Fire and Folly

Fire and Folly

It has begun again, thought Narcissa Malfoy.

She sat at the desk in her study, her gold quill in its ink pot, the stem resting lightly against her fingertips. Before her, an empty sheet of parchment sat, waiting to be filled with correspondence. An opened letter sat at her elbow, its pages covered with writing.

Yet, none of these things she looked at. Instead, her grey eyes stared out into space, at the air before her.

I must focus, she thought. I have work to do, correspondence to return. Yet, her pale hand did not move from where it rested upon the quill.

She rose suddenly, pushing back her chair as she began to pace around the plush office. Her hands crossed over one another, yet her hands tensed beneath opposite arms. Eyes rose to the clock on the wall, and her pace increased with her heartbeat. One hand, labeled 'Draco' in gold script, pointed at the word 'Home'. The other, with her own name, pointed at also at 'Home'. The third, belonging to Lucius, sat at the word 'Unknown'.

He's late, she thought. This is not like him. He said that he'd be at home at seven, to have roast beef for dinner, that he'd likely miss lunch and tea and would be rather hungry...

"Missus?" A house elf's voice squeaked. "Shall Knicker put away the dinner, Missus?"

Narcissa's head turned to the creature, and she stopped her pacing as if riveted suddenly to the floor. "Keep it warm," she snapped. "He will be home soon."

The elf let out a whine, but vanished quickly.

She looked at the watch upon her wrist. Nine o' clock now, two hours late... She began to wring her hands. Lucius, you know well that I do not like it when you are late from your own Death Eater gatherings. You swore to me that you would always send word. Always...

Suddenly, the sound of the front door banging open caused her heart to leap into her throat. Narcissa heard the cry of a house elf, then the high-squeaks of another, followed by another high-pitched squeal. She ran to the door of the study, but stopped there, placing a hand on the door jam. She composed herself, taking a deep breath, then standing upright as she heard a tattoo of footsteps on the stairs. I cannot see him if I am half-hysterical, she thought. If he's in a horrible mood, we'll only lash out at one another.

Narcissa glided through the doorway and into the room diagonal to it. Her husband stood in the center of his own study, as still as if he were petrified. A white mask rested in one of his gloved hands, and his cane - that which he was never without - occupied the other.

"Lucius, what happened?" she said softly.

He did not answer, but merely gazed at her with blank grey eyes. Then, he swept across the room to a shelf, pulling out a book with two fingers outstretched. The top portion of the shelf fell forward, revealing a secret compartment. Here, he put the mask, removed the plain cloak he wore, and shoved it in. Pushing the book back into its former position, the compartment vanished.

"You must be half-starved," Narcissa said finally, watching all of these motions, each precise, almost as if they were a military drill. "Let's have dinner."

"I'm not hungry," Lucius replied in a cold voice. "Why don't you go ahead, my dear?"

She suddenly felt every hair on the back of her neck stand on end at the condesention in his tones. "I'd rather not. I've been worried sick about you, but that's no matter now. You're home."Â

"I would like to be alone for awhile." Lucius turned away from her, starting toward the window his study. "If you please, my dear."

"Oh, no you don't." Her feet began to move before she realized that she headed toward him. "You and I keep no secrets from each other, Lucius."

"Leave." Lucius's voice became as steel. "Immediately, Narcissa."

"Not until you tell me what has happened to you," she replied. She reached his desk, and began to reach for his arm.

And then, before she could draw away, he whipped around, grabbing her with both hands. Grey eyes showed no emotion, and he spoke between clenched teeth. "I asked you to leave, and you will do so, now."

Narcissa gasped, but only for a moment before the pain of his hands bruising her arms reeled her into reality. She pushed him away with both hands. "You will not tell me what to do!" She shouted, as Lucius staggered back from the sheer surprise of her defense. "You will never touch me in that way again." Her voice turned breathy, gasping in surprise, in anger, in hurt. "Never, Lucius. Is that quite clear?"

Then, in one horrifying moment, she could no longer grab control of herself. She felt tears sear her eyes  and spill over onto her alabaster cheeks. Narcissa turned, and began to leave the room, a hand to her face, trying to stop tears that refused to abate.

