Multum
in amore fides, multum constantia prodest.*
PROPERTIUS
– Elegiae
Of course
he had accepted! As if there had been any other possible answer! He was the
happiest man in all England, with the mere prospect of seeing her again! He would show her how much he cared, he would
make her fall in love with him, and he would not let her down!
For a
start, he wrote to her. Every night, he wrote her a letter and attached the
most beautiful flowers from his father’s greenhouse, taking great care that the
owl would arrive at breakfast. He didn’t expect an answer and he received none
for the first three weeks, but that didn’t matter. At least she didn’t return
them unopened! The greater was his delight when on an otherwise bleak and
dreary morning at the end of January, a majestic eagle owl landed on the window
sill of his bedroom, delivering her first ever answer.
‘Dear Lucius,’ she wrote, ‘thank
you very much for your letters. They’ve been exceedingly entertaining, and are
the object of many rumours among other students, so thank you as well for your
discretion not writing your name on the outside. Dona clandestina sunt semper
suspiciosa!* The lilies last Thursday were particularly beautiful,
even Professor Sprout, who witnessed their delivery, has remarked on them.
There isn’t much to
tell you, everything is just like usual. The team hasn’t got over the loss of
the best players yet and has lost out to Ravenclaw on Saturday – Severus claims
it was the most humiliating spectacle he’s ever seen. Perhaps it will interest
you that you’re even more spoken of than when you were here still, but I don’t
mean to tickle your vanity too much. Suffice to say that you’re the most
popular student in Slytherin without being a Slytherin student anymore.
There has been an
announcement that the next outing to Hogsmeade will take place on February 14th
– I can only imagine your grin while reading this. Given the twenty-two letters
you’ve written so far, I presume that you are still determined to make an
appearance. You might want to remember that I am well prepared for your
possible visit, so if you don’t think you could pass the test, it would be best
if you didn’t come at all. I don’t approve of disappointments.
However that may be, I
hope you are fine and that your apparent self-constraint causes no lasting
damages. See you soon, or not, N. ’
He read
her note four times in a row, catching himself grinning like a demented
house-elf. He wasn’t afraid of that ‘test’, all the Veritaserum could prove was
that he hadn’t spoken to any female except for Narcissa’s own sister, he hadn’t
even looked at one. She would see how serious he was, and that she could trust
him. He skipped his first lecture that morning and Apparated to Malfoy Manor
instead to purchase more of those lilies she had liked so much. Although he had
tried to avoid it, he met his father, who reproached him for not being in
College first, and cackled about the lilies in his arms next.
“Flowers,
sonny? Isn’t that the oldest trick in the book?”
“Someone
whom I appreciate very much has said she liked them.”
“Is she
dead? Did your sense of humour kill her?”
Lucius
rolled his eyes and sneered. “Your
sense of humour is killing me,
Father.”
“White
lilies are for funerals; you did know that, didn’t you?”
Oh Merlin – no, he had not known that! He hadn’t been to a single funeral in all his life,
how was he supposed to know what sort of flowers were used there?! He had sent
Narcissa funeral flowers?! What must she be thinking?! Abraxas was in stitches,
tears of merriment running down his cheeks. Lucius took a deep breath and
gnarled, “I better not throw them away, we may still need them. You look as if
you’re having a stroke. Where did you hide your testament, incidentally?”
“Who is
that person that you appreciate so much that you already prepare her burial?”
“Oh, shut up!”
In his
next letter, he apologised a sound dozen times, sending five owls on total with
a hundred red roses instead. Her reply claimed that she hadn’t minded the
slightest bit, and that white lilies were her favourite flowers anyhow. ‘Perhaps one day you will know me well enough to see
that I don’t bother for that kind of convention,’ she wrote. ‘The latest rumours about the mysterious sender by now
presume that my suitor was either an Egyptian Sheikh, or a florist. The betting
quotas are three to one.’
