Devotion

Author's Note: A very long wait on this one, for which I apologize. Thanks - and credit - go as always to my lovely beta Steph; and my "angry Lucius" muse and quasi-Brit, Alan. This would never have been finished without you two.

~*~*~*~*~*~

On Monday morning, Narcissa once again tried to open her door, but the handle only made a hollow clicking sound. She sighed. Same as yesterday. She walked to her wardrobe and dressed for the day as if nothing were different, sat down at her vanity and took her time arranging her hair. I have all the time in the world, she mused. Her mind was over-active, as she didn't have anyone to talk to, but still she hadn't figured out what had gotten under Lucius' skin.

As if summoned, the one person who would know knocked on her door a second before it was opened. "My dear," Lucius greeted, watching her cautiously from the doorway.

Narcissa only granted him a cool glance without standing, and casually crossed her legs. Does he think I'm going to attack him? she wondered, almost amused by his wariness.

"Are you ready to come out?" he asked. As if it's as simple as that.

"Are you ready to be civilized?" Narcissa responded, unable to keep the tartness out of her voice.

Supremely unaffected, Lucius blinked at her. "I am always civilized."

"No," she corrected, "hurling unfounded accusations and locking people up is not civilized, Lucius."

He raised an eyebrow and his low voice rumbled, "Nor is flaunting one's infidelity in public."

Narcissa heaved a disgusted sigh as she pushed out of her chair and walked toward him. She could feel a tingle in her skin from the nearness of the ward, but she had no desire to test it. She stopped in front of him, looking directly into his eyes. "You accuse me of 'flaunting infidelity?' You, who are so indiscriminate in your affairs that every witch in Britain knows my shame? You, who sank to cavorting with a servant in our own house, daring me to discover it just to see my response?"

A muscle twitched in Lucius' jaw and his gaze was murder. "I see your blood has not cooled yet," he said evenly. "Perhaps some more time to reflect upon your actions is required. Good day." He flicked his wand and Narcissa was pushed back as her door closed again. She didn't even bother trying the handle this time.

Why is he doing this? she wondered, but no answer came.

A short time later, Maddie appeared with a snap, carrying a breakfast tray. "Mrs. Malfoy needs to eat," the creature declared.

"Yes, I do. Thank you." Narcissa tried to smile at her house-elf, but she knew it looked as forced as it felt. Maddie levitated the tray over to her small table and disappeared with another snap.

Narcissa sank into one of the chairs and lifted the napkin off the tray. She was surprised to find her breakfast was not merely bread and water. Apparently some of the servants, at least, did not share Lucius' dark mood toward her: the eggs were poached perfectly, the raspberry scones warm and buttery, and the bacon was not too crisp. She began with pleasure, but soon slowed and was taking smaller and smaller bites by the time Hilary floated through her wall.

"Good morning, Hilary," she greeted, though with little feeling.

"Good morning, ma'am," the ghost replied.

Narcissa leaned back from her breakfast. "Have you come to ask me to give up for the sake of peace and harmony?" she asked.

"No, ma'am," Hilary shook his head, "I've actually come to apologize for him."

"Apologize?" she crossed her arms. "Did he send you?"

"No, ma'am," he replied. "In fact, I think he would be quite displeased to learn I had visited you."

"Then I shan't mention it to him," Narcissa said.

"Thank you." Hilary did seem a little more at ease now. "I don't intend to excuse his behavior, ma'am, but I thought I might be able to perhaps explain."

"It won't change anything," Narcissa said.

"No," he agreed, "but... some things should be said."

Narcissa nodded, indicating him to continue.

"Mr. Malfoy does care for you, ma'am," Hilary informed her.

Narcissa forced herself not to snort. "He has an interesting way of showing it."

"He has never felt comfortable having feelings for other people," the ghost explained. "His parents had... an unusual relationship, which was all Lucius knew for most of his life."

Narcissa nodded. "I remember them. Julian was a cold fish to everyone but her - it was obvious he was besotted. But Lucius' mother," she frowned, "I could never tell whether or not Amaranta truly loved him back."

"Oh, she did," the ghost assured her. "They were both madly in love, from the beginning. Lucius, however..." Hilary sighed. "I don't think Lucius ever saw them that way. He thought his father's love was a weakness; that he was a slave to the will of his formidable wife. Lucius wished never to be in that position."

