"Ca'I 'elp you?"
Lucius stared wordlessly at the tiny creature before him. He tried and failed to accurately calculate her age—three, perhaps? She cocked her head to the side and stared up at him curiously. A brave little girl, dressed quite peculiarly. Upon a mop of glossy brown curls was tangled a cheap little tiara. She wore a garish pink tutu, and the layered tulle that composed the skirt was bedraggled in spots, stained in others. She wore what must be her mother's shoes, shockingly pink heels that were many sizes too large for her tiny feet, and clutched an unmistakably real wand in her little hand. Lucius dropped to one knee in an attempt to approach her level.
"Hello," he murmured softly. "My name is Lucius." He extended his hand formally.
She beamed at him, and stuck her right fist, the one that still grasped the wand, into his palm so they could shake. "Lucy," she cooed proudly. Lucius flinched.
"Lucille! Lucy where are you?" a harried voice called from within. "You took Mummy's wand again… Baby, where are you?"
"Mummy!" Lucy spun on the spot and bounded towards her mother's voice, surprisingly quick in the oversized shoes. "Mummy! Vis'ter!"
"Visitor?" she echoed. "Baby, I know I've told you not to answer the door when—oh." Chelsea, the owner of the voice, came into view at last. She was wrapped in a towel, and her long hair hung dripping down her back. Lucy had climbed into her mother's arms and was not sucking her thumb shyly. "I wasn't expecting you to come so quickly. Or at all."
"You said it was an emergency."
"Lucy, baby, go play, alright? Take Mummy's shoes off." The child obeyed, and skipped from the hall singing brightly. "Come this way, I need to dress."
She led them into her bedroom and closed the door. "You can have a seat," she gestured to the unmade bed.
"I'll stand," Lucius countered coolly. "The girl seems to be in perfectly good health. Why did you tell me to come?"
Chelsea took her time in answering. She faced away from him and let her towel fall coyly as she reached for a robe. "Lucy is a darling little girl. So imaginative, so sweet. And did you notice her eyes? They're just like-"
"I saw them," Lucius cut in sharply.
"Well, forgive me," Chelsea huffed, "for thinking that you weren't so heartless that you might like to hear a bit about your daughter." She hurled the word at him like a slap. He didn't blink.
"You said there was an emergency, Chelsea. I am not so heartless that I would allow a child to suffer should there be such a risk, and yet you refuse to tell me why you summoned me."
"It's not easy, Lucius," she murmured, waving her wand about her head, so that her hair dried and sprang into the same heavy, gleaming curls that her daughter possessed. "Raising her all by myself."
"I certainly hope that you do not believe enough time has passed that I might pity you? That I've forgotten the means by which you brought that child upon yourself?"
Chelsea exhaled sharply, casting a miserable glance out the window and wrapping her arms more securely around herself. She didn't reply.
"If it's money you want, it's yours. Next time just owl with the amount and I'll have it sent directly."
"Well, money would help. But Lucius... If you just knew her, you'd adore her like I do. Would it really be so difficult to... oh, I don't know, come round twice a week for dinner? Come to her birthday parties, stop by at Christmas? She has no sort of father figure at all-"
"Well why don't you just bewitch one for her?" Lucius sneered. "How much do you want?"
"Oh, I didn't want you to come just to talk about-"
"A thousand? Five thousand? Give me a number and I'll be on my way."
"Why?" she demanded. "Why are you in such a rush?"
"I have a family to attend to."
"Oh, sure," she replied sarcastically. "A wife to love you and miss you, is that it?"
"Yes. I'll have twenty five hundred sent to your account. Good bye." Lucius turned to leave, and before she could stop herself, Chelsea blurted, "Well, that's not what I hear!"
Lucius froze, hand tensed on the knob of the door. "Excuse me?"
"Stuff gets around, you know," she sniffed haughtily. Lucius's head snapped to the side, eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Such as?"
"Oh... you know," she balked. "Nothing specific, just a rumour that things aren't necessarily the brightest in the Malfoy household right now."
"Who told you that?" His tone was ice.
"No one- gossip, is all! I was just thinking, if things aren't so great with you, what might it hurt to spend a bit of time with your only daughter, and of course I care about you..."
"You don't know a fucking thing about me," he growled, whirling to face her and stalking towards her. She drew back, eyes wide with fright. "Who told you that?"
"I-I can't remember! A friend, maybe?" She was against the wall now, and he could tell by her darting gaze that her plan had gone terribly wrong. "I honestly don't know-"
"Liar," he breathed, placing one hand against the cheap plaster wall on either side of her head. "Tell me. This can be very easy, Chelsea. Or it can be difficult. I hope for your sake, and the sake of the girl right outside this door that would be able to hear your screams, that you will choose to make it easy."
