Chapter Text
Malfoy Manor, 1992
As the door to Draco’s room shut, Narcissa slowly inhaled and quietly made her way down the hall to her second son’s room. A peek into his room showed a soft head of downy blond hair nestled amongst an array of pillows, and she couldn’t help but smile softly at the sight. Three years ago, it was Draco who had been snuggled amongst his blankets with no care in the world. But her boy had grown up and was already going into his second year at Hogwarts. Something in her chest tightened at that notion. She walked further down the hall to peer into Caelum’s room and huffed a quiet laugh at the sight of the almost-four-year-old sprawled haphazardly across his cot. It brought forth the hazy memory of a certain Black cousin she had last seen on the front page of a newspaper cackling maniacally. Shaking her head to evict the fuzzy image from her mind, Narcissa kept striding down the hall, passing empty room after empty room.
Candles lined the walls beside her, creating elegant shadows that danced across the empty space surrounding her. At such a late hour, the whole house was quiet, save for the soft padding of her footsteps and the gentle creaks of the aged wood infused with centuries of family magic. A lifetime ago, she had been just as her boys were. She’d lived in a sprawling estate where Black magic was imbued into every grain of matter that made up the house. She’d had two sisters, many cousins and at one point, many suitors.
She strode her way back to the terrace that her son had found her on and took a seat on the balcony's stone ledge. Pensively, she once again took to staring up at the stars, trying to find the constellations that meant most to her. And once again, she let her thoughts drift.
At thirty-five, Narcissa Malfoy knew that she had truly lived a life. By Wizarding years, she was still a young witch who was merely entering her prime. But there was already a weariness that beheld her whenever she was left to her own thoughts or whenever looked at her sons and wondered what their lives would be like when they grew up. Or whenever she pondered about whether her life would be any different if the Blacks and Malfoys hadn’t aligned with the Dark Lord during the Wizarding War. A voice in the recesses of her mind – an albeit distant one that she had forced herself to ignore time and time again – hissed at her icily. Narcissa, my daughter, thinking to such lengths is not an attractive trait. You must cease doing it. Immediately.
And she ignored it. Again. For she had stopped heeding her mother’s outdated and misogynistic remarks when she was thirteen after witnessing her beloved sister being blasted off their family tree. Druella Black, her mother, had been a character, for sure. She wasn’t a particularly cruel woman, nor was she a kind woman. She ran a tight ship and lived the life that had been laid out for her since birth. Grow up, marry well and birth children. She had been the prime cause for most of Narcissa’s sorrows, particularly when she hit her late teenage years, and the woman’s misogynistic perception of the world only made things significantly worse.
Being the youngest of three, Narcissa had always been doted upon. In that sense, she didn’t really blame Bellatrix, her eldest sister, for losing her mind. The favouritism was blatantly directed towards herself and her other sister, Andromeda. After all, Bellatrix had always been the rambunctious one. She had been difficult to control, and her parents loathed being unable to reel the girl in. Alongside that, the seven year age gap between her and Narcissa had always acted as a barrier of sorts that prevents the younger girl from even getting to know her older sister. And it obviously, did not help that Bellatrix loathed the younger girl, with all of her being.
Andromeda was another story, and the mere thought of her name poked a raw wound that still sat unhealed in her heart. Where Bellatrix had been gritty and cruel, Andromeda had been compassionate and soft-spoken. The two shared so many physical attributes that one could have passed for the other. But Andromeda’s face bore a tenderness that Bellatrix’s never had. Where Bellatrix’s grey eyes were sharp like needlepoints and assessed you with the gaze of a predator, Andromeda’s grey eyes were comforting, and brought warmth to the recipient of her gaze. Narcissa didn’t miss her eldest sister. At all. She had never loved her in the first place, but after Bellatrix had turned Andromeda in for dallying with a muggleborn Narcissa knew that any chance of even accepting the fact that the woman was her sister was gone.
There were only two things she had ever felt towards that woman. Contempt, in her youth, and relief, in her adulthood. For Bellatrix had been the first to marry in their House, but after numerous (alleged) attempts to bear children, they had found that she was barren. And as cruel as it made her sound, Narcissa was all the more relieved. Any child of her sister would have been subjected to a cruel, cruel life. A life not unlike that of Theodore Nott who wilted under the iron fist of his father. The abuse the boy experienced was to an extremity that she had only witnessed once in her life, and it physically hurt to even think that a child just like her own son was experiencing a life equivalent to hell itself.
She could relate to Theo on numerous levels. Abuse was a badly-kept secret in House Black. Their social influence and status in elite Wizarding society was the only thing hindering an intervention to such practices. After Andromeda had fled, and Bellatrix had started galivanting with the Dark Lord, Narcissa had been left all alone at home. It had made her the prime target for her mother’s machinations, and as a result, it had left her to be the sole victim of the emotional abuse that the woman seemed to enjoy inflicting. The only thing that had helped her to persevere through those tough times were the parting words her sister, Andromeda, had given whilst she hastily packed up her belongings. Unbidden memories, fragments of a past life she had lived in her youth slowly drifted into the forefront of her consciousness. They were so raw, so palpable that she could swear she could still feel every suffocating swallow, every clench of her fist, and every tear she had shed on the fateful day her sister had left.
