Posted: 11/26/15
Beta: the artful scribbler
An Object of Ridicule and Solidarity
20th June, 1998
Jane was the quintessential Muggle. Her every word and action served to solidify the Malfoys' long-held beliefs that non-magical people are closer to primate than human. It would have been quite gratifying, if it had not been so bloody annoying.
Once the Dark Lord told them they had to let her out of the room, their troubles were magnified tenfold. Jane was sly. Face-to-face she was fine; she was polite, spoke to all of them respectfully - albeit in a very sullen manner - she never disobeyed any direct orders that they saw fit to give her, and as long as they had their eyes on her she didn't get up to anything. But the second they turned their backs on her, she disappeared.
Most of the doors in their manor were not equipped with locks, as it had never seemed necessary - before. After all, they were perfectly capable of casting anti-intruder spells in the unlikely event that any room needed safeguarding. The main reason they put her in the purple room was because it was one of the few spare rooms in the east wing that did have a lock on the door. They did not even have a completely foolproof way to ensure she would not wander into the main or west wing of the manor. She never did though; whether this was because she had no curiosity about the rest of their house, or because of some animalistic sense of self-preservation, she never strayed that far from them. She did however thoroughly explore the third floor of the east wing.
It rankled Lucius and Narcissa unremittingly that at least once a day, but usually more often, they had to drop whatever they were doing to go search for her. With the help of their nosy voluble portraits, they would wander from room to room calling for her. "Poisson," they had taken to calling her - a snide allusion to her protuberant eyes and bloated mouth. To their amusement she had begun responding to it.
"We really ought to hang a bell around Its neck, for Merlin's sake!" Lucius groused, completely serious. And only the thought of their master's displeasure prevented him from carrying through with it.
Eventually they would find her, but they could never tell what she might be up to. Many times she would be in Draco's old nursery, which they had converted to a school-room when he was older. She might be sitting on the light beech wood floor looking through the brightly illustrated children books, or she might be playing with an old discarded toy, of which there were many. Sometimes they found her standing at the chalkboard, drawing childish pictures of flowers, butterflies, ponies, and kittens. As they had a surfeit of space, with at least ten rooms that were seldom used, just filled with costly, superfluous furniture and decorations, they often located her in one of these. Sometimes she would be going through the drawers of a bureau, sometimes she might be standing in front of a portrait, avidly listening to it while it berated her for being a mudblood, and once they finally found her curled up in the bottom of a wardrobe. Napping.
Each time, every day, they would scold her in the rudest language they could think of, which was quite rude. They would issue empty threats about locking her up again or sending her to bed without supper or giving her a long, hard spanking. Sometimes, out of sheer desperation, they might threaten to tell the Dark Lord about her misconduct. But it was all nonsense and she seemed to know this. The Dark Lord had not only forbidden them from locking her up, depriving her of nourishment, or physically hurting her in any capacity, even for the sake of discipline, they doubted he had ever once told her that she had to obey them.
Each time she was rebuked she would stand there with blank eyes and an infuriating, petulant pout on her red fish-lips. She would mutter "yes, ma'am" and "yes, sir," and if they demanded she promise not to do it again, she readily offered up the obligatory response - and then she would steal away again at the first available opportunity.
She also had a deplorable lack of personal hygiene. She would go for days without bathing, and when they could no longer stand the stink of her for one more hour, Narcissa would march her to her bathroom, fill the tub to the brim with near-scalding water - laced plentifully with redolent oils and bath salts - and argue with her until she agreed to wash.
"I's just 'avin' a baf!" Jane would yell, tears streaming down her face, as though passionately convinced she was being asked to do something utterly absurd.
"When did you last bathe, Poisson?" Narcissa would ask.
"Las' week!"
"Get in the bath this instant, you despicable troglodyte, or I'll have Lucius and Draco come in here, strip your clothes off, and throw you into the tub."
This was the threat she always had to resort to get compliance. It was not a valid one; Cissa would never put her husband or son through such a base ordeal, but it always managed to scare the barbarian into bathing. Thank Morgana.
