average human’s Reviews > Birth Right > Status Update

Nothing was disturbed, and yet something had shifted. The chill that had encompassed the Manor seemed to have lifted. The summer wind finally began to whistle against the windows, and the stifling air seemed to vibrate.

And with all her years in the Manor, she could only think of one reason.

The lord of the manor was home.

Narcissa threw off the covers, summoning her dressing gown and slippers. Her fingers shook as she put them on. With a flick of her wand, the valise with a week's worth of clothes for the three of them zoomed to her feet. She shrunk it down and tucked it into her pocket before hurrying from the room.

She flew down the narrow staircase, slipping past the downstairs bedrooms occupied by the vermin in her household, and followed her thumping heart into the drawing room.

Her husband turned to her, and the breath left her lungs. His Azkaban uniform was sagging off his bones, his hair oily and thin. The skin under his eyes was purple, and his jaw covered in stubble.

But they had baths and razors at the cottage in the Balkan Mountains.

Her legs stumbled to him with a soft cry, and his arms swept her close — her name murmured into her ear over and over. His ribs dug into her arms as she embraced him, and his hair swung from his head as he dipped to kiss her jaw.

"Lucius—"

He pulled away, his eyes wild as they roved the room. "Where is Draco?"

"In bed." Narcissa swallowed. "Lucius, we have to leave. Quickly."

He blinked at her. His left eye twitched.

"I sent Mippy to the property in Bulgaria earlier this week. There's food and supplies there, and I've packed enough to get us through." She lifted the valise. "We have another five hours before they realize we're gone. We can wake Draco and—"

"Go?" Lucius stared at her. "Why would we go now? When we're so close?"

Her lips parted, and she searched his face. "Close?"

"Close to being where we used to be. Back in the Dark Lord's favor. Back at his side." He rolled his shoulders, looking more like himself. "Draco has done well, Cissa. He will succeed where I have failed."

It felt like her heart had been ripped from her chest and plunged into icy waters. She grabbed for his hands, clutching them in her own.

"Hasn't he been through enough? You have no idea what it's cost him! Lucius—" She drew a ragged breath, struggling to keep her voice even. "Lucius, we have a chance — a very small window, but if you could just think about what's best for our son—"

"What's best for him?" He stiffened as his eyes skated over her. "What else would I be thinking about? What else do you think keeps me awake at night?"

"Lucius, please—"

His hands shifted so they were gripping hers. "The safest place in the world for Draco — and for you — is in the Dark Lord's good graces. Whatever it costs to get us there is a necessary sacrifice."

Her vision spun as his words sunk into her like poison. A shadow shifted in the doorway, and Narcissa spun around to see their son in his pajamas, staring at his father with wide eyes.

"Draco," Lucius rasped.

He went to him, grabbing him by the shoulders and speaking in low, praising tones. Narcissa suppressed a sob with the heel of her hand and quickly moved to the window, watching the summer wind blow through the garden trees.

She wondered if she had the strength to do it. To say goodnight to her husband, grab her son, and run.

Lucius would search for them — that much was certain. She'd have to be clever about it, but they could manage. But how long until Voldemort sent his other dogs after them? Until Lucius was tortured and killed for their disappearance?

The idea slipped away like silk through her fingertips.

Wiping her lashes, she focused on Lucius's murmurs to their son.

"I've spoken to Bella about your future," he whispered. "Our future."

A dagger pierced her heart. When he'd been released tonight — when he'd finally tasted freedom for the first time in a year — he'd gone to Bella. Seeking answers from her that Narcissa didn't have.

Maybe he would have preferred Bella to her in some ways.

Her eyes drifted to her son, looking pale and terrified. Her stomach clenched. She tried to go to him, but he slipped from his father's fingers and turned the corner before she could cross the room.

She was still staring after him when Lucius turned to her and cupped her face, pulling her lips to his. They felt rough and unfamiliar. But when he pulled back to run his fingers over her face, his eyes burned with something she recognized. Something that called to a place deep within her ribs. Her chin trembled as she opened her mouth.

"I want you to sleep in one of the guest rooms. I'll have the elves draw fresh linens."

He blinked, then flinched, like she'd hit him. Stepping back from her, he looked at her as though seeing her for the first time. "Why?"

She smoothed out her gown. "I don't let strangers into my bed." She headed to leave.

"No."

She paused before turning to him with a cool expression. "No?"

"No." His voice was thin without use, but the words carried to her all the same. "The months I have waited to hold you again, and you want to punish me—"

"I would have hoped that in the months spent without me, that you would have considered where you went wrong. Instead you've deluded yourself into thinking that your foolish decisions for our family have somehow made us safer. But I suppose I should be grateful that my sister has been giving you helpful advice on the matter." She folded her hands in front of her, watching him gape at her. "I see now that we won't ever be enough for you, Lucius."

