With Love, || N.B.

𝑻𝒘𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒚-𝑺𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏

December 23rd, 1993

Silence drifted through the empty corridors of Malfoy Manor. Pops sounded here and there as various house elves ran around collecting dirty laundry, washing the floor-to-ceiling windows, and tidying up the rooms. An eerie atmosphere settled on the place, having little to no decorations for the holiday season, and it seemed that the only room occupied by any of its residents was the library.

Narcissa stared off into space, her gaze focused on the shag rug that lay flat before the blazing fireplace. She held a china teacup in her lap, mindlessly stirring the brown chamomile that had just a bit too much honey in it.

Lucius Malfoy glanced at her and continued scanning the copy of the Daily Prophet that he held in front of his pale face. "Narcissa if you continue stirring that bloody tea you'll create a water spout." There was a visible bite in his words.

"There's no need for that language, Lucius," she responded calmly, slowly coming out of her daze.

He scoffed in response, turning a page of the paper sharply. "'No need for that language'. It's my house, Narcissa!" he snapped.

Narcissa's temper was slowly rising as she shot him a look. "Your house? With how frequently you're actually here and not paying some other woman for sex?"

"That's enough!" Lucius roared, slamming his paper down into his lap. "I will not be treated-!"

"Please!" She raised her voice finally, only in an attempt to quiet Lucius. "Please..." Her voice was now soft. "Lucius, not when Draco is home. We both know he can hear every argument we have. Just for these couple of weeks can we at least appear to be a happy family?"

Lucius sighed, bringing his paper back to his nose. "Perhaps we would be able to be a happy family if you had been able to produce more than one heir to the Malfoy fortune."

Narcissa slammed her cup of tea back onto the saucer that rested on the table beside her. Chamomile splashing out of its cup and onto the rug below, Narcissa shot up from her chair. "It always comes back to this!" she shouted. Lucius jumped to his feet, dropping the paper as Narcissa glared up at him. "You cannot hold me responsible for that, Lucius! We both know neither of us truly wanted this marriage! The only good thing that came out of it was-!"

"Perhaps," Lucius snapped, interrupting her, "if you're so unhappy in our marriage, Narcissa, you should run back to that mudblood you fell so hard for two decades ago!"

Narcissa was taken aback, her nostrils flared and a swell of emotion in her throat. Her voice grew deadly, thick with rage. "Don't," she muttered, tears coming to her eyes. "Don't you dare..." She took a deep breath and her hand came up, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I can't..." Her voice caught in her throat. "I can't do this tonight, Lucius. If you'd like to continue this argument tomorrow, be my guest. However," her hand came down to rest at her side and she stared up into Lucius's cold eyes, "I'm going to bed." She glanced at the clock, five minutes from striking ten. "It's getting late."

Narcissa drifted silently out of the room, shutting the door quietly and making her way slowly up the grand staircase. She paused outside of Draco's room, relieved the lights were off. Despite believing he was asleep, she softly knocked on the door, entering when there was no response. She poked her head in, his eyes closed and his chest rising and falling slowly. Tears came to her eyes and she smiled, fingers coming to press over her lips. Narcissa quietly moved to his bed, dropping to his level. She smiled a bittersweet smile, her hand coming to rest in his hair. She pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Goodnight, my love. Sleep well."

Shutting the door to her son's room, Narcissa continued down the dark corridor. She entered her bedroom, on the complete opposite side of the manor where the room she once shared with Lucius was. Sighing, she sat on the bed, gray silk under her finger tips. She laid back, her hands resting on her torso and her legs and feet dangling off the edge. She rested her eyes, thinking.

She could do it. She could run...no she couldn't. The first obstacle she thought of was Draco. She cursed herself internally for even thinking of him as an obstacle. The light of my life, an obstacle? Narcissa you're a fool for even thinking that. And you call yourself a mother? Lucius was right, I'll never be enough. She thought of the society she lived in. The people who'd ridicule her for attempting to divorce a man of Lucius's standing. He's in one of the highest positions in the Ministry, Narcissa, they'd say. He gives you a comfortable life, they'd say. Please...they have no idea it was me who gave him that position. Me, who gave him the dowry-my own father's money-to keep the Malfoy name from falling...And not to mention what Lucius would even do...to Draco...to me...my own child would be ruined and at 13 years old no less. I could never put him through that.

Her hands pressed to her forehead as she took a deep breath. Lucius's words pounded in her head. "...if you're so unhappy in our marriage, Narcissa, you should run back to that mudblood you fell so hard for two decades ago..." She seethed at the word he used. But his words pounded, and pounded, her head aching. Nora. It would be alright.

A knocking at the window sounded, pulling her from her dreaded thoughts. An owl perched on the ledge, a note tied to its leg. She smiled as she walked to the window, opening it and letting the cold bird inside. "It's lovely to see you again, Dixie..." She spoke softly as she untied the twine holding the note to Dixie's leg.

Unraveling it, her dark eyes scanned the paper.

Cissa-

Lord, I hope this found you at the right time. I understand it was incredibly risky sending you this while you were at home, and I'd hate to be the cause of your suffering. But I needed an answer to a question. I was wondering if you'd be alone between Christmas and New Years. I know your husband is throwing that "charity" ball on New Years Eve so let me know what day works for you (even if it's next year). I'll see you soon.

With Love,

E. M.

P.s. I haven't opened your gift yet, because I'm almost positive you've boobytrapped it so something would happen if I opened it early.

Narcissa smiled at the slanted writing. Suddenly her night was just a bit brighter with Nora's note. She crossed the bedroom, getting a piece of parchment and an inkwell out of the writing desk. She quickly scratched down her answer.

Nora-

You know me well, darling. I have, in fact, boobytrapped it. I don't believe I can have you fall for my tricks anymore. After all, we're no longer children. To answer your question, yes, I will be alone between Christmas and New Years. My husband has a work trip and he's leaving tomorrow-Christmas Eve-for London. Draco has informed me after getting home from school that one of his friends has invited him to spend Christmas with their family. So yes, my dear, I'm quite alone. But do not fret, and please, don't cry for me, as you could never be the cause of my suffering. If you should like to join me on Christmas, we can be lonely together. I would like nothing better.

With all my love,

N. B.

When Eleonora read the note sent back with Dixie-whose feathers had grayed quite a bit-a part of her felt sorry. She knew Narcissa wasn't happy, and there was very little she could do. But still she wrote back, inviting Narcissa to her home for Christmas dinner.