Devotion

Narcissa woke to light hitting her eyelids. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes. Such a lovely dream last night... she smiled and stretched her legs, to feel them tangled in silk sheets. Groggily, she rolled over, into her husband’s back. Lucius... she smiled again, running her fingers along the red scratches that criss-crossed his skin. Not a dream, then, she happily mused, resisting the urge to giggle with delight.

She lay there for a few moments, running her fingers through the platinum-blonde hair spread across his pillow. She didn’t know what had gotten into him, but she decided she liked it, and quickly prayed that it would stay. She gently kissed the back of his head.

Lucius roused, and turned to give Narcissa a sleepy grin. She smiled back and then kissed him. Never been able to do that before...

Lucius made a noise and pulled away, his expression more akin to shock than anything else. Narcissa couldn’t help but grin at his disorientation. “And a good morning to you, darling,” she said, kissing him lightly again. But Lucius still looked confused, and he threw back the covers and practically jumped out of bed.

“Lucius?” Narcissa asked, “what’s wrong?”

“I... have to go to work,” Lucius answered, and began hurriedly dressing.

Narcissa frowned. “But, dear, it’s Saturday.”

“I know,” he snapped, angrily pulling on a shirt.

Narcissa sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Lucius, what’s wrong?” she asked again.

“I need to go,” was his only reply as he buttoned his trousers.

Narcissa stood and walked over to him. He was struggling with his ascot when she gently laid a hand on his shoulder. “Please stay,” she whispered into his neck. “Stay at home with your wife.”

“No,” he said quietly but with force.

Narcissa sighed and reached around him for the black silk ribbon on the dresser. “Well, how long do you expect to be gone?” she asked as she tied his hair back.

“I don’t know,” he answered shortly.

“What’s wrong, darling?” Narcissa rubbed his shoulders.

He shrugged her hands away. “Leave me be,” he growled as he pulled on his robes.

“All right,” Narcissa said, stepping away. “But come home soon. I’ll be waiting...” she finished with a smirk.

“Dammit, woman, I said be still!” Lucius yelled. He spun around with his hand raised and caught Narcissa soundly on the cheek.

Narcissa stumbled back and brought a hand up to cover the burning sting. She looked at Lucius in confusion and hurt, but his glare was unremorseful.

“You should not presume your attentions will be desired when I return, madam,” he said, pulling on his robes. Narcissa stared at him in shock, but he only pulled once more on the front of his robes, and whisked out of the doorway.

Narcissa numbly tried to sit down on the bed, but missed and sank with a dull thud onto the floor. Tell me that didn’t really just happen, she prayed, but the throbbing in her cheek was all too real.

Her clothes were in a pile near the foot of the bed. She pulled on her slip and padded down the hallway to Erinn’s room. She knocked on the door, hoping that Erinn hadn’t gone home with some wizard she met at the party. Or what if he stayed here, instead? Narcissa suddenly didn’t want Erinn to open the door at all, and turned to walk to her own room.

But the door did open, and Erinn stuck her head out and asked, “Cissa?” Narcissa hurried inside.

“Cissa, what’s wrong?” Erinn asked as she closed the door. Narcissa slowly turned to face her. Erinn’s bleary eyes were suddenly wide awake, and angry. She lunged for her wand on the bedside table, and was about to storm out of the room, but Narcissa’s voice stopped her.

“He’s gone, Rinn.”

Erinn turned back and saw the anguished look on Narcissa’s face. She set her wand down and walked over to hug her friend. “What happened?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Narcissa replied, and dissolved into tears.

“Shh, come here,” Erinn soothed, and led Narcissa to the bed. They both sat down and Narcissa cried into Erinn’s shoulder.

“I don’t understand,” Narcissa mumbled. “How could he... I’m so confused.”

“Deep breaths, Cissa,” Erinn gently rubbed her back. “Calm down before you try talking about it.” Narcissa nodded and sniffled into silence.

