and more fic!
Jul. 17th, 2007 08:49 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rivendellroseI know I promised a while ago that I'd written my last in the little first-war collection of fics, at least until the last book comes out... but I apparently I lied. Turns out there was one last bit that demanded writing. Fortunately it came to me just in time for me to finish it before the last book comes out.
Title: The Coming Storm
Fandom: HP
Characters: Narcissa, Snape, Lupin
Timeline: Set during the first war, somewhere between set in this era, and presuming their backstory. I'll try to edit this to include the links soon, but they're not strictly necessary.
Notes: Unbeta'd and written a bit quickly due to time constraints - if you find any errors, please do let me know!
Summary: Narcissa and Remus find a few things in common, and two school friends share a tense understanding.
Rating: P-G
The Coming Storm
Rain poured down the guttered roofs of Knockturn Alley, drenching the cobbles below, and the slight cloaked figure who hurried along them. Narcissa Malfoy, until recently of the family Black, reached a gloved hand out of the woolen folds to pull the cloak more tightly about herself, rearranged her parcels under her arm, and paused in a doorway to reassess her surroundings. It had to be around here somewhere. As much as she almost wished she was wrong, she’d been quite sure of the address.
After a few moments, she managed to pick the rusted numerals marking number one-thirty-seven through the silvered evening haze, and skittered across the way to knock sharply on the door.
At first, nothing. She knocked again, and had nearly despaired and resigned herself to running back through the rain to find shelter at the Leaky Cauldron or some such to wait out the storm - the embarrassment of such a thing, to be seen leaving, and then returning again such a short time later, and in such a state! - when the rickety door suddenly swung open. The figure inside, however, was not the one she had expected.
“Lupin?”
“Miss Black? I mean, Mrs. Malfoy.” Remus blinked. “Sorry, I... are you alright?”
“Quite,” she assured him, drawing herself up as best she could under the weight of sodden and dripping wool and the rain that still poured down on her head and shoulders. “Only I seem to have gotten my address book wrong somehow. I was looking for Severus’ flat. Do you know where it is?”
Color bled into Lupin’s pale cheeks. “No, you’ve, um. You’ve got it right. He lives here. That is to say, we’re flatmates. The rent...” He scrubbed a hand through his ragged light brown hair, mussing it if possible even further than before. “’Fraid we were both in a bit of a spot for money, you see.”
“I understand.” Narcissa nodded briskly. All the Slytherins had been aware of the tenuous nature of Severus’ financial situation, which was to say they all knew that his father had made several loud and stern pronouncements that once the boy left school, he’d have seen his last knut from the family coffers. She hadn’t been aware that Lupin was in similar straights, but neither was she particularly surprised at the revelation. “I hope you’ll forgive the disruption, then, but - is he in?”
“No, he’s got work of some kind tonight. Between odd jobs and this lab he’s working for, he’s out at all hours.” Lupin hesitated awkwardly. “Look, Narcissa, it’s a regular deluge out there... why don’t you come in? I can make us some tea, or... I don’t know when he’ll get home, but if you want to wait...”
“It’s quite alright, it wasn’t a matter of any urgency. I was only passing by on some errands, and I thought...” A particularly nasty gust of wind flushed a gout of water right down onto her. “I thought I’d get out of the rain!” she sputtered in sudden desperation. “If you don’t mind, please...”
“Not at all, not at all!” Remus stepped back hurriedly to make way, then closed the door firmly and latched it behind her. “Sorry about that, I got a bit flustered, and I... I should’ve invited you right away, only it’s not as though we were ever really friends, and I wasn’t sure... I didn’t know how you’d take to finding me here. And you’re a fine lady and all, so it might be a bit awkward...”
The flat was, to be honest, appalling. A single room, dingy and dark, with a ratty old mattress and a low table at the center, and a small stove and sink set up at the other side. A single, small window looked out right into a streetlamp and an opposing brick wall, probably another set of tenements. Books were scattered everywhere and piled in stacks around the edges of the room, and the dishes around the sink seemed to be the relics of cooking and potions experiments about equally. Lupin himself stood in the middle of it all in ratty jeans, a brown jumper, and much-darned socks.
“It’s quite alright,” she repeated. “I was surprised, of course.” Narcissa dragged her cloak off and watched helplessly as it dripped all over the floor. Her boots and the hem of her robes were soaked as well, but there was nothing to be done about that. “But it’s not as though you’re a stranger. We went to school together, for goodness’ sake. It’s not as though you’re going to savage me,” she added with a soft smile. “Is there someplace I might hang this without it being a bother?”
“Oh! Sure, here.” A hook over by the sink, probably intended for a tea towel of some kind, sufficed. “You can take off your boots, too, if you like. Stove’s on, now, so it ought to heat up in here a bit. Sorry about the place,” Lupin added, glancing around with a look of shy embarrassment. “We haven’t done much cleaning lately.”
“Don’t be worried in the slightest,” Narcissa assured him calmly, determined not to be rude. She’d seen worse, she was sure, on charity excursions with her mother, although she couldn’t exactly think of any examples just now... and in any case, it was imperative that a proper lady show no kind of upset that would shame a good host. And despite their somewhat rocky background and the poor circumstances, Remus was being a perfectly polite host. That made it easier.
