Six Years Later: The Socal Event of The Year
Title: Six Years Later: The Social Event Of The Year
Author: kanedax
Spoilers: Deathly Hallows & Previous Chapters
Characters: Lucius, Narcissa, Draco, and others
Rating: R for language
Summary: The Malfoys return
Notes: It's the closest I've come to a ficlet in the series (except for probably the first chapter). Many of the names I've had to make up, but the rest belong to JK Rowling.
One Cold Night In February / Previous Chapters / Outliving Your Usefulness
The processional hadn't even begun, and Lucius Malfoy had already conjured the whisky.
This was supposed to be the big day. The day that the Malfoys returned to Society. The world of influence, power, and respect.
Instead...
"It's over," he muttered to the small room adjoining the chapel, empty but for himself and the bottle on the table next to him. He took the alcohol in one hard shot and, as his wife entered the room, he reached for a refill.
"Put that down," Narcissa snapped. "You're going to embarrass us."
Lucius snorted and took another sip. "Embarrass us? Whatever do you mean by that? The Malfoys are dead. A corpse can't blush."
"The Malfoys aren't dead," said Narcissa, dressed in dazzling green dress robes that would be driving Lucius close to sexual insanity if it weren't for the mood of the day. "Our son is getting married to a pureblood. Children will be sure to come. The bloodline of Malfoy will continue."
"Bloodlines. Sure." Narcissa's eyes narrowed as Lucius drained the glass again. "As if blood means anything to these people. Our blood will continue, but our name is dead."
Narcissa couldn't argue with that. "It's not as bad as you make it sound," she said, to Lucius's ears the lone drum trying to keep the beat in a ruined orchestra.
"How many invitations did we send?" Lucius asked.
"Three hundred," Narcissa replied, which Lucius knew was a lie. They had sent out six hundred. That was part of the game in high wizard society. You sent them to as many people as possible, to announce your status, the status of your only son. The invitations went to pureblood families of respectability all over the world, names that would probably not be able to attend, but would be welcomed if they arrived. Three hundred were just the ones from whom you reasonably expected a response, who would have fallen all over themselves to be seen in the chapel or at the formal reception at the Manor afterwards.
"And how many are out there?" Lucius continued.
"Fifteen or twenty," Narcissa sighed. "Twenty-five at the most."
"Does that include the families and wedding party?" Lucius sniffed.
Narcissa remained silent.
"How about the priest?" Lucius said with deep sarcasm. "The organist?"
"The Montagues are here," said Narcissa. "They're important. And the Zabinis."
"The Montagues are here because Draco wanted them here," Lucius replied savagely. "And the Zabinis were kissing our feet before..."
"It's Draco's day," Narcissa replied. "And they are all pure..."
"What about the Ogdens?" Lucius continued. "The Dawlishes? The Hopkirks?"
"No response from any of them," said Narcissa, knowing that the members of the Ministry, along with the new Headmaster of Hogwarts, would want to distance themselves from the Malfoys as much as possible.
"Parkinsons? Crabbes?"
"Crabbe's in Azkaban, and his wife still thinks that Draco and Gregory should have died along with their son," Narcissa said quietly. "As for the Parkinsons, Draco refused to allow me to send them an invitation, and you know that their daughter has turned our name into mud around that house."
Lucius growled, but listened. He didn't pay very much attention to Draco's romantic life. Just enough to know that it must have taken a major falling out to tear Draco and Pansy apart. What had happened? He had thought this question over and over in the past six years. The Parkinsons were one of the most powerful pureblood families in Europe. If they had married into the Malfoys... his stomach dropped at the mere thought of "what might have been, but never will be."
