Proud As A...

                                                        Once upon a time there were three sisters.                                The eldest two were named for stars and laired with snakes                                           and their veins thrummed with strong magic.                                                                  The youngest was named for a flower                                                                         and she had no magic at all                                                              save what her sisters cast on her behalf.                                                                                        Once upon a time…

He was still in that cold place, where nothing really mattered. Not the words that Lucius was spouting, and not the threats, either. “I was meaning on the more of being unable to control yourself,” he drawled. “Say what you will about me, there’s nothing you can say that I haven’t heard before.”

He didn’t look away from Lucius, but shifted just so to get out of Narcissa’s way. “If you would be so kind as to take the lead, love,” he said, obviously not speaking to Lucius despite having his eyes trained on him. “I believe we’re done here, unless you’ve anything else you’d like to say while Malfoy is throwing a tantrum befit of a two year old?”

He hated idiots who believed in this love bull shit. They always got their hearts broken. Surprise! Love didn’t exist. Grow up. You were just a stepping stone, a tool to be used. That’s all anyone was. That’s all anyone used anyone else for. 

When Zachariah spoke to her, shifting as if to indicate they were about to leave, Narcissa stepped forward and caught at his arm, tugging it down a little. “Don’t do this," she murmured to him, glancing at Lucius through tear-studded eyes.

She blinked them away furiously, willing herself not to break down now. But she felt like her soul was dying, his words echoing in her head in his voice and her mother’s voice and Bellatrix’s voice, too—his words and theirs, making her feel as worse as she had ever felt, guilty for her sisters’ transgressions and entirely crushed.

"You’re an awful person," she said, louder now, looking straight at Lucius. “You hurt people when things don’t go your way. I needed space. You won’t even give me that." Narcissa looked towards Zach, then down at the floor, eyes veiled by the hair that fell over her face.

"Space?!" he snarled, the word bursting from his lips like a curse. "You call him 'space'?" He jerked his wand toward Scarborough, just pointing with it though, not hexing; at the moment, Lucius couldn't think of a hex foul enough, nor did he know which of the pair he would most like to hurt first. "You lied to me, Narcissa. You accepted my apology, asked for space, and then threw yourself into his arms while you laughed behind my back! You toy with me, tease me, torment me, betray me--and then you have the gall to try and blame me?"

Lucius shook his head, stepping back, no more eager to touch Narcissa than she was, him. "You are a loathsome creature," he said coolly, "the very worst kind of petty, scheming witch, and I pity Bellatrix that she must be saddled with two such shameless hussies for her sisters. I cannot believe I was so taken in by your games and pretenses to actually think that you were worthy of me!"

He stepped close to them suddenly, cutting off their exit; his eyes flickered between Narcissa and Scarborough, checking to make sure that neither of them would be foolish enough to throw a spell. Lucius loomed over the short girl; nor could the other boy match his imposing height. He practically stepped on the toes of Narcissa's dainty shoes, but took care to keep his robes from brushing hers; he wanted none of her filth to contaminate his person.

"You disgust me," he whispered icily, quite nearly meaning in. Lucius's eyes blazed with even more rage than they did hurt, the pain of Narcissa's betrayal swamped beneath his anger at having been so thoroughly fooled by the manipulative little witch--at having been foolish enough to love her.

Well, Lucius was done with that; done with foolishness, and love, and with Narcissa Black. She was nothing to him, now, and she would clearly always be nothing. Look at the scum she was willing to settle for, as replacement for him. Zachariah Scarborough was not even worth having for an enemy. Lucius did not know the other wizard's secret but, for once, Lucius decided not to care; whatever shame Zachariah brought the Scarborough family, it did not matter to Lucius. He did not care about either of them. Let them both rot together; Lucius was done.

He spun on his heel, his black robes swirling furiously around him, and stalked to the door. He did not hesitate, not caring if one or both of them threw hexes; in fact, he would relish the excuse to turn back and attack them, and he knew that he would make them both very sorry for braving his wrath if they were stupid enough to do so.

“The only scandal is that i was born out of wedlock,” he spat, not at all happy. “If you must know, it was to a witch in Spain. To preserve her honor my father took me rather than let her name be sullied. Not that I’d expect you to understand how a witch of worth is supposed to be treated.”

