Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13338738.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Lucius_Malfoy/Narcissa_Black_Malfoy
  Character:
      Narcissa_Black_Malfoy, Lucius_Malfoy, Regulus_Black, Bellatrix_Black
      Lestrange, Sirius_Black, Lily_Evans_Potter, James_Potter, Remus_Lupin,
      Albus_Dumbledore, Peter_Pettigrew, Rodolphus_Lestrange, Rabastan
      Lestrange, Evan_Rosier
  Additional Tags:
      Past_Child_Abuse, Past_Sexual_Assault, Pureblood_Culture, Moral
      Ambiguity, Black_Family, Healing, Trauma, Eventual_Happy_Ending, Eventual
      James_Potter/Lily_Evans_Potter, Eventual_Sirius_Black/Remus_Lupin, First
      War_with_Voldemort, Horcrux_Hunting, Alternate_Universe_-_Canon
      Divergence
  Series:
      Part 1 of Where_You're_Planted
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-01-11 Updated: 2018-03-23 Chapters: 13/? Words: 22767
****** I'll Be Happier ******
by 13ishop
Summary
     Lucius Malfoy is hapless, French, and sometimes a criminal. Narcissa
     Black is ambitious, independent, and not yet out of Hogwarts.
     Together, they might just be happy.
     Or, Narcissa Malfoy grows a backbone years before that fateful day in
     the Forbidden Forest, and history changes.
Notes
     Creative license was taken while writing this fic with the Black
     Family, the government and society of the Wizarding World, and
     occasionally the laws of physics. It was written purely for my own
     entertainment, and posted because I like attention. This chapter
     discusses sexual assault. No details or description is given. If
     you've been affected by sexual assault, whether it happened to you or
     someone you know, the National Sexual Assault Telephone Hotline
     number is 800.656.4673 (I believe this only applies to those of you
     in the US) and the RAINN website also provides a lot of information
     and resources.
     Title from Happier by A Fine Frenzy, who plays Queenie in Fantastic
     Beasts and Where to Find Them on top of being an incredibly talented
     singer.
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Meet Cute *****
There's a blonde girl sprawled on the couch, smoking a Muggle cigarette and
playing with Evan Rosier’s hair. She's using the arm of the couch as a pillow
and she looks at him upside-down as he walks in. “You didn't say you had
handsome friends, Evan,” she scolds.
Evan makes a face at Lucius. “He’s French, Narcissa. Your aunt would die.”
The girl, Narcissa, waves the hand holding the cigarette dismissively. “Please.
That spiteful old hag will outlive us all.”
Evan doesn't dispute that. “Am I interrupting?” Lucius asks.
Narcissa sits up, shoving Evan off her lap while trying to pat the wild mass of
curls on her head into something calmer. “Not at all. I'm Narcissa Black.”
“Any relation to Bellatrix?” he wants to know, hoping not.
“I’m her younger, prettier sister,” Narcissa positively beams. “And you are?”
“Lucius Malfoy,” he says.”It’s a pleasure.”
It is not a pleasure. Evan is glaring at him, likely angry that Narcissa has
shifted her attention away from him, however temporarily. The Rosiers are
selling several items he’s interested in, so Lucius needs Evan in a good mood.
To make matters worse, now that he’s looking for it he can see the resemblance
between her and Bellatrix. Hopefully any similarities stopped there.
“Yes, it is, isn't it?” she looks at him archly.
Evan sits up too. “You’re incorrigible,” he decides.
She kisses his neck and throws her arms around his shoulders, legs over his. “I
would keep my wandering thoughts to myself if you married me,” she assures him.
He rests a hand on her throat. “Would you?”
She bites her lip to keep from grinning. “It might take some persuading.”
He lets her go. “My mother will never allow it.”
“We’re cousins,” Narcissa tells Lucius in a conspiratorial whisper, as if she’s
not actually in Evan’s lap and he can’t overhear everything she’s saying.
“So are your aunt and uncle,” Evan informs her.
Narcissa doesn't argue. She does, however, pout. “Is that why she doesn't like
me?”
“I should go,” Lucius says, as Narcissa straddles Evan.
They ignore him. “Or,” Narcissa says, “Does she have a problem with the fact
that I'm the youngest daughter of a second son?”
She blows smoke in Evan’s face and bounces off his lap and up to inspect
Lucius. “Come on, Ciss. You know it’s not like that,” Evan protests.
The expression Narcissa gives Lucius suggests otherwise. “So,” she says.
“You’re French.”
“No one’s perfect?” he says, feeling extraordinarily out of his depth and
unsure if he’s being insulted.
He’s probably being insulted. England is terrible and so are its inhabitants.
She considers this, sliding her hands down his chest. “I don't know,” she hooks
her hands into the waistband of his trousers. “I think you're exactly what I
want.”
“Narcissa,” Evan snaps, evidently running out of patience with her antics.
“You're fucking Antonia Burke,” she interrupts.
“I’m going to go,” Lucius decides.
“We both know we're never going to happen and she's from a good family. Marry
her and so you can yell at her instead,” Narcissa continues, ignoring him.
Evan tries to grab her, but she evades him, ducking behind Lucius. “Jumped up
bitch,” Evan snarls, wand pointed at Lucius, who is standing between him and
his target.
Narcissa peers out from behind Lucius long enough to curse Evan. It's
nonverbal, and Lucius doesn't recognize the putrid green color that shoots from
her wand. Evan collapses, legs no longer able to support him. His skin bubbles
green and his features and limbs twist in painful directions. Narcissa steps
out from behind Lucius and Evan’s motions pause. “Apologize,” she demands.
Her smile is predatory. Evan’s eyes are swollen shut, otherwise he might have,
at her expression. As it is, he spits out two teeth and an insult. Narcissa
raises her wand and his arms tie themselves in bow. The accompanying crunching
is horrible.
“Wow,” Lucius says. “That was, well. Wow.”
She smiles. “I did worse to Rabastan Lestrange.”
“That was you?” he asks, impressed.
His attraction to dangerous women will probably be the death of him one day.
She shrugs. “Two years ago at Bellatrix’s wedding, he cornered me in a
bathroom. I was wearing cursed earrings I had recently designed. They worked.”
“He's been to see Healers and Curse Breakers all over the world,” Lucius tells
her. Everyone in Britain knows about Rabastan Lestrange. “What exactly did the
curse do?”
“Nothing quite as exciting as Evan here,” she frowns down at the man. “But much
more permanent. He’s missing something quite essential to his habit of forcing
himself on unwilling women.”
“Couldn’t you press charges?” Lucius wants to know.
She shakes her head. “We were betrothed at the time, so the only thing he’s
legally guilty of is, what’s the expression? Leaping the gun? He’s also his
family’s heir, since Bellatrix and Rodolphus haven’t had any children. He would
get a slap on the wrist, if that. I’m the one who would get in trouble, since I
interfered with his ability to continue the family line.”
“That’s not right,” he declares.
“It isn’t,” she agrees. “However, I will never hear the end of it if Evan dies,
so if you’ll excuse me for a moment,” she turns to the man on the floor.
“You said you were betrothed to him. Are you still?” Lucius asks, watching as
she begins to undo the curse.
“I’m not betrothed to anyone. It seems as if all of the proper pureblood men
would rather take their chances with women who haven’t proven themselves to be
‘dangerously unstable,’” Narcissa tells him, as Evan’s arms untwist and the
green of his skin fades. “That’s a direct quote, by the way, from Evan’s
mother.”
“Well, I'm French,” he says, and winks, because pretty witches make him nervous
and he’s never been accused of having common sense. “That’s hardly proper.”
She smiles. “I’m hardly proper either.”
“No?” he asks, more than a little grateful she’d decided to disregard the wink.
She’s standing in front of him now, playing with his tie. “No,” she confirms.
“And I’ve had enough of pretending to be something I’m not, so if we’re going
to be friends, or anything else, you’re going to know about it.”
“I’m all ears,” he informs her, liking the sound of that.
“I associated with whoever I please. In whatever manner I please,” at this,
they both glance at Evan. “I want to get involved in politics myself. Not just
as a lord’s wife or mistress, whatever the case may be. I run a business, which
means I have my own source of income and therefore independence.”
“Really?” he's genuinely impressed. “What do you do?”
“I make jewelry with curses or protective charms,” she says. “Rabastan and the
earrings turned into a lot of publicity, and I started getting requests.”
“Want to get coffee sometime?” Lucius asks hopefully, “I’d be interested in
hearing more about that, and in seeing you again.”
Evan groans. Narcissa smiles. “Let’s go right now.”
They do. She grabs his arm the second they're outside Evan’s yard and they
disappear soundlessly. They reappear in the middle of the woods, outside a
small cottage. “Where are we?” he asks.
“My house,” Narcissa says. “I bought it a few months ago, with the money I've
made.”
Lucius grins at her. “Not that I'm complaining, but what happened to coffee?”
She swats his arm. “Shush. We’re Flooing.”
“What's your business like?” he asks, trailing after her. “My father owns a
company doing imports and exports.”
The cottage is covered in some sort of flowering vine and there's a small
garden containing common ingredients for Potions. Inside looks like a workroom.
There's a twin bed shoved into one corner, and a tiny bathroom. Every surface
is covered with scraps of metal and half formed jewelry. Complicated diagrams
are tacked to the walls. Lucius doesn't recognize many of the runes.
She turns to him apologetically. “It’s a bit of a mess.”
“It's phenomenal,” he corrects. “You’re brilliant.”
She doesn't blush, but she does direct a smile at him. “My family doesn't
know.”
“You should tell them. This is amazing.” He gestures at one of the diagrams.
“You’re an incredibly gifted witch.”
“I’m not good at playing socialite and all the Healers I've seen say I'll have
trouble carrying a child to term. That's all my family cares about.”
On that note, they Floo to a café in London. It's nowhere Lucius has ever been
before, and the amount of money he hands over for a simple latte is terrifying.
He buys Narcissa something called a dirty chai. “Is there alcohol in that?” he
asks, suspicious.
“Espresso,” she assures him, then gestures at the barista. “They know me and
that I'm underage.”
He almost chokes on his drink. “You're what?”
She eyes him strangely. “Don’t you know who I am?”
“Evan’s cousin?” he offers. “Bellatrix’s sister? Not really though. I went to
Durmstrang. I spend most of my time in Russia,” he shrugs. “Sorry.”
“Why are you here then?” she wants to know, then, bitterly, “If you don’t know
what I’m worth.”
“I like pretty pureblood girls?” he offers. “Especially ones that can curse a
guy like you.”
It's the right answer. She smiles again. There's a camera flash, but that's it,
because Narcissa gives the reporter such an unpleasant look he scurries away.
“We’ll be in the society pages, I'm afraid,” she says.
Lucius is startled. “Why?”
“My uncle, the Lord Black, has a gambling problem,” she waves a hand
dramatically. “But he cannot gamble with political power. The man that marries
me will receive a seat and a single vote in the Wizengamot. I’m a younger
daughter, I am afraid. Rodolphus gained two from Uncle Orion when he married
Bellatrix. She also received the vote that was contained in my mother’s dowry,
so that’s another for the Lestrange family.”
“How does that work?” he wants to know.
Narcissa appears pleased with his interest. “There are one hundred votes, or
seats, in the Wizengamot, which is the legislative branch of Britain's magical
government. The number of seats depends on the distribution of the votes, which
are inherited or gained through favors. They can also be purchased if a family
is in dire enough straits. That requires the consent of both the current
possessor of the vote and the person set to inherit it. The heir is the oldest
male of a generation and he receives half of a family's votes when he comes of
age. The rest are divided up amongst the female children when they are married
as part of their dowry.”
“Who’s the heir of your family?” he asks.
“My younger cousin, Regulus. His older brother was disowned, as was my sister,
Andromeda,” Narcissa explains. “My uncle has six votes, and my father had one,
so Regulus gets three votes from his father when Uncle Orion dies. Bella gets
two from our uncle and one from our father since she's the eldest, and I'm left
with one.”
“Disowned? What for? I've never heard of anyone being disowned,” he says,
fixating on that rather than the alarming amount of political power her family
possesses.
Narcissa raises her eyebrows. “Did I say disowned? The official story is that
they passed away tragically after a short illness,” she snorts. “My aunt
declared Sirius a blood traitor because he wouldn't take the Mark. Andromeda
ran off with a Muggle-born.”
“The Mark?” Lucius asks, feeling incredibly out of the know.
Now Narcissa frowns. “You don't have it? I assumed, since you were with Evan…”
she trails off. “You know my sister.”
“Not friends,” he corrects. “His family is selling some interesting
antiquities. I'm here on business. Bellatrix is an acquaintance.”
She nods, not questioning how well acquainted he might be with her sister. It
had been one night and it had been years ago. Not worth bringing up now. “Well,
have you heard of the up and coming new Dark Lord? He's all the rage amongst
certain circles here in England.”
Lucius shrugs. “I don't get involved in politics,” he confesses.
“You should. Don't you want to have some say in tariffs and the like?” she
inquires. “It would be very helpful for a future businessman to have political
connections.”
He makes a face. “Well…”
Narcissa grins. “A smuggler. I like you even more.”
“There are a lot of laws about transporting Dark artifacts,” he says
defensively.
“That’s what the Dark Lord is trying to get rid of,” Narcissa leans forward. “I
don't give a damn about blood purity, but Dark magic is my life and my
heritage. I won't stand for some jumped up do-gooder trying to outlaw it.”
“It's meant to be free,” Lucius agrees. “Magic shouldn't be restrained.”
“Exactly,” Narcissa exclaims.
***** Egypt *****
Chapter Notes
     Happy Friday! I think I'm going to try and update on Fridays. I have
     twelve chapters written, and the first eight of them edited. I
     updated the rating on this from mature to explicit, and this chapter
     is also where the 'Underage' content warning comes into play. Thank
     you for reading/commenting/leaving kudos!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
She’s right, as Lucius will come to discover she nearly always is. They’re in
the society pages. It’s just the picture the photographer had taken of them,
captioned with their names, the location, and the date. They're both smiling in
it. He looks terribly earnest and she looks amused. Their knees are brushing
under the table. They also make a gossip column in the Daily Prophet.
Miss Narcissa Black, 16, the youngest daughter of Cygnus and Druella Black, was
seen Thursday in the exclusive pureblood-only Toadstool Café with a handsome
blond stranger. Our sources tell us his name is Lucius Malfoy, 23, a merchant
class French wizard with questionable business ties. Could Black and Malfoy’s
relationship be the cause of the dissolution of her rumored engagement to Evan
Rosier, 28? Rosier was seen late Friday with one Miss Antonia Burke, 22. (More
about Rosier and Burke on page 6).
Other sources close to the Black family, who wish to remain anonymous for their
safety, suggest Narcissa Black’s involvement with Malfoy is motivated by the
family's recent financial troubles, though what could bankrupt such a wealthy
family remains unclear. It has also been suggested that Black’s marriage to
Malfoy would stabilize the Black family by providing a competent manager of the
family estates, something the past few generations of a family known for
incestous marriages and madness has failed to provide.
Malfoy attended Durmstrang. He graduated with honors in 1968, after which he
attended the Moscow School of Business and Wizarding Law. Malfoy dropped out
after three years for reasons we were unable to discover and has worked for his
father’s company, the Malfoy Trading Corporation (MTC) since. It should be
noted that there are currently two active lawsuits against MTC, one for
unethical business practices and another for the smuggling of certain Dark
items across international borders. MTC is thought to have a value of six
million Galleons, to which Malfoy is the sole heir.
“Huh,” says Lucius. “I look old in that picture. I guess it’s the hair.”
His hair is so blond it's almost white. It’s shoulder-length, and sometimes he
feels a little like one of the American founding fathers, minus the rollers.
