No Looking Back

This story is for my wonderful friend, Dynonugget. Rawr!

The doorknob clicks as someone tries to open the door and finds it locked.

“Lucius,” Narcissa’s strident voice penetrates the room. “I’d like a word with you.”

I rub my forehead, trying vainly to ease the throbbing. This is going to be difficult.

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I cross the room to the bar and the decanter of Scotch. Ignoring the knocking for the moment, I refill my glass and swallow a mouthful, gritting my teeth as the liquid hits the back of my throat. Setting the glass down, I reach for the door and turn the handle.

Narcissa looks every bit the ice queen she projects to the world. I step back as she enters the room. She walks to the fire and stands near the mantle. That she doesn’t take her usual seat in the overstuffed club chair is telling. I must have known this would happen. I deliberately shirked her dinner party, an unforgivable, in her mind. I should have been prepared for this. That I can’t remember the last… How many years have I lost? I’ve been hit with an Obliviate, of that I am certain. Besides the obvious memory loss, I’ve the headache, confusion and nervousness that accompany the spell. What I need immediately are answers to questions that I cannot ask. Playing on Narcissa’s agitation will be useful. She often lets slip snippets of information she would normally keep to herself when upset. Handled properly, perhaps I may learn something that will be useful. And what fun it will be to wheedle the stick a bit; it is amusing to watch her reactions.

I make my way to the sofa and slowly sink down, letting my head lean against the back. My eyes drift close. Despite appearances, I am not relaxed. And despite her cool demeanor, the woman standing across from me hates being ignored.

“Lucius, I cannot take this any longer.” Through the slits in my eyelids, I see her jaw is tight and her hands are clenched, her knuckles white.

“What can you not take any longer, exactly?” I do not move; I don’t open my eyes to meet hers, I don’t lift my head to give her my undivided attention. I sit, my mind reeling with possible scenarios, each worse than the last.

I bring my Scotch to my mouth and take a drink.

“You’ve changed these past five years. I always thought we shared the same goals, the same ideals, but nothing is as it should be.”

She Accios my drink from my hand, and I hear the clink of her rings against the crystal. She will proceed to finish my Scotch, unless I make some sort of protest. To hold out my hand for the return of my drink would be paying her too much attention. To ignore it for the time being is the better option. But I fucking hate her stealing my drink.

Five years? Five years ago the Dark Lord rose to power, five years ago my son’s life was thrown into mortal danger, five years ago, everything that I had worked so hard for was ripped from me. The ideals I believed in when I was younger died when I became a father. The day the Dark Lord was resurrected was the day I began to pray to every deity I could name, both magical and, gods help me, Muggle, to spare my son’s life, that he would not suffer the same fate or make the same mistakes as me. So far, it has worked. With Severus teaching at Hogwarts, Draco is out of Voldemort’s reach. Although, I suppose he is no longer at Hogwarts. My eyes drift to the desk and the photo of the older Draco.

“I would say that a great deal has happened in the past five years that would change a man.” I say absently.

“That’s just it, Luc! You haven’t changed! One would think that surviving the war, narrowly escaping a conviction from the Wizengamot, after overturning the judgment against the MLE confiscating our home, you would have changed.”

“I have changed because I haven’t changed? Narcissa, perhaps you don’t need my drink after all.” With no small amount of satisfaction, I Summon my Scotch.

While I may have shown amusement over Narcissa’s inane comment, I am faint with relief. The war is over! The most I can do at the moment, however, is take one calming breath. To do more would convey a higher level of interest in this conversation, and I need her to keep talking. There is much information I still need.

“How would you have me change then, hmmm?”

“Take an interest in our future, for one thing! You used to do that at one time. Care about our future. My future.” The carelessly added words at the end of her rant are telling. It is her future that concerns her. Of course, I say nothing, but let the tension build, wait for her continue.

“Luc, this is our future! But I am the one trying to clear our name; I am the one trying to ingratiate ourselves back into society. I am the one working tirelessly, these damned Friday evening dinner parties not to mention volunteering at charity events. I am doing everything possible to return us to the society that has turned its back on us!”

She begins to pace, her footsteps beating a rhythm on the hard floor with her high, thin heels.

A society filled with names that I don’t recognize? Muggle-borns and Half-bloods? What kind of society is this?

I utter the words aloud, unable to hide the condemnation in my voice. I had perused her guest list earlier and didn’t recognize a single name. I was sure not one Pureblood was present. I’d even gone so far as to check Debrett’s Wizarding Peerage, and nothing. These classless, Muggle people had been in my home, and I’d no recollection as to why.

“Those people, Lucius, are the new society. Yes, they are Half-bloods and Mudbloods, Muggle-borns, and as detestable as they are, we need them if we are to keep our place.”

I lift my head and open my eyes. She has always been obsessed with society and appearances, and the Dark Lord played on this, drawing Narcissa into his plot to annihilate the Muggles. Voldemort had promised her jewels and tiaras; he had assured her that once his plan to cleanse the island was complete, a new day would dawn, and with it, a new family to lead his loyal subjects. She despised being denied that which Muggles had, she wanted the fame, the glory, and the power. What she had failed to recognize, or maybe she did and didn't care, was that if she were the queen, there would need to be a king, and surely the Dark One was coveting that position for himself. Where I had fit into her plans was not a concern she dwelt on. It was this thought, this betrayal in my own home, that had made me all the more desperate to save Draco, to put him beyond her reach.

It would appear five years and the defeat of the Dark Lord hasn't changed her aspirations.

She walks towards the study door, apparently finished, and I am grateful. She has given me much to dwell on for one evening.

“We keep having this same conversation, Luc. You know where I stand. It appears you need to make some decisions.” She does not threaten lightly. She exits more quietly than she entered.

I sit, unmoving on the sofa, attempting to process what I have learned.

The war has ended. What happened? I will need to find out all that has happened with Voldemort. Has he been vanquished? Who killed him if he is indeed dead?

Draco. My son. He is safe. Narcissa knows if she truly wanted to sway me, all she needed to do is mention what is best for Draco. He is finally out from under her thumb, then.

My head is buzzing with questions. First thing tomorrow, I will speak with Draco. The knot in my chest is released in a great gust of breath, and the muscles in my throat convulse. Expelling a heavy sigh, I reach for my drink. Empty.

Under control once more, I pour my third Scotch of the evening. After speaking with Draco, I will Floo Severus; he will undoubtedly be able to give me answers. I look down at my hand still clutching the small bit of parchment. Hermione Granger, it says. Well, she’ll be easy enough to find. Absently, I rub my face with my hand, and the parchment scratches my nose. In disgust, I turn sharply on my heel and Apparate to my private suite. I am tired beyond belief and need some sleep.

I’ll begin to figure this mess out in the morning.

A huge thank you to my two wonderful betas, Wildcatcdc and Sc010f! You ladies rock!