“Erm. Thanks. Erm. Tea, then? Just... sit wherever you like, the mattress is probably the best choice - that chair over there’s a bit suspect, if you ask me, and it’s the only one we’ve got. Anyhow, the mattress is more comfortable. I’m sorry, but the tea’s packets... I’m out of the loose, and Severus hasn’t bothered to buy more. He thinks it’s a bother, anyhow.”
She’d never had tea from packets before, and the idea somewhat appalled her. “I don’t mind,” she lied.
“Let’s see... I’ve got some biscuits around here someplace...” Lupin stretched up and reached up to his shoulder into a cupboard above the sink. “They’re, erm... hang on. Got ‘em!” The little tin seemed to have been buried as far back as possible, and Narcissa thought she saw him dusting it surrepticiously against the side of his sweater, but once opened they were revealed to be plain but nice, neat little butter biscuits of a cheap but not terrible brand. “The, erm... the milk’s tinned...”
“I take my tea black,” Narcissa assured him quickly, nervous to think of exactly what tinned milk meant.
“Ah. I’m sorry, I haven’t got any lemon...”
“Quite alright.”
“Got sugar, though. Or honey, if you prefer - Severus keeps it ‘round for the potions, but he won’t mind, for you.”
“Sugar, please. Just a little.”
Lupin smiled. “It’s not like you’ve got to watch your figure.” His face fell, then. “Not like... no, I just meant that it’s good. I mean... I’m sorry, Mrs. Malfoy.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She couldn’t help laughing, at that point - he was simply too desperate to please. “And please, call me Narcissa. I hear ‘Mrs. Malfoy’ all day from the other ladies, and I haven’t yet gotten over the temptation to look over my shoulder for Lucius’ mother.”
“Okay.” He grinned back at her, handing over a neat, if slightly chipped mug of blessedly hot tea. “Call me Remus, then.”
“I shall, thank you. You and Severus have gotten to be friends, then, since school?” she continued delicately. She could guess at the nature of that friendship - there was, as near as she could see, only the one bed in the flat, and no sign that either of them slept elsewhere - but direct reference would be more than rude at this point. “I wasn’t aware that you were ever close.”
“We weren’t, really. Not ‘til a few years ago, and even then... He’s a hard bloke to know, you know?”
“I do.” She sipped her tea solemnly. “And yet, it seems that he’s comfortable with you. I’m sure you’re aware how rare a thing that is for him.”
“I am, yeah.” Remus fiddled for a moment with his own mug, staring into its depths. “I’m... lucky.”
Narcissa smiled softly, squashing a little feeling of triumph at her theory being proved correct. “I expect you both are. Severus doesn’t make friends lightly.” If there was the slightest emphasis on ‘friends,’ Remus did a good job of pretending not to notice. “Only I wonder whether it doesn’t make things difficult for you, with my... with your friends,” she finished quickly, remembering just in time that Sirius Black was no longer to be thought of as any part of her family. “Mr. Potter was certainly never very subtle about his distaste for Severus.”
“Your lot wasn’t exactly subtle about not liking us, either,” Remus remarked. It was a defense without rancor or, Narcissa noticed, much conviction. The boy really was a bit of a wet blanket.
“I don’t suppose we were,” she allowed. “But I don’t recall my friends hanging any of yours upside-down by their ankles in front of the school at large, do you? In any case,” she continued calmly, to show there weren’t any great hard feelings, “clearly if Severus can get past that there’s no reason for me to hold a grudge on his behalf. I’m only curious... and you haven’t yet answered my question. I know... your friends. They won’t be making this easy for you.”
“You can say his name, you know.”
She took a slow sip of tea, and smiled the society smile she’d long since perfected for use when a genuine smile was the last thing on her mind. “Sirius,” she said calmly.
“He’s still your cousin, no matter what your aunt did to him.”
“I won’t discuss this with you, Lupin. I may disapprove - or not - of my family’s decision on that matter, but I will not debate the merits of that action with an outsider. You wouldn’t understand.”
“And I won’t discuss my relationship with my friends with you.”
Narcissa was impressed, this time, by the quiet steel in Lupin’s voice. She’d never credited him with that sort of resolve, and found, now that she saw it, that it demanded a bit of respect. “Very well, then. Perhaps we understand each other better than I would have thought. Remus,” she added, raising her teacup slightly in his direction.
Remus flushed and crossed his arms over his chest as though he wasn’t sure he liked being complimented by her, but nodded nonetheless. “Right, then. So you, er... you and Severus been friends long?” he asked, skirting back to their one moderately safe topic of conversation.
“We didn’t know each other as children, if that’s what you’re asking - not before we came to Hogwarts. My mother was friendly with Eileen Prince when she was a young woman, of course, but after the marriage they... didn’t travel in the same circles anymore.” She set her empty teacup precisely on the rickety little table, and waved off Remus’ reach for the kettle. “We never knew his father, and none of us met Severus himself until he came to school.”
“Is that why you made friends with him, then? Because of your mothers? I mean, not like that would be the only reason, but--” He coloured again, and fidgeted with his hands in a way Narcissa’d never noticed him doing at school. Maybe she really hadn’t paid enough attention to him, back then.
