Requiem for a Dream

Requiem for a Dream ~ Prologue

The news reached her early that morning. It was expected and had come as no real surprise. Well, that wasn't completely the truth. The death of one's childhood friend did come as a bit of a shock even though it was expected. Still, it was midday and Marguerite had yet to leave her chambers. She lay in her bed, staring at the inlaid wood ceiling. Wondering if she'd even be summoned today.

Not that she was ever really wanted there to begin with.

Draco never ceased to openly show his disgust at her presence at the Manor these past two years. Thousands of words passed between the two and only a small fraction of them lacked any sort of malice.

Then again, Marguerite probably was to blame for most of what occurred between them. The night she arrived... well, Marguerite wasn't exactly the ideal house guest.

Marguerite had shown up on the front door of the Malfoy Manor without warning. Standing at the door, the sky had literally opened up, pouring buckets of water on her. And still, she stood outside in the freezing cold rain, waiting for their house elf to answer the door.

So, when the door finally opened, Marguerite had a right to be pissed off. She just didn't realise it was Lucius's son who would be answering the door.

"Let me into the bloody manor before I throttle you."

Marguerite raised her eyes and found herself face to face with the spitting image of Lucius. There was no question as to his parentage.

"I beg your pardon," the boy said, the chill in his voice making the temperature drop at least ten degrees. "Our house-elf has been lax, and will be punished. Won't you come in? Please."

Marguerite had pushed by him, and things had gone down hill from there. The worst part was when Marguerite had patted him on the head as if he was a small child, or worse yet, a dog, and flipped a bronze Knut his way.

Yes, it was safe to say that there was a strong dislike between Marguerite and Draco.

The incident still brought a smile to her lips, even in these dark days. The look on Draco's face was priceless... especially when she flipped him the bronze Knut. Draco really didn't care for her after that, which came as no surprise. But, one did have to see the situation from Marguerite's point of view.

After leaving the Wizarding world for fifteen years, Marguerite had her reasons for being bitter. And, considering she knew what she would have to do in order to get any information out of Lucius, she wasn't exactly in the best of moods.

Now, after two years of residence in the Malfoy Manor, Marguerite's situation had changed drastically. That, and she didn't view Lucius with the same disgust anymore. She saw him as the boy she had been attracted to and wanted since she was a student at Hogwarts.

Amazing what happened to her point of view once she had become Lucius's mistress.

And so, Marguerite lay in her bed, her arms folded across her chest. Many different trains of thought were running through her head, yet all ended up at the same station. What was going to happen now?

'Where do we go from here...? This isn't where we intended to be...'

Marguerite turned her head to the side as she heard the door open. In the back of her mind, she half hoped it would be Lucius. No, that would be too much to hope for. Instead, Marguerite found herself looking upon the Malfoy house-elf.

"Master sent Banky to fetch Marguerite. Master requests you be downstairs to receive guests."

"Tell Lucius I'll be downstairs shortly."

The house-elf bowed then skittered from the room, leaving Marguerite alone with her thoughts. She may have remained in the dark room longer had Lucius not summoned her. At long last, Marguerite drew herself out of bed and dressed quickly. One never kept Lucius Malfoy waiting.

***

It had been a relatively painless affair. However, one couldn't say which party had found the day to be painless. Lucius was solemn, as was expected. Marguerite... Marguerite couldn't shake the numbness she felt. There was a time when things weren't so complicated. All that had changed when Lucius kissed her when they were in their fifth year. Things returned to their uncomplicated state after they had graduated, only for things to be thrown into a whirlpool once again fifteen years later. When Lucius had kissed her while she lay sleeping at her desk. At that precise moment, simplicity had flown out the window.

Marguerite had become Lucius's mistress.

And, strangely enough, she rarely felt any pangs of guilt regarding her adulterous behaviour. She knew Lucius suffered from them occasionally. How could he not? He was having an affair with his wife's best friend. By all rights, she should have had these same pangs of guilt as well. Just what made her situation so different?

