Be All My Secrets Remembered

La Reine Noire

Story Summary:
'Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall.' Spanning from spring of 1976 through the fateful Halloween night of 1981, the adventures and misadventures of Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, and their contemporaries, particularly those belonging to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, Toujours Dysfunctional. Warnings: contains dark thematic material, violence, innuendo, as many literary references as can be managed, and very mild slash.

Chapter 11 - All That Glitters

Chapter Summary:
Wherein the Rosier family holds its annual Yule gathering, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy continue to act like newlyweds, much to the annoyance of those around them, Bellatrix Lestrange considers her past choices and future options, and the Knights of Walpurgis are officially introduced to their new leader.
Posted:
03/16/2005
Hits:
2,298
Author's Note:
This is a complete and utter jump from the previous chapters, in tone as well as place and character. I succumbed to the desire to write more about the illustrious Black family. However, I had wondered through the first ten chapters what to do about a certain Lord Voldemort who's about, but nowhere near Hogwarts. And while I'm sure the idea of the Big Evil socialising at a dinner party isn't particularly big or evil, the fantastic


Chapter Eleven: All That Glitters

December 1976

The Rosier seat in Herefordshire dated from the eighteenth century, a pillared structure built of pristine cream-coloured limestone. The very image of upper-class perfection carried through to the interior, with its glitter of mirrors and chandeliers against velvet curtains and brocade-panelled walls.

So may the outward shows be least themselves:

The world is still deceiv'd with ornament.

Narcissa Malfoy, née Black, hid her rather cynical thoughts behind a dazzling smile. She, of all people, was the last person in the world to criticise the décor. Perhaps slightly excessive for her tastes, but let it never be said that she did not demand the best. No, it was more than that. She had a slightly niggling feeling of discomfort. Nothing overt, but she had learnt long ago not to discount her 'feelings'.

She was conscious of the fact that, in front of her, Augustus Rookwood had stopped speaking, and was staring at her with frank and unconcealed admiration. Her smile did not fade as she took a sip of champagne, but her gaze had drifted over his shoulder, lingering boldly on her husband.

Now really, Narcissa. You've been married six months. Afterglow is supposed to fade. And yet somehow she could not resist, especially as he finally glanced her way, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly upward as if trying his level best to hide a smile. Entirely conscious of precisely how shameless her mother would have thought her behaviour--A good thing Mother isn't here, then--she dragged her tongue across her upper lip, fighting the urge to laugh.

A strangled gulp from Mr Rookwood took her attention from Lucius for a second, just long enough for her to incline her head politely and slip past him in the general direction of the champagne fountain. As she passed her husband, however, he caught her arm to whisper with ill-concealed fondness, "Minx."

In response, she merely smiled again. Had they not been standing directly in front of his godfather, she might have spoken to the charge. Instead, she turned slightly to address the older gentleman now glaring quite openly at her through hooded black eyes. "Enjoying the evening, sir?"

"I was, yes," said Cassius Snape shortly. "And yourself?"

"Quite." Narcissa's smile widened, acquired the slightest hint of flirtation. "Shall I fetch you another drink?"

"I think I've had more than enough."

"Another for me, love?" interjected her husband. With a quick nod of thanks, she took his glass and moved toward the fountain once more.

The smile faded as she turned, congealed into icy non-expression. There were very few people she had hated more than her esteemed--and thankfully dead--father-in-law, and Cassius Snape never ceased to remind her of him. Lucius, unsurprisingly, had insisted upon keeping up at least the pretence of politeness with the man whom Narcissa had described on numerous occasions as a drunken wastrel, if only out of respect...for what, she did not know. Of course, if it had anything to do with his father, Lucius was unlikely to have mentioned it, knowing Narcissa's feelings on the subject of Dorian Malfoy.

The mess started at the very end of summer holidays, just before the start of her final year at Hogwarts. She and Lucius had been involved in some way over the two years before that, a relationship that had started during his final year, her fifth, as a bit of fun, nothing serious in the slightest, but by the time he graduated, it was fairly clear that neither of them wished to end it. The golden pair, everyone had called them.

And Dorian, for reasons Narcissa never discovered, had taken it upon himself to test his son's...what had he called it? Capacity. I wanted to see what you were capable of. And, oh, how they had seen. They had all seen, Narcissa most of all.

