the return of fic
Jul. 18th, 2005 07:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rmTITLE: Returning
AUTHOR:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rm
CHARACTERS/PAIRINGS: Lucius/Narcissa/Severus
RATING: 15+
SPOILERS: Nothing specific, but those who have not gotten past Book 6, Chapter 2 should wait if they want even the slightest justification for the existence of this story. This is set sometime after the war, but who has won is immaterial to this tale.
Author’s notes: written purely for my own amusement and perhaps that of some other fannish sorts. No copyright infringement or offense intended. With thanks tokalichan, tsarina and orien.
ARCHIVING: Please ask, but I'll probably say yes.
FEEDBACK: Early and often if you're so inclined.
Severus had stopped protesting several days ago, but even for all his perfect composure he was not happy to be here. Mainly because he did not know what to expect; his own sojourn in Azkaban had been much shorter, and loathe as he was to admit any such thing, he thought his temperament was better suited to it than Lucius’s. Besides, they had all been so much younger then.
He watched Narcissa surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye. She kept fidgeting with the sleeve of her robe, and he was nearly sure that was less nervousness at seeing her husband at long last and more a repeatedly repressed desire to tell him to calm down. He found he had to fight the urge to allow that a small smile.
Finally, there was Lucius, looking better than Severus had expected. Surely, the fine robes Narcissa had brought him for his grand reentrance to the world helped, but where Severus had expected to find a dog that had been kicked repeatedly over the last too many years, instead he saw merely one that had not been fed as well as it had once been accustomed to. Lucius’s skin was no longer luminous and his hair seemed dry and tangled, its color muted. But his posture and the perpetual half-smile on his lips remained the same. Even if he was finely trembling all over.
Severus found himself instinctively taking a half step to put more space between himself and Narcissa as Lucius bent slightly to kiss her hand. She beamed at him, all vibrating restraint, but Severus could hardly miss Lucius’ eyes darting between them.
The blond man straightened and released his wife’s hand.
“Are you all right to apparate, we could –“
“Yes, yes, I think I am, but I would like to walk a little bit first, Narcissa,” he said slowly, looking up at a sky that was actually blue in he couldn’t remember how many days or weeks or years and starting off ahead of them with slow and drifting steps.
Severus shot Narcissa a look and she just smiled beatifically. He in turn tried not to be so stupid as to let the bile that was threatening rise in the back of his throat.
Lucius seemed somewhat lost in his own world, even as he spoke. “I do know. So you can stop being afraid of me, Severus, as that is not the sort of reception I would have hoped for. You were always friends, and I have not forgotten that you protected her for me when you were both small. I do not begrudge necessary comfort.”
“Thank you,” Severus said quietly, never faltering, no matter how stricken Narcissa looked, but at least she had the sense to keep quiet, and Severus not to ask what had happened in Azkaban to make Lucius so suddenly magnanimous.
Severus actually found it easier to be in the Malfoy manor now that Lucius was returned to it, mainly because it allowed him to think of it as the Malfoy manor again, as opposed to Narcissa’s home, or where he and Lucius had hosted such parties long ago, or where Draco had lived, before he died.
He returned oddly easily to old habits. Choosing a certain chair in the upstairs sitting room and retiring to a particular less than suitably grand guest bedroom late into the nights, only when the others had already found their beds.
Lucius slept alone now and Narcissa thought it was because the press of flesh in the night would awaken some terror from Azkaban. But Severus knew better, yet could not bring himself to say that Lucius simply feared that whatever he threw his arms around in slumber would no longer exist in the morning. That was the nature of Azkaban, both simple and insidious. It had made Severus a stronger thing once, and now Lucius, perhaps finer.
In the evenings, they would sit quietly together, sometimes Narcissa brushing Lucius's hair. He seemed to enjoy it, and none of them mentioned how angry the gesture had made him when Narcissa was first promised to him at just 13, when he was a 21-year-old man. It was ugly, and common he had said, and Severus had hissed angrily at him, that this is what girl children do, they brush each other’s hair and he should be grateful that she would touch him so. Lucius, though, had merely gestured towards a mirror in the room to make his disagreement with Severus’ point understood.
On other days, in the afternoons, Narcissa would come to Severus, frantic and furtive as he held her hand in memory of something that was never meant for him and explained that only with dreamless sleep would Lucius be likely to let another share his bed, but that was for her to discuss with him. Privately. It had never been his affair, and truly, he did not intend for that to change now.
After breakfasts, which they had all suddenly taken to sharing, Lucius often followed Severus to the library, and sat opposite him in a formal chair reading. When Severus had just graduated Hogwarts, Lucius would follow him and sit opposite him in this way but merely pretend to read, mocking Severus’s posture and his peace. But now that so much of Lucius’s life had happened for so long merely inside his skull, he seemed to have found solace in words. It meant a tremendous amount to Severus, even as it had nothing to do with him.
“Have you and Narcissa discussed having another child?” Severus asked unceremoniously one day, face still inclined over some trivial but academic text.
