The Course of Empire

Part Three: The Consummation of Empire

***

Years of peace settled the Malfoys into complacency.

Their combined wealth allowed them to do whatever they wished whenever they desired, and without the fear of imprisonment for association with a rival politician such as the Dark Lord, Lucius grew bored easily. The result was him reverting back to teenage mischief, playing with the relics of the war they had lost thanks to an infant and performing Dark Arts rituals.

They snubbed their noses at the sad, filthy excuses for wizardkind that were seen milling around Diagon Alley around the start of the school term, rooting through sale bins and ordering the cheapest dishes on the menus of any given establishment. The Weasley family, in particular, grated on Lucius's nerves. They were a prime example of everything he had believed, of every thing wrong with society that had lead him to think the Dark Lord had the right idea about things.

In a world where halfbloods and Mudbloods dressed themselves in finery and put gems around their necks, a pureblood family dressed in secondhand rags. Mudbloods worked high-ranking jobs while purebloods languished in poverty. Of course, Lucius thought that the fact they bred like rabbits had something to do with their poor financial state, but that did not erase their pure bloodlines.

Their failure proved everything he believed was true, and he scorned them for it.

When the war broke out again, Lucius seemed to relish it. Narcissa rather thought he fancied himself twenty years old again, and a freedom fighter for a noble cause. She had not missed the action of those days as much as he had. She had never been quite as involved, after all, and then she'd had a child to worry about. She still did, though with every day, Draco wanted her to worry less.

She might have been disillusioned, but she couldn't shatter Lucius' confidence. She was willing to throw herself to the wolves on his account, and so she did everything she could to ensure that what he did succeeded.

So she went to her parties, dressed in her finery and glimmering with priceless jewels. She lived up to her name through appearances and quiet power. She used the advantages her birth had given to her, but somehow they weren't enough. Somehow, everything that she and Lucius were doing crumbled. The ages past and people long dead were irrelevant, the new world whispered to her. The ways of their ancestors was nothing but wispy memory, and they had no reason to try to revive them. To try and keep things the way they had been.

Resistance proved to be utterly and completely futile. The ways of the past were dead, and Narcissa had no place in the new world that had emerged from their ashes.

***

The Malfoy fortune had been seized by the Ministry of Magic soon after the end of the War.

Though the new leaders of magical Britain thought that a Death Eater's proper place was Azkaban, there simply had not been the resources in the ravaged economic system to support such a venture. The Dementors, who had sided with the Dark Lord, had been destroyed by powerful light magic, and with the sudden drop in the workforce due to casualties, Azkaban became a place to house only those who were an active threat.

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had been deemed fit for magic reduction and seizure of assets. Had Lucius been sent to Azkaban permanently, his property would have transferred to his wife. Had she been sent as well, their son would have received his rightful inheritance.

By deeming the Malfoys non-threatening, the Ministry had come into a sizeable fortune.

Their wands had been taken in those first confusing days after the Dark Lord fell for the second time. Within weeks, while they were still in holding cells, their property and assets were pillaged. By the time they were issued wands that would perform only the most rudimentary of spells and were charmed to self-destruct if anything forbidden was cast, their vaults in Gringotts had been emptied, and they were told that they were lucky that they would get to keep their house and its grounds, simply because the Ministry could not think of a use for them since they had gained a reputation for being saturated in dark magic.

After being Portkeyed into their home, they barely recognized it. Valuable antiques and magical artifacts were missing. Several carpets, centuries old and handmade by Persian wizards and witches, charmed to give luck and success and interwoven with powerful magic, were missing. Narcissa was appalled to find that all her silk unmentionables were curiously absent from her bureau.

But, they should be grateful to be allowed to keep their home. They should be glad they weren't sent to Azkaban for fighting on the wrong side of the war. They should thank God and Merlin and Harry Potter alike for the mere fact they still lived.

***

There was a child staring at her with unabashed curiosity. Narcissa resisted the childish urge to stick her tongue out at it as the mother of the brat jerked it away, the child still staring in awe at her as it hurried alongside its mother.

Narcissa glanced at Lucius, but he didn't appear to have noticed the child, nor the other dozen people who were also staring. His head was high and he looked as imperious as ever.

Lucius' brand had faded, but it was as though they had both gained new brands, marking them as something wrong. Something monstrous.

A shop boy dropped an armful of books as they entered Flourish and Blotts, but Narcissa did not allow her peaceful demeanor to falter. She browsed the charm section, idly tracing her fingers along the gold-printed spines of a series of books on the various ways various objects could dance when she heard the something worse than the staring. Loud, careless whispers.