The very thought made her shudder now, even though Dorian was dead and it was far in the past. As she turned around, however, she realised the shudder may well have coincided with the arrival of her sister. Bellatrix had never been one to enter unnoticed. Clad in her trademark red, she outshone poor Rodolphus as she always seemed to do. Not that he minded. He showed her off as one might show off a prized possession, and that Bellatrix was.

Are you happy with that, Bella? Happy to be paraded about as if nothing at all had happened, while we all know what you do in your spare time?

Mother was scandalised, of course, but there were few things that didn't scandalise her. When Andromeda ran off with that Mudblood, she had taken to her bed for nearly three weeks. Five months later, when the owl arrived informing everyone that the first grandchild of the House of Black had been born, it had been broken-hearted hysterics. But then again, Andromeda had been her favourite, her first-born. Aunt Lavinia had blasted her from the family tree, not Mother. Mother still lived in hope that it had all been a horrible dream.

As for Narcissa...her feelings on the matter were not of the sort that she would admit to anyone. Not Lucius, certainly not Bellatrix. Building up the walls already? Shame, shame.

And now Bellatrix had made her way to the corner where Narcissa stood. "Glaring rather fiercely for a civilised party, aren't we?"

"You're the only one who would have noticed," her sister retorted. "You look well."

"As do you. Marriage seems to agree with you."

Unbidden, Narcissa's gaze flickered back to her husband. "Yes, I daresay it does."

"Don't you want to hear what I've been up to?"

"I don't need to, Bella. The Daily Prophet tells me anything I could possibly want to know about you, and quite a few things I'd rather not." Narcissa finished her champagne in a single swallow and set the glass down on the table. "You could at least be discreet."

"Rodolphus doesn't care," her sister parried easily. "The Dark Lord..."

"Oh, will you stop that nonsense!" she cut Bellatrix off with a groan. "This is not the sort of thing you ought to be pursuing in public, Bella. You're drawing attention. I'm quite sure that's the last thing your Dark Lord wants."

"You're entirely wrong," replied Bellatrix, smiling smugly. "He wants publicity. He wants the world to know what's to come." She started toward the centre of the room, pausing only to remark over her shoulder, "Your husband is next."

"What?"

Her sister's smile had grown, her eyes fully opened for the first time that night, dark, framed by long lashes. "You think you know your darling Lucius, pretty 'Cissa? Well, think again. You're his wife. His lovely, discreet, society wife. That's all you'll ever be to him. Every man has a dark side. It's merely a matter of how often they let it out to play."

The old Narcissa would have cried. Bellatrix had always known how to make her cry, from the very beginning. But that was Narcissa Black, she who could hold her own against anyone and everyone except her darkly brilliant twin sister. She was Mrs Lucius Malfoy, now, a position she knew rankled Bellatrix far more than she would ever admit. The Lestranges were new money, after all; purebloods, but of the same ilk as the Notts and the Potters, for all the airs they put on. Reputations have a price, sister mine. I was quiet, subservient, forgiving, and most of all, patient. And I walked away with the prize. Can't have your cake and eat it too. She straightened her back, squared her shoulders, and walked back into the room, lingering at her sister's side to murmur, "I assure you, Bella, your days as my husband's whore finished long before we were married."

Bellatrix stopped smiling and Narcissa could feel her reach for her wand on instinct.

"Temper, temper, Bella." There was an obvious smile in her voice, the silky drawl she had picked up from Lucius over the years, put to its best use in situations such as these. "The Rosiers don't appreciate violence as much as you seem to."

"If you weren't my sister..."

"Oh, don't you even start," the rebuttal was quick, icy-sharp. Narcissa's hand dropped from her sister's arm. "You've done worse by me than you have by anyone else so far." Shooting her one last glare, Narcissa left her. Lucius was deep in conversation with Rookwood and several others now, and while she would have loved to listen, there was no point in doing so with Bellatrix so close by. Why do you let her provoke you like this? Lucius tells you everything.

Or did he?

Cursing Bellatrix and her constant insistence on muddying the waters, Narcissa retreated to a windowed alcove. Suddenly, above all things, she missed her cousin. Sirius would have fought back, would have roused the infamous Black temper and possibly ended up in a duel in the middle of the ballroom. Narcissa had spent too many years under the tutelage of her mother and Aunt Lavinia, who had given up on Bellatrix almost immediately. Too wild, Aunt Lavinia had declared. We'll be lucky to find her a keeper, let alone a husband.

