A/N: Thank you for all of the favorites, follows, and reviews.
4
Previously:
Harry stood in the doorframe and leaned against it casually as Abraxas and Lucius stood behind. They watched as Potter gathered himself and plastered an uneven smile on his face.
"I hope you have made her take breaks to eat, Draco. She gets bitchy when she is hangry."
**HGHG**
"Harry!" Hermione yelled. She was across the room and in his arms within moments, a huge smile on her face. "How?"
"Abraxas and Lucius popped in and got me."
"And Narcissa?" She asked, hope shining on her face. She craned her neck to look behind the Malfoy men as if she were just hiding behind them.
"We couldn't take her. He has her bound to his side in some way." Abraxas said.
"I'm so sorry, Lucius." Her eyes were brimming with guilty tears.
"Just because we didn't get her this time, doesn't mean that we won't get another opportunity next time. Plus, I have a feeling that we are going to be seeing the Dark Lord sooner rather than later." Abraxas said.
"Oh? And why is that?"
"He saw me and he knew exactly who I was. The only reason he isn't at our gates right now, is because he is trying to figure out how I am alive and looking as if I were in my late thirties."
"How old are you?" Draco asked curiously.
"I suppose we will have to brew a potion to find out." He shrugged his shoulders.
Hermione's attention was once again on Harry as she gave him a thorough examination. Her lips thinned in displeasure as the newly healed lash marks glowed a shiny pink in the dark lighting.
"What happened to you?" She muttered, horrified.
"Hermione, look at me." Harry grit his teeth. He knew Hermione better than anyone alive and she needed to pay attention to what he was going to tell her. He waited until her eyes met his with worry and guilt. "I did what I did because he wouldn't have just killed you. He wouldn't have even tried. He wanted to capture you, badly. I didn't realize how true that was until after I was taken prisoner. He is fixated on you and has been for a long time. I wanted to give you a chance to find a way to kill him. You don't need me anymore. Not like that.
Did you know that I was a horcrux? That is why I didn't die when he cast the killing curse at me this time. There was no one more shocked than me, believe that. I couldn't stand living if both you and Ron were gone. I made my choice and I do not want you to feel guilty over it. I chose to save you and when I was being tortured that was the only thing that kept me sane. "
"I should have done something."
"Like what? If it wasn't for Snape, I doubt you would have even gotten out and don't think that they didn't notice his little helping hand. They did."
"What did they do to him? He looked fine the other day."
"My point is that there was nothing that you could have done differently." Harry avoided looking at her. He wasn't the best at lying and even worse when it was to Hermione. His ears turned pink, knowing that she would seek him out later and force the information from him.
"Poppet, why don't we let Potter rest." Lucius gently pried Harry out of her grip. Harry threw him a look of gratitude that made Hermione narrow her eyes suspiciously.
"I'll see you tonight. I'll visit." She warned.
"Sounds good, 'Mione." Harry mumbled, fully capitulating. He followed Lucius out of the library and presumably up to one of the many refurbished rooms that the Elves had been busy restoring. Abraxas stepped into the library and next to Hermione.
"How can I ever thank both you and Lucius for saving Harry?" She asked. He threaded his fingers through hers and she looked up into his intense stare. His hand was larger than Draco's, his skin was rougher, more callused.
"Come with me for a walk?"
"Where to?" She asked breathlessly. His thumb was absently caressing her knuckles.
"I want to show you something." She nodded her head. "Draco, tell Lucius that I took Hermione to the glade."
"Will do." Draco said absently. He seemed to be quite absorbed by the book he was currently reading. It would have been quite convincing, had his neck and ears not turned a bright red.
"Are you okay Draco?" Hermione asked concernedly.
"Yes," He flippantly replied. "Never better." His eyes glared momentarily at his grandfather before lifting the book closer to his face.
Hermione shot Abraxas a perplexed look and raised her brows as she saw a look of pure amusement glittering in his eyes.
"Come on, Love, through here." He pulled her into motion and she walked next to him through the halls to a glass room that boasted amazing views and a pair of beautifully crafted French doors. White silk curtains hung from the ceiling and hung gracefully to the floor. Each panel was gathered at the center and secured to the glass. The material fluttered with a magical breeze that gave the illusion of warm spring days. The room was filled with delicate and rare plants that couldn't survive the clime of southern England.