“Perhaps that was something to it,” she allowed. “My mother always spoke highly of Eileen, said how kind she was, what a brilliant student she’d been. And how certain decisions that she had made... were not entirely her own fault. A person cannot see the ends of all the choices he or she makes, particularly as regards alliances of the heart, can they?”
Remus swallowed. It might have been a trick of the poor light, but Narcissa could have sworn that he looked a bit ill. “His dad.”
Narcissa inclined her head gracefully. “These things happen... even in the best of families, at times. The Prince family was among the best in Wizarding Britain at one time, allied often with my family down the ages. To think that a single poor match... whether out of sentimentality or ill judgment... Well. Any woman knows the fear of that situation.”
“You and Malfoy, then... Was that an arranged marriage?”
“Of course not.” Narcissa made a sound that, from a lady of any less high breeding, would have certainly been called a snort. “I love my husband dearly, thank you. A marriage need not be brokered or empty of feeling to be prudent.”
“Sure doesn’t help, though, I’d imagine.” Remus eyed her in the darkness for a moment. “Sirius told me, once, that there’d been talk of engaging you two to be married. Your dads had talked about it when you were young.”
Narcissa winced. It was just like Sirius to spread the darker corners of the family’s history into the light of every streetcorner. “I do recall some mention of that at one point, yes. I don’t believe it was ever a serious consideration, however.” Whether or not that was primarily a function of Sirius’ rebellion and early expulsion from the family, she left unspoken. Let the Gryffindor boy take that as he would - she would give him no more details than he’d already been fed. “Families bandy this sort of thing all the time - it’s a source of constant amusement for the ladies of high society, particularly as a way of frightening the younger generation.”
“They threatened marriage on you?”
She shrugged. “Better than boggarts, for a child who learns her first charms in the nursery.”
“Right.” Remus shifted again, awkwardly. “I guess that would make things--”
The door wrenched open with an indignant shriek and a rush of cold air, admitting a sodden, black-clad figure. Only the long, sallow fingers that shoved the door and the hanks of streaming black hair hanging out of the hood assured Narcissa of the intruder’s identity.
“Good evening, Severus,” she said softly.
“Narcissa? Is everything...” He hesitated, glancing in Remus’ direction. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. I went out on a few errands this afternoon, and I’m afraid the rain caught me unawares. I thought to stop by here, to see you, but you were out... Remus let me in. He probably saved me from my death of cold,” she added with cheer that was only a little bit forced. “I have to commend your choice of acquaintance. We’ve had some tea and a lovely chat while we waited for you.”
“Indeed.” The tall boy pushed back his hood and looked from one to the other, eyes narrowing slightly as he searched them both. “Good, then, I suppose. Did you need something, then?”
“Only to see my old friend.” Narcissa stood and offered him the ratty afghan Remus had pressed on her when she came in, which he declined. He did not, she noticed, turn down the mug of hot tea that Lupin pressed into his hands, nor did her notoriously prickly former schoolmate protest or shy away when the other boy stepped well into his personal space in the process of maneuvering around the furniture. There was no other sign - their hands didn’t linger over-long as the cup changed hands, there wasn’t any excessive or untoward contact when Lupin pulled off the other boy’s dripping cloak. A year before, these details would have seemed wanting to Narcissa. Now that she had been married a year and knew the comfortable familiarity that settled, tempered smooth, into the hollow burned by a truly loving passion, she recognized in the lack exactly the clues she needed to cement her prior judgment.
“Your husband is well, I trust.” It wasn’t a question, and Severus’ eyes caught and held hers for the barest fraction of an instant, conveying assurance.
A tendril of fear loosed its grip on Narcissa’s stomach. “Quite well, thank you. He’s been given charge of a few rather particular domestic projects at the Ministry, I’m proud to say. We’re very pleased. And your research?”
“Continues as always, whenever I have a free moment from the blasted jobs that actually pay.” Severus waved his hand impatiently at their surroundings. “I’ve had to barter too much of my work just to get a bit of decent lab space now and then. I can’t work here.”
“Surely we can find a patron for you...”
“I won’t take your charity, Narcissa.”
She lowered her head and licked her lip, embarrassed both by the sharpness of the tone he adopted, and the shame she’d clearly caused him to bring it on. “You know that isn’t how I meant it.”
“I know. But I’m not one of your projects.”
“You never were,” she assured him softly. “If Lucius should happen to know of someone in the ministry who needs a good hand at potions, though...”
He hesitated, and Narcissa’s heart twinged to see him weighing his impressive personal dignity against what was clearly a deep and painful poverty in which both of them were mired. “Should he know of such a position, I will consider it.”
“I know he’ll be grateful for that.”
Silence gathered for a moment, and then Remus stood abruptly. “You two look like... erm... I’ll just get the dishes washed, shall I? It’s my turn.” He gathered up the tea things in a rush, and then turned his back to them and turned on a clattering, glugging old spigot that made only slightly less racket than some of the smaller waterfalls Narcissa had seen on holidays. “Don’t mind me,” he added in a loud voice, and then set about to scrubbing.
“Narcissa?” Severus repeated, pulling her to the side a bit so they could speak in relative privacy.
“It’s nothing, Severus, really - just what I told you when I came in. I was bored at the manor, is all, and lonely, and I thought I’d do a bit of shopping to take my mind off things.”