Gloved hands upon her shoulders stopped her retreat, but these were gentle yet firm - a touch that she knew, a touch that she adored. She turned, and her husband pulled her into his arms. She nestled her head into the place between his chin and shoulder and began to weep.

"I was so worried," Narcissa sobbed. "I thought He had killed you."

"No," Lucius replied, one of his hands rubbing her back. He sighed softly. "He cast a Cruciatus Curse on me, but..."

Narcissa gasped, pulling back. "Oh, my dearest," she whispered, her hands now on his arms, the touch gentle. "Are you alright?"

"Of course," he answered softly.

She shook her head. "Don't be strong. Tell me if it hurts."

"I just feel a bit weak. Perhaps a bit of a headache," Lucius admitted.

She took his hand in hers and led him to the red leather couch. They sat next to one another, and she had the sudden urge then to touch him as much as she could manage, caressing his cheek, his gloved hands, his arms - hidden under layers of clothing. "Does this hurt? Any of this?" she murmured.

"You could not hurt me, Narcissa," Lucius replied softly, watching every movement of her hands. "I'm well. I promise you." He took both of her hands in his and drew them to his lips, kissing them softly. "Where is Draco?"

"Camping with Gregory and Vincent. You gave him permission, remember?" Narcissa inquired.

"Ah, yes." The two pairs of hands fell to his lap, but he remained holding onto hers. "They're on the property, are they not?"

She nodded. "I saw them earlier on their brooms, but I believe they're in the patch of trees on the northern side. A house elf brought them roast beef sandwiches and crisps and cookies a few hours ago, and the platter came back empty."

"Good." Lucius stared down at her hands, and began to softly caress her fingertips.Â

Narcissa smiled a bit to herself as she removed her hands from his grasp, moving them instead to his right wrist. She tugged gently at the glove, rolling it off of his pale hand, then repeated the process with the other, all in silence. She tucked the gloves into one another and set them on the end table, then sighed as she resigned her hands back into his, now enjoying the warmth of skin against skin.

"Hm," Lucius said, his own grin tugging at the corner of his lips. He said nothing more for a moment. The fire in the study's fireplace crackled, the heat growing throughout the room, and finally he spoke. "Master is most...displeased with the lot of us. Not a man at the circle escaped punishment. Many of them worse than I."

"I'm sorry," Narcissa said at last, gazing up at her husband's face. "Is there anything you can do?"

"Besides killing Potter?" Lucius's voice gained warmth, despite the bloodthirstiness of his words. "No. He's even lost sight of the torture of Muggles. It does not interest Him anymore."

"That is a shame." Narcissa tilted her head a bit. "Perhaps you can convince Him of otherwise? At least some spilled blood to sate his palate?"

"Perhaps," Lucius replied. "I will attempt to do so. In the meantime, we should occupy ourselves with other things." He lowered his voice, turning it smooth. Silky. "I have made my decision regarding our future."

"And?" Narcissa adjusted her position, her long legs tucked beneath her body. Her fingertips caressed his curled palms.

"I will place my announcement of my bid for Minister for Magic on Monday morning." Lucius's visage turned a bit mischievous.

Narcissa laughed. "Well, it took you long enough to decide!" She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around her husband's neck, her face close to his.

"Yes, well, one should not be too hasty about these things," Lucius said. "If you are willing, I could use your aid in writing a press release."

"My aid?" She chuckled lightly. "I write them practically every day, between all of my pet projects and organizations." She felt his arms encircle his waist, and then their bodies pressed together, separated only by layers of sable, silk, and wool. "Let me write your press release. You will write a statement for the inevitable interviews that will then be required of you."

"As you wish, my dear." Lucius bent his head toward hers. "Then again, you were always the finer writer of the two of us."Â

"Do not forget that, Lucius," she purred. "You might become Minister for Magic, but you and I are a team."

"How could I forget?" Lucius replied, and his lips brushed hers. "If I did, then you would only remind me," he whispered. Then, their lips met again, and there they stayed for several long moments.

"You will never be in this alone," Narcissa said quietly, her lips trailing to his chin. Her hands moved to his shoulder, and she made an impatient noise. "You wear far too much clothing."

"Do you complain about the way in which the gift is wrapped?" Lucius said.