Narcissa nodded again. "Hence his behavior." Lucius' actions were somewhat understandable, given that, but still far from forgivable.

"Yes," Hilary replied. "When he brought you home, I assumed at first that you were only one among so many others, but your situation... I thought having a child would teach Lucius that love is not something to fear."

"It didn't work," Narcissa said sadly.

Hilary seemed to share her sadness, and lowered his head. "Not immediately, no. And in a way I do feel responsible, so I apologize. But lately Lucius has been showing promise."

"Promise?" Narcissa raised an eyebrow. "In a man his age? He needs more than 'promise.'"

Hilary nodded. "True," he granted. "I think lately he has been trying to understand and learn how to express these feelings which he has never had to deal with before. Was he not different to you the evening of his birthday party?"

Narcissa turned away, once again feeling the sting on her cheek. "I've tried to forget that," she said softly.

"Why?" the ghost asked, "Was it not the sign you have been seeking for years?"

"I thought it might be, at the time," she said. How could I have been so foolish, to let myself believe? "But the next day and ever since he's been so... odd." Not odd at all, she admitted, things are back as they were before. The way they always have been.

"He was very confused by his reaction to you that evening," Hilary said. "He thought you might have put a spell on him, or were deliberately trying to make him jealous."

Narcissa was taken aback. Had Lucius gone mad, to think she would do so? "Why would I do such a thing?"

Hilary raised a transparent eyebrow. "Was there not something you wished to happen that night?"

I wanted him to see me, she admitted, not look through me. I wanted him to be pleased with his party. And maybe, just maybe, I hoped it would actually make him happy, and he'd smile at me again... Narcissa shook away the silly romantic thought. "And since he..." she didn't even know the word for what he had done. Capitulated? Dropped his guard for once? "does he think I'm trying it again?"

"He has built a pattern in his mind," Hilary explained. "The last time, he surprised himself by giving in. He is determined now that it will not happen again."

Narcissa sighed. The one time in his life he 'gave in,' and I hadn't even been trying to make him... But he still blames me. "So am I to live the rest of my days in this room, where he can pretend I don't exist?" she asked.

Hilary almost looked sheepish. "That seems to be his first reaction, yes. He will undoubtedly reconsider." The ghost sounded more confident than Narcissa felt.

"He hasn't yet," she reminded him.

He bowed his head. "I will speak to him."

"Thank you," Narcissa said, and the ghost rose and floated toward her door.

"He is a difficult man," Hilary said, turning back to her, "but he was not always so. I believe he is changing."

Narcissa shook her head. "I don't have the time to spend hoping that is so."

"If I may say so, ma'am: it seems all you have is time," he reminded her.

"I suppose you're right," Narcissa sighed again. She hadn't felt so trapped in sixteen years.

"Time will benefit him, too, ma'am, you'll see," Hilary assured her, and he floated out again.

Could Hilary be right? She didn't want to forgive Lucius just yet, and tried to stifle the small glimmer of hope that the ghost's words had awakened; it would overwhelm her if she dwelled upon it. She walked to her bed and picked up the book on her night stand. Fiction was her guilty pleasure, and Shahrazad's 1001 Arabian Nights had been diverting yesterday, so she opened it to begin again.

~*~

Lucius threw himself into the leather chair in his study, his blood still roiling with fury. How dare she? How dare she continue to defy me! Several times he was on the verge of rising from the chair to go and demand further explanation, but something kept him seated, so he continued to seethe.

A house-elf appeared with a snap holding a breakfast tray. "Dobby was wondering if Master would..." it began in its most subservient voice, but the creature had no chance to get any further.

Lucius rose in a single motion as something he could vent to... no... vent upon finally arrived. His wand was in his hand and with a fierce slash, the door to his study slammed open. Trembling, the house-elf knew that it had chosen the worst moment to interrupt the master's thoughts, and it tried to bow obsequiously as it backed toward the doorway.

