The faint sound of footsteps echoed off the stone walls and Narcissa could just make out the hushed adoration of the house elves as they muttered their offering of praise to their owners. She tapped her long finger against the arm of the plush leather chair and sighed heavily, her black shift slipping down her arm as her shoulders lifted and dropped. She stared at the fireplace accusingly, her forehead wrinkling as the voice of the rather jovial sundial (she'd brought on some argumentative whim) filtered in through the open window and informed her just how long her son had been.
The Daily Prophet was balanced across her knees. She glanced at it and fought the overwhelming urge to roll her eyes. The plethora of drivel that had managed to make it into print was utterly confounding.
If only they knew she thought, shaking her head and resting her elbow on the arm of the chair. Her hand gently covered her mouth, holding in all the anger and frustration, just as she always had.
She was worried. More than that she was petrified.
Her husband had never been a brave man, she knew that as soon as her mother had thrown her into his waiting arms. Desperate to please his father and completely unable to do so, he had accepted their marriage without question, without anger, and more to the point without even meeting her. He shook and smiled on their wedding day and she had wondered if he knew at all, knew that they were binding their lives away.
There could have been other women, she'd always thought so, but there never was. Whether out of loyalty or as she suspected, a fear of his father's retribution, Lucius Malfoy had never even so much as glanced at another woman. His cowardly fidelity made her love him just a bit and a little bit more over the years. Now though, she faltered.
Once again her husband shook, once again he turned that pallid don't-hurt-me pale, once again he was the boy at the altar, giving his life to something he didn't fully understand. And she despised him somewhat for it.
The Dark Lord.
The Dark Lord. He went on and on about him in the early years. About the ideas, the genius, the purity promised and the power. Purity, it all seemed so important back then. The be all, the end all, the only thing in their magical lives to make sense. But then Draco had been born and she found she no longer cared.
The sound of the flames flaring in the large fireplace tugged her out of her thoughts. She glanced up in time to see her son step into the room, green embers glowing before snuffing out in a puff of smoke. Draco stormed past, tears painting his cheeks.
"Draco?" He carried on walking as if he hadn't heard her. "Draco, what's wrong?" She lifted her skirts and pushed herself out of her chair, following her son.
"Nothing." He replied sharply. He turned into his room and closed the door with a loud slam. She could hear crashing and shouting from the other side of the door. She lifted her hand, about to knock, but stopped. Draco wasn't the most open of boys as it was, preferring the confines of his own room and keeping most of his thoughts and feelings private. She doubted that he would tolerate her questioning him at that precise moment, so she turned on her heel and made her way back to the front room.
She paced the length of the room, shaking her head. As distant as Draco had always been, something was a little off. Her son was not big on displays of emotion, something he'd picked up from his father. To see Draco crying was a rare occurrence, one that made her incredibly worried.
She turned and paused, her husband and Severus walking into view, the dark-haired wizard nodding as her husband spoke quietly to him. The pair of them had been in a meeting that had lasted a good proportion of the day, making plans for their next steps to better serve their Lord. Ever since his shocking return, the Dark Lord himself had been strangely quiet, biding his time for something she couldn't see or understand. Lucius told her to trust, but she could see the nervous bob of his Adam's apple, and it told her all she needed to know; he was just as worried about the Dark Lord's silence as she was.
As she stepped closer she could make out the dark shadows beneath her husband's eyes, the slump of his shoulders. Though he feigned enthusiasm, her husband was so very tired.
"Severus," Narcissa interrupted, rushing forward, "might I have a word?" she asked, ignoring her husband's questioning glance. She hurried past the pair, fully expecting Severus to follow. Lucius' eyes widened at his wife's behaviour. Severus gave him a pointed look before turning to follow the witch.
Narcissa stepped into a small quiet study. Draco and his friends spent time in there, thinking they were being sly. She knew they sampled his father's firewhiskey, but she'd chosen to keep that little nugget of information to herself.
Severus closed the door looking at her down the length of his nose, his expression schooled and guarded. "And what, may I ask, is the meaning of the this?" Severus drooled, clasping his hands behind his back.
"Draco," Narcissa said simply, pursing her lips and looking out the window.
"The boy?" Severus' eyes widened.
"Yes," Narcissa turned and looked at him, resting her back against the windowsill. "My son, I want you to tutor him."
