The unpopping of Lucius Malfoy ((closed RP: Snape & Narcissa))

[pure_tradition]

((Unpopping Lucius after the proper procedures. =) He doesn't remember his previous time at HH Hogwarts, and will be a very canon characterization. Closed because Lucius is in no state for socializing with strangers.))

It was past midnight, and a butter-sodden man was sitting hunched outside the popcorn room, eyes open, but unmoving and seemingly

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[pure_tradition]

Lucius in fact expected Narcissa to place Draco as her highest priority- it was the proper way of things. Their son was the future of the Malfoy family, in which Lucius centered many of his hopes for the future. A future which was becoming dubious at best- he was beginning to wonder if in fact the Dark Lord's approach was the best of plans. The overall ground gained was not, to his knowledge, on par with the difficulty it was creating for his family, or for himself. Azkaban had provided plenty of time for reflecting on this.

He listened carefully to Narcissa's explanation- this 'popcorn' was a magic he was unfamilar with, but he could sense that Narcissa felt confidence in it being a sort of ward for their son. And her judgement on the matter meant a great deal to him- he knew that if she were to have any doubts at all of Draco's safety, they would have been voiced. "When I saw our son's name on that plaque, I thought it just another mockery conjured by the dementors. I don't understand this nonsense that is Hogwarts but not our Hogwarts, but if you say it is so I trust that our son is safe. But how did you come to be here, Narcissa? I do not complain that you are, not when it means that we are together again, but I worry about what it means." Whatever magic was going on, it was entirely unfamiliar, and did not seem to bode particularly well, even if Draco was safe due to being under a 'popcorn' enchantment.

[not_so_stellar]

The very mention of dementors blanched her already pale face, and made her squeeze her husband's hands a bit tighter, as much to reassure herself of his reality as to reassure him of hers. "It's simply strange, that's all. If Severus can navigate it, we certainly can." Severus, after all, was a half-breed. (Never mind that Narcissa herself had been all but hiding out in Severus' rooms ever since her own unpopcorning, and that she relied on him to do the actual dirty work of interfacing with the school.)

She bit her lip.

"I'm afraid I haven't been very brave," she admitted. "I have no real idea how I came to be here, only that Severus was here and that he has suffered a great deal of -- of nonsense, as you say. There are other wizards here too, respectable ones, he says. Gellert Grindelwald has been here." There was something approaching awe, if not reverence, in that name when she said it. Grindelwald's ideals were the ethical underpinnings that made the Dark Lord's revolutionary agenda respectable, to Narcissa's mind. "I have not seen Grindelwald," she hastened to clarify. "Though Severus did introduce me to a young friend of his, who is not even from the wizarding circles we would recognize, but certainly not a Muggle."

The entire social register of the wizarding world, going back generations, had been well-nigh engraved in young Narcissa Black's memory by mother, grandmother, and the redoubtable Aunt Walburga. If she did not recognize a name, she could be positive it was no one from their wizarding world.

[pure_tradition]

For the time, Lucius was content to accept Narcissa's explanation that the magic affecting this Hogwarts that wasn't their Hogwarts was 'simply strange'. His unexpected displacement combined with everything else was enough to attempt to understand already, and the nature of the wierd magic at play could wait until another day. It would take Lucius some time to realize that he wasn't likely to go to sleep and wake up back in Azkaban, even if he was beginning to accept his surroundings real. No hallucination could replicate his wife's touch in such a way, a touch he'd been longing for all his long months in prison, and, couldn't even think about while under the dementor's influence, lest the thoughts be twisted into his fears.

