A Metonymy of Desire

How To Disappear Completely

Narcissa Malfoy lay contentedly on a chaise, covered in embroidered red, Indian silk. Under her lower back were several pillows propping her up, one arm resting on the pillows and cradling a soft pink bundle against her breast. Her blue silk robes were open to the waist, more than was strictly necessary for feeding her baby, but she savored the feel of the cool spring breeze playing across her hot skin and feel of a tiny mouth suckling her.

When the mediwitch had placed baby Draco in her tired arms she hadn't felt like a mother. He was red and puffy, a fat and screaming thing. Instead of the rush of devotion her mother had assured her would come, she only felt disgusted - and so base. Her hair a stringy, sweat-laden mess, her face streaked with tears and her jaw aching from the screams - all for this tiny, ugly thing. She'd felt so empty then, as if the process had stolen some essential center from her, as if he had. Her baby. She looked down at the screaming boy, his mouth wide, his eyes screwed tightly shut in need. Wanting something from her. He looked like Lucius.

Draco opened his clear gray eyes, looked into her dark blue ones and stopped screaming. She'd screamed then, screamed at the mediwitch to take him away from and pushed the baby out of her arms to the startled, older woman. Lucius had come in then and shook her. She couldn't stop creaming and he didn't understand, didn't know how Draco had looked at her, like he wanted to devour her.

At some point the mediwitch had left with Draco and Lucius had drawn away the covers. He sat behind her, his arms wrapped around her rocking body. Narcissa still screamed. She remembered how her throat had burned but she hadn't been able to stop. And she'd looked up as the door opened and Severus had come in. That was good - she remembered how he had kneeled on the bed in front of her, his face expressionless, unlike Lucius and the witch, who'd looked shocked, sympathetic, horrified. He'd reached into his pocket and drew out a small vial, put his hand on her face and bid her drink, leaning forward and murmuring into her ear with his low, dark voice.

From the behind the closed glass doors Lucius' slow moans filtered out into the garden where she lay with her baby. Her beautiful son whom she hadn't been able to look at for two weeks after his birth. Severus had stayed with her during the days, sitting in the gardens with her (though under a parasol), taking tea with her, walking her to her bedroom at night. His expressionless face always focused on her, watching and cataloguing her every gesture, she knew. His eyes though, were gentle without the coldness of his face and body. He never held her but would occasionally touch her hand and look into her eyes with his slow burning black ones.

Lucius though, would try to hold her, as if trying to comfort her, but she knew that he only wanted to comfort himself. He mourned the loss of his affectionate, innocent, young wife, didn't understand why she couldn't, couldn't, look at or touch his son. His face was always too full of emotion, chaotic and eventually demanding, when he was longer satisfied with asking her why. He stared at her over dinner and his stare screamed at her until Narcissa herself started to scream. Severus would take her from the table and lead her up to her new bedroom, separate from Lucius' since she'd refused to sleep with him and sit in a heavy brocade chair while the house elves changed her for bed. When she was tucked he would sit beside her and lay a hand on her belly, covered by the thick, woven cover and stroke her to sleep. He was always gone in the morning.

She remembered how one day he had taken her arm and led her to the nursery. She hadn't wanted to go, afraid he would make her touch the baby, but he'd only led her to Draco's cradle and stood beside her staring down at the boy. After a few minutes he'd kissed her on the forehead and led her away. Each day after that, Severus would lead Narcissa to the nursery, until finally she could stand to touch him, then pick him up and finally breast feed him.

Lucius, having given up on the situation, spent his days away from his skittish wife, letting Severus take care of her. At the time, she had vaguely wondered at him allowing Severus to spend so much time with her, as always before he'd been so protective, snapping at any man that dared approach her. Then she's realised that Severus, who was her constant guardian during the daylight, spent his nights with Lucius. She hadn't minded because the few times that she saw Lucius, he seemed happier and so much calmer. He no longer stared at her in burning accusation; just let his eyes trail gently across her face.