When she finally stopped, her whole face was as red as Lucius’ handprint on her cheek had been. “Here,” Erinn said, pulling a box of tissues off the nightstand and handing it to her.

Narcissa took a handful and wiped her eyes and nose. “Does it still hurt?” Erinn asked, tipping her friend’s chin up to look at her cheek.

“Not really,” Narcissa replied. “More than anything, I think it just surprised me.”

“How did it happen?”

Narcissa shook her head. “Lucius was so different last night. I don’t know why. But after the party, he was almost sweet.”

“Sweet as in...?” Erinn raised an eyebrow, and Narcissa blushed. Erinn gaped in astonishment. “Are you serious?” she nearly shrieked. Narcissa just nodded. “Well, eventually I will want all the details, of course. But what happened this morning?”

“Well,” Narcissa replied, “I suppose he was back to himself. He seemed shocked that I was there, jumped out of bed, and said something about needing to go to work.”

“That’s utter rubbish,” Erinn said dismissively. “You think he’d be able to come up with something better.”

“Well, I didn’t know what was going on, so I tried to talk him into staying, because I thought something had really changed him. It was like the first time...” Narcissa frowned, “and then he just exploded. I don’t think he really meant to hit me,” she said hopefully.

Erinn shook her head. “Don’t try defending him to me. He’s beyond redemption as far as I’m concerned. And don’t even defend him to yourself; he doesn’t deserve it.”

“But he’s my husband,” Narcissa said.

“Tell him that,” Erinn replied, gathering steam. Narcissa looked at her crossly. “I’m serious, Cissa, because it seems he needs reminding. You’ve been married for how long, fifteen years?”

“Sixteen,” Narcissa corrected. “Seventeen in February.”

Erinn nodded, “All right, the better part of twenty years, nearly half his life, and the only time he’s even come close to acting the way he should toward you was for a few hours last night.”

“I feel like a birthday present,” Narcissa said quietly. “He and Draco are so alike. They’ll give about one day’s attention, if that, to a new toy, and then promptly forget it exists.”

Erinn’s anger dissipated and she took her friend’s hand. “You’re not a new toy, Cissa.”

“But I feel like one.” Narcissa frowned and looked down at her hands. “I wonder if he treats all the other women like this.”

“Oi,” Erinn said, lifting Narcissa’s face again. “Don’t compare yourself to them. They’re nothing but harlots, and content to be so, for the attention of a man who isn’t worth the time it takes to please him. I’ve half a mind to say hang it all, change our names, and take you back to Italy with me.”

Narcissa looked alarmed. “I thought you were staying here?”

Erinn gave her a sideways grin. “To get myself, and you, away from the likes of Lucius Malfoy, I’d go to a worse place than Italy, let me tell you.”

Narcissa returned her smile, weakly. “I could never leave, though.”

“Your devotion to Lucius is admirable, Cissa, but completely uncalled-for,” Erinn said, crossing her arms.

“It’s not just Lucius,” Narcissa replied, “I can’t leave Draco, either.”

“All right, fine,” Erinn shrugged. “The least you can do is make sure you’re in this house as little as possible.”

Narcissa took a deep breath. “What do you propose?”

“You, my dear, need to get a job.”

“A job?” Narcissa asked incredulously. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.” Erinn smiled. “Fudge promised to find me something, and I’m sure with only a little nudging he’ll let me bring you in, too.”

“And just what kind of job is this going to be?” Narcissa asked.

“I don’t know yet.” Erinn continued to smile. “I’m expecting an owl about noon. In the meantime, I suggest you take a bath, eat some breakfast, everything will be all right.”

Narcissa nodded and let Erinn walk her back to her room, where there was already a house-elf waiting to help with her morning ablutions. Narcissa noted absently that she was rather ignoring the poor creature, as it ran her bath and laid out her towels and robe. She thanked it and dismissed it, not really wanting such attention.

She sank into the lavender-scented water and let the heat soak into her body, as she tried not to think about Lucius. But his face came to her mind and wouldn’t go away.