It thinks I'm letting it go, Lucius realized, and the creature's naiveté made his lip curl in dark amusement. A second slash of Lucius' wand, and the tray with a toasted muffin, the silver jam container and the elegant cup and saucer for tea went flying against the far wall, missing all the books but still making a terrible mess. The creature looked stupidly at the jam dripping down the wall and the shards of porcelain on the floor and then at Lucius, its hands extended as if still holding the tray.

The sight of the horrid little thing and its liquidy eyes infuriated Lucius, and he kicked it toward the doorway. He gained some small satisfaction as the house-elf hit the frame and slumped to the floor, still looking at him with that confused and stupid expression. He closed in upon the stunned form and redirected his kick to send it down the hallway where it collided with a suit of armor. The armor shivered and moved ever so slightly to keep its balance. Lucius once more advanced upon the house-elf and picked it up by its large ears, pulling that twisted ugly face close to his own.

"You will clean up the mess you made," Lucius hissed, calmly but dangerously low, "then you will arrange punishment." He tossed the house-elf against the wall where the armor had been just moments before. The suit had seen its master's temper and was in no mood itself to be disassembled.

"And then," Lucius' voice was cold and deadly, "I shall arrange a more suitable punishment. You have five minutes." He turned on his heel and stalked back towards his study.

The exercise had done him good. Now he could clearly think his bloody thoughts again instead of wallowing in incoherent fury. I must remember to do this again sometime, Lucius thought as he shut the door of his study and turned over the hour glass on his desk. "Five... no, four minutes," he snapped at it. The emerald sand obediently lowered itself to the four minute level and began quietly hissing through to the bottom bulb.

~*~

In London, the tiny white flowers on Narcissa's desk were blooming cheerfully over a growing pile of paperwork. Erinn waited until noon and, when Narcissa still hadn't appeared, she poked her head out into the hallway. Sean was about halfway down, and she called to him.

"Sean, are you busy?" she asked. He turned around, looking a little startled and almost... lost. Daydreaming, probably, she thought. "Could you come help me with Narcissa's papers? It looks like she won't be in today."

"Yes, of course," he replied, and smiled at her as if he'd been cheerful all day.

"Thanks so much," she said. He followed her into the office and caught on quickly to which papers Erinn needed to approve and sign, and which were simply to be filed. They shuffled the applications, forms, and reports in silence. To ask each other if they had enjoyed the party, though polite, would have been pointless.

They both looked up at every sound of footsteps outside the doorway, but none ever entered. Erinn sighed, her nose filling with the scent of Sean's flowers. The soft fragrance really did remind her of Narcissa, and she hoped her friend was all right.

"You don't think he did anything to her, do you?" Sean finally asked, the concern in his voice reflected in his eyes.

Erinn looked at him and had to stifle her own concern to answer, "Nothing too drastic, no."

Apparently, that wasn't a good enough response for Sean. "Then why isn't she here?" he asked emphatically. "He could have hurt her!" He looked ready to charge off and challenge Lucius to a duel.

Erinn sighed. She did not need his hysterics on top of her own worries. "Look, Sean," she began, more terse than she would normally be, "Narcissa and Lucius have their disagreements, and it's none of anyone else's business." Otherwise I'd be over there right now, giving Mr. High-and-Mighty a piece of my mind. "They'll work through them," she assured him. "It might take a while, because Lucius is a stubborn prat, but Cissa will be all right."

Sean looked dejected and aimlessly straightened the stack in front of him. "It's my fault," he said quietly.

Erinn softened. "How do you figure?"

"Well, when I kissed her..." he said, "that's when he got angry."

Erinn shook her head. "Lucius is a brute, and it's not your fault he got so angry." She raised an eyebrow, "But you probably shouldn't go around dancing with and kissing other men's wives."

Sean blushed. "It was... we were under mistletoe. I thought it would be all right. Spirit of the season, and all that..." he mumbled into silence, but then looked up with angry eyes. "And he wasn't dancing with her. She looked so sad. It wasn't right."

"That may be, Sean," she said, "but it's not your place to interfere."

Sean almost said something, then closed his mouth and looked petulant. "I suppose you're right."

"Narcissa will be fine, Sean." Erinn reached over and squeezed his forearm. "I'm worried about her, too, but there's nothing we can do."

Sean just nodded, still frowning. He sullenly helped her finish the papers, and mumbled "goodbye" to her as he stood and walked toward the door.