And receding hairline. Come to think of it, it might just be just be his ego
talking. For Muggles, they had been fascinating.
“Incestous marriages,” quotes Narcissa, looking displeased.
It’s Monday morning. Lucius is sprawled in her bed, and she's absently
fidgeting with a bracelet. They've known each other for less than a week and,
despite what the Prophet and his current lounging in her bed suggest, they're
not sleeping together. “Well, at least we're not related?” he offers.
“I have to leave for class soon,” she says, and then, “That's true. I'm
surprised there wasn't anything in there about diversifying the bloodline in
order to produce healthier heirs, less sickly than Regulus and less prone to
violent fits than his mother.”
“I have a family history of alcoholism,” Lucius says.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Narcissa wants to know. “Or are you
warning me about our hypothetical future children? You ought to be telling the
papers, if so. Not me."
He shrugs. “I'm just saying. Your family might be a mess, but so is everyone
else's.”
“The Malfoy family secrets aren't available to every nosy housewife in the
country,” Narcissa mutters, but she seems a little lighter. “I’m sorry about
your family.”
“I survived,” he says. “And you will too.”
She nods. “That's what the Black family does. Now, I really do have to go to
class. I'm going to be late for Potions.”
“You could come lay down instead,” Lucius offers, rolling onto his side so
there's room.
Narcissa shrugs her robes on over her uniform and then joins him. They lie
facing each other. The bed is so small they're only separated by a few inches.
He carefully tugs her tie loose from around her neck, and it winds itself
around her wrists instead with a muttered incantation. He pushes her over, onto
her back and looks at her. She smiles. “What happened to your morales about
fucking underage witches?”
They had staggered back to her cottage Friday night, or perhaps early Saturday
after a night of drinking in a Muggle bar. She had been fumbling for her keys
while trying to undo the buttons on her blouse and he had been kissing her neck
and sliding his hands up under her shirt. The door had finally clicked open and
they had tumbled inside. He was at least eight inches taller than she was, and
she was far too tipsy to stay balanced on her toes while they made out. He had
finally flopped backward onto her bed, and she had climbed on top of him.
They were both shirtless and her fingers were curled in the waistband of his
trousers when the fog began to clear from their brains. “You're underage,” he
had murmured, pushing her away.
He slept on the floor.
Now she’s arching her back as she pulls against the tie. He is holding her
hands down firmly, and she smiles a little more every time she strains and
doesn't manage to budge. He gets on top of her then, and his free hand comes to
rest on her throat. “Can I?” he asks.
She nods quickly. “Please.”
“Say it again,” he says, kissing down her jawline.
She struggles against the tie and bucks her hips against his. “Please, Lucius.”
His fingers tighten around her throat and she tilts her head back, eyes sliding
shut. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispers, and bites her ear.
“Please don’t,” she gasps as he begins to grind against her. “Fuck, please.”
“You’re underage,” he tells her, letting her hands up. “And from a good family.
What would the papers say?”
The hand that isn't on her throat slides under her sweater, and his thumb
brushes over one of her nipples. Her body jerks sharply. She rests her hands
against his chest, and he watches the way her eyelids flutter when he rolls
that same nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Forget the papers and my
family,” she tells him, hands sliding down and fumbling with his belt.
He lets her go and sits up abruptly. “What about Potions?”
“You're a tease,” she informs him as she begins to straighten her clothing.
He shrugs. “I guess we'll just have to do this again sometime.”
“You know where I live,” she says. “You're welcome to stay here whenever you'd
like, by the way. I sleep at Hogwarts most weeknights so it's usually empty.
Just don't touch anything; there's some experimental stuff laying around.”
“Thank you. I'll drop by whenever I'm in England,” he promises. “I don't know
when the next time that'll be is.”
“I'm already looking forward to it,” she smiles and slips out the door.
She's gone when he looks out the window. He hadn't even heard her Apparate.
-------
He bounces from country to country, spends three weeks in an Italian prison
when he's found tangled in a border ward and in possession of three pounds of
uncut rubies on his way out of Switzerland, and keeps a careful eye on news
from Britain. Narcissa appears frequently, at balls, hosting gatherings with
her mother, as a bridesmaid in Evan Rosier and Antonia Burke’s wedding, on a
page detailing the honors roll at Hogwarts, and in her both her father and
uncle’s business dealings. It seems that neither Bellatrix nor her husband are
interested in managing Orion Black’s management of their wealth and Regulus
Black is only ten years old, so Narcissa has taken it upon herself to control
the family finances.
He has little doubt she's the one truly in control. Orion Black has disappeared
from notable gambling dens, if the people Lucius questions on the matter are to
be believed, only playing low-stakes poker with family friends. He's started
making interest payments on some of his debts, and for the first time in eight
years, Black business interests are turning a profit. Lucius suspects that
Narcissa has either drugged or Imperiused her uncle, and bribed her aunt into
complacence in order to accomplish her goals.
He's in Egypt, trying the wheedle a very elderly, very ill-tempered wizard out
of an amulet rumored to protect the wearer from the curses on tombs when he
receives a letter from her.
My dear Mr. Malfoy,
I was delighted to discover your presence in Egypt. It would please me greatly
if, while enjoying the lovely country, you paid a visit to one Ms. Marzouk, who
resides in Alexandria. The ring enclosed in this envelope will guide you to her
location, and serve as proof that I have sent you. She makes wonderful hibiscus
tea. A trip to Egypt would not be complete without having a cup. She will also
give you a package and I will pay you a sum of 100 Galleons if you are able to
bring me the package in a timely fashion i.e. at least a week before the summer
solstice. Please refrain from opening the package as it disrupt the Stasis
Charm on one of the items contained therein.
Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the British Solstice
celebration?
Fondly,
Miss Narcissa Black
It's two weeks until the summer solstice, and he's in Cairo. The crotchety
wizard is showing no signs of parting with the amulet, and his father thinks
he's here on vacation anyway, so not acquiring the amulet won't trigger a
lecture or a fit of rage. Lucius packs his bag, slips on the ring, and
disappears with a pop.
It takes him the better part of two days to track down Ms. Marzouk, who turns
out to be a middle-aged widow living in a magically expanded apartment crammed
floor to ceiling with shelves that are, in turn, stuffed with books and knick
knacks. She makes excellent tea, as Narcissa had promised, and he buys a book
on tomb protections and curses for her, as well as a pair of cufflinks
enchanted to always know the location of the wearer’s drink for his father who
cannot seem to keep track of a cup of coffee or a bottle of whiskey to save his
life.
A cat settles in his lap while he's politely making small talk with the woman,
and before he knows it it's been an hour and he has a recommendation on where
the have dinner and a standing invitation to return for tea whenever he wants.
He invites Ms. Marzouk to dinner with him, but she declines. “I think Miss
Black would not approve,” she tells him. “She is rather territorial.”
Whatever that means. He thanks her, and leaves after giving the cat’s ears a
final scratch. The restaurant she had suggested has a name he can’t pronounce,
but it's cheap and the food is amazing. Lucius eats as much as he can. He tips
handsomely and turns on the spot in the alley, reappearing on the Libyan
border. The problem with smuggling Dark artefacts and traveling around the
world rather than just between a few countries is crossing borders. They are
heavily warded to prevent Apparating into or out of the country unless you are
keyed into the wards, and even then they're alarmed to detect Dark magic.
This leads to Lucius spending an inordinate amount of time levitating and
contorting himself in order to squeeze through holes and gaps in the border
wards when possible, otherwise carefully unwinding strands of magic in order to
create his own path through. Occasionally, as the Italian incident showed, it
was a struggle. Happily, he and other smugglers frequented this area and holes
were common. Unhappily, so was law enforcement presence. A dark shape rises
from the bushes, commanding, “Halt!”
Other shapes appear, and Lucius catches the flash of badges and spells as he
dives through a gap made visible by a murmured incantation. He's safe from
Egyptian authorities now, and Apparates as one of the men waiting on the Libyan
side of the border makes a grab for him. He doesn't have any problems on his
way into Algeria, but the Moroccan border has been recently repaired and
strengthened, forcing him to work slowly and carefully to avoid tripping an
alarm.
He makes it through. Lucius is, after all, very good at what he does. Next, and
worst, he has to make it across the Strait of Gibraltar. It's several miles and
he has an unpleasant memory of his Conjured boat failing once, dumping him and
several thousand Galleons worth of merchandise into the water. Salt water tends
to erode the enchantments on objects. It had not been pretty. This time, he
Disillusions himself and a broomstick and flies. It's surprising calm, and he's
able to circumvent the Spanish wards entirely. From there, he slips into
France, flies across the English Channel, and Apparates to Narcissa’s cottage.
It had been raining over the channel and it’s raining here too, so he stands in
the small clearing, dripping slightly, and enjoying whatever climate control
charm she was using. A storm rages all around him, but it's sunny and humid in
the clearing. The door opens, and a boy sticks his head out. “Narcissa,” he
hollers. “You have a gentleman caller.”
Chapter End Notes
     Have a good weekend, everybody!
***** Not Just Stuff *****
Chapter Notes
     Hello, everyone. Happy Friday! The new semester has officially begun,
     and I would be buried under an avalanche of paper if not for the fact
     that most things are electronic now. Cheers!
     Mentions of child abuse in this chapter.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Narcissa appears, and beams when she sees Lucius. “You came!”
The boy dashes around her and bounces up to him. “I'm Regulus Black,” he says,
as imperiously as he can manage.
Lucius bows. “Heir Black, it's an honor.”
The boy grins. “Do you like Quidditch? Are you coming shopping with us? Do you
go to Hogwarts with Narcissa?”
“I played Chaser when I was in school,” Lucius tells the boy. “I graduated
several years ago though.”
“Awesome,” says Regulus. “I want to play Seeker when I go to Hogwarts.”
“I always admired Seekers the most,” Lucius tells him conspiratorially. “They
have the most important job.”
Regulus is so full of energy it looks like he's going to vibrate out of his
skin. “We should go broomstick shopping while we're getting my Hogwarts
supplies!” the boy exclaims.
Lucius glances at Narcissa, who is smiling fondly at the boy. “Lucius and I
have a bit of business to discuss first, but then if he isn't busy we can go to
Diagon Alley together.”
The boy crows triumphantly. “Let's get ice cream!”
He lets a Snitch go, and proceeds to chase it around the cottage on foot.
Narcissa gestures Lucius to join her inside. He hands her the package, and
offers her the book he'd bought, feeling a little foolish. “I thought you might
like this, if you could adapt some of the curses to jewelry.”
She smiles, scanning through the pages. “This is wonderful,” she tells him, and
hugs him.
Up close, the dark circles under her eyes are very apparent, as is the tension
in her shoulders and the tremor in her hands. That confirmed his theory as to
how she was controlling her uncle. The Imperius Curse caused the caster to
shake if they used it for an extended amount of time. He grasps her hands, and
sends her a pulse of magical energy. She's exhausted and drained, and, he
reminds himself, not quite seventeen. The full control of an Ancient and Most
Noble House was more than many adult wizards could handle.
“Thank you,” she tells him, and takes the package from him.
She sets it gently on the counter, and grabs her purse. “Ice cream?” he
inquires.
She nods. “Technically Hogwarts shopping, but Regulus has been through hell
with what's been going on with his brother.”
“Sirius,” Lucius says. “You said he'd been disowned.”
Narcissa nods grimly. “I convinced Walburga to change her mind, but he refused
to come back. She's been in a rage for months, and was taking it out on
Regulus. He's been staying with me for the past two weeks, since I found out.”
Lucius shakes his head. “I will never understand parents that hurt their
children.”
She sighs. “Me neither.”
They walk outside, just as Regulus pounces on the toy Snitch. Lucius whoops and
claps. “A phenomenal catch by Black,” he calls, to the boy’s delight.
“Are we going shopping?” he asks hopefully.
“We are,” says Narcissa. “First we're going to Gringotts. Remember to be very
polite to the goblins. Some day you'll work very closely with them to manage
the Black accounts and it will be much easier if they like you.”
She links arms with them, and they appear outside Gringotts, once through the
doors, Narcissa steers them to a back office. The goblin behind the desk eyes
Lucius with distrust, but his attention snaps back to Regulus when the boy
bows. “Hello, sir. I wish to travel to the Black monetary accounts for a
withdrawal for myself and my cousin’s school supplies.”
“Very well, Master Black. Will that be all?” the goblin inquires.
The boy nods. “I wish to transfer money from my personal account to the account
of Mr. Lucius Malfoy,” Narcissa says.
The goblin slides her a slip of paper, which she fills out briskly. Lucius is
alarmed to discover she used a Blood Quill, as he signs for the transaction as
well. “Thank you,” he tells her.
She nods, and they trail after Regulus and the goblin, who is being subjected
to the boy’s curiosity. They all endure a steady stream of questions until they
arrive at the Black monetary vault. Regulus turns imploring eyes to Narcissa.
“Please don't make me open the door,” he says. “It hurts.”
“Just this time,” she agrees. “You get used to it eventually though and it
won't be so bad.”
Regulus doesn't seem convinced, and watches, wide-eyed, as Narcissa pulls a
knife out of nowhere and slices her palm. “Do you remember how to draw the
rune?” she asks, offering Regulus her bloody hand.
He nods, and very serious dabs a rune onto the door to the vault. It slides
open, revealing more gold than Lucius knew existed. Narcissa counts out money
for herself, and instructs Regulus to collect five hundred Galleons for
himself. The goblin offers the boy a coin purse, which he gladly accepts.
-------
“Are you ready to go wand shopping?” Narcissa asks.
Regulus gives her hand, now bandaged, a guilty look. “I don't understand why
the knife has to be cursed,” he sulks.
She tucks her hand into her pocket. “I have a potion at home that'll fix it
right up,” she soothes.
He appears doubtful, but allows her to guide him to Ollivander’s. “Miss Black,”
the elderly wandmaker greets her. “Rosewood and phoenix feather, twelve inches.
Unyielding.”
Narcissa inclines her head. “Mr. Ollivander, it's a pleasure.”
Lucius attempts to look harmless when Ollivander frowns at him and says, “I
don't recognize this one.”
“Elm and dragon heartstring,” Lucius offers.
Ollivander makes a thoughtful noise and turns to Regulus. “You're the one here
shopping then, I presume.”
“Yes, sir,” Regulus responds.
He finds his wand on the fourth attempt. It's poplar and dragon heartstring,
and Regulus is thrilled. They have ice cream to celebrate, and it's then that a
reporter approaches them. “Miss Black, Miss Black,” he calls, a photographer
scurrying after him.
Narcissa, who had finally relaxed slightly and was watching with amusement as
Lucius and Regulus flicked a balled up napkin scrap back and forth, Lucius
narrating like it was a Quidditch match, looks cold again as she faces the
reporter. “Can I help you?” she inquires.
A camera bulb flashes. She does not look pleased. “Give us a statement about
the rumored sale of one of your family's seats in the Wizengamot,” the man
demands.
“It's just that,” Narcissa replies. “A rumor. The House of Black remains as
powerful and steadfast as ever.”
“If the sale goes through you'll lose the seat in your dowry, won't you? Will
that be the end of your engagement to Rabastan Lestrange?”
“I am not, nor will I be, engaged to Mr. Lestrange. None of my family's seats
are available and they never will be. Now, please leave before I report you for
harassment,” Narcissa turns away, and takes another bite of her ice cream.
It's a very clear dismissal, but the reporter hesitates. Lucius raises an
eyebrow. “You heard her,” he says silkily. “Leave.”
He hurries away. Regulus looks upset, glancing between them. “Mother says you
have to marry Mr. Lestrange,” he whispers. “She's going to be really mad at you
for saying you won't.”
“I’ll handle your mother,” Narcissa growls. “And I'll die before that pig of a
man lays a hand on me or my seat.”
