"That foolish boy!" Lucius hisses, his fingers pale against the Daily Prophet as the paper crunches in his grip.
The owl had arrived too early, far before any reasonable wizarding family would be seated for breakfast. The wards around the Manor had rippled with the bird's flight. And while that sensation would have been expected at the beginning of that morning's meal, Lucius Malfoy had startled awake in the last few hours that they should have been sleeping, his arms tightening around Narcissa as she opened her eyes.
They are both still in their sleeping robes, the silken black fabric far too thin to defend from the chill that curls through Narcissa's heart. The image of the Dark Mark withers across the Prophet's emergency edition, shifting underneath her husband's fingers as he curses again.
"That foolish boy! What does this accomplish? The Ministry will be hounding all of us now!"
The Prophet crumples against the dining table as her husband tosses it aside. He doesn't even bother with his cane as he paces, his wrath masking the limp he's carried since the war.
Narcissa watches, the memory of the smoldering anger in Felix's dark eyes nearly as vivid as the scene before her. Both visions compete with a thought, half-formed but growing fast as devil's snare.
Something about Cantankerous Nott's demeanor after his wife's death had caused Theo to look at his father with an emotion akin to fear. Perhaps it was purposeful, the way Nott had withdrawn from his son. Or, perhaps, a Death Eater's mounting anger had terrified the poor boy.
"Perhaps," Narcissa says, her voice soft against the hurried footsteps of her husband, "it was a foolish old man." One who already had an heir, his glory days long behind him and his life ahead only a handful or so of years.
Her husband's silver eyes cut to her, his pacing halting in its tracks. Narcissa's unsaid words run through his thoughts until he frowns in contemplation.
"You know, I'm not sure which is worse. A foolish child damning himself, the last of his bloodline, to Azkaban. Or a former Death Eater who had claimed to be under the Imperious curse when he committed his distasteful deeds," Lucius sneers, his figure tall and imposing despite the soft robes he wears.
"I'd almost wish for the former, if it wasn't such a waste. As it is, if one Death Eater was lying about being…compelled into the Dark Lord's service, what of the rest of us? They'll question how many are truly wolves in sheep's clothing."
The Ministry already raids their homes as it is. Every time a new law is passed restricting the use of one 'Dark' item or another, a few auror's always come knocking. Pushing into their family's home as an excuse to strip another heirloom from the oldest of families.
Narcissa doubts that the Weasleys or Augusta Longbottom have to deal with such affronts.
"We'll be lucky if they don't come today," Narcissa concurs, "after they brought in Nott and Rosier to interrogate."
Even if it became apparent which one of them had killed the mudblood in his home, the auror's would still come, wishing to ensnare who they could. A Death Eater being so bold as to attack in the age following the Dark Lord's demise. What happens if others get the same idea? If they decide for themselves that the Ministry couldn't possibly find them if they started dealing with the muggles and muggleborn of Britain. There are simply too many towns and cities. Enough places out of the way enough for a wizard to apparate into the night before the aurors show up to put out whichever fires.
The smartest move would be for the Ministry to crush whatever rising sentiments they could now.
"Draco and Theodore seemed excited to explore the woodlands yesterday. I think that I'll take them over there this morning," Narcissa says, her voice deceptively light. "The children would enjoy taking lunch over there, an adventure among the old trees."
Unsaid is that the three of them wouldn't be anywhere near the house itself when the aurors do come sniffing about, leaving Lucius to field their attentions. Also, unspoken is that a trip to Diagon Alley is out of the question. The stares and whispers directed at a Death Eater's wife would alert the boys to there being something crucially wrong.
"Yes, that does sound like a wonderful idea." The tight upturn of Lucius's lips is as joyless as his eyes.
Their masks aren't quite into place yet. The ones they'll wear as they greet their son in an hour or so. The unconcerned parents of a pureblood boy who aren't counting down the moments until the aurors show. Desperately hoping that they'll be too busy arresting a fool to come before Draco finishes his breakfast. The boy chattering excitedly with Theodore while unaware of his father tensefully watching for the telltale sensation of people intruding past the wards.