Jane had a number of other filthy habits as well. They were the sort of things Narcissa had managed to break Draco of by the time he was five. She not only picked her nose, but they'd also witnessed her eating its contents; she used her sleeves in place of napkins; would belch loudly, especially at the dinner table; spilled food all over herself, the table, and the floor when she ate; frequently abandoned her cutlery altogether to pick at her meat and vegetables with her grimy fingers; she chewed her food with her mouth open and accompanied this unsavory display with loud smacking noises. But the worst of it all was when she polluted their breathing spaces with her flatulence.
Holy Hecate, how they hated her!
Although they were not allowed to punish her, every time they had to watch her repulsive manners they barraged her with insults and admonishments. Between the three Malfoys and Bellatrix, she must have been told at least thirty times a day that she was: gross, a mudblood, stupid, a mudblood, much too melanous to be allowed, a mudblood, a cripple, a mudblood, completely worthless, and, oh yes, a mudblood. Besides these generic abuses Narcissa, sometimes Lucius, and occasionally even Draco would try explaining to her about things like handkerchiefs, table manners, the appropriate times and places for releasing bodily gases, covering the mouth when one needed to cough or sneeze, and the importance of keeping oneself clean. It didn't do any good. It seemed Jane was as impervious to criticism as she was to magic.
She was constantly fidgeting and moving. She had an excess of energy.
"I's needin' fresh air and eserzize!" she would tell them, whenever Lucius or Narcissa asked her if she could possibly hold still for more than three seconds.
Finally, making sure they obtained the Dark Lord's permission, Narcissa managed to find a pair of boots that fit her, nominally, and they started taking her outside for a few hours each day.
Narcissa liked to spend a lot of time in her conservatory and greenhouse anyway. Draco enjoyed riding his broomstick around the expansive wood that edged the manor and surrounded their abundant property. Lucius had a favorite patch of shade under an elm tree where he liked to sit during mild afternoons while he read books and drank hard lemonade.
Jane would ramble all over the lush gardens, smelling the flowers and making herself little bouquets. She explored the woods, soaking her sleeves and bodice whilst trying to catch tiny fish from the streams, and she continuously got stuck up the same tree from which an extremely reluctant Draco always had to rescue her. Sometimes she would follow Narcissa around the greenhouse, humming softly while she watched her tend her magical plants. They must have seemed quite exotic to Jane and, when Narcissa allowed, she even helped with menial tasks.
Jane, unlike the Malfoys, grew more sun-baked each day. And though she ripped the delicate, expensive fabrics of her borrowed gowns while she played, and stained them terribly with dirt and grass, they saw it as an equitable exchange as she seemed less temperamental and restless when she was allowed to wander around the grounds.
On sultry afternoons and balmy evenings the Malfoys, with Jane ever in tow, often retreated to a pretty corner of the courtyard that had lovingly been christened "the Nook" by some quirky ancestor. The Nook was tucked up beside the cool porticos of the courtyard and the outer glass wall of the conservatory. It was adorned with a semi-circle fountain built into the wall of the manor and a raised flowerbed had been cut into the flagstones. An old willow flourished in the center, surrounded by an assortment of fragrant perennials, and this large tree provided them with ample shade in the cozy haven. Each successive mistress of Malfoy Manor had updated and improved upon this cherished corner of the courtyard. Cissa had found some tiered plant stands that complemented the table, benches and chairs, and these intricately wrought stands supported potted flowers and herbs. There were even a few seed dispensers that, combined with the fresh water of the fountain, managed to attract a wide assortment of birds. The Malfoys mostly read the paper or books, while Jane entertained herself in different ways - some less irritating than others. She would often take the box of chalk that Severus had brought for her and sit on the wide flat stones sketching her puerile pictures.
Although Narcissa would never own it, she secretly liked Jane's drawings; they weren't masterpieces by any standard, but they still managed to be…pleasing. She had to study them for a while before she could define what it was that made them so. They were usually whimsical scenes: bright blue skies filled with curly clouds and a vivid spiraling sun shining down on a green landscape, which Jane speckled with bright flowers, trees, butterflies, and little animals. Sometimes she would just draw a single over-sized subject, a flower usually or perhaps a butterfly. Whatever she sketched, they were deceptive in their simplicity. Naricssa noticed that the lines were exacted with clean consistency, and the shapes had a satisfying symmetry. Jane always added clever details, complex micro-designs, and endowed them with coordinated color schemes. Whenever Narcissa noticed that Jane had completed one, which usually took her a good hour, she would find an excuse to walk by it so she could get a peak at the newest unique creation. Once or twice she noticed Lucius and Draco standing beside them as well, furtively glancing at them. It made her feel better about her own shameful interest in the mudblood's drawings. If Bellatrix happened across one she would use her boots to smudge it into oblivion. And, as usual, Jane would cry. She cried all the time.
