"Avada Kedavra!" A flash of green light, and Lucius scarcely waited to see if it had reached it's goal. "Sectumsempra!" There would be no hope of a Muggle surviving such wounds. "Ava- Bellatrix! Would you focus so we can get the hell out of here?" He skidded to a halt, glaring at the dark-haired woman. She ignored his command, a truly sinister light in her expression. With apparent delight and fascination, she watched the Muggle man upon the ground shrieking and writhing as she held out her wand. Gritting his teeth, Lucius lifted his own. The man went limp.
Bellatrix whirled to face him, eyes flashing. "What did you kill him for?" she snarled.
"You're wasting time. He said no survivors, and the Cruciatus curse doesn't kill."
"I was just having a bit of fun- you yourself have enjoyed a spot of Muggle torture from time to time, if I'm not mistaken!" she replied hotly, voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Well, tonight I think we should just finish what we were sent to do and then go-"
"Back home so you can fuck your pretty little wife? Oh, I don't think so Lucius! I'm not rushing through this. Crucio!" she downed a fleeing inhabitant, and laughed.
"That's your own sister you're talking about," he hissed, again brandishing his wand to kill the victim she seemed so intent on torturing.
"Malfoy!" Her tone had a whining tinge to it now. "Stop that!" Once more, she cast the Cruciatus curse upon a Muggle, and for a third time, Lucius hissed 'Avada Kedavra.'
"Do it again, Malfoy, and it'll be you I torture!"
"I'm not afraid you you," he sneered. "Mad Bella, they call you, but I don't fear your insanity like everone else-"
"Crucio!" she screamed, and he ducked as a jet of red light soared inches above his head.
"See, it's your addled brains that make your aim bad," he taunted, narrowly avoiding another spell.
"Sectumsempra!" Her hex shot past Lucius's shoulder, but hit another Death Eater some ways back. He dropped to the ground with a cry.
"Damn it, look what you've done! I'm not taking care of him, but I'll be glad to tell the Dark lord why you're maiming our accomplices."
"Fuck you, Malfoy!" she snarled, lowering her wand. "I hope you get killed by the Aurors when they show up." With that, she turned and sprinted off- not towards her unintentional victim, who lay moaning on the ground, but into the darkness after the escaping Muggles. Lucius grit his teeth, and, despite his words, turned back to the man. This was meant to be the easy part, and there should be not deaths.
"Alright, then?" he asked, approaching the man. "Can you tell me where you live, and I'll make you a portkey?"
The man gasped out an address Lucius found a large pepple to change. "You have someone here to take care of your injuries?"
He nodded, and Lucius pressed the transport into his hand. "There you are, then. It should only be a moment."
"Thanks, Malfoy," he rasped, and Lucius paused. He had not realized that his was assisting an acquaintance, but before he could ask, the man promptly vanished.
Narcissa waited. She sat in bed for a while, then paced the floor, all the time cursing herself. She shouldn't have procrastinated. But now it was too late... though Lucius had said he would most likely be back in just a few hours. Eventually she put her robe on, found a book in the living room, and sat down to read. It was not a very interesting story, and she found herself glancing at the clock every few minutes. It was almost midnight.
Quarter to one.
One seventeen.
One forty-six.
One forty-seven.
One forty-seven and thirty-nine seconds.
Sighing, she tossed the book down, and moved into the other room, throwing aside her robe and crawling beneath the blankets. Narcissa wasn't sure how long she stared into the darknessbefore exhaustion overtook her, but she awoke with a start ad the first dim rays of sunshine filtered throught the drapes. She reached over eagerly, but ther fingers found only cold, undisturbed bedding. Lucius had not come back.
Something is wrong.
He'd said just a few hours, and he still had not returned... Panic began to twist in the pit of her stomach. The small cottage, meant to be a retreat from the outside world, did not recieve a morning paper.