He kept his wand up in case he needed to protect himself or Narcissa, stepping forward to move between her and Malfoy just on instinct. He’d deal with hurt pride later if she made a fuss. 

“It’s a shame, really. To think a Malfoy would stoop so low as to need to dig to sling mud. If anything, the Blacks are better than you. You want to go on about fraternizing with someone lesser than you? You should be honored that Narcissa even gave you a passing glance. Instead you tossed it aside and then act like a spoiled child when you’re caught and sully your name. I would suggest you start acting your station. Unless, of course, you think your own parents would enjoy hearing about your behavior.”

Luckily, before she could break down, Zach stepped forward, absolving her of the responsibility to react. Narcissa, though reluctant to let him fight her battles, realized that this was as much about him now as it was about Lucius’ selfish, betrayed misunderstanding of why she had moved on from him.

Lucius settled comfortably into a dueling stance, one foot slightly in front of the other, balanced on the balls of his feet; his wand arm extended straight out, the tip of his elm wand pointed unerringly right between Scarborough's beady little eyes; the other was bent loosely at his side, ready to balance should he have to dodge a return curse--not that he thought that was likely. Surely a Ravenclaw would be smart enough to know his limitations.

"I will give you that one as a warning shot," Lucius said calmly, his normally lilting drawl gone flat with displeasure. "After all, a half-bred brat such as yourself cannot be expected to know how civilized people behave, not with an upbringing such as yours. If you draw on me a second time," Lucius cautioned him coldly, "I will not be so lenient."

His eyes flickered toward Narcissa only once during his speech; Lucius knew that it was risky to take one's eyes off of an opponent, even for a moment, but he had wanted to be sure that the witch was not going to interfere. After all, not only had Lucius learned that she could be magically unpredictable, he had also recently discovered that she had no concept of proper behavior, either.

Imagine, to lecture him on infidelity for a kiss before they had even committed to one another, and then almost immediately upon renewing their temporarily estranged bond, she had thrown herself into the arms of some disinherited illegitimate pauper. It was not just deplorable, it was disappointing. At least now Lucius knew why she had said she wanted space.

Lucius focused his attention on Scarborough, dismissing Narcissa entirely. If she was not perfect, she was worthless.

"Do not presume to lecture me, boy," Lucius sneered. His lips twitched into a thin, sharp smile. "You want to tattle on me to my father?" he asked, his cool voice rich with amusement. "By all means," Lucius drawled, "do so. Tell him how his son and heir has come to his senses before he could let the Malfoy name be brushed by the muddy taint that currently besmears that of Black. I'm sure he'll find the news quite pleasant.

"The fact that it is all red only means that the Mud-bloods among us can hide all the easier," Lucius continued harshly, "which makes their threat all the more insidious. Don't tell me you approve of their attempts to destroy magical society?" he asked, one sharp eyebrow arching up in accusation.

Narcissa found herself with a twisted feeling in her stomach and disdain for both boys who were vying for her—affection? attention? She didn’t know or care anymore. Of course, the tired irritation she felt toward Zach didn’t even match the intensity of negative feelings currently swirling in her stomach for Lucius Malfoy.

It was a good thing Bellatrix had already taught her to control her emotion-fueled powers, because Narcissa could have created an even worse fireball in that moment than she had the last time she’d confronted Lucius. She considered it, because the image of a huddled, broken Alice Fortescue was a tantalizing reason to turn the arrogant Malfoy boy into char—but she didn’t want to end up expelled for killing a student.

But if he was going to talk to her like that—insult her family like that—Narcissa wasn’t about to let him go without some kind of repayment. Free from Zach’s embrace, she stood—rendering her taller than anyone else in the room, since she’d had her feet resting on a stool—and felt the cold air from the ceiling of the dungeons sizzling against her hot skin. Well, maybe she wasn’t perfectly in control of herself yet, but at least she wasn’t sparking.

Narcissa’s anger shut down into cold, steely rage, the picture of glacial elegance as she stepped down from the stool and approached Lucius Malfoy.

