16 Months After Victory 2 Weeks Before the Wedding
Narcissa folded the Daily Prophet and placed it by her untouched plate.
"Does it hurt, darling?"
Lucius sighed as his dark gray eyes stared into her deep blues, his wife's expression smug.
"What is it now, Narcissa?"
She sat back in her chair and Lucius noted the slight haziness of her eyes. Her drinking was more frequent putting her in the mood to taunt.
"Your lord's hypocrisy?"
He sighed he didn't need this not now. He was still licking his wounds from the ministry appointment.
"The Dark Lord does as he pleases, it is not our job to question but to obey."
"I am not some Parliament hound that you have to sweet talk with politically correct answers."
Narcissa dropped her hand to the table her expression one of annoyance.
"Can you give me a real answer, Lucius?"
"Yes, when you ask a real question."
She picked up the paper again and stared at the picture studying it, "she's filling out quite nicely, poor girl, can you imagine having to spread your legs for that every night?"
Lucius dropped his fork, "please, Narcissa. Do you mind?" He hissed picking up the utensil and stabbing at his steak.
"Well, as a woman, I am curious. Despite his outward appearances, he is quite the lover, according to my sister. But on the upside, she is the most powerful woman in our world, a mudblood? Can you believe it?"
She paused dramatically bringing her hand to her forehead, "oh, please forgive me, I meant muggle, we are not allowed to use such…" she paused looking upward toward the ceiling before bringing her gaze to rest on her husband, "disparaging and hurtful language."
Narcissa rolled her eyes, "It's bad enough we have to acknowledge her as our Dark Lady when in her presence now we have to censor what we say."
She sighed once again placing the paper next to the blue gold etched charger, "Bella must be devastated. All those years wasted; her husband gave his life for the cause only for this to be the outcome."
"Your sister should have known better."
"All of you should have known better." She whispered under her breath. As she seemed to have remembered herself and flung the paper to the floor the small elf quickly snatched up the offending object.
Her comment wasn't lost on Lucius and he flinched. The truth always stung no matter who told it.
"Are we going to the Wedding of the Century?"
"Only real questions, Narcissa." He continued eating as his wife stared at him.
She rolled her eyes as she took her napkin and gently unfolded and placed it in her lap.
"Fine, how long are we staying?"
"The entire time darling."
"What should we wear, something festive I presume, to mark this joyous occasion." She stated sarcastically.
"That's the spirit," his tone was dull, and he kept his eyes down.
He had no witty comeback, no snarky remark, no real rebuttal nor justification for his lord's actions. The patriarch could only deduce there were none, and he was too tired to make excuses.
The two ate in tension laced silence.
He watched as the girl slowly made her way down the aisle. He wondered if she felt just as much of a hypocrite as he did standing there.
The dress flared at the waist, no doubt a choice to hide the small roundness of her belly. With his mask of indifference firmly in place, he fought against rolling his eyes as he watched his wife down her fourth fluke of champagne that evening. The woman had no sense of propriety.
He had no energy to argue later so he dismissed speaking about her behavior and focused on the ceremony.
He took in her petite frame and the slight roundness of her face, the early signs of motherhood. Standing behind the Dark Lord he had the rare opportunity to study her. She was so different now as a war harden woman, and the more he watched her he could understand his son's infatuation.
He may have even approved of a union between her and his son all those years ago if her blood status hadn't gotten in the way. Or maybe if it hadn't been Potter's mudblood would he have bent his beliefs had he known then what he knew now?
If she hadn't been who she was he wouldn't have felt guilty about his attraction to her. Her beauty, grace, and intelligence was undeniable. It was something he had longed for in his youth in a woman and had hoped he would have in Narcissa when she was presented as his bride to be. Although the young woman had an awkwardness about her Lucius found the bride to be downright charming.
As the night progressed, she seemed to warm up as she and the Dark Lord danced. If one didn't know the history, you would have never guessed that at one point the very man in her arms had wanted her head on a platter.
How have things changed? He thought as he ordered another scotch from the bar.
She was perfect except for her tainted blood and Lucius thought briefly to Narcissa's question from before.
Yes, it hurt.
He had never questioned the actions of his master but today he did. She was the very thing they had fought against, a union such as this was his greatest fear, the mingling of pure and inferior blood.
The Dark Lord had killed two of their best men for the very thing he, himself, was engaged.
Lucius shifted as he thought of the scars he bore in the name of his master and the cause. The countless galleons he put into the man's coffers.
His body began to tingle, and he quickly searched out his wife. They would need to offer their congratulations to the couple before the night ended.
It was past midnight when he and Narcissa arrived back to the manor. She had returned drunk not a surprise given that was how Narcissa spent most of her evenings. At least she had been too out of it to argue and had crawled into bed without so much as a glimpse in his direction.
Silently, he slipped from the room and down to his study. He needed the familiarity of this space the nooks of his ancestorial home. His study at least was one place where things were as they should be.
He sat on the small sofa and looked around at his many possessions. Most of them were small things a child's trinkets that his son, in his youth, had made for him.
Lucius sighed puzzled.
What was the Dark Lord's endgame? There was no Potter, no Dumbledore to taunt. He wasn't even sure if the Weasley boy was still alive. Bellatrix never mentioned him and he didn't care enough to ask.
He felt like a fool, the years of his son's life he missed due to being on missions and rallying support only to be relegated to a secretary. The coveted post of Minister of Magic had been given to an incompetent fool.
Present Day
Lucius hurled the glass of whiskey against the wall. He tended to break things when his thoughts drifted to the past and of her. This was his fourth whiskey of the evening. The owl delivery had been the catalyst to his temper and the drinking.
It was their wedding anniversary a day that had been marked as one of celebration. It was only second in importance to the date of their side being victorious. The invitation felt like an insult in his hand, and he could have sworn the parchment burned his flesh.
He ran his hand over the delicate script of her name and that of his lord's.
The Malfoy patriarch could refuse but that would guarantee sudden death, and he was no good to anyone especially Hermione if he were dead.
But Lucius was a man that was always seeking new opportunities and as of late redemption. He kept his ear to the ground listening for any Resistance gossip. Usually, there was chatter of some sort, but things had been radio silent for over two weeks now.
This silence unnerved him.
They had become more covert and were playing the game better than his side ever did. They were outwitting them at every turn and his side was quickly losing pace as well as followers.
The Dark Lord was losing it as well. Lucius could tell by the shadows under the man's eyes and the way the expensive silk hung loosely from his already thin frame. In addition to the twenty-eight death eaters lost they were down another three thanks to the Dark Lord's temper, and the arrogance, incompetence, and naivety of the recently deceased trio.
It was becoming clear something on his part would have to be done if he wanted to save himself and most importantly her. His next move would be only for her.
He stood summoning his cloak. It was after eight o'clock but want he wanted to find was best done after hours.
Lucius headed for the floo if he couldn't beat the Resistance joining them might not prove so bad.