Object of Affection

Object of Affection - 3

And as the smart ship grew

In stature, grace, and hue,

In shadowy silent distance grew the Iceberg, too.

Thomas Hardy - The Convergence of the Twain

She walked out into the hall and heard a small child capering about. An older lady came out to the hall, chasing him.

"Philip! Come back here - it's time for bed." It was Mrs Crouch, whom she knew from Ministry functions. "Hello, Mrs Malfoy! Don't you look fantastic tonight! May I introduce my nephew Philip? Philip, this is my friend Mrs Malfoy."

Philip looked up at her with big blue eyes and said, "Are you the lady in the picture?"

"Sorry? I don't know what you mean," Narcissa said as the child pulled her into the room, his aunt following closely behind them.

"There is a portrait in the room here, she could be your sister," said Mrs Crouch. "Mrs Malfoy, this is my niece Circe Blythe, Philip's mother. Circe, this is Lucius Malfoy's wife, Narcissa. Philip wants to ask her about the painting."

"Very pleased to meet you, Mrs Malfoy," she said with a happy smile. "I hope my son wasn't bothering you. He can be very demanding." She grabbed the boy's other hand and made him release Narcissa's glove.

"Oh, no. I was curious - I've never seen this picture," she said, straightening her glove and staring at the little boy as he wiggled about trying to free himself from his mother's gentle grip. The hollow ache in the pit of her stomach grew more painful. She missed her mother terribly.

Circe, motioning to the portrait over the mantle, said, "She hasn't spoken since we arrived, so we have not been properly introduced yet. But I think Philip is a member of her fan club already!"

Narcissa looked at the painting and recognized Lucius's mother in an instant. She had the same pale blonde hair and angular face as her husband. Only her eyes were different - almond shaped and deep blue, like her own. She didn't speak, and didn't move much - the portrait had her sitting in the chair, and the only movement she made was to give Narcissa a regal nod. It was disconcerting - that was Narcissa's nod, not Lucius's. She nodded back in greeting and turned her back on the picture to watch the little boy capering with an elf. "No Philip, that's not me. It's my mother-in-law, my husband's mother, Medea Malfoy."

"That's all right. Want to play?" Philip asked, reaching for her dress.

"No Philip, I need to go downstairs now. Be a good boy and go to bed soon so you can wake up early tomorrow. We're going to see something wonderful in the morning!"

Mrs Crouch watched her with a quiet smile, remembering her own desperate hunger for a child. Soon enough, Mrs Malfoy! You won't have the wait I did - thank goodness! Children are such a blessing. She smiled fondly at the young woman. "I'll just help Circe settle Philip down and be down in a few minutes?"

"Excuse me - I really must go. Goodnight, Philip. Sleep well." With a swish of her crinoline she was out the door.

Descending the stairs alone, her head high under the scrutiny of the Malfoy ancestors, Narcissa walked to the ballroom to find her husband. Lucius stood near the mantle with his friends, listening to his old crowd talk about the latest innovations in racing brooms. Damon and Sebastian were nowhere to be seen. As host, she had expected Sebastian to be there, but Lucius had warned her not to be late. She had a delicate dance to perform tonight - as the only woman in the Malfoy family, she would be expected to play hostess, although she would have no authority to do so. Still, it was easier to ask forgiveness than permission, so she became shadow hostess - making sure the wine and conversation flowed as more and more people arrived. Greeting people as they came in, her eyes wandered again and again to the handsome figure of her husband in his dress robes. There was no one in the room who compared to him - they were all moths circling around his flame.

Guests came through the door at a steady pace, and Narcissa greeted them all, until Sebastian came in. To her surprise, he stood next to her and greeted people as if it was the most natural thing in the world to introduce her as his daughter-in-law. She wondered that he didn't choke on his words.

Lucius watched her enter the room over his cousin Morgan's shoulder, smiling and nodding absently. She moved like a dancer and looked like Venus - and she was his. The thought warmed him, and when his father arrived he was happy to excuse himself and take his place at her side.