“She’ll hurt you like she hurt Sirius,” Regulus frets. “When he said he
wouldn't meet You-Know-Who. She doesn't like when people tell her no.”
“How did your mother hurt Sirius?” Narcissa asks gently.
Regulus is agitated by now, twisting a napkin. “I'm don't know the spell,” he
whispers. “Sirius screamed and screamed.”
Lucius looks at the white face of Regulus and the shaking hands of Narcissa and
thinks some things run in the family. “Regulus,” says Narcissa. “I’ll be
seventeen in two weeks, so I could take custody of you then. Until then I think
Uncle Orion will let you stay with me. If I could do something so that you
didn't have to go back to your mother, would you like that? You would go to
Hogwarts, of course, but instead of going home you'd come live with me for the
summers.”
Regulus nods. “Will you hurt her?” he asks fearfully.
“I’ll have Uncle Orion commit her to St. Mungo's. They'll take care of her
there, and she won't be able to hurt anyone,” Narcissa assures him.
Regulus frowns. “Father will never agree to that.”
“You would be surprised,” Narcissa murmurs. “Now, enough of that. Let's get
books and Potions supplies and then look at Quidditch stuff.”
It works to distract Regulus. “It's not just stuff,” he exclaims, hurriedly
finishing his ice cream.
Lucius stands. “I’ll meet you outside Quality Quidditch Supplies?” he offers.
“I have some business in Knockturn Alley.”
Narcissa nods, and ruffles Regulus’s hair. “Looks like you're stuck with me,
which means robe shopping too.”
He squeaks indignantly, waves to Lucius, and trails after his cousin. Lucius
walks to his goal, a sleazy pub where the commercial district of Knockturn
turns into the residential district of another alley. Once inside, he locates
his target and throws the man into a wall. Several people scream. “Where's my
money, Dolohov?” he shouts.
Lucius occasionally encountered Antonin Dolohov on jobs. They ran in many of
the same circles, and performed many of the same services for many of the same
people. Prior to Lucius’s trip to Egypt, they had worked together on a small
job. Dolohov had done less than half of the work, and disappeared with the
entirety of the payment.
The big man groans. “Fuck off.”
Well, Lucius had asked. He drags the man to Malfoy Manor. The Manor is decrepit
and crumbling, more intimidation tactic that residence at this point. No one
has lived here for generations. The grounds are overgrown, but there's a
fountain with water still standing in it. Lucius drags Dolohov to it, and
sticks his head in. The man comes up sputtering, and spits, “Fine.”
Lucius cheerfully hands him a Gringotts transfer slip he'd grabbed while at the
bank with the Blacks. When Lucius receives confirmation of the transfer, he
dumps Dolohov at the bar and goes to find Narcissa. Unsurprisingly, she has
managed to find trouble again, this time in the form of Evan and Antonia
Rosier. She has one hand on her hip and is holding her wand in the other.
“Is there a problem?” he asks.
Chapter End Notes
     Have a good day! Thanks for reading!
***** The Solstice *****
Chapter Notes
     Happy Friday, everyone! I hope your week was better than mine, as I
     ended up with the flu? A severe cold? Something horrible, whatever it
     was. If you have any thoughts or opinions on Snape I would love to
     hear them. I hated him in canon, but I've read some fics where I
     really liked him. I'm torn as to what his role in this story should
     be, so let me know!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Evan glares. Regulus ducks behind Lucius. “Mrs. Rosier called Narcissa a
whore,” he informs Lucius.
Lucius looks at the offending Mrs. Rosier, who shrinks back. “Leave,” Narcissa
says.
They do, but not before Evan spits at her feet. “His father was a younger son,”
she informs Lucius. “And the heir of a family is the only male to receive votes
in the Wizengamot. Antonia didn't come with any votes either, so for all his
last name does for him, it'll never land him a government position.”
She looks pleased. Regulus shifts nervously. “Quit it,” Narcissa tells him
absently. “You'll be the Lord of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black one
day.”
Regulus stops shifting, and straightens up. “Yes, Narcissa.”
She smiles at him. “Let's go buy you a broom.”
He gets a Nimbus 1801, which is essentially the same as a Nimbus 1800 but with
more safety features after an unfortunate series of accidents several years
ago. Regulus is thrilled. “Can I fly it when we get home?”
Narcissa nods.
-------
The Solstice is something else. Narcissa had evidently gone robe shopping for
all of them while they had been in Diagon Alley, because he and Regulus have
been stuffed into airy silk robes and draped in silver chains and precious
stones. Regulus is wearing a ring that announces him as the Black Heir, and
looks uncomfortable but very rich in the forest green robes Narcissa has
dressed him in. Lucius’s own robes are navy blue with silver snakes embroidered
into them. The snakes twist and slither, their sapphire eyes following Regulus
as he paces. “My mother will be there,” he tells Lucius morosely.
“No, she won't,” Narcissa emerges from the small bathroom, and Lucius feels his
jaw drop when he sees her.
Her robes are silver, matching the brilliant gleam of her and Regulus’s eyes. A
silver snake curls around her arm, and Lucius is startled to see it breathe. It
raises its head and tastes the air as she approaches Lucius. Her honey blonde
hair is drawn up in a severe and elaborate bun, threads of spun silver pulled
through it. Her face is painted in the Black family pattern, just as Regulus’s
is. Three silver dots arched over each eyebrow, three curved under each eye,
and a wide line on her chin.
“She won't?” Regulus asks hopefully.
Narcissa frowns at Lucius and, with a flick of her wand, draws a horizontal
gray line on each of his cheeks. “She's in St. Mungo’s for an indeterminate
amount of time. A while, given that she keeps insulting the staff. We can visit
if you'd like.”
Regulus shakes his head emphatically. “No, thank you.”
Lucius peers into the mirror, eyeing the gray lines critically. “What do these
mean?”
“Non-noble,” Narcissa replies. “Hold still,” she dabs three silver dots above
his left eyebrow. “Those mean you're a guest of the Black family. If I'm busy
stick with Regulus. He knows what all of the patterns mean. Keep the Lestrange
brothers away from him.”
She grabs them, and they appear outside a grand building of creamy marble. She
locates her mother once they're inside. “Narcissa,” the woman coos.
Lucius examines her. She has Narcissa's blonde hair and pale skin, but her eyes
are warm and blue, a sharp contrast to Narcissa’s, whose are the silver typical
of the Black family. She has blue feathers painted on her cheeks, and three
silver dots above her right eyebrow. Regulus, Lucius imagines, is what the
typical Black looks like. Dark hair, olive skin, silver eyes. This is confirmed
when Orion and Cygnus Black appear. They're both drunk and loud. Narcissa
skillfully evades her father’s wandering hands, and she curtsies.
“My lord,” she murmurs, “Father.”
Lucius and Regulus hurriedly bow. “Good to see you,” Orion booms.
Narcissa's hands aren't shaking, Lucius notes, which means she's loosened her
grip on the man. Maybe not entirely, he decides, as Orion keeps a firm hold of
Cygnus’s arm and soon leads him away.
“Who's this?” Druella inquires, looking at Lucius and much more relaxed with
the departure of her husband.
“This is Lucius Malfoy, mother,” Narcissa says, waving a server over.
She puts a glass of champagne in her mother’s hand and Lucius’s, giving Regulus
what Lucius suspects is sparkling apple juice. Druella drains the glass.
“Malfoy? Is he French?”
“Yes, mother,” says Narcissa, helping herself to hors d'oeuvres and emptying
the entire dessert tray for Regulus.
Druella makes a disapproving noise. “Is he pureblood, at least?”
“Yes, mother,” Narcissa says. “His father is a very successful merchant.”
This gets Druella’s attention. “Is he? We should talk to your father about
arranging a marriage. Merlin knows no one of a proper class will take you after
that nonsense of an affair with Evan and how you treated poor Rabastan.”
Narcissa smiles demurely. “Yes, mother.”
Lucius was not surprised by what Druella was implying, and it made sense that
the high class wizards Narcissa would likely have been offered to wouldn't
appreciate her past. “I'm set to inherit my father’s business,” he offers.
“It's worth about six and a half million Galleons.”
Druella looks positively cheery at that. “Let me find my husband,” she tells
him. “We can sign the papers tonight.”
As soon as she's gone, Regulus perks up. “You should get married,” he says
around a mouthful of pastry.
Narcissa looks sour. “Ignore my family,” she says.
“What if I don't want to?” Lucius asks.
She pauses. “You'd want to marry me? I don't have much money and I'm not a
virgin.”
“Gross,” Regulus mutters.
He's ignored. Lucius shrugs. “I don't care. You're brilliant and beautiful.”
“I might never be able to have children,” she warns.
“We could adopt if you wanted them?” Lucius asks.
“I'm keeping my own finances and the Wizengamot seat,” she tries.
“Sounds good,” Lucius tells her
She eyes him suspiciously. “Okay.”
As far as proposals go it hadn't been particularly romantic, but marriage
rarely was with purebloods. Lucius made a mental note to write his father and
inform him of recent developments. Not that the old man cared. Lucius watches
Narcissa slip away, eyes locked on someone toward the edge of the room. It was
Bellatrix. The eldest Black sister had a band of rust colored triangles painted
across her forehead in addition to the familiar silver pattern, which he
assumed meant she was married to a Lestrange. Regulus follows his gaze and
shivers. “Don't catch her attention,” he warns Lucius. “She's like Narcissa but
loud scary instead of sneaky scary.”
Lucius nodded. “I've met her,” he tells Regulus. “What do you think they're
talking about?”
“You, probably,” Regulus says.
“Me?” Lucius demands, suddenly alarmed. “Why?”
“Narcissa is probably telling Bella not to worry about you since you don't hurt
her. If you did they might kill you after the wedding so Narcissa would have
the legal rights of a widow but wouldn't have to deal with you,” he pauses
thoughtfully. “They might be talking about Uncle Cygnus too. He wasn't very
nice to them growing up, and I think they're planning something.”
Lucius frowns at the boy. “I would never hurt Narcissa,” he promises.
Regulus nods. “I know. Narcissa always says you can tell if people are nice by
how they treat the people they don't have anything to gain from, and you're
nice to me even though I'm in your way.”
“You're not in my way,” he tells Regulus.
The boy disagrees. “I'm staying with her, and so are you, but you can't do
anything with her since I'm there.”
“I've known Narcissa for months and we've never done anything,” Lucius assures
him.
Regulus frowns. “Why not? You like her, and she already has a bad reputation
because of Mr. Rosier and Mr. Lestrange.”
Lucius decides not to answer the boy’s question on the grounds that he's
eleven. They both look back at Narcissa, who touches Bellatrix’s arm, scans the
room, and sets off toward her father and uncle. Bellatrix watches her go,
murmurs something under her breath that causes her husband to appear, and drags
him out a side door.
“Why did Andromeda run away with a Muggle-born?” Lucius asks.
Regulus shrugs. “Same reason Narcissa is marrying you. Same reason Bella took
the Mark. Same reason Sirius made friends with James Potter. She saw a way out.
Can you keep a secret?”
He nods, studying the nervous way the boy spins the Black ring. “I won't tell
anyone.”
“None of our parents are very nice,” Regulus begins quietly. “My father was
never home much and he gambled a lot. And my mother takes our family name very
seriously. I asked why Muggle women wore pants once, and she locked me in my
room for three days with no food,” he recalls. “Uncle Cygnus is worse though.
At least with my mother she wouldn't hurt you if you did everything she wanted.
He's different. And Aunt Druella just ignores everything.”
Lucius feels cold. “Is that why you think they're planning something? Because
Cygnus hurt them?”
Regulus nods. “And they want control of the family finances and Wizengamot
seats. Narcissa does, anyway. I think Bella just wants away from Lord
Lestrange. He wasn't very nice to her either.”
“Wasn't?” Lucius prompts.
The boy shrugs. “My father used to gamble and let my mother do whatever she
wanted. Now he does what Narcissa wants. I think Bella does the same thing to
make Lord Lestrange be nice.”
“Does it bother you that Narcissa wants the family power for herself?” Lucius
inquires.
“No,” Regulus says firmly, then lowers his voice. “I don't want anything to do
with it. I want to be a Healer for children. I won't ever ignore it when
someone comes in with bruises or burns from a cigarette just because their
family has money.”
Lucius waves a server over and offers Regulus a pastry. “I'll make sure nothing
bad happens to you or Narcissa.”
Regulus looks sad. “That’s a nice sentiment, but you shouldn't make promises
you might not keep.”
Chapter End Notes
     Thanks for reading! Have a good day!
***** (Probably) Patricide *****
Chapter Notes
     TGIF though, right? This week was crazy and I'm exhausted. This
     chapter is also super short, which I did not realize. I had been
     writing everything in the same Google doc until it got touchy about
     loading, so I split things up and not everything ended up even. I'm
     considering making this a series and uploading one-shots that are
     like, snapshots of what Narcissa is up to while Lucius does his
     thing.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Narcissa rejoins them several hours later, as it's getting dark and the bonfire
is starting. Lucius is relieved. Regulus, when not distracted by Quidditch, is
very serious for an eleven year old. Lucius is not equipped to handle some of
the boy’s thoughts and questions. Bellatrix is nowhere in sight, another cause
for relief. Narcissa has a sheaf of papers. “The marriage contract,” she
explains.
He reads it. There are clauses specifying that no children are required to come
from their relationship, that she maintains the ability to control her own
finances, that she can have a career. There's nothing in it saying Lucius has
to do anything, it's all about making sure he can't force her to become her
mother, he suspects. “Looks good,” he tells her.
“The wedding will be after I graduate,” she informs him.
He nods, and holds her hand for the rest of the night. It's cut short by the
discovery of Cygnus Black’s body, hung in a bathroom stall. The Aurors take
statements from the tearful Black sisters, and Druella collapses when she hears
the news. It's decided that Rodolphus Lestrange must be to blame, as he has
disappeared and a smudge of paint on Cygnus’s hand matches the Lestrange
colors.
-------
Love and Loss in the Black Family
It's been a dramatic week for the Black family! Miss Narcissa Black caused
quite the scandal when she agreed to marry one Mr. Lucius Malfoy. That's right
ladies and gentlemen, the same Malfoy she has been spotted with on numerous
occasions. What could have inspired the young Miss Black to marry a merchant
class French man seven years her senior? It couldn't have been the death of her
father, Mr. Cygnus Black, 53, who was found dead at the exclusive British
Solstice Celebration, apparently moments after Mr. Malfoy and Miss Black signed
their marriage contract. Sources report that their wedding will be some time
during the summer after Miss Black finishes her final year at Hogwarts.
Perhaps the most shocking part of the night, however, was the warrant the
Department of Magical Law Enforcement issued in regards to Mr. Black’s death.
Lord Rodolphus Lestrange, husband of Lady Bellatrix Lestrange née Black, is the
main suspect in Mr. Black’s death! Lestrange has not been located as of this
article’s printing. Anyone with information on Lestrange’s whereabouts is
encouraged to owl the Violent Crimes unit of the DMLE.
-------
It's Narcissa’s seventeenth birthday and she, Lucius, and Regulus are having
breakfast on her porch. “I can't believe you're a real adult,” says Regulus,
mouth stuffed with toast.
Narcissa makes a noncommittal noise. She's going through the day’s post, and is
frowning at a long letter from Bellatrix. “They haven't caught Rodolphus,” she
says. “And Rabastan is refusing to cooperate in locating him.”
“Is that good?” Lucius wants to know, also around a piece of toast.
“He’ll have lost his right to hold a seat in the Wizengamot,” she says. “Which
means Bellatrix has the vote from father and will inherit two from Uncle Orion
when he dies. She also has two from Rodolphus since he's now considered a
felon. She's signing the seats over to me as of today, and father’s will be
mine and active immediately due to his unfortunate passing, as will the seats
from Rodolphus. I’ll get an owl when it's official.”