Seeing no other choice, she swung out of bed and hurried over to the fireplace. There was an ornate vase filled with floo powder, and the first person she decided to check with was Bellatrix. She knelt to the floor, poking her face into the licking green flames. Once she was taking through all the swirling chimneys to her sister's home, she cried out, "Bella!"
There was no reply.
"Bella! Bellatrix! Rodolphus?"
Silence greeted her. She was about to withdraw and try Rabastan, when a scrawny elf hobbled into view.
"The master and mistress are sleeping." It announced the lie its masters had told him to give to any visitors. "And will not be disturbed. Good day."
""No, you don't understand! I'm her sister, it's urgent, you must let be speak to them!"
"No disruptions, my mistress says," it repeated, and moved from the room.
Frustration and fear welling, she decided to call on Rabastan. If Bella and her husband were home, then surely the mission was over- Lucius should be with her by now.
"Rabastan?" she called uncertainly. "Rabby? Are you here?"
Her ears perked as she heard footsteps, but it was not Rabastan that entered the room.
Lysandra still managed to look stunning although she'd clearly just rolled out of bed. She wore a short silk gown and her hair was piled in artistic disarry upon her head, and she cupped a steaming mug of coffee in her hands.
"What?" she asked bluntly, yawning widely.
"I... er, is Rabastan here?"
"No. He ran off last night for some kind of business emergency. What do you want?" Her voice was cold.
"If... if he's not here, then nothing. Thank you anyway."
"Bye," Lysandra replied, turning to leave the room.
Who could she try now? She wondered desperately.
Severus! Of course, and he would be at the Manor if all was well with him. Her head was transported quickly back to her home, and she called out, "Severus!"
Immediately, the nanny they'd hired bustled into the room, holding Draco.
"A-ma!" he squealed in delight, recognizing her face in the fire. Despite herself, she smiled.
"My baby," she crooned back, and he clapped his hands.
"Now, Mrs. Malfoy, I thought I might be seeing you here this morning! Everything is fine, running without a snag. Now I must insist that you enjoy your vacation!" the woman said warmly. "Shoo, go along now."
"Can I speak with Severus?"
"Well, Mr. Snape has not yet risen for the day, but I can leave him a message if you'd like."
"So... so he is there, then?"
"Of course," she replied, not knowing that Severus had Disapparated from his room last night after retiring.
"This is very important. I must speak with him."
"I'd go wake him, Mrs. Malfoy, but he's locked the door and set Silencing spells on it- can't hear when I knock, you see."
Narcissa grit her teeth. "Very well. Good bye, Draco my dear."
There was only one place left to go. Only one other Death Eater she knew well enough to call upon.
Rodtimer.
When her face appeared in the fireplace, she saw the girl Jennifer crossing the room, arms full.
"Oh!" she gave a little cry of surprise. "Narcissa Malfoy, right?"
"Yes. Please, please, I need to see Mor- er, Rodtimer right away. It's very important." She stared up at the other woman beseechingly.
"He's... not fit for recieving guests at the moment," Jennifer replied uncertainly.
"I'm not a guest, I'm an old friend, and it's very important!"
"Jen!" They both looked in the direction of the call. "Jen, are you coming back?"
"Coming!" she called, looking concerned. "Er... please, Narcissa, it's not a good time-"
"It's urgent!" Narcissa cried, desperate.
"Jen!"
"Just come and wait in here," she decided quickly. "I'll go ask him is he's up to seeing you." She hurried into the next room, and Narcissa flooed her entire self in with a rush of relief. Nearly ten minutes passed before the door opened once more, and Jennifer sighed, "Alright. He'll see you now."
Narcissa hurried past the other woman, and for a moment forgot why she had come. Mort was lying in bed, freshly-bandaged, eyes shut with pain. But he looked up at her and smiled, and Narcissa rushed forward.
"Oh, Mort, you're hurt!" she cried, reaching out to lay one hand tenderly on his cheek and sitting down on the bed beside him. "What happened? Are you going to be okay?"
