Springfic: "Being a Malfoy" for virginia_bell
Title: Being a Malfoy
Author: Midnight_Birth
Recipient: virginia_bell.
Character(s): Narcissa Malfoy and the Malfoy family. Some canon Lucius/Narcissa. (Some side Harry Potter.)
Rating: PG-13
Word-count: 4,543 words
Warnings (highlight to view): Angst, brief mention of sexual content.
Summary: The Malfoy pride is a predominant feature of the family. But when it threatens to destroy them, Narcissa Malfoy, once a Black, does what she had always done - preserve her family at any cost.
Author's Notes: Aside from a drabble years ago, this is my first gen fic, and I had tons of fun writing it! I really hope you enjoyed this; I was thrilled when you requested the Malfoys. ♥
Being a Malfoy
~*~
Narcissa took off the pearls from around her neck and put them down on the table. This was the third time she had done this and her fingers paused above them doubtfully, eager to snatch them up and fix them around her neck again, where they obviously belonged. She studied herself in the mirror. Without the pearls, it looked bare, but with it was perhaps immodest. Too flashy.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and shook her head. Narcissa Malfoy spending hours getting dressed with the goal of looking modest sounded ludicrous even in her mind. And hours was what it took. She didn’t own any “modest” attire. Everything from her dress to her shoes showed, and not humbly, how much money was spent on it. Yet she knew that flaunting her riches thus, even without the intention, when she shouldn’t have anything at all, was unwise.
She had to give it to herself, though. For anyone who knew her it would stand clear that it was the closest she had ever come to modest. She was wearing a plain grey dress, black robes, flat shoes, and no jewellery save for her engagement and wedding rings. Her robes lacked the family signet. There was no need to remind anyone she was a Malfoy. There was no shame in the name for her, but she didn’t want to wear it proudly, either. Not just yet.
She was as ready as she was ever going to be for what she was about to do.
Draco seemed to be floating outside, waiting for her to come out when she ran into him. She gave him a small smile as he measured her with a critical look.
“Where are you going looking like that?” he asked.
“Out.” She frowned. “And surprisingly rude implication, Draco. I would rather prefer a ‘You look lovely as always, Mother.’”
Draco smiled at her indulgingly. He reminded her very much of Lucius when he did that, for Lucius adopted that kind of smile when he believed he was indulging her whims, too. “You look lovely, Mother, of course,” Draco said. “What you’re wearing is rather... plain, though. I would recommend maybe some pearls?” He gave her feet another displeased look. “And some heels? You look... poor.”
Narcissa studied him. Was it her she was seeing in him? The curve of his lip and the disgusted look was hers, no doubt. It was like looking in the mirror and seeing an unpleasant part of herself. Yet she knew the sincere disgust and loathing on his face, the twinkle in his eye, was Lucius’s. Her whole life, she had played her part well. And she would not fool herself in believing that she was anything other than she was. She wouldn’t deny that when she saw Molly Weasley in Diagon Alley, she smirked at the woman’s dress and wished to never have to be seen in public with her. She hated all the right people and thought all the right things. She was always the good daughter.
She was always the most stable daughter, too. The one who was just right, without leaning dangerously too close to either side of the spectrum. Andromeda didn’t care for blood or money. She was in line with Sirius. Her priorities were as broken as they could be. Bellatrix, however, wasn’t exactly the perfect portrait of the family standards, either. Bellatrix’s hate for Mudbloods and all those who weren’t in the same ranking as them ran deeper than, Narcissa believed, it had a reason to. It was true that Narcissa felt contempt toward them, wouldn’t marry or befriend one, or have anything to do with them at all if she could help it, but even with all that she still didn’t wish to dedicate her life to ridding the world of them. In fact, she didn’t much care what happened to them; what they did or where and how they lived. She wanted to preserve the pure bloodline, but their mere existence didn’t bother her. If they stayed in their place and their place was far from hers, why would she concern herself with them at all?
Bellatrix, of course, didn’t share her sentiments. Neither did Lucius, so much of whom she now saw in her son.
In her youth she had many times jealously believed that Lucius and she were mismatched, and he would much rather have had the sister who shared his loyalties and ambitions. It was a mix and match situation, of course, as was traditional in a Pureblood family. Neither Narcissa nor Bellatrix had any say in the matter, though Bellatrix had mentioned back in school that she preferred Rudolphus to many other potentials. Narcissa had only come to know many years later that while Rudolphus had asked for the hand of “one of the Black daughters”, Lucius had asked for Narcissa’s hand specifically. She had quickly realized that she was lucky in that regard. Rudolphus, though outwardly very calm, docile and impartial, much like Narcissa, had come to terrify her as much as Bellatrix. And while Lucius and Bellatrix worked together many a time and got along well enough, Narcissa saw the resentment that the two harboured for each other. Bellatrix was too imposing for Lucius, and Lucius too power-hungry for Bellatrix. It was because they were so similar that they would never have made a good match.
