Devotion

The mood in the Malfoy house did not lighten with Rebecca's removal. Lucius was as elusive as ever and Narcissa as determined not to let it get to her. Weeks rolled by and soon it was time for the Ministry's employee Yule Party, the seventeenth she would spend with Lucius.

If we even go, she mused as she dressed for work one morning. He's been in such a mood lately that he might not be up to it. However, Lucius surprised her by knocking on her door that morning. "Good morning, my dear," he greeted after a slight pause. He was obviously trying to be cordial, but was rather awkward about it.

Perplexed, Narcissa replied carefully, "Good morning, Lucius."

"I hope a week is long enough for you to acquire a suitable dress for the party," he said with practiced casualness, "unless you already have one?"

"No, a week is plenty," Narcissa answered, still a bit confused. "I hadn't thought we would be going, though."

"Of course we are," he responded, still in that flippant tone. "Who would let a silly little domestic... snag get in the way of social obligations?" He turned toward the door. "Oh, and do try to be festive. Your recent mood could perfectly ruin a good party." He swept out without another word.

My recent mood? Narcissa gaped. 'Silly little domestic snag?' Is that what we have? She huffed. Lucius' conceit knew no bounds. I'll give him festive, she decided, and headed off to work.

That evening, she and Erinn went shopping for dresses at Malkin's. The seamstresses were much more enthusiastic about Erinn's presence than they had been two months earlier, and she ended up with a slinky number in burgundy silk that accentuated her slim height.

Narcissa took home a strapless red satin dress whose skirt opened from the belted waist into deep pleats lined with cream. Festive enough for you, Lucius? she wondered as she pulled up her hair the night of the party. She wound a cheerful sprig of holly into her curls and decided he couldn't ask for more.

She frowned as she clasped the ruby choker behind her neck, though. Lucius could be as particular as he liked about her appearance and attitude, but it was he who would set the tone for that evening; she could only follow his lead. Nothing to do but play the game, Narcissa. She squared her shoulders. None of them know anything, and none of them will, so long as I give nothing away. Lucius certainly won't. She practiced her party smile for the mirror and straightened her pleats one last time before she slipped out of the room.

The soft swishing of her skirt was the only sound as Narcissa swept down the stairs, Lucius watching her every move from the bottom. As expected, he was waiting in black dress robes, though of a slightly different cut from his birthday robes, and this time with gold accents. It seemed he, too, had made concessions to the season. "My dear," he greeted her, as always, and held out his arm.

Narcissa dutifully slid her hand into the bend of his elbow, but the ice in his gaze made her want to run back up the stairs and fetch a wrap. Goosebumps raised along her arms.

"A rather revealing cut for this weather, isn't it?" Lucius commented.

It has nothing to do with the weather, she wanted to tell him, but she had decided to be civil tonight. "In a room full of people, I'll be warm enough," she said, and couldn't resist adding, "Besides, it's 'festive.'" Lucius raised an eyebrow at her tone, but nodded silently and led her to the parlor, where they Apparated to the Ministry.

They appeared in a small room just off the Grand Ballroom and could see a throng of people milling about just beyond the doorway. Lucius slipped his wand back into his robes and covered Narcissa's hand on his arm with his own. It would have seemed a rather intimate gesture from an outside point of view, but Narcissa recognized it was meant only to keep her close by. Once again reminding herself to play along, she smiled at Lucius to show him she was ready to do their social 'duty.'

Lucius led her into the fray and was as cordial and even affable as anyone could ask. As they progressed around the room, they stopped to chat with the more important of the Ministry's employees: usually department heads or diplomatic liaisons. Narcissa caught sight of Erinn at one point, but Lucius strategically worked his way around her. Erinn realized what was going on and didn't try to approach them -- she only waved at Narcissa the next time she caught her eye. Narcissa sorely wished to spend the party with Erinn instead of Lucius, but kept her hand on her husband's arm, contenting herself with an acknowledging nod to her friend.

Fudge asked Narcissa to dance when they found their way to him, which Lucius surprisingly granted. He graciously gave him Narcissa's hand, and smiled as they walked onto the dance floor, but she could feel her husband's eyes on her as Cornelius swept her about, and she was sure Lucius didn't hear a word of the prattling of the Minster's escort until their dance was done and her hand returned to his arm.

They continued on their path of hobnobbing and socializing, though no one else asked Narcissa to dance; too intimidated, she supposed, by Lucius' presence. Once they had seen everyone Lucius wished to speak to, he led her onto the dance floor, and she gave an inward sigh of relief. Ah, finally, she thought, moving effortlessly with him, we'll spend the rest of the party dancing, and then go home. No more of this farce of forced civility.

