Covered in Crimson

One Year and Seven Months Ago

“This is much more difficult than I ever thought it would be, Narcissa,” Lucius complained. “All these weeks with no contact with you has made it feel like you really were dead and buried.” He had a tight grip on her hands, and it seemed that he never intended to release them. His eyes were suspiciously misty.

“I know it’s been hard on you, love. It’s been awful for me too, cooped up either here at Andy’s or in the dungeons at Hogwarts, but it will be worth it in the end. You’ll see,” she soothed, pulling her husband into her arms. She’d only seen him so emotional three times before in the twenty-five years they’d known each other. The first had been the first time they’d really made love rather than simply fulfilling marital obligations. The second had been the day Draco was born. The third had been when that same boy had beaten his mother to a bloody pulp. She wondered briefly what he’d been like at her memorial service; oh, to have been a fly on that wall – for any number of reasons. “It would have been too dangerous for us to meet before now.”

“I know you’re right, but that doesn’t make this forced separation any more palatable. It’s hard to believe that it has already been four months since your ‘death’ was mourned at the Manor,” he recalled. He shuddered slightly as he remembered the formal three-day mourning period, and snorted a grim laugh. “You would have been gratified to see how many people came to pay their respects.”

“Did Draco come?” she wondered, her curiosity winning out over her reluctance to dredge up a sore subject.

“Yes, he did, and it was all I could do to stop myself from strangling him with my bare hands,” he snipped out through grinding jaws.

“Lucius, we’ll not have this argument again. He doesn’t remember what happened, and I never want him to know. What purpose would it serve?”

“So that I have a reason to beat the crap out of him.”

“Well, it was obviously an… unpleasant experience, but you found me so quickly that I didn’t suffer for more than a few minutes. You missed your calling, Lucius. You should have been a Healer,” Narcissa quipped, hoping to divert his attention from his misplaced anger at their son.

“That’s not the point. He was violent with you, his own mother, over chocolates, of all things. If I hadn’t been more worried about you that night, I would likely have killed him.”

“And how would that have been an acceptable outcome? He is our son, Lucius, and he’s sick. That incident made it thoroughly plain that we were right about the truffles having been tainted. It was a blessing in disguise.”

“I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to forgive him for what he did to you.” He looked away, unable to meet her eyes.

She placed her delicate hand on his cheek and drew his gaze back to hers. “Lucius, I already have, and I wish you could let it go. I’m thoroughly convinced he was not, and is not, in his right mind or in control of his own actions. I’m getting so much closer to discovering what’s in the truffles, I just know it. I feel confident that we will find a way to reverse the damage that’s been done to our boy.”

“But what he did to you…”

She stopped him with a raised brow and a pointed glare. “He will never know. Do you think that he’d be able to live with himself? I don’t. I will not put that guilt on him when I feel certain it was not his fault. I am his mother, and I know the sensitive child that he was before he was exposed to all this darkness. I have to believe that the little boy who loved us so much is still buried in him somewhere. I will do everything in my power to ensure that what’s happened does not consume him. I can’t do it without your support, Lucius, so again I beg of you, please let it go.”

Lucius sighed deeply in frustration. He would not be able to sway her on this, regardless of how angry he was with his son. She had a point in noting that the boy was likely not in control of his own actions, but what Draco had done was utterly inexcusable. How could he reconcile the two opposing viewpoints? He knew his son’s reputation as a mechanical killer and torturer among the Death Eater ranks; he never dreamed that those tendencies would have been used against his own family. This was not an argument that would be settled today, however.

“When will you return to Hogwarts?” he wondered, glancing around the Tonks’ comfortable sitting room.

“The day after tomorrow. Andy and Ted will be back tomorrow evening, and Nymphadora will accompany me to the castle in the early morning hours.”

“So we have tonight completely alone?”

“Yes, dear. Why?”

“It has been four very long months, ma coeur. Will you let me make love to you?”

Her laughter bubbled as he nibbled at her neck. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, cher.”

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It had been two weeks since Narcissa’s reunion with her husband and she had been obsessed the entire time with pinpointing the remaining three ingredients in Draco’s truffles. Progress had been slow, because her analysis had shown that the potion was not found in any standard recipe compilation, including the numerous dark magic texts found exclusively in the Malfoy and Black family libraries. This had been a custom-made concoction, ensuring that its ingredients, their proportions, and their ultimate purpose were a mystery to anyone but the creator.