"You won't hurt me," she bluffed, though she was shaking with fear.
"You've bewitched her, haven't you?" he hissed. "My wife."
"Of course not," she spat. "I've never even met her. She's acting on her own free will."
In a flash, Lucius seized a handful of that thick, glossy hair and yanked sharply, causing Chelsea to cry out in pain and drop to her knees. Immediately, the sweet little voice that had been singing happily for the duration of the conversation ceased.
"Mama?" came Lucy's tentative appeal.
"Tell her you're fine," Lucius commanded in a low, dangerous voice, his wand drawn and pressed to her temple and hand still fisted in her hair.
"I- I'm fine, baby, everything's okay," she called, words quavering. There was a pattering of little feet, but Lucius was too quick. He pointed his wand at the door and whispered "Colloportus" a moment before the knob began to rattle.
"Mama," she asked again, now directly outside the door.
"Just give me a name," Lucius continued in the same soft, deadly tone.
"I told you, I just-" her words were cut off by a yelp and moan as he jerked her head sharply, slamming it against the wall.
"Mama!" Lucy cried, worried now, tapping the door urgently.
"It would be a shame for her if anything happened to you, wouldn't it? Although, you insisted putting my name on the birth certificate... that would make her mine, wouldn't it?"
"My cousin!" Chelsea gasped, the tears that had been pooling in her eyes spilling over at last. "My cousin told me!"
"Mummy..."
"And your cousin's name?"
"Mummy!"
"Lysandra!" she cried. "Lysandra Lestrange!"
Narcissa placed the letter down on the table, frowning. Why would Chelsea be so desperate to see Lucius? It sounded like they'd been out of contact, which should have been a relief, but what could she want with him now? Still clutching the letter, she walked purposefully to her study, and headed for the fire place. I'll just floo Lysandra, tell her how tonight went and ask her what she thinks, she decided, kneeling at the hearth. She had spent the last several hours moving all of her possessions back into the rooms she'd occupied when she first came to Malfoy Manor. Undoubtedly, Lysandra would approve of this action. When the view of the familiar living room that Lysandra and Rabastan shared came into view, she called out a greeting. Rabastan appeared quickly.
"Hey, Cissy," he smiled in a tired sort of way. "Long time no see."
"I've missed you," she told him, because it was true. She hadn't realized how much until she saw his warm, familiar face, but she had been spending nearly all her free time with his wife lately. "How've you been?"
"Alright," he replied, sitting down on the floor before her. "Rod's been..." he broke off mid-sentence, suddenly looking uncomfortable."Well, never mind that. I suppose you're calling for Lyssa?"
"Yes, is she in?"
"'Fraid not. She went out for dinner with her cousin, then said she had to pick up a few things... surprised she's not back yet, actually."
"Does she have family visiting from out of town?"
"Nah, Chels lives pretty close, they spend a lot of time together. Surprised you haven't met her, or heard about her at least."
"Me too. What was her name?"
"Chelsea. Sweet girl, really. She's not married, but has this beautiful little girl, Lucy."
For a moment, Narcissa couldn't speak. But then, Chelsea was a popular name, wasn't it? And there must be plenty with out-of-wedlock children. And naming the girl Lucy... well, that was too obvious, too incredible...
"Maybe I've seen her about. What does she look like?"
"Chelsea? Oh, not so tall, pale, lots of brown curly hair and big brown eyes; pretty. Little Lucy looks a lot like her, but she has these unbelievable grey eyes, everyone always comments on them. Smartest kid I've ever met, and she can only be about three or so..."
Narcissa's hands felt icy. "Rabastan," she whispered, trying to remain calm. "Who's Lucy's father?"
Rabastan shrugged. "Dunno. Neither of them has ever mentioned one, he's not in the picture."
"Right. Er... I have to go, I think I hear Draco... Tell Lys I flooed, alright?"
"Sure thing, Cissy. Have a good night."
Narcissa stumbled back, shaking. They had to be the same girl. Lysandra had to know that Lucius was the father of her cousin's baby. But all the evidence? Not just the late nights, the perfume and the lipstick smears, those she could chalk up to a sloppy secretary, but the memory in the pensieve? The visit to the office today? Those things she had witnessed firsthand; there was no way those were fabrications... was there? She wracked her brain, trying and failing to find any way those sights could have been falsified. She could clearly remember them, so a Confundus charm couldn't have been used... that would have left the moments little more than blurry suggestions.
Her thoughts were interrupted by an urgent pounding on the door. Distracted, she went to go see who the visitor might be, and hardly paying attention, she opened the front door to find Rodtimer Yaxley staring back at her.
