Part V

V.

Summer Again

1998

All eyes in the Great Hall were fixed on the young lion circling the ageing, wounded manticore, wondering who would strike first...all eyes but Lucius's and Draco's.

She and Lucius had found Draco, Merlin knew how, and immediately realised something was wrong. Though he appeared unhurt, the look he gave her...remorse and shame mixed with his relief...made her ask, 'What is it?'

'Your wand,' he whispered. 'It's gone. Fiendfyre.'

Three things had happened almost at once.

First, she and Lucius exchanged a look, both of them knowing they were now all defenceless in the midst of a battle.

Second, she heard a wild, exhilarated laugh, both familiar and alien, and turned to see her sister fall.

Third, Potter appeared and challenged the Dark Lord.

Now she could feel Lucius and Draco tracking her movements, which went unnoticed by everyone else. For the shy girl who had faded so easily into the background, the cunning woman who knew how to keep out of the way in her own home, it was nothing to move unseen through a crowd of people. It was a matter of control, using only the mind to scatter one's own substance and make it ephemeral, imperceptible; it was nothing more difficult than a tightrope walk across a spider's web or keeping a family together. It was nothing, in short, that she had not done before. Lucius alone guessed her purpose and let her go.

She spared a glance at Weasley's wife and wondered if Severus had ever repeated to the Order of the Phoenix the words she had dropped like Sickles in a wounded moment. She blew her regrets away like a head of dandelion seeds and let the weeds take root elsewhere. She counted the steps, thirty in all, her ears open the entire time (Severus Snape wasn't yours. Snape was Dumbledore's.), knowing that if Potter could not pull this off, her life was forfeit.

A mother's magic is wandless, wordless; a mother's summons must be answered. The empty-eyed shell who was no longer Bella did not need a wand, but the last of the Blacks did, and Bella owed her this much. Thirty steps there and thirty steps back, while the crowd watched the show, expectant breath held in hundreds of lungs. Father and son observed this with their eyes averted, so as not to give her away, and understood.

It wasn't the sight of Voldemort's body that told her she was free; it was the whisper of dying magic at her throat that announced her millstone had been lifted.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Narcissa set down the morning Prophet, not knowing whether to laugh or Stupefy herself.

There was to be a truth-telling commission.

Shacklebolt was quoted, something about how Muggles had used such commissions to great effect after one of their dirty wars. As if anyone needed further proof that the new Minister was mad.

It had been two weeks since the final battle.

(Potter!)

Two weeks since she and Lucius had run panicked through the fire to find Draco.

(No...damn you, take your hands off me. Where is he? Potter!)

Two weeks since the Dark Lord made the ultimate capitulation.

(Get me Potter, I said. He knows! He will explain.)

Two weeks since Narcissa had watched her sister killed like an animal by a blood traitor, a mother protecting her child.

(Listen to me, we need Potter. No, you are not taking him anywhere until I talk to Potter.)

Two weeks since Severus's lifeless body disappeared from a deserted hovel in Hogsmeade...stolen and disposed of by Death Eaters, according to the Prophet.

(Potter! For Merlin's sake, tell them.)

Truth-telling commission, really. It was a charade, of course. And though she wanted no part of it, she knew they'd be asked to parade themselves before this commission and the attendant media, to make an adequate display of contrition. It was not her own fate that preoccupied her. The whole process could take months before they were called upon, and there was always the risk that Lucius and Draco would be considered enemy combatants, to be incarcerated until it was time for their testimony. Unless she acted now.

She pushed her breakfast plate aside, her food untouched, and took the Prophet with her up to her study. Later today she would sit down and pen three letters: One to Sextus, one to Shacklebolt, and one to Potter. She would run the first two by Lucius before sending them.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Narcissa stood in the doorway of Bella's room, unsure what she was doing there.

The room was not exactly as Bella had left it; not knowing Miss Bella would never return, the elves had been in to clean. The curtains were open, and white-yellow shafts of summer light pressed into the room like mourners at an overcrowded funeral. Bella had been in the ground more than a week now, and her own funeral had been attended by exactly three people. Burying her, Narcissa found herself dry-eyed and curiously empty. Or perhaps only relieved, and thus guilt-ridden.