Narcissa was motivated, though, by her love for her family and her dogged determination to solve this problem. In that, Albus Dumbledore had told her that she was very much like a certain curly-haired Gryffindor. Having met that young woman a couple of times at her sister’s home, Mrs. Malfoy could not disagree. The girl was relentless, a quality the youngest of the Black sisters admired immensely.

As Narcissa’s scrutiny began to yield results, she began to tackle the broader questions inherent in the problem. Who would have the technical ability to execute such a plan? Who would have the motivation, and what would that be? How would they have been able to circumvent the elaborate security measures that were in place at the Malfoy estate? Why Draco? The evidence was daunting, and it was making her heartsick. She didn’t want to believe how the details were adding up, but every question seemed to yield the same answers: Her sister Bellatrix and her husband Rodolphus were among the prime suspects.

She’d begun to catalogue her findings, and had developed an elaborate matrix that covered the two large blackboards in the late Severus Snape’s personal laboratory. Narcissa was methodical and meticulous. She felt highly confident that she’d made no errors; every item had been checked at least four times to ensure both factual accuracy and conclusions drawn.

She was still missing something, though, besides the final three unidentified ingredients, never mind the spells that were undoubtedly attached to the packaging. Her success on that front had been substantially less than desired; there were still at least two more layers of shielding she’d been unable to penetrate. The biggest unanswered question, assuming that her sister and brother-in-law were involved, was their motivation. Why had they done this to Draco? She was no closer to that answer than she’d been six months ago. Maybe it was time to bring in another set of eyes.

That thought led her to the office of former Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore one more time. Her usual disguise and “notice-me-not” charms were firmly in place as she spoke the password to gain entrance to the wizard’s inner sanctum. She nearly turned around on the steps when she heard that the elder man was in conversation with another person, not wishing to test her alternate persona any more than necessary. It was quite a shock when she heard her name – her real name – spoken by Dumbledore’s visitor. The shock turned immediately to delight when she heard enough of the other man’s voice to confirm that it was her husband with whom he was meeting. She resumed her path on the stairway.

“Ah, here she is,” Albus noted.

Both men rose as Narcissa entered the room, Lucius opening his arms in invitation of an embrace. He pulled her close, shutting his eyes and burying his face in her neck. “I’ve missed you so,” he whispered.

That he would be so demonstrative with a witness in the room stunned her, but she did not pull away. There was also something decidedly odd about her husband holding this other version of her.

Albus cleared his throat, a not-so-subtle reminder to the couple that they were not alone, and waited a moment until he had their undivided attention. “I understand that you’ve made more progress in your analysis, Narcissa.”

“Yes, Albus, that’s true, but I think I could use some help to make further strides. I have gathered so much data, but I feel strongly that I’m missing something. Would you be willing to assist me in a review of my findings?”

“I’d be happy to help in any way you think would be helpful, my dear,” he assured her.

“That would be most welcome.” Narcissa sighed with relief, believing that her roadblock might soon be lifted.

“May I assume that you would like some time with your husband, Narcissa?”

A wry smile split Lucius’ face and his wife tore her gaze away from him to answer their protector. “You assume correctly, Albus.”

“Well, then, why don’t you retire for the evening and we’ll get started on our project in the morning, hmmm?”

“A fine idea, Albus,” Lucius agreed, never taking his eyes off the strange exterior appearance presented by the woman he knew to be his wife. “Is there a secure passage to the dungeons? As you well know, it would be…inappropriate for me to be seen in the castle,” he stated, the obvious problems not needing to be spoken.

“Of course, allow me to escort you,” Dumbledore offered.

Three Hours Later

Narcissa, her disguises long discarded, lay snuggled in Lucius’ embrace with her thoughts whirring. She grinned as she heard him murmur and snore lightly in his slumber. Reluctant as she was to wake her husband from his rest, there was much to discuss before he would need to leave her in the pre-dawn hours. She reached up to stroke his cheek, hearing the echo of a rasp as her fingers brushed against his light stubble. “Lucius,” she whispered.

“Hmm? Pardon?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep.

“It’s almost half four; you’ll need to leave soon.”

“I’m up,” he replied, but his eyes remained firmly closed and his arms refused to relinquish the soft, warm woman they enfolded.

The amusement in her voice was unmistakable as she answered. “So I see. We need to talk about something before you go, cher.”

With a deep-chested rumble, the sleepy and sated wizard shifted so that his wife’s body was now tugged up to drape across his torso. “What would you like to discuss, ma coeur?”

“I have reached some troubling conclusions about who may be behind Draco’s addiction to those abhorrent truffles.”