“I… no, we have not,” he said, slightly startled but ultimately just as placidly, and Severus chose not to trouble the matter further.
“Severus,” Narcissa said, infiltrating his dark and falsely private corner of the sitting room late one evening, full of agitation and mirth.
He merely looked up at her. It was enough inquiry between them.
She held a small potion bottle out to him. “He says he’ll only take it if you give it to him.”
Severus smiled. “I’m the only one he trusts not to poison him.”
“But –“
Severus rose and kissed her quickly and silent for the first time since Lucius’ release. “You never tended to his wounds or illnesses. Not medically or magically,” he said, reminding her as if she were a forgetful child. “Come,” he said, finding his own way to the master bedroom no one had been sharing, at least not for sleep, in a long time.
Lucius rolled his eyes at Severus, wry and spoiled, but Severus said nothing as it seemed, especially in these days with so many more trivial secrets to keep, the better part of valor.
He held out the bottle to him, and Lucius eyed it for a moment, before grabbing Severus’ wrist hard enough to actually force him to pour it down his throat.
Severus tried to leave then, suddenly too conscious of Narcissa’s fine but ridiculously concealing sleeping robes and the texture of the silk weave of the bed sheets, but Lucius, who was fading fast would not release him.
“You stay too,” he said softly.
Severus did not protest as it seemed futile, nor did he look at Narcissa, but merely extricated his wrist from Lucius’ grip to flick out the lamps with a whispered wandless gesture. In the dark Lucius just managed to pull his and Narcissa’s arms around him before he was snoring. Severus did not think Lucius ever used to snore, but felt uncomfortable at the prospect of working too hard to remember. He found himself then idly rubbing his thumb over the back of Narcissa’s even as he listened to the warmth of Lucius’ breathing.
“I’m so glad to have him back,” she said finally, softly and sadly but only for Severus at least.
He did not even nod. It was foolish, he thought, to have to make a show of accepting too obvious a truth. After a long time, he managed, “I shall miss the domestic bliss,” and he almost choked when she grabbed his hand so suddenly and tightly in the dark.
When they were much younger and everyone they knew had been trying to style themselves in some trivial fashion or other after Voldemort, Lucius, quite drunk, had once declared himself a creature from which all good things emanated. Severus doubted Narcissa remembered the moment, if she had even been there, but now after wars and loss (who was clearly at least one maleficent lady who would never give up on him), Severus thought he finally understood how that might just be true, at least in their tired and poisoned lives now that they were no longer young.
AUTHOR:
rmCHARACTERS/PAIRINGS: Lucius/Narcissa/Severus
RATING: 15+
SPOILERS: Nothing specific, but those who have not gotten past Book 6, Chapter 2 should wait if they want even the slightest justification for the existence of this story. This is set sometime after the war, but who has won is immaterial to this tale.
Author’s notes: written purely for my own amusement and perhaps that of some other fannish sorts. No copyright infringement or offense intended. With thanks to
kalichan, tsarina and orien. ARCHIVING: Please ask, but I'll probably say yes.
FEEDBACK: Early and often if you're so inclined.
Severus had stopped protesting several days ago, but even for all his perfect composure he was not happy to be here. Mainly because he did not know what to expect; his own sojourn in Azkaban had been much shorter, and loathe as he was to admit any such thing, he thought his temperament was better suited to it than Lucius’s. Besides, they had all been so much younger then.
He watched Narcissa surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye. She kept fidgeting with the sleeve of her robe, and he was nearly sure that was less nervousness at seeing her husband at long last and more a repeatedly repressed desire to tell him to calm down. He found he had to fight the urge to allow that a small smile.
Finally, there was Lucius, looking better than Severus had expected. Surely, the fine robes Narcissa had brought him for his grand reentrance to the world helped, but where Severus had expected to find a dog that had been kicked repeatedly over the last too many years, instead he saw merely one that had not been fed as well as it had once been accustomed to. Lucius’s skin was no longer luminous and his hair seemed dry and tangled, its color muted. But his posture and the perpetual half-smile on his lips remained the same. Even if he was finely trembling all over.
Severus found himself instinctively taking a half step to put more space between himself and Narcissa as Lucius bent slightly to kiss her hand. She beamed at him, all vibrating restraint, but Severus could hardly miss Lucius’ eyes darting between them.
The blond man straightened and released his wife’s hand.
“Are you all right to apparate, we could –“
“Yes, yes, I think I am, but I would like to walk a little bit first, Narcissa,” he said slowly, looking up at a sky that was actually blue in he couldn’t remember how many days or weeks or years and starting off ahead of them with slow and drifting steps.
Severus shot Narcissa a look and she just smiled beatifically. He in turn tried not to be so stupid as to let the bile that was threatening rise in the back of his throat.
Lucius seemed somewhat lost in his own world, even as he spoke. “I do know. So you can stop being afraid of me, Severus, as that is not the sort of reception I would have hoped for. You were always friends, and I have not forgotten that you protected her for me when you were both small. I do not begrudge necessary comfort.”
