average human’s Reviews > Birth Right > Status Update

Lucius turned the corner and found her on the top step of the stairs leading down to the Potions classroom, her thin body curled around her knees. Her platinum hair shivered around her elbows as she took a labored breath.

Lucius's footsteps were silent on stones as he lowered to sit next to her, his long legs stretching out over three stairs. She pushed her face into the crook of her arm, turning away from him.

He waited. He was good at waiting.

Her breath broke on an exhale, and she sobbed again. He wanted to rub her back, to clear the tears from her lashes, to kiss away her sadness.

But he waited.

"She never told you?" Her voice was wet and broken.

"Never."

He watched her back expand with each inhalation.

"She can't just"—Narcissa hiccupped—"just disappear. Final exams are next week. Surely they'll be back?"

She lifted her face to him, her eyes wet and imploring. Her nose was pink, and her cheeks shone with smeared tears.

She was fascinatingly beautiful.

Lucius curled his fingers into a fist to keep from reaching for her. "I don't imagine they'll be back, Cissa."

"But where will she go? What will she do?" She pushed her palm across her nose and sniffed, and he felt his chest pulse with adoration. "Andromeda wouldn't do something so careless."

"No," he said. "No, I suspect that an awful lot of care and planning went into this."

"What, you think she loves him?" Her eyes hardened. "She can't, Lucius. She doesn't even know him. She's never once mentioned Ted to me, and she tells me everything—"

Her voice cracked. Fresh tears sprung in her eyes, and she dropped her face into her hands. His heart clenched as she began weeping again. Gingerly, he placed his arm over her thin shoulders, and like a puzzle clicking into place, she leaned into his side, her fingers scrabbling through the front of his robes.

Everything about it felt right.

"Shh." His hand drifted over her shoulder blades, passing through her hair — finer than silk, softer than skin. "It will be alright."

Minutes passed, and her sobs finally quieted. Her fingers loosened, then tightened.

"Caroline Edgecomb says that Andromeda will have to be disowned. Purged from our family records as if she never existed." She tilted her face up to his, her eyes wide with fear. "Is that true?"

Lucius swallowed. "It may be. If your family is to recover from this… If your father wishes to find eligible matches for—for you," he said, his throat tight. "It's safer to renounce her. It will take a long time to remove this stain."

A solitary tear winded down her cheek. "Lucius, are you…" She paused, and he could feel her breath against his jaw. "Will you still marry Bella? Or are we so—so tainted now that you—"

He caught her chin with his free hand. "I could never abandon the Black sisters. They are as much a part of my soul as my own family."

His thumb passed over her jaw lightly, and with only a flicker of her gaze to his lips, she rose up to meet him.

The moment her soft mouth pressed to his, magic sparked to life in his chest. His skin hummed, his veins sang. Her lips were warm and wet, begging him to take away the pain.

He tilted her face back, and she gasped as he gave into her. His kisses were slow, but with purpose. He dragged his mouth over hers, pulling her bottom lip between his own with feather-light pressure. Her fingers slid over his collar and danced into the hair behind his ears.

She writhed, trying to push against him, to open her mouth — but he squeezed her ribs close to him and angled her where he wanted — and she moaned with it. The most divine sound ever created.

But then she was jerking back, breaking out of his arms. His eyes fluttered open to find her staring at him, terrified. Her cheeks pink, her lips full and kissed, and her blouse rumpled.

She brought her fingers to her mouth. "What have we done?" She jolted up to her feet.

He stood. "Cissa—"

"I'm so sorry, Lucius. I never meant—"

She turned and bolted. He ran after her.

"Cissa." He grabbed her arm and spun her, pressing her swiftly into the wall. Her eyes were frightened as a doe's. "Don't run from this, please. I know you feel the same—"

She pressed her hand to his shoulders and held him back from kissing her again. Her lips trembled.

"I only have one sister left, Lucius."

Her words boiled like acid down his throat, killing his remaining desire and loosening his grip on her arms.

She pulled away and sprinted back to the Slytherin Common Room.

~*~

A girl was crying on the floor of his drawing room. And his son was taking sharp breaths, trembling with every sound.

His wife was speaking softly, begging him to stay calm. Her voice shook as she whispered, "What would Severus say?"