Lucius hoped that it was Draco who made the decision, who decided that Pansy wasn't worthy of his attentions. That somehow the Gibbons were a better path to glory. The Gibbons, whose patriarch was a grunt who had been killed by his own men. Whose matriarch was now a widow of a family whose status was never high to begin with. Sure their daughter, Hedda, was attractive enough. But Lucius knew that Ylwa would have never accepted the marriage if she wasn't in such dire straits to assure that Viggo Gibbon's only daughter was well taken care of. Lucius could see the look of loathing in her eyes whenever he turned away from a conversation with her.
The same look that the Parkinsons had given him and Narcissa at the funerals. And at the hearing.
"So who is here?" Lucius asked, wishing that he could conjure a bigger glass or just take a drink straight from the bottle without having to put up with Cissy's icy stare.
"The Montagues, the Zabinis, the Bulstrodes..."
"Oh, God, Bulstrode..."
"Lara Goyle's here..."
"Because her son's the best man," said Lucius. "Anyone who didn't have a son or daughter in Draco's class?"
"Umbridge."
Lucius stopped. "Well, I suppose that's someone," he relented. "Although she's not who she used to be, not in the new Ministry." He said the last words like he was eating warm dog vomit. "Anyone else?"
"Ylwa and her son. Your mother. Me, you, Draco, Hedda, Gregory, Hedda's bridesmaid, whatever her name is, and the priest."
"That's all?" said Lucius. "Well, I suppose it could be worse. At least The Prophet decided to ignore our invitation. The last thing that I would want would to have this fiasco splattered across the Society page."
Narcissa's already pale face faded even more. She cleared her throat nervously. Lucius eyed her with something close to horror.
"They sent someone, didn't they?"
"Rita Skeeter."
"Oh, of course. They're already laughing at our corpse, why not fuck it in the ass while they're at it?" Lucius took a long drink straight from the whisky bottle.
"Lucius!" Narcissa yelled.
"Pretense is for pussies," he said, handing the bottle to her. "Have a drink, dear. We're mourning the death."
"We're not dead," said Narcissa, grabbing the bottle. "But, for the love of God, Lucius, stop pretending that things can ever be the same."
"You're not very fun," said Lucius, his speech slurring as she put the stopper in it and made it vanish into thin air.
"Most of the wizarding world doesn’t trust us," said Narcissa, standing over him with her arms crossed. "Including the Ministry, the governing body of Hogwarts, and every pure-blood families that didn't follow Riddle."
Lucius flinched instinctively. Death Eaters never spoke in terms of You-Know-Who. But any name other than The Dark Lord always filled him with anxiety, even six years after the death. And using The Dark Lord’s given name…
“And all of his former followers,” Narcissa continued unabated, “See us as selfish cowards for not fighting to the end. They see us as bootlickers and Muggle-lovers because Potter and the new Ministry kept us out of Azkaban. And because, unlike them, we don’t think the world is at an end because that half-blood conjurer is gone, killed by a seventeen year old boy.”
“I’ll take the bottle back,” Lucius growled. “I’m having difficulty finding the silver lining to this little motivational speech.”
“Excuse me, sir? Madam?”
Narcissa and Lucius both turned to face the door, where a young man, who appeared to be an employee of the chapel, was standing.
“There are two men who wishes to speak with one of you.”
“Who is it?” said Lucius. “Someone else to piss on our graves?”
“Didn’t give a name,” the man said.
“I’ll talk to whoever it is,” said Lucius, attempting to stand up from the plush couch, but falling back down quickly. Narcissa rolled her eyes and turned to the man.
“I’ll speak to them,” said Narcissa. “In a moment.”
“They’re outside,” said the man. “I’ll let them know you’re coming.”
“And bring my husband a glass of pumpkin juice.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The boy nodded and left, closing the door behind him. Narcissa turned toward Lucius.
“The silver lining,” she hissed. “Is that history is written by the winners. But we were also erased from the list of the losers. We stood with both of them. And we stood with no one. Which is a difficult position to be in in any war.
