She looks out her window, seeing the frost settle over the lawn, and thinks about the vanishing green.
She has done this for the last seven months. Seven months of waiting. Seven months locked in her house with Magical Law Enforcement outside.
Of course, house arrest is probably one of the better things that could have happened to her, all things considered. Her crimes are far greater than anyone realized.
And so is her goodness.
Narcissa has often wondered which side she was really on, but it was clear what everyone else thought. They all put her with the Death Eaters, the villains, not considering who she is underneath that. Yes, she was a supporter. Yes, she is married to a Death Eater. Yes, she has done terrible things. But she has done good things as well. And all those terrible things, every crime she had committed, were done for her son’s protection. He is what she cares about.
He is the last of the vanishing green.
It’s been disappearing for a while now. Shrinking in the growing ice, all of it turning white.
All of it dying.
When she was young and innocent, Narcissa believed that the green showed nobility, honor, pride. Now she knows better. The nobility was only in her head. Honor was only a word. The pride was true enough, but it meant arrogance, belief that they were better than others. Better than the ones who knew was nobility and honor meant.
The waiting is killing her. Why has it taken seven months already? She knows that there are people being put on trial whose crimes are far worse, but still! Her trial has not been scheduled for another month, and she knows how it will end. No one will vouch for her good intentions. She led to the death of Dumbledore. She allowed the Dark Lord to use her house as a base. The only good she had done was save Harry Potter, and he surely wouldn’t testify for her.
Why did she have to wait here? The silence. The emptiness. Lucius had already been tried and sent back to Azkaban. Draco had escaped prosecution, since his only real crime was attempted murder under great duress. He has left, gone off to –find himself,†whatever that means. He has not written. Narcissa does not even know where her son is.
The son that she worked so hard to protect.
But now she is alone. Alone in a giant house with no one to share it with.
She can remember when the house was wonderful, a place full of people laughing and talking. She and Lucius used to hold elaborate parties all the time for their friends and people of influence. She, Narcissa Black Malfoy, had hosted everyone from the Minister of Magic down, and now she was a prisoner. Trapped in a house that once had glamor and respect. People used to fall all over themselves just to receive an invitation. Now she would beg for someone, anyone, to come and ease her waiting.
There is still a spot, a small circle of green in the garden.
The more Narcissa thinks about it, the more she realizes how much her world has fallen apart. Then again, she’s been thinking about it for the last seven months. What she’s seen. What happened during that battle…
No. Not that. She can’t think about that. That’s what’s making the wait seem so much worse.
Suddenly, she gets up. She’s tired of sitting by the window, watching her garden freeze. She marches up the stairs, with no conscious thought of where she’s going or what she’s going to do. She just needs to move.
Down a hallway on the third floor. Through that door. Yes. This is where she wants to be. In her wardrobe.
Here are all the robes she used to wear, the robes that showed the green. The nobility. No matter whose party it was, she was always the center of attention.
She takes down one set of robes, then another, remembering the parties she had worn them to. She had never worn the same one twice. She would have died if any of her friends though that she couldn’t afford new robes every time there was an event.
What friends? Where were they, those women who simpered and complimented her just so they could rise on the social ladder? Where were the men who sucked up to Lucius, cowered at his feet, just for a bit of his money and influence? Where were those friends, the ones she had competed with, laughed with, lorded over the world with? Why had none of them come to her?
She moves further back in the room, looking at older and older clothes, until she reaches the very first outfit she had bought as Mrs. Malfoy. She remembered that night well. The wine. The music. The lights…
The robes are bright green and shimmer like dragon’s scales, but they’re light, so light that she can barely feel them. She takes them down, off of the hanger. Without any conscious guidance, she pulls off her day robes and slips into these clothes, the clothes of a woman who had never born a son, the clothes of a woman who had never seen violence, the clothes of a woman who had not known the truth.
She was not noble. She was a child, a child who believed that the green still meant something.
A child who still had the green.
Narcissa is surprised to find that the robes still fit her. After all, she has twenty years and a child between her and that party.
But she can still hear their voices.
–My wife, Narcissa.â€
–A pleasure, Mrs. Malfoy.â€
–Do tell me where you got your robes.â€
–You look wonderful, Cissy.â€
–You must have tea with us!â€
But they’re gone. All of it is gone.
All she has left is a party dress.
She does not take it off. She walks back down the hall, back down the stairs, letting it trail behind her. She steps lightly, as she was taught to do, and she resumes her seat by the window and looks at the tiny circle in her garden.
And sees that the green has vanished completely.
Vanishing Green by armagod679
Story Notes:
The title was borrowed from a headline in the Sioux City Journal. I promise this story is not about the drought in Iowa.