“Perhaps you’d be less lonely if your house weren’t the size of a fair-sized village.”
“It’s a family home, Severus. Malfoy Manor has been the seat of Lucius’ family since they came to this country.”
“And before that it no doubt belonged to some native lord who they turned out or murdered.”
“Severus.”
He snorted and shook his head. “It’s true, Narcissa, and you bloody well know it.”
“Well, we can’t all have been in England since the dark ages, can we?” She smiled, and to her relief her friend offered an approving sneer in return.
“In any event, woman, I don’t see why you would come here, of all places, even if you were lonely. This isn’t exactly an abode of comfort.”
“No, but... I wanted to see you. You always have something interesting to say, and I thought... I don’t know. I spend six days out of the week lunching and taking tea with the vapid wives of all sorts of bloated ministry officials, Severus - women twice my age who think nothing of treating me as though I still haven’t had my society debut, or spend all their time speculating on why I’m not yet carrying the next heir to the Malfoy line and giving me their own ancient family remedies for infertility. And I must always be grateful and nothing but polite, mustn’t I, because they could each one of them make or break my husband’s career with a single insipid word across their cold pillows. I hate it, Severus.”
“The agonizing life of the rich.” He rolled his eyes.
“You try it, then,” Narcissa growled in return. “Eight hours alone with women like that and I begin to feel myself growing just as stupid as they are. Bella’s too busy for me, lately, and the other girls from our class... oh, I don’t know. Most of them simply wouldn’t understand, and the rest talk of nothing but exactly what I want to forget.”
He raised a single eyebrow in dour and silent questioning.
“It’s not as though I...” She hesitated and listened for a moment to the clattering of Lupin’s work in the sink. “I don’t begrudge Lucius his work,” she began again, regarding Severus with significant look. “His career is of course as important to me as it is to him, and I approve of whatever sacrifices must be made to that end. I only... chafe at it, sometimes, Severus. I know that you know what I mean.”
“I do,” he admitted after a long moment. “I’m certain it’s only a matter of time, though, until he reaps the rewards of his hard work.”
“Until you all do.”
“All of us,” Severus agreed slowly. “Yourself included, Narcissa. Your hard work...”
“Means little in the end,” she dismissed lightly, “but I do my best. The loyal helpmeet, the good society wife... that’s me.” She laughed, soft and self-deprecating. “All I have to do now is bear him a son to continue his line and I’ll be canonized by all the family traditionalists.”
“I expect that’s true. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
She smiled at him, an ironic smile twisting her lips that she doubted any of her society friends would ever have recognized. “Of course it is. And what parts of it aren’t, I’ll bend to what they ought to be.”
“Ah, the boundless confidence of the family Black.”
“You love us, you know you do.” She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. She kept her face well away from his hair, but it was a fond gesture nonetheless. “Take care, Severus. Of yourself, and of him.” She glanced toward Lupin, still at least pretending blissful ignorance of their conversation, and sighed. “I won’t pretend that I altogether approve, but if it makes you happy I can’t say that it’s all bad. For what it’s worth, I wish you luck.”
Severus searched her eyes, and for a split second she could have sworn that she felt something, a twitch of sorts at the front of her mind. Then it was gone, and his gaze slipped aside from her. “You won’t mention this...”
“I won’t.”
“Not even--”
“I swear it, Severus. Not a word, not even to Lucius. On my honor as a Black.”
He snorted dismissively, and started to turn away. “You’re married, cunning wench. You’re a Malfoy, now, not a Black.”
“That’s not true and you know it, Severus.” She caught his sleeve and forced him ‘round to look her in the eyes again. “I may have taken Lucius’ name, but I will always be a Black. That will never change. And whatever happens...”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Narcissa. I know you too well. The pretty lies you spin for everyone else won’t work with me, and I don’t want to hear them.”
Narcissa released her hold on his arm, and her eyes followed her hand’s descent.
“No lies between us,” Severus told her, his voice oddly soft and reassuring. He was right, he did know her too well. “We’re beyond that, you and I. We’re Slytherins. I accept your promise, and I believe it. Don’t push it any further.”
And he was right about that, too, of course. It wasn’t lack of kindness or warm feeling that made her sure that oaths of eternal frienship made now would someday be remembered only dimly, put aside with relative ease if need ever pressed her. It was simply her nature. And the beauty of Severus - the one thing that she loved most dearly about him - was that he understood that, and accepted it with cool equanimity. His heart and mind were all science and balance, carefully-minded ledgers and cold, hard truth. Sentimentality didn’t enter into the equation.
“Goodbye, then, Severus. I’ll hope to speak to you again soon under better circumstances.” She caught his hand for a moment and squeezed it, thin and cold, between her own, and then pulled on her cloak and opened the door into the gathering evening. “Goodbye, Remus,” she called over her shoulder. “And thank you. For having me in, and for our talk.”
“You bet. You should come back sometime, if you have the chance.”
“I’ll try,” she offered, smiling a little. “Severus?”
“Yes, Narcissa?”
“I know things will be different, soon. I can feel it. I just know that things will change.”
He nodded slowly. “I think you may be right about that,” he agreed slowly, and watched her slip out the door, a thin shadow disappearing into the storm.
