[Wednesday one-shots]: Narcissa Triumphant, Lucius/Narcissa, H/D, PG-13, 7.6/7
Chapter Five.
Part One.
Title: Narcissa Triumphant (6/13)
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairing: Harry/Draco, Lucius/Narcissa
Content Notes: Angst, violence, minor character deaths, gore, torture, crack AU (Narcissa is an assassin)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Narcissa has a war on two fronts to fight, with Voldemort and with the Ministry. But when winning such wars is necessary to avenge her family and keep them safe, her enemies are the ones who will regret their actions.
Author’s Notes: Welcome to the seventh and final fic in the Narcissa series, the AU of DH. This really won’t make any sense at all if you haven’t read the other fics in the series, so do that first.
Thank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Six-Laying Out
“I want to talk to you, Professor Malfoy.”
Moody growled the words in a way that was probably meant as a threat. Honestly, Narcissa had heard better threats from three-legged bees. (Breaking into that house with bee guardians had been an adventure). She turned around with a polite smile and an inclination of her head. “As you wish, Professor Moody.”
Moody glared at the students in the corridor who had halted to stare at them and then jerked his head towards the nearest door, where his office was. “In there. Now.”
Narcissa sighed at the rudeness, but moved in the direction he suggested. Moody slammed the door hard enough that the walls quivered, and stomped over to stand in front of her. Narcissa plotted ways to shove him off-balance and kept her face calm and neutral at the same time.
“You’re encouraging my students to disrespect me.”
“I’m concerned to hear that, Professor Moody. What has been happening?”
Moody’s nostrils flared. He hadn’t expected the courtesy, but then, few people expected a courteous assassin. “You’ve been telling them that my perspective on the war isn’t true,” he muttered finally.
“I thought of that as a fair exchange of opinions. I know that you have been telling the students that our perspective on the war isn’t true. I corrected those students who sought me out as to the factual inaccuracies.”
“Factual inaccuracies! Your husband was a bloody Death Eater!”
“Please don’t swear at me, Professor Moody,” Narcissa murmured with all the grace she could summon. She was taking mental notes so as to create an interesting document for the Ministry later. “As I said, we have a difference of opinion. When someone asks me about what I believe, I will answer. I am not deliberately lying or undermining you.”
“You could tell the truth.”
“I am.”
“You are not!”
Narcissa spread her fingers in a slight helpless gesture. “And here we’ve reached the point where we both sound five years old. Is this going to take much longer, Professor Moody? I have classes to prepare for.”
The old man stared at her. Narcissa waited and calmly held his eyes. There were a number of things he could do now, and nearly every path they might take was to her advantage, not his.
Moody finally huffed and said, soft and low, “When your husband is called to fight for Voldemort again, then we’ll find out who the students believe.”
“It won’t happen, but thank you for thinking of us,” Narcissa said to him, with a small, regal nod, and walked towards the door.
The curse at her back was wordless, but Narcissa was only all the more prepared for it; the gathering magic in the air was enough to warn her, and the swish of his wand. Narcissa ducked neatly and came up leaning against one of the chairs in front of Moody’s desk. The curse ate into the wall and dripped green, poisonous-looking acid down the stone.
“Well,” Narcissa said softly. She could have said something else, done something else, but Moody got away with as much as he did because of his reputation. When she destroyed that, it would be as effective as destroying someone else’s body would be.
“Should have let me hit you with that. Should have let me put you out of your misery. Your sons might grow up into decent people if they didn’t have you around and stayed away from their father.”
Narcissa turned her head slowly and let her eyes meet Moody’s. The man didn’t have enough sense to pause. He snorted at her and stumped over to sit behind his desk, apparently forgetting her existence in favor of a stack of essays.
Narcissa left. The words were practically writing themselves in her head.
*
“And then he fired a curse at you?”
“Yes, Acting Minister.”
Rufus Scrimgeour stared at her as if waiting for the punchline. Of course, he was one of her allies because he was good at picking out nuances, and he knew more about what she was really like than some of these fools. He would expect lies and evasions and exaggerations that took advantage of some vulnerability Moody had showed.
But that was precisely the reason Narcissa had come to him with the truth and nothing but the truth. Even the Pensieve memories she could give and the documents of student opinions were only bare facts. She sat in front of Scrimgeour with her hands folded and her eyes down.
“I’ve never known Moody...why would you say he did it?”
“I can only speculate, Acting Minister. He didn’t actually state his motives to me.”
“Well, speculate then.”
Narcissa looked up demurely. “Off the record, sir?”
Scrimgeour waved an irritable hand.
“He told me that my sons might be decent people if they grew up without me and stayed away from my husband. He was at least implying that he wanted to kill me and spare them growing up with me. He might have been joking, of course,” Narcissa added softly.
Scrimgeour closed his eyes and sighed long and hard. “I suppose these deficiencies didn’t show up when he was an Auror because he was surrounded by people who thought exactly like him,” he muttered. “We’re not exactly a broad-minded lot.”
Narcissa widened her eyes and said nothing.