"The Dark Lord wants us to take Poisson to London next week," Lucius said, setting down his book and sipping some of his wine.
It was still a couple of hours until dusk and he and Narcissa were in the Nook enjoying some after dinner drinks. Jane was laying belly-down on the wide lip of the fountain, lazily chasing the slippery fish around, and Draco was out for another ride on his broom. Nobody cared what Bellatrix was doing.
"Where in London does he want us to take It?" Narcissa asked, having to restrain her excitement at the prospect of finally getting out of the manor.
"He has given me a list of people he wishes for Poisson to see, so we will be staying at the Leaky Cauldron for at least a few days. He is also having Nott meet us there, to help us watch It."
"Why does he want Nott to help us watch It?" Narcissa asked.
"I think it's to do with us being in London. If It tried running away from here - well, to use a figure of speech - it is doubtful It would be able to get far. In London It will have access to transportation and It may know other Muggles that can offer It shelter.
"After we have shown her most of the people on the list, Thicknesse is going to escort her around the Ministry for a day or two to see some members of the Wizengamot, and certain employees as well. Once Thicknesse is finished, we will bring It back here. He…" He hesitated for a moment and then said, "He wants us to buy Poisson some new clothes."
"What in the name of Circe is wrong with the ones It's wearing?"
Lucius shook his head a little and emitted a low noise of confused disgust from the back of his throat.
"Well they don't really fit well…for one thing. He also mentioned that they are old."
"Old?" she asked in disbelief, "Did you tell him how thoroughly It ruins every dress It wears?"
"Yes, Narcissa. He knows. He has asked me innumerable questions about Its behavior and habits. He has asked me what sort of food It prefers, and - and how It likes to entertain Itself. He even asked, apropos of nothing, whether I think It knows how to tell time. I told him I doubt It knows how to read the alphabet, let alone a clock. Next he will expect me to keep notes on how frequently It has a bowel movement," he muttered bitterly.
In truth, Lucius was a bit unsettled by how interested the Dark Lord seemed to be with Jane. It was like watching a manticore become enraptured with a baby bunny. If the bunny were bespectacled and frowsy, rather than fluffy and cute. But still…
"I told him all about Its impoverished knowledge of basic etiquette, and how the only part of Its anatomy that It bothers keeping clean are Its teeth."
Uncharacteristically, Jane did take care to brush her teeth - frequently.
"Too old," Narcissa repeated, utterly baffled. "Why does he even care about Its clothes?" Her question was mainly meant to be rhetorical, just a random offering to the warm evening air, but Lucius said, "He described them as antediluvian."
Lucius and Narcissa entertained their separate thoughts without speaking for a few minutes. Then something wonderful occurred to Cissa.
"If we are going to be in Diagon Alley… Do you think you and Draco should purchase some new wands?"
Looking a bit sad, Lucius shook his head and said, "He said specifically that Draco and I are not to purchase wands."
Cissa felt a hard lump form in the back of her throat, though she managed to keep her face completely composed, and she used some wine to swallow it down. When she was sure she could speak again, without any sign of emotion, she asked, "What does he expect us to tell people about It?"
Lucius sighed heavily at this conundrum and said, "I don't think he gives a damn what we say about It, as long as it is not the truth. And I have been racking my mind all day, trying to think of a plausible explanation for It, but I'm coming up empty."
Narcissa saw easily what was troubling Lucius and shared in his distress. The idea of toting that ignorant, vulgar, swarthy mudblood around the shops of Diagon Alley, with the chance of meeting up with some of their inquisitive contemporaries, was an uncomfortable one. People, respectable people, might want to know who Jane was and why the Malfoys had her.
"Well, we'll think of something, dear. You should not trouble yourself unnecessarily about it," she said. She placed her hand over his and gave it a gentle squeeze. He turned his hand over, and caressed her palm with his own for a moment.