“She's signing them over?” Regulus demands. “Why?”
Narcissa shrugs. “She wants to devote her life to the Dark Lord. He has very
little use for politics, and encourages his followers to feel likewise.”
“Do you want to join the Dark Lord?” Regulus wants to know.
Narcissa shakes her head. “I refuse to be the property of a madman.”
“I thought you supported him?” Lucius asks, surprised.
“I do, on certain topics. If Bellatrix asks, I'll vote whatever way he desires.
I will not give him my life and freedom, especially since it would be more
effective to threaten and bribe the Wizengamot to enact the changes he wishes
to see rather than attempting to overthrow the entire government. I also
believe that blood purism is complete nonsense. Look at Lily Evans. Muggle-
born, but brilliant. Then look at Evan Rosier. He's an idiot,” she has
apparently thought about this quite a bit.
Lucius nods thoughtfully. “Will you vote a certain way on tariffs or laws if I
ask you?” he wants to know.
She nods, then turns to Regulus. “You will, of course, be accompanying me to
meetings of the Wizengamot. Your father has appointed me as his proxy in light
of his recent decision to flee the country.”
Lucius doesn’t blame the man. He suspects that Orion had briefly shaken free of
Narcissa’s Imperius, seen the direction the wind was blowing, and fled.
“Do I have to?” Regulus asks. “I don't want the votes. I want to be a Healer
and help people, not sit around arguing about the number of bristles on a
broomstick.”
Narcissa looks pleased. “If you still feel that way when you turn seventeen you
can sign the votes over.”
“I agree with you about everything anyway,” Regulus points out. “I'd rather you
sat with all of those stuffy old men.”
“You and me both,” Lucius tells the boy.
Narcissa gives them both a fond smile. “I don't understand your distaste for
politics,” she informs them, “But I'm grateful.”
Lucius fidgets. “I kind of have a surprise for you. It's not much right now,
but with some work…” he trails off.
“What is it?” she asks. “You agreed to marry me, which saves me at least a
decade of harassment from my mother and younger sons of lesser pureblood
families. That's the best gift I could have hoped for.”
“Is it a broom?” Regulus sounds hopeful.
“Well,” Lucius says, “It includes a very rundown Quidditch Pitch.”
They both look confused. “What?” Narcissa asks.
“It's my family's ancestral home. No one has lived there in ages, but I had
someone look at it and it's structurally sound,” he says this very fast.
“Can we go see? I want to see the Quidditch Pitch,” Regulus is quivering with
excitement.
“If Narcissa says it's okay,” Lucius tells him. “I went through everything
myself. There's no curses left, just the outer wards and they're very worn.”
Narcissa finishes her toast in two bites and her tea in a gulp. It's very
unladylike, and Lucius brushes a crumb off her face. “You're the best,” he
informs her.
“Let's go,” she says.
Chapter End Notes
     Have an awesome weekend! (Personally I'm going to sleep like 14 hours
     straight, and maybe study. Never let anyone tell you college is going
     to be easy.)
***** Malfoy Manor *****
Chapter Notes
     Bonus update! AKA I am procrastinating.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
He grabs their arms and they appear outside Malfoy Manor. Lucius is
uncomfortably aware of how shabby it appears. Once grand, the Manor is in a
state of extreme disrepair. They walk up the drive, past the fountain he had
dunked Dolohov in, and to the main entrance. One of the large oaken doors hangs
at an angle. “Welcome home,” Lucius quips nervously, pulling the door open.
The interior is moldy. There's water damage, and the wallpaper is peeling. The
entrance hall has a door leading to a coatroom on the left, a sitting room on
the right, and a large, crumbling staircase to the second floor in the center.
Behind the stairs is the kitchen, with the door to a guest wing on the right,
and the door to what Lucius thinks might be quarters for servants on the left.
Narcissa wanders from room to room with a Conjured parchment and quill, making
notes to herself. Lucius and Regulus trail after her.
On the second floor there's a ballroom, a formal dining room, a bathroom, and
three rooms for various types of entertaining. “One room for cards, a sitting
room for the men, and a sitting room for women,” Narcissa explains.
The third floor contains an immense, dusty library and a series of rooms
intended as offices. Regulus accidentally discovers that one of the rooms
contains a secret room behind it when he leans against a shelf. “Wicked,” he
declares.
The fourth floor is the family’s living area. It contains a large sitting area,
a collection of bedrooms to the left, and the master bedroom to the right.
There's an owlery, and an attic too, full of musty furniture and faded
paintings. “We’ll need at least two house elves,” Narcissa remarks. “And this
place is not going to attract them.”
House elves chose to permanently bind themselves to a family, Lucius recalls.
They worked for, but were not bound to their mother’s family until they were
fully grown. Then they set out on their own to look for a family, or performed
a ritual to bind themselves to their mother's family. She was right. House
elves prefered well established households where they would be comfortable.
“I can start making repairs,” Lucius offers.
Narcissa shakes her head. “To the wards, yes. Don't worry about the physical
aspects. I'll handle it.”
“The Quidditch Pitch?” Regulus asks hopefully.
“Let's see the grounds then,” Narcissa sighs.
They go to the Quidditch Pitch first. One of the hoops has snapped in half, and
the grass is severely overgrown, but other than that it isn't in terrible
shape. While Regulus is marvelling at the ancient brooms he dug out of the
broomshed, Lucius pulls Narcissa aside. “Is this okay?” he asks anxiously. “I
know it's a lot and you've got your own place already. If it's going to be too
expensive or hard to fix we can just leave it.”
Narcissa pats his arm. She's usually uncomfortable initiating physical contact,
so this is a big gesture. “I love it,” she tells him. “And it won't be too
expensive. I’m good with physical magic. All I need are the raw materials to
work with, that way the work I do will be long-lasting. The wards would be
expensive, but I expect you can manage those better than most professionals.”
Lucius puffs up a little. “How much do you want to spend?” he asks.
She studies her parchment. “A million, maybe a little more. That's just a rough
estimate. I'd have to see the rest of the grounds to be precise.”
“A what?” Lucius asks faintly.
She eyes him. “I can cover it. Uncle Orion won't question it, and Regulus will
be fine with it. I'm hoping to make it back in two years once I've turned the
Black business interests around.”
“Isn't your family having money trouble?” Lucius wants to know.
Now she shrugs. “Our current liquid assets total around two and a half millions
Galleons. Our family net worth is close to eight million Galleons. It was much
more before my parents’ and their parents’ generations made some questionable
decisions.”
Lucius interprets this to mean that the Blacks are still obscenely wealthy by
normal standards, but worryingly poor by their own reckoning. “My father spends
everything that doesn't go back into the business,” he confesses. “I have about
ten thousand Galleons of my own from side jobs, but that's it.”
She shrugs again. “When you inherit, what kind of annual profit will you be
looking at?”
“About a million Galleons,” Lucius says. “We make three, but two are put back
into the company. What are the Black business interests?”
“Mostly tea,” Narcissa replies. “We act as a wholesaler for the most part, but
there's four cafés. We went to one, remember?”
“I do,” Lucius says. “Is it really all tea though? What if there's a bad crop?”
“Then there's a bad crop,” she tells him. “And we don't throw a Yule ball that
year.”
“That's terrifying,” he decides.
She agrees, and Regulus bounces back to them. “This is awesome,” he declares.
“What else is there?”
They walk. Lucius points out a forest, where a protected strain of Bowtruckle
lives, an area meant for a vegetable garden, an area meant for Potions
ingredients, an expansive flower garden complete with overgrown paths, an
orchard full of various fruit trees, and the remaining grounds for strolling.
“This is going to be boring,” Narcissa warns Regulus, and then she turns to
Lucius. “What do you think of a marble facade? It would be white.”
They go back through the Manor in painstaking detail. Every from the design of
the rugs to the color of the drapes is decided. Regulus gets to pick and design
his own room, which he likes. He goes with a brilliant shade of green for the
walls, and asks for posters of several famous seekers. Lucius claims the office
with a secret room for his own, and Narcissa selects the one next to it,
closest to the library. “This will be for the Black business,” she decides.
The office on the other side of Lucius's is slated to be for her own jewelry
cursing and crafting business. The master bedroom is a point of contention.
Narcissa claims not to care. Lucius insists that it's as much her space as it
is his, and that she should be comfortable. “What did you want when you were a
little girl?” he finally asks.
He knew what he'd wanted when he was younger. He had decided very early on that
he would be a kind husband and an attentive father. He would take his son to
Quidditch matches, and play with him too. He'd let his wife eat what she wanted
and dress as she pleased and have whatever sort of friends she wanted, and if
she didn't want children of her own they could adopt. During his teenage years
Lucius used to imagine falling asleep next to a woman he loved. The imagined
weight and warmth of another body beside his was comfortable. In the morning
they would wake up in an airy and light bedroom, with sunlight streaming
through the windows. They would laugh a lot, ruffle their son’s hair, and be
rich enough that they would only work when they wanted. Lucius tells Narcissa
all of this very earnestly and against his better judgement.
She sits on the floor, kicking up a puff of dust from the carpet. He's alarmed
to observe that she's crying. He looks desperately at Regulus, who looks just
as panicked. He sits down next to her. “It's okay,” he says. “Everything will
be okay. Can I hug you?”
She shakes her head, so Lucius scoots away from her in order to give her more
space. The most alarming part of all of this, he decides, is that she doesn't
make any noise when she cries. “You're safe,” Lucius tries. “I won't let anyone
hurt you.”
Faster breathing. More tears. Lucius thinks that's probably bad. “You're the
most amazing woman I've ever met and I'm happy I'm going to spend the rest of
my life with you because no matter how good what I imagined was, you're
better,” he offers.
She buries her face in her arms. Right. “Let's not worry about this room right
now,” Lucius decides. “Let's go home.”
He and Regulus sit outside Narcissa's cottage, watching the sunset. “Does this
happen often?” he asks Regulus.
The boy shrugs. “Not really. Not around me. I think it was just a lot to take
in, and Uncle Cygnus died last week, and the idea of being married probably
scares her.”
“Why?” Lucius wants to know. “I won't hurt her or try to control her. I want
her to be happy.”
Regulus nods wisely. “And she knows that. Sometimes bad things happen to people
though and they feel afraid afterwards, even if that bad thing isn't happening
anymore. Sirius wrote to me,” he adds. “He’s staying with the Potters. Dorea
Potter was a Black. Anyway, he says she's the nicest woman he's ever met, but
sometimes when he does something mother wouldn't have liked he freezes and
panics and expects Mrs. Potter to curse him. I think it's like that with
Narcissa and you.”
Lucius looks at him. “How did you get so smart?”
“I’m the youngest,” Regulus explains. “Everyone else was all grown up, and they
forgot I wasn't.”
“Do you feel like Sirius feels around Mrs. Potter when you're with me and
Narcissa?” Lucius inquires.
Regulus nods. “A little. Only when I get excited and forget my manners though.
Mother was too busy fighting with Sirius most of the time to punish me for
everything I did wrong, so she only hurt me if I really messed up.”
“I won't hurt you, and neither will Narcissa. No matter how badly you mess up,”
Lucius assures him.
“I know,” the boy says. “It's just that, even though I know that, I keep
expecting something bad to happen. Sirius says that it really hurts Mrs.
Potter’s feelings when he flinches or won't hug her, but he can't make himself
not do that because if he ever did relax and she hit him or cursed him it would
hurt even more because he trusted her.”
“But she won't hurt him,” Lucius argues.
“But she could,” Regulus insists. “And it'll hurt less if he expects it.”
This doesn't make sense to Lucius, but he quits arguing. “Do you think that
feeling will ever go away?”
Regulus shrugs. “I hope so.”
Chapter End Notes
     Thanks for reading!
***** September 1st *****
Chapter Notes
     You get to meet Sirius! I'm excited. Hope you enjoy! Thank you to
     everyone who has commented or left kudos! It makes me smile.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Narcissa makes no mention of her previous distress, so Lucius doesn't either.
They fix the Quidditch Pitch first, so Regulus has something to do while they
make repairs to Malfoy Manor. There's a month and a half before the school year
starts, and Lucius is determined to have made a significant amount of progress
before then. Regulus has friends over, several of whom have nannies, so the
Quidditch Pitch is not unsupervised. Narcissa is working on making Regulus’s
bedroom habitable, and Lucius is at work on the outer wards.
It's a difficult task. The Manor was last inhabited in the 18th century, and
without a continued family presence the wards had decayed quickly. He has
already established the thinnest possible layer of everything important, from a
Muggle repelling charm, to standard privacy wards, to wards that required you
to either be keyed into them or enter through the front gate. Now all that was
left to do was thickening them by pouring power into them, and possibly adding
more complicated and malicious defenses. He decides to take a break for a
snack. His magic is as exhausted as he's willing to allow it to get, and he
could use a cup of tea. There's also cookies, to his delight. Narcissa is a
talented baker and a passable chef. He'd taken one bite of a cookie and begged
her to teach him.
He takes a cup of tea and two cookies up to her. Regulus’s room is almost done.
She's just putting the finishing touches on some of the furniture. “How's it
going?” he inquires.
“Very green,” she replies, which is fair.
Regulus will be thrilled. Narcissa has chosen a light wood for the furniture
and accents, which balances out when combined with the color of the walls. One
of the posters scowls at them. A glint of gold catches his eye. “A snitch?” he
asks.
She nods. “It's charmed to move around. I thought he might like it. It's
probably childish,” she looks embarrassed.
“I would have loved it at his age,” Lucius tells her. “I'd love it now,
honestly.”
She smiles hopefully. “You think? I just feel like I took him away from his
parents because I thought I could take better care of him but now he sleeps on
my floor and basically lives off of toast.”
“He's a lot happier,” Lucius assures her. “We talked about it. He says he's
only afraid now because he thinks something bad will happen to wreck this.”
“It won't,” Narcissa says fiercely. “I won't let anything bad happen to him.
He's suffered enough.”
“So have you,” he tells her. “Which I wanted to talk about. Do you want your
own room? I can sleep in one of the bedrooms by Regulus's or in a guest room
downstairs if it would make you more comfortable. You can ward and curse your
room. We also don't have to do anything. And I mean that.”
He thinks he probably looks as uncomfortable as she does. “Thank you,” she says
finally. “I...thank you.”
They sit in silence, munching cookies. “Can I have a dragon on my wall?” he
asks.
He's rewarded with a weak smile. “I can probably manage that.”
Lucius picks the room furthest from the master bedroom, all the way at the end
of the hall. It's on the corner, so there's four windows instead of two. He
tells Narcissa what he wants, and she makes it a reality. “Don't tell Regulus,
but I like your green better,” Narcissa tells him.
Lucius has picked a sage color for the walls, and white for his furniture. It
looks very clean. He insists on gauzy curtains and a very light, silky bed
canopy. Then he opens all of the windows and watches everything blow around.
Narcissa is carefully painting the dragon he'd asked for. It's a Norwegian
Ridgeback about the size of his palm, and it breathes fire. She adds a forest
and some mountains above the dresser. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “This is
perfect.”
“The forest is a self-sustaining ecosystem,” she says, sounding pleased. “It
doesn't look like much now, but with a bit of time it’ll spread. Eventually
this whole room will turn into a world of its own.”
“Can I hug you?” he asks.
This time she says yes.
-------
The Manor is habitable by the time September 1st rolls around. Narcissa had
taken to devoting every third day to her jewelry, and the rest of the time
either threatening Ministry officials or doing paperwork. Lucius isn’t sure
which she enjoys more. He had talked his father into signing the Malfoy Trading
Corporation over to him, with the promise of an allowance to sustain a
luxurious, though slightly more conservative lifestyle than the old man was
accustomed to. There had been some very illegal potions involved in this
persuasion, and Lucius found himself incredibly busy.