Abraxas slowed and watched Hermione's face as they walked through one of three attached green houses that the property offered and mentally noted which ones she seemed to gaze at longer than the rest. He wondered if she was interested in Herbology. He smirked as he led her to the doors that would drop them outside. She stumbled in the doorway, not expecting the sudden step down. Abraxas caught her by the waist, his gaze hungrily roaming her face. Hermione looked up at him and caught her breath. He was handsome. Fiercely protective and confident. He was close. Close enough that if she felt the inclination to connect their lips, all she would have to do is lift her face an inch higher.
She wanted to. She could feel his hands steadying her, burning through her robes. Breathing became more difficult as she inched closer and closer to his waiting lips. He smiled brilliantly, her stomach clenching with a sudden need so powerful that it rocked her. She felt as if she were drowning in him.
He pulled back and set her on her feet properly but kept his arm around her waist. He led her up a grassy knoll and conjured a woolen blanket for them to sit on. They sat like that silently, side by side for what seemed an age before he lifted their now connected hands and pointed out a small grove of trees in the distance. A slight shimmering brought her gaze into focus as she stared at the spot he indicated.
Several adult unicorns meandered to the stream. They lowered their graceful necks and drank deeply from the shimmering stream. Three golden baby unicorns splashed through the shallows, dancing around each other as they played. Hermione caught her breath. She counted as many of the unicorns as she could and was astounded to note that this heard must be one of the largest intact and protected heard in the world.
"So beautiful." She murmured.
"Yes, beautiful." Abraxas breathed. She didn't even notice that he wasn't looking at the unicorns at all.
They sat undisturbed for what seemed like hours but as the light grew darker, Hermione steeled herself to leave the tranquility of the glade. She turned her head to ask Abraxas to take her back but she wasn't expecting him to be so close, his eyes glittering. Her lips parted in surprise and her blood raced. He was so very close.
He leaned in slowly, watching her every move. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and licked it nervously before letting it slide back, glistening and plump.
"If you tell me to stop, I will." His whispered breath caressed her newly dampened lips. She held perfectly still, wanting him to close the distance between them.
His lips closed over hers. He coaxed her response, her lips moving in tandem with his. Hermione moved into his arms as he pulled her closer. She could feel the planes and valleys of his body, the hardened muscular flesh and marveled at the feel of him beneath her inexperienced fingers.
His breathing grew ragged as they parted. She tried to pull her hands back from his torso where they had fisted in his robes but he caught them and pressed them harder into his body. His eyes glittered with the setting sun, a little half smirk on his lips.
"I am so glad that you are ours."
"About that," She said. Her eyebrows rose as she tried to ignore the fluttering in her stomach. "You and I are going to have a long talk about what you know about the prophecy."
"Once you are done with the memories in the prophecy room, I will answer any question you can think of, Love."
She nodded her head in acceptance. He helped her up and vanished the blanket before they meandered back to the glass room.
"I have been looking for you both." Lucius said from where he was leaning against the wall in the hallway. He was half hidden in shadow and when he moved closer, he looked angry. His haughty cold eyes pierced Abraxas with silent accusations.
"We…we were, Um." Hermione stuttered. Her anxious eyes on Lucius' face. He looked away momentarily from burning a hole in Abraxas' face to see Hermione's confused look. His gaze softened as he offered her his arm.
"It's okay, Poppet. You did nothing wrong." He soothingly murmured into her ear. He looked back at the unimpressed face of his father and glared once more.
"Where are we going?" She asked brightly, a little too brightly. She had no idea what was going on but she felt a little intimidated by the both of them to come right out and ask. She would ask Draco.
"The library. Draco wanted to take you back to the prophecy room."
"Why didn't he come and get me?"
"I have barely spent any time with you. I wanted to see you." He said matter-of-factly. She smiled at him.
"I didn't get to have that cup of tea that you offered to me last night. Would you mind if I came again tonight?"
"I look forward to it, Poppet."
She only parted with Lucius and Abraxas to enter the library alone. She smiled at Draco as he looked up from the book he was reading when she walked into the room.
"Draco, Lucius said you wanted to take me back to the prophecy room to start watching some of those memories."
"Yup." He smiled at her and closed the book that he had been reading. Tossing it lightly onto the nearest table. Once they left the library they could hear muffled arguing floating down that hall before it went silent.