Narcissa smiled down at her son as he finished suckling and drew his lips away from her breast. She pulled him up against her shoulder and patted his back until he let out a contented burp and smiled up at his mother. He was so perfect and she worried for the day when he would no longer need her milk and for the day when he would take his first steps away from her. She remembered how terrified she'd been the first time and Severus had stroked her hair and pushed open her robes, gently cupped a breast and led Draco's mouth to her nipple. At first he'd just brushed it against the baby's lips until a faint trickle of her milk covered Draco's mouth and he'd surged forward eagerly for her. Needing her milk, for his very life, Severus had said. As Lucius had not.

It had been wonderful: her baby, hers, drinking her milk, his little fist clutched against her breast. She remembered thinking that Draco was all hers; in a way that he would never be anyone else's not even Lucius'. She hadn't been able to tear her eyes from his pale, pink body, so tiny and fragile, in need of her protection. Severus had left them then, whispering one of his sarcastic comments as he closed the nursery doors behind him. His sarcasm had always been present, even when she despaired and tried to hurt herself, though gentled. Unlike Lucius he was unchanged by her rages and depressions, still secretly caring, still showing his love only in his eyes and sometimes his long, cool hands.

Severus opened the glass doors and came into the early sunshine that covered the garden and came over to Narcissa's chaise. His inky black hair was still damp and wet trails of it draped onto his bare chest, as he began to button up his dark green shirt. He sat down on the Indian silk, in the space left by the curve of her hip. Behind him, through the open doors she could see Lucius, still lying on the bed, just breathing.

It had been different between the four of them since one dinner, when Narcissa, unwilling to leave her baby, had brought Draco with her to the table. Lucius had been so pleased, had been about to get up from his seat and embrace her perhaps, until he caught a Severus' gaze and stayed seated. He'd only smiled at her, softly and with friendship. Severus had pulled out a chair for Narcissa and seated her, then gone around the table and taken Lucius' hand.

Narcissa remembered her husband glancing up at him in confusion, then to his wife. She'd only nodded at him and Severus hat taken the seat beside him and dinner had continued like this, with always the same understanding. Lucius had at first seemed uncertain about this new arrangement, so Narcissa had pretended not to notice how he occasionally leaned closer to the other man and sometimes stroked his hand under the table. Eventually he became comfortable, displaying his affection for the other man and slowly Narcissa had allowed her husband to touch her again. Little touches at first and under Severus' ever-present gaze, were now able to hug each other casually, like old friends.

Severus gave one of his rare smiles but she couldn't see his eyes as he looked down at Draco. His face settled back into its usual stoniness, his black eyes looked up into hers. "I'm leaving today."

"Oh?"

"I have an interview with Albus Dumbledore for the potions position." As always, without breaking their stare, his long thin fingers finished buttoning up his shirt and moved to tie his shoes.

"Will you stay for breakfast?"

"No. I must pick up some things from my flat." He brushed a hand across Draco's soft, pale hair and the baby smiled up at him. Severus caught her gaze again and took her hand in his cool one. He softly kissed it and let go. Narcissa let it drop to the red silk.

"Well, au revoir then."

Severus gave her another of his dearly hidden smiles but this time she could see his eyes and they seemed for once to hold more than his gentle support. They were hot, with some deep, unknown grief, perhaps. He ran a hand through his damp hair, shaking out the last of the clinging water. A drop landed on her breast but she didn't move to wipe it away. "Adieu, Narcissa." He apparated.

No Surprises

In her private garden, walled and guarded by a roof of blue roses, Narcissa lay on her treasured red chaise. Between the cherry slats covered in crawling roses, the warm spring light snuck through and lay down stripes of bright colour across the wild flora below. No birds made it through these narrow openings - the way was blocked by thousands of twisting vines and sharp thorns. If by chance any was brave enough to squeeze past, it would soon be stopped, not by the cut of the thorns but by the slowing of its heart, as the poison Narcissa had bred into her roses took affect. If the bird managed still to continue it would finally fall prey to Narcissa's wards, written onto the framework of cherry she had herself grown and flowing through her roses, in the form of her own blood.