"Cissa—"

"You'll sleep elsewhere until I say so, and that is final." She spun on her heel, moving quickly away.

"This is my house," he called after her. "You cannot reduce me to a houseguest in my own home."

She stopped with her hand on the doorframe and looked him over, his prison robes crumpled and stained.

"No, love," she said. "You've been gone a long time. This is the Dark Lord's house now."

She left him in the drawing room and took the stairs back up, brushing away the tears from her eyelashes.

~*~

34%

"Dobby." Narcissa glanced across the room to see Lucius glaring at the elf, his fists curled. Her face burned crimson at the realization that it was his shoulder she had sobbed into. It had been his arm around her waist, his body that had pressed against hers on the couch. "Punish yourself accordingly, or I will."

"Yes, Master Lucius!" And the elf popped away before she could protest.

Lucius turned his eyes on her, and Narcissa's pulse quickened as she met his gaze. Then her father rushed back onto the veranda, and the spell was broken.

Her father tipped a pain-relieving potion down her throat while her mother cleaned her dress, wiping away her tears and producing a powder puff to blot her skin with. Abraxas and her father began discussing their servant woes, and Andromeda leaned into Lucius to ask what kind of punishments Dobby usually gave himself in a nervous voice.

But Lucius didn't reply. He was still hovering over her shoulder with a tight jaw, casting cooling charms and running a simple diagnostic spell over her skin.

Suddenly Narcissa felt too hot again.

She jumped to her feet, and everyone fell silent. "I—I apologize for that scene. I said it was my fault, and I meant it, so… I'm sorry." Her gaze dropped to her shoes. "And if you'll all excuse me, I would very much like to use the loo."

"Of course, dear—"

"Not your fault at all—"

"—bloody stupid elf."

"Bella."

Andromeda stood. "I'll come with you."

"No." Narcissa smiled tightly at her. "I just need a moment."

She started to move towards the balcony doors.

"I'll show you where they are," said a voice behind her.

"No!" She spun around to find Lucius standing far too close. "Sorry, I—I'd prefer to be alone. I'll… I'll find it."

She raced indoors as quickly as she could, the scent of Lucius's robes still haunting her senses. Keeping an eye out for the loo, she wandered down a long hallway lined with elegant paintings of landscapes and countrysides. As she turned a corner, she heard the smallest of whimpers, so soft it was almost as if her shoes had squeaked.

Following the sounds to a small alcove, Narcissa peered around the corner and found a small elf curled around itself. Not Dobby.

"Hello."

The elf jumped and stood quickly. It was a little girl elf, possibly a teenager in elf-years. She had a small pink bow behind one ear.

"Miss?" The elf shoved a hand under her eyes. "Miss needs something?"

"No." Narcissa knelt down. "I was just wondering why you're crying?"

The elf blubbered, and fresh tears squeezed from beneath her eyelids. "Dob—Dobby was to pour tea. B—but instead he pours tea on Master Lucius's future wife!"

She blinked a few times. "It was actually his, er, future wife's sister. It's not the end of the world."

"But it was Mippy's tea!" The girl elf, Mippy, sobbed, blowing her nose in her pillowcase. "Mippy asks Dobby to pour so Mippy can do soup! So it is Mippy's fault! Everyone knows not to give tea to Dobby!"

"You were doing your best, Mippy," Narcissa said. She pulled out a handkerchief for her, and Mippy stared down at it in horror.

"What is it?" Mippy whispered.

"It's for you. So you don't have to blow your nose on your pillowcase."

Mippy took it with waxy, trembling fingers. "Miss is kind."

Narcissa smiled.

After a moment, Mippy's eyes lifted from the handkerchief, wide as saucers. "Has Miss seen the new flower room?"

"The flower room?"

Mippy blew her nose once and tucked the handkerchief into her pillowcase. She waddled quickly down the corridor and gestured for Narcissa to follow.

They turned right at a stunning portrait of Abraxas and his wife, and Mippy pushed open a pair of doors.

Light and color and fresh air hit her like a wave on the shore. Vines, trees, bushes, and flowers sprouted everywhere the eye could see. She gaped at the beautiful flora, her neck stretching to gaze at the glass windows that arched overhead into a dome.

A conservatory.

"Mippy checks on the tea, but Miss is happy?"

"Miss is very happy, yes. Thank you, Mippy."

Mippy gave her a wobbly curtsey and said, "Good day, Miss."