"Are they mad at me?" She muttered apprehensively.
"Why would they be mad at you?"
"I kissed Abraxas." She admitted sheepishly. He smirked.
"No, they are not mad at you. They both want to do a lot more than just kissing you. I believe this is a case of the green-eyed monster. And probably safety." He muttered the last to himself.
"Lucius is jealous of Abraxas?"
"Yes."
"I should go back and apologize." She said fretfully. She didn't want them to cause a rift between them. Draco laughed.
"Leve them to it. It is something that we are going to learn how to deal with anyway. Malfoys as a rule do not share anything, least of all their wives. It's a new thing for us. Be indulgent."
He steered her down several hallways until they were once again standing in front of Sigurd.
"Twice in one day, I am truly honored." Sigurd smiled charmingly, his white teeth gleaming through the painting.
"Utterly ridiculous for a painting to flirt with a taken woman." Draco grumbled.
"Ah, but there was the hope that she would have pulled me from the abyss. I am quite devastated I didn't make the cut."
"Sorry, Sigurd. Only one life for you." Draco crowed, throwing his arm around Hermione's shoulders.
"Well Elskede, if you ever get bored of my descendants, you can always come here for riveting conversation." He smiled winningly to Hermione while simultaneously ignoring Draco.
"I will keep that in mind. Thank you."
"Of course."
Draco and Hermione walked once more into the prophecy room. Draco immediately took the chair in the far corner, lounging while watching Hermione choose the first memory off the shelf.
"They aren't in order." She mumbled.
"They aren't in chronological order, true. They are in the order that you should watch them. It took father and I the better part of a week deciding how to set them up for you. To be honest, we thought you would have looked through all of this before trying the spell you found."
"Do want to watch them with me?" Hermione asked.
"Not these ones. they are short and boring but needed for context. I'll join you when you get to the more interesting ones."
She nodded her head and dumped in the first six, letting them swirl together.
Abraxas was celebrating his seventeenth birthday, his friends surrounding him in his family's ballroom. Tom Riddle held court over them, dispensing his approval or disapproval in small bursts as boys sought his favor. They weren't very subtle about it and Tom was clearly annoyed. The adults were starting to shoot their group questioning looks as the bolder of the boys wanted to be included in Tom's inner circle. Abraxas smirked, his superiority assured. He was Tom's right hand man.
His father, the lush, embarrassed his son by sidling up to the group in a drunken stupor. He threw his arm around Abraxas' stiff shoulders and slurred half formed excuses for stealing away the birthday boy. Abraxas was humiliated. Why couldn't his father act like the powerful scion that he was? He was an embarrassment to the superiority of the proud pure family.
He was led into a room he had never been in before, a room that had previously been locked with powerful spells. He had always wondered what his father thought was so important to warrant not only his fathers' magic but time as well. His father was a lazy, entitled sot that rarely used focused magic on anything. What was so special about this room?
Memories glittered from their vials on shelves all around the room. The swirling iridescence of the undulating contents caught and held his attention.
"Brax, come here and take a look at this." Abraxas watched as his father took the small globe from the shelf it sat on, letting it roll between his hands, smiling slightly before dropping it into Abraxas'. His eyes lit up as the ethereal voice of his descendant floated around him. The prophecy burrowing into his heart. She would come in his lifetime, it could be his son that secures her. He frowned. There is nothing in the prophecy that indicated the chosen would be a Malfoy. He clenched his teeth. He would make it so, as soon as he found her, he would bind them together tighter than a Chinese maidens foot. He couldn't let another house have the chance to have her. She was exactly what he wanted his family to embody. Power and consequence. He felt a niggle of unease. Tom. They were so deeply embroiled in the pureblooded dogma. How would his master react if he found out that one of the most noble of families not only planned on marrying a Muggleborn but also banked on it?
Hermione's eyes narrowed as she watched the scene with Abraxas. What had he done to secure her to the Malfoy family? She was willing to bet that it had everything to do with the elusive contract. Soon, she would get her hands on it.
She blinked as the scenery changed. A burst of color blinded her as the bright sunshine of a clear summer day met her eyes. A tall blond sword wielding demon held the hill from the combatants that surrounded him. He was clearly the only warrior left standing against his enemies, the smaller Anglo-Saxons.