And yet Lucius---

Don't think about it, Narcissa. He married you. He loves you. And how was she any better than him, falling prey to jealousy without proof? Even Dorian Malfoy's word was worth more than her sister's.

"Is something the matter, Mrs Malfoy?"

She turned from the window, startled, to find herself looking into Cassius Snape's eyes, set in a far younger face. His son, of course. Narcissa vaguely recalled him from school, a small, solitary boy...Saturninus? No... "Severus Snape," she finally said, managing a faint smile. "No, I'm quite alright, thank you."

"You know my name?"

"I do indeed. I was in Slytherin not so very long ago." The recollection was a particularly potent one, from the beginning of her fifth year. Sirius and that friend of his with the messy hair--a Potter, wasn't he?--had cornered one of the Slytherin boys in a corridor. Sirius Rigel Black, what in the name of all Avernis do you think you're doing? I don't care what you and Bella do at home. This isn't home. Do you understand me? They had stepped away, Sirius openly startled at her tone, his lower lip trembling ever so slightly, enough almost to make her relent. Thankfully, her gaze fell upon their victim and, steeling herself, she sent them off. Her first disciplinary action as a Prefect. Ironic that it was against her favourite cousin.

Don't you mean your filthy Gryffindor blood traitor cousin? Like your filthy Hufflepuff blood traitor sister? Thank the stars you and Bella turned out right.

She could have laughed at that, rasping bitter laughter. Yes, it had turned out right in the end, but Aunt Lavinia hadn't seen the middle. Only Andromeda knew the half of it, and even that the smaller half. And though Narcissa might have told her everything and gained herself an invaluable ally, circumstances and certain inconvenient Mudbloods had dictated otherwise.

You want to know why I don't answer you, Andromeda? Because I needed you more than anything and all you did was leave. You made your choice. Now live with the consequences.

Narcissa blinked, forcing her thoughts back to the young man in front of her. "What year are you now?" she finally enquired, though she knew the answer full well.

"Sixth," he replied with a shrug. "You called off your cousin and Potter."

"You recall that?" Her eyes narrowed in bemused surprise and she patted the space on the window seat beside her. He hesitated only a second or two before seating himself rather stiffly. "It was just the once, and five years ago to boot."

"It was also the only time I've ever known Black to listen to anyone, Prefect or not," Severus admitted with what was almost a smile. "Nowadays he doesn't even listen to them."

"That hardly surprises me," said Narcissa, unable to quite hide her smile. "A family trait, I'm afraid. We've never been particularly good at abiding by rules we did not set." Then, noting the expression on his face, she added, "Of course, you already had something of a protector, if my recollection serves."

Severus flushed slightly. "I never asked for it. Father told Malfoy to keep an eye on me. And, no offence to your husband, but things only got worse after he left."

"None taken. My cousin always was and still remains unable to take no for an answer. Another infamous Black family trait. And as for Lucius, he did mean well."

"I know he did." Severus' eyes, too, had moved to the two men, his father and Lucius. "But it's hardly a source of pride for an eleven-year-old boy to know his father believed he needed protection."

"Your father never struck me as particularly perceptive," Narcissa pointed out. "Are you staying with him?"

"No, I came here from school. I've not stayed there since..." He broke off.

Narcissa nodded, reaching out almost tentatively to place one hand on his shoulder. "I heard about your mother while I was in France. I'm afraid I don't remember her very well, but she seemed very sweet, if quiet."

Semele Snape, née Rookwood. Aunt Lavinia and Mother had always referred to her as 'the poor thing' for having married into the Snape family. They were well on their way 'out', supposedly, had been since the day Octavius Snape died in the service of the wizard Grindelwald, leaving the tottering family fortunes in the hands of his then-twelve-year-old son, Cassius. Though at least some blame could be laid at the door of his widow, Fulvia, as overbearing a matriarch as one could find, perhaps even worse than Aunt Lavinia...

Sometimes Narcissa wondered if her mind really was nothing more than an interconnected catalogue of names, dates, and facts. Lucius had teased her mercilessly for her top N.E.W.T.s in History of Magic, of all things. But it had its uses. There was an odd light in Severus Snape's eyes now, something that verged on appreciation.

"She didn't leave the house often," he replied softly. "But thank you."

"You don't see your father much, then?"

"Would you, given the choice?" was the guarded retort, bringing an unbidden and surprisingly genuine smile to Narcissa's face. He relaxed visibly, observing with some irony, "I can't see how your husband tolerates him."

