The Malfoys, 1 Year After Victory
They had won.
What had they won exactly?
No one knew and Draco had given up asking. He was tired of the blank and sometimes hostile stares from dinner guests and the angry dismissal from his father. His mother always putting distance between herself and that night but she was better than his father. At least she'd listen.
She'd often offer words of hope that things would smooth out and all would be well with the world. He wondered whether she said those things for him or her self. She was always making excuses, trying to explain away any culpability on her part. If it wasn't so improper he would have told her otherwise.
He rolled over curling into the fetal position. Draco had fought this reoccurring battle with sleep and lost each time. He was beginning to lose more territory, the only casualty-his sanity. He sat up resting against the headboard.
The young blond reminisced on his youth and innocence. Often he found himself longing for before, for his freedom. With the Dark Lord's victory he had become more of a prisoner locked away to rot in his thoughts and unpleasant memories.
He ignored the tears rolling down his cheeks as he reached for the small potion on the nightstand. He had tried to go without it. Depending on the draught every night was not ideal and the longer one used the stronger the potion would need to be to have the same effect.
Draco drained the contents in one gulp.
As he waited for the drought to take effect he began to sob as he recalled Luna's pale body on the bed. The crisp white sheets crimson as if dyed. He clamped his eyes shut in an attempt to black out the image but it only made the images more vivid.
His senses went into overdrive and now he could smell charred flesh as the imagery morphed.
Initially, he had searched for them when he arrived at the castle. He had screamed for Potter. He hoped his classmate and rival had gained common sense and abandoned the notion of being the Chosen One. Draco could only watch in horror as Harry fell; dread overtook him and he could only stand looking on in horror.
The young man began to break out in sweat and he gripped the duvet. He remembered the dungeons, he remembered Cho and the way she had screamed for his help as he stood watching as McNair hacked away at her.
His stomach churned.
He released the covers bringing his left hand up as he mimicked Cho reaching for him. He screamed before blackness shrouded him and the memories stopped the stone walls and pools of blood on the floor morphed into nothing.
The drought had taken effect.
Narcissa sat up with a heavy sigh, "we have to do something about him," she rubbed her hands over her eyes.
Lucius turned from the window to look at her, "like what, Narcissa? I won't send him away if that's what you're suggesting."
She sighed, "no of course not; he needs some sort of help, he's obviously traumatized."
"And you aren't?" He asked matter of factly.
She rolled her eyes, "you're not, apparently." She replied in the same matter of fact tone.
He came and sat on the edge of the bed, "none of us walked away unscathed," he whispered reaching for her hand. She moved out of his reach.
Lucius looked away to hide his disappointment.
"Do I need to remind you Lucius that you're the reason we were apart of that slaughter fest. You are the one that sold our souls to the devil and without our permission might I add."
She rose from the bed and stood in front of him her arms crossed Lucius could see the unshed tears in her eyes his heart clenched at the sight.
"I'm so sorry, Narcissa. I thought…I don't know what I thought."
She closed her eyes shaking her head, "no, an 'I'm sorry' won't fix this Lucius, you're the reason for this," she hissed opening her eyes as she pointed at the wall toward Draco's room to emphasize the point.
"You did this to him," she whispered tears rolling down her cheeks, "to us." She let her arms fall to her side.
He stood anger rising within him.
"I did this to him?" He asked raising an eyebrow.
"If I recall I didn't hear any objections from you. 'Lucius you have my full support,' 'something needs to be done about them' you remember those words?"
She turned from him. He walked around and faced her determined not to shoulder all the blame.
"You were there every step of the way. You may not have cast a curse on his behalf but you are just as much to blame as I am. If you recall my dear, I wanted to cut the man off early on it was you that encouraged the continuance of such a liaison."
She placed her hands over her face before dropping them abruptly, "you won't put this on my shoulders! I won't allow you!"
"You will own up to your part Narcissa. While I was out there doing the Dark Lord's bidding you were here hosting balls and gathering supporters," he shouted.
Narcissa began to shake her hands balled into fists, "go to hell Lucius." She breathed out so low but it wasn't missed by her husband.
He sighed, "I'm already there dear."
"You need to go in the other room," she said through sobs.
He sighed again and nodded, "if you wish. I will check on Draco."