"Can you believe they have the gall to be seen in public?"

"It's a shame they weren't put in Azkaban like they deserve."

"-right hand man, don't you know, and her sister was the one who--"

"-can't believe that sort are allowed in shops as though they were regular citizens--"

"Murderers and thieves, the whole lot of 'em..."

"What a disgrace to the name of--"

Narcissa turned slowly, trying to block the sound out of her head. Someone grabbed her arm, and she jumped before realizing it was Lucius, leading her towards the exit, sneering at the other patrons of the shop.

"Where are we going?" she asked, keeping up with Lucius' long strides through Diagon Alley.

"Leaky Cauldron," he replied shortly. Narcissa knew that the words had stung him as much as she. How could those people have thought that they were the disgraces? Everything they had done had been to preserve the good name of wizardkind, to uphold honor and integrity in the broken society that surrounded them.

Why were they the monsters?

When they stepped inside the Leaky Cauldron, an uncomfortable silence fell. Lucius strode towards the bar, where the barkeep was wiping the counter while looking apprehensive.

Narcissa flitted behind her husband, discomforted by the angry, accusing glares of the people around the pub.

Lucius' path towards the barkeep was interrupted by a tall, redheaded man. "They don't serve your sort here, Malfoy."

"Stand aside, Weasley," Lucius sneered. "Where I dine doesn't involve you in the least."

"Wizarding Statute Number 5623 clearly states that former convicts are not allowed on the premises of businesses whose owners ban such people from entering," Weasley said.

"I see no such ban," Lucius said coldly.

Weasley flicked his wand, and a sign appeared on the wall stating that Death Eaters were not welcome.

Lucius stepped forward, and Narcissa knew she had to do something to stop some sort of madness from occurring. "Lucius, dear," she said, stepping alongside him and taking his arm. "I've lost my appetite."

Lucius looked at her, and she was surprised by how angry he appeared. She began to walk gracefully towards the exit, and Lucius wisely chose to accompany her.

"Why did you give in?" he hissed when they were safely in the street.

"They aren't worth it, dear. They're filth, and the only way they can live with themselves is to punish people who think differently than they," Narcissa said. "I don't want to lose you because you couldn't hold your temper around a Gryffindor."

They began a long, disheartened journey home. Narcissa privately swore she wouldn't make herself a target for humiliation like that ever again.

***

One day Narcissa received a letter from Innogen Parkinson filled with suspicious gaps in a body wrought with incomplete ideas. She eyed the blank spaces of parchment before addressing her husband.

"Darling," she said. "I think the Ministry edited the directions for Innogen's headache potion."

"Why would they do that? It doesn't even work properly when she makes it," Lucius replied, folding his newspaper.

"I'm not entirely sure," Narcissa responded, then added cattily, "Perhaps this has something to do with the war we just lost?"

"It's not as though there are any secrets left," Lucius said evenly. "Let them read our post. Do write something flattering about me, dear. I want the Aurors on our case to not be able to look me in the eye."

Narcissa laughed nervously.

***

"They've freed the house-elves," Lucius said.

"They've what?" Narcissa asked, an unfamiliar shrillness lacing her voice. "How can they free the house-elves? They're born for servitude!"

"Apparently, the 'enforced slavery' of house-elves is inhumane." Lucius sounded inexplicably amused.

"Well, we just won't," Narcissa said stubbornly. "We only have three, and they've been with us forever. They won't want to be free."

"Oh, there's more," Lucius said.

"What, hardened criminals such as us aren't allowed servants now, even if they want to serve us?"

"Close," Lucius said, grinning. "They've created a house-elf colony."

"A what?"

"You heard me. Freetopia, they've named it. Apparently, all house-elves must be relinquished so they can live there, free from bondage."

"That's just silly!" Narcissa said, bewildered. "What will house-elves do without...houses?"

Lucius shook his head.

"Oh, Draco is going to be so sad when he hears Mammy has been sent to Freetopia," Narcissa fretted. "She's been with me since I was a child, you know, and she always cared for Draco as though he were her own." A terrible thought occurred to her. "Who will do the cooking and cleaning once they've been taken? You know what an unaccountably close eye the Ministry keeps on us these days, of course they're going to personally escort our house-elves to that preposterous colony."

"According to this article, Muggles hire other Muggles to serve them," Lucius said.

"That's obscene!" Narcissa said, shocked. "Besides, we can't afford to pay a witch to do all those things."

"Don't you see? Who needs money now?" Lucius asked.

What Lucius was hinting at dawned on Narcissa with sickening clarity. "They've freed the house-elves and shipped them away so they could hire people like us to serve them?"