"She deserves someone who would..." he said from the doorway, and seemed to search for the right word. "Someone who would honor her."

"I know she does, Sean," Erinn replied. He nodded again and waved as he turned down the hallway. Erinn shook her head. Chivalry is dead, kid, she thought, and men like Lucius Malfoy are the proof.

~*~

That evening, Narcissa sat at her window, gazing out over the manor's grounds as the sun set, her book lying forgotten at her side. A small snap announced Maddie's arrival with her supper tray and pulled her back to reality. "Thank you," she said as she pulled out one of the chairs and sat down at her table, but the creature remained, wringing her hands and looking up at her with those big, glassy eyes.
"Perhaps Mrs. Malfoy would like to use her napkin," Maddie said.

My napkin? Narcissa wondered, and picked up the neatly-folded linen. Beneath it, only just poking out from under her plate, was the corner of an envelope. Curious, she pulled it out and saw it was addressed to her, in familiar handwriting. Rinn. She turned to Maddie. "How...?"

"The ghost told Maddie when it arrived," the elf replied. "Mr. Malfoy doesn't know. Maddie will have to punish herself for keeping secrets, but Mrs. Malfoy has always been kind. Maddie does not require punishment as often as some others."

"Thank you," Narcissa said, and although they both knew there was a hot iron waiting for her, Maddie smiled as she disappeared with another snap.

Narcissa turned back to the contraband envelope. Lucius had not said outright that she could not send or receive letters, but it was a fine distinction to draw and she knew he would still be very displeased if he learned of it. Even realizing what a dangerous gesture it was, though, Narcissa was glad her friend had made it. She leaned back in her chair and broke the seal.

Inside was a note written in the same hand as the envelope: letters that were tall and slender like Erinn herself: There is a world outside, and it's waiting for you.

Narcissa tipped the envelope upside down and a tiny white flower fell out. Like the ones on my desk, she thought with a smile, and gently closed her fingers around the delicate blossom. She felt a tugging behind her navel, and the world began to spin. She tried to drop the flower, but she couldn't pull her fingers away. The floor fell away from her feet and her room dissolved into a maelstrom of color. Narcissa closed her eyes to stave off the feeling of nausea that threatened to wash over her, and then suddenly the floor was back, slamming into her hip and shoulder.

She pushed herself up and looked around. This isn't Rinn's flat, she realized. The room was dimly lit, and there were flowers everywhere. "Rinn?" she called out. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she recognized that all the flowers around her were narcissi. Her brow wrinkled in confusion and a niggling worry set into her stomach. "Sean?" she called, much more hesitantly, and began walking toward the door.

She nearly collided with him as he was coming in, carrying a mismatched tea service. He smiled brightly at her, seeming not to notice her confusion. "Ah, you're here," he said, quickly moving past her to set the tray on the coffee table between two of the flower pots.

"Where is 'here'?" she asked.

"Home," Sean replied simply, still smiling. "Please, come sit down." He lowered himself to the sofa and began pouring two cups of tea.
The niggling worry in Narcissa's stomach turned into a block of ice. He can't... she thought, but suddenly all her memories of Sean were cast in a new light; the flowers, the dance, mistletoe, confronting Lucius... 'You'd make a wonderful knight in shining armor,' she had told him. 'You deserve one.' His words rang in her ears now.

"What's going on?" she asked, hoping that her worry was unfounded, that her dark suspicion was simply a result of her emotional tumult over the past few days.

Sean looked up at her. "Well, I'm rescuing you, of course."

The room whirled around Narcissa, but this time it was no Portkey. Kidnapping me, her mind corrected. He does think he's a knight in shining armor, and this is all part of some fairy tale. Her knees buckled and the next thing she knew, Sean was kneeling next to her on the floor, pulling her into his arms and brushing her hair away from her face with fingers that were gentle but so very wrong.

"Shh, sweetheart," he whispered into her ear. "You're safe now. You don't ever have to go back to him. I'm going to take care of you."

Narcissa pushed away from him. "Why are you doing this?" she asked.

"Surely you must know by now," he replied, and an anguished cry started building in Narcissa's chest. Sean took her face in his hands again. His words were soft but Narcissa though they could shatter the world: "I love you."

And he kissed her.