Chapter Three

The next night was four days after the full moon, and Molly Prewett stepped out of the main door and pulled her cloak about her in the frosty night air as her breath plumed about her. She was only five minutes late, enough to make her beau anxious, but not quite enough to make him believe that she wasn't coming, a perfect balance. She looked to both sides to see if she could see her Arthur skulking nearby, watching for her leaving, but the only person she saw was Narcissa Black, and wondered only briefly why the little Slytherin minx was heading towards the Forbidden Forest. She cast the thought aside as unworthy of her; after all, why shouldn't everybody have a little liaison and be as happy as she felt tonight, even Narcissa Black.

She picked her way carefully between the trees to where Arthur had said he would be waiting for her, to where Molly fancied her whole future might even be beckoning... if she played her cards right. Molly Weasley, she turned the name over in her head, Molly and Arthur, Mr and Mrs Arthur... 'Malfoy?' she gasped. 'Where's Arthur? You had better not have hexed him or you'll have me to answer to.'

'Molly... what are you talking about?' Lucius asked, thrusting an enormous bunch of roses at her. 'Didn't you get my message? The scroll I sent you yesterday?' he asked, clearly confused, maybe even chagrined. 'Why are you talking about Arthur?'

'You... you sent me that scroll?' she accused, pointing at Malfoy. 'Was this some kind of pathetic practical joke?' Then she took a good look at Lucius, possibly for the first time ever, and wondered why she had never seen him properly before. 'Roses?' she said with a little catch in her throat, as the heady scent from the enchanted blooms invaded her senses. 'No one has ever bought me flowers before... I... I... thank you, they're beautiful.'

'They're not enough, are they?' Lucius asked, and something in his flat tone made Molly understand.

'They're beautiful, Lucius... I had just expected someone else... That's all.'

'Arthur Weasley?' Lucius asked in the same cold voice that Molly now recognised as strangled with emotion.

She didn't know how to handle this; she had been completely unprepared for anything but falling into Arthur's arms, and him falling into hers, and now she had a hurt angry young man to deal with, and Molly didn't know how to do that.

'He can give you nothing, Molly. In this life every man is what he has, and if he has nothing, he is nobody very much at all,' Malfoy reasoned with the only tool he understood. 'I, on the other hand, can give you the whole world... if you give me a chance.'

'I don't want the whole world, Lucius,' she said lamely, quite at a loss as to how to find words that would neither hurt nor give false hope. She held out her hand to him, watching as he seemed to try to come to some sort of decision, perhaps to save face, perhaps not. 'Let's walk awhile, Lucius, and at least talk... and as to the roses, well, were I not the fool I probably am for wanting a boy who has no interest in me... yes, they would have been enough,' she said, smiling as kindly as she could at him, as he took her hand at last in his cool grasp, 'but only because they came from you.'

*****

Narcissa hugged her cloak tightly, wishing she had worn something less flimsy below it; it was the beginning of December, after all. She looked around for any sign that Lucius might be hanging about the entrance in the hope of catching her there and saving himself the walk to the Forrest, but she saw no one but Molly Prewett heading towards the Lake. She wondered briefly who the fat cow was meeting there, and then stopped herself, telling herself it was ungracious not to be happy for someone else, when she was so happy, even if that someone else was Molly Prewett.

It wasn't long before her footsteps crunched on the stony path where she knew her Lucius was waiting. She wondered what the glorious scent was wafting from the trees, and she closed her eyes for a second and inhaled the heady perfume, thinking to herself, Narcissa Malfoy, Lord and Lady of Malfoy Manor, Mr and Mrs Lucius... 'Weasley?' she screeched, sending a flock of birds fluttering out of the branches in panic. 'What are you doing here? Where's Lucius? What have you done with him?'

'Narcissa...' Arthur stumbled further out of the cover of darkness, thrusting his dozen enchanted roses at the tiny girl who had come to meet him. 'I sent you a message. Didn't you get my scroll? Why are you asking about Lucius?'

'You sent me that scroll? What kind of pathetic joke was that? What kind of fool were you trying to make of me?' Then she took a good look at the boy she had never deigned to notice before, standing holding out the bunch of flowers he had probably spent every Knut he had on, with his shoulders slumped in defeat. 'Roses?' she whispered in a tiny voice which was the only one she could push past the knot in her throat. 'No one has ever given me flowers before, Arthur... They're beautiful.'

'It's not very many, is it?' he asked, and something in his tone made Narcissa understand.

'They're beautiful, Arthur. I had just expected someone else... I'm truly sorry.'

'Lucius?' Arthur replied. 'Yes, I'm sure he can buy you barrow loads of roses.'

Narcissa didn't know what to say; nothing in her life had prepared her for being careful not to tread on someone else's feelings, but she knew she didn't want to tread on Arthur's. Arthur had bought her roses, and she wanted to let him understand how much she valued that, without giving him any false hope.

'I don't want barrow loads of roses, Arthur. I know I'm a fool, but I would gladly live in rags to be with the boy I love, the boy who doesn't even seem to know I exist,' she said. 'I want these roses though, but only because they came from you.' She held out her tiny hand. 'Now what about that walk under the stars you promised, and we can chat and be the very dearest of friends.' She sniffed, pretending to herself that she was smelling the blooms, and didn't quite catch the remark that fell from her lips. 'Because you bought me roses.'

*****

Severus and Alice reached the top of the steps. They had been talking about the debacle of the night before, each one wondering why they had not discussed the developing situation with the other before it had had reached its climax, realising that in so doing a lot of pride would have remained unwounded. Severus looked across the Hall and then nodded to Alice, as Remus Lupin and Kingsley Shacklebolt arrived at the bottom of the stairs leading from the Gryffindor heartland.

'Lupin... Shacklebolt,' Severus called. 'Have you two got a second?'

He watched as the two Gryffs shared a knowing look, and Lupin cocked his head towards the library.

'It was a fiasco,' Lupin said with a groan as he sat at one of the tables furthest from the door. 'Arthur was devastated.'

'So was Molly,' Alice said. 'She stayed in the Ravenclaw dorm, and cried half the night for Arthur and the other half because she felt sorry for Lucius.'

Severus didn't particularly want to think about Lucius, but he knew he had to; he would do that alone though, he didn't think anyone else needed to know just what retribution Lucius had planned for Arthur Weasley... if he didn't talk him out of it. 'Yes, well, hell apparently hath no fury like a Malfoy scorned,' he said, settling for a vague warning.

'Has anyone seen Narcissa?' Alice asked them all, including Snape. 'We shared with Slytherin for Charms, and she wasn't in class.'

Severus gave her pained look, as though to ask if she didn't realise he was a Slytherin, and in fact had been sitting at her side in the very class she was talking about. He was beginning to have reservations about the fabled Ravenclaw brains. 'No, and I have no intention of going head to head with Bellatrix, before anyone suggests it,' he said instead.

'I don't think we should do or say much at all. Just let the dust settle for a few days,' Kingsley suggested.

'Yes, that would be fine if the ruddy Yule Ball wasn't looming on the ruddy horizon like the Sword of ruddy Damocles,' Severus snapped.

'I'm sure it will all sort itself out,' Lupin offered in the infuriatingly deferential way he had of making Snape's teeth grind.

*****