Title: The Coming Storm
Fandom: HP
Characters: Narcissa, Snape, Lupin
Timeline: Set during the first war, somewhere between set in this era, and presuming their backstory. I'll try to edit this to include the links soon, but they're not strictly necessary.
Notes: Unbeta'd and written a bit quickly due to time constraints - if you find any errors, please do let me know!
Summary: Narcissa and Remus find a few things in common, and two school friends share a tense understanding.
Rating: P-G
The Coming Storm
Rain poured down the guttered roofs of Knockturn Alley, drenching the cobbles below, and the slight cloaked figure who hurried along them. Narcissa Malfoy, until recently of the family Black, reached a gloved hand out of the woolen folds to pull the cloak more tightly about herself, rearranged her parcels under her arm, and paused in a doorway to reassess her surroundings. It had to be around here somewhere. As much as she almost wished she was wrong, she’d been quite sure of the address.
After a few moments, she managed to pick the rusted numerals marking number one-thirty-seven through the silvered evening haze, and skittered across the way to knock sharply on the door.
At first, nothing. She knocked again, and had nearly despaired and resigned herself to running back through the rain to find shelter at the Leaky Cauldron or some such to wait out the storm - the embarrassment of such a thing, to be seen leaving, and then returning again such a short time later, and in such a state! - when the rickety door suddenly swung open. The figure inside, however, was not the one she had expected.
“Lupin?”
“Miss Black? I mean, Mrs. Malfoy.” Remus blinked. “Sorry, I... are you alright?”
“Quite,” she assured him, drawing herself up as best she could under the weight of sodden and dripping wool and the rain that still poured down on her head and shoulders. “Only I seem to have gotten my address book wrong somehow. I was looking for Severus’ flat. Do you know where it is?”
Color bled into Lupin’s pale cheeks. “No, you’ve, um. You’ve got it right. He lives here. That is to say, we’re flatmates. The rent...” He scrubbed a hand through his ragged light brown hair, mussing it if possible even further than before. “’Fraid we were both in a bit of a spot for money, you see.”
“I understand.” Narcissa nodded briskly. All the Slytherins had been aware of the tenuous nature of Severus’ financial situation, which was to say they all knew that his father had made several loud and stern pronouncements that once the boy left school, he’d have seen his last knut from the family coffers. She hadn’t been aware that Lupin was in similar straights, but neither was she particularly surprised at the revelation. “I hope you’ll forgive the disruption, then, but - is he in?”
“No, he’s got work of some kind tonight. Between odd jobs and this lab he’s working for, he’s out at all hours.” Lupin hesitated awkwardly. “Look, Narcissa, it’s a regular deluge out there... why don’t you come in? I can make us some tea, or... I don’t know when he’ll get home, but if you want to wait...”
“It’s quite alright, it wasn’t a matter of any urgency. I was only passing by on some errands, and I thought...” A particularly nasty gust of wind flushed a gout of water right down onto her. “I thought I’d get out of the rain!” she sputtered in sudden desperation. “If you don’t mind, please...”
“Not at all, not at all!” Remus stepped back hurriedly to make way, then closed the door firmly and latched it behind her. “Sorry about that, I got a bit flustered, and I... I should’ve invited you right away, only it’s not as though we were ever really friends, and I wasn’t sure... I didn’t know how you’d take to finding me here. And you’re a fine lady and all, so it might be a bit awkward...”
The flat was, to be honest, appalling. A single room, dingy and dark, with a ratty old mattress and a low table at the center, and a small stove and sink set up at the other side. A single, small window looked out right into a streetlamp and an opposing brick wall, probably another set of tenements. Books were scattered everywhere and piled in stacks around the edges of the room, and the dishes around the sink seemed to be the relics of cooking and potions experiments about equally. Lupin himself stood in the middle of it all in ratty jeans, a brown jumper, and much-darned socks.
“It’s quite alright,” she repeated. “I was surprised, of course.” Narcissa dragged her cloak off and watched helplessly as it dripped all over the floor. Her boots and the hem of her robes were soaked as well, but there was nothing to be done about that. “But it’s not as though you’re a stranger. We went to school together, for goodness’ sake. It’s not as though you’re going to savage me,” she added with a soft smile. “Is there someplace I might hang this without it being a bother?”
“Oh! Sure, here.” A hook over by the sink, probably intended for a tea towel of some kind, sufficed. “You can take off your boots, too, if you like. Stove’s on, now, so it ought to heat up in here a bit. Sorry about the place,” Lupin added, glancing around with a look of shy embarrassment. “We haven’t done much cleaning lately.”
“Don’t be worried in the slightest,” Narcissa assured him calmly, determined not to be rude. She’d seen worse, she was sure, on charity excursions with her mother, although she couldn’t exactly think of any examples just now... and in any case, it was imperative that a proper lady show no kind of upset that would shame a good host. And despite their somewhat rocky background and the poor circumstances, Remus was being a perfectly polite host. That made it easier.
“Erm. Thanks. Erm. Tea, then? Just... sit wherever you like, the mattress is probably the best choice - that chair over there’s a bit suspect, if you ask me, and it’s the only one we’ve got. Anyhow, the mattress is more comfortable. I’m sorry, but the tea’s packets... I’m out of the loose, and Severus hasn’t bothered to buy more. He thinks it’s a bother, anyhow.”
