Entry tags:

!myfanfics, *[hp] draco malfoy, *[hp] lucius malfoy, *[hp] narcissa (black) malfoy, .buttfacemakani, fanfic, fic.length: fic: oneshot

[FIC] Fine Once More. NM/LM, DM. PG.
TITLE: Fine Once More
AUTHOR: Jessi, princessjessia (Disclaimer)
FANDOM: Harry Potter
CHARACTERS: Narcissa/Lucius, Draco
SUMMARY: Lucius leaves on a mission and Narcissa waits for his return. 1980.
RATING: PG
WORD COUNT: 1,917
WARNINGS: None, really, save a bit of blood mentioned.
NOTES: Based on this piece of Malfoy art by the wonderful and talented buttfacemakani because she is the most talented artist EVER! And her Malfoy pieces are just sublime.



The motions were all the same on this night, as with every time Lucius was called away, dressed in black and masked from view. Narcissa kissed him goodbye before that mask went into place with just the right instinctive and wholly female edge to the kiss. It was a kiss to inspire a sense of longing within him, to bring him back home to her. A weak and unnecessary ploy, to be certain, but one they both understood and would not trade. That kiss would be what she comforted herself with during the long, sleepless night ahead and that kiss would be the purity on his lips amidst the death and destruction he and his brethren of the dark would wreck upon the wizarding world.

“Lucius, be…”

“Careful, I know. I will be fine, Cissa, I always am.”

Words to tempt the fates with, Narcissa was certain, but she never uttered that thought aloud. Despite what he said, they both knew that he was just as likely not to return because of capture or death. It was their life in the quest to keep power in the hands of the Malfoys and assure their family would never be at risk. Except, they truly had no power when it came to the Dark Lord. For so long as they followed and Lucius wore the Mark, their Lord owned them all.

They stood together at the door to the side entrance of the Manor and she adjusted his mask carefully before she stepped back and watched him leave. Her last vision was of grey eyes shadowed by mask holes, but still revealing the love held in their depths. His was the pale skin of her fair cheek and the too-bright azure eyes that would steady him in the deepest of danger. He knew the tears glimmering there would fall when he left, but he would be back to catch the others.

He always was.

At the sound of a cry, Narcissa moved quickly away as she silently walked along the corridors of the Manor. Some of the portraits roused from their slumber as she passed, a few giving her dark looks as if to question the lady of the house awake at such an hour and others giving her sympathetic looks. They knew what she waited for and some of them understood it all too well, having seen it before and knowing they would see it again. She made her way up the staircase, fingers trailing absently along the ancient marble before she walked down the upstairs corridor. In clothing and hair of pale shades, she appeared somewhat ephemeral as the shadows cast over her, as though she were a ghost searching for the reason she stayed held to this world.

Narcissa entered the room she and Lucius shared and leaned over the ornate crib near the bed. Her blonde head bumped a hanging decoration of glittering stars and moving dragons suspended above the crib, causing the tiny creatures to puff a bit of smoke. She murmured softly to the red-faced infant within in an attempt to settle him without further disturbing his rest. When his cries did not cease, she gathered up the baby, stroking wisps of palest blonde on his tiny head as she bounced him lightly.

“Shh, Draco, Mummy’s here,” she cooed gently against a pale forehead, breathing in the distinctive baby scent and willing it to comfort her. At the sound of his mother’s voice so close to his ear, Draco opened his eyes, revealing orbs that greyed by the day from the blue like her own they had been at birth. A tiny hand reached out and fisted in the soft blue silk of her nightgown as the cries ceased.

As it was with these nights, it seemed the child would not be soothed back into slumber so easily and would likely cry again if she laid him back down, so she held him close and moved from the room once more. The infant in her arms seemed unable to fall asleep upstairs yet again, as though he sensed the loss of the forceful presence that normally slumbered somewhere in the room with him. She was certain that her son did notice the lack of Lucius in the room, from the soft rumble of a smooth voice with the utterance of the words ‘little dragon’ to the warm weight of a masculine hand on his cheek with a thumb held in the air above tiny lips, close enough to feel the brush of sweet baby breath before his hand was lifted. She knew her son was unsettled by Lucius’ absence just as she was, but without all the fears and brutal images that accompanied her own unease.