“Of course you were wrong about me,” she said, her voice like water flowing over a glacier just before it cracks off into the ocean. “I already know what you pretend to be such a scandal.” The smile on her lips looked painted on, her teeth smooth and straight but reminiscent of daggers. “Can’t you hear the gossip already? The beautiful third daughter of the hard-beset Blacks, distraught after that horrible womanizing Malfoy boy broke her heart, finds solace in the arms of a handsome, stalwart boy whose parents never appreciated him as they should. Oh,” she sighed, fluttering her eyelashes, “it is not to be, however, because just as his parents take notice in him, her parents put an end to it, seeking to engage her to a better man to cover up the disappointing failed engagement of their second daughter to the violent Mr. Carrow…” Narcissa’s hand went to her breast with affected emotion. “I do so love a story, Mr. Malfoy.”

And it would be a thrilling one, especially if Lucius Malfoy reacted in jealousy, as he was now—even his insults betrayed that.

Narcissa could have been ten years older, by the way she held herself and controlled the situation. Something in her demeanor was more like that of an adult Narcissa, a hint of what she would be someday: beautiful and sharp and dangerous, hidden beneath this veil of perfect composure and respectability. “Don’t you see, Mr. Malfoy,” she said sweetly, “this is my design. Stirring the rumors, not letting the dust settle on my name, and fostering a wonderful little tale for the tabloids.”

Of course he was wrong about her. He assumed she was settling, when all she was doing was finding the opposite of him—finding someone who was reliable and simple and predictable and treated her like a human instead of an object, as Lucius did. “Who could say what end that tale has, though?” Narcissa shrugged delicately. “Once the Scarboroughs realize Zachariah has the potential to attract the interest of the likes of me, and my parents retrieve me as their crown jewel, the story could go anywhere.”

Narcissa did truly love stories, and while she was spinning this tale inside her imagination, it was a thrilling one the more she considered it. And the best ending she could weave—though she would never admit it now—would be the humbled Lucius Malfoy, now reformed after pining for his lost love, returning to sweep her off her feet with a grand show of apology.

She could see the same ending starting to form in Lucius’ eyes, too. She could always count on him to be as calculating—or almost as calculating—as she was.

He bit off his own words before he’d even gotten started as Narcissa started talking. Even like this, he was unwilling to interrupt her, his manners winning out. Instead her words were given only a cursory glance before being set aside to properly inspect later. All he needed to know is she claimed to use their relationship as a tool and he’d already known that. 

He didn’t know when his wand had come to hand, his fingers rolling it slowly. He didn’t point it to anyone though. No, he forced himself to keep his arm down and relaxed - only the subtle rolling indicating just how badly he wanted to use it. 

"Put your stick away, boy," Lucius drawled pleasantly. "If you raise a wand to me, I'll leave you dead on this floor," he promised, his words flat and final. Lucius's face twitched sideways into a small smirk. "I doubt your parents would care enough to even put up a token lament," he added coolly, "not over some disinherited brat they can't even be bothered to do away with properly.

"I wouldn't be surprised if they thanked me, in fact, for sparing them the trouble of washing their hands of you themselves. I wonder why they haven't done so already," Lucius continued lightly, his tone as conversational as his gaze was threatening. "Does keeping you around keep you quiet, maybe? Is pretending they still hold some small scrap of affection for you the best way to keep whatever scandal you carry quiet?" His genteel voice twisted in a sneer as he added, "Or are they just cowards like you--hiding behind a pathetic pouting witch before you'll draw a wand--and they haven't the guts to disown a boy properly?"

Lucius treated Zachariah to one last bright, blistering smile, then dropped his eyes slowly to the witch in front of him again. "As for you, my darling Narcissa," he said, his voice dragging languidly, "I'll say what I please about Andromeda. There's nothing but truth in my words, so if you want to object to them, object to your sister--she's earned what I say. Everyone knows what kind of filth she's chosen to go around with.

"She's an idiot for doing it," Lucius added coldly. "It may well dissuade the Carrows as she hopes, granted, but there are better ways to get out of an unwanted marriage--ways that won't leave a girl tainted from rolling in the filth. Ways," he hissed, leaning in close to the dainty blonde witch, "that won't end with her own sister leaving her corpse at the Dark Lord's feet as a token of her esteem." Lucius did not so much as flinch at presenting that cruel picture of fratricide to Narcissa Black, his lips curled in a faint smirk, as though he looked forward to the prospect.