***
Black Manor, 1972
It had happened just shy of a week before her fourteenth birthday. Narcissa had been painstakingly reworking the embroidery piece her mother had ordered her to complete. It held no importance to her, save for being another thing her mother could show off about her to score a suitable match for her. At thirteen, Narcissa had exhibited the beginnings of an inexplicably stunning countenance. That, paired with her sharp wit and keen eye for detail had already made her an exceptionally sought-after girl amongst the pureblooded boys of their society. At thirteen, she hadn’t truly noticed it, though in retrospection it had been truly obvious how the gaze of most pureblooded Slytherins turned to her wherever she went. She’d started to receive all sorts of gifts, ranging from outrageously large bouquets to ridiculously gaudy jewellery that had most definitely been trapped in some vault since the twelfth century.
And it had been during that very week when she had heard of a possible marriage contract being drawn up between House Black and House Lestrange. Having heard her parents discussing it following breakfast, she had fled as fast as possible to her sunroom and picked up the first thing on hand…which happened to be that Merlin-forsaken embroidery piece her mother had been pestering her about. The sheer horror of being tied to the youngest Lestrange brother – that would once again place her in close quarters with Bellatrix - made her stomach roil, and she had forced herself to keep her hands steady and get the damned needlework finished.
She’d been so consumed in her work that she barely heard the screaming match happening a few doors away until a humongous thud sounded, followed by a shriek that she just knew belonged to her mother. Narcissa leapt out of her seat and flung the fabric away in a hurry as she ran into the hallway, her mind flurrying with all the possible reasons for such a loud sound. Maybe Bellatrix came back and did something again, she reasoned, as she finally made it to the source of the sound – her father’s study. And upon what she heard, she felt herself freeze.
“I forbid you from seeing that boy”, hissed her father, and she could already envision the fury in his eyes from the mere cadence of his words. “I-”
“And I forbid you to forbid me”, hissed another voice, and it took a moment for Narcissa to process that it wasn’t Bellatrix who was in the room. It was Andromeda. She felt the warmth drain from her face. A boy. It was the muggleborn she had seen her sister hanging around with in Hogwarts. How could they have found out? And it clicked. There was only one person who still had contacts in Hogwarts, and it was Bellatrix.
She stood there, shoulders tense, as her eyes bore into the door of her father’s study. Never in her life had she heard Andromeda raise her voice. And never in her life had she heard Andromeda speak with such vehemence.
“You little chit”, her mother’s voice sounded, and the sharp clap of an unmistakable slap carried through the door. Narcissa flinched.
“I love him. And I will not. Leave. Him”, Andromeda had hissed, before releasing a yelp that accompanied another sharp crack of a slap.
“What have I raised, hmmm? A little bloodtraitor”, Druella said derisively, and a scuffle could be heard, followed by an unmistakable shriek from her sister.
Oh, Andy.
All of a sudden, all Narcissa wanted to do was sit down and curl up against the wall. She wanted to be as small as possible, because she was not hearing this. With each slap, and each shriek of her sister, she forced herself to stand there outside the study. She forced herself to listen to every sound, to document each and every word that was uttered in that room. And she forced herself to keep her eyes open, and let every single tear fall at every pained sound her sister made.
“CHOOSE A SIDE, YOU STUPID GIRL. CHOOSE, YOU LITTLE BLOODTRAITOR CHIT. YOU FILTHY LITTLE CUNT-”
She could hear Andromeda sobbing and felt something sharp prod her heart. It felt like thousands of her embroidery needles were being forced into her heart at the same time.
“I CHOOSE TO GET AWAY FROM THIS GODFORSAKEN HOUSE AND TO NEVER. SEE. YOU. AGAIN”, Andromeda finally shrieked, and the silence that ensued was the worst Narcissa had ever heard.
It seemed to go on for hours. That was, until her father spoke.
“Then go”, he had uttered. Two syllables.
A raw scream tore through the room, and Narcissa just had to turn around and flee. She ahstily locked herself in a nearby empty room, and curled up on the floor, her face in her hands as her body shook, and shook, and shook. She tried to eviscerate all the ugly images her mind was conjuring. Why was Andy screaming? Is she bleeding? Her heart was beating so fast and she couldn’t breath and her hands were shaking so hard-
Footsteps rushed past the room, and Narcissa forced herself to sit still, clasping her shaking hands together tightly. Get yourself together, she told herself. She slowly stood and took a deep breath before opening the door. After making sure the hallway was empty, she rushed to Andromeda’s quarters. Uncaring of the loud thudding of her footsteps and how unladylike she looked, she burst through the doors of her sister’s room and stumbled to a stop as she took in the sight before her.
Andromeda was shaking uncontrollably as she grasped at random clothes, books, and ornaments that had decorated her room for the seventeen years she’d lived there.
“Narcissa, what are you doing here?”, she had asked without looking up, seemingly unbothered by her quivering body.
To Narcissa, the sight before her had looked like a nightmare that had been brought to life.