The news that Gellert Grindelwald had recently been at Hogwarts was both remarkable and somewhat unsettling, as, Lucius' admiration for the man was unquestionable. But to the best of his knowledge, Grindelwald was still firmly imprisoned, and his infamy in the wizarding world was such that if he had escaped, it seemed to Lucius that the news would have seeped even into Azkaban. And, Severus would not have lied to Narcissa about having met him- it had to be true. Grindelwald's presence implied that the magic involved was extremely strange, and likely to be extremely powerful. He managed something of the ghost of a smile at Narcissa, the expression difficult to summon up after so many long months in Azkaban- he wanted her to know that he could not blame her for any self-admitted lack of bravery in the circumstances. "This is a strange magic, Narcissa, and, until we understand it, 'bravery' might be rashness. I'm sure you've made the right choices, the wise ones, even if they do not appear to be the brave ones," he told her, attempting to reassure. "And now we are together again, and we will face this strange magic together."

Lucius of course interpreted Narcissa's description of Lezard as that of a foreign wizard, rather than one from another world. "So Hogwarts is accepting foreign students, now?" It seemed a silly choice in light of all the issues at Hogwarts over recent years. True, he'd been mostly responsible for one of these major issues, but, he'd had good reason for it, as in his opinion, the removal of Dumbledore would greatly benefit the institution, and the board needed some motivation. "Let us hope that most foreigners are purebloods, at least- if Dumbledore is taking in foreign mudbloods now, it is no wonder that the school has fallen into this bizarre state."

[not_so_stellar]

Even a faint smile, even a reassurance grounded less in certainty than in caution, were to Narcissa a benediction -- no, an absolution. She had believed herself genuinely remiss in failing to confront the disorder of this present Hogwarts. It was the duty of the pureblood class to set an example by action; she should have shown her face, and demonstrated proper deportment, and made it clear to the rabble that wizarding Britain still had its backbone, whatever foolishness Dumbledore might have allowed.

It was not only the fondness of a doting mother that had prompted Narcissa to insist her son be sent to Hogwarts rather than one of the schools on the Continent.

She bowed her head, accepting Lucius' grace as it was bestowed. "As you say, there is strange magic here. I am so thankful that Draco is not here --" That said much, from Narcissa, who rejoiced in the very sight of her son, and for whom the annual autumnal send-off was almost physically painful. Present disorder quite aside, if the Dark Lord had placed unkind burdens upon her family, how much more could she expect of Grindelwald? "The task laid upon him was too great. I do not know whether Severus told you -- Draco was commanded to do something he ought not have been asked to do, and Severus had to do it for him, in the end." Because I asked, she did not have to say. Severus had old and profound obligations to the Malfoy family, through Lucius' father. "It was to kill Dumbledore, and now that whole awful year was for nothing, as Dumbledore is here at the school after all.

"The man's role is unclear to me. From what Severus says, I believe he wants it to be thought he has little or no responsibility for the school's decline. He is not the Headmaster anymore, or even a professor, so he claims."

Her skepticism was clear from the tug at her upper lip -- not a smile, nearly a sneer. Dumbledore, to her, was worse than contemptible. He was nothing less than a traitor to wizard-kind. At his doorstep could be laid decades of needless strife and turmoil, affecting Narcissa's own family in deep and personal ways that could not be forgiven.

"Yet here he remains, and he does have an office." (She knew Dumbledore had an office because Severus had mentioned going to take tea there.) "As Severus has one, though he will have to relinquish it, since he has been convinced it serves no purpose for him to demean himself in association with the faculty." Conversation between Severus and his friend Lezard had made that clear, and Lezard had been the one to persuade Severus, but Narcissa did not know how much she really needed to say where that was concerned. Severus had always had attachments, and Narcissa did not care much about them, or think them relevant to anything important. Severus might have been redeemed by Abraxas Malfoy's interest and his subsequent decades of service, but he was born a mudblood, and that would mean certain tendencies toward the unorthodox and ill-advised.

Narcissa was observant. She was also selective, and prejudiced, and more than a little sheltered. Her observations would always be colored by these things.

"If Dumbledore is not at fault, what are we to believe? That the Sorting Hat is the mastermind behind all the foolishness that goes on here? That is what we are asked to believe. It's preposterous. It needs a strong hand to sort it out."