"And as far as your pretty little stories go," Lucius went on, his eyes flashing and his features hard and cold as he loomed over the girl in front of him, "you can keep them tucked up in the pages of your useless storybooks. 'Crown jewel'?" he scoffed. "Not likely, my dear, not once you've revealed your true colors to be so tarnished. Say what you like, spin your tales, it doesn't change the truth. You're the two-timing slattern here, Narcissa, not me. You want to go behind my back with some feckless idiot? Fine, enjoy yourself grubbing around in the mud, it seems to run in the family--no wonder poor Bella is so high-strung all the time, with sisters like that. I, on the other hand, choose to be no longer tied to you in any way, so I don't care what you do."

He shrugged, as though severing his relationship with Narcissa did not pain him in the least, his sharp eyebrows twitching dismissively, and Lucius finished by saying, "I have no interest in anything that isn't perfect and you, my dear, have proved to be disappointingly so much less than that."

Her mouth opened in surprise at his comment likening her behavior now to his, but Narcissa snapped her jaw shut immediately. Did he think they still held some connection, some vague promise to each other? That they were still together? She would have laughed if she wasn’t so furious. This was ridiculous, even from Lucius.

She would have responded to tell him that they were decidedly not together anymore and she was free to date whomever she wanted, and so was he for that matter, but he moved on before she could get a word in. And what he said was such a cutting blow that Narcissa found herself blinking rapidly, fighting against the sudden hot prickling in the backs of her eyes.

For a moment, rage and hurt blended into a terrible cocktail and her head was pounding so painfully her ears started ringing and her peripheral vision was black. Narcissa felt like throwing up and screaming at the same time, and she wanted nothing more than the wipe Lucius off the face of the earth in that moment, for daring to insult her sister (she did not care what he said about her, but Andromeda was off limits).

Her anger was too great, so the tears never escaped her eyes, pooling instead at the edge of spilling over and blurring blue and black and bloodshot red and white, Narcissa wanting to let them flow but incapable of letting go. She was shaking with rage at this point, staring at Lucius with eyes that couldn’t see straight anymore and her jaw was so clenched she was afraid her teeth would crack.

If she hadn’t learned to control herself already, Narcissa would have sprung at him and hexed him to oblivion, or at least the Hospital Wing. She considered it, her wand arm jerking toward her sleeve but stopping before she could draw her wand out. He didn’t deserve for her to hex him. He didn’t deserve anything from her anymore.

“How dare you,” she said, voice low and trembling with warning, as dangerous and dark as a dragon’s breath just before it breathes fire. She couldn’t even decide what to say—order him to leave, threaten him, demand an apology, tell him that he had as good as ruined his chance at ever earning her respect again? If he thought he deserved her now, he was more wrong than he had been before he walked into the room minutes before.

Zachariah’s jaw clenched at the snide comment about Narcissa’s sister. It wasn’t really hard to guess which sister he was speaking about. The comment made him drop his arm from Narcissa - provided it wasn’t held and straighten his back. His hand would shift how it was laying against his pocket so that he was in easier reach of his wand if need be.

It was one thing for Lucius to degrade him - he was used to it and honestly deserved it. But to attack the integrity of not just one of the Black ladies but two? That was too far. Andromeda was simply confused and Narcissa? Well, she was a cut above even this sniveling excuse of a wizard. 

There was nothing left to Zach’s trademark smirk, his easy stance or even the light air he always had around him. All the warmth the boy carried was gone, leeched out and replacing him with the deadly calm. The eyes pinning Lucius were nothing but cold calculation and not an ounce of fear or anger. It was the same look he’d given Katherine when he’d tried to ‘convince’ her of the error of her ways. The same look his father used on him when he toed the line too much. It was merely a glimpse of the cold man he could become. 

“I would suggest you follow the Lady’s advice and leave before you disgrace yourself further, Malfoy.” His words were clipped short and full of disdain for the older male - a tone he would never have taken considering their difference in social standards. “Unless, of course, you wish to further destroy any excuse for a relationship you have left?”

Lucius glanced back at Narcissa, his smile mockingly sweet. "Did he mention that, my dear? Did Scarborough tell you that he's been all but kicked out of his shabby little money-grubbing family? Did he explain how he's obviously only courting your favor in order to win himself some of the regard he can't earn through his paltry, unimpressive family name?"