He wrote
back that she should wager some money on the sheikh option, and two days later,
he sent her an Egyptian artefact. It was a little statue of Isis made of lapis
lazuli and gold, it had cost a fortune, but who cared? He hadn’t gone to
College at all, but employed his time much more usefully by seeing fourteen
different antiques sellers, in London, Thessalonica, Berlin, Paris and Cairo,
until finding the one perfect item – he had chosen the statue with utmost care
– Isis was considered to be the Egyptian goddess of love and magic, and when
seeing a representation with sapphire eyes, reminding him so much of Narcissa’s
own, he had known at once that this was it. She was well-read, she’d understand
the symbolism. She greatly appreciated art, she’d like the statuette for
itself. And she’d get the humour he had intended.
He wasn’t
mistaken. When Narcissa received the precious gift on the following morning and
unwrapped it, she didn’t bother to suppress a genuine smile. This was marvellous! She did acknowledge the
brilliance of the idea as such, in all its aspects. Her doubts about his
seriousness weren’t entirely dispelled, but the thoughtfulness shown by
presents like this one, the steadiness proven by his daily letters and the
amount of feeling he expressed in those, were bound to kindle the affection she
anyway felt for him. She was anxious that she would be refuted by the
Veritaserum, and for a few times, when lying in her bed at night, she mused
whether she shouldn’t replace the potion by water, whether she truly wanted to
know.
But this
was nonsense. If he didn’t change his ways, there’d be no chance for them in
the first place, and she wouldn’t want to humiliate herself by trusting him if
he wasn’t trustworthy. Did she have clear ideas about some possible future? No.
In her head, this was all very vague; she longed to kiss him again, for she had
never felt anything like this before. She wanted to spend time with him,
because he made her feel good and easy. She wanted to know for certain that she
was the only one for him, but to what consequence she could not say.
When
coming home from that wretched party, she had been plain miserable. He had let
her down – had forgotten her – had kissed her only to achieve his final victory
over her… She had griped how silly she had been to believe that he could truly
care for her! That boy cared for nothing and no one but himself! And she had
given him the satisfaction to defeat her! Had allowed him to touch her, kiss
her, bewitch her – because bewitched
she had been. How sweet his kisses had been! How thrilling, how elating! Oh, if
she had never kissed him! If only she had no idea how it would feel! That
scoundrel, that vain, heartless villain!
But how
vain had she been, eh?! Pretty she
might be, but had she truly flattered herself to believe that he’d wait for
her, in celibate pining?! ‘Love is not love which alters when it alteration
finds, or bends with the remover to remove,’* she had stubbornly thought. In
fairness though… In all fairness, she’d had to acknowledge in his favour that
she hadn’t given him a single reason not
to go out with whomever he wanted. Why should he have been faithful to someone
telling him how much she loathed him?! And that had been her last words when
parting that morning in summer, she recollected them in perfect clarity.
In short
– when he had turned up in her father’s house that following evening, her anger
had already softened, and seeing him profess how much he wanted her, seeing his
determination to reconcile with her, to make her believe in him… Well, that had
done the job, hadn’t it? She’d give them both
a chance. Just one. And if he blew it – likely enough! – well, in that case
they’d both know where they were
standing.
Valentine’s
Day came; both Lucius and Narcissa had hardly slept at all in the previous
night. While Dumbledore did consider the disposition of the teenagers he
guarded and therefore cancelled the afternoon classes, the Dean of Artemis
College made no such allowances, and Lucius once again had to skive off school.
Narcissa had announced that she would have a cup of coffee in the Three
Broomsticks and wanted to take a walk afterwards – if he wouldn’t show up,
she’d know what to make of it – so he ensured to be on the safe side and walked
into the pub one and a half hours early.
“Long
time not seen you around, Mr Malfoy,” Madam Rosmerta, the landlady, said
cheerfully, and curiously glimpsed at the bouquet of white lilies in his arm.
“Who has died?”
“Nobody,
Madam. Those are the favourite flowers of someone I hope to meet here.”
“Really?
Now that’s – extraordinary…”
“And so
is the young lady. Could you bring me an espresso and a small whiskey?”
“For the
nerves?” He nodded, making her chuckle. “I’ve seen you here very often with
ample of pretty companions when you were a Hogwarts student still, but I cannot
recall that you’ve ever looked nervous!”
“Because
I never was. Now please, Madam, the order. I seriously need a drink.”