Draco, unfortunately, was much more influenced by Lucius and Bellatrix than anyone else. Now that Narcissa thought about it, she had pampered and spoiled Draco his whole life, but she had never taught him. Lucius had taught him to never cry, and she held him and comforted him when he did. Bellatrix had given him advanced lessons in dark dangerous magic Narcissa would rather have Draco never know, yet she never said a word about it. Lucius had taught him business, money, and Pureblood values, and had introduced him into Voldemort’s ranks, while Narcissa, unable to do anything, did nothing and prayed for her husband’s and son’s safety. Silently, she wished for Harry to defeat the Dark Lord once again so her family could go back to living without an influence of any Lord or agenda.
Draco was no longer a boy now. He was a man, and he resembled his father uncannily in every single way. Aside from her physical traits, Narcissa hadn’t been able to impart anything of her own into her son. Was it too late to start now? What Lucius could impart no longer had a place in the world they were living in. But what did she have to offer?
“I’m going somewhere where looking this way will benefit my purpose,” she replied calmly.
Draco’s eyes lit up in suspicion and then his shoulders sagged as he looked her over once again. He looked up at her from under his eyebrows and she stood tall, gazing back at him.
“The Minister is -”
“I’m not going there to speak with the Minister.”
The realization of the meaning of that statement came much quicker than the last. Narcissa observed as Draco’s exterior demonstrated the struggle going on inside. His fists clenched around his robes and his face screwed up in an expression of anger mixed with helplessness.
“You’re going to beg?” he growled finally so quietly it was barely audible. “Beg him?”
Narcissa sighed. It was exactly the way Lucius had reacted, and those were exactly the words he used, too.
“He owes you his life. They haven’t come yet, have they? They’ve come for everyone they were going to come for already, but not us. He must have told them. He must be repaying you his debt this way.”
“He owes me nothing, actually,” Narcissa snapped. “And because they haven’t come yet, it doesn’t mean they will not come. I will not sit around and wait in fear.”
“In his fair and noble little head, he believes he owes you, and he believes correctly.” Draco smirked. “You don’t know the Golden Boy.”
“Fine.” She reached into the pockets of her robes and took out the plain black gloves she hadn’t worn in years for their simple appearance. “I will stay. You and Lucius will go.”
Draco’s shoulders squared off and his eyes blazed with anger now. He reminded her of a bull ready to charge. There it was. This was hers. Lucius’s anger was calm and terrifying.
“Father and I would never stoop so low -”
“He may owe me his life,” she interrupted, “but what does he owe you? What does he owe Lucius? If I am not mistaken, you owe him your life.” Draco said nothing, staring at the floor with his nostrils flared. She made for the staircase but turned to look at her son before disappearing out of view. “And you better remember, Draco, that I go to ask for something, and for that I will put myself in debt if there is a possibility of him complying. But you are already in his debt. Do not forget the wizarding law, Draco. That debt is going to have to be repaid.”
“Have you no pride?”
Draco’s last words echoed through the manor as she swept out of the front doors. It was a haunting question in her life. She had been asked this before, and not once. Had she no pride when she made Severus make the Unbreakable Vow? Had she no pride when she begged Voldemort to spare her son the horrible assignment he was given? Had she no pride when she betrayed them all by stating Harry was dead and ruining all the efforts they had made?
Yes, pride was a word she heard often. The Malfoys were infamous for it. She had her share of pride, of course, but she was a Malfoy by name. She was a Black by blood, and a mother and wife by nature. On a grand scale of things, she would allow herself pride only when she could afford it.
~*~
Narcissa had learned early in her life the importance of silence. They had been silent for what seemed like hours now, neither willing to speak, or not knowing where to begin, but she knew she must not break it. She would speak when spoken to and no sooner. Voldemort had once told her it was a rule, and before that her mother, but Harry’s silence was different from theirs. She understood it. It wasn’t demeaning or condescending, but it was difficult.
He hadn’t expected to find her in his office and she could tell immediately that he had things to tell her which he didn’t know how to say. She knew, of course, along with the rest of her family, that the only reason they weren’t in Azkaban already was because Harry had done something. Months had passed and nobody came to take neither Lucius nor Draco, both of whom were guilty of charges for which many other Death Eaters had already been persecuted.
He smiled at her nervously. He was Draco’s age, and in his face she saw all the worry lines and war scars that Draco had, too. The ones from worrying about people he loved, and the ones from being afraid to fail them. Harry’s were deeper, of course. Draco only worried for his family’s well-being and failing them, whereas Harry worried about failing the entire wizarding world. Those scars, though reasons for them had long faded, would remain there forever, making Harry look much older than he was.
“I have a pretty good idea of why you’re here,” Harry said finally, sitting up in his chair.
“I have a good idea why I can still walk these halls at all,” Narcissa replied.
“You saved my life,” Harry stated. She could see he was uncomfortable with the notion. Grateful and unable to express it. She knew it would be different had she been anyone else, but she was her, and Harry was trying. He really was as foolishly noble as Draco had said. She wished Draco could understand how much depended on Harry being that way. “Your trial was held,” Harry continued, “and dismissed. I presented the evidence that without your deed the war could not have been won. You were not a Death Eater, you do not have a Dark Mark, and you only worked for Voldemort the last few months because he forced you through Draco. That much is known to us, and we took this into consideration. You are free of all charges.”
Narcissa shifted in her chair nervously, immediately gaining control over her limbs and sitting up straight again. She wasn’t good at this. She never in her life had to ask. She always thought that the need would never arise, and that she was indeed too proud to ask if it did.