"I hardly think the boy is failing at school, in fact quite the opposite."
"This is not about school work, this is about him knowing what he is doing." Narcissa, walked across the room, stopping at a large bookshelf that covered one length of the wall. Severus' eyes darkened slightly as he watched her.
"The boy cannot perform magic outside of school, you know this." Narcissa laughed bitterly, glancing fleetingly at the wizard before turning back to the books.
"My husband is not the only one with contacts, Severus, consider the act of performing magic outside of school no longer an issue." Severus nodded once, allowing the information to sink in. He had not known for it to be possible, for such a ban to be lifted, then again, he wasn't aware that anyone had ever tried.
Narcissa chewed her bottom lip furiously, she knew her next words had to be chosen carefully.
"With the Dark Lord returned, Draco will be...Draco will be at risk.' She spun around quickly, taking a deep breath. "I want you to make sure he is prepared... for anything."
"It is impossible to ensure he is that prepared," Severus said with a smirk, looking at her pointedly as he enunciated each word slowly.
"Well, the important things then; shielding spells, hexes, charms. Anything you think is important." Severus nodded once, his face. "And one more thing."
"And what might that be?" He drawled.
"Occlumency." Severus' eyes widened slightly, looking the most shocked Narcissa had ever seen.
"Occlumency?" He muttered, "what secret could the boy possibly be hiding that would interest anyone?"
"I don't.." she paused, looking down at the patterned carpet she'd insisted she'd liked not so long ago. She sighed and met Severus' level gaze. "I have my suspicions, he's been distant of late, more secretive," Snape smirked slightly.
"He is a teenage boy, is he not?" Narcissa gave the dark-haired wizard a withering glance.
"I know my son, Severus, and something is...something is amiss."
"And you would like me to find out what exactly that is?" Narcissa's eyes widened.
"No, no, Merlin no. Just please,' she stepped forward imploring him, "please teach him all he needs to know. He needs to be safe. I will not have….I would not have my son controlled against his will, his darkest secrets laid bare. I am his mother after all"
"There may be secrets that the Dark Lord himself would be interested in. To keep such information..private, would be in direct defiance of his lordship." Narcissa stiffened slightly, before raising her chin in defiance. She would not be scared, this was for her son, and nothing could stop her from seeing it through to the end.
"Then so be it."
Severus was silent for a while as if mulling the proposition over. Narcissa had no idea whether he would agree or not, certain that disobeying the Dark Lord wasn't something Severus would easily partake in.
"Very well, I will train the boy. He should be ready tomorrow evening." He quickly turned, black robes fluttering slightly behind him.
Narcissa felt her knees threaten to buckle beneath her with relief, so she lowered herself into a chair.
"And what was that in aid of." Lucius asked curiously, slipping into the room quietly.
"That was in aid of our son. If you insist on putting him in danger then I insist on making sure he can protect himself." Lucius drew back at his wife's sharp tone, eyes narrowing slightly.
"The Dark Lord is not a threat, he will once again restore order to this chaos. Achieve everything we have ever dreamed of."
"You dreamed of." Narcissa spat, standing and turning away from her husband. She shivered as she felt his cold gaze upon her.
"You dreamed of it once." His voice was closer, hands holding the tops of her arms in what seemed like a comforting gesture, but his fingertips pressed to harshly into her skin to be anything but a warning.
"We have other responsibilities now, to our son, to his safety." Narcissa turned, searching the cold blue eyes of her husband, for any sign of understanding.
"The Dark Lord will keep him safe." Narcissa ripped herself away from him.
"You cannot believe that." She pursed her lips in anger when he said nothing. "You think that he has just forgiven you for your disloyalty to him. You denied him, Lucius, denied everything you believed in. You think he will welcome you with open arms?"
"DO NOT SPEAK…' Lucius paused taking a deep breath, 'do not speak of what you don't understand. The Dark Lord will be merciful." Narcissa wasn't fooled, she could hear the shake in his voice every time he spoke of the Dark Lord, the way his eyes flitted around the room in fear as if Voldemort himself were listening in on the conversation.
"I am going to check on our son." she walked away, her skirts bunched in her hands.