A Viking horn sounded in the distance causing the enemy warriors to stop their advancement upon the new king of the hill. Reinforcements have come and despite having the numbers on their side and felling a half dozen of the foreign giants, they were losing. The lone Viking stood unmovable on his mountain top. More than a legion of their fighters laid dead at his feet. The Viking was blood and gore spattered, his brown leather armor now dyed a red ocher. He screamed his berserker rage at the retreating army and let them flee despite the fury that fueled his slaughter. He held the hill as he was instructed by his King. A necessity to the growth and legacy of his people, his family.
His mother had sent him to the lush fertile lands of the Southern English shores with only a prophecy to remember her by. It was his destiny to build his legacy in this new land, a house that would one day merge his line with the great wizard Merlin. It was the hope of every magical family in the world, to be connected with Merlin would equate to political power and magical gifts beyond the norm.
As his brethren climbed the hill that he stood atop, his hair whipped around his body in a fierce dance, blood having long ago clotted the strands into clumps of red. He was tall and proud, his King even stopping to admire the figure of the warrior as they advanced.
"Sigurd Malfoy. You are gifted this land in the name of your King. You are to care and cherish every magical soul that resides on your land, giving them sanctuary from the onslaught of the non-magical heathens that scar the earth wherever they put down roots. Today they have been eradicated from one tiny portion of land, a sign of greater things to come from our magical brethren. Lord Malfoy the first." The Viking King raised the arm of his faithful, letting the cries of the other warriors fill the air with the newly titled Lords appointment.
Sigurd's prowess was finally recognized, vindication of the only son of a prophetess. It was destiny. He would stay, build a home and life suitably grand for his children, so that when Merlin's protégé came into the world, she would be pampered and adorned with all of the wealth that the Malfoy family could offer. He held the prophecy close to his heart, the warmth of his skin permeating the small orb.
He drove his great herringbone patterned iron sword into the ground at his feet. A long white ribbon that he had attached to his pommel rode the breeze denoting ownership. This was now Malfoy land.
Hermione sighed as the gory scene of the hill faded and she stood in the center of a large room. It had obviously been crafted by a master, the scrolling and carvings that detailed the entire space. Its dark wood reflected the light of the fire that danced in the marble fireplace.
A man was on his knees. He wore a white robe, his long platinum hair coiled on the back of his head. His beard was long and tossed over his shoulder, pushed out of the way as his face was in the fireplace. Hermione watched as the man sat back on his haunches, a thoughtful look on his face.
"Father, is everything okay?" A young blond boy asked. His feet were bare and he was newly awoken. There was a poverty that surrounded the duo, a shabbiness that belied the wealth of the room. Their clothes were severely worn; the gaunt, sunken look of their cheeks showed want.
"Come here, Arundel." The tired old man gestured to the floor next to him. The boy, only ten or so, sat, his brow wrinkled in fear.
"Your Grandfather died last night and he left us little more than beggars. This land, house, and its contents are all we have left of the Malfoy monies. The goblins will hound us for a century for his folly. We must work hard, Arundel, so that when our lady is born, we have something to offer her. Would it be our fate to lose her to another house despite being forewarned? Your grandfather was a selfish man. He cared little for the family prophecies. Her birth is more than five hundred years away but that does not mean that we should let the next generation worry about it. It is our duty to the Malfoy line to give our future generations something to build on. The type of wealth and safety that she deserves should be the work of countless generations, whether we get meet her or not. It would be an honor to marry such a woman and we must prove that we are worthy enough for her."
Arundel was nodding. He watched seriously as his father's chin rose. They had to discharge all debts within their lifetimes. They couldn't leave the future Malfoy's to clean up the mess of their forbearers.
Hermione blinked tears back as she watched the scene change. The Malfoys didn't even know her and still they wanted her, even then. So much so, that they grew their fortunes for her sake and not their own. It was touching. She waited as the next memory finally coalesced around her.
Draco Malfoy watched as a curly headed witch ran out of the classroom. He had overheard the comments of her own house, the unflattering bullying that accompanied her to each lesson. She was brilliant. The teachers saw it, he saw it, how could her own house not see what an amazing asset she would be to them?
He started to walk to her, captivated by her. Wanting to stop her tears and offer her comfort, he began following her. His heart lurched as he watched her glare at her tormentors and walk as if she were supremely unperturbed. Pride swelled his chest, his eyes focused on the oddly familiar eleven-year-old Hermione Granger.