“You haven’t come here to ask about yourself, have you?” Harry asked after a lengthy pause.
“Will they come for them?”
It was Harry’s turn to shift nervously. She knew more than well enough how much he despised her husband and son. In her life, she only met Harry a couple of times, but now she was the only thing standing between him and her family. One word from him would see both Lucius and Draco gone without a trace, and it was obvious that a word from him had prevented this from happening so far. It was only because Harry could relate to her pain and fear of losing her family that he cared at all. His mother had also thrown everything away for the sake of his safety. Deep inside her own heart she felt the guilt of exploiting that, but she knew she had to use it. She had to do anything to get what she needed. She had always been a Slytherin, after all, and the ends justified the means. And the stakes had never been so high.
“Here’s the thing.” Harry crossed his arms on his chest. “Malfoy... Draco. He’s... Well, he’s not a unique case. He’s a Death Eater youth, son of one, so a case of being pressured into it could be made with a good lawyer.”
Narcissa closed her eyes and then opened them slowly.
“Could be?”
Harry was looking unsure. She pulled out the cards she was prepared to play. She reached over the desk and placed her hand next to his. She hadn’t meant to touch him, but the gesture still registered. It made it seem as if she made the move in the grasp of desperate abandonment but caught herself in time.
“My son is not a murderer!” she said passionately. “The only thing he did, he did because his family was threatened. Voldemort said he’d kill Lucius and me if he didn’t fix that wardrobe and kill Dumbledore.” Harry flinched and Narcissa hurried to add, “But he couldn’t kill him, could he?” She could see his face waver. She was getting through. She knew what it was time for now. She let her voice waver. “He’s just a kid. He was never the bravest. He chose this out of stupidity, naivety, just like his father, and you can’t go back with him. You must know that.”
She talked. She perhaps had not intended to say so much or so passionately, and caught herself more than once, but the words kept coming. She wasn’t sure whether it was because Harry was listening so intently, or because she sensed that the more she said, the more she convinced him. She wanted to believe the latter. She said what needed to be said in the way it needed to be said. She blocked out the voice at the back of her mind - Lucius’s voice that had become the voice of her subconscious most of the time - which growled in her ear that she was begging and grovelling and dishonouring the Malfoy name.
But as she looked at Harry and saw something soften behind his eyes, she knew that she was doing the right thing. Perhaps not for her family name, but most definitely for her family. Lucius’s pride with some things was unwavering. She remembered what her mother had once told her in a surprising moment of parental wisdom. She had said that a home had to be complete, and a good wife’s duty was to fulfill her husband. Where he lacked, she had to excel, regardless of her strengths or weaknesses. She had never thought about that until later in their marriage. Now, she agreed with her mother completely. She had to make Lucius’s weaknesses her strengths to get them through this. Lucius was good at some things - he had provided a luxurious life for them, many powerful contacts, and put anything his family could ever dream of within reach. Now, it was her turn to balance the scales and do what she was good at to keep it all and not lose it in the aftermaths of the war.
“Lucius is going to be difficult,” Harry said finally, when Narcissa had fallen silent and given him a chance to put in a word. “He can’t claim ignorance or outside influence like Draco can. He has come to the Dark Lord’s side after his coming to power twice now, he’s responsible for many deaths, and... Your family. What they put me through. What they put the Weasleys through, Lucius especially. You have to understand my position. I cannot take up Lucius’s defence. Saying anything as it is puts me in a terribly difficult position with my career, with my friends, and with everyone I know. Your deed played a crucial part in winning this war, and no one is going to forget that. But even with that there is a line I cannot cross.”
Narcissa nodded and got up. She had won her son’s freedom, of that she was certain. Harry insisted on tolerance courses and probation, and Narcissa knew Draco would have to be convinced to cooperate, but she had insured his future. One day, if he tried, his name would be cleared enough for him to choose a career of his own. And if not, he would go in Lucius’s footsteps of expanding the family fortune and not really having a career to speak of or needing one. Either way, she gave him a fighting chance, and she would follow up with making sure Draco saw very clearly what the alternative was. That’s what she had to impart, and it was never too late. She would teach him how to balance his pride and his ability to survive when needed. How to lose battles but win the war. Lucius could not teach him that. He had never that lesson learned himself.
As far as Lucius went, however, she knew the battle would be harder, and it was still just beginning. Harry had the capability of preventing his arrest, as Lucius walked free still, and from that she knew she stood a chance. His cooperation would be harder to get, but the instances where she couldn’t get Lucius to do what she wanted were very rare. He would have to see the options, too.
Harry stood up and extended his hand. Without a thought she took it, shaking it lightly and never leaving his eyes with her own.
“All I wish is for my family to be safe and sound within our home. Away from the world if the world will not have us, but together. When I was a girl, my family fell apart spectacularly. If I had one wish, it would be to not have that repeated now.”
She bowed and walked out, leaving Harry standing in the middle of his office, staring at the floor. She knew her last words had made an impression. She meant them to. She had to say that because she knew he could relate - she knew if he had one wish he would wish for his parents, too, and to have his family whole again. She played on his weaknesses and emotions, but she would not deny that with all her manipulation, she was telling the absolute truth.