"Can you think of any other logical reason for it?"

Narcissa's hand politely drifted over her gaping mouth as she thought it over. "I would sooner starve than wait on Mudbloods."

"Maybe we'll get to," Lucius offered. "Prices are sky high on food."

"They have? The house-elves hadn't mentioned anything," Narcissa said, looking guiltily at her half-eaten breakfast.

"I've been keeping an eye on things," Lucius said. He paused, and then spoke again reluctantly. "I'm not sure we're going to make it, Narcissa."

"What do you mean?" she asked. "We'll do fine. We always have."

"We don't have any assets," Lucius said. "We have exactly two Galleons to our name. There is nothing in the Manor that would bring in any amount of money, and we can't borrow against our property thanks to a law passed a few months ago. Narcissa, we have nothing."

Narcissa looked around the grand room they sat in, and at the gouged, ruined table where they took their meals. "I have some jewelry left. It's not much, just some gold earrings and a brooch that belonged to my great-grandmother."

"Do you really think we'd be able to sell it? The Ministry left us nothing. The only reason we still have two Galleons is I took a few of the books from the library to Borgin and Burkes as soon as we were released."

"They've shut down Borgin and Burkes, haven't they?" Narcissa asked, knowing the answer.

"Every shop in Knockturn Alley, regardless of legality, has been shut down and condemned."

Narcissa took a deep breath then said, "Then we have no choice. I'll try to find work."

Lucius raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"Well, you can't be hired," she said. "Not with your criminal record. But I was just accused of aiding and abetting. Surely someplace would hire me."

"Narcissa, I don't want you to humiliate yourself like that," Lucius said.

"Humiliate myself?" she snapped. "I rather think starving to death would be more humiliating than working."

"That's not what I meant and you know it," her husband said. "You're a Malfoy, and loathe as I am to admit it, the name no longer commands respect. We're the villains, dear. The Dark Lord is conveniently dead, and we are the ones left to blame the horrors of the war on. No one is going to hire you, no one will give us a chance for redemption and begging will only give them something to laugh about over dinner."

"But what will we do?" Narcissa asked in a small voice.

"Whatever we have to," Lucius said. "We'll survive. We'll make them regret this one day."

"How can you be so sure?" Narcissa asked.

"Look around you!" Lucius looked more animated than he had since the Dark Lord had been decimated by a cocky teenager. "Our ancestors built this out of nothing. Our ancestors provided us with the best of everything by being the best at everything. We are of the same mold as they were, and we will make it through this."

"But now isn't like before when we got off without punishment and fortune intact, Lucius. There is no second chance for us. We threw everything in with the Dark Lord, knowing that he wouldn't fail us twice, and look what happened! We're a laughingstock! I just can't bear it anymore," Narcissa said.

"They still fear us," Lucius said. "They're trying to hard to break our power long after we thought we had lost it all. For them to continue to make these foolish laws, for them to dedicate so much manpower to watching us in today's poor economy - we have to hold some sort of power."

"But we don't know what that power is," Narcissa said.

"Of course we do. I told you, we're the villains. Our power is ruthlessness, amorality and greed. We are a threat to their utopia by simply proving people are not inherently good." Lucius' smile was demonic, and Narcissa knew her reciprocal smile was a knowing one.

***

She had excelled at Herbology at Hogwarts, even though she had despised the feel of dirt under her fingernails. Now, she looked through the gardens at the Manor with a fresh eye, looking for things she could salvage or, ideally, eat.

The rare plants had all been removed, likely sold for the Ministry's profit. The spots where plants of a more dubious nature had stood were now merely singe marks. Delicate tropical plants had been trampled, and it looked as though Thestrals had been harnessed in other areas.

She was thrilled to notice that the Mandrakes had not been uprooted. If they were still viable, she could attempt a powerful restorative draught that, possibly, could revive some of the plants that remained.

She looked around her garden, which once had existed only to showcase their wealth and provide aesthetic value to their home, and saw its possibilities. They could survive off what this land could provide them - magic, luck and work could keep them from begging like the fallen, destitute remains of a glamorous society that they were.

She would make this garden into something substantive. She had all the time in the world to devote to it.

***

When the Parkinsons invited them over for tea, Narcissa's first impulse was to turn down the invitation. She hated the thought of being seen in her outdated robes with her nails broken from gardening, but the thought of having interaction with her old friends again was too tempting a thought to refuse.

Lucius was enthusiastic about getting to see other people in the same sort of situation as they were, and Narcissa quietly thought that he simply missed having people to sneer at and manipulate.