He knew his wife was right. Whatever they said would seem odd, and by this point it hardly mattered. Everybody knew that they were deeply allied with the Dark Lord and that he was using their manor for his headquarters. There were not that many wealthy pure-blood families left in England, but in the past the Malfoys had been, through their diplomatic self-interest, on excellent terms with them all. Lucius and Narcissa had learned that while many of their coevals openly proclaimed their belief in the Dark Lord's principles, they did not consider wearing a mask and actually joining him to be a well-bred activity. Other than a few who were Death Eaters themselves, essentially all of their former acquaintances had kept their distance since Lucius was sent to Azkaban. The Malfoys were in nobody's good books these days.
It had actually been a dreadful disappointment to Narcissa when every one of her "friends" had cut her off after Lucius went to prison. Women she had known for years, most of whom were her old classmates - and all of them by varying degrees her relations - suddenly stopped owling her invitations for teas, suppers, card-playing dates, and Potion Parties. She had gone through her pregnancy with Draco at the same time as some of them, raised Draco with their children, spent holidays at their manors, and taken countless shopping trips to Paris with them. She had even come to regard a couple of them as substitute sisters in the absence of her own; what with one in prison and the other completely deranged.
The stigma she had suffered after Bella was tried and sentenced to Azkaban had been of short duration and quite mild. After all, Lucius had managed to convince the right people he had been Imperio'ed. It had been so embarrassing for him to pretend he had been overpowered by a spell of submission, but as it was the only available alternative to prison the choice had been a relatively easy one to make.
All of her friends knew that she and Bella had not been spending much time together prior to Bella's incarceration. To Narcissa's dismay, she'd had to stand by and watch as her sister grew more and more fanatical about the pure-blood agenda, gallivanting around in a mask instead of making a home for her husband and giving him a family. Narcissa often thought it was their middle-sister's perfidy that had driven Bella to her indecent extreme.
Narcissa turned away from these dark memories and came back to the more pleasant prospect of a journey to London. It was a shame that Lucius and Draco would not be able to procure new wands, but least they would have a small reprieve from their house-arrest.
She and Lucius spent a while discussing the people on the list the Dark Lord had given to Lucius.
"I think the Boothbys go to Lasandra's Tea Room every Wednesday, don't they? They used to anyway," Narcissa said.
"Do you think the Abbotts still attend the weekly potion demonstrations held at Botania's Brewery?" Lucius asked.
"Botania's does not hold those anymore," Cissa told him.
She saw Draco flying back from his ride and pointed him out to Lucius. He swiftly descended and made a graceful landing and dismount. Narcissa started to pour him a glass of iced pumpkin juice but he told her he would prefer the wine. Then he borrowed her wand and lit a cigarette.
Jane joined them at the table, so Narcissa gave her the glass of juice. "Fanks," she mumbled, ever polite.
They told Draco about the journey to London they would soon be taking. They were going to have to go by train. Muggle transportation was a necessary evil.
Unless, "Can you travel by Floo, Poisson?" Draco asked her.
She shook her head.
"You have tried it before, have you?" Lucius wanted to know. "With Dumbledore?"
The Malfoys were looking at her but she was leaning back in her cushioned seat, looking at the sky. Instead of speaking she simply nodded.
Bellatrix came out of the conservatory door at that point and sat down with them. She poured herself a glass of wine and began to study Jane with an expression akin to one she would have displayed were she looking at a steaming pile of dog droppings.
Jane noticed this and sat up, looking rather uncomfortable.
"We are going to London next week," Lucius told his sister-in-law with the air of one resigned to getting an unpleasant task out of the way.
"Where are we going?" Bella asked tonelessly.
"I am sorry. Allow me to clarify. Narcissa, Draco, and I are going to London next week. The Dark Lord is having us take Poisson here," he gestured to the dirty child seated across the table from him, "to Diagon Alley."
"I want to come, too, Lucius," Bellatrix said, sitting up a little. "I want to get a new wand as well."
"Well, Draco and I are not getting new wands," he related acrimoniously. "And you are not invited."
"Why doesn't He want me to go?" Bellatrix asked, obviously a bit hurt at being excluded, but mostly trying to cover this by acting indignant. Bella did not actually want to go to London and be separated from her precious master, but it upset her to feel that he no longer thought he could rely on her.
"Ask him yourself," Lucius replied.