“But we know the truth.” Narcissa said this with a small smile. “We know that we put family above all else. When the time came to show what the Malfoys were all about, we took care of our own. We bowed to no one. We lied to The Dark Lord, to his face, to protect our blood. And our blood is still alive. It might not be what it was before, but we should be proud enough to know that it is still strong.”
“The Dark Lord was defeated because the Malfoys were defeated.”
Narcissa snorted. “The Malfoys? Defeated? Because Draco had a wand taken from him in a childhood scuffle after disarming Riddle’s greatest enemy? Please. Riddle is dead. We’re alive. I think we know who the ultimate victor was.”
Lucius Malfoy smiled. This time, as he stood he didn’t fall back down. “I was stupid,” he said. “How dare they presume that we’re beneath them? My ancestors scrabbled their way up from nothing to be where we were before the Fall. We can get there again.”
“That’s the man I married,” Narcissa said proudly. “Are we ready to take a daughter?”
“More than,” Lucius replied with a sneer.
“Excellent,” said Narcissa. “You drink the pumpkin juice and I’ll deal with the rabble outside.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to deal with them?” said Lucius, adjusting his dress robes. “I feel like giving someone a good reaming.”
“Not at all,” said Narcissa. “They’re beneath you. Go see to our boy, the procession can start when I come back.”
Just so long as you don’t have whisky on your breath, she thought to herself as she closed the door. And I’ll have an Imperius Curse ready in case you can’t stand up straight.
“Narcissa!”
“Oh, hello, Boudicca!” Narcissa replied.
“You must be so proud,” said Lucius Malfoy’s mother, Boudicca Malfoy.
“Very much so,” said Narcissa as the old woman followed her toward the back of the church. “And you look stunning as always.”
“Thank you, my dear,” Boudicca, who looked to Narcissa like a moth-eaten vulture carcass, packed into a five thousand Galleon dress robe, said. “It’s a Parisian original.”
“Of course it is,” said Narcissa, who would rather be caught naked than caught in anything Parisian this season. “Now, if you will excuse me, there is some business I must attend to before the ceremony starts.”
“Of course, dear, of course,” Boudicca replied, patting Narcissa’s arm before returning to her seat. Narcissa turned back to the door but, predictably, she heard the scratching quill before she took two steps.
“Hello, Miss Skeeter,” said Narcissa, putting on her best proper voice. “How delightful of you to join us.”
“Hello, Mrs. Malfoy,” said Rita, Quick Quotes Quill flying. “Congratulations on the happy event.”
“Oh, well, we couldn’t be prouder,” said Narcissa.
“Kind of a light turnout, isn’t it?” asked Rita. “How does that make you feel?”
“It makes me feel as if we know who our real friends are,” said Narcissa, lying through her teeth. “Besides, this was intended to be a small gathering from the beginning. And almost everyone we invited is now in attendance.”
“Hmm,” Rita said, looking around. “Not many friends, have we?”
“We had many hangers on in the past few decades, but that’s changed now. We’ve cleared the rabble.”
“And no Ministry officials? Business associates?”
“Friends and family only, Miss Skeeter.”
“What about Dolores Umbridge?” asked Rita. “Is she family? I’ve heard some nasty bits and pieces about her…”
“She was Draco’s favorite teacher at Hogwarts,” said Narcissa. “Besides the late Severus Snape, of course. Draco insisted that she be here.”
“So this is a gathering for just your closest?”
“Of course,” said Narcissa with a smile.
“And the invitation that was received at The Prophet? The one that stated that this was to be the social event of the year?”
“Well, isn’t it?” said Narcissa. “The Malfoys have returned, and we’re telling the world what’s most important to us. It’s a social wake-up call that we’re not anyone’s playthings anymore, and that we will only give our influence to those we consider most dear.”
“Charming,” Rita sniffed.
“Now if you would like to discuss this further,” said Narcissa, “Lucius and I would be more than happy to sit down and speak to you at the reception. But the wedding is starting shortly, and there are a few things I must take care of first.”