Eyes on her child this time, instead of unseeing eyes from looking inward as they had been when she passed this way moments before, she did not see the looks the portraits gave her again, but that did not stop the images from giving them. She went into one of the downstairs sitting rooms, sinking into a plush armchair and resettling Draco in the crook of her arm. Tiny eyelids, fringed with translucent lashes, fluttered open and shut as Narcissa’s finger traced his cheek with a feather-light touch until a tiny fist grasped the moving finger. She bowed her head and kissed his small nose, already in miniature so very much like the man they both waited for right now.

For quite some time, the hours counted in every excruciating second in Narcissa’s mind, she sat there and held the future of the Malfoy family who was asleep once more from the warmth and safety that surrounded him. Try as she might to ignore such thoughts as she had each time they sat in this same spot, the child nestled in her arms might be all she had left when morning came. It was a fear that would never die and would only be silenced when Lucius returned.

‘If’ her mind taunted in the still of the darkened room, ‘if he returns.’

She shook her head to banish the thought, displacing strands of blonde from their resting place. She would be strong and have faith in his abilities and she would not dwell on the ‘what ifs.’ Yet, she did and would continue to do so despite the determination to not succumb to fretting within and allow it to consume her. It was only a part of her whole and she could not allow it to rule her… but she still let it have rein to needle at her with images of injury and death as she waited for her life to begin again on nights such as this. Leaning forward, she laid Draco in the cradle, rocking the custom-made creation gently to lull him back to sleep at the disturbance. This time he went easily back into the clutches of slumber in a room not ringing so loudly with the absence of his father when associated with sleep.

When the infant was still once more, small body moving gently with the rise and fall of breath, Narcissa left her chair and began to pace. Time passed by slowly to her, each second adding to the dread that always built in the dark of the room and the doubt in her mind. When tapping came at the window, she nearly cried out from the way it startled her, but stopped the sound from escaping with an elegant hand pressed hard against slightly parted lips. Gaze fell on the owl perch outside and her stomach churned nervously, both with the hope the paper would somehow reveal the fate of her husband and with dread over the very same thing. She opened the window and retrieved the paper, closing the pane of glass and watching the creature fly off in the direction of the pinkening sky on the horizon. She did not look down at the parchment held lightly and carefully in her hands as she moved to check on her child.

Bracing herself, she unfurled the newspaper and allowed her eyes to at last read the bold black text on the page.

DEATH EATER ATTACK
DOZENS DEAD ON BOTH SIDES

The tangible sense of what she very well could have lost on this night filled her as she stared at the newspaper, willing the words away. This was not the confirmation she had been looking for and she found herself wildly wishing for just a few moments ago before the rap on the window. The parchment began to rustle, slightly at first and then more violently and she realized her hands were shaking visibly. She dropped the parchment as though it burned her delicate skin and stepped back several steps from it, head shaking slightly in the negative in denial. She collapsed into the chair by Draco’s cradle, burying her face in her hands before pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes to stem the flow of tears.

She could not give in to the overwhelming sobs building; she had to be strong for her child. He was likely all she had left now and she had to be strong. She was a Black and a Malfoy and no matter what the world threw at her, she would come out on the other side of it with her head held high. Yet, that mantra did not stop the things inside of her that felt as though they were dying at the thought of her husband’s possible demise. Fear gripped her heart like a vise and she moved one hand to her chest, willing her breathing to stay steady.

The sound of footsteps made her snap her head up quickly and eyes roved over the masked and robed figure that entered the room as waves of relief hit her. His mask was jagged at the top, a spot that corresponded with the rip in his hood and the blood on his face. His blood. She knew it was his, just as she knew that the blood on his sleeve was another’s. There was blood, but he was alive.

“Lucius!” She uttered his name in a harsh whisper, conscious of her sleeping son as she rose from the chair and flung herself at her husband. Pale and shaking hands clutched a fistful of fabric at his shoulder and curled around his neck as she laid her head down on his chest. She sagged against him slightly, fighting the sobs and tears of relief that threatened to fall with increasing force. Beneath the robes to which death and destruction clung to, a heart beat and her focus was on that fact alone. He had returned.

Wrapping an arm around her and holding her shaking form close to him, Lucius removed his mask, his gaze falling first to his son. The breath he expelled relaxed a tiny bit of tension in the set of his shoulders and then his eyes flickered to the table behind her.

“I’m fine,” he said tiredly, casting a disgusted look over the top of golden blonde hair at the offending copy of the Daily Prophet laying across the table where she had dropped it. He held her closer, breathing her in, allowing the scent of all that was the antithesis of what he had done this night to wipe out the other scents that lingered. He bowed his head next to hers, lips kissing away the tears that fell.

“I told you, I always am.”