Just on the perifery of her mind...
Did she miss something? She must have. Somewhere along the line, she must have. Who was the first to disappear? Lucius. Then Greyback vanished. Then these three, and she's heard the Carrows whispering that Draco is missing.
That's six.
But...Severus couldn't have killed them all. Could he have?
She passes empty rooms as she goes down the long, dimly-lit hallway to the bedroom she shared with Lucius, trying to fit things together in her mind. She reaches the bedroom and something occures to her.
Dumbledore, and the Unbreakable Vow.
She has to sit down. She runs her trembling hands through her hair and pushes herself to think. She's covered over so many things in her life, especially over the last few years; she's done everything for her family, and--ah, no...wait...
Slowly, she rises and goes to her closet, and takes out the box she found while she was searching for a safe place to brew her special potion. It was hidden behind a false wall, clearly Lucius had stashed it there years ago and then forgot about it. Inside it was an assortment of things: a square of quilting from the blanket Draco had been wrapped in as a newborn; a vial of the dried petals from a mysterious white flower; a cracked pendant in the shape of an ornate "S" that she had always taken to refer to Slytherin House, and photographs. She has no idea who took them, and it doesn't matter anymore. What matters is the identities of the people in them. Severus and Lucius. The way Lucius looks at Severus in the pictures makes her feel...odd.
She's finally realized that Lucius loved Severus, and probably always had. She's hurt, but then again, she isn't. There was no romance for her, before she and Lucius married. In fact, he didn't propose to her of his own accord. They knew each other, of course, they'd been in Slytherin together, but beyond that, they really didn't know each other. She fancied him, true, but what woman of her Blood-Status wouldn't? She winces, remembering the Grey Lady's words to her. He was confidant and very self-possessed, not to mention wealthy...but as a person...she sighs deeply. The truth is that as a person he was just as empty as she was. They weren't ready to marry, but they did it to satisfy the Purist doctrine their families clung to and had force-fed them.
As they themselves had done to Draco.
Draco...
In the dim light of her bedroom, Narcissa Black weeps.
Her mothering arms ache to hold him now, just to touch her only child. And what she backed Severus into for Draco's sake...and yet, she thinks of that again and feels a very deep chill. So many things have fallen into place, and are falling into place, and she has begun to grasp the bigger picture. She grew to love Lucius, and even now she loves him still. Yes, she's stung, but she's realizing that all is not as it appears to be, and that she has reached the point where she has to decide between what is right and what is easy. In her heart, in her blood and bones, even in her soul, she knows that Lucius Malfoy is still alive, as is her son; she knows in the pit of her stomach that Severus Snape is not her enemy, but rather the Dark Lord's. It's that overwealming feeling she had sitting there at the table today, the exact same feeling she had the last time, when Rastaban was insisting that Lucius was dead and Severus had murdered him, but then she didn't understand what she was feeling.
Everything the great grey raven told her rings in her mind, and she glimpses the bigger picture...Dumbledore was part of it...Dumbledore...what is right, and what is easy...
Right, or easy?
Oh, dear Gods...
Dear Gods...
Regulus...
***
Elsbet knows they're here somewhere, she can feel them. She feels them but she can't see them. She's so very tired, and sore, and hungry. She lays down on the ground and rests her head on her arm, sighing deeply. "Mathon ne wilith," she says softly, "mathon ne chae." She's telling her stick that she can feel them in the air and in the ground, and she knows somehow that the stick understands her. She has rested for just a brief moment and now it is time to go on; she begins to rise slowly, saying to the stick still lodged in her hair, "le a nin," you and me, but as she straightens she hears a cracking sound. She moves back from the place she was standing and sees where the ground has actually crumbled away.
Beneath where she stands right now is an enormous cavern.
Excitedly, she gets back down on the ground and crawls carefully to the hole she sees, and tests it to see if she can put her hand into the hole. It's not quite big enough...so she crawls up a little closer and calls into it, "mae govannen!" She listens closely, straining to hear anything, any kind of response to her greeting. She repetes the greeting, then listens. She hears movement, she hears...excited little squeals down below. She pulls rocks away from the opening and fights to push her arm in. She feels the cool air of the cavern, and feels...one of them touching her hand. She's so excited that she shouts to them, pulls her arm out of the hole, and looks around her. She's found them, now how does she get them out?