It was the guilt that now turned her into a trespasser in her own home, driven by a niggling memory of Bella in the safe room beneath the drawing room during a Ministry raid so long ago. The guilt mixed with the same awe she had felt as a girl in entering her big sister's space when Bella was not there. But she otherwise felt surprisingly little at violating Bella's privacy...she had offered Narcissa little enough of that over the last year.

Bella's personal effects were no longer concealed, there having been no need since the fall of the Ministry the previous summer, so the room at least appeared to have been lived in. The attached dressing room still contained Bella's clothes, which were few. The vanity table was uncluttered; on its top lay only a hairbrush and one of Bella's throwing knives. The bed's hangings were snowy white, dust-free and shining, the covers undisturbed. A light scent of bergamot still hung in the air, with a quiet sulphurous undertone, the scent Narcissa had come to associate with her sister. Narcissa ran her hand over the stiff coverlet and wondered how well Bella had ever slept here.

There were only so many places one could look. Narcissa began by trying the drawers of the bedside tables, which were stuck fast, as were the drawers of the vanity. Using Bella's wand, she cast as many opening spells as she could think of, and still the drawers did not open. But though they refused to budge, at least they did not release a curse, as Narcissa might have expected. She sat on the bed to think, casting her eyes over the room and considering whether to call Lucius, who knew far more than she about concealment magic. It was the throwing knife on the vanity top that gave her the idea.

She picked up the knife and pressed one wickedly sharp point into the pad of her middle finger and watched the blood form a large drop before she brushed it over the lock on the topmost vanity drawer on the right-hand side.

It was as easy as that.

Narcissa doubted whether anyone else's blood would have opened the drawer...Draco's perhaps, but then again, perhaps not. Inside the drawer lay Bella's wedding album, and on top of that, a small leather-bound book. It was thicker than she remembered. She picked it up and opened it to a random page, which was covered with rows of names and dates, and columns marked 'charges' and 'punishment(s)'. Narcissa recognised one or two of the names and felt a sickening vertigo. She turned the page, which contained more of the same columns. Similar pages took up half the book, but random jottings and doodles were interspersed throughout. Towards the middle, Narcissa came across a page that was blank but for the inscription:

Mother. 13th March, 1986.

Turning the page, Narcissa was surprised to find her own birth date written there, along with the words 'favourite flowers?'. She could not remember Bella asking about her birthday or acknowledging it in any way these last two years; she must have got the information from Draco and let it slip, deliberately or not, down a rabbit hole.

The miniscule puncture on her finger was already healing. Narcissa closed the book of everything she had never wanted to know and laid it on the vanity top, then shut the drawer and sat watching her reflection in the mirror, looking for traces of Bella in her blood and bones.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

'I would ask the Commission now to consider what the Malfoy family has had to endure. You have all heard the evidence, some of it in Pensieve form, some from the diary of Bellatrix Lestrange, and of course from Lucius Malfoy himself. Mr Malfoy was not a willing participant in Voldemort's second insurrection against the Ministry. Yes, he was present in the Hall of Prophecy on the night of 20th June 1996; he has admitted to a list of charges stemming from that night. But as the Commission has heard, he was present there under duress. That, of course, mitigates the offences but does not exonerate him; however, as the Commission has heard, Mr Malfoy has paid for that crime, as he was thereafter imprisoned in Azkaban and held without trial for over a year, in violation of the law. According to the letter of the law, that alone was enough basis upon which to release him.