~*~
“Lucius, I can feel you want to speak. Say it while I’m still awake to hear it. Please.”
She hadn’t expected to see her husband in their bed with her for many weeks following her conversation with Harry. Months, perhaps. But he was in bed the very first night, not saying a word, facing away from her. She knew, of course, that if he was there, it was he intended to talk. They knew each other too well to not know the each other’s ways, but still played the games by the rules. While Narcissa knew Lucius had come with the intention of discussion, he pretended that he had no such intention, and she pretended to believe it and try to convince him to speak to her. In the end, he would act as if he did it as a favour to her, and she would act grateful.
“You want to ask what was said, don’t you?” she asked when he didn’t respond. “What the verdict is?”
Lucius turned around at a lightning speed, sitting up in bed beside her. “No, dear, I do not,” he hissed. “What I would like to know more than anything else is how you could have gone and done that - disgraced our family like that - after I explicitly told you how I felt about it. I told you I could handle it, the way I handled it last time. Yet you still went, against my will.”
“I did what I had to do.” She sighed and sat up too, smoothing the covers on top of herself.
The sound that rumbled in his chest and made its way out of his mouth was something between a growl and a scoff. “Had to? Narcissa, we would have to fall miles lower than this to necessitate what you’ve done. And in my family, that has never happened.”
Her hands clutched the covers. She had been married to Lucius a long time. She knew how to be calm, how to take his anger and sarcasm and nullify it. And, looking at his shadowy profile, she could feel the fear and the humiliation that drove him to it this time. But she couldn’t ignore her own anger and hurt. She didn’t know whether he understood that it was equally hard on her. Her own anger and disappointment was bubbling inside her, and she was growing weary of holding it in.
“I am your family.” Her voice sounded strained. “In fact, Draco and I are the only family you have left. I have guaranteed our son a future. I may have kept you out of Azkaban so you can be with us. It was worth any humiliation or disgrace you believe this has brought.”
“Worth it? So would you like me to thank you for this, perhaps?” Lucius’s voice was getting more and more bitter. “You did not believe me capable of fixing this, did you? In fact, this is all my fault, really.”
“It’s not about placing bla -”
“Of course it is!” he spat. “It would be a lie if you told me you didn’t think about how this is all my fault, Narcissa. I joined Lord Voldemort, twice, though you begged me both times not to. I introduced Draco into their ranks, almost damning him for the rest of his existence. I made so many enemies in so many places that we found ourselves in a hole too deep to get out of after the war with no one to help. It was all me. You observed from the side-lines, Draco followed blindly, and I caused this.” Lucius punched the mattress suddenly, making Narcissa jump. “And now you had to beg. Beg Harry bloody Potter.”
Suddenly, Narcissa was on her knees beside him, turning him by the shoulders to face her roughly.
“Yes, well, Lucius, you did meddle things up. Ok? Happy? You’ve made mistakes, and if you hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here right now. But we would be somewhere else, and there is no knowing whether that place would be better or worse.” She could see him frown in the dark. “But that’s what people do, Lucius. They make mistakes. And you married me, so whether you like it or not, there’s two of us in this, and there has been for over twenty years, even though you’ve never quite learned how not to think for two. How to divide all your burdens.” She squeezed his shoulders tighter. “So you made mistakes and I could fix them, so I did. You were always too proud. That’s the way you are, but that’s not the way I am. I want my son to have a normal long life ahead of him. I want my husband by my side, hand-in-hand with me in old age and beyond. So if that was what I had to do, then there was nothing standing in my way. You don’t have to thank me, Lucius.”
“You are, I’m afraid, much more a Slytherin than I ever was,” he murmured, the anger barely apparent in his voice, and she smiled.
“Those cunning folks use any means to achieve their ends.”
That night, Lucius took her roughly and possessively. She had submitted gladly, knowing that he needed to be in control of something. Needed to prove and feel his strength. She knew her husband well enough, of course, to know that now that she had given him the means, he was going to build himself back up. Mend his wounded pride and renew his ambitions. Find again his strength and his confidence.
He had stumbled, and she was there to catch him and send him on his way again. She felt surprisingly fulfilled. When it came to Voldemort, she had always felt that she somehow failed to be strong for Lucius. That he joining the Dark Lord’s ranks was a stumble, and she wasn’t there to steady him on his feet then. She had watched him fall to the ground and get back up. She would never again stand by and watch.
When she had first married Lucius, she was terrified of undertaking the burden of such a magnificently prestigious and old family. She knew then that the Malfoys stood for something. There were ways they did things. There were customs, traditions, and values that had to be upheld. Now, she was a Malfoy herself, soon to be welcoming a new young lady into her family, and ensuring she kept up the family standards, too. But she could redefine the rules now. It was time for new standards, new traditions, and new values. It was time to change what it meant to be a Malfoy. She used to be a Black, and she never gave it up to become a Malfoy. She simply merged it.
Lying in her husband’s arms she felt relief. She was Narcissa Malfoy, previously Black, and once a Slytherin. She carried every single one of her titles with pride. She felt like she had now deserved them all. She had felt a momentary rush of disgrace and humiliation, but it was past now, and the Malfoy family lived on.