Under the cherry and blue canopy though, it amused her to keep tiny pale blue and green songbirds and watch them try to escape to their fellows above. They soon learned not to fly to close though some always tried to break free, even after years of living as her prisoner. As a result, Narcissa's garden was also filled with the soft and constant mourning of near a hundred birds. It suited her to hear their avian desperation and longing turn eventually to surrender as she worked below.

Narcissa stretched, her arms arched above her head, enjoying the friction of raw black silk against embroidered red, as her kimono rubbed across the chaise beneath it. She sat up and slipped her pale feet into woven leather sandals. Though years ago it had been merely a decadent and colorful retreat, filled with the thick spice of exotic plants, her garden now was her workroom and though it was still her retreat, Narcissa no longer had the luxury of simply beautiful things. In it now grew some of the most toxic and exotic flora, most illegal, for creating poisons, potions and organic charms. Her wards were not just meant for the protection of her vanity, but repelled and if necessary halted all visitors other than herself. They had proven themselves against some of the ministry's best - the charms she'd laid in the glass doors had repelled every auror sent. Many of the other protections of Malfoy Manor had fallen to them, but Narcissa's always stood firm.

Who though, would expect vacant Narcissa capable of such strong magic; not even her husband and son knew of her protections. They simply assumed, misdirected by her charms, they'd never had the interest to enter the private garden. Draco, she reflected, was far too much like his father, both were arrogant beyond what wisdom would allow. He was a disappointment but a beloved one. Only two others knew Narcissa's strength as it suited her to appear no more than Lucius' devoted wife - neither were blood family.

She stood and stretched again, then picked up her basket of garden tools, set beside the chaise. As she walked to her wild and lush beds, her kimono adjusted itself perfectly. If any actually managed to break through her protections, they would be stopped short by the apparent disorder. Narcissa had learned long ago that plants flourished not when separated into distinct beds, but mixed together. It was also a convenient defense against any who had not done well on their herbology NEWT. Mixed together, even some of her more distinct and exotic specimens were hard to identify.

She knelt by a patch of silver heath, unmindful of the moist, dark earth staining the silk underneath her legs. She began to harvest the plant with precise and sure fingers, expert from years of repetition. Narcissa was universally respected for her gardening skills and Lucius, when he deigned to prepare his own potions, would often call on her produce. The contents of this particular garden were well known to trusted members of their inner circle, though most assumed she cultivated mandrake and other difficult specimens, only for her amusement.

Finished with the herb, she tied her harvest into small bundles and walked them over to her worktable. Later she would ready them for drying (silver heath, unlike many herbs, was more potent dried) and hang them on her rack. She had no fear of rains spoiling her work.

Inspired by the ceiling of Hogwarts, she had created a protective screen, running through the roses that blocked rain and detritus from falling through the gaps. Too she added a spell to keep the climate a warm constant. A similar effect though actually more pleasant than Hogwarts, though here the charms allowed the wind through. The very protections designed to stop random invaders though, allowed Narcissa's messenger birds, a mate pair of falcons, to fly through, as well as the few other birds she trusted.

A sharp knock startled her out of her near-mechanical movements and she looked to the cloudy glass doors that led to the bedroom that she and Lucius sometimes shared. No one had even approached the doors in years, her family having resigned themselves to waiting for her to come out. She was unworried though, she doubted that any but the most powerful witches and wizards would easily cross the threshold and those she knew probably would not give a polite knock.

She stripped off her gloves and drew a hand across her forehead, wiping away the thin sheen of sweat, acquired while harvesting. "Coming," she called and strode to the door without adjusting her hair, which had fallen from its customary coiffure, or her soil-dampened kimono. She paused before the door and checked that her wand was still tucked against her waist.

Narcissa opened the smoky French doors and smiled at her visitor. "I've been expecting you since Lucius hinted that you'd resumed your former occupation." Severus smiled back at her, though as always only with his eyes. Unable to resist, she reached forward and tucked his long, dark hair behind his ears. Without her constant reminders, what he called nagging, he had let it become greasy again.

