(no subject)
I have a new fic up at fanfiction.net! Lucius/Narcissa, I think /maybe/ the last of my fics about them. Possibly. I may write another about them in childhood, but I doubt I'll be doing any more prison-love ficlets.
After Bellatrix had told her all that had happened in the Department of Mysteries, Narcissa Malfoy had flown to the Ministry, not caring that she was in her nightgown and her golden hair was a jungle framing her face. She was in a frenzy, her way of coping when life delivered her something less than she had hoped for, or even expected.
The Ministry officials had eyed her with disdain, taking in her tattered appearance most unfit for a wealthy pure-blood lady that always, always, presented herself with grace and elegance.
“Your husband is in jail, Mrs. Malfoy,” one of them said, his patience wearing thin as she asked the same question over and over, hoping that by a miraculous streak of good fortune the response would be different, breaking out into laughter and telling her it was all an elaborate prank.
“He can’t be,” she said softly, as she finally took the seat that was offered to her. “He just can’t be. He’s Lucius Malfoy…he’s my husband. How could he be arrested?” It was remarkable, really, how far a whisper could carry, because before she knew it what seemed like every worker in the Ministry was eyeing her as she broke into sobs, watching the inevitable breakdown of the most elegant pure-blood woman in England .
No one offered her a handkerchief or a sleeve to wipe her tears on, so she had to make do with her arm as her tears flew down her cheeks rapidly. “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she said. Her voice raised as she finally looked around her and summoned her best glare. “How dare you?” She could already feel hopelessness replaced by anger. “How dare any of you arrest my husband?” Tears still lingered on her face, but she had been consumed by rage.
“None of you are worthy to touch him, let alone throw him in a cell,” she screamed, finally letting her fear and her anger and her despair out into a yell that ripped through the halls. “You are a disgrace!” She paused to catch her breath, and as she did so a witch chanced to take her arm and lead her aside. A glare from Narcissa caused the witch to jump back hurriedly.
Narcissa raised her wand, not caring what was proper or what was not. Those rules of etiquette were meaningless in a world where the love of your life had been taken away, where suddenly everything you knew was swiped from under you. You fell a long way, but you had to get to your feet and start climbing out of the hole that others had dug for you.
She began to utter a curse - she was so far gone into her fury that she had no idea what it was, but she suspected later that it was the Cruciatus, for she had wanted to inflict as much pain upon people that seemed to enjoy hers as possible - but she was stopped as an elderly wizard disarmed her.
She had no weapon, and she was not an Amazon like her sister Bellatrix, who would have fought to the death if need be. Reason returned to her in that moment, and she let herself fall back, getting back into the chair. But she would not return to the crying or the despair. She would make her demands as a Black and a Malfoy should.
“Where is he?” she asked calmly, her temper that had flared so suddenly now under control. “I’d like to see him, please.” She couldn’t bear now to say his name when she had all but understood what was likely to happen, for that would make everything real. Although most of her had accepted what was happening now, there was the smallest part of her that still desperately needed to live in denial.
There were murmurs all around at this flighty woman that was a harpy one moment and one of the graces the next. Narcissa added a charming smile - her society smile - for effect, and it worked. Perhaps this view of the Narcissa beneath the surface had unnerved them, and indeed Narcissa thought that shock was the only reason that they had agreed to her request.
He didn’t look like he had been in prison for long, which was good, she thought. She didn’t want to see the hopelessness and the despair; she wanted her husband. His eyes filled with emotion as she neared him and was let into the cell he was being kept in.
“What did you do?” she asked softly as she willed herself not to burst out sobbing onto him. “Why did you do it?”
“I had to,” he murmured as he dug his fingers into her back when they embraced. “It was what the Dark Lord ordered.”
“You shouldn’t have.” Her voice was strong as she told him to deny everything that he had ever decided he would stand for and to defy the most powerful wizard in the world. He admired her in that moment so much that he thought his heart would break.
He put his lips to her messy hair. “No, I shouldn’t have. You’re right,” he agreed.
“How long?” she asked, swiftly changing the subject to what was more important in the here and now. “Please, not long.”
He didn’t want to disappoint her, but she would know if he lied. “They’ll keep me here for as long as they can. At least a year, most likely more. All I did was break and enter, but they do know I’m a Death Eater.” He paused as she went still in his arms, as if she was a porcelain statue on the verge of cracking into a thousand pieces. He prayed that if the disaster happened, someday he would have the chance and ability to put her together again.
“How do you expect me to stand it?” she asked, less to him than to all the forces that seemed to control their world where they were just pawns being moved around by giants.
He couldn’t expect her to stand it, he couldn’t even imagine her being content or even laughing for a moment when he was not there. Yet he had to reassure her, and the only way he knew how without lying was to stand there, silent, his hands caressing her back in the few moments of comfort they would have for a long time.
A sob escaped her lips as she finally spoke again. “I can’t wait a few years, Lucius.”
He gripped her tighter, not wanting to think about it now or ever. “You’ll have to,” he said quietly, reassuringly, telling her that she could do it and that he knew she could in three small words.