Author: Midnight_Birth
Recipient: virginia_bell.
Character(s): Narcissa Malfoy and the Malfoy family. Some canon Lucius/Narcissa. (Some side Harry Potter.)
Rating: PG-13
Word-count: 4,543 words
Warnings (highlight to view): Angst, brief mention of sexual content.
Summary: The Malfoy pride is a predominant feature of the family. But when it threatens to destroy them, Narcissa Malfoy, once a Black, does what she had always done - preserve her family at any cost.
Author's Notes: Aside from a drabble years ago, this is my first gen fic, and I had tons of fun writing it! I really hope you enjoyed this; I was thrilled when you requested the Malfoys. ♥
Being a Malfoy
~*~
Narcissa took off the pearls from around her neck and put them down on the table. This was the third time she had done this and her fingers paused above them doubtfully, eager to snatch them up and fix them around her neck again, where they obviously belonged. She studied herself in the mirror. Without the pearls, it looked bare, but with it was perhaps immodest. Too flashy.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and shook her head. Narcissa Malfoy spending hours getting dressed with the goal of looking modest sounded ludicrous even in her mind. And hours was what it took. She didn’t own any “modest” attire. Everything from her dress to her shoes showed, and not humbly, how much money was spent on it. Yet she knew that flaunting her riches thus, even without the intention, when she shouldn’t have anything at all, was unwise.
She had to give it to herself, though. For anyone who knew her it would stand clear that it was the closest she had ever come to modest. She was wearing a plain grey dress, black robes, flat shoes, and no jewellery save for her engagement and wedding rings. Her robes lacked the family signet. There was no need to remind anyone she was a Malfoy. There was no shame in the name for her, but she didn’t want to wear it proudly, either. Not just yet.
She was as ready as she was ever going to be for what she was about to do.
Draco seemed to be floating outside, waiting for her to come out when she ran into him. She gave him a small smile as he measured her with a critical look.
“Where are you going looking like that?” he asked.
“Out.” She frowned. “And surprisingly rude implication, Draco. I would rather prefer a ‘You look lovely as always, Mother.’”
Draco smiled at her indulgingly. He reminded her very much of Lucius when he did that, for Lucius adopted that kind of smile when he believed he was indulging her whims, too. “You look lovely, Mother, of course,” Draco said. “What you’re wearing is rather... plain, though. I would recommend maybe some pearls?” He gave her feet another displeased look. “And some heels? You look... poor.”
Narcissa studied him. Was it her she was seeing in him? The curve of his lip and the disgusted look was hers, no doubt. It was like looking in the mirror and seeing an unpleasant part of herself. Yet she knew the sincere disgust and loathing on his face, the twinkle in his eye, was Lucius’s. Her whole life, she had played her part well. And she would not fool herself in believing that she was anything other than she was. She wouldn’t deny that when she saw Molly Weasley in Diagon Alley, she smirked at the woman’s dress and wished to never have to be seen in public with her. She hated all the right people and thought all the right things. She was always the good daughter.
She was always the most stable daughter, too. The one who was just right, without leaning dangerously too close to either side of the spectrum. Andromeda didn’t care for blood or money. She was in line with Sirius. Her priorities were as broken as they could be. Bellatrix, however, wasn’t exactly the perfect portrait of the family standards, either. Bellatrix’s hate for Mudbloods and all those who weren’t in the same ranking as them ran deeper than, Narcissa believed, it had a reason to. It was true that Narcissa felt contempt toward them, wouldn’t marry or befriend one, or have anything to do with them at all if she could help it, but even with all that she still didn’t wish to dedicate her life to ridding the world of them. In fact, she didn’t much care what happened to them; what they did or where and how they lived. She wanted to preserve the pure bloodline, but their mere existence didn’t bother her. If they stayed in their place and their place was far from hers, why would she concern herself with them at all?
Bellatrix, of course, didn’t share her sentiments. Neither did Lucius, so much of whom she now saw in her son.
In her youth she had many times jealously believed that Lucius and she were mismatched, and he would much rather have had the sister who shared his loyalties and ambitions. It was a mix and match situation, of course, as was traditional in a Pureblood family. Neither Narcissa nor Bellatrix had any say in the matter, though Bellatrix had mentioned back in school that she preferred Rudolphus to many other potentials. Narcissa had only come to know many years later that while Rudolphus had asked for the hand of “one of the Black daughters”, Lucius had asked for Narcissa’s hand specifically. She had quickly realized that she was lucky in that regard. Rudolphus, though outwardly very calm, docile and impartial, much like Narcissa, had come to terrify her as much as Bellatrix. And while Lucius and Bellatrix worked together many a time and got along well enough, Narcissa saw the resentment that the two harboured for each other. Bellatrix was too imposing for Lucius, and Lucius too power-hungry for Bellatrix. It was because they were so similar that they would never have made a good match.
