BREAK AT THE BEND

by D.M.P.

 

She calls me from the cold

Just when I was low, feeling short of stable

 

It was she. Stumbling in, wheeling back and forth on unsteady feet, tripping over a little wrinkle in the carpet runner - the perfect picture of awkward drunkenness.

Lucius looked up to see his wife Narcissa clutch haphazardly against the back of a tall leather chair in the middle of the library. She ran a hand through her blonde hair and gave a dopey grin at her husband.

"Hullo, Lucius..." she drawled, and giggled to herself as she straightened up.

Oh please. Lucius groaned inwardly. Narcissa had been drinking at one of her social get-ups again. It was always the same. Almost two or three times a week, Narcissa would Apparate herself home intoxicated on wine or vodka. Amazing that she could hold her wand steady enough to do so.

Usually, he didn’t mind her actions; whatever Narcissa did never affected him. Their marriage had been a marriage of convenience after all. Both their families were wealthy and Purebloods; therefore, it was only logical that they should be together. Just because Lucius was married to her didn’t mean he had to be worried if she made a fool of herself at some wizard’s bash.

Minutes passed and Narcissa did not make a move to leave the room.

Finally, he felt that he had to speak. "How was the party, Narcissa?" he asked politely.

She hiccupped and smiled. "Aaaabssssolutely fantasssstic," she replied, drawing out her words. Narcissa’s voice was the voice of a famous celebrity: always loud and doting and slight pompous. In fact, she looked pretty much like a movie star, with the golden blonde hair, cobalt blue eyes, and perfect pale complexion. Some said that Narcissa was a trophy wife, a little Barbie doll that was only there for show. That would be true if Lucius not made a point of staying away from her as much as possible.

It wasn’t as if they hated each other. Both coming from families with rather violent tendencies, they would have killed each other long before if they did. It was more like a loss, an empty void between them where the relationship should be. They were strangers living in the same house.

Narcissa was staring at him, her eyes large and dilated with liquor. Lucius shifted uncomfortably then got up from his chair by the fireplace. He wasn’t doing much before she came anyway. He often sat for hours by the fire contemplating. No one ever knew what he thought about during those times, and his son and wife often just left him alone when he did this. Now he was interrupted from his solitude and this annoyed him.

He strode toward the doorway leading to the stairwell. "Excuse me," he murmured to Narcissa, walking past her.

However, she did something very unexpected. Grabbing his arm, she latched onto him, leaning her weight against his as she let go of the chair. With a half-asleep, fazed look in her eyes, Narcissa leaned over and kissed him.

It was their first kiss in fifteen years.

Lucius recoiled sharply as if a venomous snake had bitten him. "What is wrong with you woman-!" he started. Narcissa had her arm around him and smiled happily.

In response, Lucius did the first thing that came to mind: he hit her sharply across the face.

And all that she intends

And all she keeps inside, isn’t on the label

 

Narcissa tumbled down to the carpet, stunned. Lucius stared down at her blankly, not believing what she had just done, what he had just done. For a few minutes, they just stood there in their own separate worlds, feeling shock that it had been violated. Narcissa had a hand on her cheek and was staring listlessly ahead of her. Her breath came out in uneven gasps, and she shook her head roughly, blinking hard.

Was she crying? Did he make her cry?

Lucius wanted to ask if he hurt her, ask if she was all right, ask if she needed help. But he forced those feelings down. She kissed me, he could only think. She kissed me. And no other emotion came with those words. No anger, no indignity, no vengeance for the stolen kiss. Nothing.

Why did you do it? he wanted to ask. Why? But he could only see Narcissa wiping her face with the back of her hand, avoiding his eyes.

"What did you do?" someone said tensely behind him.

Lucius looked up to the source of the voice. Draco stood on the stairwell, his expression unreadable.

Finally, Lucius got a grip on himself. "Get out of my way," he growled, storming up the stairs and past his son.

In the library Narcissa continued her silent weeping.

 

She says she’s ashamed

And she can take me for a while

 

The next day came without fanfare and things continued in the Malfoy home as if nothing had happened the night before. Lucius came downstairs at noon to a quiet house. Well, there was the occasional scurrying house elf, but they don’t count for anything.