“Andy, what happened?”, she had meekly asked as she fought to hide the slight shake in her voice.
Her sister didn’t respond, merely continuing to pack her things into a bag. She cursed as another strong quiver shot through her arms, forcing her to drop what she was holding.
“Andy”, she said again, her voice coming out much stronger than she expected.
Her sister looked up, and grey eyes met her own.
“I’m leaving, Cissy”, her sister finally said.
“Leaving? Then when will you be-”
“I’m leaving for good, Narcissa”
Quite suddenly, it felt like all the air was being squeezed out of her lungs.
“What?”
“I’m leaving”, Andromeda merely repeated and then resumed packing her things. “As of ten minutes ago, I am no longer a Black”
No longer a Black?
“Cissy, do you need something?”, Andromeda asked exasperatedly. “I need to pack as fast as possible, and you standing there doing nothing is-”
“Leaving”, Narcissa breathed, her sister’s words finally clicking.
Andromeda sighed and violently shoved another book into her bag. “I choose Ted. I choose him over this godforsaken and disgusting life I have lived in this fucking prejudiced household”
Each word seemed to act as a slap, and Narcissa reeled backwards. She stumbled and tripped over the edge of the ornate rug that decorated the hardwood floor of the room and tumbled to the floor with a surprised grunt. She let herself fall and sat there sprawled across the rug as she stared unseeingly at a random spot on the floor. She barely processed the sound of her sister sighing again, and didn’t blink as she felt gentle hands grasp her arms. The comforting scent of her older sister enveloped her as the girl pulled her into a tight hug.
And that was when the tears began. Shoulders shaking, and lungs quivering, Narcissa sobbed. Hard. Every breath seemed to be torn out of her aching throat, and her face had begun to feel incredibly dry. Yet with every breath another sob was ripped from her. She couldn’t stop. Oh, she couldn’t stop. Andromeda had gently begun rubbing circles on her back as her sobs turned into hiccups. Distantly, Narcissa thought about how ironic the situation was. Here she was, crying on the very sister who was leaving behind her life as she knew it.
“Don’t go”, she whispered against the girl’s shoulder, and she felt Andromeda exhale.
“You know I can’t do that, Cissy”
Narcissa gritted her teeth and forced herself to pull away. She gracelessly stood up and looked down at her sister who was still kneeling on the floor, grey eyes filled with anguish.
“Will I ever see you again?”, she asked softly, breathing deeply to refrain from hiccupping her way through her question.
Andromeda smiled softly, her eyes glassy. “I believe that someday, we will meet again”
The despondence in her voice made the tragedy of the situation just that much palpable, and Narcissa was suddenly filled with the urge to crumple to the floor and scream.
“I will see you again”, Narcissa corrected, before nodding resolutely and turning to the messy bed full of belongings her sister was packing.
“No, you will not see me again. Not of your own accord, at least”, Andromeda said as she scrambled onto her feet and made her way to the bed. “It won’t be safe for you”
“I determine what’s safe for me, not you, Andy”
“Society dictates what you can and cannot do, Cissy. Not you”, said the older girl as she resumed haphazardly throwing books and other goods into the deceptively small bag.
Narcissa viciously threw a set of robes into the bag. “I’m a Black, Andy, everyone will listen to me-”
“Are you even listening?”, Andromeda suddenly hissed. Narcissa flinched at the harsh sound and ceased her agitated movements. “You are thirteen. There is nothing you can do. You cannot come and find me. Not after this. You need to go and live your life, Cissy. There is no other choice”
“But how will I know if you’re okay?”, she asked, finally turning her gaze upward to meet her sister’s. “How will I be able to know if you get married? Or if you’re going to have a baby? Or-or how can I tell you about my day? My graduation? My-my-”
“You can’t”, Andy said, her voice breaking as the second syllable left her lips. “You can’t, Cissy. I could not live with myself if my actions cause you any more harm than they already will”
“Harm? What harm?”
“Narcissa”, Andy said, her tone suddenly so serious, so chilling, that if she hadn’t been lucid she may as well have been speaking to her mother. “There was a betrothal contract between myself and Lucius Malfoy. I can’t marry a man I don’t love, and with Bellatrix going and telling on my affairs like this to mother and father, and me cavorting with a muggleborn, I have dishonoured his House. To bring back honour to House Malfoy, mother and father are arranging your marriage to him as we speak”
Marriage? But I’m not even fourteen.
“What?”, she asked, her voice so, so small. “Marriage? Andy, I’m not even fourteen-”
“It’ll likely be after you finish school, so you will have some time to get to know him. I’ve spoken to him a couple of times, and he is only three years your senior, so this upcoming year you should go and speak to him-”
“I-I don’t want to speak to him, Andy, I want you to be safe-”
“Me being safe does not guarantee your safety”, Andromeda shouted as tears carved glistening pathways down her sculpted cheeks. “I am leaving you with Bellatrix, the girl who yanked your hair so hard when you were five, that she tore a clump straight off because she was jealous. I am leaving you with Mother, who will without a doubt make your life a living hell. And I am leaving you here with Father, who will support any decision Mother will make. I refuse to make your life harder than it will be. Lucius Malfoy is a much better option than the Rabastan Lestrange, and you know that. And no, do not act surprised, I know you were listening”
Narcissa was silent. There was no use fighting, not when she didn’t know if she would even see her sister again. She watched as Andy hastily shut the bag and cast a featherlight charm, before grasping a cloak and briskly heading to the door.