[pure_tradition]

Lucius would agree that it would indeed be their duty to attempt to set an example for whatever strange corruption had befallen Hogwarts, but in light of its oddness, he never for a moment thought that Narcissa had failed in her lack of confronting it. Although it was possible that Gellert Grindelwald was present, the only sure family ally that Narcissa had spoken of was Snape. Once Lucius became more settled in, and realized that a return to Azkaban was not immanent, it was certain that he would desire to confront and sort out the situation afflicting the school. But until then, it was time to be grateful for those things that he did have, a quiet moment with his wife he thought he'd never share again.

As Lucius listened to Narcissa's explanations of Draco's tasks, he began to wonder if he'd simply reached a new level of madness within the wizard prison's walls. He'd spent those long months in fear of the punishments the Dark Lord would potentially inflict upon his family, and, now he was hearing precisely the sort of thing he'd dreaded. That their son, not yet of age, would be given a task he was almost certainly not ready for, a task he would fail, for which the Dark Lord would kill him. It took a moment of horror for the words to settle in. 'Severus had to do it for him, in the end'. . . It sounded as if Dumbledore had been killed. This would have been a matter to celebrate, had he died and remained properly dead, but, it sounded as if he was still present at this twisted version of Hogwarts.

If it were not for Narcissa's touch, this news would have had him wondering about his sanity for a while, but, the hands upon his were so familiar, too stable and real to be a product of his mind. Which, in some ways, was more horrifying than all his months in Azkaban. The Dark Lord had sentenced his beloved son to almost certain death, even if it hadn't been phrased that way. Dumbledore was an old fool, but a very capable old fool. Setting an underaged wizard against one of the most capable wizards of their era was unquestionably unbalanced, and the knowledge that Draco had suffered under this burden for so many months, and without Lucius even being aware of it, was enough to make him feel mildly ill. He mentally cursed the Potter brat, whose dumb luck had been responsible for his failure at the Ministry- how the hell did the Dark Lord expect his Death Eaters to consistently succeed against Potter's consistent flaunting of basic statistics? As had often happened over recent months, he began to doubt that the Dark Lord's service was actually in the best interest of his family.

"It sounds as if our family owes Severus a deep debt of gratitude," he told Narcissa. "If Severus has no desire to teach here any longer, Hogwarts has fallen far indeed." The thought of Severus willingly giving up a position at Hogwarts reflected upon something truly rotten at its core- Severus was a determined man, and it was possible that his birth as a mudblood actually lent a great deal to his determination. Lucius had watched Severus strive to rise above his birth, and had watched him succeed far more admirably than most. It didn't change that he was a mudblood, but, it said a great deal about this new Hogwarts.

"As for Dumbledore. . . as if the state of this school could be anything but that old fool's fault! If he is not the headmaster, who is?" The latter was clearly a rhetorical question- if there was a Dumbledore at Hogwarts, Lucius could not envision him doing anything but headmastering which is not a word, but the mun's using it anyway. Lucius doubted that Dumbledore would leave Hogwarts alone for as long as his heart was beating. "We will sort this out somehow, Narcissa. We will learn the truth of what is going on, even if I have to force it out of Dumbledore at wandpoint. . . " A wand which had been taken away from him upon his incarceration. "Do you know what happened to my wand? Is it back at the manor?" It was not so petty a question as it might have seemed- a wand was a necessity, especially in such an uncertain atmosphere.

[not_so_stellar]

"The house elves have maintained the manor, and I have directed that some personal effects be removed -- very discreetly; I did not wish to return there myself." Which said a good deal about Narcissa's assessment of her family's standing in the Dark Lord's favor during Lucius' imprisonment. She loved and cherished Malfoy Manor, her dear husband's ancestral home and her son's birthright, a place whose custodianship she felt to be a grave personal responsibility. That she not only avoided the place but feared to be seen there -- who could have foreseen she would ever have cause?

