Moonlight and flowers

It had taken over an hour to dose everyone who needed the Wolfsbane, and Narcissa was exhausted from the sheer effort of facing all those strange, assessing sets of eyes. Sitting wearily on a cleanish stretch of grass she summoned a cup to her with a word and a flick of her wand, and stood with her hand outstretched for a long second before realising that it wasn\'t coming. A frown slipped across her face before she tried again, but once again nothing happened. She tried half-a-dozen times more, with increasing desperation, before utter panic gripped her at the realisation that her magic didn\'t work.



Around her, the members of the camp attended to their own business, except for one small child who was staring at her, thumb in mouth, and Sir, who had looked up from what he was doing at her first repetition of the charm. As she began to tremble he called out to her, "Come here, girl."



Her eyes were wide but she stood and moved automatically across to stand before him.



"Your magic has been suppressed," he said with callous carelessness. His eyes were steady on her, and when she didn\'t faint or scream he seemed to shrug a little before he reached for the small piece of machinery he seemed to be fixing and returned his attention to it.



She stood there for a while, but when he took the piece of machinery over to consult with another man she took it that she was dismissed. Her mind was screaming with the loss of her magic. She could feel it inside her, but she couldn\'t use it.



Slowly she realised that she was still thirsty; she went over and picked up the cup she had earlier tried to summon and took it down to the brook. The children were playing downstream, but the water seemed clear above the small rocky ford, and reluctantly she dipped the cup in, swirling her hand in it to clean it, and held it to her lips.



It tasted strange, tainted with odd flavours - not as pure as the water which a spell had always brought to fill her cup - and as she drank it she wept, kneeling there on the rocks by the side of an unknown brook with the sound of children\'s laughter in her ears.



The afternoon was nearly over - the sky above was shading to palest blue, and the clouds had a tinge of gold which would soon deepen at sunset. Elia\'s voice came clearly down to the brook. "Girl! Girl!"



Narcissa rose, realising at last that she was being called, and returned to the fire. Several women were already at work there, and one gestured to her. The cauldron which Severus had handed to her earlier was filled with dirty goblets and bowls. "Take those down to the brook and clean them out," the woman commanded. "Do it quickly; we\'ll need them for dinner. And make sure the cauldron is spotless. He doesn\'t like his cauldrons returned in poor condition." She pressed a rag into Narcissa\'s hands and turned away.



Down at the brook, the sky to the west was alight with gold and flame. The children had gone - the brook was too cold for playing in now. Narcissa\'s hands were frozen as she swirled and rubbed each bowl, dropping it into the cauldron as she finished. One of the older boys came panting down behind her to give her a message to hurry up, and she gave him the cauldron, saying that she would be back when she had finished the last few cups, but as the red-streaked sky turned darker she sat shivering on the bank, unable to bring herself to go back.



Her magic was gone. She stared at the iron bracelet on her slender wrist, knowing that it must be the suppressor. Severus had clicked it on so quietly, so negligently - as if it were nothing! As if it were not a portkey to whisk her into a life of slavery to werewolves and rob her of her magic. She kept imagining his face at that moment: his downcast eyes, his impassive, expressionless demeanor. Severus! Whom she had trusted with the life of her son! And she had never even looked at Lucius as she passed him, so certain was she that in a matter of minutes - an hour at worst - she would be caring for him and cosseting him in their own silk-sheeted bedroom at the Manor. What was he thinking now? Was anyone taking care of him?



The Dark Lord had given the possibility of returning to his grace. If she were to run now she would have nothing - not money, family, magic. Perhaps the summons would come this evening. Perhaps even now, Severus was up at the camp to fetch her. She sprang to her feet and ran up the hill, but there was no-one there who had not been there earlier, and all of the stew was gone.



She accepted the heel of bread that was given to her and crouched in the shadows as the women rounded up the children and took them to a tent which was apparently their bedroom. Above the camp the moon rose, and Narcissa saw with a shock of realisation that it was nearing the full.