What had happened to him last night? He had said he wasn’t drunk, and Narcissa believed him, but what else could explain such odd behavior? The seeming change of heart at the party, the uncharacteristic tenderness afterwards, a side of Lucius she had never seen. And then suddenly back to his old self again this morning.

Narcissa didn’t know how long she just lay in the tub, trying to find some explanation for Lucius’ behavior, before she heard a soft knock on the door, and a timid voice informed her, “Brunch, ma’am.”

“Thank you,” Narcissa replied.

Her house-elf stepped past the door. “Shall Maddie help you dress, ma’am?”

“No, thank you,” she answered. “Would you please invite Miss Whateley to join me in my room?”

“Miss Whateley is already here, ma’am,” the house-elf said with a small bow.

“Oh, thank you,” Narcissa replied. “Please tell her I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

The house-elf nodded and closed the door. Narcissa plunged her head under the water and quickly washed her hair. She stepped out of the tub and wrapped herself in one of the oversized towels. The house-elf had laid her wand on the counter, so she used it to perform a drying charm on her hair, which she twisted into a loose bun and secured with a hat pin. She then dried the rest of herself with the plush towel, tied her bathrobe at the waist and stepped out of the bathroom to eat with Erinn.

Erinn was already sitting in one of the chairs at the small breakfast table in front of Narcissa’s window. She, also, had only thrown on a loose robe over her nightgown. “Took you long enough,” she said as Narcissa walked over to the table.

“Some people make good hygiene a priority,” Narcissa quipped.

“Or they just like the look of pruny fingers and toes,” Erinn grinned as she poured Narcissa a cup of tea.

“So,” Narcissa said as she sat down, “have you gotten Fudge’s letter yet?”

Erinn nodded and held a piece of parchment out to Narcissa. “It sounds pretty interesting.” Narcissa read:

My dear Miss Whateley,

I am pleased to have found you a position within the Ministry so quickly. We have a new department, quite an experimental one, which I think you will find most interesting. Because of your background in both the wizarding and Muggle worlds, I am pleased to offer you the position of Assistant Director of our new Muggle and Squib Relations Department.

“Assistant Director? Rinn, that’s fabulous!” Narcissa looked up from the letter to see the Cheshire-cat grin on Erinn’s face.

“Go ahead and finish it,” she said happily.

The Department is, as I mentioned before, rather on probationary status, and thus is quite small at the moment. But, if successful, as I believe it will be, it is expected to grow rapidly.

The office is located in Muggle London, and I have enclosed the address and directions. Both Muggles and magical folk are on the staff, and I believe you will find it a most rewarding environment.

 I am, etc.

 Cornelius Fudge

 Minister of Magic

Narcissa put down the letter and looked at Erinn, who was still grinning madly. “Erinn,

this is wonderful news!”

Erinn nodded. “Want to be my secretary?”

Narcissa turned up her nose imperiously. “Mrs. Lucius Malfoy, be your secretary?” she said in an exaggerated accent. “That’s perfectly ridiculous.”

“‘Mrs. Lucius Malfoy’ sounds like a stuffed-up old hen to me,” Erinn replied. “I wouldn’t want her, anyway. But I would like my best friend,” she said seriously.

“Then you shall have her,” Narcissa answered raising her teacup, and Erinn clicked her own cup against it.

Half an hour later, they were both dressed and standing in the parlor. “Ready?” Erinn asked, obviously excited about her imminent promotion. Narcissa nodded and they both pulled out their wands and Disapparated.

They reappeared within the new home of the Muggle and Squib Relations Department. Witches, wizards, and Muggles bustled about, moving furniture and hanging pictures on the walls. Fudge was there as well, supervising and signing the various forms people kept bringing him. He smiled when he saw them. “Ah, Miss Whateley!” he called as he began walking toward them. “And Mrs. Malfoy, what a pleasure!” He bowed obsequiously and kissed her hand.

“Good afternoon, Cornelius,” she said with an amused smile.

“Are you here to see Miss Whateley’s new department?” he asked. Erinn fairly beamed.