Lucius's gaze narrowed at them as his son took a deep breath, straightened, and turned back to face the girl again. Bella hissed at her and sat back on her heels, pulling her blade.

What would Severus say, Lucius thought.

What had Draco been hiding from him with Severus's Occlumency tricks.

The girl screamed as the knife dug into her skin, and a ragged breath had him glancing over his shoulder again. He watched Draco's eye twitch, his ribs falling and expanding quickly. Then back to the girl — her dirty blood trickling down her arm, staining the rug on which Druella had stood just last month, warning him about his son.

The Malfoy heart can be quite obstinate, especially about a woman it can't have.

Lucius's head swam. He rubbed his brow.

Hours later — after the commotion, after the Dark Lord's torture, after Narcissa had sent a shaking Draco back to the relative safety of Hogwarts early — Lucius stalked up the stairs to the east wing.

There were charms on his son's bedroom door. Lucius snarled as he broke through them and stormed inside. He pointed his wand at the bed, and the mattress turned, the pillows and bedding tumbling to the floor.

Nothing there.

He tugged out the bedside drawer — only trinkets and candy wrappers.

With a wave of his wand, every book on the shelves flew to the carpets, their pages flipping wildly as the wind searched for notes tucked between covers.

A picture of Draco with Crabbe and Goyle zoomed into his hands, and Lucius pried open the frame, searching behind the photograph for anything hidden behind the backing.

Lucius's fingers itched with rage. His son. His son, hiding a girl from him.

He stormed into the bathroom, tearing drawers out of their hinges and ripping the mirror off the wall — still nothing. But he'd find it. Fools in love always left traces.

The door to the closet blew open, and the pockets of every cloak turned inside out. Sickles fell to the floor like raindrops, chewing gum wrappers fluttered down like snow. The drawers burst open, and he dug his hand into the mounds of socks, then the jumpers.

The final drawer held a shoebox and a blanket. The blanket flew up into the air, shaking loose. Nothing.

Lucius knelt and popped the shoebox—

Hermione Granger stared up at him. A clipping from the Prophet.

The air left his lungs. He collapsed on the floor, dragging the box into his lap.

His shaking fingers lifted the article to find another — her eyes wide in panic, her arms unwinding from Potter's shoulders as the camera clicked. And underneath it, another.

The clippings were pristine. Cut with care. He could almost feel how many times careful fingers had skated across them, tracing the edges.

Blood rushed in his ears. She wasn't just a Muggle-born. No, his son had to be fool enough to fall for the most famous one. The one who'd helped jeopardize the lives of their entire family.

He sat in his son's closet, staring at a dozen Hermione Grangers as they stared back at him; blinking, wide-eyed, laughing.

His gaze caught on a ribbon in the corner of the box — red and gold. And in his mind's eye, Lucius saw it falling from brown curls like a blossom from a tree.

56%

When she finally burrowed under the covers that night, it occurred to her that it might be better that Bella wasn't home yet. Her head was still turned around, and she needed time to put this stupid infatuation to rest.

She spent the next two days burying herself in books, letters, and time with her parents. It wasn't until Sunday morning that she woke to a voice screeching, "What in Merlin's name are you doing in here?"

Narcissa bolted upright, trying to get her bearings. It took her a moment to remember she'd slept in Andromeda's bed the past two nights, staring at the ceiling and wondering where she was. But now Bella was standing in the doorway, her brows arched and her hands on her hips.

Narcissa's breath hitched, and she threw back the covers and ran to her. Bella caught her in a hug, and Narcissa squeezed her tightly, murmuring, "I missed you," into her shoulder.

"I'm sorry I wasn't home. And I know I've been terrible about writing, too— but oh, Narcissa!" Bella grabbed her arms. "I have so much to tell you. You must come with me to Walburga's next week. There's so many people I want to introduce you to."

Narcissa's heart lifted. "Really? Like who?"

Bella shut the door, and her cheeks were flushed when she spun around. "There's a man, Narcissa. He joins our parties and says the most brilliant things about our rights as witches and wizards. How they've been stolen from us, and how we can take them back."

Something in the words sent shivers down Narcissa's spine. "Oh. I think I've heard some whispers at Hogwarts about that—"

Bella scoffed. "Child's play. All talk and no action, like Father and his friends. He is different." Her gaze burned with a fierceness Narcissa hadn't seen in some time. "You have to hear him, Cissy. He has ideas on how to put Muggles in their proper place. How to retake what is ours by right, and by blood."