When all the guests had arrived, Sebastian went off to talk with an old school friend, while Narcissa and Lucius made the circuit, chatting and dancing. It was an eclectic group - Sebastian's old friends, politicians Lucius and Sebastian knew, Damon's athletic friends, old families, and famous names.

Damon stood at the opposite end of the room, surrounded by his old crowd. They were Quidditch players, mostly, and old school chums, except for one young boy. Thirteen-year-old Barty Crouch hung on their every word, in absolute heaven to be surrounded by so many Quidditch players. It was all he could do not to ask for autographs - if he even found his voice to speak. His cousin, Circe Blythe, stood next to him, quietly scanning the room for the boy's parents. The night was still young, and already the jokes were getting a little too sophisticated for the young man, even though Damon's friends were trying their hardest to keep things "repeatable."

"Damon, now don't you go living up to your reputation!" laughed Drew Waugh, one of Damon's old roommates.

"Drew, we all struggle daily against the Siren Song of the Dark Side - I'm no different from the rest of you," he said, perfectly deadpan. "Greed, selfishness, dishonesty - I'm a slave to my appetites. Why, the other day, I was in Manchester washing Muggles' feet (as I do every Wednesday), when I suddenly remembered it was my week to bake for the Dark Force Defence League. But I'd also promised to watch the Oxfam shop while Madam Agatha took her gran to church. So quick as I could, I rinsed off Big Jimmy, checked his bunion, and flew on home. Now, what's lying in the drive but a Niffler with a broken leg. I cast a Ferrula! on it, and dug a nest with my bare hands, then lined it with the Sickles in my pocket, but after that there's no time to bake my famous lemon tarts from scratch, so I cut corners and let the elf do it. Then to make matters worse, I lied, and told the Dark Arts Defence League I did make them myself. I'm a Bad Bad man," he said, shaking his head and looking abashed.

Marcus Kerr, a Beater for the Hornets, laughed heartily. "But Damon," he choked out, wiping the tears from his eyes, "we need more men like you - fallen angels that make the rest of us look so attractive by contrast."

Damon laughed, his face alight again with mirth, "It takes more than that to make you attractive, Marcus. But I see your point. Look at poor Lucius. Not to say he's above stripping naked and smearing himself with unicorn blood to run for Minister of Magic on the Labour ticket, but..."

Circe spoke up, "You mean he only looks like an angel, and the similarity ends there? I'm shocked Damon. Shocked!" she said, not even bothering to suppress a grin.

"Don't let the halo fool you," Damon said in a dramatic stage whisper. "It's just an accessory he picked up a Dervish and Banges for that delicate Morris Dance of palm-greasing and backstabbing that passes for leadership at the Ministry."

Circe tried to redirect the conversation before things became uncomfortable, "Damon, are you on about the Ministry again? Why don't you talk about something important, real issues, like the horrible Quidditch reporting in Which Broomstick, or the fascinating new offensive strategy of the Magpies. Do you think they'll ever score a point this season?"

"Quidditch writers - do you mean writers on the subject of Quidditch or Quidditch players trying to write?" said Damon with raised eyebrows.

"I'm talking about Argent LaGuera, the Malecrit of sports journalism. He doesn't just write about the game - he covers the people on and off the pitch. You can smell the stands, feel the wind in your face..."

"Sounds like you need to wade through a lot of rubbish to find the damned score," said Marcus.

"You were always so subtle, Marcus. It's a wonder you didn't go into politics."

"Better my brand of subtlety than Circe's brother's. Divorced from that wife yet, after the Polyjuice incident?" asked Marcus.

Damon snorted, "Not another 'It wasn't me, dear, it must have been Polyjuice!' excuses!"

Marcus was honestly shocked, "Good Lord, you didn't hear? It's better than that! Circe's brother found a blond hair on his pillow."

"Was it Lucius's?" Damon asked.

Marcus was flustered, "Stop interrupting! I was saying, Circe's brother and his wife of the month were both dark. He assumed she was having an affair with their neighbour."

"And that was idiotic - I've met him. He's a - nice chap," Circe said, sipping her drink. "Played on the Magpies. Invited me over to supper last week... Speaking of which, I better go and talk to him before I have to challenge you to a duel over my family's honour."

