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Behind Closed Doors	By : AnnaChase Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Narcissa Views: 5101 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
Chapter Seven: The Aftermaths of War
"Treachery and violence are spears pointed at both ends; they wound those who resort to them worse than their enemies."

-Emily Brontë
Whatever mission it was Bella and Rodolphus had planned for themselves, Narcissa did not know. What she did know, was that they did not return. She had tried to contact them several times, but no reply ever came. And so the Malfoys found themselves facing yet another sleepless night. It was nearing midnight, and Narcissa paced the drawing room with a sleeping Draco in her arms. He had awoken from a nightmare earlier and she preferred to keep him close to her. He was eighteen months old now. His little, warm body against her heart made it easier to keep hope, even if she knew deep down that all was lost. Bella had seen this coming, and had still taken the risk. Narcissa could not understand. The Dark Lord was gone. Lucius said so. Everybody said so. It had felt like such a relief at first, when she thought it was all over. Now it seemed everything was starting again, with different fears equally distressing.

“Cissa, you must go to bed,” Lucius stood in the doorframe of the drawing room she was pacing. “And put the baby down, it’s almost midnight.” He spoke quietly so he would not wake their sleeping son, but Narcissa could hear the strain in his voice. He didn’t want any of this. He probably thought Bella was best off in Azkaban. Or worse.

“Something’s happened to her, Lucius,” she replied, not ceasing the pacing. It gave her a way to deal with her nerves. “They’ve been caught, they must have been,” her voice broke as she stated the obvious. But there were so many questions, still. They had to be sure. Had to know if Bella was still alive at least. People always said going to Azkaban was worse than death, but Narcissa just wanted her sister alive. “I want you to go and find out what’s happened,” she breathed, tears rolling down her eyes. She was a Black and a Malfoy, those did not cry. But she cried tonight. There were special circumstances tonight that appeared to justify every out of ordinairy behaviour.

“I am not a fool, Narcissa!” Lucius crossed the room and made her stand still, his hands resting on her shoulders. “To get caught red-handed, looking for the two Death Eaters most wanted by the Ministry? Is that what you want for me, after all we’ve been through?”

He sounded so angry. More like ever before. If this was over, if it ever would be, what would remain of her husband then?

“I need to know what’s happened to Bella,” she whispered in response. Draco stirred in her arms, but he did not wake. He was ever a sound sleeper, preferring to surround himself in the comforting world of dreamland while the real world crumbled around him. If only his mother would have had that same talent.

“I have done so much for you. I never hesitated to do anything you’ve asked of me. This is all I would ever ask of you,” Narcissa continued, no longer attempting to hide the tears in her eyes. This was despair at its highest.

And he complied. This one time, Lucius Malfoy agreed to meet the demands of his wife. Despite everything. For her. Not for Bellatrix, but for Narcissa. So that she may find some peace, if she still had it in her. When he returned to the Manor, Narcissa had fallen asleep on the sofa in the drawing room. She looked so young in sleep. The war had aged them all, but Narcissa really was only a girl of nineteen. In sleep, it was as if she had no worries. As if she were perfectly happy. Lucius knew that would all change once he woke her, and he hated that change.

“Cissa...” he spoke her name quietly as he crouched by her. He reached out to stroke a strand of hair behind her ear.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. When she landed back into the land of the living, she remembered immediately what was going on. Pushing his hand off her, she sat up. “Do you have news?” she inquired. “Have you found out what’s happened to them?”

“I have...” Lucius sat back on his heels and studied his wife’s response. “I am afraid... we must consider your sister gone. And Rodolphus too. And Barty Crouch.”

Narcissa was so agitated lately, so full of anxieties. Lucius feared this would ruin her. Like the war had ruined him. He was a different man now; a man he did not like.

She looked lost for the moment, her eyes wide in disbelief. Her small body starting to tremble. Of all things, this was among the things she had feared the most. To lose one of the people she loved so dearly. Bella, what would she be without Bella? Her dear sister. So unkind to anyone but her. The sister who had raised her, while her mother was only interested in new pregnancies that might result in the so needed male heir.

She only responded when she felt her husband’s lips on hers. “Cissa, love, you mustn’t be afraid. We can get through this. You have me, still.”

“No!” Narcissa sobbed, pulling away in a reflex. She stood up and started pacing the room as she had before, unable to find rest. “We must do something! She’ll have a trial, won’t she? We’ll testify! If she pleads innocent, we can tell them she was under the Imperius curse!” She spoke her words very rapidly, barely pausing to breathe in between sentences. Everything was falling apart and so was she.

“Narcissa, cease that,” Lucius strode over to stop her paces, setting her on the sofa. “Pull yourself together, you are being hysterical. You know better than this,” he spoke firmly. He was unused to berating his wife like a child, but if she continued to behave like this he had no choice but to intervene.

Narcissa knew she was upsetting herself, but for the first time she could not control herself. She was almost hyperventilating, her breathing fast and irregular. “You have to do something,” she whimpered, clinging to his hand.

“Shh now,” Lucius poured her a glass of wine. “You know very well there is nothing we can do against the Dementors. This day has lasted far too long already. Go upstairs and drink this. I’ll be up shortly. I need a moment to recollect myself.”

