WHO: Lucius & Narcissa Malfoy WHAT: Fretting over kidnapped children. WHEN: December 23 WHERE: Malfoy Manor
Lucius had done his best not to let it show how annoyed he was about what had just happened. His face carried the same impassive expression as they brought the Lovegood girl in, right past him and Narcissa, and it remained on his face as they decided, without informing either of them, that she was going to stay in the cellar with Ollivander.
It was only once he and Narcissa were alone in the study that he dropped the expression and annoyance trickled onto his face. He was tense as he paced, aware of the faint voices that lingered outside. A quick Muffliato later, he finally stopped walking and turned to Narcissa. "I didn't know about this," he said.
Narcissa was furious and something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but her face, too, remained blank and impassive as this had transpired. While Lucius paced, she remained at the door, the wood of it solid and bracing against her back as her features grew more and more troubled. When he spoke, it was as if her tightly wound strings had been cut and she began to wring her hands, her shoulders slumping against the door.
It was guilt. That was the something else. She felt guilty.
“She’s a child,” she hissed, low despite the silencing charm on the room.
"Her father's been printing nonsense," Lucius said immediately, although it sounded less believable as a reason than it could've been. If they had wanted to stop him from publishing his ridiculous paper, it made more sense to take the old man instead of the daughter, but he didn't voice this thought. "He'll understand soon and we — she'll be returned."
All Narcissa could think about was Draco — Draco being forced to take the Dark Mark before he (and she) was ready for it, Draco being given an impossible mission, Draco’s resolute face as he shouldered things that were far too heavy for a boy his age. Narcissa thought she’d seen the same look on the Lovegood girl’s face as they led her through the house.
“Like they’ve returned Ollivander?” she asked, jerking her hands apart to ball them into fists at her side.
Lucius paused, torn between Narcissa's point and what he'd always seen as the necessity of his capture. "Ollivander hasn't offered the right information yet." What it was, exactly, that Ollivander was supposed to know was less clear, but Lucius had learned over the years that it wasn't his duty to question the Dark Lord.
"It isn't as if I want either of them here either," he pointed out.
Their repurposed cellar rankled on a good day. But now, with a child taking up residence there, it burrowed under her skin and Narcissa wanted Lucius to be just as angry as she was. “They’re defiling our home, Lucius,” she said. “We’re keeping prisoners now.”
The word, thrown in his face, was disconcerting. On most days, he didn't have to try to forget that Ollivander was locked away, just below them. It helped that he had been there for so long, months now, and he had grown accustomed to it. And, of course, the Dark Lord required him to be there. While they had been displeased about it, he couldn't remember them discussing it like this. Prisoners, plural. It itched at him.
Lucius glanced at the door, as if he knew someone could hear them. It was a foolish feeling because the room was as secure as it could be, but he was hesitant as he spoke. "We won't have to see them," he tried, but it rang hollow.
“We’ll know they’re there, though,” she pointed out. “I will. And Draco —” The Lovegood girl felt like it might’ve been a final straw if the Malfoys lived in a different world, one where they weren’t helpless and so very far in over their heads. It was an understatement, but. “I don’t like it, Lucius. I know you don’t either.”
“I don’t like it,” he had to concede. “I’m not happy that our house is being used as a — like this. But it’ll be manageable.” Lucius wasn’t even sure how much he believed that. It felt harder to forget that there were two people imprisoned in their cellar than it was when there was only the one.
“It doesn’t feel manageable,” Narcissa admitted quietly. Nothing did, though. After a moment, satisfied for the time being by his words, she unballed her fists and pushed away from the door, wrapping her arms around his middle and hooking her chin over his shoulder. “I miss when it was only us.” She wanted to ask when he thought the Dark Lord would leave, but she knew better. Lucius wouldn’t, couldn’t say.
His arms went around Narcissa and he held her for a moment without a word. There was still the whisper of voices outside, but in the study, it was quiet. Manageable. “I do too,” Lucius said, pressing a kiss against the side of her head. And despite the unasked question, he knew it was what Narcissa wondered. “Once Potter is found, it’ll be just us again.”
She leaned back just far enough to look up at him and gave him a weak smile. “We’ll buy a new bed,” she said. But in the back of her mind, she was coming to the realization that, despite all the trouble he’d caused her family, Potter was just a child, too. She couldn’t help but sigh, leaning back in to wrap her arms tightly around Lucius again. “Why did they have to bring that girl here?”
Lucius wanted to say that it was because the Dark Lord trusted them — he certainly didn't want to say it was because he wanted to punish them — but he knew that Narcissa had no desire to hear any flattery along these lines. What he decided to say was more realistic, although he wasn't sure who would find it realistic. "It's easier for the Dark Lord to keep an eye on her."
Narcissa let her silence speak to how realistic she thought it and held him for a very long moment. She pulled away eventually, smoothing her hands over the front of her blouse where it had wrinkled while she guarded her features. “We’ll have to leave shortly. Draco will be at the platform soon.”
He nodded while going through a similar process of making sure it wasn’t apparent that they had had this conversation — that they were anything but pleased with this development. His robes were straightened, his expression neutral.
Before he dropped the silencing charm, he looked at Narcissa again. “I’m sorry for this,” he said. He left out the specifics. There were too many things that could’ve applied.
Her expression flickered and she brushed her fingers over his shoulder. “Me too.”