He shook his head in annoyance, though a pleasant smirk played at the corner of his mouth. "He still does not trust you with the details?"

"If He has not seen fit to inform Lucius of my work for Him, then I see no reason to enlighten him." She, like her husband bore the Dark Mark, though Lucius seemingly assumed her duties consisted of holding dinner parties and afternoon teas. Narcissa stepped back and motioned for him to enter her garden, curious to see if he would test her wards. He merely nodded respectfully, waiting for her to truly invite him in. "Do come in Severus." He swept in, his black and deep green robes briefly caressing her own clothing as he passed her. Narcissa turned to him, drawing the doors shut behind her with the click of a thousand-galleon lock.

Narcissa seated herself on her chaise, kicking off her sandals and drawing her legs beneath her. She motioned for Severus to join her and he settled facing her, with one leg resting across the red silk, his hands resting on the heavy black silk of his overrobe. His dark green underrobe peeked out from beneath the embroidered black on black, relieving his monochromatic person from unremitting chiascuro. Narcissa folded her own hands in her lap and watched him inspect her garden. Each bloom and leaf, she was sure, was carefully evaluated and locked into some part of his memory. Finally he turned and gave her an approving nod. Years ago, Severus had suggested that this space, given to Narcissa by her indulgent husband, would be ideal for cultivating the dangerous flora, she now did. He had not recently had occasion to visit her here though.

"He has indeed requested that I resume my former duties and has again given me license to choose an assistant." Narcissa nodded in answer to his unvoiced request. Severus had never been one to ask for another's help, just as Narcissa had not. She fondly remembered a similar conversation, held years before Draco's birth. She had been surprised then that he had even noticed her ability, as now, she had been known only for her beauty and status as a scion of an ancient pure-blood family.

But Severus was always more perceptive than most men and his memory, as she'd learned in her long experience as his friend, was near flawless. Sitting on this same chaise, in the very same positions, he had mentioned his need for help with his brewing. He'd known, she thought, how she so desperately needed to free of the Manor and of Lucius.

"And where will we work this time; you have no flat or private laboratory." Severus had lived for years in a ridiculously small flat in London, kept only because of the adjoining potions laboratory, expertly shielded from curious Muggles. The two had spent many an afternoon and night distilling and infusing there - brewing sophisticated poisons and dangerous potions. It was delicate work that they'd always accomplished in comfortable silence, with perhaps an occasional touch of fingers over a cauldron.

At the time she'd often worried about Lucius' reaction to the time they spent together but though he'd objected to all of her other male friends, he'd accepted Severus without issue. Her husband, as Severus had taught her, was easy to manipulate if one knew him well. She smiled at her friend and smirked in return, seeming to have caught her thoughts.

"I thought, perhaps your sanctum would be appropriate, if you do not object to my constant invasion."

"Of course."

"What were you working on when I interrupted?"

"Harvesting silver heath." He raised an eyebrow and Narcissa explained that she was making a loyalty potion. "The House Elves have not been quite as satisfyingly humble as of late."

"Let me help you." Those words with that low, dark voice were all that Narcissa needed to accede, as she would not with any other. He could ask of her anything now; he was as always her guardian and only trusted friend.

"Oui, merci." She answered in French, as she had taught him when they were still students at Hogwarts - their secret rebellion from Lucius' control, she'd thought. She remembered how surprised she'd been, when she'd learned how very much Severus was not controlled by him. He'd then taught her so much about her husband that she'd never before seen. French remained their secret language, as Lucius never bothered to learn but it was now something they shared above him.

Severus stood and unfastened his robe, let it drape across the chaise. Clothed now in dark green, he extended a hand to her and helped her rise to her feet. Narcissa slipped back into her leather sandals and arms linked, they walked to another patch of silver heath, far from the first. Together they knelt in the loam, silently pruning her perfect plants. She would have to remember to key her wards to accept Severus' presence in the garde

Thinking About You

Draco, it seemed had discovered his sexuality and it was a bit early for his mother. Having returned from his first year at Hogwarts he was full of stories for Narcissa, being used to her as his confidante. He spoke about his housemates, classes and Harry Potter of course, reiterating much of what he had already sent her in weekly letters. She let him continue though, interested more in what he did not say overtly but with the tone of his young voice, the sometimes frantic movements of his hands - a quirk he had yet to master.

