Chapter Text
Snape flooed to Malfoy Manor the day after Lucius’ funeral. A house elf brushed the non-existent soot off his clothes with a small brush and then ushered him through the halls and into the morning room where Narcissa was having breakfast.
Clothed in mourning, she was seated at the end of a long table, a tall window behind her, dramatically curtained. Her posture was immaculate as she ate her eggs with precision. There was an echoing quality to the room, every clink and sigh amplified. Refusing to even look at Severus, Narcissa sniffed and asked in tones impossible to decipher, “Have you come to check on the poor Widow Malfoy?”
He scoffed. “You are hardly poor,” he said, seating himself at the corner next to her.
“Are you being literal, Severus?” She put down her fork and turned to look at him.
“If it pleases you, Lady Malfoy,” he said smoothly.
There was a flicker of something - humor, perhaps - at the corner of her mouth. “Don’t think you can distract me - you’ve failed to answer the question,” she pressed.
He gave a short tug on his waistcoat and leaned forward attentively as he collected his thoughts. “Is there a particular reason why I shouldn’t check on you? I was Lucius’ friend and I am Draco’s godfather - “
“But not mine.”
Narcissa was in a strange humor today, though it wasn’t unexpected. Severus always did think quick on his feet however, so he recovered admirably.
“Were you in need of a godfather?” he asked. “Certainly I can extend my services to you, if you require it. Draco can acquit my performance on that score, I believe.”
There it was - that flicker again at the corner of her mouth. “I didn’t realize you were such a wit,” she said. “Perhaps you should have been the one to give the eulogy.” She returned to her eggs.
Silence reigned for several, long moments before Severus spoke again. “Are you well?” he asked.
Narcissa had always had impeccable manners. At this question, she dropped her fork with a clatter. Severus took it for the statement it was - he had overstepped. But he didn’t care and forged ahead.
“You and I are not as close - “
“Precisely,” she interrupted, throwing him a stern look. “We are not close.”
“Nevertheless, I would be failing my duty to - “
“Duty,” she enunciated primly, “is not a Slytherin trait.”
He hesitated. “No,” he agreed. “No, it is not. And yet - “
“No,” she forbade him with a cross look. He watched her stand up and walk to the room’s fireplace, turning her back to him. “I do not want company.”
He stood with a hint of impatience in his movements. “Can I get you anything - “
“You needn’t be so solicitous, Severus - you forget yourself. Remember, we have already established - I am not poor.” Narcissa occasionally enjoyed being literal and not literal at the same time.
‘And I am not to be pitied,’ went unsaid.
“What you are is stubborn,” he bit out, darkly.
She startled and turned around, looking at him with wide eyes as he crossed the room. He loomed into her space and she blinked at him, owlishly. He opened his mouth to deliver a stern lecture, and then softened. He took her hand and there was something of chivalry in the action.
“You are grieving,” he murmured.
Her alarmed look collapsed into a wry one. “I’m aware.”
“Grief does strange things to people.”
Decades of practicing good manners was the only thing that kept her from rolling her eyes at him. Instead, she lifted her chin proudly. “I’m aware of that, too.”
“I will visit twice a month.”
“I’m not a pet for you to check up on,” she snapped at him.
He chuckled and it softened his face charmingly. “If I were going to treat you like a pet, I would visit twice a day.”
“Do it,” she dared him, knowing he wouldn’t. “Everyone will think we’re carrying on an affair,” her voice lowered to a sarcastic grumble, “which is exactly what I need.”
Ignoring her mutterings, he merely said, “I shall see you in two weeks.” He made for the door.
“Get a haircut,” she snapped at him again. “That length isn’t doing you any favors.”
He left without deigning to respond.