"Please call me Narcissa."

Blushing a furious shade of red, the elf popped away without another word.

Narcissa spun back to the conservatory, beaming from ear to ear. She took the pathway to the right, winding around a large tree that rooted down into the earth. A patch of rose bushes bloomed to the left — the lush greens bursting with pinks, reds, and yellows.

On the other side of the path, she found twice as many bushes of perfect white roses. Her fingers itched to cut one to take with her, but she settled for running her fingertips over the petals.

"Should have known."

She jumped at the sound of the deep male voice from behind her, her hand springing away from the roses. Lucius stood in the doorway, his hands clasped behind his back and his eyes intent on her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude." She fidgeted with her hands before mimicking him, winding them around her back.

"No, not at all," Lucius said. "I just wondered where you'd gotten lost."

"It's a stunning conservatory." She could feel her ears burn as she glanced in every direction but his. "I've never seen one so exquisite."

"You know," he said, "this could be your room." His stroll was slow and deliberate, like a lion cornering its prey.

Her palms were sweating. "Sorry?"

"Your room." He smiled softly, and then inclined his head to remind her, "The chess match, remember?"

She shifted her weight, feeling her fingers slip against each other. "What about it?"

"You threw the game on purpose, even after reading my mind. So I'm duty-bound to accept my defeat." Her mouth fell open as he shrugged. "Since I'm burdened by two Black sisters now, I suppose I must provide 'a room' for you." His face was indiscernible as he stepped even closer. "Do you like this one?"

She stared at him, feeling her pulse pounding in her chest. Fire swept through her veins as he held her eyes. He was more snake than lion, she realized — lying in wait, tempting her to delve inside again.

And she wanted to. She wanted to know how he liked her new dress, and what he thought of the plait in her hair, and how he liked his tea served. To know exactly what he wanted her to say, and exactly how he wanted to press his lips against hers.

Her heart strangled her.

"Stop," she whispered.

His gaze flickered, and he rocked back on his heels.

"Stop it." She took a shaking breath. "You're engaged to Bella."

There was a hard set about his eyes, but his voice still attempted to be light when he said, "And you are to be my sister." His lips stretched in a smile. "My apologies if I overstepped. I just want you to be happy here—"

"Stop." Her voice trembled. "Please. I can't bear it."

Without another glance at him, she ran to the doors, throwing them open, and racing back the way she came to find her sisters.

43%

Lucius's breath felt shallow as he watched Narcissa gather her things, hiding a blush. Her fingers carefully adjusted the pink flower in her hair, and he saw red. He snatched up his book bag and took off in her direction just as she entered the castle.

Her blonde hair had just swished around the stairwell as he strode into the Entrance Hall. He flew down the steps to the dungeons, finally catching up with her leisurely pace at the statue of Horace the Horned.

She didn't even glance at him as he stepped in pace with her.

"Boot is a half-blood."

Silence, as if he didn't exist.

"He's a sixth year—"

"Have you hunted me down to recite facts, Lucius?"

His arm shot out to the stone wall just in front of her, halting her steps. He watched her eyes ice over as she turned her chin up to him. His heart was pounding from the chase, and his skin buzzed with her closeness — less than a foot between them.

"It's inappropriate," he hissed. "As a Black sister, you—"

"What's 'inappropriate,' Lucius, is how close my brother is standing to me."

His lips twitched. He felt drunk with her acknowledgment of—it.

It had been four months since the Conservatory. She'd refused to meet his eye in the corridors, ignored him in the Common Room, avoided his path on the stairs. He'd come to think he'd imagined the flush to her cheeks that day, the soft parting of her pink lips.

But now they were back again.

"Is it?" He squared himself, placing his other hand on the wall near her shoulder, and she breathed in slowly. "I only thought I'd keep an eye on my soon-to-be sister. Ensure she was making the right choices."

"How thoughtful of you. Rest assured, I know my place."

"Then how do you account for the drool on your knuckles or the way you've unbuttoned your blouse?"

"Is this about Quidditch?" There was a condescending glimmer in her eyes. "I thought it was such a shame last week when he blocked your final shot—"

He stepped into her, stretching up to his full height and staring down his nose at her. Before he could snarl at her, his eyes caught on her cheeks, blooming pink. The slight flutter to her lashes.

He searched her face, his anger dissipating to something hypnotic and warm. Her gaze landed on his mouth, and he watched her pupils blossom.

Her body had betrayed her. She'd tried so hard to keep it at bay, but she wanted him just as desperately.

He towered over her, the undone buttons he'd despised only seconds ago now giving him a stunning view. Her chest heaved under his attention, like she'd just run miles.