There was a moment that stilled him. His father would not be impressed that she was a Gryffindor but that could be overlooked, couldn't it? It wouldn't be the first time a Slytherin was interested in a Gryffindor. He was decided. Tomorrow he would befriend her. Fingers flexed as he repressed the urge to touch the curls that were bouncing on her head. Were they as soft as they looked? He finally tore his eyes from the back of her head and followed his dorm mates back to the Slytherin common room.
Time jumped as the memory moved forward, Hermione stood behind the young Draco Malfoy who was firmly ensconced at the Slytherin table, his eyes more often than not on her younger self who sat between Harry and Ron at the Gryffindor table, a book propped against the juice jug.
Draco's stomach clenched in longing and anger. How could she just forgive the Weasel so easily for the things he said about her, to her? She was too kind for her own good. Draco scowled. Whatever happened to make them friends happened three days ago and Draco was angry. She was better than them, Potter and Weasley. He kept waiting for her to come to her senses. She would get tired of the nasty comments and kick the duo to the curb and when she did, he would be there to pick up the pieces. He refused to make the same mistake twice.
The memory swirled into the next almost seamlessly.
An older looking Abraxas strolled down a familiar street holding the hand of a boy that Hermione knew was Draco. They passed her house as she watched, headed for the local playground. Draco was eight and obviously not happy about the outing. He was in muggle clothes and kept pulling on them. They were uncomfortable and boring. He would have preferred his normal attire.
Abraxas sat on a bench next to Richard Granger, her father and sent Draco off to play. Abraxas gazed at the young curly headed witch that was bossing the kids on the slide.
"Richard." Abraxas greeted.
"Good to see you again Abraxas! It's been a while."
"When family business calls…" He said as Richard nodded his head knowingly.
"My father would have loved for me to take over the family business but what do I know about shipping and the importing/exporting business? I never had a head for it." Richard said.
"You are lucky. My father couldn't have cared any less about the business. Had I not picked it up we would have been penniless. I couldn't allow that." His gaze returned to Hermione. She had pulled Draco onto one of the swings as she took the one next to him. Abraxas smiled.
"Ah well money isn't everything."
"No but it helps get what you want."
"True. It's not like I don't make a fair amount." Richard chuckled before turning serious. "Strange things have been happening around Hermione and I don't know who else to talk to about it."
"What kind of strange things?"
"Last week during dinner, Beth told Hermione that she had to eat every bite of her broccoli before she could be excused from the table and the next instant the broccoli was all gone. Not just the ones on her plate, but every tiny morsel in the whole house."
"She is a special girl, your Hermione."
"I don't know what to do."
"Is it hurting anyone?"
"No."
"Leave it be. One day it will all make sense."
"You don't seem surprised."
"I'm not. She is a witch and one of the most talented in a thousand years."
"A witch?" Richard scoffed. "Fairytales."
"When she turns eleven, she will be approached by the most amazing magical school in the world called Hogwarts."
"Your serious."
"I am."
"Why are you here, Abraxas?" Richard asked shrewdly.
"I want my Draco to marry your Hermione when they grow older. Isn't it natural to want them to get to know each other?"
Richard's face turned red.
"We have been friends for years all because you want Hermione to marry your grandson?"
"Yes." Abraxas answered calmly. Richard's nose flared.
"Leave my daughter alone." He threatened before calling Hermione and leaving the park quickly.
"Well, that could have gone better." Abraxas sighed. "Come on Draco, let's go home."
The memory faded as the last memory materialized around her.
Lucius stood in the nearly empty vault with the prophecy in one hand and the contract clutched in the other. He looked like he was going to be sick, his lips pressed together in a long thin line. He set down the prophecy and poured one memory in the portable pensieve at a time.
Time seemed to speed by as he looked at every memory in the opened trunk, his expression morphing from fury and disbelief to amazement. He looked at the parchment still clenched in his fist, smoothing out the wrinkles he had made. Understanding finally flowed through him, he was stricken. His hand shook as he desperately tried to keep his trembling at bay. The last page of the contract was being distractedly caressed by his large hands.