The most cherished heirlooms, of course, had been spirited away immediately upon Lucius' arrest, before the Ministry could send blood-traitors and lackeys like Weasley to scour the manor for the sorts of things that their myopic regulations had outlawed. Lucius' wand was a thing they had no legal right to confiscate, however, and Narcissa had kept it with his other habitual appurtenances -- his cloak hanging with the others as though he would come home any day to wear it; his serpent's-head cane standing on its rack, concealing its master's wand within.

These things and others she had kept in their ordinary places through his imprisonment, refusing to put them away, and whatever had happened that caused Narcissa to become popcorn, the manor had survived it intact (or so it was reported to her by the family's house-elves), no sign of intrusion at all. They were able to bring her everything she asked for, as little as she had dared to have them take, and she called one of the Hogwarts house-elves to bring them out now from their concealment within one of Severus' closets.

Trivial things, no arcane artifacts or objects of power, but his shaving kit would be there too.

[pure_tradition]

Lucius nodded sadly, but appreciatively- he too realized that returning to the manor might prove incredibly unwise, and unfortunately, not due to the Ministry. They'd have dug through it as soon as they could after his arrest, and, he was already certain that his wife would have dealt with most of their questionable possessions before this could occur. No, it was the Dark Lord who was the danger, and he knew it as well as his wife did. "I would not have wished you to return there yourself, not when you are here, and safe." Or so he hoped- there was no proof that the strange magic effecting Hogwarts was any sort of real security against the Dark Lord, but, if Narcissa had discovered any sign of his interest, he was sure that she would have mentioned it.

When the house-elf drew his serpent-headed cane from the closet, Lucius felt a renewed surge of hope and relief. He still had his wife, his wand, and, his son, even if the latter was apparently in an enchanted state. It was a safe enchanted state. There remained a chance that everything would be alright, although he had no ideas as to how he might possibly assuage the Dark Lord's anger. His wand, his cloak, even his shaving kit- he had to smile again, love and pride in his wife a stronger emotion than the clinging fear of Azkaban. "Thank you, Narcissa," he told her, as he drew the wand from its concealment, the familiar feel of it in his hand bolstering his spirits and determination.

"I never doubted that you would do all you could for the family, for Draco, while I was. . .away. And I am sorry that you had to, it all should have gone very differently." The only person who would ever hear a genuine apology from Lucius about anything was his wife. She would know it for what it was, a sign of his love for her, and not a weakness. He was not apologizing for the failed attempt at the Ministry, as the plan had been a perfectly good one, if the Potter brat had a single ounce of sensibility. The Death Eaters had not been banking on Potter callously risking the lives of several other kids. But, no- the brat had to go and bring a bunch of his friends, whose blind beginner's luck paid off. What Lucius regretted was the burden that his wife had to carry for the last year, one which he would not have forced upon her had it been avoidable.

[not_so_stellar]

She had thought she was hiding; only now she knew she had really been waiting, all these months, now that he was here and she realized he was what she'd been waiting for.

A very significant measure of her distress, all through Draco's disturbing sixth year at Hogwarts, could be traced to this source: without Lucius to light her path and lend her strength, Narcissa never could feel completely sure of the course she took. She might have spent that year muffled in the safe silence of the Manor, were it not for her son's plight. Severus' help had been something of a comfort, but for heaven's sake, she had needed to force the man to an Unbreakable Vow to have any real measure of peace. One could never be completely certain of Snape's loyalties, no matter what assurances of faith Narcissa flung in the face of Bellatrix's disbelief.

Lucius' apology -- I am sorry that you had to, it all should have gone very differently -- she knew for what it was. Of course everything should have gone differently. Of course Lucius was not at fault, nor should he ever say he had been. Of course, he should never need to apologize to her, even if he ever did anything in which he could be held at fault, because from her, he would always already have unconditional understanding. She knew that Lucius always did what he had to do, what had to be done; and that he did not waste his time on efforts unlikely to yield the best result.