Marcus looked concerned. "You don't want me to talk about this?" he asked.

"If I didn't, I wouldn't have told you in the first place," Circe said. "Barty and I just don't want to be here when it happens! Gentlemen," she said, nodding her farewell while grabbing young Barty's elbow and steering him to a more restrained group.

*

"Circe, darling, may I have a word?" said Damon in her ear after she deposited her cousin with his parents and two of her aunt and uncle's friends.

"Certainly, Damon," she replied in a breathy whisper.

"I need to ask you a favour."

"Anything, Damon," she said with a lecherous smile.

"Darling, were you at all serious about my brother back there?" Damon asked, returning her smile.

"As serious as I am about anyone."

"Excellent," he purred, putting his arm around her shoulders. "The poor boy has been quite wound up this weekend, and needs a relaxing distraction tonight," he said, tracing his fingertips down her bare arm with deliberate slowness, and feeling the goose bumps as he stroked back up to her shoulder.

"All night?" Circe asked breathlessly, slowly smoothing her red silk skirt with both hands as she tried unsuccessfully to suppress a shiver of pleasure.

"No, my dear. Just an interlude. I'm sure you'll enjoy it," he said in a low voice, continuing his gentle assault on her nerves.

"And if I don't?" Circe inquired teasingly.

"Then I'll just have to find some way to make it up to you," Damon replied evenly.

"Excellent," Circe drawled. "You and your friends always have such delightful distractions. Speaking of friends, did you invite Moneypenny here tonight?"

"The Mudblood? In my home? No," Damon said with narrowed eyes, standing rigid and no longer stroking her arm as he scanned the room.

"You haven't seen him since summer, have you Damon? That dreadful time in Cyprus," pouted Circe.

"Cyprus was very educational. I met Lucius's in-laws there."

"Really? I would have thought they'd be at the wedding."

"I stayed longer than they - as a guest of the government."

"Poor Damon. Did they help you out?"

"I have yet to fully express my gratitude for their loving care, although I did make a start this morning. And I'm sure my friends in Cyprus will convey the full extent of my gratitude tonight," he said with a nasty smile.

*

Voldemort found Lucius in an unguarded moment. "Is there anything you need, Lucius?"

"I need my brother to disappear, but I'm not in a position to arrange it," said Lucius quietly. He had overheard one of Damon's jokes and it still smarted.

"Well, have patience. I have little divination skill, but I get the feeling your position is likely to change soon," Voldemort said as he turned Lucius around to face a colleague and melted into the crowd.

"Cornelius Fudge, it's good to see you. How was your Christmas?" Lucius asked.

"Splendid, Lucius. Thank you so much for the invitation. Now where is that wife you've been bragging about? I haven't met her yet, though it's not surprising since it seems everyone in the wizarding world is here tonight. I see your brother is still with his Quidditch gang. Keeping him out of trouble?"

Lucius laughed, and even to his own ear it sounded forced. "Trying to. Narcissa must be around here somewhere," he said scanning the room tensely until he saw her chatting with a witch near the band.

"You should get him married, Lucius. Nothing like a good wife to calm a man down."

"A good wife wouldn't go anywhere near my brother. You haven't heard the latest scandal?"

Fudge looked a little uncomfortable, "Not the.. you know. The same problem?"

"Much more embarrassing, I'm afraid. I shouldn't really tell you," said Lucius coyly.

"I understand. This will be strictly confidential," said Fudge seriously.

"Well, so long as you're discrete." Lucius recalled the joke he heard from Damon's crowd, and decided to switch some names for dramatic emphasis. Fudge wouldn't remember - probably. And no harm done if he did. "Damon and his friend were going through a rough patch. He found a blond hair on his pillow, and both of them are dark. Well, Damon planned a trap with Polyjuice. He said he was going out for the night, then went down into the cellar to take the potion. He put the hair in the glass, swallowed it, then waited to turn into his rival, and hopefully trap his lover "being with" another in the biblical sense. Well, he changed all right - into his love's sister. Lost his mind and even more beloved parts in one fell stroke."