But Lucius led her back to the sidelines after only one dance, and made no move to return to the floor. Narcissa kicked idly at the hem of her dress as she watched couples flow on and off the dance floor. Time ticked by, but Lucius only remained where he was, making himself a prime target for wizards who believed themselves high enough in the Ministry's hierarchy to approach him. Though never curt or overtly hostile to these less-than-worthies, he was less friendly to them than their superiors, and the chats never lasted long.

As each one walked away, Narcissa expected Lucius to take her back to the dance floor to escape their sycophantism. Instead, he only stood there and surveyed the room, seeming to anyone else relaxed and casual, but Narcissa, who knew all his party tricks, could tell he was only biding his time, as she was. She sighed. Lucius was obviously still annoyed, though she couldn't imagine what would be vexing him so. Coming to the party was perhaps a mistake, but it was too late to take it back now. Narcissa joined Lucius in pretending to watch the party, waiting for the night to be over.

"Ah, Lucius," Fudge approached them; "I had hoped you hadn't left yet. I wanted to talk to you about..." Narcissa paid little attention. She liked Cornelius and enjoyed talking to him, but while he was indulging Lucius' vanity, her input would be decidedly unwelcome.

Narcissa felt cool fingers on her shoulder and could have jumped out of her skin. She turned around to reproach whoever it was for giving her such a fright, but found Sean standing there with a finger to his lips. She wrinkled her brow in puzzlement, and he took her hand and mouthed, 'Come on,' nodding toward the dance floor. Narcissa looked back at Lucius, but he was quite involved with his conversation with Fudge. He won't even know I'm gone, she reasoned. She nodded to Sean and they slipped away unnoticed.

Once out of earshot, Sean said, "You looked like you needed rescuing."

Narcissa smiled, "I did, thank you." His concern had lifted her spirits instantly. "You'd make a wonderful knight in shining armor," she assured him.

"Well, you deserve one," he said seriously, for once meeting her eyes.

"Thank you, Sean," Narcissa replied. Sweet kid, she thought. Awkward, but he means well.

"Minister Fudge was a good sport when I asked him to distract your husband," Sean explained. "He agreed that it wasn't right for you to be kept on the sidelines like that."

Narcissa couldn't help but laugh. "What a conspiracy!" She looked back toward Lucius; he was now heatedly expressing some opinion to Fudge, who was nodding in an 'I'll take that under advisement' way, and making small responses at the appropriate times. "Lucius will be cross," she admitted, "but thank you again."

Sean treated her to one of his boyish smiles. "Any time," he replied with a bow, and held out his hand. "Shall we?" Narcissa smiled back and let him pull her in.

Sean wasn't as smooth and confident a dancer as Lucius, but Narcissa managed to follow him and enjoyed herself. She felt light on her feet and as happy as she had been the first night she'd danced with Lucius, and her smile now was no longer forced. Sean spun her out as the song ended and she came back to him laughing and applauding the musicians.

"You are a wonderful dancer, Narcissa," he said.

"Well, thank you," she replied. "I've had lots of practice: almost twenty years of these parties, and Lucius loves to show off. Well, usually..." she trailed off, thoughts of her husband bringing back her gloomy mood.

"Yeah, well..." Sean muttered noncommittally. Narcissa looked down at her skirt and pinched at the pleats, willing the awkward moment to pass. "Hey, look," Sean announced suddenly, and pointed up to a cheerful bunch of mistletoe above their heads.

"Oh, yes," she replied, looking up at it. Such a funny little plant. She had never understood why a parasitic fungus was considered festive, and why people associated it with...

Sean planted a sudden kiss on her cheek, and Narcissa almost jumped away. She looked at him with eyes wide in shock, and he blushed. "Happy Christmas, Narcissa," he said simply.

"What?" she asked, her mind refusing to function. Sean had just gone and... kissed her? The mistletoe. "Oh," she came somewhat back to her senses. "Yes, Happy Christmas, Sean," she replied, and leaned in to kiss his cheek in return.

A vise-like grip on her left arm brought her up short, and spun her around to face her husband. Lucius' expression was carefully composed -- so carefully that Narcissa could tell he must be truly angry underneath. "We are leaving now," was all he said.

"Lucius," Narcissa said, half question and half protest. This was very odd behavior for him to show in public. She tried to wiggle her arm out of his grip, but his fingers only closed even tighter. Something is very wrong here, Narcissa realized, and a cold stone of dread settled in her stomach.