'Yet upon his release, he returned home only to be held prisoner by Voldemort himself. His wand was confiscated, his home occupied, his beloved wife and son also held hostage. Yes, he was in his own home with his family present, but he was still very much imprisoned. Death threats against his family were levelled regularly. As the Commission has heard, they were guarded very closely; they had hardly a moment's peace and certainly no privacy. Voldemort ingeniously employed Narcissa Malfoy's sister as their gaoler because he knew how strong was the pull of blood ties in this family and how seriously the Malfoys take the axiom of never raising a wand against a family member. The Commission has seen Pensieve evidence from Severus Snape himself...delivered to the Commission by the Minister for Magic...concerning what it means to be imprisoned in one's own home by Bellatrix Lestrange. Between the time he has spent in Azkaban and the time spent hostage in his home, Mr Malfoy has served more than double the sentence for the crimes he was originally imprisoned for.

'It is the Commission's stated end to uncover the truth about atrocities committed under Voldemort's rule, and in this endeavour Mr Malfoy has cooperated fully. He has opened his home to the Ministry's investigators, turned over to the Ministry all the evidence in his possession of what occurred in the house during Voldemort's time in power, including the diary of Bellatrix Lestrange herself. He has provided his testimony, corroborated by the evidence, of the horrors he witnessed and the torture he endured. His efforts have led to the identification of countless victims of Voldemort's reign of terror. It is because of the Malfoys that many other families can finally lay their loved ones to rest and begin to move forwards.

'I should also like to draw the Commission's attention to Mr Malfoy's state of health and the recommendation of the Commission-appointed Healer that he be allowed to seek treatment at a special facility. It is my contention that the Commission's and the community's interests would be best served by allowing the Malfoys leave to relocate for the time being, so that Mr Malfoy may attend to his health and his son may complete his education, which, as the Commission is aware, was brutally interrupted during Voldemort's takeover of Hogwarts School. Mrs Malfoy, who has already been recognised by this Commission for her contribution towards Voldemort's defeat at the Battle of Hogwarts, has agreed to serve as Bonder for her husband and son. The harm that would result to this family, who have already suffered so much, far outweighs any interest in keeping them within these borders.

'In sum, Mr Malfoy poses no danger to this community. He has provided invaluable services to a shattered society in hopes of helping it rebuild. Based on the evidence before this Commission, and in light of all relevant circumstances, in my capacity as Mr Malfoy's advocate, I now submit that he should be cleared of any legal obligations stemming from his 1996 arrest and be given leave to relocate with his family. I thank the Commission for its consideration.'

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Outside the hearing room, a quiet 'Malfoy' was spoken. Three heads turned.

Potter stood half in and half out of an office that led off the corridor, the door shielding him from their suspicion. It was immediately obvious which Malfoy he addressed. Draco lifted his chin, the way he used to greet Vincent and Gregory, and without a word he followed Potter through the door.

Narcissa looked at Lucius. 'What is this about?'

'We'll know soon enough, won't we?'

'What does that mean?'

She hardly knew how to read Lucius's expression, and she realised it was probably because there was no notable degree of anxiety there. In fact, he looked perfectly calm. He took her arm and threaded it through his. At that moment, Sextus stepped out into the corridor, determined and guardedly hopeful.

Draco could not have been gone longer than ten minutes. He stepped through the door quickly, without glancing back at Potter, who hesitantly trailed him into the corridor. He did not offer to shake hands, or even step close enough for any of them to extend theirs. He focussed on Narcissa and inclined his head in her direction.

'Thank you,' she said, 'for what you did today.'

'Thanks for what you did.'

After an awkward pause, he re-entered the office and shut the door.

'What did he want?' Narcissa demanded.

In answer, Draco held up a wand made of hawthorn, made by Ollivander and purchased just after his eleventh birthday. He smiled, as if he knew a secret.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was Lucius who had suggested they follow through with her plan, even though the original reason for it was now moot. She understood his reasoning, however, and ultimately she had agreed.

It took another three weeks after the hearing to pack all the necessities and close up the house while they waited for the Commission's ruling. She was glad of the activity; having something to do made the waiting easier. The day after they received the Commission's owl, Narcissa sat on the library sofa, surveying her work. Preservation charms on a library of this size required a substantial amount of effort, and it was repetitive but absorbing work: It was a matter of closing all the loopholes, ensuring that the charms protected against dust and damp and mites and doxies, ensuring that each volume was protected. She did not wish to return to find the library decimated.