She’d never had tea from packets before, and the idea somewhat appalled her. “I don’t mind,” she lied.
“Let’s see... I’ve got some biscuits around here someplace...” Lupin stretched up and reached up to his shoulder into a cupboard above the sink. “They’re, erm... hang on. Got ‘em!” The little tin seemed to have been buried as far back as possible, and Narcissa thought she saw him dusting it surrepticiously against the side of his sweater, but once opened they were revealed to be plain but nice, neat little butter biscuits of a cheap but not terrible brand. “The, erm... the milk’s tinned...”
“I take my tea black,” Narcissa assured him quickly, nervous to think of exactly what tinned milk meant.
“Ah. I’m sorry, I haven’t got any lemon...”
“Quite alright.”
“Got sugar, though. Or honey, if you prefer - Severus keeps it ‘round for the potions, but he won’t mind, for you.”
“Sugar, please. Just a little.”
Lupin smiled. “It’s not like you’ve got to watch your figure.” His face fell, then. “Not like... no, I just meant that it’s good. I mean... I’m sorry, Mrs. Malfoy.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She couldn’t help laughing, at that point - he was simply too desperate to please. “And please, call me Narcissa. I hear ‘Mrs. Malfoy’ all day from the other ladies, and I haven’t yet gotten over the temptation to look over my shoulder for Lucius’ mother.”
“Okay.” He grinned back at her, handing over a neat, if slightly chipped mug of blessedly hot tea. “Call me Remus, then.”
“I shall, thank you. You and Severus have gotten to be friends, then, since school?” she continued delicately. She could guess at the nature of that friendship - there was, as near as she could see, only the one bed in the flat, and no sign that either of them slept elsewhere - but direct reference would be more than rude at this point. “I wasn’t aware that you were ever close.”
“We weren’t, really. Not ‘til a few years ago, and even then... He’s a hard bloke to know, you know?”
“I do.” She sipped her tea solemnly. “And yet, it seems that he’s comfortable with you. I’m sure you’re aware how rare a thing that is for him.”
“I am, yeah.” Remus fiddled for a moment with his own mug, staring into its depths. “I’m... lucky.”
Narcissa smiled softly, squashing a little feeling of triumph at her theory being proved correct. “I expect you both are. Severus doesn’t make friends lightly.” If there was the slightest emphasis on ‘friends,’ Remus did a good job of pretending not to notice. “Only I wonder whether it doesn’t make things difficult for you, with my... with your friends,” she finished quickly, remembering just in time that Sirius Black was no longer to be thought of as any part of her family. “Mr. Potter was certainly never very subtle about his distaste for Severus.”
“Your lot wasn’t exactly subtle about not liking us, either,” Remus remarked. It was a defense without rancor or, Narcissa noticed, much conviction. The boy really was a bit of a wet blanket.
“I don’t suppose we were,” she allowed. “But I don’t recall my friends hanging any of yours upside-down by their ankles in front of the school at large, do you? In any case,” she continued calmly, to show there weren’t any great hard feelings, “clearly if Severus can get past that there’s no reason for me to hold a grudge on his behalf. I’m only curious... and you haven’t yet answered my question. I know... your friends. They won’t be making this easy for you.”
“You can say his name, you know.”
She took a slow sip of tea, and smiled the society smile she’d long since perfected for use when a genuine smile was the last thing on her mind. “Sirius,” she said calmly.
“He’s still your cousin, no matter what your aunt did to him.”
“I won’t discuss this with you, Lupin. I may disapprove - or not - of my family’s decision on that matter, but I will not debate the merits of that action with an outsider. You wouldn’t understand.”
“And I won’t discuss my relationship with my friends with you.”
Narcissa was impressed, this time, by the quiet steel in Lupin’s voice. She’d never credited him with that sort of resolve, and found, now that she saw it, that it demanded a bit of respect. “Very well, then. Perhaps we understand each other better than I would have thought. Remus,” she added, raising her teacup slightly in his direction.
Remus flushed and crossed his arms over his chest as though he wasn’t sure he liked being complimented by her, but nodded nonetheless. “Right, then. So you, er... you and Severus been friends long?” he asked, skirting back to their one moderately safe topic of conversation.
“We didn’t know each other as children, if that’s what you’re asking - not before we came to Hogwarts. My mother was friendly with Eileen Prince when she was a young woman, of course, but after the marriage they... didn’t travel in the same circles anymore.” She set her empty teacup precisely on the rickety little table, and waved off Remus’ reach for the kettle. “We never knew his father, and none of us met Severus himself until he came to school.”
“Is that why you made friends with him, then? Because of your mothers? I mean, not like that would be the only reason, but--” He coloured again, and fidgeted with his hands in a way Narcissa’d never noticed him doing at school. Maybe she really hadn’t paid enough attention to him, back then.
“Perhaps that was something to it,” she allowed. “My mother always spoke highly of Eileen, said how kind she was, what a brilliant student she’d been. And how certain decisions that she had made... were not entirely her own fault. A person cannot see the ends of all the choices he or she makes, particularly as regards alliances of the heart, can they?”
Remus swallowed. It might have been a trick of the poor light, but Narcissa could have sworn that he looked a bit ill. “His dad.”