Sean noticed her movement, and his eyes narrowed when Lucius did not let her go. Oh, Sean, Narcissa pleaded, you silly boy, this is no time for heroics. She willed him not to say or do anything, but youthful blood runs hot and fast; Sean raised his chin and looked Lucius straight in the eye. Dear gods, Narcissa prayed. This was going very badly very fast. "Mr. Malfoy," Sean warned in his most serious voice, and extended his hand.

Whether he had been reaching for her or Lucius, Narcissa would never know. Sean's face quickly went pale, and his hand froze halfway to them. Narcissa looked up and saw that Lucius' eyes were finally beginning to show the fury boiling beneath. His fingers twitched against her arm, as if struggling not to let her go -- the fingers of his wand hand. Oh, sweet Merlin... Suddenly, the last thing she wanted Lucius to do was let her go, no matter how bruising his grip.

"Lucius," her voice came out in a whisper. As if only just reminded of her presence, his hand tightened definitively, and she could have sighed in relief, despite the pain.

"Do not presume to speak to me," Lucius warned Sean in a low voice, "And do not ever touch my wife again." Sean stood frozen in place as Lucius walked Narcissa out of the room, and a hush she hadn't noticed was replaced by feverish whispering.

They were out of the ballroom and standing in the main foyer when she tried again to pull her arm free. Surprisingly, Lucius' hand fell away this time. "What in Merlin's name are you doing?" she insisted.

"Not here," Lucius said through gritted teeth, putting a hand on Narcissa's back and leading her toward the Floo fireplaces, which were already lit and blazing merrily. He threw Floo Powder into one and hardly waited for the flames to turn green before roughly shoving her in. "Malfoy Manor," he instructed coldly, and the flames engulfed her.

Narcissa's confusion did not help her swirling head when she emerged from the grand fireplace of the Manor. Even so, she was thankful Lucius had enough presence of mind not to try Apparating in such an agitated state. He could have splinched us both. Narcissa shuddered at the thought.

But why is he so angry? she puzzled, and did not have long to wait for her answer. Lucius stepped out of the fireplace as unperturbed as if it were only a doorway. No, Narcissa corrected herself, that's quite the wrong word. Lucius was very perturbed, but his movements were oddly smooth as he walked right up to her and clasped her shoulders.

"What are you playing at?" he demanded, the necessary decorum from the party having fallen away now that no one was around to watch. Narcissa knew he was still somehow in control, though the heat from his grey-eyed glare felt like it could burn her skin. She tried shrinking away, but he held her fast.

Walk carefully, Narcissa, she told herself. She shook her head and used the meek voice that had gotten her out of so many other disagreements, though only half expecting it to work now, "I don't know what you're..."

"Don't play innocent with me!" He shook her. Narcissa could feel the press of his thumbs on her collarbone, and knew it was only precious inches to her windpipe. Lucius had never before threatened her life, but tonight was like nothing she had ever experienced. "Is this supposed to be revenge?" he continued, "Is he the reason you stubbornly refuse to obey me? Do you even really work at that Department, or is it just a convenient excuse for your liaisons?"

The color drained from Narcissa's face. This was worse than she had thought. "Liaisons?" she managed through her disbelief. "Lucius, you think we're..." she couldn't even finish the sentence. It was too absurd to be true, but somehow Lucius believed it.

"Sneaking off behind my back," he said, pressing down on her shoulders, "mooning at each other like a couple of schoolchildren," the pressure increased and his tone was rising, "kissing in front of a room full of people..." Narcissa thought her knees would buckle, but Lucius let her go with a disgusted shove. "You can't think I'd be stupid enough not to realize what's going on."

"We were under mistletoe," she said carefully. She knew Lucius wouldn't believe her, not if he already had his own ideas about the situation, but she had to try. "I would have kissed Fudge if he'd been standing there with me. It's just a silly tradition."

"Yes, the mistletoe," Lucius sneered. "Convenient that you danced all the way across the floor to end in precisely that spot: the only bunch of mistletoe in the entire room."

Nothing I can say will make him believe me, Narcissa realized with a sinking heart. So she pulled herself up as close to his height as she could and said resolutely, "Lucius, I'm not going to speak to you if you're determined to be so unreasonable," and she turned to leave.