A name, often mentioned only peripherally wound its way through the majority of her son's tales. Draco was far more like Lucius than she had guessed. Probably he was unaware of it, thinking it only natural respect and affection but the slight blush that accompanied its mention and the occasionally caught breath told her his emotions. So like Lucius.

Narcissa sighed as Draco continued to speak, leaning forward over his teacup in excitement. They sat by a small round lacquered table with jade inlays in her study and delicate as it was, it was laid only with their plates and saucers - Dobby hovered nearby with a tray over-burdened by buttered scones and a heavy silver teapot. She frowned at her son and his excited hands, worried that he would spill on the priceless cherry. She could of course, simply cast a cleansing charm on it but Narcissa prided herself on never having to have her furniture magically repaired.

She had acquired the table and its two matching chairs with thin bright green cushions during a trip to Hong Kong, soon after her marriage to Lucius. As on many other voyages she had been accompanied by Severus. Searching through the multitude of apothecary shops in the vast magical part of the city, they'd stopped at a tiny antiques store specializing in stolen goods.

Severus had been fascinated by a tiny bull statue, so they'd gone in and while he was speaking with the equally tiny shopkeeper, Narcissa wandered the store, bored. She found the set in the corner sided by a bookcase lined with animal skulls and a rack of fur capes, covered in cobwebs.

She remembered flicking away the spiders that had claimed it and brushing her leather-gloved hand along it's smooth surface, enjoying how the newly discovered wood shined gently, and the swirling jade dragons undulated slowly beneath her fingertips. She'd bought it immediately, thinking of the study her husband had allocated to her and its heavy oak and gold leaf furnishings.

Shrunk and placed in Narcissa's purse their purchases secured, the two had left the shop arm in arm. Outside the shop though, Severus had stopped her with two fingers on the back of her hand and pulled something out of his pocket. He'd bid her close her eyes and she had feeling his hands about her neck.

She'd opened her eyes to a wry half-grin, framed by his inky black hair (as always falling over his face,) and a surprisingly light thin, iron and sapphire collar. It was unlike anything Lucius would ever give her, not being green and covered with the Malfoy crest or writhing snakes. He'd said only, "it was made for a wizard but I think you've the bones for it," and they'd continued on their search.

Narcissa finished her tea and placed the painted china on its saucer without a sound. She waved off Dobby when he moved to refill the cup and leaned back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap.

She regarded Draco beneath kohl-lined eyelids, a Muggle habit she'd picked up from her housemates at Hogwarts - she liked the effect though Lucius detested it, her face becoming another canvas for her to play upon. It amused her that over the years of their marriage, Lucius had lost the ability to tell her magic and Muggle makeup apart, much as he vociferously protested his hatred of it.

Draco fidgeted under her steady gaze, another habit he would eventually have to break, for Narcissa meant for her son to share her impassivity, rather than Lucius' arrogant posturing. She loved her family but regretted that by wearing their emotions so plainly, they were always open to skillful manipulation.

"And, truly Draco, how have you adjusted to having Severus as a professor and Head of House?" A faint blush coloured his pale high cheekbones. So like Lucius, though Draco was young and still very much his mother's. It seemed that the contest had now expanded to include Severus, a battle between three long friends for one young and spoiled boy. Though Severus, she was sure, was an unwilling participant, never having bothered with anyone that could not mount a sufficient challenge and Draco was still too young to do so. Narcissa thought this adequately proved as she watched son dance around the subject of his professor, expressing admiration but always stopping short of more.