"He was like that for an hour?"

"I would suppose - they found him in the cellar the next day. Catatonic - had to take him to St Mungo's. Although I think it was a ploy to move him out of the house..."

"I sympathize," said Fudge. "Although it's sad they couldn't stay together. I expect someone with Damon's reputation would have enjoyed watching." He exploded into laughter at his own lewd joke.

*

Narcissa looked up and nearly burst into tears of joy. "Cara Moneypenny! What are you doing here?" she said, embracing her old friend.

"I'm here with my father. He had to meet someone tonight, and everyone who's anyone is here, so he called in a few favours and got a late invitation."

"Oh, that's wonderful. It's so good to see you!" Narcissa said, holding her friend back to get a better look at her figure hugging green velvet robes. "You look fantastic - is the gown from Malkin's?"

"Thailand, actually. Who would have believed those oriental elves would take Celtic knots to this extreme? The embroidery's so heavy I swear it can stand up on its own! I'll have to pick one up for you when I get home. How's living in London?"

"Very nice - I can't wait to get back. Where are you living now? I thought you were in South America?"

"Thailand this month. Rio last. Wandering suits me - saves me from sticky relationships."

"You don't want to settle down?"

"If I ever see the world enough, I might. Or if I find a man who moves as much as I do."

"My mother did."

"If Daddy caught me with a Confederation trouble-shooter, he'd cast a Petrificus! on me until the next millennium! Darn shame, if you ask me. Daddy works with so many sexy beasts! You'd think growing up with them like we did would make us immune, but look at you, married and settled into domestic bliss with one of your father's ex-protégés and me desperately seeking one smart enough to sneak in under dad's radar!" At Narcissa's look of confusion, Cara laughed. "Sorry - one of Daddy's words - it's a kind of Muggle ward. Where are your parents, Narcissa? Are they here tonight?" Cara asked, scanning the room. "I need to ask Nathan how Lucius got by him."

"I don't know exactly. They were in Geneva for that Gringotts mess, then something came up and they went wandering two weeks ago," Narcissa said, trying to sound cheerful and almost succeeding.

Cara noticed her distress and the sudden invitation started to make sense. "That's who dad must be looking for! It makes more sense now. I can't say much - only that dad's connections traced them to the Mediterranean. They're close by, I know it."

"Greece, Egypt - lots of close places are unpleasant," said Narcissa soberly.

"Portofino, Cannes - lots are very nice, too! Don't worry, sweetie! They always turn up, and usually with a fantastic story, too! I thought you and Lucius were going to follow in their footsteps?"

"No, I think we've seen the world enough. That one time burned us badly."

"Was it really any rougher than this bunch?" said Cara, gesturing to the glittering crowd surrounding Damon. "I can't think your parents approve."

"Lucius loves me - they approve of that. As for the rest - I don't know. I expect they know as much about Damon as Sebastian does - especially what he's done out of the country. Neither one is likely to turn a blind eye. I think they had something to do with his extended stay in Cyprus this summer."

"Proactive - that's Nathan in a nutshell. Weddings are stressful enough for fathers, so I'm told, without reckless relatives mucking things up."

"It's certainly Dad's style - remove the problem before it happens. Still, I wish he cut this problem off at the neck instead of just getting it locked up and losing the paperwork for weeks. Who is your father meeting here, do you know?"

"Some friend of Damon's. A woman, I suspect. He asked me to wander off and give him some elbow room."

"I'm surprised. There are lots of dangerous people here tonight."

"I like dangerous men," said Cara, licking her lips and looking longingly in Damon's direction.

"You wouldn't like that one, Cara."

"Will he break my heart?" she said hungrily.

"Most likely, after he cuts it out to sell for potion ingredients. Now, if it's a heartbreaker you want, let me introduce you to the band. There's a dark eyed pianist you should meet," Narcissa said, grabbing her friend's elbow to manoeuvre her toward the piano.

"Does he write poetry?" Cara asked, primping her blonde curls with her fingers.