He knew Draco was in the upstairs somewhere, probably locked in his room. He never knew how his son spent the days when he was home from Hogwarts. He wondered if he should go up there, in his room by the east tower, just to see. But then what would he do then? He couldn’t just knock in and drop by; it would be too awkward for the both of them. So he left Draco to himself, just as he had done all his life.

Narcissa had disappeared, probably off on another shopping spree. That was all she ever did: shop and get drunk at parties. Only now did Lucius ponder why she never spent any time around the house. There was one reason actually; there was no point to do so. It wasn’t as if they spent any quality time together.

Lucius knew that he had a pile of paperwork that he had to attend to. True, he didn’t work at the Ministry anymore, but he still had accounts and outside business to check on. He still made a hefty income even without a job in investments in the wizarding stock market and other business deals.

He entered the library to see somebody already there. Narcissa turned to face him. If he had bruised her from the incident the night before, it must have been magically healed, since her face was as smooth and flawless as always. She was dressed up to go out, wearing her long, mink-lined robes and a calfskin purse clutched in her manicured hands.

"Lucius," she addressed stiffly, her voice showing no signs of a hangover. She glared at him with fiercely, yet with a bit of hidden fear. Her eyes were cold, bring out the clear blue of them. Almost like winter ice.

"Narcissa," Lucius replied in the same formal tone. The two seemed to have a little staring contest, until Narcissa cast her eyes downward, then spoke again.

"I was a fool," she said abruptly. "Last night..."

"I know." A lie. Lucius didn’t know anything at all. Again he wanted to ask why but held back. Narcissa was a stranger, and he felt his confidence stumble in finding what to say to her.

"It won’t happen again."

He nodded mutely. She took it for an acceptance of her apology, if one would call that an apology. Narcissa stood up taller, raising her head to met her husband’s gaze again. "I’m going out, Lucius," she said smoothly. "Don’t expect me for dinner." Taking out her wand, she murmured, "Apparatus," and disappeared.

 

And I can be a friend, we’ll forget the past

But maybe I’m not able

And I break at the bend

 

That was it. Lucius stood dumbfounded. But what else did he expect? For her to start crying again? For her to shrink back and cower from him for a few days? After all, why should she be afraid of him, her husband of fifteen years, a nobody in her separate world?

He made his way to his desk and sat down. He sighed, propped an elbow in the desk and put a hand to his forehead in thought.

Last night seemed like nothing to her, but meant everything to him. She was drunk and made a fool of herself, just as Lucius always expected of her eventually. But yet... did the kiss mean something more? Did he want it to mean something more? Did Narcissa?

Christ, he didn’t know why this was bothering him so much! He pulled out his stock portfolio hurriedly and began leafing quickly through the papers. Yet he couldn’t concentrate on the numbers. Slamming the sheets back down on the desk, Lucius got up quickly and began to pace the room.

Drunks act like idiots, he reasoned to himself. Idiotic behavior, that’s all it was. Yet this explanation didn’t seem to satisfy him.

All his life, Lucius had never seen Narcissa act like that. She was always so arrogant, so self-assured, so contained and distant and aloof... so like him. And now, one night changed it all.

But there must be another side to his wife that Lucius didn’t know about. Why did she go to parties after all, if not to socialize? Lucius was a very introverted person, so he would never leave the house unless it was for a very good reason. Narcissa was gone for somewhere every other night. Yet what did she do? Did she have friends? Elitist companions? Drinking buddies? He didn’t know, and this bothered him greatly, not knowing what he wife did.

Maybe there was a different side to Narcissa, and he wasn’t referring to her drunken one. Was Narcissa actually more than the remote woman he knew for fifteen years? Who was she?

He didn’t know.

 

Here and now, will we ever be again?

‘Cause I have found

All that shimmers in this world is sure to fade

Away again

 

Lucius knew that he could never let this go. Once thought, the mystery of his wife continued to puzzle him.

He headed up stairs, trying to figure it all out.

I suppose she is a social butterfly, he thought. Always drinking...