She could not begrudge him his infatuation, though she did not understand it. Severus had long been her dearest friend and always the silent third partner in her marriage, but even when he was not too distracted to groom his troublesome hair, he did not attract her. Lucius though, drew her. He wasn't a pretty man, nor even conventionally handsome as his features were just a bit too sharply carved for that but he had the ethereal lightness of one with Veela heritage and powerful charm. She'd never discussed with Severus what attraction her husband held for him, though she knew him well, she'd declined to speculate.

Narcissa knew well though what drew Lucius inexorably to her friend, the very qualities that insured she would never share that attraction. He was a man completely internalized without need of others - dark, powerful and terrible - and though his deep voice often carried sensuality, he had the asexuality of a seasoned academician. She had once laughed with him, saying that having sexual thoughts about him was much like thinking thusly about Albus Dumbledore, or Him.

"He's an excellent house master, mother."

"Do you miss the relationship you've become accustomed to have with him?"

Draco gave his mother a wry look. "Sometimes I want to call him Uncle in class to see the Gryffindors react." Narcissa thought, looking at his smirk, that uncle was perhaps not what Draco wanted to call his head of house, though he was not about to admit it.

"I hope it won't make your adjustment too difficult, but Severus will be visiting us this summer as usual." Narcissa watched her son's reaction, utterly certain that her suspicions were correct.

Trying not to look to eager, Draco asked, "When will he be here, mother?"

"Severus, as always has not yet finalized his plans for the summer. He seems to be caught up with some research, though we can probably expect him in late July." Draco nodded happily. "Now, I believe that your father is expecting you at the stables."

"Thank you for tea mother. I'll see you at dinner?" Narcissa inclined her head slightly to her son as her rose from the table with admirable grace for an eleven year old. Dismissed, Draco nodded in return and quietly left her study, softly closing the heavy wood doors behind him. Narcissa stayed seated at the table as Dobby cleared away her cup and saucer.

"Does mistress need more from Dobby?" She waved a hand at the Elf and he quickly retreated from her annoyance. She very much disliked the house elves and their groveling. Narcissa had been raised in a house with human servants and her expectations were therefore much higher, which they perpetually failed to meet.

Alone in her study, Narcissa decided to indulge in a rare pleasure, so rose from her seat and walked the few steps to the mantle. Arranging her casual robes with a slight shift of her hips, she leaned against the black stonework, carved with Slytherin serpents, and reached for a small ivory box, adorning with swirls of brass. Opening it, she drew a slim, white cigarette from the violet interior and placed it between her lips. Narcissa replaced the box on the mantelpiece in precisely the location from which she'd taken it, briefly drawing a hand across it - a gift from Lucius.

He'd said, "If you're going to continue the habit, you will do so stylishly." She lit up with wave of her wand, drawn from her waist and a whispered word.

With her wrist at her shoulder and her elbow resting against an upturned hip, Narcissa let the spicy smoke swirl around her face. Of course she'd known that her son's development was an inexorable process but some part of her had wished, as she had the first time she'd looked on him as his mother, that he would remain always hers. It was sobering to realise that Draco was already taking such steps from her already - she had not been prepared.

Narcissa tapped her cigarette, letting the gray ash fall to the black stone near her violet-slippered feet. She wondered if she should end Draco's infatuation, as it could only be a difficulty once he realised how close the three of them were. Over the years, Narcissa, Lucius and Severus had settled into a comfortable relationship, one that had little room for a new member.

Draco, too much like his father, would push the delicate balance the three shared and test their easy allocation of each other; it was his nature.

She sighed and tucked a loose strand of her blonde hair behind her ear, taking a long drag of smoke. He was though, still unaware of his emotions and Narcissa decided she should let him develop as he might, no matter the later consequences - as his mother she owed him that at least, even if he should someday become her competitor.

She wondered if the contest was not after all over Draco, but as always over dark and aloof Severus with a new player joining the fray. He would, she knew, say that it was not a contest, but merely the natural struggle of three, now four, strong wills. Narcissa finished her cigarette and with a slight flip of her wrist, sent the remains into the fireplace.

She decided not to write to him about Draco's infatuation, he would, she was sure, discover it soon enough for himself; he was too much like Lucius in that respect.