“I need to go, now, Cissy”, she said, and grabbed Narcissa’s shoulders. “There are two things I want you to do. First of all - only do this when I’m gone – go to the first floorboard to the right of my bed. It’s the one that’s nearest to the wall, you’ll know it when you see it. Take it off and you’ll find some things inside”
Narcissa nodded, committing every word to memory as she grasped her sister’s hands.
“And second of all, listen to me”, Andromeda continued. She peered into the younger girl’s eyes. “You have a strong, kind heart, and a keen mind. No matter what is thrown your way, I want you to trust your instincts. Your compassion and wit are at your arsenal. You are marvellous, my sister, and although I may not be a Black by name anymore, you are my sister through and through. I love you”
Narcissa swallowed the lump in her throat. She wouldn’t cry. Not again. Suddenly struck by a thought, she reached up and yanked at her updo. The elves had twined her golden locks around her favourite brooch. Ever since she’d received it on her eleventh birthday, she had worn it religiously. Finally managing to undo the various braids and coils, she ripped it out of her hair and thrust it into her sister’s hand. Forcing her to wrap her fingers around it, Narcissa held her hand.
“Take this, Andy, and don’t forget me”
Her sister huffed a watery laugh. “I could never forget you, Cissy. You’re far too special”
And with that, Andromeda whipped around and rushed down the hallway. Narcissa ran to her balcony, only to see the tall, willowy figure that was her sister stop at the outskirts of their home and turn. A slender hand blew a kiss, and all Narcissa could do was stare as Andromeda turned on her heel and vanished into thin air.
***
Malfoy Manor, 1992
A large hand grazed her shoulder, and Narcissa whipped around at the sensation, only to see that it was her husband. It didn’t take long for her to note the weariness that seemed to have settled onto his being. His silver eyes were wrought with stress, and there were dark circles already forming beneath them. The elegant bones of his cheekbones were more prominent than usual, and she couldn’t help but reach up and trace them with her fingertips.
“What are you doing out here at such a late hour?”, he asked, his voice low as he gazed at her speculatively.
She hummed before responding. “Merely thinking, dearest”
“I have been too. Thinking, that is”, he said after a moment of silence. “About what you said-”
“I’ve been meaning to-”
They both stopped talking abruptly, and Narcissa couldn’t help but expel a small giggle at the befuddled look on her husband’s face. It was almost like they were young again, having just got married and having no clue how to talk to each other.
“You go first”, he said, and she nodded.
“I just wanted to check with you, Lucius…you do understand what I said earlier, don’t you?”, she asked, and glanced up at his face briefly.
He was silent. Silent for long enough that Narcissa just knew that he did not like where this conversation was going.
He opened his mouth to speak but she raised an elegant hand. “No, listen to me, Lucius. Do you understand that you have changed?”
He stared at her impassively, his face the perfect aristocratic mask that had replaced the man she married.
“Do you understand…or even see that you are a different man? A man so completely different to who I married? With whom I had three children?”, she asked again, this time more urgently.
“Cissa”, he sighed and went to move away. She grabbed his forearm and yanked him back towards her.
“I am your wife, Lucius. I am the mother of your children, and the Lady of your House. You don’t need to keep that gods-damned mask up around me”, she said, her brows furrowed with frustration. “What are you hiding? Tell me. Tell me, because Draco, our own son, has made it known that he thinks his father doesn’t love him anymore. Your son, thinks that you’re a cruel man”
Her husband pursed his lips and turned his eyes upwards in annoyance before glaring at her.
“Narcissa, there is nothing. I am hiding nothing, and I am merely a ‘changed man’, like you said”, he responded sagely, and she couldn’t help but snort in disdain.
“You see, Lucius, I don’t believe that”, she said firmly, and continued derisively. “Years ago, you went to Nott Manor. Remember that day? Theo ran to our home, and within seconds you vanished through the Floo and re-emerged a ‘changed man’”
She watched him nod slowly, gaze carefully trained on her face.
“What did you see that day? What made you become so cold? Because from that day on the Lucius Malfoy I married vanished and in his place was you”, she gestured to his being with disdain. “You. Did you know, that you scarcely come home now? You go to the Merlin-forsaken ministry which we both know is already as corrupt as it is and stay there for hours. I am a formidable and independent woman, nothing like Priscilla Parkinson and her ditzy person. I am used to being alone, and I am used to hiding my yearning for the people I love. But you, my husband, were supposed to stand by me for the rest of my life. You promised that to me when you married me, and you promised that to me when I sat there, sobbing because my own sister, who’d been banished for loving, wasn’t allowed into my wedding. Instead, for the last four years I have been essentially alone in his household, save for our children who seem to have forgotten their father exists. And-and what is this prejudiced bullshit that you have been spouting to Draco? Don’t think I don’t know who you associate with, because you full well know I don’t approve of the company you keep”
She paused for a moment, chest heaving from her tirade. She pursed her lips before continuing, her voice now quiet. “Just…tell me. What happened, that day?”