She could tell he was unimpressed with her behaviour, but how could he understand? Lucius had never loved anyone in his family like she loved Bella.
She did go upstairs as recommended. After a quick check up on Draco, peacefully dreaming in his crib in the nursery, she went to bed. She sipped the wine in the hope that it would calm her nerves, and then stepped into bed fully-clothed. She had no energy to change. She had no energy for anything. She curled up into foetus position, hugging her knees to her chest while she sobbed quietly. Lucius wouldn’t tolerate such weakness. But it was dark and she cried without noise; nothing he would be able to hear downstairs. She wished she were stronger. Bella had said she was stronger than she knew, but how was this being strong? She went to pieces without her sister, and Lucius understood none of it. If anything, she was sure her response bothered him. And she could not decide which was worse.

When Lucius finally came up, Narcissa had shed many tears. Her pillow was soaked, but she felt too tired to cry more. Instead, she simply stared into the darkness of the room.

“Have you calmed down?” Lucius asked, not unkindly, while he prepared himself for bed.

“Yes,” Narcissa responded in barely more than a whisper. She did not blame him for his disapproval of her emotions. Anyone that had grown up with only Abraxas Malfoy would have lacked healthy emotional responses. And she herself had been brought up in much the same way, save for the fact that her own father had always doted on her as his youngest daughter.

“I am sorry about your sister, you know,” Lucius finally said as he joined her in the bed.

Narcissa could feel his arms around her from behind and turned on her back so that she could face him.

“Bella made her choices. We’ve opted for the more safe one,” he ran his fingers through her hair. “We shall make things better together, Cissa. This is a new start.”

“It’s not a new start without Bella,” she whispered, unable to join his optimism. She would need time. “Are you sure there’s nothing you can do? At the trial..”

“Shh,” he cut her off with a kiss, attempting to take her mind off things by showing just how they could make a fresh start together.

“Lucius, no. Not tonight,” she pushed him off her, weakly. She could sense he had had too much Firewhiskey. It was on his breath, and his eyes appeared bloodshot, too. It was highly unlike Lucius to drink too much. Of course they did appreciate fine wines and he had a collection of the most excellent brandies and Firewhiskeys, but he always knew where to draw the limit. Tonight must have been especially hard on him.

Much to her shock, he did not retreat. Instead, she felt him on top of her, his strength and weight not a match to her own.

“Lucius, you’re hurting me,” she gasped.

“I have needs, Narcissa. And if you continue like this, our household will be the laughing stock of society. Your sister is mad,” he breathed against her, irresponsive to her struggles. “It is about time you start seeing that. You’re my wife, not a Lestrange, nor a Black anymore.”

If anything, Narcissa was too shocked to even respond. This wasn’t really happening. It must be a bad dream. And yet everything felt frighteningly real as she felt his rough hands lift up her dress, and tear off her panties. A dry sob left her throat.

“You cannot continue like this. You’re one step away from people knowing your loyalty lies with your sister. What do you think they’ll say? I work harder than anyone at the Ministry to clear my name, and you’d give that all up. Do I mean nothing to you? And what about our son?”

She cried out when he entered her. It was too shocking, too appalling to grasp. Lucius. Her husband. She had trusted him. She had thought she loved him, and he her. They would have had a chance together, once her grief over her sister’s imprisonment improved. How dare he bring their son into this. She would do anything for Draco.

“Please! Luciust, stop!” she exclaimed, struggling against his grip. His hands were tight on her shoulders, pushing her down into the mattress as he took his pleasure from her reluctant body. It hurt now more than ever, her body unable to adjust without the slightest arousal for lubrication. But that pain was not the worst. The pain she felt at being so utterly disappointed in her husband was much, much worse.

It did not take long for him to finish. His breathing came fast and irregular, barely recovering when he finally rolled off of her after spilling his seed inside of her.

She was left broken. And yet it was hard to decide which of them was worse off. He might not know it now, but this had ruined him, too, and whatever life he had pictured for the both of them. He said nothing. Narcissa could only hope he was ashamed of himself and what he had done. It was how she felt. Ashamed, and dirty. But she daren’t move, afraid to enrage his anger again or to encourage him for a repeat performance somehow. She wouldn’t be able to handle that.

Very quietly she laid there, breathing as slowly as she could. It took all of her power to stop herself from trembling uncontrollably. When she was finally sure he was asleep, she stood up and made her way into the bathroom. Not the one adjacent to their room, but another one, attached to one of the suites. If there was anything she needed right now, it was to be alone. Hands trembling, she turned on the shower and stepped under it, pulling the remainders of her clothes off in the process. The hot water burned her skin, but she embraced the feeling. She needed for it to cleanse her. Allowing it to mix with her tears, she sank down to her knees as she cried. This life, she had been so proud of it. She had been so proud to call Lucius her husband, but now she wished they had never met.

Narcissa stayed in the shower for a long time. She had no idea how long, exactly, but when she got out finally her skin was red and raw, her legs barely able to carry her. All she could think of was how none of this would ever be the same. And how none of this would have happened with her sister still around.
- 6
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Behind Closed Doors