“Oh, I’m sure we’ll be talking again, Mrs. Malfoy,” said Rita, but she relented and returned to the pews.
I might need that Imperius curse a little longer, Narcissa thought to herself as she turned back to the doors. Just to make sure that Lucius doesn’t say anything stupid to that twat.
She opened the door and saw two young men standing at the bottom of the stairs in Muggle clothing, as though they were just passing by.
“And why am I not surprised to see you here?” she said savagely, crossing her arms. “Come to rub this all in our faces? Maybe to come in with some sting operation?”
“Not at all,” said Harry Potter.
“And how did you find out about this ceremony?” she continued. “It’s invitation only.”
“Your sister told us about it,” said Ron Weasley, who, unlike Potter, had a look of great distaste on his face, as though he’d rather be anywhere but here. “Showed us the invitation.”
“My sister’s dead,” said Narcissa. “Your mother killed her, remember?”
“Your other sister,” Ron continued. “The one who’s still alive. You did send her the invitation, right?”
“It was an announcement,” said Narcissa. “I never expected Andromeda would even acknowledge it.”
“Well, she did,” Ron said. “But considering your buddies killed her husband and her daughter I don’t think she was up to attending.”
“Look, could you both please just calm down?” said Harry. “Mrs. Malfoy, I didn’t come to start a fight.”
“Yet one’s been started anyway,” said Narcissa, on her guard for the first time since she stepped into the room with Lucius. “And where are the others? Why just you two to come and spit on us? Where’s your sister and your…
Mudblood?
wife?”
“We’re not spitting,” Harry insisted.
“Ginny's taking care of their kid,” said Ron. “And Hermione has enough trouble looking at Andromeda without being reminded of the woman who tortured her in your house, I don’t think…”
“Ron!” Harry said quickly. “Please, could you just…”
Harry grabbed Ron’s collar and dragged him a few feet away. The two whispered to each other, and Narcissa was about a few seconds away from turning around and leaving them when Harry came back to her. The Weasley boy remained a good distance away, arms crossed beneath his red face.
“I apologize for that,” said Potter. “He’s… well… look, we’re not here to pick a fight.”
“Then why are you here?”
“To give Draco his wedding present,” said Harry.
“His… his what?”
At that he pulled out a single envelope and handed it to her.
“A card?” Narcissa was so taken aback that she didn’t even reach for it.
“It will explain everything to them,” said Harry. “I’d ask him to come out himself, but he wasn’t comfortable seeing me at our wedding. I don’t want to force him into anything now.”
“You’d better explain it to me first,” said Narcissa, still wary. “In case this is some cursed card that will make his eyes melt or his hands fall off. And if this has anything to do with the two thousand Galleons that went missing from our vault the day before The Prophet announced your wedding.”
“It has everything to do with that,” said Harry. “Draco made two vaults, one for each of us. Gave us the keys on our wedding day.”
“And…?”
“And we never touched them. Ron and I stopped by Gringott’s on our way here and had the money transferred into Draco’s vault.”
“And why is that?” said Narcissa. “You’re too good for our money?”
“Draco doesn’t have to buy our respect,” Harry explained. “He’s already earned it.”
Narcissa was shocked into silence. She never expected to hear these words coming from Potter…
“Draco tried to save us,” said Harry. “He could have turned us in when we were brought to your mansion. He didn’t. He could have killed us in the Room of Requirement. He didn’t. He had Dumbledore cornered in the Tower. But he backed down. He never wanted to do the things he did. But he was put into extraordinary circumstances in order to protect his family. He kept his family in his heart, but he still kept his soul. And, in all honesty, I never would have thought he had either of those to begin with. But I was wrong. It took a lot for him to do what he did. And he’s earned our respect for that.”
“Besides, we saved his arse,” Ron called from behind Harry. “Him and Goyle both. He’d better make the most of that second chance.”
