Nightmares for Narcissa
Date: Monday, 1 May, 2000
Time: Early morning, around two or three.
Location: Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire
Characters Involved: Narcissa Malfoy
Incomplete or Complete: Complete
Rating: PG for violent dreams
The wind howled harshly outside, the chinks in the logs of the wall letting in the cold breeze. It whistled as it rushed throughout the one-roomed cabin, blowing a few papers off of the small wooden table. Narcissa pulled the scratchy wool blanket up to her chin and curled herself into a ball. The lumps in the hard cot poked at her hip and arm and no matter how much moving she did there was no escaping them. Outside, she heard footsteps.
"Narcissa…" a soft voice whispered. Whoever it was was just outside the door, his hand resting on the knob. Narcissa didn’t want to look. She shut her eyes tight and willed herself not to cry. A scream, a laugh, a sob. The shouting voice was familiar and she somehow knew who it was without even thinking: a mother’s instinct.
"No!" she shouted, throwing off the thin cover and rushing to the door. She yanked it open and found she was in a clearing in the wood. Voldemort was standing before a pale, kneeling boy. The boy was shirtless, his head bowed and his blonde hair falling into his face. His skin, which was once milky white, was covered with pink scars and fresh red wounds. His back was raw and bleeding. Voldemort had noticed Narcissa and smiled thinly, holding up his wand.
"Crucio!" he hissed. Narcissa’s only son writhed and screamed with pain on the forest floor.
"No! Stop!" she cried, running toward him. Voldemort lowered his wand and Draco lay unmoving on the ground. He was hardly breathing as Narcissa kneeled next to him and pulled him into her lap. Her vision was blurred from tears and she was breathing heavily, her entire body shaking.
"Draco…"
Narcissa awoke with a start, her face wet with tears and cold sweat. Her breathing was irregular and jagged as she looked wildly around, finding herself in her bedroom in Wiltshire. The place next to her was empty; Lucius had not returned home yet. There was a soft knock at the door.
"Madam?” a small voice squeaked from outside. The door opened to reveal Narcissa’s house elf standing in the hallway with a lantern. “Reva has heard you shouting, madam. Did you wants something, madam?”
Narcissa wiped her face with the back of her hand and shook her head.
“No,” she said, dismissing the elf.
It wasn’t unusual for Narcissa to have such vivid dreams about her time spent in the mountains and the threat that Voldemort would find her, but this is the first time she saw her son being tortured. She didn’t even know if it had happened like that, but she had no doubt in her mind that he was both physically and mentally abused. Why else would he have such problems as he did then?
She fell back into her pillows, wishing Lucius were there to hold her and tell her it would all be okay. He was gone much too often for her liking and it was as if she was in that cabin again, alone and afraid. Sighing, she lightly shut her eyes, unsure if she would be able to fall back asleep. After a few moments, she felt herself relaxing again, her eyes closing even more heavily, and her breathing becoming deeper and slower. Her last conscious, comforting thought was that Draco was in his bed at Spinner’s End, fast asleep and safe.
Time: Early morning, around two or three.
Location: Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire
Characters Involved: Narcissa Malfoy
Incomplete or Complete: Complete
Rating: PG for violent dreams
The wind howled harshly outside, the chinks in the logs of the wall letting in the cold breeze. It whistled as it rushed throughout the one-roomed cabin, blowing a few papers off of the small wooden table. Narcissa pulled the scratchy wool blanket up to her chin and curled herself into a ball. The lumps in the hard cot poked at her hip and arm and no matter how much moving she did there was no escaping them. Outside, she heard footsteps.
"Narcissa…" a soft voice whispered. Whoever it was was just outside the door, his hand resting on the knob. Narcissa didn’t want to look. She shut her eyes tight and willed herself not to cry. A scream, a laugh, a sob. The shouting voice was familiar and she somehow knew who it was without even thinking: a mother’s instinct.
"No!" she shouted, throwing off the thin cover and rushing to the door. She yanked it open and found she was in a clearing in the wood. Voldemort was standing before a pale, kneeling boy. The boy was shirtless, his head bowed and his blonde hair falling into his face. His skin, which was once milky white, was covered with pink scars and fresh red wounds. His back was raw and bleeding. Voldemort had noticed Narcissa and smiled thinly, holding up his wand.
"Crucio!" he hissed. Narcissa’s only son writhed and screamed with pain on the forest floor.
"No! Stop!" she cried, running toward him. Voldemort lowered his wand and Draco lay unmoving on the ground. He was hardly breathing as Narcissa kneeled next to him and pulled him into her lap. Her vision was blurred from tears and she was breathing heavily, her entire body shaking.
"Draco…"
Narcissa awoke with a start, her face wet with tears and cold sweat. Her breathing was irregular and jagged as she looked wildly around, finding herself in her bedroom in Wiltshire. The place next to her was empty; Lucius had not returned home yet. There was a soft knock at the door.
"Madam?” a small voice squeaked from outside. The door opened to reveal Narcissa’s house elf standing in the hallway with a lantern. “Reva has heard you shouting, madam. Did you wants something, madam?”
Narcissa wiped her face with the back of her hand and shook her head.
“No,” she said, dismissing the elf.
It wasn’t unusual for Narcissa to have such vivid dreams about her time spent in the mountains and the threat that Voldemort would find her, but this is the first time she saw her son being tortured. She didn’t even know if it had happened like that, but she had no doubt in her mind that he was both physically and mentally abused. Why else would he have such problems as he did then?
She fell back into her pillows, wishing Lucius were there to hold her and tell her it would all be okay. He was gone much too often for her liking and it was as if she was in that cabin again, alone and afraid. Sighing, she lightly shut her eyes, unsure if she would be able to fall back asleep. After a few moments, she felt herself relaxing again, her eyes closing even more heavily, and her breathing becoming deeper and slower. Her last conscious, comforting thought was that Draco was in his bed at Spinner’s End, fast asleep and safe.