Draco, unfortunately, was much more influenced by Lucius and Bellatrix than anyone else. Now that Narcissa thought about it, she had pampered and spoiled Draco his whole life, but she had never taught him. Lucius had taught him to never cry, and she held him and comforted him when he did. Bellatrix had given him advanced lessons in dark dangerous magic Narcissa would rather have Draco never know, yet she never said a word about it. Lucius had taught him business, money, and Pureblood values, and had introduced him into Voldemort’s ranks, while Narcissa, unable to do anything, did nothing and prayed for her husband’s and son’s safety. Silently, she wished for Harry to defeat the Dark Lord once again so her family could go back to living without an influence of any Lord or agenda.
Draco was no longer a boy now. He was a man, and he resembled his father uncannily in every single way. Aside from her physical traits, Narcissa hadn’t been able to impart anything of her own into her son. Was it too late to start now? What Lucius could impart no longer had a place in the world they were living in. But what did she have to offer?
“I’m going somewhere where looking this way will benefit my purpose,” she replied calmly.
Draco’s eyes lit up in suspicion and then his shoulders sagged as he looked her over once again. He looked up at her from under his eyebrows and she stood tall, gazing back at him.
“The Minister is -”
“I’m not going there to speak with the Minister.”
The realization of the meaning of that statement came much quicker than the last. Narcissa observed as Draco’s exterior demonstrated the struggle going on inside. His fists clenched around his robes and his face screwed up in an expression of anger mixed with helplessness.
“You’re going to beg?” he growled finally so quietly it was barely audible. “Beg him?”
Narcissa sighed. It was exactly the way Lucius had reacted, and those were exactly the words he used, too.
“He owes you his life. They haven’t come yet, have they? They’ve come for everyone they were going to come for already, but not us. He must have told them. He must be repaying you his debt this way.”
“He owes me nothing, actually,” Narcissa snapped. “And because they haven’t come yet, it doesn’t mean they will not come. I will not sit around and wait in fear.”
“In his fair and noble little head, he believes he owes you, and he believes correctly.” Draco smirked. “You don’t know the Golden Boy.”
“Fine.” She reached into the pockets of her robes and took out the plain black gloves she hadn’t worn in years for their simple appearance. “I will stay. You and Lucius will go.”
Draco’s shoulders squared off and his eyes blazed with anger now. He reminded her of a bull ready to charge. There it was. This was hers. Lucius’s anger was calm and terrifying.
“Father and I would never stoop so low -”
“He may owe me his life,” she interrupted, “but what does he owe you? What does he owe Lucius? If I am not mistaken, you owe him your life.” Draco said nothing, staring at the floor with his nostrils flared. She made for the staircase but turned to look at her son before disappearing out of view. “And you better remember, Draco, that I go to ask for something, and for that I will put myself in debt if there is a possibility of him complying. But you are already in his debt. Do not forget the wizarding law, Draco. That debt is going to have to be repaid.”
“Have you no pride?”
Draco’s last words echoed through the manor as she swept out of the front doors. It was a haunting question in her life. She had been asked this before, and not once. Had she no pride when she made Severus make the Unbreakable Vow? Had she no pride when she begged Voldemort to spare her son the horrible assignment he was given? Had she no pride when she betrayed them all by stating Harry was dead and ruining all the efforts they had made?
Yes, pride was a word she heard often. The Malfoys were infamous for it. She had her share of pride, of course, but she was a Malfoy by name. She was a Black by blood, and a mother and wife by nature. On a grand scale of things, she would allow herself pride only when she could afford it.
~*~
Narcissa had learned early in her life the importance of silence. They had been silent for what seemed like hours now, neither willing to speak, or not knowing where to begin, but she knew she must not break it. She would speak when spoken to and no sooner. Voldemort had once told her it was a rule, and before that her mother, but Harry’s silence was different from theirs. She understood it. It wasn’t demeaning or condescending, but it was difficult.
He hadn’t expected to find her in his office and she could tell immediately that he had things to tell her which he didn’t know how to say. She knew, of course, along with the rest of her family, that the only reason they weren’t in Azkaban already was because Harry had done something. Months had passed and nobody came to take neither Lucius nor Draco, both of whom were guilty of charges for which many other Death Eaters had already been persecuted.
He smiled at her nervously. He was Draco’s age, and in his face she saw all the worry lines and war scars that Draco had, too. The ones from worrying about people he loved, and the ones from being afraid to fail them. Harry’s were deeper, of course. Draco only worried for his family’s well-being and failing them, whereas Harry worried about failing the entire wizarding world. Those scars, though reasons for them had long faded, would remain there forever, making Harry look much older than he was.
“I have a pretty good idea of why you’re here,” Harry said finally, sitting up in his chair.
“I have a good idea why I can still walk these halls at all,” Narcissa replied.
“You saved my life,” Harry stated. She could see he was uncomfortable with the notion. Grateful and unable to express it. She knew it would be different had she been anyone else, but she was her, and Harry was trying. He really was as foolishly noble as Draco had said. She wished Draco could understand how much depended on Harry being that way. “Your trial was held,” Harry continued, “and dismissed. I presented the evidence that without your deed the war could not have been won. You were not a Death Eater, you do not have a Dark Mark, and you only worked for Voldemort the last few months because he forced you through Draco. That much is known to us, and we took this into consideration. You are free of all charges.”
Narcissa shifted in her chair nervously, immediately gaining control over her limbs and sitting up straight again. She wasn’t good at this. She never in her life had to ask. She always thought that the need would never arise, and that she was indeed too proud to ask if it did.