That was enough to both bring the man fully awake and to settle an uncomfortable chill upon the warm afterglow in which he’d been basking. “I have my own thoughts on that subject, too, but I’d love to hear yours first.”

“I hate to believe it, but I suspect that either my sister or her husband may have deep involvement in this terrible scheme.”

Lucius’ sigh was one of resignation and concurrence. “I’ve thought the same for several weeks. In fact, I think they are acting together. I’ve been actively looking for proof, but without success thus far.”

“That’s been my challenge as well, and of course I’ve been severely limited by my self-imposed exile,” she acknowledged.

“What in your research has led you to this suspicion?” he wondered, curious whether she had noted the same things he had, or had found other clues he might have missed.

“That’s the problem. There has been nothing concrete. I’ve been thinking mostly about who would have the ability, the access, and the cunning to pull off a scheme of this duration and complexity, and my sister fits the bill in every case. I also remember how anxious she was to have Draco join the Dark Lord’s service, which could count as motive. The one thing that I don’t understand is why she would do something that would so fundamentally and drastically change her own nephew’s basic nature.”

“You give your sister too much credit for humanity, Narcissa. She has never once hesitated to behave as brutally and ruthlessly as the Dark Lord himself when it comes to achieving her aims.” He hesitated briefly as he recalled the memory of a conversation years earlier with his brother-in-law. “I think the bottom line may have been revenge against me for being reluctant to commit Draco to become a Death Eater a little more than a year before he was actually branded with the Mark. You may remember that Rodolphus came to me when Draco was still just fourteen years old, trying to force me to allow him to be enlisted, and I refused because I thought he was too young. You may also recall the huge row you and I had about it.”

“I do. That was when I reunited with Andy.”

“Rodolphus was livid that I had refused his intimidating suggestion. I think that he was embarrassed to admit his failure to the Dark Lord, and he and Bella decided to take matters into their own hands. This was as much an attack against us as it was a manipulation of Draco. He was used for their purposes as a way to punish us for our lack of enthusiasm in giving our son over to the Dark Lord.”

“Regardless of why she – or they – did it, I will not let this stand unanswered. We need to find proof, and then we need to make them pay for what they’ve done to our family,” Narcissa vowed.

Lucius disentangled his limbs from hers and propped himself up on his elbows in the narrow bed. “You’ll not have an argument from me on that count. They will pay dearly, if I have anything to say about it. I do have an idea about how to gain some evidence, but it’s not entirely legal. You may be able to help me on that, if you’re willing to take a little risk.”

“Did you really think you needed to ask, Lucius?” she teased, one eyebrow raised in an eerie reflection of her son’s characteristic pose.

“Good. Then we’ll need to raid the cabinets for a few ingredients before I leave.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Three Weeks Later

Hermione Granger had been working for more months than she could remember on this one problem. Five Horcruxes had been located and destroyed. The Horcrux that they were certain would be found inside Voldemort’s familiar, Nagini, would not be accessible until a final confrontation. That left one solitary piece of the madman’s soul unidentified, and thus, it’s location unknown. Until today, Hermione thought, at least I know what it is, if not where to find it.

The Order’s deep cover informant had come through once again, and had provided enough clues and insight to confirm that the last Horcrux had indeed belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw as suspected and chances were about ninety-nine and a half percent that it had been the diadem she wore in the formal portrait that hung in the former Ravenclaw common room.

This knowledge was one enormous weight lifted off the young woman’s shoulders. There was only one piece of data, albeit a critical and pivotal one, still missing. The search had begun in earnest then, and Hermione and her teammate, Neville Longbottom, had spent the next weeks after learning about the Horcrux’s identity in a desperate and full-tilt review of every town, village, street, and building that the Hogwarts co-founder had been known to visit. Though the correlation was not direct, where she might have left the item could lead them to where Voldemort had hidden it.

While the two former Gryffindors continued their search for the missing golden headpiece, the fight raged on in the outside world. The only factor limiting the death toll these days was a grim one – there had already been so many losses that the pickings were slimming dramatically. The expansion of the fight to Muggles had only been mitigated now by the decreased number of Death Eaters. That they were fewer in number made them no less coldblooded, however. The proportion of injuries to deaths had decreased. If they found you, they killed you. St. Mungo’s had not done much more than confirm a cause of death and process the bodies for burial, if the corpse had even been transported there.

