Call Me Psyche - Dramione

18

Narcissa Black Malfoy turned her back to the disgusted huffing of the Dark Lord and ran out of her drawing room. She gathered her skirts in her fist and rushed up the grand staircase of Malfoy Manor calling after her husband as he ran before her.

"Lucius! Lucius, darling, wait!"

Blindly, Lucius stumbled down the corridor to their bedroom. She had barely slipped inside behind him before the door slammed shut. Alone with his wife in their private rooms, Lucius paced, his breath too fast and shallow. His skin was so pale it was green as he tore at the cravat around his neck. He threw off his jacket, still unable to speak, strangled by the sob he held in his throat.

Narcissa had just caught her breath to speak to him when Lucius cracked into halting, choking words.

"How can he be – " he began. "I thought I would have known if he'd – . I thought I'd feel it in my heart, in my bones like a limb amputated. You said yourself, Cissa, the boy and I were once one soul."

He was still tearing at his clothing, pulling his tunic over his head and twisting it in a knot between his hands. "And last I spoke with him, before those wretches brought Potter here all I could say to him was how disappointed – " He broke off again, his head in his hands now. "Cissa – our boy – "

She fell on him, tugging his hands from his hair, kissing his cheeks. "Hush, darling. Hush."

Lucius dropped to his knees on the rug, hopeless in spite of Narcissa's arms around him. "No, it's all wrong," he said, his voice still tight with sobs. "Everything we've ever done. It's wrong."

She hushed him again. "You can't say that, darling. If they sent a spy to follow us and someone heard – "

He wasn't listening. "What does it matter when Draco's – when he's gone?"

She smoothed his hair, still shushing. "We must be brave, and go on – "

"He's dead," Lucius hissed through his teeth. "He's dead. He's got to be. You aren't marked yourself, and you wouldn't know. When the Dark Lord calls, he cannot be denied. The only way to defy him is to die."

The words tore through him, loosing his tears. His body heaved in Narcissa's arms. She clung to him as he wept, both of them on their knees on the floor. She didn't feel the grief as strongly as he did, but his pain drew tears from her all same.

Narcissa knew her son was not necessarily dead. He had accepted her wand when Severus gave it to him. He had gone after the girl traveling with Potter, and Potter had left the manor with Bella's wand. And if, as she assumed, Draco had gone to Andromeda for shelter, he would now know the whereabouts of all three of the Black Sororal Triad wands. They would be short one user but – Draco was clever and ruthless. That was how they had raised him. Between him and Andromeda, they might have figured out a way to use the wands to resist Voldemort's call.

Lucius knew none of this. And Narcissa couldn't tell him now. The only way to keep Draco safe from the Dark Lord was to convince him Draco was dead. Lucius was a decent Occlumens but decent was never enough to keep a secret from the Dark Lord. Only an expert Occlumens could do it, and Narcissa knew only two living people in the country who fit that description: Severus Snape and herself. Snape said once that she could tell someone a dead man was alive and they'd believe her. And now, to keep Draco's survival a secret, she had to let Lucius believe his living son was dead.

But witnessing his grief over a fake death was even more excruciating than Narcissa had feared it would be. For hours he was inconsolable. Finally, she slipped a sleeping draught into a small glass of wine – the only sustenance she could convince Lucius to take – and at last he fell asleep.