Lucius found her there long after dusk.

'Looks like everything's in order here.'

'I think so.'

He sat beside her on the sofa and looked around. 'I can't believe we're actually leaving,' he said.

Narcissa could hardly believe it either, but reality had to be faced: The situation had not changed as much as one would have thought with the Dark Lord...she still could not think of him as Voldemort...dead and his followers scattered. Though she and her family were now finally the only occupants of the Manor, too many people knew its secrets and she lived in fear of attacks. Also, they had not been able to go out for being recognised and harassed, and their money could not buy so much as a wand here. She didn't want this for her son.

'It's temporary,' she said.

'Will you miss your study?' asked Lucius.

'I've set aside a room in the new house to use as a study. The one with the best view, of course.'

He chuckled and squeezed her hand. 'Tell me about our new home.'

She smiled at how like Draco he sounded.

'It's not as big as this, of course, but it's big enough. The house has stood for centuries. It's built in a square formation, with a cool, shady courtyard in the middle, and all the inner rooms overlook the courtyard. We have a fountain and gardens all around the outside. It hardly ever rains, so we'll have blue skies every day and gorgeous sunsets every evening.'

'It sounds perfect,' pronounced Lucius. This new attitude still surprised her, as he had been so resistant to the idea for the last year.

'It's everything we need.'

'I still don't think I can leave this place behind forever.'

'We can't, and we shouldn't,' agreed Narcissa. 'I want to return eventually, but just now ... it's best if we go somewhere we can live quietly for a while.'

He inclined his head and made a come-here gesture. In answer, she moved to his side and turned, tenting her legs over his lap, so that he could put an arm around her and she could lean her head against his chest. They were silent for a long moment, Lucius stroking her back, and she let her eyes drift closed. She had missed this.

Lucius said, 'Once, I thought I had lost you. That was a dark time.'

'You haven't lost me,' she assured him. It was a truth she had long since acknowledged, but saying it out loud was somehow liberating.

'I thought I had driven you away.'

'Don't be ridiculous. We're partners, aren't we?'

'Partners, yes.' He paused, drawing an uncertain breath. 'It's important that you understand something. If I ... If I thought that the best thing for you and Draco would have been to leave me behind, I would have let you go.'

She raised her head, stunned. 'Well, I refuse to let you go,' she told him directly, blinking back tears. 'I'm selfish that way.'

He smoothed her hair back from her face with hands that trembled all the time now, like an old man's. 'I'm rather fond of your selfishness,' he said.

She kissed him, feeling extraordinarily fortunate, and left it at that.

He asked, 'Tomorrow, then?'

'Tomorrow,' she confirmed. 'I've made an appointment for the Headmaster to meet Draco on Friday, and I'd like to be settled in before that. It will look better if we're already in residence.'

'Good,' said Lucius. 'I want him to be able to sit his N.E.W.T.s in the right environment. He needs to finish his education properly. Severus would say the same, I'm sure.'

'I'm sure he would.'

'I miss the old bastard.'

She nodded in agreement. Having finally allowed herself to consider the matter, there were things she wished she could have said to him. The last two years had left her with splinters of volcanic glass embedded in her secret heart, every misstep or misjudgement a separate acuminate fragment. Carrying them was a method of payment, or penance, a barter for the safety of those dearest to her.

Lucius continued. 'Severus. All this time I thought I knew him, and then it turns out he really was taking orders from Dumbledore. I never would have guessed.'

'Nor would I,' said Narcissa, who heard a certain acknowledgment in her husband's voice and chose to disregard it.

After a short silence, Lucius asked, 'Bed?'

'Bed,' she agreed.

ii.