"Better - he quotes it. You don't have to pretend to like it and smother your giggles," said Narcissa with a smile.

"I love intellectuals! So free of bourgeois constraints."

"My friend, the freedom-fighter! Come on - let's see you start a revolution!"

*

Sebastian walked up to Lucius and grabbed his elbow. "I need your help, son," he said in a low voice, and steered him to a quiet corner where Damon stood with a very attractive witch. From the look of things, she had been enjoying herself a little too much.

"Lucius, fantastic! Can you help Circe back to her room? She's quite exhausted and we can't seem to find the Crouches," Damon said with a hint of humour.

"Why don't you do it? You're her friend," Lucius sneered.

"A very old, very dear friend of the family, Lucius. It might cause a scene if I took her upstairs alone."

"Lucius, just take her upstairs," Sebastian said impatiently. "We don't need you causing a scene, too."

"No, I need Narcissa first. I promised not to leave her without a wand tonight."

"I'll stay with Narcissa then," Damon said lazily.

"No!" Lucius and Sebastian said simultaneously. Lucius looked at his father sharply. "You knew," Lucius thought, remembering the jewels. Lucius looked at Sebastian accusingly and Sebastian had the grace to look uncomfortable.

"Lucius, I'll watch Narcissa. You and Damon take her upstairs together. The faster you go, the faster you'll be back. Hurry up now, boys," Sebastian said, walking back to his guests.

*

"Where are Narcissa's parents tonight, Lucius? I expected they'd be here?" said Circe, swaying slightly on her feet as she sipped her champagne.

"I'm not precisely sure," said Lucius said, helping her up the stairs. "The International Confederation sent them to Geneva negotiating an agreement between Gringotts and the Ministry. I think it had something to do with some Muggle Ministry, too. Lots of letters, exchange and interest rates - I confess arbitrage confounds me more than Ancient Runes! But then some trouble erupted they were dispatched again. The more dangerous it is, the less they tell her."

"You worked with the Confederation for a while, didn't you Lucius?" Damon said.

"Well, after that cock-up in Chile, I decided it wasn't for me. Narcissa was quite unhappy," Lucius said, thinking to himself, Mage-Muggle cooperation - how the Ministry lapped it up! "Just run on over and help the Muggles deal with the rowdy ghosts. The British Ministry is so much more effective dealing with problems like these." And I believed it all, right up until they introduced me to their Muggle tortures. Such a breakthrough - they worked on wizard and Muggle alike! What progress they made with their damned cooperation!"

"You worked with Nathan that time?" Damon asked.

"Yes, it was quite unnerving - I was his apprentice for the negotiations, but it suited his purposes to present me as lead negotiator. Adding to the problem of working with my future father-in-law, Narcissa and her mother showed up. Then all hell broke loose."

"I heard, they attacked the delegation?" Circe said.

"Thank goodness Nathan was there. He was the only one "paranoid" enough in the whole group. We were working with Muggles and wizards, thinking it was us against them, when in actuality no one was on our side - the Muggles and wizards alike were making people disappear and torturing them. We never suspected that Muggles would dare attack us. Young fools - every one of us! Thank goodness that old warhorse was there watching our backs."

"Unbelievable - Muggles and wizards? Together?" Circe said, her voice edged with disgust.

"They were all animals. It was disgusting - the lowest common denominator. It was like the Muggles infected them, brought them down to their level. No loyalty, no respect for life or dignity or traditions. The only respectable behaviour in the whole mess came from the ghosts."

"But now you're home, little brother, sucking contentedly at the Ministry's teat," teased Damon from Circe's other side.

Circe sniffed, "Well, at least you got out of there. We were all very proud. It's sad, but we can't have those people in our world."

"Quite right," Damon said. "Too dangerous. Look at what the terrorists are doing here. And they are our kind!" he said as he slipped out the door of Circe's room.

"No, we can't have them here," Lucius replied, walking the witch to her bed. "Animals. Give them political representation and they start claiming equality - the idea! The next person that tells me I'm equal to one of those creatures..." Lucius sneered and shook his head, "If I never see another Muggle in my life it will be too soon."