The blond wizard folded his arms, now radiating smugness despite the sour twist to his smirk and the bitterness lurking in the dark depths of his pale grey eyes. "What did you do, Scarborough?" Lucius asked lightly, his eyes still fixed on Narcissa, watching for her reaction. "Did you gamble away what little fortune your family had? Maybe you were caught flirting with something muddy...or maybe you're muddy yourself. Is that it, Scarborough? Is your blood thick with mud?" He grinned at the boy, then looked back almost immediately at Narcissa, as if he could not keep his eyes off of her.

Lucius shook his head, false-pity thick on his pointed features. "What a scandal that would be," he mused, "for two Black sisters to be muddying themselves at the same time...still, I suppose family must stick together, musn't it? Especially when it's been coated in filthy, sticky mud..."

She let out a cry of pain as his grip suddenly tightened exponentially, and she swore she could already feel the bruises forming. She clenched her eyes shut, tears prickling the corners. She flinched when his nose brushed against hers, letting out a whimper. He was too close.

He found only honest fear, and pain.

"It had best be all," Lucius said, his snarled words one long lash of a whisper, like a whip--or a snake. "Or I will make you suffer until you regret it with every single drop of blood in your body which, by the time I am done with you, will not be many."

Abruptly, Lucius tore his hand from the witch, spun on his heel in a flurry of dark robes, and stormed away down the hall. His bootheels rang out like plague gongs across the flagstone floor, the hem of his black robes dragging behind him like shadows. Rage brimmed within the pale wizard, tightening his eyes and drawing his elegant fingers into clawing fists.

She flinched as he spoke, trying to pull away from his grip. She wanted to run, but she couldn’t, as he was still gripping her pretty tightly. She felt her breath hitch in her throat when he pulled up on her face, now nearly nose-to-nose with the tall Slytherin. She swallowed dryly, flinching again when he spoke.

She wanted to yell at him, tell him how he was a bastard and how he really didn’t deserve Narcissa—even after everything that he had said, she just wanted to fight back. But she couldn’t do it. Fear had sunk in, and now, she could barely even move.

Then he blinked, and his eyes flared like smooth ice catching a sudden sun-beam, and his lip curled back from his teeth in a furious sneer, and his fingers clenched tight around her jaw, gripping hard enough to surely leave bruises behind. He didn't care anymore if he snapped her in two--or more.

Lucius leaned in even closer to the girl, his eyes fixed on hers, his pointed nose actually brushing against Fortescue's for a moment. His breath was hot on her face, but everything else about him was cold, even his anger, burning like frostbite. Lucius did not even realize that his free hand hand slipped into the pocket of his robe and closed, vice-like, around his wand.

When Lucius spoke, his words emerged as sharp, solitary snarls, each one grinding out between his teeth as a lonely sentence unto itself.

He shook his head. "I can't even dignify your mother's insanity with a response," he said, horror dripping from every syllable. Lucius shuddered delicately; he could imagine few more revolting fates in life than being consigned to live out one's days among Muggle barbarians. "Surely your father will step in and see that you're spared that, I would think! Even if the man is fool enough to pollute his blood, he has to have that much sense, at least."

Lucius shuddered again, actually nauseated at the prospect she presented. Marie Fay might be only a half-blood, but she was still a Montgomery witch, and there were standards that must be maintained under even those circumstances--standards that did not involve living with Muggles.

He raised his hands, as if blocking a blow or possibly surrendering--it was hard to say which mood Lucius was more in, with his thoughts still roiling in shock and horror at the girl's words. "I can't even process that nonsense," he muttered, shaking his head as if to clear it of the idea.

"But I'll have you know," Lucius went on primly, some of the customary drawl seeping back into his words, "not only did my father expect a blond, he was delighted to see the Malfoy bloodline remain strong, thank you very much." He smirked a bit, teasing as much to restore his own mental equilibrium as to bolster the witch's spirits. "I can't imagine why anyone would want a raven-haired child, let alone Abraxas Malfoy, no matter how much of an idiot my father otherwise is.