So busy, in fact, that he hadn’t realized that it was September 1st until
Regulus races into his office. “What are you doing?” the boy demands. “We’re
going to be late! What if I miss the train? What if they kick me out before I
even get there?”
Lucius blinks at him, then at the letter from the company’s lawyer regarding a
(miraculously) unfounded lawsuit against the company. “What time is it?”
“Ten!” Regulus wails, and zooms away.
He almost knocks Narcissa over in his haste to leave. “Easy there,” she grabs
his shoulder, steadying herself. “Are you packed?”
He nods vigorously, so she releases him to continue his mad dash about the
manor.
Lucius sighs, looking forlornly at the five empty tea cups on his desk. “I
remember when I was that excited about classes starting,” Narcissa remarks,
settling precariously on the arm of a chair. The seat was covered in a mound of
papers.
“Because you’re so ancient, at the ripe old age of seventeen?” Lucius teases.
He’s treated to a smile that fades into a look of worry. “Did you sleep?” she
asks.
Lucius opens his mouth to lie, but closes it when she raises an eyebrow. “I
might have dozed off at some point?” he offers weakly.
Narcissa is not impressed. “I’ll make coffee. I already fed Regulus and he
doesn’t need caffeine.”
“The enviable energy of youth,” Lucius stands, and winces.
She actually rolls her eyes. “Going to be alright there, old man?”
He trails after her as she heads for the kitchen. “Just you wait, young lady,”
he tells her primly. “When you’re my age you’ll know what I’m feeling.”
The kitchen is a warm butter yellow, with white quartz countertops Narcissa
insists are the secret to excellent food. Evidently quartz holds magic well,
and it develops a sort of muscle memory if it’s used for the same purpose
repeatedly. Narcissa has a lot of ideas Lucius isn’t sure are provable. She
refuses to have an argument in the same place twice on the grounds that it will
attach a bad feeling to the place. She also won’t allow Ministry officials or
any of the Dark Lord’s followers onto the property, insisting that they’ll
contaminate it.
He doesn’t realize he’s spaced out until she waves a cup of coffee literally
under his nose. “Good morning,” she says when his eyes focus.
“Right. Thank you,” Lucius chugs the cup of coffee which is really a waste,
because Narcissa makes excellent coffee.
She ducks under his arm and leans into his side. “You’re allowed to take a
break every now and then,” she tells his armpit.
“You don’t,” he points out.
“I haven’t pulled an all-nighter since OWLs,” she informs him primly.
“Can I touch you?” Lucius asks, wrapping his arms around her when he receives
confirmation. “I meant to get some sleep. I just lost track of time.”
She looks up at him and wrinkles her nose. “You’ve got coffee breath. Also,
I’ll send you a Howler every night to remind you to sleep if I have to.”
He gives her a squeeze. “I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll be home most weekends,” she assures him. “I can’t run everything from my
dorm.”
Regulus bounds in. “Gross,” he informs them. “Also, it’s 10:30. Can we go? What
if I’m sorted into Gryffindor? Or Hufflepuff? What if all of the professors
hate me? Or everyone knows mother is mad? Or about father’s gambling? Or I’m
bad at everything? What if I can’t make friends? What if I’m a Squib?”
Lucius lets Narcissa go so she can face Regulus, eyes serious. “Toujours pur,”
she says. “Does not just apply to our blood. It applies to us in our entirety.
No one can take that from you. You’re a Black, no matter what happens, and
that’s something to be proud of. It doesn’t matter what House you’re in, or
what anyone thinks.”
Regulus is probably trying to look brave when he repeats, “Toujours pur.”
“Remember that. If anyone bothers you, let me know. I’ll take care of them,”
she says, then looks at Lucius. “Any start of the year wisdom from you?” she
wants to know.
“Don’t skip breakfast, it’s the most important meal of the day. And if you’re
going to break the rules, break them well enough that you don’t get caught,”
Lucius says, feeling incredibly inadequate. He was so not ready for parenthood.
“You already know all of the pureblood boys in your year,” Narcissa adds. “But
don’t be afraid to befriend half-bloods or Muggle-borns.”
Regulus looks briefly scandalized. “Muggle-borns?”
“They’re wizards too,” Narcissa points out. “And they often have a fascinating
view of magic since they weren’t raised with it. Now, we really will be late if
we don’t leave soon, and then you’ll miss the candy trolley.”
They collect their trunks and Apparate onto Platform 9 ¾. Regulus does his best
to look regal when he hugs Lucius, and then Narcissa even though she points out
that they’ll see each other on a daily basis. He catches sight of a boy he
knows, Nott maybe? Lucius isn’t sure, but Regulus hurries off to join him in
his search for a compartment.
“So this is the famous Hogwarts Express,” Lucius remarks, eyeing the engine’s
startling shade of scarlet.
“Not as impressive as you’d hoped?” Narcissa asks.
He shakes his head. “It’s beautiful. I just can’t imagine convincing a hundred
eleven year olds to behave for an entire day’s train ride.”
“I’m convinced there’s sedatives in the candy the trolley lady sells,” she
shrugs. “It’s the only way.”
Lucius laughs at that. “You have such faith.”
She smiles up at him. “Oh, hush. You should visit for a weekend at Hogsmeade.
I’ll sneak you into the castle and give you a tour. We could go to Madam
Puddifoot’s too.”
He’s instantly suspicious of the gleam in her eyes. “Madam what’s?”
She kisses him instead of answering, and Lucius hears a camera flash. He finds
that he doesn’t really care. They only break apart when someone clears their
throat. “Am I interrupting?”
Lucius looks at...well, at an older copy of Regulus. Narcissa straightens her
blouse. “Hello, little cousin. How did OWLs treat you?”
This is Sirius Black, Lucius thinks. A year younger than Narcissa, and disowned
for refusing to take the Mark when he turned fifteen. He looks haughty, but
eyes Lucius with interest. “This is your new pet? What happened with Evan?
Don’t tell me he’s actually faithful to Antonia.”
“Irreconcilable differences, I’m afraid,” Narcissa says smoothly. “And may I
present Lucius Malfoy, my fiancé.”
“He’s French,” Sirius comments. “Nice one, Ciss. Is your mother proud?”
“He’s very wealthy,” she says, tone bored. “Mother is thrilled.”
“I think I read about that in the papers. Right next to the death notice for
Uncle Cygnus. It’s a shame about him, really. I heard he died quickly,” Sirius
bares his teeth in an approximation of a smile.
“Oh, now Sirius. You know Bella and I. We’re quite efficient,” Narcissa shows
her teeth in return. “Run along now, little cousin. Your pet werewolf looks
lost without you.”
Sirius tilts his head toward her, and gives Lucius a slight nod. Lucius watches
him saunter away, toward a scarred boy in a shabby sweater. The boy lights up
when Sirius reaches him. “That was odd,” Lucius says. “Right?”
Narcissa shrugs. “Sirius was raised as the heir.”
Like that explains it.
Chapter End Notes
     Have a great day!
***** House Elves *****
Chapter Notes
     I almost forgot to post this update. I was editing a paper for one of
     my classes and went wait, hold on. There's something more enjoyable I
     could be agonizing over. Anyway, enjoy!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The Manor feels incredibly empty without Narcissa and Regulus. That's the first
thing Lucius notices when he arrives home from the train station. The next
thing he notices is the house elf rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. “Um,”
he says.
It jumps, and spins around to face him. “Hello! I’m Lanksy.”
“I’m Lucius,” he says. “It’s nice to meet you.”
The creature squeaks. “A polite one! I like that.”
Lucius isn’t sure how to reply to that. “Can I help you with anything?” he asks
instead.
Lanksy is obviously bonded to a well-off family. She’s wearing a neat uniform
fashioned out of what appears to be towels, and her hair is neatly groomed.
He’d been unfortunate enough to encounter Kreacher several weeks before, and
the difference between the malnourished and mistreated Black house elf and this
one was stunning. “Yes, sir! Lanksy’s family doesn’t need any more house elves,
but Lanksy’s daughter needs work. Lanksy has been trying to find her a good
place.”
“You think here is a good place?” Lucius asks, skeptical.
The Manor is habitable, but he’s not sure he’d go so far as to call it good.
“Lanksy will see,” the elf says critically. “Is you interested in a house elf?”
“Yes, absolutely,” he tells her. “Would you like a tour of the house or
grounds?”
“Lanksy is already been seeing everything,” Lanksy is also all business. “Tell
Lanksy about your family.”
“Well,” says Lucius. “You’ve met me. My fiancee is in her seventh year at
Hogwarts. We’re to be married when she graduates. Her younger cousin is also
staying with us. He’s starting his first year.”
“Plans for children of your own?” the creature asks.
Lucius shakes his head. “Not at the moment.”
“You is a pureblood wizard though, yes?” she wants to know.
“Yes,” he replies. “But the Healers say it would be difficult for my fiancee to
have child and her health is more important to me than an heir.”
The house elf hops onto the counter so she can peer more closely at him. “You
is meaning that.”
He nods, unsure. “I do.”
“Mipsy!” she calls.
Another house elf appears, this one less wrinkly. “Mipsy is here!” it says. “Is
this the place? What is the family being like? Is they nice? Is there a garden?
Is the countertops quartz?”
“This is Lucius,” Lanksy says. “He is having a fiancee, but she is at Hogwarts.
The fiancee is having a younger cousin that lives with them. He is at Hogwarts
too. There’s space for a garden but it is not being planted this past summer.
The countertops is perfect.”
Mipsy appears enthralled with the countertops. “They is so white! And new!”
“My fiancee was very insistent that they be quartz,” Lucius offers. “She says
it’s the best for cooking.”
Lanksy nods in approval. “Why is the garden not being planted?”
“We moved in very recently. This is my family’s ancestral home, but it stood
empty for almost two hundred years. We’ve been making repairs to it,” Lucius
has never felt so judged by something so small.
Mipsy blinks luminous green eyes at him. “It is being beautiful. You is doing a
really good job.”
“It’s mostly Narcissa,” Lucius tells her. “I’m rubbish at physical magic. She’s
done this all herself.”
“What’s the point of you then?” Mipsy wants to know.
Lanksy whacks her half-heartedly. “Narcissa Black?” she wants to know.
“Um,” says Lucius, looking between them. What was the point of him? “Yes,
Narcissa Black.”
“Lanksy isn’t liking the Blacks,” says Lanksy. “The way Lady Black is treating
Kreacher is a disgrace.”
Lucius nods. “It is. Narcissa isn’t like that though. She’s the one that got
Walburga admitted to St. Mungo’s, where she can’t hurt anyone.”
“Mipsy is liking this place,” Mipsy says. “Mipsy could stay for a trial
period?” she asks her mother.
Lanksy eyes Lucius. “If one hair is harmed on Lanksy’s daughter’s head you will
be regretting being born,” she informs him, and disappears with a startlingly
loud crack.
Mipsy blinks at him expectantly. “What is Mipsy’s duties being here?”
Lucius wished desperately that Narcissa were there. “General cleaning and
upkeep? Maybe cooking? I’ve never had a house elf.”
Mipsy sits down, patting the ground. “Sit, Mr. Lucius. Mipsy will tell you.”
He sits. “I hate grocery shopping. Can you grocery shop?”
“If you is giving Mipsy money and a list, yes. House elves be doing everything
though, Mr. Lucius. We is being cleaning, cooking, shopping, gardening, and
watching the children.”
“Cleaning would be great,” Lucius tells her. “And I’m not much of a cook. I can
give you money and you can buy whatever you like to make? I’ll eat anything. I
don’t know anything about gardening and there’s no children to watch. Narcissa
will be here Friday night or Saturday I would guess. She’ll know much more than
me.”
Mipsy looks excited. “Mipsy can cook and buy what Mipsy chooses?”
Lucius shrugs. “Yeah. I can show you your living space if you want? Narcissa
and I repaired and cleaned it, but we haven’t furnished it yet so if you stay
on I can give you money to buy whatever you’d like.”
“Can Mipsy’s mother be visiting when she wants to be visting?” Mipsy asks as
she hops up.
Lucius makes his way to his feet much more slowly. “Lanksy is welcome here
whenever she would like.”
He shows Mipsy the servants’ wing. She’s thrilled even though it’s just a
collection of empty, whitewashed rooms. He gives her ten Galleons for grocery
shopping and Conjures furniture with the promise of money to buy something more
permanent if she stays. “What time is Mr. Lucius wanting meals?”
“I’m not sure about breakfast, just whenever I’m awake I guess? Lunch around
noon or one? And dinner at about six? Whenever works with you,” he says.
Mipsy wrings her ears. “You is useless.”
“I know,” Lucius sighs. “Oh! Wait. Narcissa’s workshop has some cursed items in
it and I’m not sure what she keeps in her office, so be careful while you’re
cleaning?”
“Mipsy will be very careful, Mr. Lucius,” she assures him.
“Right,” he says. “I’m going to take a nap. Let me know if you need anything.”
-------
When Lucius wakes up there’s a tray of sandwiches and a pot of tea sitting on
his bedside table. He stares at it for a moment, disoriented. “I love house
elves,” he decides.
There’s excited squeaking from the hallway, followed by Mipsy making a shushing
noise. Lucius sits up. “Mipsy?” he asks.
She pops into appearance next to his bed. “Mipsy is sorry, Mr. Lucius. She is
having her family over to show them the place and see what they is thinking.”
“That’s fine, Mipsy. If they have any suggestions for improvements I’d be happy
to hear them. I don’t know anything about—,”
“Anything,” Mipsy finishes for him. “Mipsy knows and will ask her family.”
“I’m really good at wards and decent at paperwork,” Lucius mutters to himself
after she disappears. “People are afraid of me. I’m a very powerful man.”
He carries the remaining sandwiches and tea into his office, settling in for a
long several hours of dealing with the most recent lawsuit. Mipsy appears
periodically with more tea and snacks. The third time she does this she says,
“There is an owl being from a Mr. Edgelock for you,” she hands him a letter and
disappears again.
Mr. Edgelock is the Malfoy Trading Corporation’s lawyer. He was in Lucius’s
class at law school, and is infinitely smug that he graduated and Lucius did
not. He would also like to meet as soon as possible. Lucius swears. This means
he has to put on pants, and that the cookies Mipsy brought will no longer be
warm by the time he’s done. He stuffs an entire cookie in his mouth and goes to
get dressed.
Chapter End Notes
     Happy Friday!
***** Making Something of Nothing *****
Chapter Notes
     Hey, everyone! Thank you to everyone reading this, and everyone who
     has left kudos or commented. You all make my day. I have some free
     time this weekend, and might do a bonus update if I end up getting a
     lot of work done on this story. I've written through chapter 15, and
     have most of it outlined. Hope you have an awesome day!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Once decent, he Apparates directly into the lobby of Edgelock and Buttles,
Attorneys at Law. The secretary, a bored-looking brunette, does not look up
from filing her nails. “I’m here to see Edgelock,” he says.
She waves him past.
“Lucius! Old friend!” Edgelock exclaims happily.
He’s round, already balding, and always cheerful. “Hello, Matthew,” Lucius
sighs. “What was so urgent?”
Edgelock presents a piece of paper. “You’re not actually guilty of, or
responsible for, what you’re being sued over this time,” he says.
“I know,” says Lucius.
He thinks Edgelock’s office has gotten more distasteful since the last time he
was here. It’s the new rug. It’s orange. “I just got out of court not ten
minutes ago. Now, the judge was just as surprised as I was that the case was
baseless, but when I explained everything to her she tossed the suit instantly.
Do you want to sue for slander? They were accusing the company of some pretty
nasty stuff.”
“Are you going to charge me more money if we counter sue?” Lucius wants to
know.
Edgelock waves his hand. “My dear old friend, you are so cynical! Our firm
will, of course take a percentage of the winnings from the suit.”