"Here - breathe deep," she said, waving a glass of champagne his nose. "A new year is just around the corner. Fresh and clean with no mistakes in it."

"No mistakes in it, yet," Lucius said firmly, taking the glass from her and putting it onto the nightstand. Circe was looking decidedly more sober.

"I've depressed you. Come, let's have a dance! Or maybe I can figure out another way to cheer you up..."

*

Narcissa was trying to run interference between Cara Moneypenny's father, John, and her missing friend. She wasn't worried about where Cara was, but she didn't want a protective father like John walking in on a distinctly non-musical interlude. So she talked to him about her elusive parents. "I expected an owl yesterday, or a firecall, but they must have been busy. They did send a vague note last weekend in a Christmas card, but no details where they were," she said.

"Perhaps they are just giving you and Lucius a little breathing room. It's hard to know how involved adult children want you to be, how much they want you in their lives," he replied carefully.

"Doesn't seem to stop Sebastian," Narcissa said with a trace of bitterness.

"The Malfoys are an unusually close family. Sebastian needs another wife to distract him. I swear part of the reason Damon is such a hellion is purely to entertain his father," John sighed, scanning the room for Cara.

Narcissa was struck with how little had changed - she might as well have been nine again, sitting in her grandmother's house in Aberdeen. She couldn't stand it - couldn't stand her parents' friend pretending everything was fine, that Damon wasn't an animal, that everything was under control, that everyone was perfectly safe. Her temper flared, but she kept her voice low and controlled. "John, you don't have to do this. I know about Damon. Cara told me what you're trying to do tonight, and I'm grateful."

"We'll find them, Narcissa. Don't worry," John said, then realized from the stricken look that flashed across her face that her had fallen into her trap, and cursed his own carelessness.

The nagging fear she had been denying was confirmed! It was an official search. They were really missing - not just working quietly. "I won't if you won't," she said with difficulty.

"Narcissa, I've known you since you were a baby. You can take this. You've been through it before. We all have. They'll turn up. There's nothing to worry about."

"Except Damon's friends."

John was silent for a moment - he wanted to comfort her, but there was precious little comfort to offer. "We know it isn't Damon - he was in Ireland when they

left, and came here directly after. We're close to the ones who are behind it."

"Who then, me? The Ministry? Lucius?" she snapped, shaking her head at her own loss of control. "I apologise. I've no right to take this out on you."

"No offence taken," John said gently, then he laughed and tried to change the subject. "And no offence against your husband, my dear, but old Sebastian would go mad with boredom if all he had to occupy his day was keeping tabs on what trouble Lucius was in. Still, it must be a blessing to Sebastian to have one child he can let run about without a lead." Looking around and seeing Cara slipping back into the room with her new friend, he sighed, "I wish I had one. Excuse me, Narcissa," he said, kissing her cheek. "I've got to run. I'll be in touch," he said, walking toward the door.

*

Narcissa's head was still spinning with the news that even John didn't know where her parents were. Heading outside to clear her head, she met Mr. and Mrs Crouch at the French doors, getting some air after a particularly vigorous tango. Mr Crouch and Barty went to fetch the ladies drinks and returned with Sebastian and two glasses of Jocularity Juice - a popular party potion. As he handed one to Narcissa, his wife protested, "Oh, no, Barty! She can't drink that - she's having a baby!"

"I beg your pardon?" Narcissa said with a frozen smile, her cheeks going a little pale.

"I'm sorry - sometimes visions just bubble out of me! Thank goodness it's happy news - a beautiful boy, Mrs Malfoy!"

Damon walked up and Narcissa's stomach gave an unpleasant lurch. "Narcissa, dear, have you seen Lucius? I haven't seen him for ages. Hello, Father."

If possible, Narcissa lost even more colour. "It is a bit of a shock, Mrs Crouch. I had no idea. Are you sure?" she asked, ignoring Damon.

"My wife is a Seer - quite gifted in Divination and Arithmancy. Decorated for her work with the Enigma project during the war. If she says you're having a baby, you can trust it is so," Bartemius Crouch said with a smile. "Just be glad she didn't send you the news in code!"