“Actually, I’m here to join it, if I may,” Narcissa replied.

Fudge tried and failed to look unsurprised. “Well, yes, of course, my dear. As you wish, of course. Did Mr. Malfoy ask you to come?”

“Not at all,” Narcissa shook her head. “I’m actually here at Erinn’s request.”

“I’d like to hire her as my secretary, if I may,” Erinn said.

“Well, yes, certainly,” Fudge quickly replied, but his expression was desperately asking,Why on earth...? “I’ll have someone who can work this infernal ‘lift’ take us upstairs to see your offices, if you like.”

“Yes, thank you,” Erinn answered, as Narcissa continued to smile. “Could he be more patronizing?” she asked after he had bustled off.

“He’s worse when Lucius is around,” Narcissa answered. “He’s always been quite enamored of the family. There’s talk he once tried to adopt a daughter, so she could marry Draco.”

Erinn laughed. “You’re not serious!”

“I have no idea if it’s true, but I wouldn’t be surprised.” Narcissa smiled at Fudge, who was standing with a young man and waving them over to the open lift doors. “Shall we?”

Erinn allowed herself a fleeting mad grin and squeezed Narcissa’s fingers. “Yes, let’s.” They boarded the lift with Fudge, who watched suspiciously as the young man pressed a lighted button that made the metal box rumble and begin to move.

It’s a different kind of magic, Narcissa told herself. And a whole new world.

* * *

Lucius Apparated into his study, poured himself a glass of cognac and fell into his favorite chair. Within moments, Hilary floated in through one of the bookcases.

“Mrs. Malfoy had said you were working today,” the ghost said. “You’re home quite early, if you don’t mind my saying, sir.”

“I never went to work,” Lucius said, swirling his drink and making the ice cubes clink against the glass. “Have a seat, Hilary.”

Hilary floated over and folded himself into the chair opposite Lucius, where he patiently waited for his master to speak.

“The party went off well, didn’t it?” Lucius finally asked.

“Yes, sir. Mrs. Malfoy did quite a good job with the preparations,” Hilary answered.

Lucius frowned into his glass. “Why?” he asked quietly.

he ghost was puzzled. “I’m sorry, sir?”

“Why do you think she did it?”

Hilary shrugged. “I couldn’t say, sir. But if I were to guess, I would think she wished to impress your friends and associates.”

“Yes, that’s it,” Lucius sighed and took a drink.

“I believe she also wished to impress you, sir,” Hilary added, unsure of what his master was wanting to hear.

Apparently, that was not it. Lucius set his glass on the small side table with a loud thunkand stood up. Hilary rose, as well, but Lucius waved him back to the chair as he walked over to the fireplace. “Has something happened, sir?” Hilary asked. Those ninnies in the kitchen had been gossiping this morning about Mr. Malfoy carrying his wife upstairs after the party, but Hilary had assumed it was some exaggerated rumor. “Is Mrs. Malfoy well, sir? She seemed quite out-of-sorts this morning.”

“Is she here?” Lucius turned back to his butler.

“No, sir,” Hilary answered, “she’s in town with Miss Whateley.”

Lucius growled. “That Gryffindor is a bad influence on her.”

If I may say, sir,” Hilary hesitated before continuing, “I think it’s good that she’s associating with a friend of her own. I haven’t seen her so happy in a long time, until Miss Whateley arrived.”

Lucius returned to his chair. “Do you think she’s unhappy?” he asked, once again swirling his ice cubes.

“No, sir, I didn’t mean to imply that. I simply meant...” the ghost wondered how to complete his thought, “she seems lonely, ever since Master Draco left for school.”

Lucius sipped his drink. “Why did you suggest I marry her?”

Hilary paused. He had been Lucius’ personal servant since the man was a small child. He had taught him basic academics, and watched him grow up, through childhood sadness and tantrums, to youthful excitement about going to Hogwarts, to his first confusing relations with women. To preserve the adult Mr. Malfoy’s dignity, their relationship required careful handling. “Well,” Hilary answered, “the situation called for it, and you were overdue for settling down, sir. She was a lovely girl, and the marriage made your parents so happy.”