He
checked his watch every two minutes, drumming his fingers on the table, having
three more espressos and another whiskey, but forbidding himself to drink
anything else. The whiskey affected him more than it would have under different
circumstances, the caffeine made him shaky, and twenty minutes prior to their
date, he went to the bathrooms to conjure a toothbrush and perform a soothing
charm on himself.
Finally
there she was, more brilliantly shining than ever, clad in a black hooded cloak
and pushing back the hood. Their gazes had made contact in the second she had
stepped in; she smiled for a second, but visibly forced herself to merely smirk
when coming towards him. He jumped up to help her out of her cloak and push her
chair, babbling all sorts of heartfelt commonplaces, how pleased he was to see
her, how much he had been looking forward to this… Neither of them noticed the
curious looks of the other guests, or the landlady in this instance, their
gazes locked, they sat down, absent-mindedly made their orders and secretly
willed themselves not to appear over-anxious.
When
Madam Rosmerta brought a coffee for Narcissa and another glass of water for
Lucius, he hardly waited for her to disappear before muttering, “Here and now?”
She
pursed her admirable lips. “I don’t know what you mean, Lucius. Here and now...?”
“Your
test. I want to get through with it as soon as I can, and pass on to a
hopefully more tender way to spend the day.”
“Tender?”
She chuckled quietly. “Thank you for announcing your plans! It’s always good to
know the stakes. Yet I guess I should tell you that I have no intention to
interview you here of all places.
Despite the recent fiasco, you ought to know my aversion to make a scene in
public, and also my fondness for coffee, so I must ask you for some more
patience.”
He
mustered all his patience, even when
Narcissa playfully suggested that she would like another cup, he smiled and
turned around to wave to Madam Rosmerta, but she put her hand on his arm. “Just
kidding. Let’s go.”
The
weather had been unsteady all day, and when they left the Three Broomstick, it
had started to drizzle again. Lucius conjured an umbrella, and without
reluctance, Narcissa linked arms with him. They strolled down the main alley,
out of the village and up a small hill, which would have born a beautiful view
on a nicer day than this. They stopped under some conifers that made a natural
shelter, and even though he put away the umbrella, she did not let go of his
arm, crammed in her pocket and produced a tiny vial. “Ready?”
“Absolutely.”
“You’re taking
quite a risk there, for I’ve brewed it myself. No help from Cle this time.”
“You’re a
genius, I’m not taking any risk but the ideal chance to prove you my
sincerity.”
“Sincerity!
That’s a word. And I was beginning to relish your playfulness more and more.”
“All in
due time, my dearest.”
She
uncorked the vial, gave him a meaningful look, he bent down and opened his
mouth, she trickled out the potion that dripped on his tongue. She gently
stroke over his cheek when the vial was empty. His eyes became blurry, all
tension vanished from his body, and now it was she who steadied him. When she
addressed him, her tone was calmer than she was feeling – the next few minutes
would decide everything, and her
pulse was racing.
“What is
your name?”
“Lucius
Apollonius Maximus Siegmund Iago Azrael Alexander Malfoy.”
“What was
the most embarrassing moment in your life?”
“Witnessing
my mother getting off with some Muggle.”
“Yes.
With You.”
She
beamed with that concession. “Anybody else?” she asked, fearing the answer and holding
her breath.
“Nobody
else. Ever.”
Suffused
with instant relief, she exhaled; her pulse was getting faster and faster.
“Have you been involved with a girl since coming to my father’s house last
month?”
“No.”
“Have you
kissed a girl?”
“No.”
“Have you
thought about kissing or getting involved with some other girl?”
“No.”
She felt
dizzy with excitement, but also a little adventurous. “Have you seen a girl
that would interest you?”
“Yes.”
“Yes?!”
Her voice had lost all its strained calmness, she almost screeched. “Who?
Where? What happened?!”
“You – in
the Three Broomsticks – I was so excited to see you again, I was instantly
arou-”
“Oh!
Merlin – uhm…” Her cheeks turned scarlet and she looked away. “Well, I suppose
I don’t deserve better for asking… So – er – apart from possible – er – physical excitement – how would you
describe your feelings for me?”