Scrimgeour looked hard at her. “You feel that he is a credible threat to your life?”
Narcissa lied for the first time since entering the Ministry. “I do, sir. I never thought he would use a curse like that. After seeing what the acid did to the stone, I can only shudder when I imagine what it could have done to me.”
Scrimgeour nodded as if he’d expected her to say that. “Very well. Then I’m going to call Moody in and have a talk with him. He’ll have to understand the different expectations in place if he’s going to continue being a professor.”
Narcissa, of course, knew that would not be enough. She wanted him destroyed. But she had already begun to walk that path. She nodded and stood. “Of course. I would also appreciate it if you enjoined him to remember that he is not fighting the war over again.”
“Please explain what you mean by that, Professor Malfoy.”
“Only that he spends large portions of his Defense classes telling stories to the students about the first war. A few of them have complained to me about it because they thought he was trying to turn them against my sons and perhaps other students who have acquitted Death Eater parents.” Narcissa gave the apologetic smile of someone who hardly wanted to trouble the Acting Minister with such tales. “I hope that he can understand why this wouldn’t be acceptable.”
“I don’t suppose you have documentation of those complaints?”
“I do, actually, Acting Minister. But not with me. Would you like me to send it to you by owl?”
Scrimgeour sighed. He obviously knew when he was beaten. “Of course, Professor Malfoy. I assume that it will include student names and dates? And that the students who gave you this information ware willing to testify to it in court?”
“It’s as though you read my mind, Acting Minister.”
Scrimgeour actually put his hand over his face for a minute. But he had known what she was when he allied with her. He sighed again and sat back. “Please send the documentation as soon as you can, Professor Malfoy. I’ll want to speak with some of those students once I’ve spoken with Alastor, but I know you’ll have them ready and willing.”
Narcissa smiled at him.
“Please go back to Hogwarts.”
*
“I want to do something permanent to him.”
“I would ask that you at least wait until I have ruined his reputation within the Ministry,” Narcissa murmured, not looking up from her marking. She did wonder how even first-years could mistake Mercury for Saturn.
“He tried to kill you, Mother.”
“And so did Voldemort, but he is still alive. I prefer the lingering revenge.”
Draco huffed and threw himself on the couch in her quarters. Narcissa hid her smile the way she had with Scrimgeour as she carefully circled the wrong answer in red ink and wrote the correct one next to it. Her son had few fits of teenage dramatics, but perhaps it was reasonable for him to have one over this.
“Can Harry kill him?”
“I have promised myself the pleasure of taking his life. But Harry can help. And you can help if you want to.”
Draco rolled over. “How? I don’t have the training you gave Harry.”
“I was thinking that you could help with ruining his reputation, the way you already have by controlling your reactions in his class and encouraging other students to talk to me about their problems with him. But if you want a more active role than that…”
“I do.” Draco abruptly stood up and came over to stand in front of her desk. Narcissa looked up at him, wondering when her son had grown so tall. “Mother, first you almost died because you fought a werewolf army, and then you almost died just because you were speaking to another professor in his office. I can’t do anything about Voldemort or the werewolves right now. Let me do something about Moody.”
Narcissa considered him. Draco’s jaw was clenched in the way that always meant trouble when it was Lucius doing it. She nodded slowly.
“You can only help, however, Draco. You cannot take over completely. I have certain things that I intend to do to Moody, and while I understand why you want to help, your help is welcomed to a limited extent right now.”
“I understand,” Draco said earnestly. “Helping is all I’ll ask for.” He hesitated, then leaned forwards and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you, Mother. You never-you’ll never know just what I felt when I saw how magically exhausted you were the day after you fought off the werewolves. I never want to see you like that again. I want to be there to help you the way you were always there to help me.”
Narcissa smiled. There were times, when Draco was five or six years old, that she had despaired of teaching him to love anyone but himself.
But Draco loved his family and would make sacrifices for them.
She had succeeded.
*
Moody glared at her the next day in a fashion that said Scrimgeour had indeed called him into his office. But of course, he took no warning from it. That afternoon, he tried to curse her in the back as she left lunch.
Narcissa sidestepped neatly, but this time, she raised a shield. They were out in the open, after all, and what would have happened if a curse had hit one of their dear students?
“Professor Malfoy! I challenge you to a duel!”
Narcissa felt her eyebrows creep up. Well, this was unexpected. She considered Moody from head to foot, or at least from magical eye to wooden leg, and shook her head. “Are you sure this is something you want to do, Professor Moody?”
“You heard me, Professor Malfoy! Or are you frightened?”
“I wanted to spare your remaining relatives the cost of a funeral,” Narcissa said, and turned away to consider where the best dueling arena would be. The Room of Requirement would have been ideal if she wanted to betray its secrets, but as it was, somewhere outside the walls of the castle would suit her. She turned to open her mouth and make the suggestion to Moody.
Another curse was already heading towards her, one that shimmered with all the colors of the Called Conflagration that would cause a wildfire.
Narcissa slammed her shield into place again. As expected before a curse that strong, it held only a moment before breaking apart, but Narcissa had anticipated that. She was already triggering one of the small silver amulets that clung to a necklace around her throat, looking like beads on a larger piece.