A coldness prickled through Narcissa's skin. Shaking her head, she forced a smile. "Careful, Bella. I'm sure this man is wonderful, but don't forget that you're engaged."

Bella's face hardened, and she stared at Narcissa like she was sap stuck to her shoe.

"Not everything is about matches and weddings, Cissy," she hissed, and Narcissa felt it slash across her. "I'm a pure-blood, a Black, and a woman, in that order. When I'm a wife, it will be the last item on the list."

"Bella—"

"You see, he understands my potential." She stepped into her, and Narcissa nearly shrank back. "Marriage and procreation are necessary evils, not something to simper over like our mother and her silly friends."

"I'm sorry." Narcissa's face burned with shock, and shame. "I didn't mean to insult you. I'm sure you know more about these things than I do. I was confused."

There was a tense silence. Then Bella sighed, her features relaxing. "It's alright. You don't know any better. But speaking of weddings"— her nose wrinkled—"I need you today."

The air rushed from Narcissa's lungs. "What for?"

"We've been invited to Malfoy Manor this morning. Didn't Mother tell you?"

"I—I have things to do actually. I really can't—"

"Come off it, Cissy. If I have to go, so do you."

"Why?" Narcissa's anger surged before she could bite her tongue. "It's your wedding, not mine. If you hate all this planning and preening then I fail to see how I could make it more tolerable."

Bella lifted a cool brow at her, and Narcissa faltered.

"I'm sorry." She smoothed her nightgown. "I just think you should spend more time alone with Lucius if you're to be married. He might surprise you."

Snorting, Bella turned toward Andromeda's mirror and wound a curl around her finger. "I doubt it. I suppose he's clever enough, but the Malfoys lack vision and conviction. I don't know if time will make him more interesting to me."

He's remarkably interesting, Narcissa thought. Her anger began thrumming again, and she was grateful Bella was too busy with her reflection to dip into her with sharp claws.

"This isn't the first time I've heard you dismiss him, Bella. I know you're not eager to get married, but you don't have to choose someone who you think has little chance of ever making you happy." She took a slow breath. "Mother mentioned you've been spending an awful lot of time at the Lestrange's—"

Bella laughed, and with a final jerk of a curl, she prowled to her. "You don't understand at all, do you? Whether it's Lucius or Rodolphus or Evan Rosier makes no difference to me." Her gaze was cold and disapproving. "I have my eye on much bigger things, Cissy. You'll see."

Narcissa blinked at her, trying to wrap her mind around it. Marriage, raising children, growing old together — all without affection. She opened her mouth to ask what "bigger things" she meant, but Bella was already striding to the door.

"We leave for Malfoy Manor in an hour."

"Bella, wait."

Her sister stopped in the doorway.

"Did Andromeda say anything to you? About running away?"

The room was silent, and still. And then—

"Never speak that name to me again." Bella's voice was pure poison. Narcissa flinched from the rage in it.

Abruptly, her face cooled again. "I'm going to speak to Mother and Father about having this room remodeled. It quite disgusts me, knowing the filth that used to live here." She turned to leave. "One hour, Cissy."

The door clicked, and Narcissa's heart crumbled to dust. She waited until Bella's footsteps faded before she let herself sink on the bed, her vision blurring.

Being in her childhood home was like living with a ghost no one would acknowledge.

Her parents hadn't said a word about Andromeda since she'd returned. And on her first night, she'd felt her mother float through her mind at dinner, whispering a reprimand into her consciousness every time her thoughts strayed to her sister.

Two weeks ago, when Narcissa had joined her father and mother in the Headmaster's office for a meeting with Dumbledore and the Slytherin Head of House, they'd offered her father Andromeda's trunk of possessions. He'd told them to burn it. But Narcissa had stayed, ignoring the pity in Dumbledore's eyes when she asked if she could take a look.

She'd found nothing of importance except for the jade necklace her sister had never taken off. She'd put it on that day, slipping it under her blouse to rest over her heart.

Narcissa sat on the bed for a few minutes longer, trying to reconcile the memory of her sister with this empty room. It was only a shell of her — a hollow reminder, like the ache in her chest.