I, Abraxas T. Malfoy, the Paterfamilias, bind the Malfoy family to (Hermione J. Granger). We will hence forth ensure her protection and care at the price of our own if needed. In exchange, the next generation of the Malfoys are to be hers. I agree to betroth her to the Malfoy heir, (Lucius A. Malfoy Draco L. Malfoy) in accordance with the matrimonial laws of the Wizengamot. A hefty bride price to be determined at a later date.
Abraxas T. MalfoyJuly 16th 1991Richard 16/7/1991
It was obvious that the names and dates had been filled in over several years. She stared at the crossed-out name of Lucius Malfoy and let her jaw drop in shock. She wondered why Abraxas had tried to betroth her to Lucius when there was obviously another generation in between them. She shook her head, not that it mattered now. Her eyes wandered to the signatures and her eyes bugged out as she spied her father's signature. Her father signed it? What was going on?
Hermione came back to her body and looked around the small room. Draco had his elbows on his knees, leaning close to her. Their eyes met and locked, hers uncertain while his held only pleading for understanding.
"I want to see that contract."
"Not yet."
"Why not?"
"Finish the memories first. They will explain fully what is going on. You can finish them tomorrow, Granger. Father just informed me that Potter is asking for you."
"How could I have been betrothed to Lucius first? His name was on the contract but crossed out. I wasn't even born yet. And my father signed that contract! I would recognize his handwriting anywhere. How the hell did that happen?"
"The memories will explain everything you need to know."
"I will not be patient much longer."
"Understood."
**HGHG**
Narcissa had been alone in his room for the last two days. Her meals had been brought to her, great feasts, the sight of which she had only seen from her place on the floor while the Death Eaters met in the two years that she had been prisoner here. She worked herself into a tizzy, knowing that it was only a matter of time before Voldemort came for her and she wasn't sure she would be able to keep her triumphant thoughts behind her walls.
When Abraxas was revealed on the stage after Potter was saved, Voldemort studied the Malfoy who had been a servant in his own youth. Shock was quickly replaced with a shrewd cunning. Without moving, Voldemort watched as the previously dead patriarch tried and failed to liberate Narcissa from her place beside him.
The Death Eaters flocked the stage hoping to catch the familiar looking interloper and receive the heavy praise of their Lord and Master. Abraxas was faster though and he paused only long enough to meet her eyes in apology. She didn't mind. She was elated. For him to be there, to be alive meant that Hermione had done it. Hermione Granger raised the dead. The most brilliant witch in a millennium.
Narcissa's eyes shone with unshed tears and happiness. All of those years of suffering and fear mingling with unmitigated hope finally found a home in her gut. Her family was back. She smiled.
Her happiness was only compounded by the fact that her family managed to liberate Potter right from under the Dark Lord's nose, figuratively speaking. She wondered if it had been Lucius or Draco. It was actually quite smart of Abraxas to try and take her and not leave it up to the other two. Perhaps it was Sigurd. Maybe he finally got his dearest wish to be one of the chosen. She smiled at the thought of the unexpectedly tender Viking being alive once more.
The door creaked open and Narcissa flinched. Bellatrix followed closely on the heels of Voldemort. He was watching her the way a snake sized up their victim for his next meal. She shuddered in response. There didn't seem to be a way out of this. Not for her.
Numbness stole over her body, holding her captive before acceptance sank in. She got what she wanted. Hermione had returned the Malfoy's from the dead. Her chin rose in defiance. If she was to die, she would do so with dignity and strength, no matter what he did to her.
"Cissy, Darling, can you explain to me why Abraxas Malfoy tried to take you from me, and why another was able to successfully steal Potter from me, from your sister?"
"Abraxas died a long time ago."
"Ah, but I am aware of that, Darling. If the man is supposed to be dead, how is he alive?"
"I suppose you will have to ask him."
"Oh, I intend to Darling. But first I felt that without all of the pertinent information I may be walking into a trap. That is where you come in. I would like you to give me those memories that you have been hiding for the last two years."
Bellatrix moved forward and clasped Narcissa's hand between her own.
"Cissy, you could be rewarded for this. You don't have to be hurt all the time by Mulciber and Rosier. If you tell the Dark Lord what he wishes to know, I can help you. Take you home with me. He promised that if you gave up those memories to him, that as a reward to me he will let you go. Cissy, let me take care of you."