She dressed in her nicest robes - they were only a bit faded and outdated - and carefully styled her hair. Appearances were everything in these lawless days. Anyone who appeared to be wealthy, appeared affluent was considered thus. Anyone who looked noble was noble. It was a disgusting system to those who had educated themselves in the nuances of society, to those who had worked hard and formed their lives on the basic principles of the society that was moldering in history books, but the new order of wealth and prosperity had decided it was the way things ought to be.

Traveling to the Parkinson's home while staying within the Ministry's strict rules for travel was a tiresome experience, and by the time they arrived at the Parkinson's doorstep, Lucius had lost his enthusiasm to see other people, whereas Narcissa was simply just exhausted.

"Narcissa! Lucius!" cried Innogen, smiling prettily as she greeted them. Narcissa managed to not recoil at the sight of a missing tooth in Innogen's formerly flawless smile.

"Innogen, it's lovely to see you," Narcissa said graciously, hiding all the revulsion she felt as she stepped across the threshold and saw how filthy the house they were dining in was. The walls looked as though they had been scorched, and the rail on the staircase was broken and burned.

"Come, come," Innogen said eagerly. As she turned to lead the way, Narcissa couldn't help but notice that her hair was matted and dirty, a far cry from the prissy Innogen who had once refused to set foot outside her dorm with a hair out of place.

Lucius caught her eye, and shook his head. It was disconcerting, seeing someone who had once been such a part of her life so obviously broken.

They entered the sitting room, where Edna Goyle sat on a sofa with Horace Bulstrode.

"Oh, goody, the Malfoys have arrived!" Edna chortled.

Narcissa wasn't quite sure what the proper response to that pronouncement was, as no one had ever said such a thing in her presence before. Lucius raised an eyebrow and made himself comfortable in the armchair. Narcissa sat on the other sofa next to Innogen, wondering where everyone else was.

"Are we the last to arrive?" she asked finally.

"Yes," Innogen replied. "I was so terribly delighted that you decided to come. I'd heard you were doing poorly, and had hoped you hadn't gotten depressed."

"Simply dreadful, what those people are doing," Edna said. "My poor boy's working in a factory, you know. They manufacture clocks."

"How dreadful," Narcissa said.

"But at least he made a good marriage," Edna continued, giving Horace an admiring look. "Millicent's a lovely girl."

"Always has been," Horace replied dimly.

Narcissa remembered her childhood, listening to the adults discussing politics and literature, planning to change the laws they disagreed with and forcing others to succumb to their wishes, and felt a horrible pit in her stomach. This was what was left of the beautiful world of her childhood - a hag, a simpering woman and a blubbering idiot. Were she and Lucius the only proud, true people left in this horrid, broken world?

"What happened to your home?" Narcissa asked bluntly, breaking into Edna's hopes and dreams of a grandchild soon.

"Excuse me?" Innogen asked.

"It's all burnt!" Narcissa said. "And everything is filthy."

"Well, we haven't any house-elves," Innogen said.

"Neither have we," Narcissa replied, "and yet somehow I don't look like a hag."

Lucius laid a warning hand on her forearm, but Narcissa would not be quelled. "What has happened to us? We used to be on top of the world, and now we're just... Skeletons of who we were born to be, dying in the broken shells of our youths!"

"Narcissa, we shan't have that sort of talk here," Horace said. "You'll upset the ladies."

"What ladies?" Narcissa snapped, standing. "You might have forgotten who you are, but I know who I am. I was born a Black. I am a Malfoy. The world should bow down to my wishes, not the other way around!"

"You're starting to sound like that mad sister of yours used to," Edna said disapprovingly.

"And you used to respect Bellatrix - I remember you telling me I ought to have more of her fire," Narcissa replied. "Maybe Bellatrix was right. Maybe going down in a blaze of glory was the answer, rather than rotting alive in purgatory!"

"I just wanted to have tea!" Innogen wailed. "Narcissa, you're ruining my day! Quit talking about the bloody war! It's over and we lost. The end."

"That isn't the end," Narcissa snapped. "Look at us! We're letting it be the end!"

"You used to be such a level-headed girl," Horace said. "Why do you let her run amuck like this, Lucius? A proper husband would stop this madness."

Lucius rose, looking around the room with contempt and hatred in his eyes. "Narcissa is hardly the mad one," he said coldly. "I'd say she's the only one here with a grasp on the situation." He turned to her. "Come, dear."

Narcissa took his proffered arm, and didn't look back. Friendship offered her nothing now. They alone were the sort of people she knew were important in this world - the strong ones.