"Edro ammen," she whispers, not thinking, then suddenly realizes...what if she is on a door, and she's just told it to open? As quickly as she can she scrambles up, but it's too late. The unsteady ground gives way beneath her slight weight, and Elsbet falls...
***
Narcissa's heart trembles as she goes over everything in her mind once more. Her head hurts, and her legs feel weak. Abstract thoughts arise in the flow of thought, just as fevered, and vie for attention. She never hated Andromeda because her sister disavowed the Family's Purist beliefs; she was jealous because Andromeda married for love rather than duty. She fights to keep her train of thought on track, but it's a losing battle. Could she love Lucius if he were less than Pure? She fights it...could she love him if he were a Muggle-born? Her whole body shakes and she tries to think about Dumbledore and that terrible day at Spinner's End. Could she love Lucius Malfoy even if he were...a Muggle?
All her strength drains from her and she reaches for the chair, but doesn't make it. She crumples to the ground and sobs hard, thinking about Lucius, about his smile, about his laugh...and about his touch. She wraps her empty arms around herself and squeezes, thinking about Draco again. Would she love her son any less if he were not Pure? She lets go of herself and leans back against the wall, closing her eyes. She runs her hand up her right arm, remembering the last time she and Lucius were intimate. She had never wanted any other man, not like she wanted him. She remembers the heat of his breath on her throat, the feel of his hands caressing her breasts, the feel of his cock, and the sounds he made when he came...
She groans, and that goan becomes a sob. Yes, she would still love Lucius, even if he were a Muggle. And her love for their child would be no less if he were not Pure. Then why are the children of other mothers less than her son? She feels suddenly very sick. An image of the Potter boy appears in her mind and digs itself in firmly. She knows the story about Potter's Muggle-born mother, that she had thrown herself in front of the Dark Lord's curse...she sacrificed herself to protect her baby...Narcissa doesn't bother asking herself whether or not she would do the same, because she would, without hesitation. She told Bellatrix when she disobeyed the Dark Lord's orders and went to Severus last year that there was nothing she would not do anymore to protect her son.
And that still stands. She lets that determination strengthen her once more and pulls herself up. Still a little shakey, she moves slowly to the bed and looks at the pictures in the box again. Yes, she still loves Lucius, and she knows she always will, but she knows things between them won't be what they were. As she places everything back into the box and returns it to its hiding place, she knows she's alright with that. She's a Slytherin, she'll adjust. But more, she's a Black, and they do more than merely adjust. They take action. She walks to her mirror and looks at herself steadily, her train of thought runing smoothly.
She'd always wondered what had happened to Regulus; Kreacher was never right after he disappeared. She thinks now that perhaps he had discovered the Dark Lord's true intentions long before the rest of them had and decided the price was just too high. And Sirius, who hadn't been right since...since...it's not another abstract thought, it's a hill she has to force her train over. Sirius hadn't been right since the night the Potters were...murdered. Since the night the Potters were murdered. Sirius spent the last years of his life trying to renew the opposition to the Dark Lord. And he died fighting for what he believed was right, just as Regulus probably did.
Andromeda married a Muggle-born wizard for love, and gave birth to a child who has become, from what she understands, a very brave and dangerous Auror, who has defied the Ministry to have the man she loves, and she loves him regardless of the fact he's a werewolf. Neither Andromeda nor Nymphadora were afraid to follow their hearts and go against the Family's beliefs. How many other members of the Black Family have done this? She doubts she'll ever know. Is she any less courageous than them? Is the content of her heart less than theirs? Certainly not. Why did she defy Lucius when he wanted to send Draco to Durmstrang, where they openly teach the Dark Arts? Not only because her mothering heart would break with her child so very far away...
Because she didn't want him to become a monster.
Dumbledore would never have let that happen. Ah, she thinks, he didn't let that happen. And that brings her back to Severus. Did he make the others disappear so that Lucius' and Draco's disappearances would be less suspect? Or is there something else? Everyone had a reason to kill Greyback, or wish him dead. The other three might just have pushed Severus too far. Bellatrix has never trusted him, yet she always has. There has never been a time when she felt he could not be trusted. She thinks about that night when they had been called together and the Dark Lord questioned him about Lucius...what he told her before he left hurt her, but it had to. He had to appear ruthless and cruel. Sighing deeply, she locks her bedroom door and casts a protective spell to seal herself in, then readies herself for bed. It's early, but she is tired, and has so very much to think about. Like what is right, and what is easy...