Her husband stared at her apprehensively. Brows pinched and lips pursed, he looked at her and she stared right back. He sighed and looked away.
“Cissa”, he breathed and shut his eyes. “I cannot tell you”
“Why”, she demanded. “Tell my why, Lucius, or so help-”
“Because it is too dangerous”, her husband hissed, and for a moment Narcissa could make out real, true fear in her husband’s eyes. And the mere sight of it sent chills down her spine.
“Lucius”, she said, her tone far softer now. “I am a powerful Occlumens. Whatever you tell me will be safe in the confines of my mind”
“I know that, dearest, but…this information is enough to warrant torture, just to acquire it”, he said, and a muscle in his jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth.
“Danger lurks in all corners of the world, Lucius”, she said. She reached up to touch his face as she softly continued to speak. “Tell me”
He sighed heavily and leaned next to her against the stone ledge she had been sitting on. The faint rays of sunlight could be made out just above the horizon. It seemed that a Pepper Up potion would be needed with breakfast.
“It is to do with the Dark Lord”, he said slowly. “Thoros is concocting some sort of scheme. When I stepped through the Floo it was almost as if a wave of Dark magic, darker than I have ever experienced, slammed into me”
Narcissa stared at him, eyes wide with apprehension, as he continued.
“And when I found him, he was hunched over a cauldron and muttering something about incompetent children, and he was scribbling in this book with this completely and utterly depraved look on his face”, said Lucius, shaking his head as if he still couldn’t believe what he had witness back then. “I spoke to him about Theodore and he merely said that the boy was always in the wrong place at the wrong time, and proceeded to make some awful remarks about Cassiopeia”
She huffed and rolled her eyes. “The man is absolutely mad, I tell you. Cassie was a buffer for the violence between him and his boy. Ah, I miss her dearly…we need to rescue the boy. Every time I see him…it reminds me of…”
She trailed off, and Lucius reached over to grasp her hand.
“You can say his name, Cissa”
She laughed sadly at the memory of a tear-stained Black. “Sirius. I see him and I see Sirius”
Her husband hummed. “Understandable. However, there is more. The man was dabbling with magic I have never seen. And it reeked of death. I could barely get a word in, before he grabbed the book he was writing in and thrust it into my hands, telling me to keep it safe until I could hand it to a suitable victim”
“Victim?”, Narcissa asked. “What sort of book is it?”
“I have absolutely no clue, dearest. I peered at the pages, and it was almost entirely empty”, her husband said, and rubbed his thumbs across her dainty knuckles. Involuntary goosebumps arose across her forearms, and she tried her absolute hardest not to blush. “As for the change in…persona. The things I saw in his house…Cissa…if our boys are to survive whatever it is that may happen, they need to know how people like Thoros think”.
Narcissa huffed in disbelief, but he gripped her hand tighter, grey eyes wide with a fear she hadn’t seen for a long, long time. A slight chill slowly descended down the back of her neck.
“Cissa, Draco is the heir to this House. In the future it is he who will be grappling with the people, the politics, the prejudice that I am grappling with now. You and I were raised a certain way and we know the cost of defying that way of living. We cannot afford a social cost. We cannot afford anything that could hurt this family”
He placed both hands on her shoulders and gripped them. Tightly. “That is why they need to be ready. The need to know how the rest of them think so they can fit in when need be. And the only way they can learn is through example, and that example is me”
Narcissa was silent for a moment as she processed what she had just heard. It made sense. In some twisted and ridiculous way, it did make sense. But at the same time, it also didn’t. She sighed deeply and raised her gaze to meet that of her husband’s.
“Lucius”, she started, raising her hands to cup his face. “You cannot make decisions like this by yourself. I am their mother. And I am your wife. You cannot leave me in the dark about such important things pertaining our children and our family. I understand that it is your job, as the Lord of this House to protect us all but I as your wife and as the Lady of this House have just as much wit and power”
She gently stroked his cheekbones, as she stared up at him fondly. Men, she thought with a mental chuckle. “Why couldn’t you have told me this initially? Why hide this for so many years?”
“The man is insane, Cissa”, Lucius took a deep breath before continuing. “There was no telling what he could have done to you all if he knew I told you. I haven’t even told you the full extent of the things he was saying and the decrepit things I had seen-and no, I will not tell you, because what I have already said is too much”
Narcissa nodded slowly, letting her eyes focus on the stones of the balcony around them. Suddenly, she felt so, so tired. Turning to her husband, who had mirrored her pose against the balcony, she asked, “Something is coming, isn’t it?”