She supposed she could part with that shell, if she had to. After all, Andromeda had chosen to leave her. She still had one sister left.

Narcissa's fingers drifted beneath her nightgown, where the jade necklace lay against her collarbone. She unclasped it and dropped it in her lap, staring at it for a few moments before balling it into a fist. She returned to her own room to prepare for their visit, trying to ignore the flutter of dread and anticipation in her stomach.

An hour later, the four of them were Apparating to the hill. Her mother was dressed as elegantly as ever, but her face was ashen. She hadn't left the house for two weeks. Bella was ignoring her, and Narcissa tried not to focus only how badly it stung when she wouldn't meet her gaze.

The Manor was just as imposing as the last time she'd visited. The windows on the top floor all seemed to bore into her like eyes, judging her. Their walk down the gravel drive was much more somber this time, with Andromeda's absence and their mother's grief hovering over them like a dark cloud.

Abraxas met them in the entry hall, and Narcissa caught sight of Lucius's mother for the first time — a thin, stern-faced woman who was pale and bony. She looked supremely displeased to be entertaining guests.

Narcissa kept her hands folded in front of her, her eyes concentrated on the floor, until — like a Summoning Charm — her gaze lifted to the marble staircase, where Lucius was rushing down to join them.

"Apologies," he said with a smile.

Her stomach flipped over, her sadness a distant memory as she took him in. His hair was wet from his bath, and his sleeves were rolled to his elbows.

She had to press her eyes closed as memories shot up — his groan against her mouth, the soft press of his lips that made her desperate, squirming. The rough pads of his fingers on her jaw as he held her like crystal.

"Lucy. Good to see you."

Her sister's voice jarred her into her body. She refocused, watching as Lucius shook hands with her father, kissed her mother's knuckles, and pressed another kiss to Bella's cheek.

Narcissa swallowed, her throat dry as sand, and just as she lifted her hand in greeting, Lucius turned his eyes on her, stepped in close, and brushed his lips over her cheek. A soft sweep of his mouth, just a hair's breadth from her lips. His hand rose to her waist, just inches lower than etiquette allowed. His scent was warm and spicy, and his breath was crisp as he whispered, "Cissa," before pulling away.

It was over in less than a second. And without even a glance back at her, he turned to her father, leaving her wondering if she'd imagined it.

But her skin was on fire. Her cheek burned, and her waist tingled from the soft press of his fingertips.

She licked her lips and lowered her eyes.

"Cygnus," Lucius was saying. "My parents and I are so very sorry to hear about Andromeda."

A silence fell over the entry hall. Her mother seemed unsteady on her feet.

"Very kind of you, Lucius"—her father nodded to him—"and we thank you for your earlier condolences. But we hope this visit can be free of such matters. We're eager to put the incident behind us, as I'm sure you understand."

"We do," said Abraxas, with a curt nod. "Shall we take tea?" The group murmured its assent, and Lucius's mother stepped forward. "I think my wife would prefer to take her tea with you in private, Druella. I believe she wanted to discuss the guest list."

"Of course," said her mother, with a thin smile.

Narcissa tried to follow her mother, but Bella tugged her back, tucking their arms together. And Narcissa almost felt giddy that she was acknowledging her again.

They followed Abraxas to the drawing room, and Narcissa was quick to claim a seat next to her sister on the couch. Abraxas, Cygnus, and Lucius took armchairs.

The tea service was brought out, and Narcissa looked for Mippy, finding her by the drink cart. The girl elf gave her a toothy smile before disappearing.

"How were your O.W.L.s, Narcissa?"

66%

Narcissa followed at a distance. She didn't miss Bella's sneer when she took Lucius's offered arm. Or how quickly she stopped to fuss with her shoe, dropping his arm at the earliest opportunity.

They wove through the grounds as Abraxas delivered an unending supply of history. As he stopped to show them the tree that had survived some battle in 1643, Narcissa turned to gaze at the pond and the gazebo. The white peacocks were bathing on the shore, and the sun gleamed over the grass.

It wasn't until she felt a shadow appear at her side that she realized she was alone with him. Her eyes flickered to the rest of the party as they followed Abraxas around a hedge.

"We should join them," she said.

"Hm. We should."