Lucius smirked into his glass. “Let’s try that again, old man.”

Hilary finally smiled. Lucius had called him ‘old man’ when he was young, before maturity had brought the sneer to his mouth and the coldness to his grey eyes, back when his opinion mattered and his master genuinely wished to hear truths. “I had hoped having a family would be a calming influence.”

Lucius raised an eyebrow. “Was I so difficult?”

“Yes, sir,” Hilary replied, perhaps too quickly.

“Has it helped?” Lucius smirked, then shook his head, “No, don’t answer that.” He once again returned to his pensive expression.

Hilary folded his hands. Normally, his master was not one for these brooding silences. “What has happened, sir?”

Lucius sighed. “I think I’ve lost my mind.”

“I’m sorry, sir?”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think someone had put a spell on me,” Lucius replied, pinching the bridge of his nose.

The ghost shook his head. “But who would...”

“It’s the dress,” Lucius said, standing up. “That damned dress!” He threw his tumbler into the fireplace.

“Sir?” Hilary was confused. He had noticed nothing wrong with Mrs. Malfoy’s dress.

Lucius began pacing. “What was she playing at?”

Hilary rose to better watch his master. “I thought her dress suited her quite well,” he offered.

“Of course you do,” Lucius said, turning to him. “Everyone did. And she knew they would.”

“Most men would feel proud when others find their wives attractive,” Hilary reminded him.

Lucius nodded, “Well, I did, at that.” He knitted his brows. “But she needn’t have flaunted herself so.”

“Flaunting, sir?” That sounded very unlike Mrs. Malfoy.

“Yes, flaunting,” Lucius nearly yelled. “Why else would she wear a dress that color? She knows I don’t care for blue...” He turned his back on Hilary and started pacing again.

Hilary watched Lucius’ retreating back and realized that his master was very nearly angry. Why should he be so bothered that his wife looked lovely at the party? “Do you think,” Hilary was almost embarrassed to ask, “do you think she was trying to make you jealous?”

“Yes, I do,” Lucius said vehemently, “Though what good she thought it would do her, I have no idea.”

“Perhaps she believed that jealousy might be a sign that you care for her,” Hilary suggested.

“Care?” Lucius spun around. “Old man, you know better. Emotion is for the weak. And love is a little girl’s daydream.”

“Your parents loved each other,” Hilary reminded him.

“Yes,” Lucius said, “and look what it did to my father. My mother ruled this house and him, and he let her. Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but I vowed long ago that no woman would ever have such power over me. Love,” he snorted. “My father was as foolish as a schoolgirl with love for my mother. Ridiculous.”

Hilary sank back into the chair. If he had still possessed a tongue, he would have bitten it. The late Julian Malfoy had never been anything near ‘foolish,’ though it was true he had given his wife free reign over the household. One didn’t need to be in love with her to understand the wisdom of that. Amaranta had, in her youth, displayed a willful and bold personality most young men of the time found exciting and charming. The elder Mrs. Malfoy, though still willful, could better have been described as shrewd and even stifling. Age and maturity had obscured the girl she had been for everyone but her husband, whose besotted heart never heard her sharp tones, saw her lips twist into the sneer now worn by her son, or felt the slightest qualm for granting her every wish.

Lucius looked at his butler. “What are you smiling about?”

“I’m remembering your parents, sir,” Hilary replied.

“Hmph.” Lucius poured himself another glass and fell into his chair again. “Ridiculous,” he muttered, nursing his drink. “A man shouldn’t be held so in thrall of his wife.”

Hilary realized that his master wasn’t necessarily speaking about his parents anymore. Maintaining his composure, he rose from the chair. “Shall I have a late dinner brought to you, sir?” Lucius wordlessly waved him away, and Hilary bowed and floated out through the door. Once out of the room, he allowed himself a small smile. Perhaps there was hope for his master’s humanity, after all.