The Malfoy Project

𝟕 - 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝

I'm back at Malfoy Manor again, this time in a different room.

Unlike the previous, this one is on the third floor and as large as three classrooms. Five shelves, each the length of two adults, line one side of the walls and on them, meticulously sorted in alphabetical order, are books. Books of all kinds - novels, biographies, journals, directories. Books on ancient laws and modern poetry, of prominent wizarding legends and obscure creatures that live in the Pacific Ocean, volumes of texts written in Welsh and Gaelic and Mandarin and Sanskrit. There are no Muggle books.

Today, Narcissa seems somewhat livelier, the metallic silverness in her blonde hair seems to shine more than usual. Would you like some tea and biscuits? Yes, tea would be lovely. She brings it on a tray, places the plates daintily on the table, arranging them around my recorder like a prayer circle or a mushroom fairy ring.

She brings the saucer up to her chest and takes a sip from the cup. Her lips are painted an elegant deep crimson; blue-toned and regal and completely unlike the bright vermillion hue of Rita's. "Ms Ainsley," she begins, and I'm quick to remind her to call me Gabriella.

"Gabriella," - my name sounds like silk on her tongue - "I would like to apologise if we seemed aloof last week. Lucius and I were... a little nervous, to say the least." She looks past my shoulders as if Mr Malfoy is standing there. "It's just we've not had many pleasant run-ins with the press, and we weren't very sure what to expect from you. I hope you can understand."

I resist the urge to interrupt her again. "Please, there's no need to apologise at all, Mrs Malfoy. My aunt used to work for Witches Weekly, so I know how nettlesome journalists can be. Now, being sort-of-one myself, I promise to do my best to make this process as comfortable for your family as possible."

She doesn't smile, but her eyes squint as if she is. "Yes, Lucius told me about your session with him. He said you were most attentive, didn't interrupt, just listened."

"Well, that's how I want it to be," I say. "It's your story, after all, and I would want you to tell it completely unabridged rather than framed a certain way. I know we tend to do that, ask calculated questions so your answers fit our narrative. But this isn't just going to be a spread in the daily. I believe the Prophet intends to publish this as a proper book. Besides, I wouldn't want to interrupt the tape."  

We both glance at the recorder. "It's German," she says. At my confused look, she points a finger, painted the same shade of red as her lips,  at the label on the lid. "The brand. Uher. It is a German word."

"You learned German?"

"My mother taught us when we were very young."

"Your mother was Druella Black, yes?"

"Yes, maiden name Rosier. And her mother taught her. Amongst other things." Narcissa tilts her jaw, and I notice her eyes are the exact same shade as the Nemophila my parents used to grow in our back garden. "What do you mean?"

"I was... very young. There were some things I didn't understand."

"What sort of things?"

"Blood purity," says Narcissa. "My sister, Andromeda, was more vocal about it. Against it. Look where that got her and her family." Her single breath of laughter is more frustrated than disappointed.

The room spins around me, whizzing on an axis and transforming into the Great Hall. Students, flesh torn and bones battered. Crying. Shouting and running. Ainsley! Fetch the bandages, fetch the Essence of Dittany. That's not enough, Ainsley! We need more bottles, ten more! The dead, laid out like little tin soldiers on the ground. Tonks and Lupin, fingernail to fingernail, a peaceful smile on their faces as if they had merely been sleeping in their own bed at home.

"Tonks died fighting," I say, a little defensively.

"She did," agrees Narcissa. "And I feel for my sister every day. I can't imagine what I would do if... if anything had happened to Draco."

"Were you very close with Mrs Tonks?"

Narcissa ponders this question carefully. "You could say so. But that was a very, very long time ago. And you can call her Andromeda, I believe she would prefer that."

"Andromeda." At the sound of that word, a wistfulness washes over Narcissa's face for a moment, and the corners of her mouth twitch. I take this cue, leaning forward and pushing the 'record' button.

"For the tape, this is Gabriella Ainsley for The Daily Prophet. I'm with Narcissa Malfoy, wife of Lucius Malfoy and mother of Draco Malfoy. Mrs Malfoy, what was it like growing up with your sisters, Andromeda and Bellatrix?"