"Cissy," he turned his head, pressing a kiss to her palm out of habit. "I'm fine. I got hit by... er... companionable cursery. The cuts aren't too deep, but I can't for the life of me get them to heal-" he gave a weak laugh. "Well, let's just hope 'the life of me' isn't what I have to give up."
"Don't say that!" she pleaded, grasping both his hands. "Please, don't say that." She brought his fingers to her lips, staring at him with fear.
"Once everything is over, I'll find whoever cast it- I'm pretty sure it was your sister- and ask for the counterspell. I'll be fine."
His words brought her back to reality, and as she recalled why she had come, Narcissa let his hands fall and blushed.
"I... I came to ask if you knew where Lucius was. He said when he left that he'd probably only be gone for a few hours..."
"Sometimes it is only that," he told her, patting her leg in a reassuring manner. She did not move away from his touch. "But it was bigger this time, he'll probably be a day or two still."
"So he's alright?" Narcissa was devastated and ashamed to hear how unenthusiastic her words sound. Rodtimer didn't seem to notice, or if he did, was not bothered by her tone.
"Yes. Last time I saw him-" he paused, unsure of why he did not want to tell Narcissa that it had been her husband that had sent him home, saved his life. "He was fine."
Narcissa nodded rather stiffly and rose. "Thank you. I- I suppose that was all I needed." Yet she could not bring herself to move. She felt locked in place by his stare, hungrily taking in his intense, dark blue eyes, his strong nose and square chin. His own gaze seemed to be tracing her own features in a similar manner, and neither twitched a muscle until a soft cough interrupted them.
"Jen," he said quickly, looking chagrined.
"Are you all done here, then?" she asked with forced politeness, giving Narcissa a strained smile.
"Yes, thank you. I- er, I hope you fell better soon, Mort. Rodtimer," she corrected, and hurried from the room and into the fireplace. However, she did not return to the cottage. If Lucius wouldn't be back for days, she may as well go back to the Malfoy Manor.
When she arrived, she quickly located the nanny and her son in the nursery.
"You can go for a while," Narcissa told her, lowering to the floor beside Draco. "And how's my little baby?" she cooed, wishing his sweet bablings could fully settle her flying thought and emotions.
Lucius stumbled into the cottage, eyes moving hopefully over the living area. He tossed his mask aside and began to free himself from his robes as he called out, "Narcissa!"
There was no reply. He frowned, striding into the next room. "Narcissa?"
She wasn't there, but he was not immediately concerned; he'd been gone for nearly twenty-four hours. She had, in all likelihood, returned home to their son. He flooed there directly, guessing correctly that she would be in the nursery.
He approached quietly, and leaned against the doorway to watched them unnoticed for several moments. There was a curious warmth in the pit of his stomach that he thought might be happiness- that, at least, would explain why the to corners of his mouth were turning upwards, seemingly on their own accord.
Draco spotted him first, and cried out in delight. Narcissa turned too, but gave him only the most fleeting of smiles as she rose slowly.
"You're alright then? I was quite worried," she said in a rather distracted voice, placing Draco gently in his crib. Something in her tone concerned him, but he pushed his doubts aside.
"I'm fine," he murmured, wrapping an arm around her waist and dipping his head to kiss her. The second his lips touched hers, he knew something was wrong and released her instantly, stepping back. For a moment, just a moment, he had been forcibly reminded of their prior conjugal acts; her lips had been cool and unresponsive, and he felt as though she had thought the kiss both unwanted and invasive.
It was on the tip of his tongue to apologize, but he was not exactly sure for what he was meant to be sorry. He had left abruptly, yes, but she knew he'd had no choice in that- and certainly she had not been unwilling to kiss him before he'd Dissapparated! He shifted uncomfortably. Perhaps he should have not strode into the room and kissed her as he had. She was probably not ready for such familiarity yet, and he ducked his head, trying to hide the frustration he felt not towards her, but himself. He was new at this, and clearly not doing a very good job.