Afterwards

It was no bigger than the house in Spinner's End, but he needed nothing bigger. It was an odd collection of eclectic furniture and whitewashed walls two feet thick that preserved the silence and kept the blazing heat at bay. (He dared not step outside between mid-morning and sunset, as the sun here could bake your brain in your skull and years could pass in the interim between raindrops.) It was isolated, anonymous, nondescript and contained a seemingly endless supply of books, tinned food and decent tea, though the water tasted of trace minerals from an aquifer buried so deep that only the most skilful use of charms could uncover it. In short, it was a place where only wizards could live, and he found himself glad of that fact every time he looked out the picture window in the sitting room at the breathtaking razor-back silhouette of mountains plummeting into a doe-coloured canyon. If Muggles could live here, they would have erected garish neon signs and soulless motorways over the lot.

She had thought of everything.

Surfaces here reflected light in ways they never could in England, and the light was often unbearably bright to his dungeon dweller's eyes. Now it slanted in late-afternoon lines through the kitchen window, revealing an army of golden dust motes before pooling around the chair in which she sat.

Of course, she had wormed the secret out of Draco...assuming it was ever secret from her to begin with. She'd at least had the good sense to owl him before appearing on his doorstep, but even so, he'd been shocked to open the door and find Bellatrix standing there. He went for his wand, a force of habit, before she smiled. He blinked and the illusion lifted.

Her eyes were blue, and she had said, 'Severus, how nice to see you.'

He had studied her appearance as he made tea. On second glance, Narcissa's resemblance to her sister was slight; it was only the colour of her hair and the shape of her nose that had tricked him. He wondered if the change meant anything.

He now cocked an eyebrow at her as he set the tea tray down. (Regrettably, she had not provided elves.)

'New look?' he asked mildly.

She looked puzzled for a moment but then reached up to touch the dark brown hair whose ends just brushed her jaw. She fingered a strand and then pushed it behind her ear, her hands unsteady, as if unsure what to do with this unaccustomed length. 'I just didn't want to be so ... recognisable.'

He sat. 'Surely here ...'

'That damned photo was reprinted in I don't know how many newspapers. Besides, it was time for a change all around.'

She had been captured on film leaving the offices of Britain's Post-War Truth-Telling Commission. In the newspaper he had seen, some idiot had captioned it 'The Chosen One's Saviour.' The same newspaper carried an editorial about the travesty of the Ministry's failure to try the Malfoys as war criminals. People could not make up their minds.

Severus turned back to the matter at hand, the reason for her visit. 'I suppose I should thank you for all this.' He gestured around the room, around the house. She must have noted that he did not actually thank her, and he wondered if she could guess why. He continued, 'But how did you know I would need a bolt-hole? I might have had one already.'

'Of course you didn't have. You were bound and determined to get yourself killed before you would ever need one,' she snapped. Then she softened, 'I know how to research property records, you know.'

He might have noted that the fact of his sitting here conversing with her was proof enough of his determination to live. Instead, he made a joke. 'I might have had one under another name.'

'Severus? I know all the tricks for hiding property.'

'And assets as well, it would appear.'

'Assets as well.'

Disinterestedly, he asked, 'You managed all this under his nose, under your sister's nose?'

'Not all of it, no. It all began ages ago, during the first war.' He must have raised an eyebrow. She breathed out quietly. 'It's a long story,' she said, 'but essentially Regulus's disappearance made me realise that all of us were vulnerable and that it was vital to have a backup plan.'

'And your backup plan included a couple of safe houses and some secret accounts to live off if you ever had to disappear?'

Narcissa answered his question with a question. 'Do you know why Abraxas Malfoy wanted me for a daughter-in-law?'

'Any number of reasons, I imagine.'

'Yes. Well, proper bloodlines aside, my father-in-law found out that I was good with figures. I took over my own family's finances when I was sixteen, although no one knew that at the time. Abraxas was amazingly prescient. He knew a conflict was coming and that a change in the government might endanger his family's wealth. He also knew that someone would have to keep Lucius in line. He was never interested in finances, and his father thought it would have been dangerous to turn the family's investments over to outside advisers. He was right. So Abraxas and my father came to a gentleman's agreement. Shy little Cissy, with her talent for figures and finance, would wed handsome, outgoing young Lucius, thus ensuring the future of the Malfoy fortune and saving the Black family's honour. You remember my other sister, of course.'