"No," she quickly wiped her eyes, "I'll look in on him. You get some rest you're supposed to meet with the Dark Lord in the morning; are you not?"
Lucius nodded and left their room.
He by passed the guest wing and decided to settle into his study.
The patriarch sat on the leather couch a glass of scotch clutched in his hand. This wasn't the first time he and his wife had had these tense and emotional conversations. They had envisioned a new world, but nothing like what the Dark Lord had unfolded before them.
The upcoming marriage to the mud blood had placed the nail in the coffin and Lucius had to keep himself for reeling at the announcement. His lips had curled at the glee in his master's eyes. Everything he had worked for and had given to the cause meant nothing. It was then that he realized the man had never been about the preservation of pure wizarding blood.
The only thing the dark wizard truly understood was power.
Lucius closed his eyes and leaned back into the sofa bringing the cool glass to his forehead even now he felt foolish like a naive school girl tricked into doing something dirty.
He'd make a trip to Severus for more sleeping draught. He would insist on a stronger dose.
Narcissa opened the door slowly.
She ensured her son was asleep before she entered the room. She didn't want to startle him if the draught was still taking effect.
She watched as he moaned tossing and turning. No doubt remembering that night. That night and the days that followed caused her a few sleepless nights as well. From the dark circles he tried to glamour away she knew her husband didn't sleep much either.
Narcissa sat in the chair next to his bed.
Lucius' words echoed.
She shared some of the blame.
No she didn't cast any spells or carry out any of the suicide missions but she was a supporter of the cause. She offered no opposition to the planned murders of children. At the time, she didn't care they were beneath her. They were invading her world, her way of life. Everywhere she turned the muggles and the half bloods were there. Aided by blood traitors like the Weasleys.
She frowned.
What followed their hollow victory was death, destruction, and the upheaval of their society. Their way of life would never be the same. Chaos was the end game for their bigotry and in that moment Narcissa hated all that she stood for. She hated herself for supporting Lucius and his blind naive support of a psychotic sociopath.
But hatred for her husband ran the deepest; she depised him most for being right. She did nothing but give her unwavering support and even offered a few ideas of her own. She was no better; she had been a death eater without a mark.
Tears continued to roll down her cheeks as she continued to watch her son thrash his sheets growing damp, clinging to his upper body.
Quickly she rose from the chair and left his room.
She couldn't bear to watch him suffer and she barely closed the door as a loud sob escaped her lips. The blonde witch clamped her hand over her mouth. The other was still around the door knob and she held onto it as her knees gave way as she crumbled to the floor leaning against the heavy oak door for support.
Narcissa
She sat in her private library and study, the bottle of gin half empty on the corner of the small writing desk. The Lady of the Manor wasn't above drinking from the source and quickly turned it up the dryness of the liquid coating her palette. She never enjoyed the taste of the clear fluid but she reveled in the fact that it got her to forget a lot faster than whiskey ever did.
Narcissa sat the bottle down with a dull thud and quickly brought her hand up to her mouth to stifle a cough.
It was near dawn and she had been unable to go to sleep and unwilling to return to her room. She didn't want to be there nor could she bear the guest wing not since that girl did what she did.
Narcissa brought her hand up to her eyes covering them as if to block out the unpleasantries of the day Luna took her life.
She couldn't shake the memory.
The sun was high in the sky streaming through the floor length windows of the sun room. Even then only months after the final battle was she trying to forget. Always searching for some reason to enjoy her side's triumph. She could not, it felt wrong and empty but this morning like many others she shook off the feelings of any guilt and continued to sip her tea.
The sudden appearance of her distressed house elf startled her and she dropped the saucer it bounced off her foot before shattering a few feet from her.
She stood gripping her wand ready to strike down the small creature before it quickly explained. The words came out so fast Narcissa leaned forward as if to better understand.
She could barely make out the words 'Luna' and 'Draco' before panic overcame her. She had warned her son to stay away from the girl. She was too much of a reminder and he was too fragile too entrapped in guilt.
Narcissa ran from the room and down the hall calling out to her son as cries of 'oh my God' rattled the portraits; she could distinguish it was coming from the guest wing and hurriedly went there.
She slowed as she approached hearing her son crying a coldness overcame her and she was filled with dread.
