "In what, seven, eight months?"
Lucius sighed, ducking his head pinching the the bridge of his nose. "If I go, will she leave me alone?"
"Er... Sure. If you still think that's what you want, afterwards. Oh, there's the door! Are you ready to go?"
Lucius's eyes snapped open. "What do you mean? She's already here?"
"I knew you'd say yes! Chels, come on in!"
Chelsea was pretty. Her skin was pale, and her face was round and sweet. She had bright green eyes and thick curls that bounced gaily with each step she took.
"Tia!" she cooed, hugging her friend before turning to Lucius and smiling up at him through her lashes. "Shall we go then?"
While Chelsea was turned away, Lucius threw his sister a murderous glare.
When they arrived at the restaurant, Lucius scowled.
"I've never been here before. And this is a primarily residential area. Wouldn't you prefer to go somewhere a bit more..." Populated? Public? Safe? "Formal? I'd be happy to pay, obviously."
"No! This is such a cute, private little cafe. Come on!" she chirped, tugging his arm as she lead towards the door. Lucius ground his teeth and followed her inside, where they were quickly seated and served drinks.
"Is there no menu?" he drawled distainfully, quirking his eyebrow at Chelsea as she propped her chin on her hand and smiled innocently. How grossly common and classless, he silently deemed the motion.
"Oh, I'm sure there are..." she drifted off, and he took a quick sip of his beverage in order to be saved the duty of replying. He noted vaguely that her mild grin had transformed into a delighted smirk, but was far more preoccupied with the fact that his drink was, sadly, not alcoholic. However, he could not quite place the taste.
"What exactly is this..." Suddenly, it didn't matter, because he's just caught sight of her elbow, still resting on the linen table cloth. The most wonderful elbow he'd ever seen in his entire life. And it was attached to the most luxurious, creamy arm, and that hand- his breath hitched in his chest. Her slim fingers, tiny and soft, cradled a rosy, silken cheek, which he ached to stroke. "Ah, that I were a glove upon that hand!" He wasn't sure from whence the errant quote came, but he didn't care. And her eyes-
"Chelsea," he choked, still scarcely able to breathe. She was beauty personified. He could not believe his luck at being permitted to sit in her presence. Lucius longed to touch her, but didn't dare. He could only gaze at her, entirely captivated. Narcissa marveled at the tangible shift of the memory.
"Lucius, darling," she purred, and he reeled at the melodious sound of her voice. "Are we ready to go?" She stood and he immediately followed suit, smashing his knee on the table as he did so due to an inability to take his eyes from her flawless face. He scarcely felt it.
"Anywhere," he replied, tracing her graceful movements as he trailed along.
"I live right across the street. That's why I picked that place."
"Wonderful," he echoed vaguely, preoccupied by her glossy ringlets, and how they caught the light. He followed her up a flight of stairs and into a smallish flat. Once they were inside, Chelsea flung the keys as side and dragged Lucius close for a kiss. He eagerly wrapped his arms around her, returning the kiss with an enthusiam he'd never before shown, nor felt.
"Now you," she drew back, eyes gleaming wickedly, "are going to spoil me. I know you must know exactly how-"
"But, my angel!" he interrupted with a worried look. "How can I know?"
She rolled her eyes, giggling as she ran one finger down his chest. "Don't act coy; I saw you at Hogwarts, and I know you must have been with half the bloody school- but now it's my turn."
"But dearest, you are my one and only, my-"
"Yes, I know, now,"
"No! Ever! There's never been anyone before, nor will there be anyone after you!" he promised passionately. She scowled as his words began to sink in.
"You mean... you're a virgin?" she asked disgustedly. Lucius nodded with wide eyes, deeply upset by her frown. She gave a little frustrated cry, and pushed him away. In a pathetic act of desperation, he whimpered.
"Oh..." she grumbled irritably, "What the hell." Chelsea turned back. "I hope you're a bloody quick learner." With a sigh, she kissed him once more.
Narcissa did not let the full scene play out- It was not one she particularly cared to witness. Closing her eyes, she sought a memory that included her.
Her intereference caused a retrograde motion- they were back at Hogwarts, in the library. Lucius was watching her carefully. Narcissa saw herself slouched lazily over a book- something she wouldn't dare in the presence of her mother.
Does she know? Lucius tried to ignore the clench in his gut. He'd always liked the youngest Black girl- she was charming and frankly beautiful, and he had observed her to be far less chattery than the other girls in her year. But somehow her wide blue eyes, which so often sparkled with laughter, especially around Rodtimer, seemed fearful when she regaded Lucius. And try as he might, he could not help but to recall the initial swoop of excitement when he read his father's owl announcing their upcoming marriage. But immediately, reality reminded him that she was not truly his to marry.
He approached cautiously and hovered undecidedly behind her chair for a moment. Suddenly, her hand swung back and skated playfully and affectionately across his abdomen. His stomach flipped at the unexpected touch.
"I know you're there!" Narcissa saw herself exclaim, and turn around. By now, she remembered the incident.
"Oh! I'm so, so sorry! I didn't realize, I thought you were Mort… Please excuse me! I- erm, can I help you with something?"
So she didn't know. Lucius regarded her carefully, instantly aware of how uncomfortable he made her. Should I tell her? No. Obviously not. She should hear it from someone she cared for. She'll be so upset.
Immediately, Lucius felt guilty. "Never mind," he muttered at last, turning abruptly and striding off before she could see his confusion.
I have to go, she realized suddenly. The real world was still out there, and Draco would be waking up soon. One more.
The final memory was dark, and for a moment, Narcissa feared that it would be another Death Eater mission. But once her eyes adjusted, she recognized her own bedroom in the Malfoy Manor, or what had been hers until she'd decided to move in with Lucius. The first thing she heard was a scarcely muffled sobbing, and realized that this must be their wedding night, for Lucius lay beside her.