"I've sent the nanny home, and Severus was here a few minutes ago; I told him to leave as well. It seems obvious that we're not destined to have a honeymoon. Not yet, anyway."
Lucius longed to protest, but pressed his lips together and swallowed his words. He knew she did not mean 'honeymoon', she meant 'sex', and he tried to ignore the gnawing dismay that seemed to have quashed the budding happiness.
"Of course," he managed. "If you're not... ready, then... well, whenever you are..."
But why wasn't she ready? She had been ready twenty-four hours ago, and he'd completed his mission with impressive speed to return to her as quickly as possible. Confused but unwilling to let her see, he walked over to Draco's crib staring absently down at their son.
"I think I'll owl the owners of the gîte and ask that they send back our belongings.
"Its ours for another five days," Lucius reminded her. "We could wait, be sure that we really don't want to return..."
"I'm sure," Narcissa replied primly.
That evening, Narcissa had to fight the inexplicable urge to return to her own bedroom. She was being unreasonable, she knew, and one brief encounter with Mort should not have undone the progress she had made with Lucius- but somehow she'd managed to forget, or at least push aside, the memory of how his mere gaze could cause her stomach to somersault, or how the lightest brushes of his fingers could simultaneously drive her mad with desire and fill her with a sense of security.
She wanted Rodtimer. She had never stopped wanting him, and although she was beginning to like Lucius, it was nothing, nothing, compared to the years she had spend with Mort. She didn't want to have to keep reminding herself not to be repulsed by Lucius's touch, she wanted the ease with which she could sink into Mort's arm. She didn't want the awkward silences and pauses between her husband and herself, she wanted the easy companionship of her soon-to-be-married lover and once-best friend. Her visit today had reminded her of that.
It wasn't Lucius's fault. She told herself that over and over again as she laid beside him in the darkness, curled on the edge of the matress. But still, a childish part of her could not help but to blame him; after all, if he'd never been born, then she'd be happily married to Mort right now.
Her mind quickly began to embellish the fantasy, as she saw herself as the one tending to his wounds, dabbing his forehead with a cool cloth, stroking his cheek tenderly as he rested-
"Narcissa?" Lucius's voice interrupted her thoughts, and she couldn't help a flash of irritation.
"Yes?"
There was a beat of silence. "May I kiss you good night?" he asked finally. He fought to keep his expression neutral, as though he truly did not care whether she replied 'yes' or 'no', but she was almost positive she heard a wavering of uncertainty in his voice.
"Good night, Lucius," she sighed, rolling over to press her lips to his. His head lifted slightly, eagerly, but Narcissa quickly pulled away. It was all she was willing to give him for tonight; she would need a few days to lock Mort once more into the deep recesses of her heart so she could plod on in her life without him.
Breakfast the next morning was a quiet affair. Every few minutes, Lucius paused as though he wished to say something, thought better of it, and resumed eating. However, once the meal was over, he did not vanish into his study to work, but instead took the Daily Prophet and followed his wife in son into the large playroom that held only a fraction of Draco's many, many toys. As Narcissa crawled about, amusing the child and giggling along with him, Lucius sat down and read the paper.
Narcissa felt uneasy with Lucius in the room. She was certain he was watching her every movement, but each time she glanced over her shoulder, his eyes were fixed innocently on the page before him. He made no explaination as to why he was not working, and did not attempt to engage her in idle chit-chat, but when she stood to take Draco up for a nap, he neatly folded the paper (something Narcissa had never been able to accomplish) and trailed after her.
In the nursery, Narcissa took as long as humanly possible to lay Draco down, make sure he had a snug grip on his favorite blanket, and kiss his forehead. She considered actually waiting for him to fall asleep, but Lucius, hovering in the doorway, asked quietly, "Do you think we could have a word, Narcissa?"
"Alright," she replied stiffly, reminding herself not to relieve her frustration by treating him cruelly. "What is it?"
