Stains

[northangel27]

Severus and Narcissa because I haven't written them in awhile . All the Malfoys are here though, even a second year Draco.

Stains

 

“That boy!  That boy is the reason I am doing this!”  Narcissa Malfoy looks up at him, cheeks flushed pink, her usually perfectly dressed hair falling out of the twist at the back of her head, to fall down in light, downy waves across her eyes.  It’s ridiculous of course.  The Malfoys have dozens of house elves.  Potter isn’t the reason she is doing this.

 

She scrubs and scrubs at the dark stains on the pale carpet.  He’s never seen her down on her hands and knees doing any sort of manual labor before and it threw him a little when he first walked in to a rather appealing view of her silk clad bum bouncing up and down with the intensity of her effort, the sinuous curve of her neck exposed above the collar of her cashmere jumper, a fine strand of ivory pearls adorning it like a trail of dew.

 

“Potter?”

 

“Of course Potter!” She spits, her cheeks turning from pink to red.  “Insufferable mudblood brat!  What in the name of Merlin does Albus Dumbledore think he is about these days, allowing children like…like ‘that’ to run about doing as they please, and…”

 

“He’s always played favorites, Cissa.  You know that.”  She scowls and looks away quickly.  She’s wearing more makeup than she usually does.

 

“Why don’t you just…”  He pulls out his wand and points it at the carpet.

 

“No!”

 

He blinks at the intensity of her protestations.  “Why ever not?”

 

“There are protective charms.  You…you know how mother was.  It was a family heirloom, and they were charms of her own devising.  I…I don’t want to run the risk of…of…”  Something in her cool façade breaks.  She looks away quickly, but not before he sees a flash of tears in her eyes.

 

“This isn’t about Potter.”

 

She is silent.

 

“You need to let him know that you won’t stand for it Cissa, under no uncertain terms.  You are still young.  You have charms to spare.  He needs to know what he stands to lose if he keeps this up.”

 

“I’m not, and I…I can’t…”  It’s barely a whisper.

 

He feels a sudden wave of anger.  “Then you dig your own grave!” he snaps.  He was rather harsher than he intended.  He sighs and runs a hand through his hair.  “I’ll talk to him.”

 

“No!”  She spins around and falls back to sit on her heels.  She is crying but the makeup hasn’t budged.  “Don’t.  It will only make it worse.”

 

“Someone needs to say something.  Think of Draco.”

 

She blinks as though suddenly blinded by a truth she has been trying desperately to deny.  She shakes her head.  “He…I don’t think he knows.”

 

“Narcissa.  He knows.”

 

He sees the grief and desperation in her sky blue eyes.  “No, I…I’m always so careful.  I’m sure he doesn’t…”

 

“Children always know.” 

 

“Has he…Has he spoken to you about it?”  She wipes away her tears.  Still the makeup stays put.

 

“He doesn’t have to.”

 

“I…I don’t…”

 

“You know he worships Lucius.  It won’t be long before he’ll be mimicking his attitude toward you, and then you will be completely bereft.  Nip it in the bud now Narcissa – for Merlin’s sake!”  He is whispering now, and he is not sure why.  They are alone in the house except for the house elves.  Draco is out riding and Lucius is still at the Ministry.

 

“But I…I don’t know how, and I…”

 

“You’re a Slytherin, Cissa, and you’re a Black…You’ll think of something.”

 

Draco comes in then, his face just as flush as hers.  He seems surprised, but not disappointed at his presence.  He nods politely as he has been taught.  “Professor.”

 

“Malfoy.”

 

His brow furrows at the sight of his mother on her hands and knees like a common house elf.  “Mother, what…?”

 

He sees the moment he catches sight of the blood.  But Narcissa doesn’t disappoint.  She sits up a little straighter on her heels, and motions for him to come to her.  “Oh Draco, you know what that horrible Potter boy did with our house elf last week, and now I’ve had an accident, and I’ve no one to…”  She nods toward her own blood staining the carpet.  “Do help me won’t you.  It was your grandmother’s carpet and she did love it so.  It’s been in the family for generations, and I…”

 

“Yes mother.”  He cuts her off, and takes the brush gently from her hand, starting in at once.  She conjures another and joins him.

 

“Severus, do order some tea won’t you.  Lucius should be home at any minute, and he is always so insistent that his tea be ready.”  He does as she asks, moving across the room to pull the cord by the door and summon the parlor elf. 

 

Her timing is, of course, impeccable.  When Lucius arrives home he finds she and his son, side by side in the parlor scrubbing her blood from the carpet.  He sees the moment the rage crashes over Lucius in an uncontrollable surge.  “What in Merlin’s name!”

 

He steps out from the shadows behind the door, and Lucius starts a little to see him there.  “Unidentified protective charms,” he states by way of explanation.  “Seeing as it is a Black family heirloom she felt it best to avoid traditional methods.”

 

Lucius grows pale under the darkness of his gaze.  He can feel Draco’s eyes on them both.  There are so many things Severus wants to say.  Mostly though, he wants to say, friend or no, if he ever catches wind of him laying even a hint of a harsh hand on Narcissa again, he will dismember him slowly, piece by piece, and offer him up as scraps for Hagrid’s ever expanding menagerie.  But he doesn’t.  He doesn’t have to.

 

“Narcissa…”  She looks up at the sound of her husband’s voice, and wipes the back of her hand across her forehead, in mock exhaustion.  “Narcissa, get up.  I will send the carpet out to be cleaned.  Today.”

 

“Yes, well that is rather impractical, isn’t it?  Better to know how to clean it ourselves.  It is likely to get soiled again.”  Calm – cool – collected.

 

He can feel Lucius inwardly cringe even from several feet away.  “You needn’t worry about that.  Please…Get up.”

 

An uncomfortable silence descends over the room.  She is making him feel it, the full weight of it.  After what seems like a lifetime, she gets to her feet, as a house elf shuffles into the room with the tea tray.  Brushing imaginary wrinkles from the front of her skirt she holds out a hand to her son.  “Come Draco, the Greengrasses have that party this evening.  You had best bathe and start to get ready.  I don’t want you attending looking like a common field hand.”

 

She stands tall, and he can see the Black pride flashing in her eyes.  She brushes past Lucius as though he is invisible, and Severus remembers again why it is he has never really worried about Narcissa.