Her husband gripped her hand tighter. “I am afraid so, dearest. We need to prepare ourselves”
“You don’t think it truly is the Dark Lord, do you?”, she asked, her voice suddenly quiet. Her stomach dropped at the notion of her husband’s old master returning. “I know you said Thoros was concocting something to do with him, but…but He is dead-”
“A small part of me just thinks that he is not truly gone”, Lucius claimed, raising his left forearm. “Otherwise, this abomination would have disappeared”
His Dark Mark. She had almost forgot about it. He kept it glamoured most days, and she had barely spent enough time with him in the last few months to even see it. They were both silent for a moment, taking in the sight of the brightening sky and the soft chirping of the birds.
“Whatever comes, we will be ready”, he finally said. “We aren’t our parents, Cissa”
She nodded face set with determination. “This time, we’re going to do this right”
She turned to her husband. “And we’re going to start, by figuring out what to do with that Salazar damned book, and rescue Theodore Nott”
Her husband huffed a laugh and wrapped a strong arm around a willowy frame.
“I shall follow your lead, your highness”
She didn’t even try to hide her snort.
***
“D-ACO DO YOU BING PESENTS?”, Caelum screeched as he clawed his way out of Narcissa’s grasp to run after his older brother who had just emerged from his room. The older boy’s hair was sticking up on one side, and there was a prominent pillow crease across his cheek.
He blinked slowly and turned his gaze to his mother. “Mother. Morning. Food?”
He’d slept incredibly well, the events of the previous day having collated up enough fatigue to knock him out for hours. His mother laughed, the sound lovely and rich. In the recesses of his mind something frowned in confusion. That was a rather unusually happy laugh.
“Ever the eloquent one, my dear. Yes, I was coming to wake you for breakfast”
He rubbed his face and nodded. “And, um, no I don’t have anything, Caelum”
“BUT-”
“I will play with you after breakfast”
“D-ACO-”
“Mother, why is he screaming now?”, said Orion, having emerged from his own room looking far too put together for a seven-year old.
“He’s three, Orion, of course he’s going to scream”, Draco mumbled, as he trudged down the hallway. As he passed Orion he grabbed the boy’s sleeve, dragging him along with him. “Come on, breakfast. Food”
“Wow, you have lost every ounce of class you had while you were away”, Orion retorted, too unbothered to protest against being towed along.
Draco merely grumbled an unintelligible response as he approached the sunroom they always had breakfast in. However, whatever sleep he was still rubbing off his face vanished as he took in the sight of a tall blond man already seated at the head of the table. Draco stopped short and stared, leaving Orion to slam into him from behind. Both boys grunted on impact but Draco kept his eyes locked on his father. Warily.
“Draco, move, you’re blocking the way”, wined Orion from behind him, and Draco stepped aside to let his brothers and mother through the door. He couldn’t help but stare.
After all, the last time his father had ate breakfast with them had been four years ago. He looked at his mother in unadulterated surprise, and she just smiled.
“Come. Let us eat. The elves worked very hard to make a breakfast fit for five again”
His siblings took to their respective seats, seemingly unsurprised that they father was sitting at the table with them. And Draco took his usual seat, which just happened to be beside the man. As he sat down, his father caught his gaze, and gave a small smile that had the boy sitting down abruptly.
After a moment, Draco cleared his throat and asked, “Father, aren’t you busy?”
His father raised an eyebrow and gazed at him speculatively, before smirking slightly.
“Well, you see, Draco, my eldest son, whom I have not seen in almost a year, just came home. I figured I would see him”, his father said, his words coated with an amusement Draco hadn’t heard in years.
A little blossom of warmth bloomed in his chest, and Draco tried his absolute hardest not to grin widely. He was twelve now, for Salazar’s sake. He didn’t do cheesy smiles. But to his chagrin, a grin broke across his lips, and he savagely wolved down half a waffle to hide it.
Lucius glanced at his wife for a moment, amusement shining in the silver depths, and Narcissa couldn’t help but give him a small smile.
Within minutes, breakfast became the lively affair it always was. And Draco found that whilst it was usually a chaotic affair in Hogwarts, there was a distinctly homely chaos present here. A homely sense of chaos that he had missed dearly. He wiggles his sock-clad toes and wriggled into his seat to get comfortable, and tried not to gag as he swallowed the chunk of waffle he had stuffed into his mouth previously.
Whilst he was attempting to chew around it gracefully, Orion was sitting primly in his own seat across from Draco and was meticulously cutting his waffle into triangles. Triangles.
“’Rion, you could literally cut them into squares”, Draco said as he eyed his brother’s plate with disdain.
“And you could swallow your food before you speak”, his brother clapped back, and Draco sat there, eyes wide in momentary shock at the sass that had taken ahold of the boy.
“Where did this come from?”, Draco asked in horror. “Who are you and what have you done with my brother? You were so quiet-”
“Well, I’m loud now-”
“Not loud enough because I can’t hear you over Caelum’s screeching-”
“You’re just going deaf because you had to talk to Pansy a lot-”
“Wow, Orion-”
“AWOO”, howled Caelum over the top of his brothers, and the entire table went silent as they tried to figure out why the youngest Malfoy was howling. Blatantly ignoring the spoon of porridge that Narcissa was trying – and failing – to feed to him, the boy pointed a chubby finger to the window. “AWOO”
Oh. It hit Draco. Owl.