“Thank you,” Severus said quietly, never faltering, no matter how stricken Narcissa looked, but at least she had the sense to keep quiet, and Severus not to ask what had happened in Azkaban to make Lucius so suddenly magnanimous.
Severus actually found it easier to be in the Malfoy manor now that Lucius was returned to it, mainly because it allowed him to think of it as the Malfoy manor again, as opposed to Narcissa’s home, or where he and Lucius had hosted such parties long ago, or where Draco had lived, before he died.
He returned oddly easily to old habits. Choosing a certain chair in the upstairs sitting room and retiring to a particular less than suitably grand guest bedroom late into the nights, only when the others had already found their beds.
Lucius slept alone now and Narcissa thought it was because the press of flesh in the night would awaken some terror from Azkaban. But Severus knew better, yet could not bring himself to say that Lucius simply feared that whatever he threw his arms around in slumber would no longer exist in the morning. That was the nature of Azkaban, both simple and insidious. It had made Severus a stronger thing once, and now Lucius, perhaps finer.
In the evenings, they would sit quietly together, sometimes Narcissa brushing Lucius's hair. He seemed to enjoy it, and none of them mentioned how angry the gesture had made him when Narcissa was first promised to him at just 13, when he was a 21-year-old man. It was ugly, and common he had said, and Severus had hissed angrily at him, that this is what girl children do, they brush each other’s hair and he should be grateful that she would touch him so. Lucius, though, had merely gestured towards a mirror in the room to make his disagreement with Severus’ point understood.
On other days, in the afternoons, Narcissa would come to Severus, frantic and furtive as he held her hand in memory of something that was never meant for him and explained that only with dreamless sleep would Lucius be likely to let another share his bed, but that was for her to discuss with him. Privately. It had never been his affair, and truly, he did not intend for that to change now.
After breakfasts, which they had all suddenly taken to sharing, Lucius often followed Severus to the library, and sat opposite him in a formal chair reading. When Severus had just graduated Hogwarts, Lucius would follow him and sit opposite him in this way but merely pretend to read, mocking Severus’s posture and his peace. But now that so much of Lucius’s life had happened for so long merely inside his skull, he seemed to have found solace in words. It meant a tremendous amount to Severus, even as it had nothing to do with him.
“Have you and Narcissa discussed having another child?” Severus asked unceremoniously one day, face still inclined over some trivial but academic text.
“I… no, we have not,” he said, slightly startled but ultimately just as placidly, and Severus chose not to trouble the matter further.
“Severus,” Narcissa said, infiltrating his dark and falsely private corner of the sitting room late one evening, full of agitation and mirth.
He merely looked up at her. It was enough inquiry between them.
She held a small potion bottle out to him. “He says he’ll only take it if you give it to him.”
Severus smiled. “I’m the only one he trusts not to poison him.”
“But –“
Severus rose and kissed her quickly and silent for the first time since Lucius’ release. “You never tended to his wounds or illnesses. Not medically or magically,” he said, reminding her as if she were a forgetful child. “Come,” he said, finding his own way to the master bedroom no one had been sharing, at least not for sleep, in a long time.
Lucius rolled his eyes at Severus, wry and spoiled, but Severus said nothing as it seemed, especially in these days with so many more trivial secrets to keep, the better part of valor.
He held out the bottle to him, and Lucius eyed it for a moment, before grabbing Severus’ wrist hard enough to actually force him to pour it down his throat.
Severus tried to leave then, suddenly too conscious of Narcissa’s fine but ridiculously concealing sleeping robes and the texture of the silk weave of the bed sheets, but Lucius, who was fading fast would not release him.
“You stay too,” he said softly.
Severus did not protest as it seemed futile, nor did he look at Narcissa, but merely extricated his wrist from Lucius’ grip to flick out the lamps with a whispered wandless gesture. In the dark Lucius just managed to pull his and Narcissa’s arms around him before he was snoring. Severus did not think Lucius ever used to snore, but felt uncomfortable at the prospect of working too hard to remember. He found himself then idly rubbing his thumb over the back of Narcissa’s even as he listened to the warmth of Lucius’ breathing.
“I’m so glad to have him back,” she said finally, softly and sadly but only for Severus at least.
He did not even nod. It was foolish, he thought, to have to make a show of accepting too obvious a truth. After a long time, he managed, “I shall miss the domestic bliss,” and he almost choked when she grabbed his hand so suddenly and tightly in the dark.
When they were much younger and everyone they knew had been trying to style themselves in some trivial fashion or other after Voldemort, Lucius, quite drunk, had once declared himself a creature from which all good things emanated. Severus doubted Narcissa remembered the moment, if she had even been there, but now after wars and loss (who was clearly at least one maleficent lady who would never give up on him), Severus thought he finally understood how that might just be true, at least in their tired and poisoned lives now that they were no longer young.