"And as far as breeding goes," Lucius went on, serious again, "my dear girl, don't be daft; of course it's like we're some kind of prized cattle. Almost exactly like that, really, except that we're infinitely superior to cows, of course. That doesn't mean we can't be bred in similar fashion, though." Lucius shrugged, not at all bothered by the idea. "That's the whole point, isn't it?" He smiled gently, not wanting to upset her.

"I suppose you can't be blamed for not understanding," Lucius told her kindly, "that must be your own blood talking...but please, try and wrap your head around it, my dear: the wizarding world endures because we endure--the great families that made this country, this magic. That doesn't come about by happenstance," he explained. "That takes breeding, careful breeding--breeding which your father apparently takes lightly, but which the rest of us understand the dire importance of. But don't worry, like I said, there are plenty of respectable half-bloods around, these days. Your prospects are hardly limited at all."

Narcissa’s expression hardened, too, into ice-cold flinty eyes and a face made of stone, like real porcelain. “What are you doing, darling?” she shot back, words dripping with pointed sarcasm. Disgusted sarcasm.

She jutted her pointed chin out at Lucius and tapped her fingers on Zach’s sleeve. “I’m minding my own business. You should take a hint. And put your arms down, you look ridiculous,” she snapped, beyond irritated at him now.

The hurt note to his voice evoked no sympathy from Narcissa—whatever he tried, whatever he felt, she felt nothing in return. Not with the selfish way he acted. He acted like he owned her, ignoring her free will and expecting her to act as he wanted her to. Like he was now. Brushing Zach off like a pest and addressing only her, as if she was a misguided little duckling who just needed to jump back into his arms to see the light.

The Ravenclaw shifted how he was standing with Narcissa - not quite moving away, but also shifting a little out of the path between the two. Not to back off, but he wasn’t going to shove himself between the two and piss both of them off, thanks. Besides. Narcissa was a big girl. She could handle herself just fine! And if she couldn’t… Well. He could step in if need be. 

All the same, he still kept an arm around her, his thumb brushing against her back as she talked. Zach turned his gaze to the blond in his arms, watching her curiously as she turned from a warm girl to a woman of steel and ice. Narcissa really was a woman of worth. Far more than he could ever deserve. He refrained from reaching out to toy with her hair again and instead looked back to the soured peacock. 

How similar their families must be. All so spoiled and spite coated in civility. It was strange to see Lucius not as refined as he normally appeared. He supposed it was much like his own family - all posturing. You never showed weakness. And if you had to? You exploited it before anyone else could. 

The smirk faded as he watched Lucius, studying for more fractures in his facade. He shifted to slip a hand to his pocket casually, though didn’t dip it in, just hooked a thumb inside it as he waited for some sort of response. 

This was their quarrel, not his. He was merely a pawn to get a desired result. And if all things went well? Lucius would realize his mistakes and atone for them properly rather than with senseless trinkets and gifts. Then, maybe, if Malfoy played his cards right and provided the right amount of simpering he’d get his girl back. 

He glared at Narcissa, his grey eyes burning with betrayal and anger. "I don't need a hint," Lucius snarled back at her. "There's only ever been one thing you were clear about in this entire escapade, and that's your opinion of this sort of low behavior. At least I have the excuse of ignorance. What's yours?" he demanded cuttingly. "Or did you just get tired of the moral high ground? I hope you enjoyed it while you had it, darling."

Lucius took another step forward, his taunt muscles simmering with rage. Grey eyes flicked sideways toward the loathsome wizard who dared to run his hands over Lucius's precious Narcissa, and Lucius restrained another jerky grab toward his wand. He crossed his arms instead, to hold himself back from murdering Scarborough then and there, and promised himself eventual revenge.

His touch grew firmer, his advances bolder, and Narcissa smiled up at him like a cat toying with its prey.

She didn’t answer, just leaned in to kiss him again—this time she would take charge a bit more—and was interrupted by a slam and bitter voice.

Narcissa looked around, mildly irritated. When she saw Lucius, though, looking thunderous and yet somehow liked a pouting toddler denied dessert, her eyebrows angled sharply downward and her mouth along with them.

“What you’ve done,” she answered coldly, not bothering to remove herself from Zach’s arms (and keeping one hand on his arm, so he couldn’t escape, either), “is barge in uninvited, deciding your presence was necessary despite all evidence to the contrary.”