"He saved us," said Harry, still holding out the envelope, "And we saved him. We're even."
Narcissa slowly reached out and took the envelope. "I'll give it to him," she said.
"Thank you," said Harry.
"Well," Narcissa said slowly, debating if she should say more. "Good day." At that, she turned around, but Harry stopped her.
"Mrs. Malfoy!"
"What is it, Potter?" she said, trying her best to keep her air of superiority. "There's a wedding that's waiting for me."
"I just never had a chance to thank you for saving my life."
Once again, this boy had a tendency to rock someone back on their heels.
"Excuse me?"
"That night in the forest," said Harry. "Everyone thought that Voldemort had killed me. But you lied to him to save me."
"I lied to him to get back into the school."
"You did it for your family," Harry continued. "That might be selfish, but there are still worse reasons. And you could have gotten to Draco whether I was alive or dead. If you had told Voldemort that I was still alive, he would have found some other way to kill me. But you told him that I was dead." He cracked a small smile that, despite all of the years of hatred that she had carried for this boy and his family, struck Narcissa as a wonderul smile. "What can I say, Mrs. Malfoy? You saved the world that night."
No wonder this boy's so popular, Narcissa thought despite herself. "Well... you're welcome."
"And congratulations," said Harry, holding out his hand. "For your whole family on the wedding." Narcissa glared down at it, then took it.
"Congratulations to you, as well," she said. "To both of you."
"Thanks," Ron said grumpily behind Harry.
Harry and Narcissa broke their handshake, and turned away. As Narcissa walked back, she heard Weasley mutter, "You know, you don't have to be so nice to everyone. She deserved a little bit of shit."
"No, she didn't," Harry said. "They've had more than their share already."
"Not so sure about that," said Ron. "They still have more guests than they've earned."
"Ron, could you just..."
Narcissa took a glance towards the chapel, and then back to the two boys (Men, she corrected herself. Draco's a man now, and so are they).
You did it for your family.
We lied to The Dark Lord, to his face, to protect our blood. And our blood is still alive. It might not be what it was before, but we should be proud enough to know that it is still strong.
"Potter!" She heard herself yell. "Weasley!"
Harry and Ron both turned around.
"Could you..." I can't believe I'm saying this, "Could you tell Dromeda that... if she ever wants a cup of tea sometime... to send me an owl?"
Harry Potter's eyebrows raised in surprise over his glasses. He and Ron exchanged an awkward glance.
"Well..." said Harry delicately. "I don't know how welcome she'd be to that..."
"I know," said Narcissa, struggling to explain herself. "I guess... I guess I just want to see my sister again. Just tell her that. Make it your repayment for me saving your life."
Harry smiled again (Lucky girl he's got, Narcissa thought) and nodded. "Yeah, sure," he said. "Yeah, I think I can do that."
"Good," Narcissa said, and returned to the chapel without another word. The few guests that had arrived were now seated in the pews, and Lucius stood at the rear of the aisle with their only son, who was dressed in Twilfit and Tatting's finest dress robes.
"There you are," said Draco, looking at his mother with trademark impatience. "Are you ready?"
"Absolutely, dear," said Narcissa, putting the Potter's card in the stack with the small stack of gifts.
"Who was that outside?" asked Lucius. Narcissa waved a disregarding hand.
"Just a few halfbloods trying to curry some favor," she said airily. "I took their card, Draco can do with it what he wants."
"Gave them a good tearing into, I hope?" Lucius asked as the organist began to play.
As Gregory Goyle walked Hedda Gibbon's bridesmaid up to the front of the chapel and Draco Malfoy stood in preparation, Lucius took Narcissa's arm. She spared enough time to take one quick glance back at the front door.
I hope that boy's as good to his word as everyone says he is, she thought.
"Yes," Narcissa said to her husband. "I gave them some words to remember us by."
One Cold Night In February / Previous Chapters / Outliving Your Usefulness