Maybe it was the fact that she had permission from Narcissa. Not direct permission of course, though Marguerite suspected that Narcissa realised her relationship with Lucius wasn't entirely plutonic.

That conversation had always stuck out in Marguerite's mind. Narcissa had approached Marguerite towards the end of their seventh year. By that point, Lucius and Marguerite had had several trysts and their significant others were none the wiser. Each encounter Marguerite had tucked away in the back of her mind, never to be forgotten. She would never let anyone know just how deep her feelings for Lucius ran. That was a secret she would keep to herself until her dying day. Of course, Lucius knew of her attraction to him. That much was evident, and she knew the feeling was mutual. Their relationship wouldn't have lasted two solid years without there being some sort of attraction between the two.

Even if Lucius did say any meetings between them were under a completely different guise.

There was one distinct difference between Marguerite and Narcissa, other than their looks and the last name. Marguerite had always been able to see the look behind his eyes. Lucius had always (and still did) prided himself on his ability to mask his emotions. Even on the day of his wife's funeral, his face retained its cold, calculating appearance. Yet, every time Marguerite cast a glance in his direction, she could see the pain in his eyes. Pain that stemmed not only from his wife's death, but from the guilt he faced as a result of Narcissa's death... and his little bit on the side.

It didn't matter that, for the past two years (or even longer for all Marguerite knew) Lucius and Narcissa were practically estranged. The only thing the two shared, other than the same surname, was the Manor and their two sons. Other than that, they lived two complete and separate lives.

Marguerite sighed to herself as she lay back down on the bed. Seeing the pain in Lucius's eyes was almost more than she could bear. If only he knew... knew the entire truth. A second sigh left her lips as she closed her eyes. But if she told him, it would probably kill him.

***

A second memory faded before her eyes, this time of Narcissa. It was always amazing the different types of conversations that popped up late at night in a girls' dormitory. Usually, it was Marguerite who was talking about her latest tryst, or how she managed to see a new guy without Sirius finding out. It was all a game with Marguerite.

But, that night, Narcissa had been lost in her own world. Her eyes staring straight ahead as she rested her chin upon her knees. Marguerite stopped talking and looked over at her friend. There were times that it was hard to look upon the other girl... especially when Narcissa had no idea just what happened behind closed doors. Never knew just how well she knew Lucius.

"Is something on your mind, Cissa?" Marguerite asked softly, running a hand through her hair.

"It's just..." the blonde began with a sigh, "sometimes I wonder about Lucius... and why we're both being forced into this. I know he has feelings for me, but there are times I wonder if he's really happy."

Marguerite bit her tongue to keep from saying what popped into her head immediately. Instead, she chose a different tactic, saying what Narcissa would want to hear.

"He does have feelings for you," Marguerite said softly, feeling a soft tug at her own heart. Still, she had to push her own thoughts away. For, Marguerite knew what she really wanted was impossible to achieve. "He just isn't always one to show his true feelings..."

Narcissa sighed again, staring out the window of their dormitory. "All I want is for him to be happy. I have a feeling he is, but at the same time he wants more... and I don't think I'm the one to give that to him." A far-away look passed over Narcissa's face. "I wouldn't mind if he took a mistress... as long as she made him happy. I'd prefer if it was someone I knew... but still... if it made him happy..."

Marguerite didn't have a response to that. She fell silent as the full weight of her friend's words set in. Marguerite looked at Narcissa, who at this point had laid down, probably to get some rest. Sleep, however was the farthest thing from Marguerite's mind. She stared at Narcissa for a while, her mind in a whirl.

'Just how much do you know, Narcissa... and what are you trying to tell me...?'

The memory finally faded from sight, leaving Marguerite alone in her bed chamber with no company but her thoughts. She needed to talk to Lucius. To help him find his peace.

To tell him everything.