When he lifted his palm from the wall, her breath caught, her eyes shining up at him. His fingertips landed on the curve of her jaw, and her tongue swept over her bottom lip. His head inclined downward.

He could taste her air.

"We can't," she breathed.

His eyes opened. Hers were round and frightened.

"Cissa—"

"We can't." She pushed him back and ducked under his arm.

"Wait!"

He reached for her, but she was too quick, hurrying down the corridor until she broke into a run. His stomach was heavy with want, his veins thrumming with arousal.

She'd almost allowed it. She'd wet her lips, closed her eyes, and waited for him. Only a heartbeat of hesitation had stopped them.

Maybe next time it wouldn't.

Lucius ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. As he straightened his tie, he saw the flower that had been in her hair on the stone floor. Its petals bloomed, ripe and open.

He picked it up, running his fingertips over it — the same pink as her lips and cheeks.

Pocketing it, he turned and walked back to the courtyard.

~*~

Lucius moved briskly toward the drawing room, shaking the morning drowsiness off and smoothing his robes. The doors opened for him, and he stepped through.

"Druella. Pardon the delay. I didn't realize you were stopping by."

Druella Black rose from her chair, wearing the gentle smile she'd always worn for him. Her sleek grey-blonde hair was twisted into a low chignon, her daffodil robes vibrant in the light streaming through the windows. He reached for her hand and brought her knuckles to his lips.

"Good morning, Lucius. I know I should have written."

"Not at all." He gestured for her to sit, following suit when she was settled. "I'm afraid Narcissa is in Milan, taking a small break from our houseguests."

"Ah," said Druella.

After a stilted silence, Lucius reached for the teacup that had appeared at his elbow. "Draco, as you know, is back at Hogwarts, but—"

"I saw him last month," she said. "He came by for tea."

Lucius blinked. Draco hadn't mentioned it. "Yes, right. How lovely."

"I came to speak with you, Lucius." Her gaze flicked at the door. "And I wanted to come early so we wouldn't be overheard."

Lucius tilted his head at his mother-in-law. She was a soft, but solemn woman, and by all appearances, an obedient wife. But there were those occasions when a burning intensity behind her eyes kept him on guard.

"Of course. What is it you want to discuss?"

"Andromeda."

She abruptly leaned forward in her chair, and Lucius was quick to block all pathways to his mind.

"I've never shared this with anyone, but she did tell me." Her eyes bored into him. "Over the Easter holidays, her seventh year."

Lucius stared at her. He felt his brows twitch.

"She said she'd fallen in love with a Muggle-born, and she needed my help to speak to Cygnus." Druella broke his gaze to stare out the window behind him, her eyes glazing over. "I told her it wasn't possible — that she would have to say goodbye to him before graduation. And a month later, they found her bed empty at Hogwarts and her trunks gone."

His heart thundered in his chest. It had been years since he'd heard anyone utter Andromeda's name. Perhaps she was in danger. He knew her husband was on the run, but surely Druella couldn't be asking for something so foolish—

"Calm your mind, Lucius," she whispered.

Lucius startled, quickly yanking up his walls. He pressed his lips together, bristling at the knowledge that she'd slithered in. She always slithered in.

Druella lifted her cup and saucer elegantly, and continued.

"You were very kind to our family back then, unlike most company we kept. I will always be grateful that you didn't let our troubles affect your intentions for my daughter."

Lucius rapped his fingertips on the arm of his chair. "Of course."

Her blue eyes crinkled, but her smile was strained. "I wonder if you'd feel the same way now. If poor judgment in matters of the heart would be excusable to you— if you had true love for the person."

He assessed her, his mind working quickly. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

Druella sat back in her chair, the corner of her lips turning downwards. "Lucius, I had three daughters one day, and the next I only had two — because my husband told me I only had two." Her voice trembled. "Andromeda was taken from me simply because she fell in love. I pray that you never have to experience that feeling."

His lips tightened as a sickness wound through his gut, coiling tight. His fingers gripped the arm of the chair.

"There's only one thing worse than having your child ripped from you." She focused her gaze on him intently. "If your son chose to run, to disappear and cut you from his life — all because he didn't trust you to understand."

He felt impaled on her blue eyes, but his walls held firm.

Tapping his thumb against his saucer, he cataloged every half-blood girl currently at Hogwarts, prodding his memory to see if Draco had mentioned one of them.

"You're wise to take this seriously," said Druella. "After all, the Malfoy heart can be quite obstinate, especially about a woman it can't have. Or shall I say— shouldn't."

She settled her cup on its saucer without a sound. Lucius waited for her to say more.

She didn't.

~*~