Forcing back her own dreadful recollections of the night, she tried to focus on Lucius. Her crying was much louder than she'd thought it had been, and she crept nearer to see Lucius's face. Even without the added tenor of his memory, Narcissa would have easily recognized the emotions splayed across his face.
His jaw was clenched painfully, and his regular breathing was a struggle. He stared at the ceiling with an agonized gaze, and each time he stole a glance at his new wife, a crippling sense of self-loathing washed over him. A particularly violent shudder wracked Narcissa, and he began to reach out to her, but he couldn't. His hand curled into a fist as he pulled it back, beyond frustrated with his own ineptness. He was unable to comfort her- he was the source of her misery. But he wanted so, so badly to touch her, if only she hadn't asked him not to! His gut twisted uncomfortably-he despised himself for making her cry. Narcissa was, by nature, a loving person- he'd seen countless demonstrations of this, though never towards him, her husband. But she clearly could not love, like, or even tolerate him- was there something so flawed within his innate self that no one could love him? His parents and older sisters certainly hadn't, and he was all Tricey had- she didn't truly choose to care for him, there were just no others. But his wife? His own wife? He wanted her to love him. It was not against her nature. What's so wrong with me, then? It was true he was not her beloved Yaxley- but could she hate him only for that? Certainly not to the extent that she did. He'd planned to change things tonight, to hold and kiss her, finally allow himself to relax, just a bit, to perhaps have both a lover and a friend.
A tremble rippled across the matress, and Lucius again stared longingly across the wide gap she had created. He open his mouth- but would could he say?
Suddenly, Narcissa watched herself bolt upright and stumble across the room, searching blindly for the bathroom. When her pensieve-self finally located it, she quickly vanished inside. Still, her helpless sobbing was clearly audible.
She hates me. He disgusted her and she evidently could not even pretend to hide it; and he so wanted her to be happy! But he'd hurt her, humiliated her, forced her against her will- but he had not wanted to! He hadn't been given any more choice than she! Again, his stomach wrenched- he was going to be sick.
He darted up and hurried back into his own bedroom, closing the door behind him just in time to empty the wedding meal he'd just consumed onto the rich rug. But he wasn't finished- he rushed into the bathroom and heaved, doubled over the toilet, until he was entirely empty on the inside.
Narcissa pulled herself from the memories at last, stumbling as vertigo swept over her. She was back in the present, and a sleeply little whining cry indicated that Draco had just woken up.
It was later than supper time when Lucius returned home. Their son was already asleep for the night (or as much as the night that he would sleep through before demanding once more to be fed), and Narcissa waited up in a cozy armchair in the bedroom. She was beginning to grow impatient, flipping dully through the pages of Moste Potente Potions, when the door flung open. Eagerly, she hopped up to greet him, but paused when she saw the look on his face.
"Lucius, what-"
"You swore that we would be honest with each other," he snarled, eyes flashing. Immediately, she froze.
He couldn't know. He couldn't possibly know. There was no way he-
"Look, Lucius, I can explain-"
"What's there to explain? I always knew you didn't want me, but to lie about our son?"
"I..." she stared at him, baffled. What was he talking about?
"And what? Did you think I wouldn't eventually find out? You said you were staying for him- but you lied. You were embarassed, weren't you?"
"What are you talking about?" she cried at last, frustration bubbling over.
"This!" he snapped, thrusting a paper in her face. She snatched it away with a glare before looking down at the page. It appeared to be a section of the Daily Prophet. She skimmed over the words, until her eyes fell on a familar name. Her heart flipped instinctively, but began to sink as she read further down. It was a marriage announcement, of Rodtimer Yaxley and Jennifer Crouch.
"He turned you down, didn't he? You would have left Draco. You didn't want to... come back here."
Narcissa bristled at his cold tone, but forced herself to look closer first. She wished she was still in the pensieve- she prefered hearing his thoughts, but concentrated on his expression. That aloof mask that she so despised had settled over his features. However, she knew now that that look didn't mean he was heartless; rather, it was his way of disguising pain. He was in pain.
Suddenly, Narcissa didn't see her cold husband anymore. She saw a young, lonely little boy, trying desperately to hide his hurt because he'd been taught that it was wrong to feel. He'd become excellent at it, but she new what that impassive expression meant now. He was angry, yes, but that wasn't why he was so upset.
"Lucius," she sighed, moving forward carefully. He regarded his with uncertain wariness, remaining still until she was immediately before him. "Yes. That's why I came back. I did lie."
He had been prepared for a denial; he had no response to blatant honesty. She hadn't wanted him to. Carefully, she lifted one hand and placed it softtly to the back of his neck, hooking her arm over his shoulder. He twitched at the unexpected contact, but before he could step away, as she feared he intended to, Narcissa wrapped her other arm around his back.
He felt different than Mort. He was taller, for one thing; she could happily tuck her head beneath Rodtimer's chin, but she could only lay her cheek on Lucius's chest. His shoulders were broader, too, and he felt... harder. Mort had been fit, but Lucius's frame wordlessly announced his physical power. He also held himself more rigidly, as though unsure how to respond to the embrace.
"I'm so sorry," she murmured, and she was. Not just for lying, but for being blind for far too long. For blaming him for something he'd had no choice in. For not understanding. For not trying to. For everything; even what she'd had no control over. She was sorry he'd been neglected and sorry that he was lonely. Most of all, she was sorry that she did not love him.
But she would try.
Slowly, tenatively, as if he was worried that he might frighten her off, Lucius placed his right hand on the small of her back. When she still did not move away, he curled his left arm around her waist, gently pulling her close.