Narcissa inclined her head gracefully. “These things happen... even in the best of families, at times. The Prince family was among the best in Wizarding Britain at one time, allied often with my family down the ages. To think that a single poor match... whether out of sentimentality or ill judgment... Well. Any woman knows the fear of that situation.”
“You and Malfoy, then... Was that an arranged marriage?”
“Of course not.” Narcissa made a sound that, from a lady of any less high breeding, would have certainly been called a snort. “I love my husband dearly, thank you. A marriage need not be brokered or empty of feeling to be prudent.”
“Sure doesn’t help, though, I’d imagine.” Remus eyed her in the darkness for a moment. “Sirius told me, once, that there’d been talk of engaging you two to be married. Your dads had talked about it when you were young.”
Narcissa winced. It was just like Sirius to spread the darker corners of the family’s history into the light of every streetcorner. “I do recall some mention of that at one point, yes. I don’t believe it was ever a serious consideration, however.” Whether or not that was primarily a function of Sirius’ rebellion and early expulsion from the family, she left unspoken. Let the Gryffindor boy take that as he would - she would give him no more details than he’d already been fed. “Families bandy this sort of thing all the time - it’s a source of constant amusement for the ladies of high society, particularly as a way of frightening the younger generation.”
“They threatened marriage on you?”
She shrugged. “Better than boggarts, for a child who learns her first charms in the nursery.”
“Right.” Remus shifted again, awkwardly. “I guess that would make things--”
The door wrenched open with an indignant shriek and a rush of cold air, admitting a sodden, black-clad figure. Only the long, sallow fingers that shoved the door and the hanks of streaming black hair hanging out of the hood assured Narcissa of the intruder’s identity.
“Good evening, Severus,” she said softly.
“Narcissa? Is everything...” He hesitated, glancing in Remus’ direction. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. I went out on a few errands this afternoon, and I’m afraid the rain caught me unawares. I thought to stop by here, to see you, but you were out... Remus let me in. He probably saved me from my death of cold,” she added with cheer that was only a little bit forced. “I have to commend your choice of acquaintance. We’ve had some tea and a lovely chat while we waited for you.”
“Indeed.” The tall boy pushed back his hood and looked from one to the other, eyes narrowing slightly as he searched them both. “Good, then, I suppose. Did you need something, then?”
“Only to see my old friend.” Narcissa stood and offered him the ratty afghan Remus had pressed on her when she came in, which he declined. He did not, she noticed, turn down the mug of hot tea that Lupin pressed into his hands, nor did her notoriously prickly former schoolmate protest or shy away when the other boy stepped well into his personal space in the process of maneuvering around the furniture. There was no other sign - their hands didn’t linger over-long as the cup changed hands, there wasn’t any excessive or untoward contact when Lupin pulled off the other boy’s dripping cloak. A year before, these details would have seemed wanting to Narcissa. Now that she had been married a year and knew the comfortable familiarity that settled, tempered smooth, into the hollow burned by a truly loving passion, she recognized in the lack exactly the clues she needed to cement her prior judgment.
“Your husband is well, I trust.” It wasn’t a question, and Severus’ eyes caught and held hers for the barest fraction of an instant, conveying assurance.
A tendril of fear loosed its grip on Narcissa’s stomach. “Quite well, thank you. He’s been given charge of a few rather particular domestic projects at the Ministry, I’m proud to say. We’re very pleased. And your research?”
“Continues as always, whenever I have a free moment from the blasted jobs that actually pay.” Severus waved his hand impatiently at their surroundings. “I’ve had to barter too much of my work just to get a bit of decent lab space now and then. I can’t work here.”
“Surely we can find a patron for you...”
“I won’t take your charity, Narcissa.”
She lowered her head and licked her lip, embarrassed both by the sharpness of the tone he adopted, and the shame she’d clearly caused him to bring it on. “You know that isn’t how I meant it.”
“I know. But I’m not one of your projects.”
“You never were,” she assured him softly. “If Lucius should happen to know of someone in the ministry who needs a good hand at potions, though...”
He hesitated, and Narcissa’s heart twinged to see him weighing his impressive personal dignity against what was clearly a deep and painful poverty in which both of them were mired. “Should he know of such a position, I will consider it.”
“I know he’ll be grateful for that.”
Silence gathered for a moment, and then Remus stood abruptly. “You two look like... erm... I’ll just get the dishes washed, shall I? It’s my turn.” He gathered up the tea things in a rush, and then turned his back to them and turned on a clattering, glugging old spigot that made only slightly less racket than some of the smaller waterfalls Narcissa had seen on holidays. “Don’t mind me,” he added in a loud voice, and then set about to scrubbing.
“Narcissa?” Severus repeated, pulling her to the side a bit so they could speak in relative privacy.
“It’s nothing, Severus, really - just what I told you when I came in. I was bored at the manor, is all, and lonely, and I thought I’d do a bit of shopping to take my mind off things.”
“Perhaps you’d be less lonely if your house weren’t the size of a fair-sized village.”
“It’s a family home, Severus. Malfoy Manor has been the seat of Lucius’ family since they came to this country.”
“And before that it no doubt belonged to some native lord who they turned out or murdered.”
“Severus.”