The room started to spin and Narcissa thought she was going to be sick. Mrs Crouch was still speaking, "A beautiful boy - dark hair and eyes, the image of his..." The buzzing of the crowd and the music was drowned out by the blood roaring in her ears, so that she barely heard Mrs Crouch say, "...grandfather."

Damon grabbed her elbow and she stiffened. Imagine a pillar of strength, Narcissa, steel and ice, straight through your spine. And breathe. She was able to suppress the shaking and nausea, but she couldn't hide the pallor of her face.

Sebastian looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "That explains why we didn't see you this morning. Congratulations, Narcissa. I'll make an announcement."

"Please don't. I'm quite superstitious about such things. And Lucius doesn't know yet."

"Then we'll tell him."

"No, I must insist," she said, fighting for control and gently pulling her elbow from Damon's grasp.

"Damon, fetch your brother," Sebastian commanded with a stern look at his son. Narcissa was still upset with Damon. Small wonder if he took her wand. Still upset with Sebastian, too, if her choice of jewels meant anything. "No truce yet? Well, it will come soon enough. You're the mother of my grandson now, not just the chit who stole Lucius from his home. Now we're stuck with each other. Welcome to the family," he thought.

Damon left without a word. She should acquiesce now before Lucius was dragged into this insanity. Sebastian was going to win - the fight wasn't worth it. Sebastian wanted to upset her - he didn't need to hurt Lucius. Who the hell was she trying to fool? Of course he did. He lived for it. Bastard.

Lucius appeared at her elbow, Damon following a step behind with Voldemort.

"Yes, Father?" Lucius asked.

"Lucius, Mrs Crouch tells me your wife is going to have a baby soon. Congratulations," Sebastian said.

To his credit, Lucius took everything in with a short look and kept his voice impassive. "Thank you, Father," he said, reaching out his hand to grab his wife's icy fingers. "And thank you for this happy news, Mrs Crouch."

Relieved at a normal reaction from someone, Mrs Crouch tried again to offer happy news, "A beautiful boy, in August."

"I'll have to let them know at the Ministry that your summer holidays will be harder to schedule than normal, Lucius!" said Mr. Crouch with a grin.

"Still with the M.L.E., Crouch?" Sebastian asked, looking at Voldemort. "Any luck tracking down those idiot terrorists yet?"

"We've had some successes, but they are in such small groups, with no apparent leadership! If we could track down and eliminate the head of this movement, the little cells would shrivel up and die of their own accord."

"Most of the things that crawl out of the sewer die in the light of day," said Sebastian coldly. His eyes still on Voldemort, he muttered, "Vermin, all of them. I hear they're even using Unforgivables."

"And to make matters worse, my Aurors have no deterrent power! They can't even use the same curses which are being directed at them to protect themselves!"

Sebastian sounded outraged, "That's ridiculous! These people are risking their lives to bring these vermin to justice, to protect us, and we don't even grant them the latitude to do their jobs? Lucius, what can we do about this stupidity?"

"I'll look into it, Father. I'm sure if there is anything Mr. Crouch needs, we will do everything in our power to help him get it."

"Thank you, Lucius, Sebastian. We need right-thinking people to band together in times like these. The price of safety. The sooner we neutralise them, the sooner things can get back to normal."

*

Lucius led Narcissa through the terrace doors to get some air outside. It was charmed against the cold, but he could see her shivering. "Moonlight becomes you," he said seductively, taking off his velvet outer robe and wrapping her in it.

"It goes better with your hair than mine," she replied, her hands clutching the edge of the robe near her neck.

Lucius could feel her still shivering under his arm. "I'm fairly sure pregnancy doesn't cause chills. Are you all right?" he asked in a low voice.

"Where were you?" she replied, pulling a long dark hair off the robe with her gloved fingers. She turned away from him to look at the moon's reflection on the frozen lawn as soulful music drifted across the terrace.

"I suspect Damon arranged an interlude for me. No doubt he intended you to walk in on something torrid."

"Did you enjoy yourself?" she asked without emotion.