The war had long since expanded beyond the borders of Great Britain and spilled onto the European continent. News of the lingering conflict had obviously spread throughout the Wizarding world, but the Americans, Asians, and Africans had thus far taken a “wait and see” approach, officially neither interfering nor lending support to either side. Back-channel aid in the form of funding and limited intelligence gathering had found its way to the Ministry-in-Exile, but it seemed that no one outside of Europe had the stomach to get involved in the fight, regardless of how distressing the circumstances had become. The Order - otherwise nicknamed “Dumbledore’s Army” - and loyal Ministry Aurors were on their own. This demoralizing fact made the work of Granger and Longbottom that much more critical, and now the weeks of searching had stretched to three months. They’d both acknowledge readily that it felt more like three years.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“Albus! Come to the lab as quickly as you can!” Narcissa shrieked excitedly over their secure Floo connection.

Her request for his presence was urgent enough that the former Headmaster dropped everything he’d been doing to appear at the woman’s side in less than the blink of an eye. He was amused that she hadn’t flinched an inch at his abrupt entrance.

“I take it you have news to share?” he prompted.

The broad grin stretching her cheeks was all the answer he needed.

“What have you found?” he encouraged.

“The last ingredient. I’ve got it. Five separate tests have confirmed it and I’m absolutely certain that it’s a rare species of lacewing fly legs. If you combine that with the cocaine derivative that we found last week, it would extend the addictive properties by at least thirty percent,” she announced, marveling at her sister’s ingenuity while still being utterly disgusted at the results.

“That certainly explains why Draco seems to crave these horrid little things so desperately. He’d have terrible withdrawal symptoms if he went even ten or twelve hours without a new infusion. It’s no wonder that he became violent with you when you tried to deny him access to those damnable concoctions. He truly was unable to help himself, I’d wager.”

“I’m sad to say that I agree. Now that we have a complete list of ingredients, we can begin to deconstruct all the elements of this potion and what it would do to a wizard’s system. That should be our next step. Once that’s complete, we can get to work on an antidote.”

“I concur in your assessment, Narcissa. Let’s take a moment to review what we already know about the likely results of these ingredients in combination.”

Two Hours Later

A spirited exchange of ideas and theories had left both Narcissa and Albus mentally exhausted but pleased with the progress they’d made. Their conclusions were an enormous step forward, but they still had to contend with the charms and enchantments on the packaging. With at least one - and probably two – layers of shielded remaining, they had yet to make progress on how the package might interact with the potions contained in the truffles.

They knew without a doubt at least four major effects of the tainted treats. First, they were highly addictive and would cause severe withdrawal reactions and deep cravings that would only be ignored under great pains. Second, there were combinations of ingredients that were most often used to substantially reduce inhibitions. These were highly illegal Class C Non-Tradeable Substances, most often used as the Wizarding equivalent of Muggle “date rape” drugs. The third effect was anger inducement. The consumer would rarely feel at peace and would develop a hair-trigger temper. The fourth known result, and the one most troubling to both Narcissa and Albus, was the likely potion-form equivalent of the Imperius curse. Their ultimate conclusion was that Draco Malfoy had been under the potion-maker’s control for as long as he’d been eating the poisoned treats. While they had no solid evidence of the timing yet, both suspected that it may have been as long as five years.

The emotionally drained woman slumped against the large marble table they’d been using for final testing and confirmation. “This is just surreal,” she whispered aloud, feeling overwhelmed at both their heartbreaking discoveries and the enormous volume of work that would be required to create an effective antidote. “I’m not even sure where to begin, Albus. What do we tackle first?”

“I suggest that you do nothing tonight, my dear. You are completely exhausted, and you’ll be of no use to your son if you make mistakes, so I insist that you take a Dreamless Sleep draught tonight. In the morning, you and I will meet again to map out a strategy.”

“You’re probably right. I can’t even see straight, never mind think clearly,” she agreed, if a bit reluctantly. “What will we do about the shielding on the packaging, though?”

“I will relieve you of that task so that you can work strictly on building the antidote. Of course, I will provide whatever assistance I can on that front, as well, but you are a far more capable Potions expert than I.”

“But you’ve been so instrumental in…” she began.

He interrupted her with a raised hand and a kindly smile. “I’ve done nothing more than act as a sounding board for your own discoveries and ideas. Every step of progress has been your own.”

“That may be, Albus, but without that sounding board and your wise and thoughtful questions, I would not have made those strides in a decade,” she complimented him.

He chuckled softly. “Have faith in yourself, Narcissa. It will be what ultimately heals your family.”

With that, the aging wizard waved his goodbye and departed, leaving the witch to contemplate what her next step would be in assuring that her broken family could indeed be repaired. She feared that, in spite of the progress that had been made, the path would not be an easy one.