“It’s owl, Caelum”, Draco said between snickers. “Owl”
“OW-”, Caelum screeched again, flailing one pudgy arm that smacked the spoon of porridge straight into Orion’s forehead.
“SSSHH, you’re so loud”, Orion hissed and fixed his younger brother with a withering glare that had Draco laughing loudly. The boy in question had a dollop of porridge on his forehead, and that paired with the growing redness on his cheeks made the situation just that much funnier.
“Caelum, son, you do not need to scream for us to hear you”, his father said from beside him, his warm tone catching Draco off guard. The man reached over to wipe at Orion’s forehead whilst the boy himself sat there crossly. “Goodness, you’re just like Draco when he was seven”
Indignation flared in his chest – not the negative kind, mind you. “I wasn’t that bad when I was seven”
His father fixed a pointed look at him. “You cried. A lot”
“No, I didn’t. Caelum cries a lot”
“Caelum is three, Draco-”
“Would you look at that, the letter is addressed to you, Draco”, his mother called over the top of the squabbling Malfoys. She seemed to have grabbed the letter (and the owl) whilst he was arguing with the rest of his family.
Letting his father continue tending to his brothers, Draco grabbed the letter from his mother’s hand. He unrolled it and frowned. The handwriting in was unlike he had ever seen. It was atrocious. He was almost certain his eyes were going to start bleeding as he took in the rather pointy looking ‘D’ that started the letter. His eyes traced the ill-written words, and widened as he read the last line.
Dear Malfoy,
I hope your cherub of a brother is well, as are you. I’m writing to see if I could take your mother up on her offer to let me come and stay over at your place. When, you may ask? Well, as soon as possible, please. I sent two letters and my aunt and uncle are getting frustrated with the amount of owls I keep sending and receiving.
Say, if you could collect me in the next week or so, I would be forever in your debt (that’s to be taken figuratively, Malfoy, not literally).
Thanks,
Harry Potter
Harry Potter had disgusting handwriting, it seemed. And also seemed to want to escape his own house, which was…interesting. Not unlike a certain Slytherin who had vanished a day prior. Draco looked up from the letter and caught his mother’s eye.
“Uh, Mother, it’s from Potter”, he said, and handed her the letter. From the corner of his eye, he noticed his father raise his head in interest whilst he pulled a fussing Caelum onto his lap.
His mother hummed as she read the scribble on the page in front of her.
“Well, I believe we should make arrangements to collected Mr Potter sometime soon. I suspected that his muggle caretakers were not as forthcoming about his magical nature”, his mother said, lips pursed as the thoughts started churning in her mind. She was plotting. Draco was sure.
But he also had another question to ask.
“What are we going to do about Theo?”, he said, inadvertently turning his gaze towards his father.
“We will figure something out”, the man responded, his grey eyes bearing into Draco’s. Trust me, the man’s gaze said. Trust me. Draco didn’t know what to feel. He felt his mother move around the table and lay a hand on his shoulder.
“We will”, she reassured and gently squeezed his shoulder. “Your father and I are figuring it out. For now, how about you reply to Mr Potter and let him know we will come by sometime that week?”
Draco nodded mutely and quickly shovelled the last helping of waffle left on his plate into his mouth before walking out of the sunroom to the owlery. He grabbed his inkpot, quill and some parchment as he passed by his room and set out to write to the boy.
Hello Potter,
My mother has told me to tell you that she will come by sometime this week, or the next.
In the meantime, do fix your handwriting. It’s vile.
Goodbye,
Draco L. Malfoy
Smirking as he signed off, he tied up the scroll and strapped it to his eagle owl’s leg. The bird took off, and barely ten minutes seemed to have passed, when the owl returned. Eyebrows raised, Draco untied the scroll and snorted when he saw the response.
Hello Malfoy,
Didn’t your mother teach you manners? Who signs off a letter like that? Tell her that I eagerly await her arrival. I don’t know how much longer I can last here.
Your owl is bloody massive, by the way. Doesn’t help my case at all.
Yours sincerely,
Harry Potter
Hello Potter,
‘Yours sincerely’? Potter you couldn’t be sincere if you tried. Stop spewing such disgusting things.
And my mother taught me many manners. More than you could ever know. You write like a heathen so I can’t take any word you say (or write) seriously.
And by the way, what is this case of yours?
Goodbye,
Draco L. Malfoy
He sent his owl off again, was slightly surprised to not receive a response within the next ten minutes. He shrugged it off. After all, who knew what happened underneath Potter’s mop of hair.
He left the owlery and wandered through the house until he found Caelum. He’d promised a good session of playtime, after all.
***
Meanwhile, after the children left the sunroom and the elves cleared their plates away, the Lord and Lady of the manor turned to each other. The single glance they shared said all that needed to be said.
“You are going to take that book back, and bring Theo. Regardless of the force necessary”, Narcissa said with finality, and her husband hesitated for a moment before nodding. She raised an eyebrow to convey her irritation at that response.
“Thoros is almost entirely insane, Cissa. I do not think returning the diary is the best idea…”, he said and trailed off as he took the expression on her face.