Narcissa looked into the mad eyes of her sister and felt like she was going to cry. Bellatrix believed this still. Refused to acknowledge that Narcissa's captor had been Voldemort all along, that she had been mercilessly tortured by his hands for years. How could Bellatrix look at her with such soft caring where only months ago, she refused to look at the sister that was forced to sit beneath the supper table like an animal. Forced to do degrading things to anyone who asked for them. What the hell was wrong with her sister that she could ignore the last two years and beseech her to just give in. She was so close. Potter was free once more and Hermione, that wonderful and amazing witch, raised the dead. Narcissa had no doubt that this war would end soon.
The door opened and Narcissa looked up into the unperturbed face of Severus Snape, his dark eyes ignoring her presence in the room.
"My Lord, there has been news from the scouts."
Voldemort screamed his rage and strode from the room leaving the two sisters together. He paused in the doorway long enough to catch Bellatrix's eyes.
"I need those memories."
"Yes, My Lord." She bowed her head in deference. "I will get them for you."
"See that you do."
Narcissa looked deeply in Severus' eyes and saw the lingering apology. He did all that he could to give her more time. She could sense that. Her lips twisted in a mockery of a smile. He knew what she was trying to say. He always did. She felt the comforting brush of his mind against hers for a moment. Spinning on the balls of his feet, he left, following his master down the corridor.
"You can give them to me, Cissy. I will protect you."
"Bella, if you have ever loved me, if you have ever felt pity for the position that I am in, please, let me go. I can't give him those memories. If it was of no consequence, do you think I would have held them so tightly to myself? Let me go." Narcissa whispered.
"Cissy, I love you. You are the only family I have left, other than the Dark Lord but you have brought this on yourself. Why did you have to make things so difficult for yourself? Why resist? Did you not think of what your lowly position would do to my own? I get ridiculed every day because you are used by anyone who wants to touch you. 'At least your beautiful sister can give children to whom ever gets her in the end.' Do you not think that would be traumatizing to me? That it would hurt me?"
"Bella, you are not the one being raped and tortured. This is about something bigger than personal comfort and gain."
"Explain it to me."
"I can't."
"I am your sister!"
"And you have not acted like my sister in years, Bellatrix!" Narcissa screamed. Her nostrils were flaring, the fury was naked and unbanked in her eyes.
"He needs those memories. If I get them from you, he will be mine. He will love me, want me."
"Can't you see, Bella, he doesn't love you. He doesn't love anyone."
Bellatrix was too far gone in her dreams of being Voldemort's consort that her eyes blazed with unfocussed insanity. She began muttering to herself as she slid a silver blade from her inner robes. Narcissa stiffened. She recognized that blade. The cursed blade. The word Mudblood, flashed in her eyes. The puckered skin that ran with the blood of her daughter-in-law to be. Mudblood. Narcissa knew then that she was not important enough in Bellatrix's eyes to save, to go against the Dark Lord for. How she wished Severus hadn't left. He always chose her. He healed her, fed her, warmed her when he could. She understood he couldn't do more. He was the connection between the Dark Lord and the resistance. Someone needed to feed information when they could to the Order. Those that were left of it anyway.
Narcissa hissed as the first cut of the blade sank through her skin like butter. For a moment, she watched dispassionately as the droplets of blood beaded on the wound on her leg. Bellatrix had made her first letter, B. Tears streaked down Narcissa's face as she looked up at her sister. She knew what Bellatrix was carving. Blood traitor. She closed her eyes and locked away the four remaining unseen memories. Four was only minimally easier to hide than five but she knew this was going to be a torture like none other, delivered at the hands of a once beloved sister.
**HGHG**
Snape and Voldemort stood on the rise outside of the Malfoy properties and looked at the rippling wards that made it appear as if it were still the moldering remains of a fallen pureblooded family. A legion of Voldemort's followers continuously cast spells to bring down the newly erected wards.
Voldemort waited with blood retribution in his eyes. The bloody Malfoys were always the sneakiest of his followers, slithering out of punishment and landing on top of whatever political ladder that was currently in charge. He clenched his teeth. He wasn't sure exactly how it happened but he was not going to allow anything to jeopardize the world that he had built. The escape of Harry Potter was put on the back burner as a new more pressing issue arose. Abraxas Malfoy.
A/N: The contract page formatting is wrong. I will fix it as soon as I am able to figure it out. Lucius' name is supposed to be stricken.