"Nor can I," she admitted ruefully, "but some ties are unfortunately too strong to break on account of mere dislike."

"I don't even know why they invited him. It's not as though our family matters anymore, or so people keep informing me." Bitterness congealed in the words and he averted his eyes from her face, focusing on the ground. Narcissa, characteristically, kept quiet. "Father blames the fall of Grindelwald, but anyone with half a brain knows better..." He frowned now, glancing back up at her. "How did you do that?"

"Do what?" she enquired innocently.

"I don't tell people things. Ever." His mouth twisted, as he added, "Especially not Sirius Black's cousin, however different from him. How did you do that?"

"I listened, Mr Snape," Narcissa replied softly, leaning toward him. "People love to hear themselves talk, and if you're careful enough, they won't even notice that you listened."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"My reasons are entirely self-serving, I assure you. I dislike your father intensely and want him away from my husband. However, you strike me as being very different from him. If you're ever in need of help, Mr Snape, do not hesitate to ask."

Severus looked suspicious, to say the very least. "Do you know why Mr Rosier invited Father?"

"I wouldn't recommend you take my word for it, but I believe his son had something to do with it. Evan seems to have taken a liking to you. Your father, from the looks of it, was a mere accessory." She rose to her feet. "Take care, Mr Snape."

"I...thank you, Mrs Malfoy." His head had lowered again, hiding his eyes from view.

***

So the golden pair was at it again. Bellatrix would have liked nothing better than to send a vast array of disfiguring hexes in her sister's direction; it was taking all her efforts to keep from doing precisely that. Six months, they'd been married. Surely they could keep their hands off one another by now! But apparently not. Of course, the more Bellatrix thought about it, the more she suspected Narcissa was doing it deliberately.

"Of course she is. She's found a weakness and is exploiting it masterfully," came the distinctively soft voice from the hooded gentleman sitting beside her. "I would expect no less from a sister of yours, let alone your twin."

"Don't remind me," Bellatrix snapped. "If this is the game she wants to play, I'll give her--"

"No, you will not." The order, just as soft as his previous words but no less an order, stilled her instantly. "This is not the time for petty infighting, Bella. You know better than that."

She did. And besides, what did it matter that Narcissa had her silly triumphs? She, Bellatrix, would win the war in the end. Her Master trusted her above all others, after all. And when he took his power, he would reward her with whatever she pleased. Anything she pleased.

Lucius was staring intently at his wife now, apparently trying as hard as he possibly could to keep a straight face, but Bellatrix caught the sharp intake of breath even if nobody else did. Narcissa's answering smile was positively wicked. What she was doing wasn't entirely clear, but a quick glance beneath Narcissa's chair revealed one abandoned shoe. Oldest trick in the book. Bellatrix rolled her eyes and busied herself with her food. When she looked up again, both her sister and brother-in-law had vanished.

"You care for him."

It wasn't a question. Bellatrix shrugged. "I care for no-one."

"My mistake," he conceded, ironic amusement evident in his voice. She wasn't lying as such--she did not care for Lucius in the slightest--but that was beside the point. And the Dark Lord knew the truth. He always did. Nobody had ever thought to teach Bellatrix anything resembling Occlumency when she was barely capable of hiding her feelings in the first place.

And it hurt. This was the first time she had seen them together since the wedding reception six months before, and there had been more than enough distraction that evening that she barely noticed them. Her idiot cousin and his Mudblood friends, for one. She almost missed Sirius. Almost.

Bellatrix stood. He let her go, no doubt entirely sure that she would return. And she was fairly sure she would, just not for a little while yet. She wasn't sure how long it had been since Lucius and Narcissa's disappearance, or where they might have gone, but she was certain she did not want to know. That was the last thing she wanted to see.

Then she heard the familiar footsteps and sweep of robes behind her, looked over her shoulder into the darkness beneath the hood.

"He's too cold for you, Bella."

She nodded, teeth gritted.

"You don't believe me," he observed, placing his hands on her shoulders.

"I don't know what you mean," retorted Bellatrix. "Of course he's cold; he's practically frozen. They suit one another perfectly."

What, you thought to *melt* me, Bellatrix? He had laughed at her. But even when she focused all her fury, hatred, and malice into her wand, he had blocked her Cruciatus before she had made it halfway through the word. I'm faster than you. And you're angry. Never attack when you're angry, Bellatrix. I thought you knew that already. He had not cursed her back, as she would have done were their situations reversed. He merely stood in the doorway, that infuriating polite mask hiding anything he might have been feeling. If he felt anything at all.