He made no move to do so.

Narcissa felt each pump of blood through her veins. She refused to look up at him, focusing on the treetops above the gazebo instead.

"What a terribly clever way to postpone your nuptials, Lucius." She struggled for composure, but the words were clawing to get out. "Using my family's tragedy in such a way is nothing short of diabolical—"

"I don't know what you mean, Miss Black. I was simply suggesting an idea to keep every party satisfied."

Narcissa huffed, watching her father and sister's heads bob next to Abraxas's over the hedges. The moment they disappeared from view, Lucius's fingers brushed against hers.

Yanking her hand away, she stepped to the other side of the old tree. She could breathe easier when his scent wasn't suffocating her.

"You said that Andromeda's choices wouldn't affect your intention to marry Bella."

"I promised I would never abandon you. There's a difference."

"Enough." She curled her hands into fists. "You're purposefully twisting the conversation to suit your agenda—"

"Perhaps you can't correctly recall anything that happened before you kissed me"—Narcissa gasped and spun to him—"which, of course, I understand—"

"Don't ever speak of that again—"

"I can't stop thinking about your mouth." His eyes were hot on hers, even from the small distance she'd created between them.

Blinking, Narcissa stumbled to peer at the hedges.

"Or your fingers on my collar."

She whipped around, and found his gaze molten on her.

"Lucius."

"Or the sounds you make when—"

She stormed over and shoved him, his back falling against the tree trunk. "What is wrong with you?"

"Do you?" he asked, perfectly calm. "Think about it?"

"No!" Narcissa shook her head, chest heaving. "Not at all. I've quite forgotten it."

"Hm." He tilted his head and regarded her shrewdly. She was lost in the grey when he stepped forward, bringing their bodies close in a slow movement. "I can remind you."

Her lips parted on a silent gasp, and his eyes dropped to them without hesitation.

"It can't happen again," she managed. "I told you."

Gently, his hand lifted her jaw, as if she were the most delicate thing he'd ever held. She felt faint with longing for him, every inch of her body sighing from his touch, his scent.

"Cissa." His whisper was like oil across her skin.

Her eyes were closing, her heart fluttering like a bird's wings against its cage.

The sound of voices. Her name called.

Lucius stepped away swiftly as she drew a shuddering breath and shouted, "I'm here!"

Pasting on a bright smile, Narcissa rejoined the party without a backwards glance.

When they said their goodbyes, his lips passed over her cheek again. She stared daggers at him, but the desire coiling in her simply rattled its tail.

~*~

Narcissa followed the guard down the long corridor. The starched grey robes scratched her skin, and she ached for a soak in her bath.

Just a little while longer.

He led her into a small waiting room with fireplaces for arrivals and departures. "Here," he said gruffly, pointing at the far counter, and left without another word.

With careful steps, Narcissa approached the Azkaban officer shuffling through paperwork behind the grate. "Name," he demanded.

"Narcissa Malfoy."

He glanced up, his eyes running over her as his lip curled, like she was covered in mud. He grabbed for a file and stamped it twice. "Need your signature here."

She took the quill and signed in crisp movements. He slid a bag of her clothes to her — the ones she'd worn on the day of their arrest, gloves and all — and passed over a small pouch. She eyed it warily before accepting.

It wasn't until she opened it that she remembered the jewelry that had been taken from her on the day of their arrest. Her earrings and Andromeda's necklace fell into her palm, followed by the Malfoy diamond. Her breath grew shallow as she stared down at it, watching it glitter in the low light.

"That thing gave us some trouble when you checked in," the officer said. "I'm sure you heard."

She cleared her throat. "Yes. I tried to tell the officer to be careful with it. It's cursed."

"Well, you weren't clear enough. He was in St. Mungo's for three weeks, you know." His eyes tightened as he glared at her, like she'd personally cursed him.

Narcissa inclined her head demurely. "I would like to write to him and apologize, if at all possible."

The officer assessed her for a moment before grumbling and jotting down a name. She thanked him when he slid the scrap of parchment over. He passed over her wand next, along with a practiced speech about the conditions of her probation, and when she could expect a Floo call from the D.M.L.E.

"I hope to visit my son as soon as possible. Can I file that request here?"

The guard scowled at her. "I'll have it owled to you."