"I cannot feel you." Her hands slipped beneath his frock coat, and she groaned softly as they met with crisp sable, palms against the expensive fabric. "That's all I want right now."

"You seem awfully feisty for a mere game of touch and feel," he replied, gentle sarcasm in his voice. "Is that really all you want?"Â

"Yes." Grey met grey as Narcissa again met his gaze. "I thought I had lost you."

"You have not," Lucius replied. "I am not sure, my dear, that I wish to give you what you truly request."

"And what might that be?" Frustrated palms ran over the fabric of his waistcoat.

Lucius laughed lightly, kissing her softly as he did so. "I am very tired. You've put me in a better mood. I must thank you for that. But I fear that exhaustion would only leave me asleep and you quite unsatisfied were I to remove a stitch more of clothing."

"If I wanted to make love to you, Lucius, I would ask you. Or certainly give you a profound hint." Narcissa placed a hand on his breastbone, finding his heartbeat. "I only want to feel you."

At last, he nodded silently. Pulling back, he removed his boots, then slid out of his wool frock coat, placing boots out of the way and coat upon the table on which his gloves lay. He rested one leg upon the couch, the other upon the floor, and gestured Narcissa to come closer. She moved between his legs, arms straddling his body for a moment before she lowered herself completely onto him, most of her body remaining lower than his on the couch. She sighed peacefully, nestling her head into the hollow of his breastbone, his heartbeat soft in her ears.

"Better?" Lucius murmured, stroking her short hair lightly.

"Yes," she replied. "But not perfect."

After a moment, she raised her head, and her left hand began to unbutton the waistcoat, finally unclasping the brooch that sat at his throat. Leaning over, she added the brooch to the items of his discarded clothing, then unbuttoned the silk shirt one by one, but paused at the place where shirt was tucked into trousers. She slipped her hand inside, at last her palm finding what it wanted. Lucius sighed, and she smiled to herself, returning her head to his breastbone.

"Now," she whispered. "Perfect."

Silence, save for the crackling of the fire, filled the room. Narcissa began to drift off to sleep, the soft beating of Lucius's heart and his breathing filling her ears with a serene rhythm. She felt him relax beneath her, and wondered for a moment if he had fallen asleep himself. So, she was a bit startled when, after an eternity, he spoke.

"My plans have not changed," Lucius said.

"What are those, dear?" Narcissa mumbled. Her hand stroked his bare chest for a moment, then rested on his ribs.

Lucius put his arms around her, and moved her body up his, until her cheek rested against his. Her hand, however remained in place. "To take the world by storm, but not do it alone. I knew you would be with me, but I never realized to what extent."

"There is no 'I'." Narcissa raised her head, gazing at him. "We will rule together. As partners. You certainly did not marry me believing that I was to be some sort of trophy wife, did you?"

"Of course not," he replied. "Would I have married a woman I did not consider an equal?"

She smiled. "That's what I thought." She kissed him tenderly, then let her fingers outline his lips. "You will go Monday and put in your bid. And you will immediately begin a tour of Britain. We will work out your platform to the letter - every detail. You will never slip from it because it will be yours - memorized - every angle. We will withdraw some money from Gringotts for your campaign, and we will stick to the budget. Tuesday, we'll even bring in the tailor for  some new clothes. Not that there's anything wrong with your image, but you will need impeccable bearing - that of a man that could be nothing less than Minister for Magic."

Lucius stared back at her. "It sounds as though you are bidding to be my campaign manager."

"I believe I have been that very thing since the day I married you," Narcissa answered with a smirk. "Giving it a different title makes no difference."Â

"Touché," said Lucius. "Let it be so, then."

"Yes." Narcissa placed her head on Lucius's shoulder. "You will run for Minister for Magic. You will win." She tilted her head to sweep her lips against his earlobe. "Britain will answer your every call. No Muggleborn in this nation will be able to pollute the land with their filth, and your Master will be proud of you. He will never again need to look upon you in shame!"

Again, silence fell between them. Narcissa felt Lucius relax beneath her again, and after a passage of time, she heard his breathing grow quiet and deep. Raising her head slightly, she saw that he had fallen asleep, a peaceful expression upon his face. She smiled to herself, and, again nestling into her husband, she resigned herself to his warmth and the peace radiating from their united souls.