"Do not walk away from me!" Lucius boomed, grabbing her again and whipping her around to face him. She defiantly shoved back at him, having quite enough of this manhandling, but Lucius only sneered at her effort. "You try my patience, woman," he snarled and marched her toward the stairs. Narcissa continued trying to break free, but her writhing only made his grip tighten. "I will feel no remorse if you manage to break your arm in your feeble attempts," he informed her in his most condescending tone. Narcissa knew she would have bruises in the morning, but better that than a broken arm, so she stopped her struggles and was reduced to simply glaring at him as they climbed.

She tripped on the top step, but that crushing grip on her arm kept her up. "You're hurting me," she informed him, not that he cares.

"I assure you, it could hurt much more," Lucius reminded her. "Do not tempt me." He continued walking and Narcissa felt the slightest relief. She had fallen down those stairs once or twice before, and it would have been all too easy to do so again.

Lucius took her to her room and threw her inside. She bumped against the bed frame, but retained her footing as she rounded on him. "What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Something I should have done when you first conceived this notion of leaving the Manor and working again," he answered, and snatched Narcissa's wand from the corner of her vanity.

This is going beyond absurd now. She glared at him but said evenly, "Give me back my wand, Lucius," holding out her hand.

"So you can Apparate away to your working-class lover?" he sneered, "I think not."

Narcissa was losing her temper with his persistence. "You're being ridiculous," she said, stepping toward him, "Now give me back my wand."

Lucius slipped into a dueling stance there in the doorway, pointing both wands at Narcissa. This is outrageous! "You wouldn't dare," she said confidently, though a not-so-small part of her did fear what her husband was capable of. "You would strike me down, unarmed?"

"Only your word for that," he replied coolly, "so I tell you again, do not tempt me."

Discretion being the better part of valor, Narcissa stayed quiet and crossed her arms. Lucius seemed to relax, and he lowered the wands, though he made no move to return hers. "Why do you vex me?" he demanded, sounding surprisingly more weary than annoyed.

Narcissa only shook her head and replied, "You vex yourself." Lucius hissed and the tip of his wand twitched toward her, but she continued. If Lucius were going to curse her, he would have done so, and she was in no mood to play nicely with him tonight. "I am not carrying on with Sean," she insisted, "and I've done nothing to deserve this jealous rage. This supposed affair is only a figment of your imagination."

"Am I imagining, then," Lucius growled, "that he kissed you in front of a room full of people?"

Narcissa answered, exasperated, "He kissed my cheek, Lucius, and for the last time, we were under mistletoe. He would never have been brave enough to kiss me otherwise -- even if he'd been so inclined, which I doubt."

Lucius seemed to consider this, and Narcissa hoped he might finally give up his ludicrous accusations, but his tone was still chilly when he spoke again. "You must think I'm a fool," he drawled, "that I don't know other men find you attractive; that I don't see you smile at them and bask in the attention they give you."

"Oh, Lucius," she sighed and shook her head. "I socialize with your contacts, whenever you want me to; and, believe it or not, I seldom even find it enjoyable."

"Lying wench," he insisted, and Narcissa could see the frustration in him. It was nothing, however, compared to her own. I've had quite enough of this nonsense.

She walked slowly over to him. "I've said already that if you are going to maintain these outrageous accusations, I have nothing further to say to you." Close enough now, she put her hand on the doorknob. "Please leave."

Lucius was taken aback, and sneered down his aristocratic nose at his wife. "You dare to order me in my own house?" he asked.

You pompous arse, Narcissa thought. "I'm ordering you in what is also my house, in my own room. I've had enough of your unfounded jealousy, so if that's all you can bring yourself to talk about, I will bid you good night," she said, "Come back when you grow up," and she slammed the door in his face.

Narcissa only realized that was a mistake when she remembered that Lucius still had her wand. She grabbed the doorknob again, just in time to hear Lucius casting a sealing charm on her door and setting wards. "Lucius!" she yelled, pounding on the door that would now never open for her, "this is positively barbaric!" but Lucius didn't respond. No doubt he'd cast a silencing charm as well. Narcissa could scream and rant to her heart's content, and he would never be bothered. She gave the knob one more violent jiggle, but the door didn't so much as shake.

This is what he brought you up here for, she realized, and sank onto her vanity chair. You played right into his hands. Narcissa wanted to scream at herself. Damn him, she thought instead, and stood up and headed for her bathroom and a long, hot soak in the tub. Impossible man.

Lucius listened to his wife's final attempt to open her door, then turned and headed back to the stairs. Why does she have to defy me? he fumed, why can't she just obey? His robes billowed behind him like his own black cloud as he descended. Damn her, he thought as he turned into the hallway that would take him to his study and a tall glass of bourbon. Impossible woman.