“You’re
the utmost wonderful person I’ve ever met. I can hardly think of anything else
but you. I’ve never felt just remotely the same for anyone. I love you, I love
you more than anything or anyone else in the world.”
She
stared at him, unable to speak for a minute – as a matter of fact, she felt on
the verge of fainting. That word – love
– oh, how careful she had always been to steer clear of it! Hearing him say
that he loved her scared her as much as it made her feel elated. Love was a
dangerous thing. For years, she had mocked it as sheer sentimentality, and in
the last year, she had also formed the idea that love had the power to rip otherwise tightly-knit families apart, love had driven Andy away from home and
had made her abandon her ill mother, love
for her daughter had made Amandine Black’s heart stop beating… And what else
but love had made her come here today, had made her touchy
and oversensitive in the last months, years possibly?
She
swallowed hard and went on quietly, “And that witch on Rabastan Lestrange’s
party – did you lie to me about her?”
“I don’t
think I have ever deliberately lied to you about anything or anybody. I’d never
lie to you. I love you, you’re my everything.”
As blank
as his expression was due to the potion, as earnest was his voice, and Narcissa
thought she’d be getting a heart attack of her own. A legion of bees was
swarming in her stomach, she wanted to throw her arms around him at once. He was serious! He did love her! He hadn’t looked at anyone else! Her voice was hoarse when continuing, “And what do you
want from me? What do you expect from me?”
“I want
to be with you. If I can be with you – if I can make you like me – I want
nothing else.”
“Nothing?”
She couldn’t avoid a tinge of disappointment in her tone. “Really nothing?”
“I want
to be with you – talk to you – listen to you… I want to be with you in every
moment… I want to embrace you and hold you tight and not let you go again, I
want to kiss you… I want to run my fingers through your hair… I want to let my
hands glide over your skin – your body – I –”
She
feared that he’d refer to more undue excitements and hurried to say, “I reckon
that’s enough for now.”
She
smiled broadly until remembering that he wasn’t able to perceive anything in
this state, so she crammed for a second vial – with a concoction she had
obtained from little Severus, who swore
it’d counteract Veritaserum – and she could only hope her little protégé had
been right. She urged Lucius to drink it, and thirty seconds later, he had
recovered – ‘bless you, Savvy’, she thought – and was almost his old self
again. He looked a little insecure and was still swaying.
“And…?”
“Do you
even have to ask...?” she breathed.
“I know
what’s the only thing I could possibly have said,” he whispered, mesmerised by
her solemn expression. “But I don’t know what it means to you.”
Instead
of an answer, she lifted one hand to his face, stroked a strand of hair away
and reached out for his hand with the other. She lifted it to her face and
caressed it, his long white fingers, his knuckles, then gently pulled him down
for a kiss.
Not that
he had doubted it, but her reaction clearly showed that he had passed her test
in a panache. The kiss was tender at first, he felt that she was trembling, so
he briefly loosened his embrace to wrap his cloak around the both of them.
He
couldn’t grasp a single notion but this – Narcissa was kissing him, kissing him
so tenderly, so ardently, so – so – so stupendously!
So she wanted to be with him too, right? Could it be true? Could she finally, finally be his? He was thoroughly overwhelmed by the mere idea, and that she
grew more and more passionate increased the thrill yet.
He let
his lips glide over her temple, nibbled on her earlobe, and when she felt his
tongue glide down her neck, she heard herself groaning with delight. She
inclined her head to give him more space and he claimed it; she could no longer
suppress her violent trembling that had nothing to do with the cold wind,
cupping the back of his head with one hand and gently pushing him where she
liked him best.
He
caressed her and sighed, “Oh Narcissa… I love you. I love you –”
“I think
I love you too,” she whispered, surprised with herself, but finding that she
had never meant anything more seriously, and putting him on a much harder test
than the one with the Veritaserum. If she had asked him after his desires now, she would have gotten an answer
that would have shocked her utterly. But on this point, Lucius had firmly made
up his mind in the past weeks. As much as he craved her, he would not sleep with her, unless…
* Multum… Much is gained in
love by fidelity, much by patience.
* Dona… Clandestine gifts
are always suspicious!
* From: William Shakespeare, ‘Sonnet CXVI’
*****
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