He snorted and shook his head. “It’s true, Narcissa, and you bloody well know it.”
“Well, we can’t all have been in England since the dark ages, can we?” She smiled, and to her relief her friend offered an approving sneer in return.
“In any event, woman, I don’t see why you would come here, of all places, even if you were lonely. This isn’t exactly an abode of comfort.”
“No, but... I wanted to see you. You always have something interesting to say, and I thought... I don’t know. I spend six days out of the week lunching and taking tea with the vapid wives of all sorts of bloated ministry officials, Severus - women twice my age who think nothing of treating me as though I still haven’t had my society debut, or spend all their time speculating on why I’m not yet carrying the next heir to the Malfoy line and giving me their own ancient family remedies for infertility. And I must always be grateful and nothing but polite, mustn’t I, because they could each one of them make or break my husband’s career with a single insipid word across their cold pillows. I hate it, Severus.”
“The agonizing life of the rich.” He rolled his eyes.
“You try it, then,” Narcissa growled in return. “Eight hours alone with women like that and I begin to feel myself growing just as stupid as they are. Bella’s too busy for me, lately, and the other girls from our class... oh, I don’t know. Most of them simply wouldn’t understand, and the rest talk of nothing but exactly what I want to forget.”
He raised a single eyebrow in dour and silent questioning.
“It’s not as though I...” She hesitated and listened for a moment to the clattering of Lupin’s work in the sink. “I don’t begrudge Lucius his work,” she began again, regarding Severus with significant look. “His career is of course as important to me as it is to him, and I approve of whatever sacrifices must be made to that end. I only... chafe at it, sometimes, Severus. I know that you know what I mean.”
“I do,” he admitted after a long moment. “I’m certain it’s only a matter of time, though, until he reaps the rewards of his hard work.”
“Until you all do.”
“All of us,” Severus agreed slowly. “Yourself included, Narcissa. Your hard work...”
“Means little in the end,” she dismissed lightly, “but I do my best. The loyal helpmeet, the good society wife... that’s me.” She laughed, soft and self-deprecating. “All I have to do now is bear him a son to continue his line and I’ll be canonized by all the family traditionalists.”
“I expect that’s true. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
She smiled at him, an ironic smile twisting her lips that she doubted any of her society friends would ever have recognized. “Of course it is. And what parts of it aren’t, I’ll bend to what they ought to be.”
“Ah, the boundless confidence of the family Black.”
“You love us, you know you do.” She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. She kept her face well away from his hair, but it was a fond gesture nonetheless. “Take care, Severus. Of yourself, and of him.” She glanced toward Lupin, still at least pretending blissful ignorance of their conversation, and sighed. “I won’t pretend that I altogether approve, but if it makes you happy I can’t say that it’s all bad. For what it’s worth, I wish you luck.”
Severus searched her eyes, and for a split second she could have sworn that she felt something, a twitch of sorts at the front of her mind. Then it was gone, and his gaze slipped aside from her. “You won’t mention this...”
“I won’t.”
“Not even--”
“I swear it, Severus. Not a word, not even to Lucius. On my honor as a Black.”
He snorted dismissively, and started to turn away. “You’re married, cunning wench. You’re a Malfoy, now, not a Black.”
“That’s not true and you know it, Severus.” She caught his sleeve and forced him ‘round to look her in the eyes again. “I may have taken Lucius’ name, but I will always be a Black. That will never change. And whatever happens...”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Narcissa. I know you too well. The pretty lies you spin for everyone else won’t work with me, and I don’t want to hear them.”
Narcissa released her hold on his arm, and her eyes followed her hand’s descent.
“No lies between us,” Severus told her, his voice oddly soft and reassuring. He was right, he did know her too well. “We’re beyond that, you and I. We’re Slytherins. I accept your promise, and I believe it. Don’t push it any further.”
And he was right about that, too, of course. It wasn’t lack of kindness or warm feeling that made her sure that oaths of eternal frienship made now would someday be remembered only dimly, put aside with relative ease if need ever pressed her. It was simply her nature. And the beauty of Severus - the one thing that she loved most dearly about him - was that he understood that, and accepted it with cool equanimity. His heart and mind were all science and balance, carefully-minded ledgers and cold, hard truth. Sentimentality didn’t enter into the equation.
“Goodbye, then, Severus. I’ll hope to speak to you again soon under better circumstances.” She caught his hand for a moment and squeezed it, thin and cold, between her own, and then pulled on her cloak and opened the door into the gathering evening. “Goodbye, Remus,” she called over her shoulder. “And thank you. For having me in, and for our talk.”
“You bet. You should come back sometime, if you have the chance.”
“I’ll try,” she offered, smiling a little. “Severus?”
“Yes, Narcissa?”
“I know things will be different, soon. I can feel it. I just know that things will change.”
He nodded slowly. “I think you may be right about that,” he agreed slowly, and watched her slip out the door, a thin shadow disappearing into the storm.
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Date: 2007-07-17 08:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-17 08:30 pm (UTC)Barrowman on the subject of Marsters' stint on Torchwood:
“There’s a scene between he and Jack when they first meet... all I’ll say is, this scene is so hot, so horny, so violent, that all the fans who watch it are going to [censored!]”
I think he's figured out their fan-base.