The door was slightly ajar and she pushed passed it to discover the horror within. On the bed was Luna her left hand down by her side the right draped over her belly. The scene could almost be described as ethereal if it hadn't been for the blood. It contrasted with the paleness of her skin the once life giving fluid had dyed the tips of her long blonde hair causing unflattering streaks to appear.
She could only stand there she was at a loss for words as the room began to spin her son and his need for comfort forgotten as she approached on wobbly legs. Slowly as if in a dream she reached out and touched the girl's face she withdrew her hand when she made contact with the cold flesh bringing her hand up to her mouth to muffle her scream.
She heard heavy footsteps approach and a man's voice. The tone left know doubt he was clearly annoyed at having been disrupted, "what in the world is all…" the question died on Lucius' lips as he looked at the girl.
Lucius stood gripped with horror before he realized there were two people needing him to take the lead. He went to Draco first grabbing his boy firmly by the shoulders and pulling him to his feet.
Draco stood shaking unable to tear his eyes away from Luna.
"This is my fault, I was mean to her. I didn't really mean those things that I said. It's my fault," he mumbled as Lucius tried his best to comfort him.
"Son, it's not your fault, she wasn't strong like us," he lightly touched Draco's face causing him to remove his focus from the bed to his father.
"Go to your room, go now."
Draco stared at his father before nodding he headed for the door and briefly hesitated in the doorway. He cast one last look at her before rushing from the room.
Lucius moved slowly toward his wife; she appeared to be frozen in place. Carefully, he placed his hands on her shoulders.
She gasped and turned to look at him, a whispered "Lucius" was all she could manage before she tore from his grasp and left the room leaving her husband alone to deal with it all.
Narcissa dropped her hands, she still remembered the aftermath.
Lucius had dealt with everything and promptly had the house elves remove her body. He had her taken to St. Mungos with instructions for her to be laid to rest in the Lovegood family crypt.
He entered his matrimonial bedchamber to find his wife still awake sitting on the edge of the bed her head in her hands.
He sighed as he approached her, "it's taken care of."
She looked up at him, "so, that's it. It's taken care of just like that?"
He didn't answer her. Instead he tossed his walking cane on the floor and began to shed his outer robes. She stood.
"Lucius is this it? Is this what you fought for?"
He sighed and licked his lips before continuing, "What Narcissa? What is it now?"
She rubbed her face, "don't tell me you're really that daft. This Lucius, killing children! Luna was barely fifteen!"
He began to walk away from her heading to the bath she ran in front cutting him off.
"No, you will answer me. That girl was a pureblood Lucius she was the last of her family and now she's dead. I thought the cause was for the continuation of pureblood lineage not the destruction of it."
"It is," he looked away unable to meet her eyes again, "or I thought it was."
"What does that mean?" She whispered confused.
"The preservation of pureblood society is no longer a priority per the Dark Lord's orders."
She stepped back looking smug, "wow, I'm not surprised, wasn't that the great messiah's campaign platform?" She asked mockingly.
Lucius rolled his eyes, "Narcissa go to bed you've been drinking, I can smell you from here." He stated disgusted; he knew of her late night drinking. That didn't bother him it was the fact she gave up trying to hide it.
"You've condemned us to hell Lucius." She began to openly weep. He moved toward her and she waved him off hurt prevalent in his eyes.
Narcissa shook herself she didn't want to go further into her memories; she was afraid there wasn't enough liquor in the cabinets for such a trip.
She downed the remaining contents and stood. The matriarch wobbled and fell back down in the chair the bottle slipped from her grasp and crashed to the floor. It was the sound that set the memories off and she could feel the castle rock as another spell hit blowing away ancient stone.
Narcissa gripped the arm rests to ground herself. Slowly she began to count to ten something she had learned in her youth to cope with her anxiety she nearly laughed when she remembered it was Lily Evans that actually taught her the technique.
She had been so nervous during the first flying lesson that she ran into the girls restroom hyperventilating when the muggleborn had come in to find her on all fours struggling to breathe. She had been in such distress that she had forgot the girl was a mud blood and had been relieved for the help.
She closed her eyes still counting and visualized the gardens in Paris; she became lost in the memory of their beauty.