"He will make things right Cissy." Narcissa paused at the weary sound of her husband's voice. Slowly she turned towards him, her anger softening as she saw how tired he looked, how utterly fearful he was of history repeating itself.
"Who are you trying to convince?" Her question made his shoulders slump.
"We have to do this, we have to obe..." He covered his mouth and Narcissa rushed forward to comfort him.
Her fingers threaded through his golden hair as he laid his head on her shoulder.
"He will kill us if we don't obey." He mumbled, his breath sending goosebumps along her skin as his warm breath ghosted her neck "Someone has to make this world right." Slowly Lucius lifted his head, all the worry, doubt and fear falling behind his cool mask of indifference. "Someone has to make it right." He repeated with a nod, leaving her in the study, her hand on her chest feeling the race of her heart.
The small dragon figurine smashed against the wall, the pieces glistening as they showered the floor. The tiny unicorn that had been peering into the pages of a large tome, whinnied in fright clopping for cover as fast as its little legs would carry it.
"AHHHHHH," Draco screamed, running his fingers through his blonde hair, grasping at pieces and tugging on them pitifully. "Stupid, stupid…" His head fell back against the door, letting out shaking breaths as he thought of her. He winced as his brain once again took him tumbling into the memory; her lips, the softness, the realness of it all. Then it smacked him around the face with her rejection. With a sob, he slid down the oak door. He hadn't expected her rejection to hurt that much, he was a pureblood after all he should have denied her.
"Stupid." He glanced up, noticing the shaking backside of the small unicorn Hermione had given him, sighing he climbed to his feet wiping the tears from his cheeks. "Hey...hey, it's okay." He muttered, pulling the creature from its hiding place, allowing a small smile to ghost his lips as it burrowed into his hand, its body still shaking.
"What in Merlin's name is wrong with me?" He asked it, bringing his hands closer to his face. The unicorn slowly extricated itself and looked up at Draco, snorting moodily.
He knew what was wrong with him, he'd known for a long time he just hadn't wanted to admit it to himself or to anyone. The tiniest part of him had hoped that kissing Granger would get it all out of his system. One atrocious kiss later and she would be little Miss Know-it-all and he would be throwing insults at her bushy hair, and his infatuation could be a little hiccup buried in the past. But by Salazar, it hadn't happened that way, not even close.
He placed the unicorn back on his desk, and slumped into his seat. He needed help, serious help. He groaned as he realised what he had to do. Reluctantly he took some parchment from the pile next to him. His hands shook as he took his quill and dipped it gently in the ink pot. The small unicorn whinnied and galloped towards it, shoving its little head into the pot with delight. Draco started the letter, cringing as he spelled out Pansy's name at the top of the paper.
Get your witchy butt here as soon as possible.
He stared at the short letter for some time wondering whether it was a good idea to get Pansy involved. She was the only one out of his friends who wouldn't simply laugh in his face and tell him that feelings were for Hufflepuffs. Well, she would do all of those things, but then she would most definitely have a plan, have something up her sleeve to help him forget the stuck-up Gryffindor and move on with his life.
"Draco." He froze as he heard his mother's voice coming from the other side of the door.
"Go away." He ground out, the last person he wanted to talk to was his mother.
"Draco, I need to speak with you." With a huff, he lifted himself out of his chair and moved to open the door for his mother. She stared at him for some time without speaking, noting the tear tracks down her sons' cheeks.
"We need to talk." Draco rolled his eyes but stepped to the side so his mother could enter his room. He lay back on his bed, his arms across his eyes. His mother relayed the news of his father, of the Dark Lord, of his lessons with Snape, and a stone settled in his gut. It sickened him and made him want to scream again.
He kept quiet, not answering his mother when she asked him if he was okay, not really hearing her as she left the room. All he could hear was Granger's voice asking him what the kiss meant, asking him what it was all about. He almost wished he was back in that room, none the wiser to the approaching danger; just a boy liking a girl he really shouldn't and melting into a mess of hopelessness when she didn't like him back. He thought maybe he could cope with all of that, at least he could pretend to cope with it.
He stood slowly, gently calling a house elf. The creature winked into existence and he placed the letter in its small hands.
"Make sure this gets sent right away." The house elf nodded and muttered it's affirmations and adorations but Draco ignored it. He hoped that whatever plan Pansy came up with it would work because he needed it to, desperately.