“Your going rate is fifteen percent, correct?” Lucius inquires, knowing it’s
actually twenty but hoping Edgelock won’t argue. If he agrees to fifteen
percent it’s magically binding.
The smaller man has the nerve to waggle his finger at Lucius. “You are so
funny, with your grade school tricks! It is twenty percent.”
Lucius sighs. “Feel free to sue. We could use some good publicity.”
-------
The rest of the week passes in a blur, punctuated by three letters from Regulus
and one from Narcissa. The letters from Regulus are written as haphazardly as
the boy talks. Lucius has to reread them twice to get the gist of it. He was
sorted into Slytherin, Quidditch was not for first year students and the
current Seeker was only a fifth year which meant Regulus likely wouldn’t make
first string for ages, and Narcissa had gotten into a fight with Albus
Dumbledore in the middle of the Great Hall. Lucius frowns down at Regulus’s
words. It was wicked the boy said. Narcissa’s letter was even less informative.
My darling Lucius,
Regulus was sorted into Slytherin. He promised to write you with the news
himself, but I fear he might have become distracted while ranting about
Quidditch and forgotten to mention it. I’m quite proud of him and the way he
has been conducting himself. I think you have been a steadying influence in his
life, for which I am grateful. I am well. My classmates have not seen fit to
comment on my family’s affairs, and they have all been respectful of Regulus. I
would tolerate nothing less, nor would Sirius for all he pretends to have
forsaken us.
As I’m sure you will have heard, I had a disagreement with the Headmaster. He
suspects me of being one of the Dark Lord’s followers. He is incorrect. I’m
sure the story made it into the papers. It might even be an accurate retelling
of the disagreement. Do not reply to this letter, as I fear the post is being
monitored.
All my love,
Narcissa
True to her word, there is an article about her exchange with Dumbledore in the
Daily Prophet. Lucius didn’t know much about Dumbledore beyond what was on a
Chocolate Frog card, but he did remember Narcissa telling Regulus to never meet
the man’s eyes, or accept candy from him. She had given the boy an incredibly
long lecture on all of the professors, most of the upper year students, and
also taught him numerous spells she thought might be useful. Lucius had learned
almost as much as Regulus had, from how to detect a drug in a drink to what
Lily Evans’ favorite flower was, and exactly what to say to Professor
McGonagall in any given situation.
The article in the Prophet was far more informative than Narcissa had been,
though, he suspected, everything had been sensationalized.
Death Eaters at Hogwarts? The Black Family Involved?
Many of you, dear readers, are familiar with Miss Narcissa Black. She is as
common of a sight around the Ministry and at exclusive pureblood gatherings as
her name is in the papers with her recent and scandalous engagement to Lucius
Malfoy and the death of her father, Mr. Cygnus Black. Miss Black, only 17 and
just beginning her final year at Hogwarts, has reportedly spent her summer
wrestling control of the Black family from her uncle, the Lord Orion Black. It
is speculated that Lord Black’s move to India, apparently to keep a closer eye
on the family’s tea empire, is more of an exile. We have been unable to confirm
whether he arrived in the country, however.
With Lady Walburga Black institutionalized and Miss Black’s mother, Druella
Black (nee Rosier) living in southern Spain now for her health, Miss Black has
succeeded in becoming the head of the Black family in everything but title.
Regulus Black, the family’s heir, is only 11 and unlikely to become a threat to
Miss Black’s power for several years, if ever. Sources tell us Miss Black is
his primary caretaker, now that the young boy’s parents are out of the picture,
and that the two are fond of each other. It is no wonder, then, that this
remarkable young witch was willing to stand up to Hogwarts Headmaster, Albus
Dumbledore.
Dumbledore apparently approached Miss Black during supper several days into the
term, asking to speak with her in private. Miss Black, surrounded by upper year
Slytherin students, inquired as to why. Dumbledore expressed his concern about
the recent death of her father and her care of Regulus, who, along with his
peers, was nearby. Miss Black assured him that she and the Black heir were both
well, thanked him for his concern, but declined to speak with him privately.
When Dumbledore insisted, Heir Black also added his own assurances of his and
Miss Black’s wellbeing.
What happened next will shock you, dear readers. Dumbledore grabbed Miss
Black’s arm, and attempted to roll her left sleeve up. Miss Black reacted
violently, nonverbally throwing the Headmaster nearly a dozen feet away from
her. She stood up, walked to where Dumbledore lay, placed a foot on his chest,
and pointed her wand down at him. “Do you think, sir, that I am a Death Eater?”
she asked him loudly.
Death Eaters are the name given to the followers of a man styling himself the
next Dark Lord. Lady Bellatrix Lestrange (nee Black), Miss Black’s eldest
sister, is a well known supporter of this man, who calls himself Lord
Voldemort. Miss Black showed Dumbledore, and then the rest of the students, her
bare left arm. It is thought that a Death Eater bears a mark of some sort in
this location. “I am not,” Miss Black proclaimed to the room at large, which
had grown silent soon after the exchange began. Then, leaning closer to
Dumbledore Miss Black softly said, “You should be worried, old man, but not
about me. Not yet.”
What does Miss Black’s ominous statement mean? Are there Death Eaters at
Hogwarts? What, exactly are our children being exposed to? Should the Ministry
be directing funds to stopping this Lord Voldemort, if Dumbledore thinks he is
threatening enough to warrant assaulting a member of the Black family? I don’t
know, dear readers, but I suspect we will soon find out.
“Trust the Prophet to write an article about nothing as if it were something,”
Narcissa says, appearing next to him.
“Are you back for the weekend?” Lucius inquires hopefully. “The house is too
quiet without you.”
“I’m heading back Sunday morning. I have a ridiculous amount of translating to
do for Ancient Runes, but Lady Longbottom wants a pair of earrings that can
deflect stunning spells for her son’s girlfriend. Frank graduated last year,
but Alice is in my year. She wants to be an Auror,” Narcissa explains. “And I
need Lord Longbottom to vote my way at the next Wizengamot meeting”
“You don’t have enough votes all by yourself?” teases Lucius.
She swats at him. “I’ve only got nine, now that Bella signed over hers and the
ones the Lestrange brothers forfeited. You need at least 51 to get any sort of
legislation passed.”
“What are you so invested in that you’re sucking up to the Longbottoms?” he
wants to know.
“The Wizengamot is trying to decide whether to increase the number of Aurors in
response to Voldemort. If they do it will cause widespread panic. England
hasn’t had its own Dark Lord in living memory,” she rolls her eyes.
“Is this Voldemort really going to be the next Dark Lord?” Lucius asks.
She shrugs. “Bella thinks so. I think he’s building himself up more as a
terrorist than anything else though. He’s mostly stuck to Muggles so far, so
the Wizengamot is hesitant to put funds towards the Aurors that they could be
lining their pockets with.”
“You support the increase?” Lucius is surprised, and trails after Narcissa into
the kitchen.
“I’ve met Voldemort,” she says cryptically, and then Mipsy appears with a pop.
“Miss Narcissa!” she exclaims. “You is home! Mipsy is so relieved. Mr. Lucius
is knowing nothing. Not a thing!”
Narcissa jumps slightly at Mipsy’s initial appearance. When she recovers, she
smiles at Mipsy. “Mr. Lucius has never had a house elf before, Mipsy. We must
be patient with him.”
Lucius sighs, but can’t argue with that.
Chapter End Notes
     Thanks for reading!
***** Avis *****
Chapter Notes
     Hope you enjoy! The plot is going to start picking up soon, and I'm
     having a good time working on this story. Thanks to everyone reading,
     leaving kudos, and commenting! You're all the best.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
“Yes, Miss Narcissa. Mipsy and Mipsy’s mother wants to be meeting Miss Narcissa
before they made any decisions,” the elf explains. “Lanksy not be liking the
way Lady Black is treating poor Kreacher. Mipsy neither.”
Narcissa raises an eyebrow at the tiny green creature. “You’re a bold one. What
family is your mother bonded to?”
“She is being bonded to the Potters, Miss Narcissa. Charlus and Dorea,” answers
Mipsy.
“Do you know Sirius Black, then?” Narcissa inquires, brightening slightly.
“Yes, Miss Narcissa. He is being friends with young Master James,” Mipsy begins
to make tea, while Lucius and Narcissa settle into stools at the island.
“Is he well? Do Charlus and Dorea treat him kindly?” Narcissa wants to know.
Mipsy blinks her inscrutable lime green eyes at her. “Why is you caring, miss?
You is not being family.”
“Blood is blood,” Narcissa tells the elf. “And I am not my aunt.”
Mipsy nods in agreement. “No miss, you is not. Lanksy!”
Lanksy appears with another startlingly loud crack. “What is you needing,
Mipsy?” then, “Miss Narcissa! You is home.”
“I is wanting to be bonding myself to them,” Mipsy declares. “Miss Narcissa is
not being Lady Black. She is saying so.”
The two elves lock eyes, and appear to have some sort of silent conversation.
All Lucius knows is that involves a lot of ear twitching. “We is needing some
of your blood, Mr. Lucius,” Lanksy finally says.
Narcissa says, “Take mine instead,” before he can argue that he is, in fact,
very attached to all of his blood right where it is.
Lanksy frowns. “That is being very uncommon, Miss Narcissa. Usually we is
binding ourselves to the head of a household.”
“That’s Narcissa though, isn’t it?” Lucius interjects. “Our marriage contract
is drawn up so we’re equal in the relationship, but when it comes down to it
she’s a noble and I’m not.”
Narcissa smiles pleasantly, adding, “I’m a very uncommon kind of witch,
Lanksy.”
They proceed with the binding. Mipsy collects a vial of Narcissa’s blood which
is, as Lanksy explains it, insurance. Lucius is very glad they’re not using his
blood when she says, “All sorts of bad magics is being worked with blood if
need is being.”
Then Narcissa kneels, and she and Mipsy clasp hands. The following vows, of
service, discretion, and loyalty on Mipsy’s part and of protection and fairness
on Narcissa’s, leave no room for loopholes or interpretation. Lucius is
impressed, watching strands of silver and lime colored magic wind between the
witch and elf with every word.
Binding complete, the magic dissipates into sparks and then vanishes. Lanksy
bows to Lucius and Narcissa, then hugs her daughter. “Be visiting, Mipsy. And
taking care of yourself.”
The older elf disappears with a crack.
-------
Later that night, Lucius is slumped on the floor of Narcissa’s workroom, eating
macaroni and cheese and watching her work. “You’re beautiful,” he informs her.
She had changed into soft flannel pajamas shortly after Mipsy had decided she
wanted to bind herself to them. They’re red and green and clash horribly with
her skin tone. Her hair is drawn up in a severe bun, and her face is damp with
sweat as she sinks runes into a delicate pair of silver earrings. She looks up
from her project long enough to give him a doubtful look, and then returns to
her project. “I think Mipsy must have put something in your food,” she mutters.
“This is not my best look.”
“Everything is your best look,” Lucius argues.
She draws a silvery rune in the air and waves it toward him instead of forcing
it onto the earrings. Too surprised to be concerned by the symbol, it sinks
into his skin before he thinks to dodge. He finds himself wracked with giggles.
He claps both hands over his mouth in an attempt to stifle them, nearly
spilling his macaroni while she abandons the earrings and strides over to him.
Crouching, she archly asks, “Is there something you find amusing, Lucius?”
She can’t keep a straight face though, and grins. With a grasping motion, she
pulls the rune off of him and lets it dissipate like smoke. He stops giggling,
but grins back at her. “You’re a menace” he decides.
“A brilliant one,” she agrees. “But I need you to test that.”
She stands up and puts the earrings on. “Stun me.”
“Are my looks and charming personality not enough?” he quips, but does as
directed. “Stupefy.”
The earrings absorb the beam of red light. “Again,” Narcissa says.
Lucius loses count of how many stunning spells he casts, but eventually
Narcissa is satisfied. “Tested up to twenty Stunners, one right after the
other,” she murmurs while scribbling on a piece of paper. “Only good for
absorbing standard stunning spells. Resistant to Summoning.”
“What happens to the power from the spells?” Lucius asks.
She places the earrings into a small paper envelope. “It supercharges the
runes. I’m sure you’re familiar with magical artefacts that become more
powerful the more they’re used.”
Lucius is. “Most of the objects I deal with are like that. I had an opal
necklace try to strangle me a few years ago. It fed on souls, like a Dementor.
Another few victims and it might have had me too.”
Narcissa makes a face. “Soul magic is distasteful.”
“It really is,” he agrees, then, “What are you up to for the rest of the
night?”
It’s not quite nine yet. Lucius had no plans. He had almost gotten the Malfoy
Trading Corporation to the point that all he had to do was spend the day
writing and responding to letters, interspersed with face-to-face meetings when
someone was too important to simply owl, and had given himself the weekend off
as a reward.
“I’ve about had it with runes for the day, and I’m saving politics for tomorrow
when I meet Lady Longbottom for tea to give her the earrings, so I thought I
might just lay in bed and catch up on some reading for Charms,” she replies.
“You’re welcome to join me if you stay on your half of the bed.”
“I can manage that,” he says, which is how he ends up with Narcissa’s icy feet
wedged under his legs and a stack of notes balanced precariously on his
blanket-covered torso.
Narcissa’s room is cozy, full of soft colors and softer surfaces. The carpet is
beige and plush. One entire wall is made of windows that look down onto the
flower garden, and there’s a comfortable looking couch in the corner. The stack
of books and magazines on the table next to it range in topic from Muggle
fiction to Witch Weekly to a complete history of Wizarding British politics.
She has roughly a million blankets on the bed, no less than three of which are
fuzzy.
“Do you want something to read?” Narcissa asks, frowning at a complicated
diagram. “I’m kind of boring.”
“You hold almost ten percent of the legislative power in England,” Lucius tells
her. “And you do active rune magic, which is amazing. You couldn’t be boring if
you tried.”
“If only I could do NEWT level Charms as well as I can do all of that,” she
says, looking frustrated.
Lucius peers at the page her textbook is open to. “I haven’t used the Avis
charm since my NEWTs,” he confesses.
“Exactly! Why would I ever need to Conjure a flock of birds? There are real
ones everywhere outside,” she complains.
“You never struggled with anything you did over the summer,” Lucius says. “What
are you hung up on about this?”
She scowls at him. “I can do almost anything if I’ve got a material to start
with in front of me. Something from nothing though? I can barely cast Aguamenti
let alone produce an entire live bird.”
“Why did you take Charms then?” Lucius wants to know. “Most of the upper level
stuff is all Conjuring or expanding the reach and impact of more basic charms.”
Narcissa flops angrily into her pillow. “I know! Everyone told me, Narcissa
don’t take Charms! You’re just going to be a housewife. You’ll be rich enough
to pay someone to cast charms for you! It’s nothing you’ll ever need to know,
sweetheart,” she spits the last word.
Lucius was starting to get the feeling that this was a touchy subject for her.
“What other classes are you taking?”
“Other than Charms I’m taking Transfiguration, Potions, Herbology, History of
Magic, Ancient Runes, and Defense Against the Dark Arts,” she rattles off.
“That’s a ridiculous amount of work,” Lucius tells her. “You should drop out
and focus on eating cookies and casting Warming Charms on your feet.”
This gets her to smile. “They’re not that cold,” she protests.
“I can’t hear you over how much of the feeling I’ve lost in my legs,” he says,
turning away dramatically.
She discards the Charms textbook and cuddles into his side. The rest of her is
not much warmer than her feet, and her hands, which she gleefully puts on his
stomach, are actually colder. He carefully sets her notes on the floor and
wraps an arm around her. “Is this okay?” he asks.
“Yeah,” she says. “But only until I’ve stolen all of your body heat.”
“It’s only right,” he agrees. “You’ve already stolen my heart.”