Did she miss something? She must have. Somewhere along the line, she must have. Who was the first to disappear? Lucius. Then Greyback vanished. Then these three, and she's heard the Carrows whispering that Draco is missing.
That's six.
But...Severus couldn't have killed them all. Could he have?
She passes empty rooms as she goes down the long, dimly-lit hallway to the bedroom she shared with Lucius, trying to fit things together in her mind. She reaches the bedroom and something occures to her.
Dumbledore, and the Unbreakable Vow.
She has to sit down. She runs her trembling hands through her hair and pushes herself to think. She's covered over so many things in her life, especially over the last few years; she's done everything for her family, and--ah, no...wait...
Slowly, she rises and goes to her closet, and takes out the box she found while she was searching for a safe place to brew her special potion. It was hidden behind a false wall, clearly Lucius had stashed it there years ago and then forgot about it. Inside it was an assortment of things: a square of quilting from the blanket Draco had been wrapped in as a newborn; a vial of the dried petals from a mysterious white flower; a cracked pendant in the shape of an ornate "S" that she had always taken to refer to Slytherin House, and photographs. She has no idea who took them, and it doesn't matter anymore. What matters is the identities of the people in them. Severus and Lucius. The way Lucius looks at Severus in the pictures makes her feel...odd.
She's finally realized that Lucius loved Severus, and probably always had. She's hurt, but then again, she isn't. There was no romance for her, before she and Lucius married. In fact, he didn't propose to her of his own accord. They knew each other, of course, they'd been in Slytherin together, but beyond that, they really didn't know each other. She fancied him, true, but what woman of her Blood-Status wouldn't? She winces, remembering the Grey Lady's words to her. He was confidant and very self-possessed, not to mention wealthy...but as a person...she sighs deeply. The truth is that as a person he was just as empty as she was. They weren't ready to marry, but they did it to satisfy the Purist doctrine their families clung to and had force-fed them.
As they themselves had done to Draco.
Draco...
In the dim light of her bedroom, Narcissa Black weeps.
Her mothering arms ache to hold him now, just to touch her only child. And what she backed Severus into for Draco's sake...and yet, she thinks of that again and feels a very deep chill. So many things have fallen into place, and are falling into place, and she has begun to grasp the bigger picture. She grew to love Lucius, and even now she loves him still. Yes, she's stung, but she's realizing that all is not as it appears to be, and that she has reached the point where she has to decide between what is right and what is easy. In her heart, in her blood and bones, even in her soul, she knows that Lucius Malfoy is still alive, as is her son; she knows in the pit of her stomach that Severus Snape is not her enemy, but rather the Dark Lord's. It's that overwealming feeling she had sitting there at the table today, the exact same feeling she had the last time, when Rastaban was insisting that Lucius was dead and Severus had murdered him, but then she didn't understand what she was feeling.
Everything the great grey raven told her rings in her mind, and she glimpses the bigger picture...Dumbledore was part of it...Dumbledore...what is right, and what is easy...
Right, or easy?
Oh, dear Gods...
Dear Gods...
Regulus...
***
Elsbet knows they're here somewhere, she can feel them. She feels them but she can't see them. She's so very tired, and sore, and hungry. She lays down on the ground and rests her head on her arm, sighing deeply. "Mathon ne wilith," she says softly, "mathon ne chae." She's telling her stick that she can feel them in the air and in the ground, and she knows somehow that the stick understands her. She has rested for just a brief moment and now it is time to go on; she begins to rise slowly, saying to the stick still lodged in her hair, "le a nin," you and me, but as she straightens she hears a cracking sound. She moves back from the place she was standing and sees where the ground has actually crumbled away.
Beneath where she stands right now is an enormous cavern.
Excitedly, she gets back down on the ground and crawls carefully to the hole she sees, and tests it to see if she can put her hand into the hole. It's not quite big enough...so she crawls up a little closer and calls into it, "mae govannen!" She listens closely, straining to hear anything, any kind of response to her greeting. She repetes the greeting, then listens. She hears movement, she hears...excited little squeals down below. She pulls rocks away from the opening and fights to push her arm in. She feels the cool air of the cavern, and feels...one of them touching her hand. She's so excited that she shouts to them, pulls her arm out of the hole, and looks around her. She's found them, now how does she get them out?