He had always been that way, even at school, even when they were children. Lucius was always right, so effortlessly that it would be very difficult to envy him or resent him for it. He simply was right, the way he was beautiful, a natural state of being for him.

Narcissa liked to think Draco took after his father in that way.

(Draco had better. There was no understudy waiting in the wings, should Draco fail to meet the Malfoy standard of perfection. Therefore, it was unthinkable that Draco should fail. Of course he was perfect. And, since he was popcorn, no one could threaten his safety; so there was that.)

"Now that you are here, there is so much to do," she said. Happily. Nest-building was what she did. "We can't possibly impose upon Severus' hospitality." Even though she had done just that for months; that was different. Now Lucius was here, the Malfoys would need to establish themselves properly. She was sure she could carve out a suitable suite of rooms somewhere, amid the confusion and decline of once-orderly dormitories and long-vacant classrooms. "I will see to the arrangements for living quarters, and when you are quite rested, you will want a look around ... Hogwarts. Oh, it's not even worthy of the name any more, from what I have heard."

But she did not want Lucius up and storming around Hogwarts too soon, either. Azkaban ... dementors ... she knew her husband to be a man of indomitable will, but indomitable will was no panacea against the real physical effects of imprisonment under Dementor supervision.

[pure_tradition]

Lucius would have insisted that there was a distinct difference between hiding, and, taking the necessary time to understand one's position and situation before taking the necessary action. The former he'd never have even thought to accuse Narcissa of, and, he intended to do his fair share of the latter as well. At least, he intended to when he'd had time to properly readjust to his surroundings- he was still not ready to strike out and investigate this new Hogwarts, now while the chill of Azkaban still lingered in his bones. He was drained both mentally and physically, and the only truly appealing concepts were the company of his wife, and sleep. Ideally dreamless sleep. There was no sound slumber at Azkaban.

It was the contrast between Azkaban and an atmosphere not permeated by the influence of the dementors that likely served to calm Lucius somewhat. If it were not for the soul-rending variety of horror present at Azkaban, the horror of a different Hogwarts would have set in much more quickly. Established places like Hogwarts didn't change drastically overnight, and never had. Plenty of layers of bureaucracy saw to that well. Something very unusual must have happened, but, that something remained nothing but a vague inkling in the back of his mind, something to dwell on at a later time.

He was glad to see that his arrival had lifted his wife's spirits, pleased to see her enthusiastic about setting up a home of sorts, even if it was not their home. Returning there was out of the question- whatever was wrong with Hogwarts, it appeared they had at least a semblance of security. "I am sure that you will find us admirable quarters, and that it shall be almost like home." He reached up to brush back some strands of her hair, lightly stroking her cheek. He still held his wand with his other hand- the feel of it kept reminding him that his wife's presence was not just some impossible vision. He had no doubt that Narcissa would put forth her best effort to make something that reminded them of the surroundings they were used to. Not that he would be too difficult to please- after Azkaban, even Hagrid's hut would have seemed sumptuous. For a few weeks, at least.

For, it was certain that Lucius would not be content once the insidious effects of Azkaban started to properly fade. It would be impossible, once he witnessed exactly how far Hogwarts had fallen. He had no proper idea of just how bad it was when he reassured Narcissa, "If Hogwarts is no longer worth of its name, we shall restore it. You, and I, and Severus." Lucius assumed that Severus would choose to act in the best interests of the school- this was perhaps an indication of just how far off his estimate of Hogwarts' current condition was. Lucius believed his wife, but, he was picturing a sensible level of wrongness, easily redeemable with a bit of effort and well-placed 'donations'. Not talking dogs, demons, non-house Elves, and a horde of halfbreeds, mudbloods, and even dragons. "But that can wait until tomorrow, until another day."