But liquor did not always mean being social. A tavern perhaps? No. Lucius couldn’t imagine his wife hitting the bars each night. Her arrogance wouldn’t permit her to go somewhere to where common wizards mixed. She probably did go to those all-night elitist balls. Lucius wondered whether the reason why so many were held was so that the rich were able to get drunk with the rich.

How much alcohol would make her kiss him? That was the other question that plagued his mind. Lucius didn’t feel insulted that she would have to be intoxicated to kiss him; it would have probably been the same the other way around if Lucius wasn’t allergic to alcohol.

For, of course, she would never touch him otherwise. Lucius felt a sharp stab in his heart at this thought, and it hurt more knowing it was true.

Had she ever wanted to kiss him before? Was that why she cried when he hit her? Because he rejected her?

Did she want to love him?

Did he want to love her?

 

She dreams champagne dreams

Strawberry surprise, pink linen and white paper

Lavender and cream

Fields of butterflies, reality escapes her

 

Stopping by the first door to his right, Lucius put and hand on the doorknob. This led to her rooms. They slept in separate bedrooms and had claim to several rooms in the house for themselves. Lucius had never bothered to enter her rooms before, but now he wanted to. He had to know who Narcissa was.

Opening the door, the first sense that struck him was the smell. Expensive perfume filled the air. The scent of lavender potpourri, increased a hundred-fold. It almost made him gag, but after a few moments, he got used to it.

The room was a private study and was filled light and quite cheery, despite the darkness the rest of the house was seeped in. Pastel colors were everywhere, with pale blue covering the walls highlighted by golden yellow curtains framing the sun-filled windows.

At the other end of the room was the door to the bedroom. That door was ajar, and upon entering it, Lucius could see even more shining sunlight streaming down from the skylights. The bed was all white linen and lace. An airy canopy was draped over it and the ruffles blew softly in the breeze. These couple rooms were in stark contrast with the shady and dark atmosphere Lucius was accustomed to. This was her world, wasn’t it? Her alternative reality. He was surprised that Narcissa liked the light so much.

Stepping back into her study, he explored the room some more. Several large, comfortable sitting chairs were in the corner, decorated with pink and mint embroidered throw pillows. A large mahogany desk was in the corner, and next to it was a white shelf with a row of dolls displayed on it.

Dolls? Lucius never realized Narcissa had a collection of any type, never mind dolls. These were not children’s toys but the costly collector type, made of porcelain and silk. He made his way to the shelf and picked up the first doll. This one was elegantly made, dressed in light blue taffeta and holding a little matching purse. Its lips were painted a deep red and its little glass eyes were a perfect shade of azure. With unusual delicacy, Lucius stroked the figure’s corn silk hair. It was very beautiful like a statue was beautiful. Something to be admired at a distance, but never made to hold and love.

That was when Lucius realized that the doll he was holding looked very familiar. Narcissa.

 

She says that love is for fools who fall behind

And I’m somewhere between

I never really know

A killer from a savior

‘Til I break at the bend

 

That night Lucius was waiting for Narcissa when she returned. She came bustling in draped with various bags and boxes.

"Draco...!" she called over her shoulder. "I’ve got a new cloak for you to try-"

The two almost bumped into each other in the hallway, and Narcissa jumped back in surprise, dropping a bag. "Oh," she said haughtily when she got her bearings, "it’s you."

Lucius took a deep breath. "Narcissa, I-" he started.

The indifferent expression coated her face again, making it hard and impenetrable. How different it was from the warm joy he saw last night! The tiniest part of him wanted to see that again. Her expression now reminded him too much of his own, especially when he knew that something else was hidden away underneath the surface.

"I want to ask you something," he began rigidly, not knowing how to get the words out.

"Then get on with it," she snapped, turning away from him. "Draco, come down here!"

"Just look at me!" Lucius said, grabbing her wrist. Narcissa glared at him in disdain then inhaled deeply.

"What is it then?" she asked as civilly as possible.

He was going about this wrong, wasn’t he? Yes, he was. Look at her, with her guard up again! And he only wanted to figure her out! To know who she was, to know if they could possible love each other.... Lucius, you imbecile, why can’t you get anything right!

Lucius let go and Narcissa backed away, not breaking her stare.

