Hey, Soul Sister [Lucius/Narcissa]

Chapter Twenty

"When did you write to them, again?"

"It's been three days." Narcissa sighed, shaking her head. "If I had to guess, they're punishing me. Trying to make me worry by refusing to answer, you know."

Lucius frowned, looking out over the lake. He knew she was probably right, which was completely infuriating. The fact that her parents knew her well enough to anticipate her worry and had decided to use it against her bothered him deeply. Almost three weeks had passed since he and Narcissa had admitted their feelings for one another, and apart from a snide remark from a classmate now and then, things had been relatively quiet. Narcissa had been attempting to work out the best way to explain to her parents that she'd gone against their wishes and had begun seeing someone who wasn't Thorfinn Rowle, and Lucius had spent the majority of the time not devoted to his lessons either with her or anticipating another summons from the Dark Lord that had yet to arrive. It was, he believed, only a matter of time before he was called away again. Though he was still agitated about being summoned only for the purposes of a test, Lucius told himself that he wouldn't mind something similar happening again as long as the next time he was called away, it wasn't due to the death of his father.

He knew that Narcissa understood what he was going through, or at least that she was trying to do so and to support him in any way she could, which he appreciated more than he knew how to tell her. Instead of using words, he'd taken to demonstrating his gratitude. Today, he'd awaited her after her last lesson of the morning to lead her out onto the grounds. As their first attempt at sitting by the lake had been thwarted by the burning of the Dark Mark, Lucius hoped this one—for which they'd traded the opportunity to eat with the rest of their House—would be more successful.

"Well," he said, returning his focus to Narcissa, "they're being absurd. I still can't believe they tried to force that on you."

"Can't you?" Narcissa leaned back, supporting herself with her elbows and frowning as she stared at the water in front of where they sat on a blanket Lucius had brought with him.

"Only because I know them," he said. "I mean it more as a general figure of speech. I can't believe any parent would—"

"Lucius, please. Let's talk about something else."

He considered for a moment. His first instinct was to mention Quidditch, but he was certain she was probably tired of hearing about it, considering there was no new information, with the season not having officially started. Lucius found that the number of lighthearted topics he had to discuss was steadily dwindling.

"Have you spoken with Andi lately?" he asked after a moment.

Narcissa looked at him, then. He knew she'd probably expected something dreadful to come of the evening they'd spent at The Three Broomsticks with her sister and Ted, and after that night had ended, he supposed she'd expected him never to mention it or either of the others again. Lucius had gone into that meeting expecting to hate Ted, and he did, if only because the man was infuriatingly polite and had made an attempt to change everything Lucius believed about how a Mudblood should behave. Still, he inquired for the sake of Narcissa's well-being and not that of either Tonks.

"She's expecting."

Lucius's eyes widened. "What?"

Narcissa nodded. "It's not like I didn't anticipate it, but it's... so soon."

Lucius frowned. The idea of a member of the Black family having a child with a Mudblood was appalling, but he didn't plan to say this aloud. He needed a way to divert the topic before he could say something to accidentally offend Narcissa. He allowed a moment to pass in silence, and then he leaned close and kissed her cheek.

"All right," he said quietly. "Apart from all the lunacy going on with your family, how are you?"

Narcissa shrugged, giving him a half-smile in response to the kiss. Lucius observed the dark circles under her blue eyes, and he wondered whether she'd been having trouble sleeping.

"I'm fine," she said. He knew it was a lie, but she didn't give him time to press her. "We should probably go back before it gets much later. I don't want to make you late to class."

Lucius hesitated for a moment, by no means eager to leave Narcissa's company for that of his Potions class, but he knew she was right. He stood and helped her to her feet before producing his wand and muttering a spell to transport the blanket and the remnants of the food they'd brought outside back to his dormitory. He then lifted his schoolbag onto his shoulder and took Narcissa's hand, starting back toward the castle.

Lucius had finished preparing his potion according to Slughorn's specifications when Walden began kicking him in the shin beneath the table in a steady rhythm. For the first several moments, Lucius stared pointedly forward, determined to ignore his friend's blatant attempt to bother him, but when the kicking persisted with no sign of an end, Lucius gave in, sighing irritably.

"What?" he demanded, turning toward Walden with exasperation plain on his features.

"Are you planning to avoid the rest of us all the time, now that you and Narcissa are... well, sneaking off to do whatever you're doing?"

Lucius rolled his eyes. "We're not 'sneaking off.' We would've told you where we were going, if you'd asked. It's not like it's a secret. And no, Walden, we're not avoiding you. It's just not exactly easy to talk with you lot making jokes, if you can imagine."

"Us? Making jokes?" asked Augustus from Walden's other side, laying a hand over his heart indignantly and then rolling his eyes. "As if we'd do such a thing."

"I'm going to throw something at you." Lucius glanced at the spare ingredients lying out on his desk and contemplated for a moment which ones Professor Slughorn would miss the least. "The point is, no, we aren't avoiding anyone."

"Then let's do something as a group," said Walden with a shrug.

"And what do you suggest?" asked Lucius, more to humor him than out of genuine curiosity. He knew from experience that any plan of Walden Macnair's was likely to end in disaster.

"I'll think of something."

"And then I'll think of something less idiotic," put in Augustus.

"Up for debate," said Lucius, turning back to his potion. As he looked into the cauldron, he froze. The liquid within had begun to roil while his focus had been elsewhere, and it had turned to a deep brown as it bubbled upward, quickly approaching the cauldron's edge. He reached for his wand, struggling to formulate a spell that might do something to aid him, but he could think of nothing with even a remote chance of working. The potion had been perfectly fine before he'd looked away. What the hell happened? he thought, fuming. He couldn't begin to undo the damage if he had no idea what had gone wrong.

He glanced down the row of desks just in time to see the retreating figure of Thorfinn Rowle slipping back into his seat.

"I'm going to kill him," Lucius muttered.

A moment later, the potion spilled over the edge of the cauldron, running like a thick, dark fountain onto the stone floor of the classroom. Several people jumped back from the mess as it fanned out across the area surrounding Lucius's desk, and at the sound of a series of gasps, Slughorn looked in the direction of the disturbance.

"What—what in Merlin's name—Malfoy! What's going on there?" he asked, hurrying toward Lucius. "What did you add?"

"No idea, Professor," said Lucius through gritted teeth. "My hand must've slipped." He stepped back from the cauldron, trying to keep the potion from touching his shoes as the desk legs it had run into began to sizzle.

Slughorn frowned. "That's not like you. Anyway, class is dismissed while I sort this out. Do try not to step in it, children."

The instant the class began to filter out, Lucius headed down the row to where he'd last seen Rowle. Thorfinn, however, had been seated near the door and had already escaped through it by the time Lucius reached the proper desk. Lucius left the classroom without a word to anyone and started down the corridor, glaring harshly at the path in front of him.

He believed he saw a flash of dark hair disappearing behind a statue, but the person to whom it belonged had appeared too short to be the one he wanted to hex, and the hair had seemed much too long, so Lucius paid the movement no mind.