Bookshop Brawl

Disclaimer: Characters belong to JK Rowling, etc.

I'm re-reading CoS and couldn't resist writing the aftermath of the Arthur-Lucius brawl. I can't imagine Narcissa would have been best pleased, so I present to you "Bookshop Brawl":

Just before he opened the front door of Malfoy Manor, Lucius Malfoy rested his hand on the elaborate handle and turned to his twelve-year-old son, Draco. "Now remember, not a word to your mother –"

The door handle was wrenched out of his hand and flung open, revealing a blonde woman whose blue eyes were blazing. Lucius faltered and unconsciously raised a long, delicate finger to his developing black eye. He plastered a smile on his face, one that Draco for many years after swore was the most insincere smile he had ever seen. "Narcissa, dear, how lovely to see –"

"What. The hell. Were you THINKING?"

Draco winced at his mother's high-pitched shriek, as it had hurt his ears.

Lucius's smile wavered a little but he maintained it. "'Cissa, I don't know what you've heard –"

Narcissa fixed him with a stony look and turned to their son. "Draco, could you leave us for a little while? This is not something you need to be involved in."

Draco did not need telling twice; he scuttled off to his bedroom to start reading his new books. While he had no issue with conflict generally, he knew better than to linger when there was a spat between his parents.

Narcissa seized Lucius's upper arm and hauled him indoors, slamming the front door behind them. She checked to see whether Draco was out of the way – he was – and yanked the rest of Draco's books out of her husband's arm, depositing them on the hall table. Lucius's smile had fallen from his face. "My dear –"

"Don't you dare 'My dear' me, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy!" snapped Narcissa, slamming him up against the wall. She pulled her wand out from her pocket and held it under his chin; he swallowed nervously. "Explain yourself. Now."

Lucius offered her a pacifying smile and held up his hands. "I don't know what you've heard, my love, but I am sure it has been twisted."

Narcissa poked her wand into his chin. "That you got into a fight. A fist-fight. With Arthur Weasley, no less!"

"He started it –"

"And you just had to retaliate, is that it?" Jab.

"He started it! He pushed me into a bookcase!"

"I suppose the bookcase then grew hands and punched him in the mouth, did it? Hands that just so happened to look exactly like yours?" This time she poked his shoulder, red spots of anger burning in her pale cheeks now.

"You would rather I didn't defend myself?"

"Have you no shame? A common brawl, with a Weasley of all people! What are people going to think? A fine example to set your son, I don't think! Front page of tomorrow's Prophet, I expect!" She jabbed her wand into his stomach. "We are not children any more, Lucius! And you wonder why Draco gets into fights at school? Where do you think he's learned that?" Lucius's mouth opened and closed repeatedly like a fish, words failing him. "Well?"

Lucius attempted to sidle away, but found his route blocked by Narcissa's arm, her hand on the wall. "He came at me out of nowhere!"

"Because of course you wouldn't possibly have done anything to provoke him, would you? Would you?"

Lucius blinked rapidly. "Can I really help it if he takes offence at the slightest little thing?"

"Then that answers my question!" retorted Narcissa tartly.

"My eye hurts," Lucius informed her.

But Narcissa spotted his attempt to change the subject and snorted. "Whose fault is that?"

"Arthur Weasley's."

"Hah!" She shook her head and her blue eyes bore into his grey ones. "You cannot let things alone, can you?"

"My eye –"

"Will be perfectly fine in a few days. Perhaps you'll learn your lesson." She jabbed him once more with her wand, then spun on her heel and stalked off, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she did so.

Lucius remained against the wall for some time before he dared move, not sure what kind of hexes his wife might otherwise put on him. That had not gone as planned. "Damn you, Arthur Weasley," he muttered before heading to his study. He would give Narcissa some space and hopefully by dinnertime she would have calmed down.

He could hope.

~fin~