“I didn’t say give the book to him, Lucius, use your brain”, she huffed exasperatedly and grossed her arms. “Hide the book. Just in his house”
He raised an eyebrow. “We could hide it elsewhere. In this house”
“I do not want that thing near us”, she said firmly. “It reeks of dark magic. We may as well put it back where it came from. You’re a smart man. You can find somewhere to put the book. Somewhere he won’t notice or even think to look. And you can ward it and what not”
He nodded slowly, eyes narrowed as he mulled it over.
“This is risky, Cissa. And if it gets into the wrong hands…”, he caught her gaze, apprehension woven between the fine lines of dark grey that lined his pupils.
“We can ward it. Your wards are almost entirely impenetrable, and we could add runes too”, she said. She idly ran her fingertips along the wood of the table before her. “We need to get it away from us, Lucius. It will do us no good”
He inhaled deeply and exhaled loudly. Nodding with finality, he stood and approached her. A large hand softly grazed her waistline, and her breath caught ever so slightly at the sensation. She dared not turn back, lest a horrific blush grace her cheeks. Strictly keeping her gaze on the table before her, the slightest bit of heat crept into her cheeks as she felt the warmth emanate from his broad form behind her. He dipped his head down so that his lips grazed her ear, and she wanted to roll her eyes when she felt his smirk.
“I shall get to it, my love”, he said lowly, the soft cadence of his voice alighting a warmth that spread from her head all the way to her toes.
And with that, he whirled around and strode through the door without a backward glance.
Now there was the husband she had missed so dearly for the last few years.
She turned around and pressed her hands to her cheeks. I am not blushing because of my husband. I’ve lain with him, for Salazar’s sake! Narcissa get a hold of yourself, she chided, and the distant memory of Andy Black laughed brightly in the recesses of her mind.
Oh, you are smitten, Cissy, absolutely smitten.
She almost slapped herself to stop the grin that was creeping its way onto her lips. And the distant memory of Andy just laughed.
***
4 Privet Drive, 1992
Miles and miles away, Harry Potter sat despondently on his bed as he watched his uncle get to work outside his window. He could only blink in despair as each metal bar was nailed into place. The unsent letter addressed to Malfoy Manor lay on his desk. He brought his knees to his chest and rested his chin on them, staring unseeing at the window.
Sometimes, he wondered what his life would have been like if he had parents like Hermione’s. Or what it would have been like if he had parents at all. Surely, he wouldn’t be barricaded in his room. Surely, he would be able to come down and eat dinner with the family…like an equal. Surely, he could feel some semblance of joy. He blinked again, as his uncle slammed the final nail into place with a satisfied grunt.
When he had got off the train and seen two blond boys rush over to Malfoy, a deep sense of longing stirred in his chest. It almost hurt, and he had to physically force himself to step forward towards them. To take another step. And another, until he was right behind the boy. And when Narcissa Malfoy, in all her elegance materialised, any irritation at the littlest Malfoy’s horrendous mispronunciation of his name left his mind. Unlike the other pureblood parents he had seen, she was different. There was a warmth to her gaze, and she seemed like the kind of person whom you just knew was a lovely being.
And when she’d offered him an invitation to the Manor, he had fight off the urge to jump with glee. He glanced at the barred windows again. Was it truly a crime to be who he was? It didn’t make any sense…that his mother, a woman who everyone said was ever so sweet, could be related to the cruel woman that was his aunt. He felt his eyes burning and blinked. Hard. Today was not the day he would cry. Tears were what he spent during his many months in the cupboard under the stairs. Tears were what he during his time curled up in that tiny space, hoping…wishing that someday he could get out and be free. He had his own room now. And even though he wasn’t free per se, there was that. He could stand to his full height in here, he has his own desk, even though it was so much smaller than Dudley’s. And he had Hedwig, who, although she couldn’t fly out his window anymore, was a lovely companion.
Although the only source of light into his tiny room was now boarded up, Harry Potter didn’t lose hope. In a few days…he could be free! And if not then, he’d have to go to Hogwarts anyways, and he could spend a blissful year free from this place.
He stood and grabbed the pack of owl treats that rested on his bedside table. Going over to her cage, he gave Hedwig a little more to eat to keep her well-fed over the night.
After all, there was one lesson he had taught himself. A hard one he had learned over the course of his eleven years of life. It didn’t matter, how much cruelty one faced. Rather when people are cruel to you, no matter how unfairly they treat you, it is better to smile through the pain, than to be angry at them for it made him no better than them. He tamped down the ugly concoction of fury, frustration and despair that bubbled beneath his skin, and grabbed the card Hermione had sent him from France.
Smiling slightly at her ridiculously neat handwriting, he pulled back the covers of his bed and lay down, making sure to place the postcard neatly on beside his lamp. He had friends now. Good people that reminded him that he was also a person. Flipping the switch of the lamp to turn it off, he settled into the scratchy covers and closed his eyes.
You’ll be out of there soon, Potter, a voice echoed.
And as he sunk into his slumber, he couldn’t help but think that the voice sounded distinctly like that of a certain pointy-looking blonde’s.