She stiffened at the memory, at the others that followed. Never a crack in the ice, no, not from Lucius Malfoy, even in the most intimate of moments. Except when he looked at her sister. And that, again, was unforgivable.

"He treated me like a child," she finally said. "He laughed at me. Nobody laughs at me."

She felt his shrug rather than saw it. "He's arrogant, yes. But I need him, or should I say I need a man like him. As much as I adore you, my spitfire, cooler heads always prevail in crises. And he's quite the rising star in the Ministry these days."

"I'd rather..."

"I know what you'd rather, and perhaps you may have the chance someday. When I prevail, Bella, have I not promised you anything you wanted?"

"Even that?" she breathed, arching her back slightly. "Even him? To do with as I please?"

"Why, certainly. Let it not be said I don't reward the most faithful of my allies. And accidents happen to even the most capable of men, do they not?" The words were low-pitched and his breath tickled her ear.

"Bellatrix?" It was her husband's voice calling from the doorway. Her companion turned as well, and she saw Rodolphus straighten on instinct. "My lord."

"Is something the matter, Lestrange?" His voice, still soft, had grown noticeably colder.

"Rosier was wondering where you'd gone. And Malfoy...you've not seen him, have you?"

Bellatrix shrugged noncommittally. "He and his wife have disappeared. I wouldn't recommend disturbing them."

"But..."

What he was about to say would remain a mystery, as Lucius and Narcissa rounded the corner and came into view, their presence melting the anxiety from his face. Bellatrix averted her eyes, though not quite quickly enough. The golden pair, indeed. Their matching smiles spoke volumes, enough to render the mussed hair and slightly askew clothing nothing more than insult added to injury. Stepping just far enough forward to sweep the train of her robes aside, she stalked back into the ballroom.

From behind, she could hear Lucius' drawled observation, "Bellatrix is displeased. Did the sun rise in the east?"

She did not hear the answer.

***

Rosier was rattling on about the Knights of Walpurgis, but his guest of honour was only half-listening. Safe in the shadows beneath his hood, his eyes continually flickered between Bellatrix Lestrange and the golden Malfoys. Depending on circumstances, of course, icy would probably serve as a better description than golden, but tonight they shone. And Bella flared darkly in response. Even from this distance, he could read her so easily. She had never been one to hide, his Bella, his warrior.

The Malfoys, however...

He frowned, the expression unseen. He had expected no less of Dorian Malfoy's son, as the man had been noted for his skill in both Occlumency and Legilimency. Even as the icy blue-grey eyes had met his when they were introduced, he could read nothing in them. What had surprised him was Bella's sister, just as cool, just as unreadable as her husband. Not quite as effortless, true, as he had felt her pushing him out of her mind. But it was a fact well worth knowing.

She was looking at him now, grey eyes evincing only curiosity. It took a split-second to realise that they were all looking at him now, that Rosier had finally got round to introducing him. He inclined his head with practised grace.

Most of the men in the room, he knew by name if not by face. The so-called Knights of Walpurgis, to whose ranks the pureblood world sent their best and brightest sons. Or so it had been once. Nowadays, they seemed more akin to a social club who spent all their time complaining about politics and Mudbloods.

Well. He could change that. With their support, of course. The Knights of Walpurgis might be little more than a group of glorified malcontents, but the name itself still held power amongst the old pureblood aristocracy. The world he had glimpsed in brilliant flashes during his days at Hogwarts, now his for the taking.

"I am not a man of speeches, I'm afraid," he admitted, his smile evident in spite of the hood. "I find I much prefer to speak to you as individuals. This being said, I am honoured indeed to be officially introduced. Thank you, Mr Rosier, and I hope I shall prove worthy of your endorsement."

Lord Voldemort smiled to himself and made his way back out into the crowd.


Author notes: First italicised lines are from The Merchant of Venice III.ii.73-74.

I’ve seen the ages of the Black sisters in all sorts of combinations, and mine is as follows: Andromeda is the eldest and graduated from Hogwarts at the end of Bellatrix and Narcissa's fourth year. Yes, they are twins. It’s not directly relevant to this storyline, but I like it as a point of both comparison and contrast.

Next chapter: How do you deal with the consequences of 'that night when I had a bit too much to drink'?