"Oh!" she was so startled her train of thought came crashing to a halt. "Mort, what a surpri-"
"Narcissa." His voice was rough, desperate. "I have to talk to you."
"Oh. Well, come in, I suppose?"
He shook his head. "Not here, please. I don't..." he glanced around furtively. "Not in his home, you know?"
"This is my home too, Rodtimer," she reminded him softly. He gave an odd shrug.
"Please. Somewhere else."
"Well, Lucius is out and I... well, I quite wanted to talk to him about something... can't we stay here?"
He was already shaking his head. "I'm begging you, Cissy," he whispered.
"Er... alright then, I suppose." The desperation in his voice was making her nervous. "I have to go get Draco though."
"Yes, alright, bring him," he conceded. "Only... please hurry."
She nodded and swept out of the entry hall up towards the nursery. Draco was sound asleep, but roused when she lifted him and started to whine. "Darling, hush," she pleaded, but his little whimpers were morphing into actual cries. She stroked his cheek to attempt to sooth him, and then moved to lift his favorite blanket. However, in the process, one of the delicate platinum prongs that held the diamond of her engagement ring became ensnared on the collar of Draco's sleeping gown, and when she gave it a little tug to free herself, her hand slipped, leaving a shallow gash on Draco's plump cheek. His cries turned to screams.
"Oh! Oh no, baby, I'm so, so sorry..." She snatched up his blanket and hurried to her own room, tugging off her rings in remorse and dropping them on the bed before taking her wailing son into the bathroom to dab dittany on the scratch. "There, all better?"
He seemed content, and she headed back downstairs. Mort was still in the foyer, hands jammed in his pockets as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
"Can we-"
"Just a moment more." She rushed into Lucius's study, and reached into his desk to find some scrap parchment. None seemed to be available, so she grabbed the bottom-most document without reading it, and turned it over to write on the back. He could scourgify it if need be, but it was probably junk anyway. But after digging about for several more minutes, Narcissa could not find a quill. "Dobby!" she cried, frustrated. The elf appeared. "I need a quill to let Master know I'm headed out."
He brought her one immediately and she began to jot a quick note apologizing for being out late but that she needed desperately to talk to him when she came home. However, she'd only manage to scribble Lucius, I'm sorry before Rodtimer was at her elbow.
"Narcissa... I came because I couldn't wait a second longer. Please, please let's go."
"Oh, yes, alright!" she sighed, harried. Draco had begun to cry again. "Let's go."
The Manor was dark when Lucius returned home. Not that he'd expected any less. But his heart was hammering with anticipation, though his mouth was dry. She had to listen to him now. At long last, he knew why she had grown cold to him. And finally, he could tell her with certainty that she had been fooled, that she had been taken in by a plot designed to bring him misery. He would tell her what he knew, and the Lysandra would tell her the rest- willingly or by force, he didn't care. He would have his life back. He could not think yet of Narcissa's own duplicity, but that hurt would come later... once he felt secure once again. He headed directly for his study and, knowing it was a poor decision but unable to help himself, poured a glass of scotch. Then, he settled down behind his desk to gather his thoughts before waking his wife. However, as soon as he sat, he noticed something was awry. It looked as though someone had been shuffling through his parchments, and one drawer was open. He sat up, and saw that a large document was lying face-down on his desk. There were only three words written on the back, clearly in Narcissa's hand.
Lucius, I'm sorry.
He stared at them for a full minute before slowly turning the sheet over. He found himself staring at the contract for divorce that he'd had written up some time ago, back before he'd known her, back before she had loved him.
Suddenly, Lucius felt the air sucked from his lungs. He was on his feet in an instant, sprinting up to their bedroom. It couldn't mean what he thought it did. He was mistaken. He flung open the door, and was faced with silent darkness.
"Narcissa," he called roughly, though he already knew, as he lifted his wand to illuminate the room, that she would not be there. However, the beam of light did catch a glitter upon the sheets. He approached cautiously, and found himself staring down at her wedding and engagement rings. A quick turn of his head told him the room was void of her belongings. "Please," he whispered to no one in particular. "Please, no." A throbbing was beginning in his temples. There was a strange rushing sound in his ears.
"Dobby!" he called sharply. The creature materialized.
"Master?"
"Where is she." His tone was flat.
"A man was coming here, he is saying he needs to talk with her, she is needing to come with him... she is going."
"What did he look like."
"He is being tall, with dark hair and blue eyes. She is calling him 'Mort'."
With a jerk, Lucius tore himself away from the empty room and hurried down the hall.
The nursery wasn't completely empty. However, when he approached the crib, Draco was not there, nor was the blanket from which he was inseparable.
Lucius stumbled back, dropping to his knees. They were gone.