"No. I would have rather been with you. Truth be told, I suspect we both did."

"Variety is losing its attraction?"

"Now that I've been to Paris, it's getting harder to enjoy the country. Damon's friend was a little too aggressive for my taste."

She sniffed the coat and wrinkled her nose. "And a little too aromatic for my taste. What is this, myrrh?"

"Your nose is more sensitive than mine. I suspect there was a potion involved."

"Polyjuice? Anyone interesting-looking?"

"Nothing that well planned." He swept her into his arms for a slow dance. "You're not upset, surely?"

"Lucius, you know how I feel. How you entertain yourself is entirely your affair, not mine, but I need to know where you are. Not who, not what, just where." She closed her eyes and shook her head, "It's foolish, I know..."

"But you're Nathan's and Vanessa's daughter, primed to haul my careless hide back out of trouble, should I need rescuing? I don't plan on getting caught again. I didn't much care for that kind of excitement."

"Please don't talk about trouble. John Moneypenny was here tonight, searching for my parents. I don't want to think about excitement anymore. Ever. I won't let you disappear."

"You'll never lose me."

"I'd better not. I'll track you to hell just so I can turn around and curse you back there again."

"Truly, Narcissa, you are your mother's daughter," he said as he waltzed her across the terrace in the moonlight. Feeling her stiffen at his words, he tried to think of something to say - and couldn't think of a thing. At the end of the song she was still shaking. She snuggled into his chest and they held each other in the moonlight, swaying to the next song. "We'll go home tomorrow, after the Hippike," he said when the music stopped.

"But your father..." Narcissa began.

"This weekend was too much. We both need a rest. Don't you want to go home?"

"You are my home."

The party was starting to break up. The guests who were not staying over were making their way to the door, and others were bidding them goodnight as they went upstairs. They stood at the foot of the stairs together, saying goodbye for a while, until Lucius thought they could make a quiet retreat. He didn't even go to his own room, but walked Narcissa to hers and shut the door behind them. She dimmed the lights and started to go behind the screen to change. Feeling playful, Lucius quietly followed her back there to help. He watched her hungrily as she changed, uncomfortably aware of his own overdressed state. He stood still as a statue watching her, until she let her hair down and shook it over her shoulders. Unable to restrain himself another moment, he took a silent step closer, and gently reached out to touch her unbound hair. Narcissa gave a startled yelp and whirled on him, knocking over the screen, trying to get away. She stared at him, wide eyed with fear. Narcissa, afraid? Could pregnancy do this?

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she said tensely.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing. I love you." I do love you. You're Lucius. No one else. She was breathing too fast.

"You're overwrought - You need to rest. I'll leave."

"No, don't leave me alone!" she said desperately. She took a long slow breath to get control of herself. "I'm sorry." Get control of yourself. You're scaring him.

"You need to rest."

"I will. I promise," she said quickly, gripping the bedpost as if for support.

"You're hysterical."

"Lucius, stay with me tonight; I need you. Please - no more drama. Just stay." Then she crumpled in tears.

He sat on the bed and rocked her back and forth as she sobbed. She knew how he hated tears, but he stayed. In a twisted, perverted way, this was far more satisfying than sex. Far more intimate. She knew he could have sex with people without even knowing their names, let alone liking them, but this act was for her alone. He would never put up with this behaviour from anyone else. And she would never allow herself to break down in front of anyone else. Baptized in tears - welcome to the family, Lucius. A cup of wormwood to celebrate a communion of souls. It was cleansing, and exhausting. She wondered briefly at his forbearance - he would never make a scene like that. He was uncomfortable enough just witnessing hers. His gift to her - collecting tears more precious than gold. It was her last thought before she collapsed into an exhausted sleep.

He settled her on the pillows and curled around her. "Only to sleep. When you wake in the morning, I'll be gone," he thought. He rubbed her back and stroked her hair until her breathing got deeper and more even. When she slept he would leave. But he didn't. He wondered what - it wasn't important. When she wanted to talk she could talk. Until then, he'd let her rest. It's the little things we don't tell each other that keep a family together.