“You haven’t come here to ask about yourself, have you?” Harry asked after a lengthy pause.
“Will they come for them?”
It was Harry’s turn to shift nervously. She knew more than well enough how much he despised her husband and son. In her life, she only met Harry a couple of times, but now she was the only thing standing between him and her family. One word from him would see both Lucius and Draco gone without a trace, and it was obvious that a word from him had prevented this from happening so far. It was only because Harry could relate to her pain and fear of losing her family that he cared at all. His mother had also thrown everything away for the sake of his safety. Deep inside her own heart she felt the guilt of exploiting that, but she knew she had to use it. She had to do anything to get what she needed. She had always been a Slytherin, after all, and the ends justified the means. And the stakes had never been so high.
“Here’s the thing.” Harry crossed his arms on his chest. “Malfoy... Draco. He’s... Well, he’s not a unique case. He’s a Death Eater youth, son of one, so a case of being pressured into it could be made with a good lawyer.”
Narcissa closed her eyes and then opened them slowly.
“Could be?”
Harry was looking unsure. She pulled out the cards she was prepared to play. She reached over the desk and placed her hand next to his. She hadn’t meant to touch him, but the gesture still registered. It made it seem as if she made the move in the grasp of desperate abandonment but caught herself in time.
“My son is not a murderer!” she said passionately. “The only thing he did, he did because his family was threatened. Voldemort said he’d kill Lucius and me if he didn’t fix that wardrobe and kill Dumbledore.” Harry flinched and Narcissa hurried to add, “But he couldn’t kill him, could he?” She could see his face waver. She was getting through. She knew what it was time for now. She let her voice waver. “He’s just a kid. He was never the bravest. He chose this out of stupidity, naivety, just like his father, and you can’t go back with him. You must know that.”
She talked. She perhaps had not intended to say so much or so passionately, and caught herself more than once, but the words kept coming. She wasn’t sure whether it was because Harry was listening so intently, or because she sensed that the more she said, the more she convinced him. She wanted to believe the latter. She said what needed to be said in the way it needed to be said. She blocked out the voice at the back of her mind - Lucius’s voice that had become the voice of her subconscious most of the time - which growled in her ear that she was begging and grovelling and dishonouring the Malfoy name.
But as she looked at Harry and saw something soften behind his eyes, she knew that she was doing the right thing. Perhaps not for her family name, but most definitely for her family. Lucius’s pride with some things was unwavering. She remembered what her mother had once told her in a surprising moment of parental wisdom. She had said that a home had to be complete, and a good wife’s duty was to fulfill her husband. Where he lacked, she had to excel, regardless of her strengths or weaknesses. She had never thought about that until later in their marriage. Now, she agreed with her mother completely. She had to make Lucius’s weaknesses her strengths to get them through this. Lucius was good at some things - he had provided a luxurious life for them, many powerful contacts, and put anything his family could ever dream of within reach. Now, it was her turn to balance the scales and do what she was good at to keep it all and not lose it in the aftermaths of the war.
“Lucius is going to be difficult,” Harry said finally, when Narcissa had fallen silent and given him a chance to put in a word. “He can’t claim ignorance or outside influence like Draco can. He has come to the Dark Lord’s side after his coming to power twice now, he’s responsible for many deaths, and... Your family. What they put me through. What they put the Weasleys through, Lucius especially. You have to understand my position. I cannot take up Lucius’s defence. Saying anything as it is puts me in a terribly difficult position with my career, with my friends, and with everyone I know. Your deed played a crucial part in winning this war, and no one is going to forget that. But even with that there is a line I cannot cross.”
Narcissa nodded and got up. She had won her son’s freedom, of that she was certain. Harry insisted on tolerance courses and probation, and Narcissa knew Draco would have to be convinced to cooperate, but she had insured his future. One day, if he tried, his name would be cleared enough for him to choose a career of his own. And if not, he would go in Lucius’s footsteps of expanding the family fortune and not really having a career to speak of or needing one. Either way, she gave him a fighting chance, and she would follow up with making sure Draco saw very clearly what the alternative was. That’s what she had to impart, and it was never too late. She would teach him how to balance his pride and his ability to survive when needed. How to lose battles but win the war. Lucius could not teach him that. He had never that lesson learned himself.
As far as Lucius went, however, she knew the battle would be harder, and it was still just beginning. Harry had the capability of preventing his arrest, as Lucius walked free still, and from that she knew she stood a chance. His cooperation would be harder to get, but the instances where she couldn’t get Lucius to do what she wanted were very rare. He would have to see the options, too.
Harry stood up and extended his hand. Without a thought she took it, shaking it lightly and never leaving his eyes with her own.
“All I wish is for my family to be safe and sound within our home. Away from the world if the world will not have us, but together. When I was a girl, my family fell apart spectacularly. If I had one wish, it would be to not have that repeated now.”
She bowed and walked out, leaving Harry standing in the middle of his office, staring at the floor. She knew her last words had made an impression. She meant them to. She had to say that because she knew he could relate - she knew if he had one wish he would wish for his parents, too, and to have his family whole again. She played on his weaknesses and emotions, but she would not deny that with all her manipulation, she was telling the absolute truth.