She elbows him. “You’re the ridiculous one.”
Chapter End Notes
     Have a good rest of your day!
***** Cursed *****
Chapter Notes
     Hey, everyone! Hope you're all doing good. I'm posting this week's
     update and also next week's update because I'll be traveling.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
He must have dozed off because he wakes up to birds chirping. It’s still dark
outside though. Lucius blinks, looking around sleepily. Whirling around the
candlelit room is a flock of sparrows. “You did it!” he tells Narcissa, voice
rough with sleep.
“I Transfigured dust motes,” she informs him grimly. “But I don’t think that’ll
work in the actual exam.”
“You kind of did it?” he offers.
The sparrows vanish, dust once more. “I’m never going to get this,” Narcissa
says, and buries her face in his shoulder.
“It’s the first week of classes,” he rubs her back soothingly. “You have the
rest of the year to figure things out.”
“In a year Wizarding Britain will be at war,” she predicts dourly. “I should be
worrying about that, not useless spells.”
“You really think it’s going to come to that?” Lucius asks.
“I know the Ministry and, to a lesser extent, Voldemort. He’s already starting
to escalate from Muggles to Muggle-borns. There’s been three reported
disappearances in the past month alone. Bella says that’s not even half of
them. The Aurors are covering them up. The Minister is a puppet and the
Wizengamot is so divided and controlled by special interests it’s barely
functional,” she tells his armpit. “I owled Andromeda and told her to leave the
country.”
Lucius peers at the top of her head. “There hasn’t been a British Dark Lord in
over a hundred years.”
Her shoulders are shaking slightly, which probably means she’s crying. “I’m
revoking your body heat privileges if you get snot on me,” he says half-
heartedly.
“Can you stay tonight?” she asks.
“Of course.”
-------
Narcissa is gone when he wakes up, and he doesn’t see her again for a month.
He’s unsure if she’s embarrassed or just busy, but either way it’s enough to
make Lucius almost grateful for the steady stream of meetings he attends. They
get him out of the manor and interacting with people who are not two feet tall
and green, though he likes Mipsy much better than the greasy foreign
dignitaries and greasier businessmen he usually encounters.
He receives and replies to frequent letters from Regulus, heeding Narcissa’s
warning about the post being monitored and not putting anything remotely
questionable in his letters.
Regulus was thriving though. One of the Slytherin prefects was over-seeing
flying practice for the younger students, and they occasionally got to fly in
their Broom Safety class. Narcissa was too distracted with her classes to
lecture him when he ate three desserts and no vegetables for dinner, and he
thought Adila Shafiq might have a crush on him. She’d smiled at him twice, at
any rate, and sat by him in Charms. For Regulus, life was good.
Narcissa’s letters are shorter, and very rarely contain anything of interest.
She complains about Charms and the lack of coffee at Hogwarts, and occasionally
asks him to suggest plants to Mipsy for the garden the elf is planning. He
writes equally harmless things back. Lucius had recently made the acquaintance
of a Muggle mobster in New York City named Tony, and the man spent most of
their meetings complaining about his grandchildren. He left out the mobster
bit, but the man’s words, that his grandchildren “lacked the sense God gave a
damn cannoli” made it into the letter, as did other funny anecdotes, gossip
about various businessmen, and Mipsy’s latest projects.
Narcissa returns in mid-October, Regulus in tow, just in time to see the fall
decorations Mipsy has been indulging in as of late. There are pumpkins
everywhere, and in most of the food she made. Lucius is just on his way out the
door when she walks in. “Hey,” he says, surprised. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I’m not technically allowed to leave the school grounds except for Hogsmeade
weekends,” she informs him.
“”Why not?” Lucius frowns. “You’re of age.”
“It’s a stupid rule,” she shrugs tiredly.
Her hair, usually attempting to burst out of whatever she was confining it
with, was lank. She was even paler than normal, and looked unhappy. “What’s
wrong?” he asks.
Regulus has two black eyes and looks to be on the verge of tears, but remains
quiet.
She waves a hand. “Don’t worry about it. Where were you headed?”
“Out to dinner,” he says. “That can wait though. What’s going on?”
“I want to lie down,” she says instead of answering. “I’ll tell you about it
when I don’t have to be standing. Mipsy?”
Mipsy appears. “Miss Narcissa!” the elf exclaims. “And is this being Mr.
Regulus? His face is being hurt.”
“Can you take care of him? Lucius and I need to talk,” Narcissa gives the boy’s
shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Things will be fine,” she tells him.
Regulus follows Mipsy to the kitchen. Lucius removes his coat, and follows
Narcissa up to her room. She flops onto her bed without bothering to take her
shoes off, and Lucius settles on a chair. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve been cursed with some sort of nightmare spell. I haven’t been able to get
rid of it or sleep more than a few hours a night,” she says. “You would think
dealing with the Wizengamot would be more exhausting than dealing with teenage
Death Eater wannabes.”
“What happened?” Lucius wants to know.
She sighs. “There are a lot of Voldemort’s supporters at Hogwarts. They took
offense after my little display with Dumbledore, but probably wouldn’t have
done anything else except I stopped them from attacking a Muggle-born student.
Then my stance on the upcoming vote for Auror funding came out, and they
decided I was a blood traitor.”
“So they cursed you?” he asks. “You’re one of the most powerful women in
Britain.”
“I never said they were smart,” Narcissa agrees. “I’ve been making their lives
unpleasant, and so has Sirius. I offered to make him a member of the family
again. He agreed. Didn’t even want his votes back,” she smiles hazily, and
apparently loses her train of thought.
“What happened to Regulus?” Lucius prompts.
Her eyes refocus. “The Carrow twins cornered him. Since Sirius and I are more
trouble than we’re worth they went after someone who couldn’t defend
themselves. They’ll think twice before they do that again.”
“Did you do anything illegal?” he inquires.
Narcissa’s smile is extremely unpleasant. “Nothing they can tell anyone about
without revealing they attacked the heir of a noble family.”
Lucius sighs. “You need to see a Healer.”
She attempts to sit up, but falls over and then out of bed. From the floor, she
says, “I don’t want to.”
Lucius stands up, and drags her to her feet. “Too bad,” he tells her. “You
couldn’t fight a wet tissue in this state, so you can’t exactly stop me.”
“We can’t leave Regulus here alone,” she argues. “I’ll stay and watch him.
You’ll have to go to the Healer without me.”
“Regulus is coming too,” he informs her.
He guides her, still protesting, down to the kitchen. Regulus is covered in
bruise salve, munching on a cookie, and excitedly telling Mipsy about
Quidditch. “Is Miss Narcissa being okay?” Mipsy asks, spotting Lucius.
Regulus, who is significantly less black and blue than before, echos her
question. “We’re going to a Healer,” Lucius tells them. “Regulus, you’re coming
too. I don’t know what’s been going on, but I want you to get checked out as
well.”
“I don’t want to go to St. Mungo’s,” he says mulishly. “That’s where mother
is.”
“We’re not going to St. Mungo’s,” Lucius soothes, and then there’s a knock at
the door.
Mipsy goes to answer it, and returns, followed by Sirius Black, his werewolf
friend, and three people Lucius doesn’t recognize. “They just found the
Carrows,” Sirius says.
“Are they alive?” Lucius asks. “She says she didn’t kill them, but she’s kind
of out of it.”
Narcissa, who had been gazing dreamily at a wall, giggles. “Lucius thinks I’m
mad, like Bella,” she tells Sirius conspiratorially.
“They’re alive, but just barely,” Sirius says, ignoring Narcissa. “I told the
Aurors it was me.”
“And they just nodded and let you go?” Lucius says skeptically.
“Yeah, actually. The Carrows aren’t a noble family, and they attacked the heir
of one,” Sirius nods at Regulus, who looks uncomfortable. “I was just defending
my future lord from the common filth.”
“I cannot believe our justice system,” the only witch in the group, a redhead,
mutters. “Not that I’m not pleased you’re not on your way to Azkaban,” she adds
hastily, when Sirius raises an eyebrow.
“Do you want to stay here while I take them to a Healer?” Lucius asks the
group. “Mipsy is an excellent cook and there’s plenty of space.”
Mipsy beams at the praise. “We’ll stay,” one of the boys says. “I’m James
Potter, by the way.”
“It’s a pleasure,” Lucius says. “I really need to go though.”
“I’m coming with,” Sirius informs him flatly.
Lucius shrugs. “We’re going to Moscow. I have a friend from school with a
practice there. She specializes in this kind of thing.”
“Death Eater curses?” the shortest of the boys asks curiously.
“Dark magic,” Lucius corrects.
He and Sirius keep Narcissa between them, and Regulus holds tightly to Sirius’s
arm. Lucius Apparates directly into the waiting room. It’s fairly bland, with
blue carpet, white walls, several perpetually wilting plants, and a magazine
rack. The wizard at the front desk flicks his eyes up from whatever he’s
writing.
“Zia!” he calls. “Lucius is here and he has friends.”
Zia Kuznetsov materializes. She’s willowy, with dark hair, and glasses. “Lucius
with friends?” she asks, smiling crookedly. “This is something I have to see.”
“I remember when you had acne and a perm,” Lucius tells her. “And a big crush
on all of the Beatles.”
She sniffs. “Hurtful, Lucius. Truly. You know Ringo was my favorite. You don’t
appear to be bleeding out on my carpet today though, so what can I do for you?”
He gestures at Narcissa. “This is my fiancee. She’s been cursed. The other two
are her cousins, Sirius and Regulus. I’d like you to look at Regulus too.”
Zia does a diagnostic charm of some sort, and her eyebrows go up. “I want to
look at Sirius as well,” she says. “Your fiancee first though.”
The man at the desk gives Lucius a stack of paperwork as Zia leads Narcissa
down a hallway and into an exam room. He starts on the paperwork while Sirius
paces. Regulus manages to hover anxiously while sitting.
It takes Lucius a solid hour to get through the forms, but once he has he
wishes he hadn’t. Now he’s stuck waiting with nothing to do instead of
interrogating Sirius about the family’s medical history. A nurse comes to get
Regulus, who returns half an hour later without the black eyes. Another Healer,
Zia’s partner in the practice and occasionally romantically, from what Lucius
remembers, takes Sirius to an exam room.
Apparently tiring of Lucius’s nervousness, the man behind the desk rolls his
eyes. “You know Zia is the best at what she does.”
Lucius is about to reply, when Zia herself returns. Her hair is significantly
frizzier than before, and she’s wobbling a little. “I want to keep her
overnight for observation, but you can see her now.”
He and Regulus follow Zia back to a private room. Narcissa is sleeping
peacefully, hooked up to several monitoring devices. “Is she going to be okay?”
Regulus asks in a small voice. “I’ve never seen her like she was.”
“The curse, whatever it was, attacked her nervous system. The nightmares she
was having were a side effect. She’s been terrified out of her mind for two
weeks,” Zia explains. “It had been five days since she slept. If she were less
powerful magically she would have been driven mad.”
“You didn’t recognize the curse?” Lucius asks.
Zia gives him a look. “I’m not all-knowing.”
“You’re as close as there is,” he replies, then looks at Regulus. “Was he
alright?”
She grabs his arm and drags him out of the room, down the hall, and into her
office. “What the hell are you doing?” she demands. “All three of those
children have worse curse damage than most retired Aurors.”
“Narcissa is of age,” Lucius protests weakly.
“She’s seventeen, Lucius! She’s still in school!” Zia exclaims. “Which hasn’t
slowed her down any, she’s been using Unforgivables and blood magic. Not that I
blame her, if she was cursing whoever’s been abusing the lot of them. The older
boy, Sirius, he’s got nerve damage from the Cruciatus curse. Did you know how
long it takes before that happens? The younger one was beaten to within an inch
of his life today, and judging by the scars he has, it wasn’t the first time.
He’s also been starved in the past.”
Zia has her wand out, and is pointing it at him. “Their parents weren’t very
nice people,” Lucius says, holding his hands up. “I had nothing to do with it.”
“If I find out any of their injuries are from you, Lucius Malfoy, I’ll turn you
inside out,” Zia growls, stowing her wand. “By hand.”
Regulus chooses that moment to burst in. “Lucius hasn’t hurt any of us!”
Zia’s eyes instantly soften when she turns to him. “I don’t think he did, but
someone has. Do you want to report it to the authorities?”
Regulus shakes his head. “Narcissa got rid of them.”
She nods. “Alright, then. Can you go keep Narcissa company? She might like it
if you talk to her.”
Regulus hurries back out of the room, and Zia closes the door behind him. “Not
done yelling at me?” Lucius guesses.
“That depends on how you answer my next questions,” she informs him.
Chapter End Notes
     Thanks for reading!
***** Lady Potter *****
Chapter Notes
     See you all in two weeks!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
“Alright,” Lucius sighs. “Ask away.”
“Voldemort,” Zia begins, looking troubled.
“That’s not a question,” he points out.
She visibly restrains herself from snapping at him. “What are your thoughts on
the man claiming to be the next Dark Lord?”
Lucius shrugs. “Narcissa thinks he’s a threat. She’s a member of the Wizengamot
and has been trying to rally support for a bill that would increase defense
spending.”
“I didn’t ask you what Narcissa thought,” she says, adding, “Though she sounds
sensible. I certainly wasn’t at that age.”
“Me neither,” Lucius agrees. “I’m still not, honestly. I’ve met some of
Voldemort’s followers though. Narcissa’s older sister is one, and I suspect
that Sirius’s mother was the one that caused the nerve damage. He refused to
join Voldemort’s cause and she didn’t take it well.”
Zia nods. “It would seem not.”
Lucius shrugs. She’s always had a gift for understatement. “I don’t have much
information to give you, beyond that. Narcissa thinks he’s a threat, and that’s
good enough for me.”
She pushes her glasses back up her nose, and changes the topic. “Do you love
her?”
He shrugs again. “She’s intelligent and attractive.”
“Any answer other than a resounding ‘yes’ to that is the wrong one,” Zia
informs him. “Why are you marrying her?”
“Her mother arranged it. You know, when I met her she was sitting in another
man’s lap? I never expected it to go anywhere. We got coffee once, and drinks.
I agreed to be her date to the British Solstice celebration, and that was the
night we signed the contract. I never really thought about consequences,” he
says.
“Do you ever?” Zia wants to know.
He gives her a dirty look. “Narcissa is a good person, and I like spending time
with her. I’m happier than either of my parents ever were.”
“Your parents’ marriage isn’t exactly what I’d use as a standard,” she says
drily. “I believe you though. I like her.”
“She’s half out of her mind,” Lucius protests. “You don’t even know her.”
“She’s half out of her mind and the only thing she was thinking about was
protecting Regulus. You can tell more about someone when they’re at their worst
than when they’re at their best,” Zia says. “She’s a good woman.”
“Despite the Dark magic?” he wants to know.
Her eyes narrow. “You know I’ve never liked it, and I don’t believe there’s
every a reason to use an Unforgivable.”
“I don’t think she throws them around for fun,” Lucius says. “Just to protect
Regulus.”
“Why does she care about him?” Zia asks. “In a few years he’ll inherit
everything the papers say she’s fought so hard for.”
“Blood is blood,” he echos one of Narcissa’s favorite phrases.
Zia whacks him. “I still can’t believe you’re marrying a noble girl. From
Britain, no less.”
“Have you ever been to a proper Solstice celebration?” Lucius asks. “You won’t
believe what they do.”
She quirks an eyebrow. “No?”
“It involves face paint,” he says.
“Can’t they just burn some incense and say a prayer like the rest of us?” Zia
wants to know.
“No incense, no prayer. A lot of champagne and some truly excellent hors
d'oeuvres though,” he offers.
“It sounds like a disgrace to tradition,” she points out.