“But I love you,” she whispered, her broken voice uttering the sweetest and most bitter words in the world.
After Bellatrix had told her all that had happened in the Department of Mysteries, Narcissa Malfoy had flown to the Ministry, not caring that she was in her nightgown and her golden hair was a jungle framing her face. She was in a frenzy, her way of coping when life delivered her something less than she had hoped for, or even expected.
The Ministry officials had eyed her with disdain, taking in her tattered appearance most unfit for a wealthy pure-blood lady that always, always, presented herself with grace and elegance.
“Your husband is in jail, Mrs. Malfoy,” one of them said, his patience wearing thin as she asked the same question over and over, hoping that by a miraculous streak of good fortune the response would be different, breaking out into laughter and telling her it was all an elaborate prank.
“He can’t be,” she said softly, as she finally took the seat that was offered to her. “He just can’t be. He’s Lucius Malfoy…he’s my husband. How could he be arrested?” It was remarkable, really, how far a whisper could carry, because before she knew it what seemed like every worker in the Ministry was eyeing her as she broke into sobs, watching the inevitable breakdown of the most elegant pure-blood woman in England .
No one offered her a handkerchief or a sleeve to wipe her tears on, so she had to make do with her arm as her tears flew down her cheeks rapidly. “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she said. Her voice raised as she finally looked around her and summoned her best glare. “How dare you?” She could already feel hopelessness replaced by anger. “How dare any of you arrest my husband?” Tears still lingered on her face, but she had been consumed by rage.
“None of you are worthy to touch him, let alone throw him in a cell,” she screamed, finally letting her fear and her anger and her despair out into a yell that ripped through the halls. “You are a disgrace!” She paused to catch her breath, and as she did so a witch chanced to take her arm and lead her aside. A glare from Narcissa caused the witch to jump back hurriedly.
Narcissa raised her wand, not caring what was proper or what was not. Those rules of etiquette were meaningless in a world where the love of your life had been taken away, where suddenly everything you knew was swiped from under you. You fell a long way, but you had to get to your feet and start climbing out of the hole that others had dug for you.
She began to utter a curse - she was so far gone into her fury that she had no idea what it was, but she suspected later that it was the Cruciatus, for she had wanted to inflict as much pain upon people that seemed to enjoy hers as possible - but she was stopped as an elderly wizard disarmed her.
She had no weapon, and she was not an Amazon like her sister Bellatrix, who would have fought to the death if need be. Reason returned to her in that moment, and she let herself fall back, getting back into the chair. But she would not return to the crying or the despair. She would make her demands as a Black and a Malfoy should.
“Where is he?” she asked calmly, her temper that had flared so suddenly now under control. “I’d like to see him, please.” She couldn’t bear now to say his name when she had all but understood what was likely to happen, for that would make everything real. Although most of her had accepted what was happening now, there was the smallest part of her that still desperately needed to live in denial.
There were murmurs all around at this flighty woman that was a harpy one moment and one of the graces the next. Narcissa added a charming smile - her society smile - for effect, and it worked. Perhaps this view of the Narcissa beneath the surface had unnerved them, and indeed Narcissa thought that shock was the only reason that they had agreed to her request.
He didn’t look like he had been in prison for long, which was good, she thought. She didn’t want to see the hopelessness and the despair; she wanted her husband. His eyes filled with emotion as she neared him and was let into the cell he was being kept in.
“What did you do?” she asked softly as she willed herself not to burst out sobbing onto him. “Why did you do it?”
“I had to,” he murmured as he dug his fingers into her back when they embraced. “It was what the Dark Lord ordered.”
“You shouldn’t have.” Her voice was strong as she told him to deny everything that he had ever decided he would stand for and to defy the most powerful wizard in the world. He admired her in that moment so much that he thought his heart would break.
He put his lips to her messy hair. “No, I shouldn’t have. You’re right,” he agreed.
“How long?” she asked, swiftly changing the subject to what was more important in the here and now. “Please, not long.”
He didn’t want to disappoint her, but she would know if he lied. “They’ll keep me here for as long as they can. At least a year, most likely more. All I did was break and enter, but they do know I’m a Death Eater.” He paused as she went still in his arms, as if she was a porcelain statue on the verge of cracking into a thousand pieces. He prayed that if the disaster happened, someday he would have the chance and ability to put her together again.
“How do you expect me to stand it?” she asked, less to him than to all the forces that seemed to control their world where they were just pawns being moved around by giants.
He couldn’t expect her to stand it, he couldn’t even imagine her being content or even laughing for a moment when he was not there. Yet he had to reassure her, and the only way he knew how without lying was to stand there, silent, his hands caressing her back in the few moments of comfort they would have for a long time.
A sob escaped her lips as she finally spoke again. “I can’t wait a few years, Lucius.”
He gripped her tighter, not wanting to think about it now or ever. “You’ll have to,” he said quietly, reassuringly, telling her that she could do it and that he knew she could in three small words.
“But I love you,” she whispered, her broken voice uttering the sweetest and most bitter words in the world.