~*~
“Lucius, I can feel you want to speak. Say it while I’m still awake to hear it. Please.”
She hadn’t expected to see her husband in their bed with her for many weeks following her conversation with Harry. Months, perhaps. But he was in bed the very first night, not saying a word, facing away from her. She knew, of course, that if he was there, it was he intended to talk. They knew each other too well to not know the each other’s ways, but still played the games by the rules. While Narcissa knew Lucius had come with the intention of discussion, he pretended that he had no such intention, and she pretended to believe it and try to convince him to speak to her. In the end, he would act as if he did it as a favour to her, and she would act grateful.
“You want to ask what was said, don’t you?” she asked when he didn’t respond. “What the verdict is?”
Lucius turned around at a lightning speed, sitting up in bed beside her. “No, dear, I do not,” he hissed. “What I would like to know more than anything else is how you could have gone and done that - disgraced our family like that - after I explicitly told you how I felt about it. I told you I could handle it, the way I handled it last time. Yet you still went, against my will.”
“I did what I had to do.” She sighed and sat up too, smoothing the covers on top of herself.
The sound that rumbled in his chest and made its way out of his mouth was something between a growl and a scoff. “Had to? Narcissa, we would have to fall miles lower than this to necessitate what you’ve done. And in my family, that has never happened.”
Her hands clutched the covers. She had been married to Lucius a long time. She knew how to be calm, how to take his anger and sarcasm and nullify it. And, looking at his shadowy profile, she could feel the fear and the humiliation that drove him to it this time. But she couldn’t ignore her own anger and hurt. She didn’t know whether he understood that it was equally hard on her. Her own anger and disappointment was bubbling inside her, and she was growing weary of holding it in.
“I am your family.” Her voice sounded strained. “In fact, Draco and I are the only family you have left. I have guaranteed our son a future. I may have kept you out of Azkaban so you can be with us. It was worth any humiliation or disgrace you believe this has brought.”
“Worth it? So would you like me to thank you for this, perhaps?” Lucius’s voice was getting more and more bitter. “You did not believe me capable of fixing this, did you? In fact, this is all my fault, really.”
“It’s not about placing bla -”
“Of course it is!” he spat. “It would be a lie if you told me you didn’t think about how this is all my fault, Narcissa. I joined Lord Voldemort, twice, though you begged me both times not to. I introduced Draco into their ranks, almost damning him for the rest of his existence. I made so many enemies in so many places that we found ourselves in a hole too deep to get out of after the war with no one to help. It was all me. You observed from the side-lines, Draco followed blindly, and I caused this.” Lucius punched the mattress suddenly, making Narcissa jump. “And now you had to beg. Beg Harry bloody Potter.”
Suddenly, Narcissa was on her knees beside him, turning him by the shoulders to face her roughly.
“Yes, well, Lucius, you did meddle things up. Ok? Happy? You’ve made mistakes, and if you hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here right now. But we would be somewhere else, and there is no knowing whether that place would be better or worse.” She could see him frown in the dark. “But that’s what people do, Lucius. They make mistakes. And you married me, so whether you like it or not, there’s two of us in this, and there has been for over twenty years, even though you’ve never quite learned how not to think for two. How to divide all your burdens.” She squeezed his shoulders tighter. “So you made mistakes and I could fix them, so I did. You were always too proud. That’s the way you are, but that’s not the way I am. I want my son to have a normal long life ahead of him. I want my husband by my side, hand-in-hand with me in old age and beyond. So if that was what I had to do, then there was nothing standing in my way. You don’t have to thank me, Lucius.”
“You are, I’m afraid, much more a Slytherin than I ever was,” he murmured, the anger barely apparent in his voice, and she smiled.
“Those cunning folks use any means to achieve their ends.”
That night, Lucius took her roughly and possessively. She had submitted gladly, knowing that he needed to be in control of something. Needed to prove and feel his strength. She knew her husband well enough, of course, to know that now that she had given him the means, he was going to build himself back up. Mend his wounded pride and renew his ambitions. Find again his strength and his confidence.
He had stumbled, and she was there to catch him and send him on his way again. She felt surprisingly fulfilled. When it came to Voldemort, she had always felt that she somehow failed to be strong for Lucius. That he joining the Dark Lord’s ranks was a stumble, and she wasn’t there to steady him on his feet then. She had watched him fall to the ground and get back up. She would never again stand by and watch.
When she had first married Lucius, she was terrified of undertaking the burden of such a magnificently prestigious and old family. She knew then that the Malfoys stood for something. There were ways they did things. There were customs, traditions, and values that had to be upheld. Now, she was a Malfoy herself, soon to be welcoming a new young lady into her family, and ensuring she kept up the family standards, too. But she could redefine the rules now. It was time for new standards, new traditions, and new values. It was time to change what it meant to be a Malfoy. She used to be a Black, and she never gave it up to become a Malfoy. She simply merged it.
Lying in her husband’s arms she felt relief. She was Narcissa Malfoy, previously Black, and once a Slytherin. She carried every single one of her titles with pride. She felt like she had now deserved them all. She had felt a momentary rush of disgrace and humiliation, but it was past now, and the Malfoy family lived on.