"Not in here." He turned and walked the brief distance to their own bedroom, ushering her inside and closing the door. "Now," he began, not looking at her but placing the Prophet on a table and running his index finger along the crease, perfecting the edges. "I think that there is some you would like to tell me."
"No, there's not," she said stubbornly.
"Allow me rephrase myself: Tell me what it is that you are withholding that has so evidently unsettled you. You vowed that we would be honest with one another, Narcissa, and I cannot help but to feel that you are reneging upon that pledge." His words were formal and pedantic, and Narcissa recognized that he was uncomfortable.
"Just give it a few days," she sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed, "and I'll be fine."
"I'd rather not wait," he said quickly, both surprised and pleased that she had confessed to being unhappy about something. He moved towards her quickly, so quickly that the draft his body created caused the paper to flutter to the floor. For a moment he hesitated, obviously wishing to go sit by her, but instead turned back to pick up the Prophet and return it carefully to the table.
It was too much for Narcissa.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" she cried. "Leave the bloody thing on the floor! You're being ridiculous! So what if your mother threw out a few socks when you were little and didn't put them away- get over it!"
For a moment, Lucius didn't reply. "It wasn't just a few socks," he said at last. Narcissa rolled her eyes.
"I'm so sorry," she bit back sarcastically. "A favorite T-shirt then, that you'd have grown out of in a year anyway?"
The topic was upsetting him, and she wasn't sure why- perhaps it had been more? A stuffed animal that he'd been particularly fond of? She hated to think what Draco would do if they took his little blanket away, and felt a moment of guilt. Before she could say anything, though, Lucius began to speak.
"If you must know, my uncle legally obtained a Snidget for me when I was four years old." His tone was efficient and detached, but he would not meet her eye as he spoke. "Capturing one in the wild is forbidden, and research upon them not obtaining to Quidditch is not widely known, but in fact Snidgets are very affectionate and friendly creatures. I enjoyed sitting on the floor with mine to feed it treats and engage in other childish games, so I would take its cage off the stand and return it when I was finished.
"When I was eight, I became ill with vanishing sickness. After the initial treatment at St. Mungo's, I was allowed to return home to recover fully, which essentially entails a great deal of rest and little activity. The treatment, you see, is quite exhaustive. So, as I was confined to my room and had little else to do, I brought the Snidget's cage to the floor as per usual. However, after a quarter of an hour, I was overcome with intense drowsiness, and returned to my bed for what I planned to be only a brief nap. Unfortunately, as I was still recuperating, I ended up sleeping through the entire afternoon and night, only to wake up the next morning to find that the cage, which I had so foolishly left out, and my Snidget with it, had vanished. Naturally, I was concerned, and asked my mother where they might be, and she told me that she simply could not permit be to fall into the habit of being untidy, even when I was ill, and so had been forced to do with my pet the same she had done with all the other- what was it that you said?- ah, yes, 'socks and T-shirts' that I'd so carlessly left out in the past." His tone was bitter, and he still refused to look at her. "Of course, to kill a Snidget is illegal, but I never could learn to whom she gave my bird."
Narcissa stared at him, lips parted and utterly speechless.
"If you don't want to disuss whatever is bothering you, suit yourself," Lucius snapped at last, and strode from the room, slamming the door behind him.
(A/N: SORRY for the super long wait and SORRY for not making this the chapter that you all really wanted! (And that Lucius wanted, too :/ ) But it just didn't seem right, somehow, I mean they've only been working at their marriage for a couple weeks now (although it seems like months because that's what it's been taking me to write the chapters :P). And alsooo (haha, self-advertising, wooh!) if you are of legal age and wanting some Lucius/Narcissa M-Rated humor, I'd be thrilled if yu'd check out my new WIP, 'Early Days'. Remember, though, only if you're old enough. Now, don't forget, reviews are my joy (for any story, lol)! Thanks :))