He shrugs. “I think, traditionally, people only had the money to burn a bit of
incense and pray things got better. Narcissa throws a million Galleons around
like it’s nothing, so it’s not surprising celebrations get a bit out of hand.”
Zia starts to laugh. “You’re going to be a trophy husband, but the sound of
it.”
“Now all I need is to play professional Quidditch and have a father that loves
me. Then all my childhood dreams will have come true,” he grins.
-------
Lucius sends Regulus and Sirius back to the manor by Floo, instructing Sirius
not to let his friends break anything. Sirius gives him a haughty look, marred
somewhat by the fact that Regulus pipes up cheerfully with, “Narcissa warned
him about you lot.”
He settles in to spend the night slumped in a chair by Narcissa’s hospital bed.
He’s startled awake around three in the morning by the appearance of an older
woman who is very clearly not a nurse. She has dark hair, shot through with
silver that matches her eyes. “Hello, young man,” she says pleasantly. “My name
is Dorea Potter and you have some explaining to do.”
“Mrs. Potter,” Lucius scrambles, trying to decide where he’d heard of her
before.
“Lady Potter,” the woman corrects, tilting her head much like a cat listening
for a mouse.
Ah. That explained quite a bit, though he still wasn’t sure why she was here.
He was reluctant to start apologizing until he knew exactly what she wanted, on
the off chance there was something she didn’t know about. She was a Black by
birth, and given his involvement with the family there were quite a few things
she might want explained. “Lady Potter,” he repeats.
He’s rewarded with an annoyed glance. “I believe we’ve established that.”
“Right,” Lucius says. “Um.”
“My son, Mr. Malfoy,” she prompts. “He’s several inches shorter than yourself,
dark hair, rather more darkly complected than either of us, I think. He is
also, interestingly enough, currently missing from Hogwarts along with my
nephews and several of his friends.”
“They’re staying at my home,” he says, hastening to add, “I had nothing to do
with them leaving Hogwarts though.”
She raises an eyebrow, which is all of the encouragement Lucius needs to lose
his resolve and tell her everything he knows.
“Narcissa showed up with Regulus light night. She looked sick and said she’d
been cursed, and he’d been beaten. I was going to take them to a Healer when
Sirius and the other four showed up. Sirius said he took the fall for what
Narcissa did to the Carrows and that he wanted to come with us to the Healer.
His friends stayed there while we came here. Zia is an old friend of mine from
school, which is why we’re in Moscow and not at St. Mungo’s. Sirius and Regulus
were both treated, and cleared to go home so I sent them back to the manor. Zia
wanted to keep Narcissa overnight, so here we are,” he says, barely pausing to
breathe.
“They just let Sirius walk off the grounds after he confessed to beating two of
his fellow students?” Lady Potter asks.
Lucius frowns at her. “He said it was fine? Since they attacked Regulus. He
said he was just defending his future lord, and that the Carrows weren’t a
noble family so he wasn’t in trouble.”
“Sirius was disowned,” Lady Potter says, very slowly. “Which means he doesn’t
have a future lord. They should have charged him with assault at the very
least.”
“Narcissa said she reinstated him into the family,” he offers.
“But not as the heir?” she inquires.
Lucius shrugs. “She said he didn’t want his spot back.”
Lady Potter frowns down at Narcissa’s still form. “That would explain the
letter then.”
“Letter?” Lucius asks, and Lady Potter hands him a folded note.
Dear Lady Potter,
I am forever in your debt for taking me in after my mother disowned me, so I
hope you will not think my next words presumptuous. I believe it is critical
that Lord Potter vote ‘yes’ in the next Wizengamot session to the bill
increasing Auror numbers and funding for the Department of Magical Law
Enforcement. I may no longer be the heir to the Black family, but I was raised
as such and I understand the implications of what I am asking. The man calling
himself Voldemort is a threat and should be treated thusly. I have never met
him personally. My refusal was the cause of my disownment. Bellatrix is one of
his most devoted followers, however, and I know Narcissa has met him.
Incidentally, she is voting ‘yes’ as the Black family regent despite this, or,
if I may be so bold, because of it.
She asked me to write this letter, and I did because I agree with her. Please,
Lady Potter. I wouldn’t ask unless it was important. Intercede with Lord Potter
on behalf of this cause.
Humbly,
Sirius Black
“I expect that this was Regent Black’s price for reinstating him,” Lady Potter
says. “She knows my husband isn’t likely to vote her way on the Auror bill. He
thinks it’s alarmist and wasteful.”
“What do you think?” Lucius asks before he can stop himself.
Chapter End Notes
     Thanks for reading!
***** Coming Home *****
Chapter Notes
     I'm back! And today is the day I post my first "what Narcissa has
     been up to" one-shot, which I'm going to count as next week's update,
     because my schedule through the rest of the semester is kind of
     ridiculous.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Lady Potter eyes him for a moment. “I think Charlus is a good man, but that he
forgets other men aren’t.”
“You support the bill?” Narcissa’s voice is raspy and quiet.
Lucius jumps. Lady Potter merely raises an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be
sedated, child? How long have you been listening?”
“I’m hardly a child, Lady Potter. Answer my question,” she commands.
It’s very hard to take her seriously when she can’t lift her head off her
pillow. Lucius reaches out and grasps her hand. “I was worried about you.”
Narcissa gives his hand a weak squeeze, but does not break her staring contest
with Lady Potter, who sighs. “I do. Sirius showed up in the middle of the
night, covered in blood and terrified out of his mind that night his parents
tried to make him take the Mark. If they’re willing to treat a pureblood child
like that…” she trails off.
“He’s got Fenrir Greyback working for him, last I heard,” Lucius offers.
Lady Potter’s expression ices over. “And how, exactly, do you know that?”
“Um,” Lucius says. “I had some business in Knockturn Alley. Old Borgin was in a
bit of an uproar over it. I’m surprised the whole of London didn’t hear. I
guess Voldemort wanted something and Borgin refused to give it to him, so
Voldemort threatened to set Greyback on Borgin’s grandson.”
“Did he follow through with the threat?” asks Lady Potter.
Lucius shrugs. “Haven’t heard anything since.”
“So he likely did, then,” murmurs Narcissa.
They’re all quiet for a moment. “I’ll talk to Charlus,” Lady Potter says
finally. “Please make sure my son gets back to Hogwarts.”
“You can come visit us, tomorrow if you’d like,” Narcissa says. “I’ll be
cleared to go home. We can discuss the vote further and you can take Heir
Potter and company back to school.”
Lady Potter smiles slightly. It does nothing to make her seem less
intimidating. “I’ll Floo,” she says, and Disapparates.
-------
Lucius watches as Zia pokes and prods at Narcissa, who tolerates it all, only
raising an eyebrow when she’s instructed to open her mouth so Zia can look at
her teeth. “If I wanted to be treated like a horse I would have stayed with my
parents,” she informs the other witch, but opens her mouth anyway.
“You should drink less coffee,” Zia informs her. “You’ll stain your teeth.”
“Next you’ll be telling me I should get eight hours of sleep and eat well,”
Narcissa says, smiling at Zia’s consternation.
“Teenagers are the worst,” she informs Lucius. “This one should make a full
recovery though.”
“Thanks, Zia. Owl me the bill?” he asks.
“You know it,” she grins, pushes her glasses back up her nose, and leaves.
Narcissa watches her go with something akin to fondness. “I like her,” she
says. “She reminds me of Andromeda.”
“She’s an excellent Healer and a good friend,” Lucius agrees. “Saved my life a
couple times, at least.”
“Do you think she’d like to move her practice to Britain?” Narcissa wants to
know.
“Absolutely not,” Zia hollers from somewhere down the hall. “I’ll move to the
United States before I set foot on your miserable island.”
Narcissa shrugs, unperturbed. “We should go home. I want to make sure the manor
is still standing. Sirius and his friends are menaces.”
“And we should tell Mipsy that Lady Potter is coming, so she can prepare tea
and snacks,” Lucius says.
“Lady Potter?” Narcissa inquires.
“She said last night that she would stop by,” Lucius reminds her.
She blinks at him. “What?”
“You don’t remember? She showed up, wanted to know where her son was, and why
Sirius had written a letter asking her to talk to her husband about the Auror
bill,” he says.
“I do not remember,” Narcissa sighs. “Lady Potter is my Aunt Walburga’s sister,
and twice as dangerous, if only because she’s still sane. We definitely need to
go.”
“She looks like a Black though,” Lucius says, helping her up.
“She is,” Narcissa tells him. “She and Walburga are first cousins with my
father and Uncle Orion.”
“Gross,” Lucius says. “I forgot about that.”
She slips a robe on. “You don’t know the half of it.”
He Apparates them to the manor, which is still intact and not on fire, which
Narcissa seems to think is a minor miracle. “They can’t be that bad,” he
protests as they walk up the path from the Apparation point to the manor.
“They’re unregistered Animagi,” she informs him.
“That’s incredible,” he says. “But not that destructive, unless one of them
turns into an elephant.”
“They turned everyone in Slytherin purple with orange stripes for a week last
year, and blew up a bathroom while brewing some sort of potion,” she offers.
He kisses her temple impulsively. “You’d look good in purple and orange.”
She snorts. “I’m sure there’s pictures somewhere.”
They walk through the front door, and Lucius snags a Quaffle out of the air
before it smashes into Narcissa’s face. “I wasn’t a Chaser for nothing,” he
tells her.
She smiles a little, and they observe the chaotic game of indoor Quidditch or
maybe a duel that’s going on. Regulus is on Sirius’s shoulders, attempting to
catch a Snitch someone had let loose. The red-haired witch has her wand out and
is waving it threateningly at James Potter, who has his hands up placatingly.
The shortest of the group is jumping and attempting to catch bacon that’s been
charmed to float around just out of his reach, and the werewolf is standing in
the middle of it all, looking torn between joining in and yelling at them. He’s
the first to spot Lucius and Narcissa, and makes a face that clearly says ‘I am
so sorry’ and ‘this was not my fault’.
Narcissa clears her throat. When that doesn’t work, she draws a silvery rune
and waves it toward the unfolding pandemonium. Everything freezes. “What do you
think you’re doing?” she asks them, unfreezing the werewolf. “Lupin. You’re the
sensible one. Explain.”
Lupin sighs. “Breakfast got a little out of hand.”
Mipsy peers out from the kitchen, eyes wide. “A little!” she squeaks
disparagingly. “Breakfast is being charmed to fly! And there is being a rule
about Quidditch in the manor but no one is listening to Mipsy!”
“It’s okay, Mipsy,” Lucius soothes, summoning a piece of bacon and taking a
bite. “Breakfast is delicious.”
She seems slightly calmer. “Mipsy will be getting tea for Mr. Lucius and Miss
Narcissa,” she decides.
“Thank you, Mipsy,” Narcissa tells her, and turns back to Lupin. “I can see
that breakfast got a little out of hand. That does not, however, explain why
you left Hogwarts.”
Lupin runs a nervous hand through his hair. “Sirius was worried,” he says.
“Just Sirius could have come,” she points out.
He shrugs. “It didn’t seem right, you know? You’re his family, but so are we.”
Narcissa unfreezes James Potter next. “Heir Potter,” she says politely. “Your
mother will be over to collect you and your friends later today and return you
to Hogwarts.”
“Hell,” he mutters. “She’s going to be pissed.”
Though frozen, Lucius is pretty sure the red-haired witch looks pleased at
that.
“Miss Evans and Mr. Pettigrew,” Narcissa says, eyeing the witch and shortest
wizard.
Pettigrew is frozen six inches off of the ground, arm outstretched for a piece
of bacon. He crashes to the ground when she unfreezes them. Evans lowers her
wand, which had been pointed at Potter. “Miss Black,” she says politely.
“My proper title is technically Regent Black now,” Narcissa corrects, with
something akin to amusement.
“Regent Black,” Evans repeats.
“You could always call me Narcissa though,” Narcissa offers.
Lucius watches the two witches with interest. They obviously know each other
quite well, though Evans looks uncomfortable and Narcissa seems tense. He
thinks back to Narcissa telling Regulus to ask Lily Evans if he ever needed
help with anything but didn’t want to owe his Housemates. He remembers her rant
on blood purity, the mention of brilliant Muggle-born, Lily Evans. Lily Evans’
favorite flowers are daisies, something Narcissa had known. He smiles.
“Regent Black,” Lily says firmly. “It would hardly be proper to be too familiar
now, would it?” Lucius is certain he doesn’t imagine the way her eyes flick
toward him.
“I suppose not, Miss Evans,” Narcissa agrees.
Mipsy appears with tea. “Green tea for Miss Narcissa,” she says. “Mipsy is
thinking you is not needing caffeine. Black for Mr. Lucius,” she narrows her
eyes. “Mipsy is knowing you slept in a chair.”
Lucius shrugs. “You got me, Mipsy. I did.”
“Mipsy is being glad Mr. Lucius cares about Miss Narcissa as much as he is
caring about his business,” Mipsy informs him.
“Thank you, Mipsy,” Narcissa takes a sip. “Did you put lemon in this? It’s
excellent.”
The house elf beams. “Lemon is being good when you is sick,” she informs her,
gives Lucius a look, and disappears back to the kitchen.
“Are you feeling better, Regent Black?” Evans asks.
“I’m feeling much better,” Narcissa says. “I’d been cursed, but it was lifted.
The Healer also gave me at least eight different potions. I don’t think I’ve
felt this good in years.”
“Me neither,” Sirius says. “Her name was Kuznetsov, right? Someone should tell
St. Mungo’s about her. Britain could use a Healer like that.”
“She didn’t seem particularly enthralled with the idea of moving to Britain,”
Narcissa says wryly, and Lucius smiles.
“I thought it was just Regent Black seeing a Healer,” Potter says suspiciously.
“What was wrong with you?”
“Too handsome,” Sirius waves dismissively.
“Curse damage,” Regulus says at the same time.
“Will you grant me permission to yell at and possibly punch your cousin, Sirius
Black, Regent Black?” Potter asks tightly.
“He’s your cousin too, Heir Potter. Have at him,” Narcissa shrugs. “Don’t hit
him where it’ll show unless you want to explain it to your mother though.”
Potter drags Sirius out of the room, and the sound of a distant shouting match
begins shortly after.
“Purebloods really are all related,” Evans says, shaking her head.
“My parents were first cousins,” Regulus informs her. “And Narcissa and Sirius
used to be engaged, and Narcissa had an affair with Evan Rosier. He’s her first
cousin.”
“Ignore the oversharing,” Narcissa tells her. “It’s the inbreeding.”
“It’s actually that I haven’t been properly socialized,” Regulus jokes. “I have
webbed toes though. That’s the inbreeding.”
“That must make you a good swimmer,” Evans looks, if possible, even less
comfortable than before.
Narcissa takes pity on her. “He’s joking about the toes.”
Regulus takes off a sock and shows Lily his foot. “See? And Sirius says the
inbreeding just makes our family crazy and infertile, anyway.”
“Sirius is a bad influence,” Narcissa frowns. “And Andromeda had a little girl
a few years ago, so we can’t be completely infertile.”
“I’m not related to any of them,” Lucius offers. “It’s because my father is
French though and the British and French purebloods avoid each other.”
“Well,” says Evans. “I’m a Muggle-born, if it makes you feel any better. I’m
pretty high up on the list of undesirables for British purebloods too.”
“Lily is way nicer than most of the purebloods,” Regulus tells him. “I got lost
on my way to the greenhouses once and she helped me and didn’t even want
anything for it.”
“Do people usually want something from you?” Lucius asks.
Regulus makes a ‘no duh’ face. “I’m the Black heir.”
“I need a nap before Lady Potter gets here,” Narcissa mutters.
Chapter End Notes
     Hope you enjoyed!
End Notes
     At the moment I'm typing this, I have plans to update on a regular
     basis. Thank you.
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