She pressed her lips into a smile and thanked him, focusing on the cypress humming between her fingertips. Another guard showed her to the Floo, and she squared her shoulders as she stepped through, calling out for Malfoy Manor.

The hiss of the dying fireplace echoed through the entry hall. The Ministry had required her to sign paperwork releasing them of liability for the Manor's condition — for damages caused during search and seizure, and general disrepair.

The smoke lifted, and Narcissa steeled herself. She turned in a circle, wincing in anticipation of seeing damage to centuries old wallpaper, stolen paintings, cracked marble—

But everything was just as she'd left it. Narcissa gaped up at the chandelier, finding the crystals sparkling clean. She ran a finger over the fireplace mantle. Not a speck of dust to be found.

Narcissa moved toward the staircase, gripping her wand. The Wizengamot had ordered the release of all their elves, but the estate looked as though no one had ever left.

"Mistress!"

Narcissa jolted, spinning to find wide and teary green eyes on her. "Mippy?"

"Mistress is home!"

Mippy flung herself at her. Narcissa's bags dropped at the impact, her legs nearly buckling as the elf clutched at her, weeping into her robes. Her chest panged with something long-forgotten, and she hugged Mippy tightly before gently extricating herself.

She knelt down. "Mippy, what are you doing here?"

The elf sniffed. "Mippy never left. They come for Remmy and Plumb and Hix, but Mippy hid. Mippy didn't want to go."

Narcissa sighed, her shoulders sagging. "You can't stay, dear. The Ministry won't allow the Malfoys to keep indentured servants any longer." She reached for her dropped bag, picking up the clothes that had fallen. "I've missed you terribly, but I can't say I disagree with the decision."

Looking up, she found Mippy staring at the glove she held, ready to drop it back into the bag. She pointed a waxy finger at it.

"Mippy doesn't have to be a servant. Mippy can be a friend."

A warmth filled Narcissa's heart, and she found herself smiling in a way she hadn't since before the dank cell of Azkaban. She extended the glove to her, and almost chuckled as she watched Mippy's eyes grow wide. The elf snatched it and put it on, reaching her arm out like one might admire a ring.

Her gaze snapped up to her. "Dinner? Mippy can make soup!"

She disappeared with a crack! Narcissa brushed her lashes, grabbed her belongings, and made her way upstairs.

She opened the door to her bedroom slowly, half-expecting to see Lucius at his writing desk with a loose smile. After changing out of her Azkaban uniform, she threw it into the fire and watched it burn. Lucius's side of the closet smelled like him still, and she fought the urge to bury her face in his clothing. She changed into her own familiar robes before returning to her vanity.

Carefully, she replaced the earrings. She laid Andromeda's necklace out, fiddling with the chain.

Her diamond ring lay on the polished wood, glittering and expectant. Narcissa softly placed it into an ornate ring box.

She didn't need a reminder on her finger that she was alone. She'd chosen her husband, but he'd chosen power.

She would have to get used to being Lady Malfoy by herself.

Snapping the box closed, Narcissa turned and headed downstairs to help Mippy in the kitchens.

~*~

My dearest, Narcissa,

I believe your first Hogsmeade trip of the school year is this weekend. I will be doing some business there and would love the opportunity to see my soon-to-be-sister.

Perhaps I could take you to lunch at Puddifoot's to celebrate your birthday.

Yours,

Lucius Malfoy

Narcissa's vision swam as she stared down at the letter, her pulse in her fingertips. She had to yank it close to her chest when Siobhan tried to look over her shoulder.

Lunch with Lucius. Alone.

She swallowed and quickly reached for her pumpkin juice.

She hadn't seen him since the day in the Manor, when he'd tried to kiss her again. Warmth curled in her belly at the memory.

Closing her eyes, she crumpled the letter beneath the table.

It was too dangerous.

She would have to stay home from Hogsmeade. That was the only answer.

It was fine, really. Bella still wasn't answering her letters. The whispers that had used to follow her in the corridors had faded, but had been replaced by whispers about politics, and war. Every night in the Slytherin Common Room, students murmured about disappearances, and a man called 'The Dark Lord.' Narcissa cared for none of it.

She was getting more practice at being alone.

Her fingers pressed between her breasts, where a jade necklace rested against her skin.

~*~