"Edro ammen," she whispers, not thinking, then suddenly realizes...what if she is on a door, and she's just told it to open? As quickly as she can she scrambles up, but it's too late. The unsteady ground gives way beneath her slight weight, and Elsbet falls...
***
Narcissa's heart trembles as she goes over everything in her mind once more. Her head hurts, and her legs feel weak. Abstract thoughts arise in the flow of thought, just as fevered, and vie for attention. She never hated Andromeda because her sister disavowed the Family's Purist beliefs; she was jealous because Andromeda married for love rather than duty. She fights to keep her train of thought on track, but it's a losing battle. Could she love Lucius if he were less than Pure? She fights it...could she love him if he were a Muggle-born? Her whole body shakes and she tries to think about Dumbledore and that terrible day at Spinner's End. Could she love Lucius Malfoy even if he were...a Muggle?
All her strength drains from her and she reaches for the chair, but doesn't make it. She crumples to the ground and sobs hard, thinking about Lucius, about his smile, about his laugh...and about his touch. She wraps her empty arms around herself and squeezes, thinking about Draco again. Would she love her son any less if he were not Pure? She lets go of herself and leans back against the wall, closing her eyes. She runs her hand up her right arm, remembering the last time she and Lucius were intimate. She had never wanted any other man, not like she wanted him. She remembers the heat of his breath on her throat, the feel of his hands caressing her breasts, the feel of his cock, and the sounds he made when he came...
She groans, and that goan becomes a sob. Yes, she would still love Lucius, even if he were a Muggle. And her love for their child would be no less if he were not Pure. Then why are the children of other mothers less than her son? She feels suddenly very sick. An image of the Potter boy appears in her mind and digs itself in firmly. She knows the story about Potter's Muggle-born mother, that she had thrown herself in front of the Dark Lord's curse...she sacrificed herself to protect her baby...Narcissa doesn't bother asking herself whether or not she would do the same, because she would, without hesitation. She told Bellatrix when she disobeyed the Dark Lord's orders and went to Severus last year that there was nothing she would not do anymore to protect her son.
And that still stands. She lets that determination strengthen her once more and pulls herself up. Still a little shakey, she moves slowly to the bed and looks at the pictures in the box again. Yes, she still loves Lucius, and she knows she always will, but she knows things between them won't be what they were. As she places everything back into the box and returns it to its hiding place, she knows she's alright with that. She's a Slytherin, she'll adjust. But more, she's a Black, and they do more than merely adjust. They take action. She walks to her mirror and looks at herself steadily, her train of thought runing smoothly.
She'd always wondered what had happened to Regulus; Kreacher was never right after he disappeared. She thinks now that perhaps he had discovered the Dark Lord's true intentions long before the rest of them had and decided the price was just too high. And Sirius, who hadn't been right since...since...it's not another abstract thought, it's a hill she has to force her train over. Sirius hadn't been right since the night the Potters were...murdered. Since the night the Potters were murdered. Sirius spent the last years of his life trying to renew the opposition to the Dark Lord. And he died fighting for what he believed was right, just as Regulus probably did.
Andromeda married a Muggle-born wizard for love, and gave birth to a child who has become, from what she understands, a very brave and dangerous Auror, who has defied the Ministry to have the man she loves, and she loves him regardless of the fact he's a werewolf. Neither Andromeda nor Nymphadora were afraid to follow their hearts and go against the Family's beliefs. How many other members of the Black Family have done this? She doubts she'll ever know. Is she any less courageous than them? Is the content of her heart less than theirs? Certainly not. Why did she defy Lucius when he wanted to send Draco to Durmstrang, where they openly teach the Dark Arts? Not only because her mothering heart would break with her child so very far away...
Because she didn't want him to become a monster.
Dumbledore would never have let that happen. Ah, she thinks, he didn't let that happen. And that brings her back to Severus. Did he make the others disappear so that Lucius' and Draco's disappearances would be less suspect? Or is there something else? Everyone had a reason to kill Greyback, or wish him dead. The other three might just have pushed Severus too far. Bellatrix has never trusted him, yet she always has. There has never been a time when she felt he could not be trusted. She thinks about that night when they had been called together and the Dark Lord questioned him about Lucius...what he told her before he left hurt her, but it had to. He had to appear ruthless and cruel. Sighing deeply, she locks her bedroom door and casts a protective spell to seal herself in, then readies herself for bed. It's early, but she is tired, and has so very much to think about. Like what is right, and what is easy...