“It is quite rude to interrupt,” he chided once Narcissa finished, not planning on moving from her just because he was there. “Really now, I thought someone of your caliber would have a better grasp on social graces.” The comment was as easy and friendly as silk - despite the biting insult. 

“In any case, I really don’t see how this is any of your concern, considering your marvelous display of mistreatment of Narcissa earlier,” he mused, keeping his tone light and conversational to counteract Lucius’s dangerous tone. Despite this, his words were carefully picked to both compliment and insult the other and give just enough to chip away at the older boy. He wanted Lucius to think about what he was saying. Sure, it more than likely wouldn’t be until later, but the words would stew on a back burner to hopefully snap Lucius to his senses. 

The sight of her in another wizard's arms made Lucius's cold blood boil. That was why he held his hands out to her: it removed some of the temptation to reach for his wand and solve the problem by simply murdering the idiot boy where he stood. Lucius wouldn't have hesitated to cast the curse, were it not for the fact that some cool part of his brain was still working underneath the hurt and the anger, and it reminded him that Narcissa did not approve of hexing. He had a feeling that the Unforgiveables would not be immune to her displeasure, and so he kept his hands empty, but the thought of his wand burned like white fire in the back of his mind, and in the velvet pocket in which it lay. All Lucius needed to reach for it was the faintest of excuses; if Scarborough so much as twitched, he would be met with spellwork of the darkest sort before he could even draw, and Lucius would step right over his warm corpse without regret to sweep Narcissa back into his arms, where she belonged.

She had never seen Lucius like this. Sure, she had seen him angry that night on the grounds, but nothing like this. The look on his face made her blood run cold, and she clenched her eyes shut, whimpering softly as she felt his grip on her chin tighten. She opened her eyes when he spoke, taking in what he had said.

“Wh-Who do you think helped her into the infirmary?” she asked rhetorically, her voice wavering. She tried to hold his gaze, but it was hard when she was afraid of what Lucius might do if she angered him even more. Her mind kept wandering back to the thought of how easy it would be for Lucius to simply move his hand downwards a few inches and wrap his fingers around her throat, and she wouldn’t be able to stop him—her wand long forgotten.

Furthermore, if his father was written to about such an incident, Abraxas would be insufferable; he always was, when Lucius was caught doing anything by hand that he could have used magic for, instead. The cautionary thought, and the nauseating desire to foil all the old man's pleasures, flickered through the back of Lucius's mind in only an instant; it took far longer to loosen his fingers enough to stop her delicate bones from creaking.

It took nearly as much effort to unclench his own jaw enough to speak, and when he did, his words emerged in a flat growl: "I didn't leave her there," he sneered, "I got her out of there before she could be seen. That was all she would let me do, was take the blame and send her away. And I will not hear opinions from you about what I do or do not deserve, you idiot blood-traitor. You know nothing. Not about blood, not about magic, not about life, and certainly not about myself or Narcissa Black."

As the hesitation following dragged on, Lucius debated breaking the silence, but ultimately decided that if he let the girl fret, she would doubtless fret herself right into confessing the truth, so he kept his mouth shut and calmly studied her while she thought and fidgeted. The path her ideas traveled seemed to be an unpleasant one, judging by the frown on her pretty face, so Lucius wasn't surprised when she finally burst out with a torrent of words starting with a curse, but he was surprised by the confession itself.

Lucius's eyebrows crawled upward across his pale forehead as she spoke. When she finished, he stood for a moment, just blinking. So Brice Montgomery's sister was a half-blood, was she? That actually explained a fair amount, now Lucius thought about it, although of course he never would have suspected the Montgomery's of being victim to anything to shameful...

He shrugged when she braced herself for an attack. "Why should I hurt you?" he asked, his voice drawling languidly with amusement. "I'm sure you didn't ask to have tainted blood, and it's not as if you're some filthy, thieving Mudblood bastard, is it?" Lucius's voice remained light and casual, even as the words dripped with vulgar hatred. "So you're only a half-blood," he continued, spreading his hands wide in a graceful gesture of unconcern, "all right.

"It's a shame, of course," Lucius went on, nodding sympathetically, "but there are worse things one could be. At least your father's side of the family is good, so there's no reason you can't still make something impressive of yourself--you'll just have to try a little harder, and settle for a little less. There are plenty of useful, respectable witches and wizards out there whose family trees leave something to be desired," he said, thinking of the Abbotts and the Ollivanders and the Boneses, and even grumpy but brilliant little Severus.