Severus gave a barely perceptible nod. He had never actually met Andromeda but had certainly heard the story.

'The scandal of her marriage could have ruined us. It seems quaint now, doesn't it, that one daughter's foolish choices could ruin another's prospects for marriage.' She shook her head. 'Fortunately, the Malfoys weren't put off, although I doubt they would have stepped in had there not been something in it for them.'

'So you oversee the family fortune. That was your big secret.'

She gestured, palm up, and said, 'Simple as that. Of course, there was a flaw in the plan.'

'There always is.'

'Yes, because my backup plan required being able to disappear undetected, which, as you know, became impossible.' Her right hand moved upwards, reflexively, and he watched as her fingers traced her collarbone.

'Does Lucius know all of this?'

'He does now. I don't think he's quite forgiven me for not telling him earlier.'

'He'll come around.'

'If only it were that simple.'

Because Severus did not care to discuss what Lucius might or might not forgive, he said, 'Voldemort underestimated you.'

An incredulous laugh escaped her. 'His underestimation of you was greater by far,' she replied. Was that admiration in her tone? 'I'd much rather hear how you managed it.'

He was in no mood to rehash all that. 'Another time, perhaps.' Perhaps never.

Narcissa went on, 'In any case, I've spent a lifetime learning the ways in which wizards underestimate witches. There are certain advantages in being underestimated; because I'm a woman, I was less of a threat, and therefore not to be taken as seriously as a man...in war as in business. But the simplicity of a weapon does not mean I won't use it.'

'And Lucius?'

'Lucius is the only wizard I have ever met who never underestimated me. It's why I married him.'

He could hardly believe her nerve in saying such a thing, and to him of all people. 'I thought you just said you married him because of an agreement between your fathers.'

'That's what our fathers thought, too.'

Despite himself, Severus almost laughed. 'I was wrong about you,' he said.

'No. You only let yourself be distracted.'

'You used me.' It was not an accusation, merely a fact to which he had resigned himself. After all she was not the first, nor was she the most egregious offender, all things considered. His own lack of bitterness surprised him.

'Severus, no, you mustn't think that. I'm very sorry if you feel that way. I never meant to use you. I only didn't know how far I could trust you. I couldn't even trust my own sister. But you proved yourself. You proved yourself by not revealing the little titbits I threw you and I thought...'

'So you rewarded me with...?'

'No, Severus. That's not why I...' She looked down into her lap, blushing. He had never seen a Malfoy blush. 'It was nothing to do with me rewarding you. It was never...I realised quickly that it was wrong of me for many reasons, obviously. I'm sorry for dragging you into it. It was incredibly selfish of me and I shouldn't have...I'm sorry.'

'You didn't exactly drag me,' he conceded. 'I went willingly enough.'

For a moment they were quiet. Then: 'What about you?' he inquired. 'Did you allow yourself to be ... distracted?'

'I did.' Her tone was depressingly kind. She smiled sadly. 'It won't happen again,' she said, as if apologising for having trod on his foot.

'With any luck, your husband won't find himself gaoled again.'

'That wasn't the only reason.'

He nodded, not looking at her. He did not need to hear more.

After they had discussed his plans for the future, both abstract and concrete (she offered to help him draft a business plan and he agreed to consider that offer), he walked her to the door.

'You'll stop by, then?' Narcissa asked. 'Lucius and Draco would love to see you.'

'Of course,' he answered. 'Give them my regards.'

He was careful not to shake hands, not to touch her, but she did not appear to take this as a slight. She stepped through the door into the burning sunlight and, with a fluid gesture, put on her hat. As was his habit, he remained in the shade. Narcissa turned back, galling and dazzling, her eyes and her thoughts shielded from him. He assumed she meant to bid him goodbye, but instead she said, 'Really, Severus, there were many reasons.'

Before he could respond, she turned on the spot and vanished into the light.

While any errors or deficiencies in this story are entirely mine, I owe a debt of gratitude to my beta reader, the incomparable AmyLouise, who asked all the right questions, listened patiently to my long-winded answers, herded my commas and nudged me in the right direction.