Growing up Pureblooded

Slytherin vs. Pride

The room was empty, save the hard-backed wooden chair on which Narcissa sat, her gaze fixed and her posture perfect. Years worth of dust had accumulated on every surface, and the blonde witch wrinkled her nose at the filth. Her arms and legs were bound tightly to the chair with magical rope, and her delicate skin chafed under the pressure.

Her mouth was dry and sticky – she would have given her right arm for a glass of water – and her stomach rumbled. She had seen no sign of her husband since he had brought her here two days before. He had given her neither food nor water, and she had sat up in that horrid chair the whole time. Narcissa was exhausted, starving and filthy, and to make matters worse, she hadn't the faintest notion of why Lucius had done this.

Her relations with her husband had always been cordial, and, at times, quite affectionate. Even after his shocking behavior towards their son and his consequent dismissal from the family, she had not wished to lose contact with him. She had sent him owls, even offered him money, but Lucius had made no reply to her generous overtures. Narcissa had believed that he wanted nothing more to do with her.

But now he had abducted her and brought her to some secluded Muggle house – at least she presumed it was a Muggle house, as she had seen no sign of magic on her way in. In any event, the house had clearly been long abandoned. It made no sense to her at all.

The lock clicked, and Lucius stepped through the door, carrying a pewter plate, on which sat a large crust of bread, and a small cup of water. He set them down on the window sill. "Untie me at once, Lucius," Narcissa demanded. "How dare you presume to abduct me and keep me prisoner? I am your wife." Lucius raised an eyebrow. "As far as I'm concerned, you lost all privileges associated with that title when you and my father took Black's side against me." "You used our son as a weapon against his best friend and tried to kill my cousin," Narcissa reminded him. "How would you have me respond?" "I would have you submit to my decisions like an obedient wife and trust me when I say that I have acted for the best," Lucius replied. "Trust you?" Narcissa laughed bitterly. "I shall never trust you again."

Lucius ran a hand along her cheek, and the witch shivered. "You're quite right, I'm afraid," he said quietly. "There can never again be trust between us. You have betrayed me, Narcissa, and I can never forgive that. However, I will permit you to earn back some small part of what you have forfeited through your actions." "My actions?" Narcissa snapped. "How dare you?" "Temper, temper, my dear," Lucius said smoothly. "I swear you sound more like your mother with each passing year." He Levitated the chair over to the window, then untied her left hand with a flick of his wand. "Eat, drink and be merry, Narcissa," he said. "You must recover your strength before the Dark Lord admits you into his presence."

Narcissa turned very pale. "The Dark Lord is here?" "Naturally," Lucius sneered. "It was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named who commanded me to retrieve you and bring you here. He has plans for you. Do not worry, my love. Once he is done with you he has promised to turn you over to me, and we can resume our lives of wedded bliss." His wife tried to spit at him, but she didn't have nearly enough saliva to manage it. "Tut, tut, Narcissa," Lucius said disapprovingly. "That's not very lady-like. The wife of Lucius Malfoy must maintain her dignity at all times." "You can do what you like to me," Narcissa replied in a cold voice, "but as far as I am concerned you are no longer my husband." Lucius shrugged. "The Imperius Curse may yet change your mind," he said. "We will be a family again, Narcissa. One way or another."

The witch's pride made her want to refuse the bread and water Lucius had brought, to throw them back in his face, but her empty stomach and parched throat persuaded her otherwise. She drained the cup in a single draught, then began nibbling at the bread. When she had finished, Lucius flicked his wand again, freeing her feet and tying both her hands behind her back. He forced her to stand, then led her down a dark corridor to a musty room, lit only by a small fire. There, sitting in a high-backed armchair, was the Dark-Lord-possessed former Defense master.

Narcissa thought fast. Once again her highly-developed Slytherin instincts did battle with her pureblood pride, and once again her wish to survive won out. Narcissa decided to do what she knew best. She dropped into a low curtsy. "My lord," she said in a docile voice. Even with disheveled hair and both arms tied behind her back, the witch cut quite an impressive figure. Lucius looked at her strangely. The cold cackling that Narcissa knew all too well emanated from the back of Quirrell's head. "'My lord', Narcissa?" Voldemort replied. "I was under the impression that you were now consorting with my enemies."

Narcissa laughed, doing her best to imitate her eldest sister. "My lord, I am afraid that Lucius has lied to you. I am as loyal to your cause as my unfortunate sister. Had Lucius made even the slightest effort to persuade me by more gentlemanly means, I should have flocked willingly to your banner." "Lies," Lucius growled. "My lord, I told her that it was at your orders that I gave the Black brat the diary."

Narcissa sniffed. "And why should I believe you under such circumstances,Lucius?" she said, her haughty voice dripping with the scorn that only a Black could summon. "I know that you have always been jealous of your nephew's power." Lucius looked at his wife with a mixture of disbelief and amazement. "Yes," Voldemort said, cutting in. "Let's talk more about the boy. He is, after all, the reason I have brought you to my late father's house." "What does my lord wish to know?" Narcissa asked, bowing her head. When the Dark Lord responded, his hoarse voice sent tremors up the witch's spine. "Everything."