A crazy notion suddenly came to him. He wanted to kiss her right then, just to see how he would feel. How they would feel. But like all insane ideas, he drove it away.

"Last night..." he said slowly.

"Last night was a fluke," Narcissa said bluntly. "An accident. I never meant it and never will mean it. Are you happy now?" she ended in a harsh tone. "Is that what you wanted to hear??"

No, it wasn’t.

Lucius managed to control himself. "Yes," he said stiffly, closing his eyes for a second. "Yes, it was." Then it was he who backed away, he who left her alone again, he who disappeared, his soul in tears.

 

Here and now, will we ever be again?

‘Cause I have found

All the shimmers in this world is sure to fade

Away again

 

Stomping through the upper hall, he didn’t see Draco until he nearly bumped into him, just like with Narcissa downstairs. He gave him a passing glance and was about to enter his rooms when he saw Draco in front of him again, blocking the doorway.

"Get out of the way," he said, then realized that he had said the exact same words to his son last night. They rarely said three whole sentences to each other in a day and now Lucius was repeating himself.

Except that tonight Draco came up with a reply. "I won’t," he said darkly, boldly confronting Lucius.

His anger and frustration built up, but Lucius turned away to head up to the third floor. He didn’t want to hurt Draco now, after hurting Narcissa and then himself.

"Don’t you walk away from me, Father," Draco challenged, and Lucius whirled around to face him.

"What. Is. It?" he said grimly. He couldn’t take this anymore. Something was about to explode, something was about to go off, and he knew that.

"I saw what happened last night."

The kiss? Lucius felt a bit of surprise that quelled his turmoil for a moment. Whether Draco noticed he couldn’t tell. He could never tell much about Draco, except that he can be just like him.

"You hit her."

That. Lucius hardened his gaze, unsure of what else to do. "And?" He let the question hang in the air.

Draco’s face was full of contempt for him. It seemed to radiate from him, this hate. It made Lucius sick to feel to know this. The whole thing was a misunderstanding. If Draco only knew...

"Don’t do that again," Draco paused. "I won’t let you."

"You wouldn’t let me??" This was too much. "What will you do about it then?" he dared. He wasn’t really angry at Draco, nor Narcissa. He was mad at himself, at his own stupidity and coldness. It was all his fault, his fault that his family acted the way they did.

"I’ll kill you."

The answer startled Lucius so much that he didn’t know how to respond.

Draco enforced his words in a voice that was deeper and more dangerous than Lucius had ever heard before. "If you ever," he threatened, speaking slowly so that every word could be heard with utmost clarity, "touch her like that again, I will kill you, I swear."

And then he slipped down the hall and was gone.

 

It’s too far away for me to hold

It’s too far away...

 

Lucius shut himself in his bedroom and sat down at the edge of the bed. He was confused. He never thought Draco would say what he just did. Did Draco care for his mother? Did she care for her son in return? Did Draco care for him, his father?

He knew that answer to the last question. No.

No one cared for him at all, not even his own wife, not even his own son.

Lucius put his head in his hands. This wasn’t happening to him; this couldn’t be true! What was wrong with him?? With all of them??

Now he knew that they couldn’t ignore each other any more. But how can they act? How can they be a family after fifteen years of being alone?

The answer was simple. Either try and become a family while there is still time, or let it be.

 

It’s too far away for me to hold

Too far away...

 

Family. Could they try...? Maybe if they talked with each other, maybe if they got to know each other, maybe if they really wanted to, then they could be a family. And only then, maybe there could be love. Or even a simple kiss.

Yet Lucius recalled the mask of unconcern on Narcissa’s face, and the mask of hatred on Draco’s. He thought about his own mask that he wore. And he knew it was too late to do anything now. They had their masks for too long, disguising each other until all they could see was each other’s deception and nothing else.

Oh, if only Lucius could open up to them! If only he could explain....

But how can he?

After all, they were only strangers living in the same house.

Forget it, Lucius thought angrily to himself. Tomorrow this won’t be spoken of. She’ll go out and become drunk and he’ll shut himself up and become silent and I...

He lay on the cold bed and shut off the lights.

And I’ll just become the only thing I can be to them: nothing.

 

Guess I’ll let it go....