He knew she wouldn't though, and that was why he felt comfortable lying. The Dark Lord had indicated to Lucius that he did not care whether Bellatrix accompanied them or not. Therefore, Lucius had gone ahead and made the decision that she should be left behind. He detested his sister-in-law almost as much as he detested Jane. She had belittled him mercilessly after he had been stripped of his wand; and from what Narcissa had implied, Bella had shown nothing but complete indifference about whether or not their son would live long enough to be reunited with Lucius, once the Dark Lord had ordered Draco to kill Dumbledore. The only pleasure he, or his wife and son, received from Bella these days was watching her make Jane miserable. He and his wife never really discussed Bella's shortcomings, as it was a very sensitive subject to Narcissa, but he could plainly see that his wife held little love for her irascible sister.
Having finished her pumpkin juice, Jane stood up and headed to the fountain once more. Bellatrix was watching her with a murderous gaze.
Suddenly a wasp swooped in front of Jane and she stopped and took a few steps back, clearly frightened of it. The Malfoys saw a wicked grin spread over Bella's face as she reached over and snatched Cissa's wand from where it was lying on the table. Casting a simple spell, Bella captured the little thing, and as though a string were connecting the insect to the tip of Cissa's wand, she started manipulating the wasp to dance around the child.
They all began to laugh while they watched Jane throw her arms over her head in transparent alarm; she made clumsy attempts to dodge it. Bella was in her element and she maneuvered it around quite maliciously, waving the insect, stinger side out, all around her head and face, no matter which way Jane turned.
Jane began to cry and call out for help. In her panic she did not seem to realize that Bella was actually her tormentor, not the wasp. This of course made it seem twice as funny to all of them.
Finally, probably a combination of her leg, her drooping gown and ill-fitting footwear, and her hysteria, Jane tumbled down to the flagstones. She managed to catch herself with her hands and so prevented her face from actually slapping against the hard rock. However, her glasses had been dislodged.
Suddenly, worried that Jane might be hurt too badly, Narcissa retrieved her wand from her sister's grasp and released the wasp, for Bellatrix did not realize the game may have slipped into a danger zone.
Jane pulled herself into a sitting position, tears and snot running unchecked, her lower lip aquiver. She pulled her skirt up and revealed a scraped and bloody knee.
Bellatrix began to laugh gleefully at this sight, but the Malfoys were not as amused by Jane's blood as she was. They jumped up and went to kneel by Jane's side.
"It's alright," Narcissa said, trying to soothe her. "It is only a small scratch, Poisson. Settle down now."
The Malfoys exchanged worried glances. What if she had realized that Bella was the one harassing her? What if she told the Dark Lord they had not helped her and showed him her little injury? As horrible as it might be, they were not positive if their master would see fit to torture them again over this nasty mudblood's cut. They were on pins and needles with him as it was.
"Perhaps you need some cake," Lucius offered tentatively when she continued to cry violently while examining her knee.
Tempting her with sweets didn't seem to make a difference. Lucius picked up her glasses and they all saw that there was a large crack over one of the lenses. Jane seemed to grow even more distraught by this sight.
He handed them to Narcissa and she swiftly repaired them. "There you are, Poisson. They are as good as new."
Jane put them back on her face but did not seem cheered in the least, nor anywhere closer to calming down.
"Let's go inside and clean you up," Narcissa said. And to Lucius and Draco she said, "Help her up."
Draco and Lucius each grabbed a small arm and easily brought her to feet. She kept her head hung however and continued her silly weeping.
"It's not that bad, is it?" Narcissa tried to reason with her. "There is no need to be upset over something so trivial. We will use those clever Muggle things that Severus brought for you."
"Then we can play a game if you like," offered Draco. He was terrified of being under the Cruciatus Curse again. "I have a lot of card and board games, Poisson."
Jane wiped her nose on her sleeve, sniffled again, and said in a small, hopeful way, "Can we's?"
Draco, irritated a bit that she had taken the bait, nodded stiffly and tried to smile. It had probably come off like a grimace. Oh, well. At least she was trying to stop crying now.
As they took Jane upstairs and pretended to help her clean and plaster her miniscule wound (for none of them would actually risk touching her blood) Narcissa thought that at least one good thing had come of Jane's being with them. She united them; gave them something to discuss, criticize, laugh at, and a reason to interact in new ways. It was a paltry sort of consolation, she knew. But, at this point, Narcissa would take whatever she could get.