"Obviously I can understand why Brice would be ashamed to admit such a thing of his own sister--and you understand as well, so you're no blood-traitor, whatever your own parentage may lack," Lucius said, assuming from very little evidence that Marie Fay naturally shared his prejudices in the presumptive manner of the truly arrogant, "but that's no reason for me to be cross with you. It's not my blood-line, and I'm not the one who's going to have to try and find a suitable husband for a half-blooded sister--not that that should be hard to do, these days," he added sourly. "There are plenty of fallen families out there who would be grateful for some of the Montgomery blood and fortunes, even if yours is a bit diluted."

She stared at him, growing angrier and angrier with each passing moment. Letting her arms drop again, her glare intensified. “You’re despicable,” she said, not even caring if Lucius couldn’t hear her over the sound of his own laughter. “You’re selfish, cocky, and downright cruel.” She paused, narrowing her eyes at him as she turned to leave, glancing at him over her shoulder. Her voice was quiet when she spoke again. “Narcissa was right to break up with you.”

But then she said Narcissa.

The amusement dropped off of Lucius's pointed face so quickly it might well have Apparated away, Hogwarts-wards or no. Although she had not laid a hand on him this time, Lucius now looked like he had been slapped, unlike before when he had laughed too hard for the pain to matter. He jerked back on his heels, rocked as if by an actual blow, which gave Fortescue time to turn away from him before he reacted--but not enough time.

It only took the tall, lanky wizard three sharp strides to catch up with little Alice Fortescue. He grabbed her arm and yanked, spinning her around hard to face him. Before Fortescue could so much as blink, Lucius's hand shot out, quick as a striking snake, and his fingers fastened iron-tight around the girl's dainty chin. Lucius jerked her head up, pulling Fortescue nearly onto her toes while at the same time stooping down over the short witch, bringing his face to within a scant handful of inches from her own.

Lucius's pale face was twisted into a snarl, lips curled back over sharp white teeth and grey eyes bright and burning. A lock of ash-blond hair had slipped down over his forehead from his sudden, jerky movements, and for once Lucius did not care enough to fix it. The faint red mark from Fortescue's hand stuck out sharply against his bone-white skin, a smudge of fire amidst the snowy pallor of his cheeks. His whole frame had gone hard and rigid as stone, and the fingers that held Fortescue in place might as well have been carved from rock, slowly grinding tighter against her jaw bone.

Lucius blinked at her, the cold expression almost reptilian. "I suppose I've just never really seen the point of younger siblings," he drawled, his tone cruel in its casualness. After all, sixth year or fifth, Marie Fay was still younger than Lucius's dorm-mate Brice, which meant that he was talking about her, however obliquely.

"However," Lucius added languidly, speaking again before the nervous girl could argue his point, "it still doesn't sound to me like you're being completely honest. That nonsense you just spouted about siblings was very good, yes, and frankly I've seen enough behavior like that from Roddy and Rabs to know it's an accurate assessment--but. As you yourself just acknowledged, my dear sixth year eagle, I am quite observant...and I observe that you are lying to me."

Before she could think better of it, she brought her hand up and slapped Lucius, the sound echoing through the hallway. “Will you stop?” She hissed, glaring up at him. “You have no right to talk about him like that, and I’m not going to stand here and listen to you insult the boy I love. So leave me alone.”

Then he doubled over, laughing.

This was no forced, polite chuckle, but rather a good, honest, hearty guffaw. Lucius's voice was normally light and almost lilting, his cultured drawl charming and seductive with just enough scorn to give it some bite, and his laughter was no different. The melodic tones echoed down the stone corridor, doubling back to the stooping wizard. He braced his hands on his knees as his shoulders shook with the amusement. Lucius could barely wrap his head around the absurdity of what had just happened.

Had little Alice Fortescue actually just slapped him?

He glanced up through his lashes, being still hunched half-double, and saw the angry witch's retreating back stalking down the hallway. Yes, Lucius decided, little Alice Fortescue had just slapped him.

He laughed harder, tears glimmering in the corner of his eyes.