The shield that sprang up and wrapped around the curse took the form of an enormous pair of silvery jaws. It ate the curse and rent it into small, brightly-colored motes. Narcissa touched the amulet again, and the magic ceased, although it had trapped the curse and could cast it back again at Moody if necessary.
“Dark Arts!” Moody roared, and pointed his wand.
“Alastor Moody!”
Minerva had an impressive voice when she wanted to, Narcissa thought, turning to look at the Headmistress. She was on her feet, both hands braced on the professors’ table as she leaned forwards, and the look on her face could have frozen some of the assassins Narcissa had faced. Moody turned to stare at her, still clutching his wand.
“She used Dark Arts,” Moody said, and Narcissa bit her lip to stop from laughing at how like a sulky adolescent he sounded.
“You are not to duel in a room with students in it,” Minerva said. Her voice was still glacial. She walked slowly down from the table and towards them, every stride reminding Narcissa of how the Dark Lord would have liked to look. “What did I see but you throwing a curse at Professor Malfoy’s unprotected back? And when she used defensive magic meant to stop it from hitting the students, you accused her.”
“She has been making unfounded accusations about me!”
“At the moment, I can think of several founded ones she could make!” Minerva shouted at him, and that finally seemed to stun Moody into realizing that she wasn’t on his side. He staggered back a step, then started to scowl again, but apparently had the good sense to keep his wand lowered, for which Narcissa was a little sorry.
Minerva took a deep breath and went on. “There are paths that you could follow to combat unfounded accusations, Alastor. Trying to curse Professor Malfoy in the back is none of them.”
“You don’t understand about this woman and the Dark Arts she uses!” Moody apparently had decided that he might as well go down with all banners flying. He pointed a finger at Narcissa, who looked at it politely. “You don’t understand how evil she is and can be! What she can do when fighting off a werewolf army-”
“How does that give you license to curse her in the back outside a standard dueling ring, Alastor?”
“You put down rabid dogs! You don’t let them bite you!”
Narcissa caught a glimpse of Draco, his eyes glittering with arctic fury, and judged that Moody had just made a mistake that was going to cost him more than he could ever guess. She shook her head and sighed a little.
“That is enough, Alastor,” Minerva said. She looked a little tight-lipped herself, but that was enough like her normal expression that Narcissa wasn’t sure that it was related. “You have made your complaints. They have been heard. You have also issued a formal challenge that I am not sure I heard accepted or refuted.” She looked at Narcissa. “Do you agree to duel Professor Moody, Professor Malfoy?”
“I had thought I would accept,” said Narcissa, holding the man’s eyes. “But I have now been witness to three curses cast outside the confines of the dueling ring. I am not sure that I trust Professor Moody to follow the rules.”
“Three? I only saw two now.”
“There was an incident a few days ago when Professor Moody tried to curse me when I was in his office. In the back, once again. It does seem to be his preferred target. I find myself wondering if his reputation for being a skilled fighter is exaggerated.”
Moody swung his wand up. This time, though, Minerva was quicker. “Expelliarmus!”
Moody’s wand soared into her hand. Moody turned a betrayed glance on her. Minerva didn’t yield a hairsbreadth. “Professor Malfoy’s question is fair. You keep trying to break the rules of honorable conduct, Professor Moody. Will you hold by them if you duel her?”
Moody said nothing, but bared his teeth. Narcissa tilted her head. It seemed that she had misestimated Moody. Yes, the destruction of his reputation was still the thing that would hurt him most, but he had almost lost his mind the minute it began. Even a mild scolding from Scrimgeour-and Narcissa knew it would have been mild, with an Auror of Moody’s acknowledged prowess-had made him leap over the edge.
“I do not trust him, I am afraid,” Narcissa said, and made a little helpless motion with one hand, delighting in the way that Moody’s eyes brightened with contained rage. “Even the way he looks at me now is the way that, yes, one would look at a rabid dog.”
“I am going to kill you.” Moody didn’t seem to be aware of their audience, the students who were shrinking back from him and Minerva taking a step forwards. His attention was focused entirely on her. “For what you did to the world, for the practice of Dark Arts, for shielding your Death Eater husband and corrupting the Boy-Who-Lived. I am going to ruin you.”
Narcissa sighed a little and glanced at Minerva. “You see what I have been dealing with?”
“You have my word that Professor Moody will be leaving tomorrow,” said Minerva, and her face really was white now. “I had no idea-I am sorry, Professor Malfoy. It was never my intention to frighten you.”
Narcissa had never had to resist laughter with such tenacity. She only nodded, with a slow, funeral motion, and walked into the corridor with the same slowness.
She knew Moody would probably have tried to curse her again if he had had his wand. She would have been ready for him, but this was more satisfying. The slow tearing apart of his heroic image, and his influence over the students he had tried so hard to turn against her, Draco, and Harry…
It was so sweet that Narcissa wondered if she should have engineered it so fast. This much sugar was probably bad for her.
Chapter Seven.
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