The Perfect Year

The Perfect Year

Ring out the old, ring in the new;
A midnight wish to share with you

I
December 31st, 1999

The Princess Märtha glided slowly across the blackened ocean, seemingly the only vessel in the world, let alone on that stretch of the North Sea. Despite the bitter cold, however, her decks blazed with light, music and the tinkling of glasses. A fog of laughter and murmured, drink-mellowed conversation drifted out into the darkness all around her. Three days into her cruise around the Scandinavian coasts, her passengers had long forgotten the initial disappointment of having missed the proper season for the aurora borealis. Now, they spread themselves throughout her luxury suites, fine dining rooms, three ballrooms, and a few brave souls even made it out on deck to watch the stars.

One, however, kept to himself in the quieter part of the aft deck. A string of coloured fairy lights hung over him, swaying gently with the motion of the ship. He leaned on the bulwark railing with his arms folded and his gaze fixed on the reflections the lights cast on the waves. Once or twice he tugged at the sleeves of his tuxedo and frowned. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable; what irritated him more was that it was necessary to dress like all the others here. A few of the predatory widows on board had approached him, drawn by his slender build, stern yet handsome features and long blond hair, but all had met the same response; a quick excuse and a hasty retreat.

Lucius knew he should make more of an effort if he was to fit in, though the idea of keeping out of the Ministry’s sights by surrounding himself with muggles had seemed far better in theory than in practice. Having to dress and act like one of them was bad enough, but having so many of them so near…a few more days and he might hand himself over willingly. Another year or so in Azkaban could hardly be worse than another round of that ‘bingo’ thing they all raved about. Or one more rendition of that bloody ‘Millennium’ song.

Behind him, towards the bow-end of the deck and beyond the swimming pool (which had been covered over to prevent any adventurous revellers trying to jump in and defy the sub-zero temperatures), the glass doors leading into the largest ballroom opened and let the music swell for a second. Lucius glanced idly over his shoulder, long enough to see a couple of muggles bumbling out and then, moments later, a brief orange glow as they lit up cigarettes. He recognised the drawling voices as belonging to an elderly couple from Maryland, who usually sat at the table beside him at dinner and who insisted on talking to him throughout. With a sigh, therefore, he looked around for another spot where he could be undisturbed, but was too late. A party popper banged near his left ear and showered him in streamers, while the old man chuckled evilly to himself.

‘Teddy, stop it,’ chided the woman. ‘Leave the poor boy alone.’

Yes Teddy, thought Lucius, leave the boy alone before he forgets that he’s abstaining from using magic for a while…

‘I’m just playing, Doris,’ whined Teddy. ‘It’s New Year’s Eve. Another year and we’re not dead yet. That’s worth a little fun!’

‘Well, keep going and you won’t make another one,’ warned Doris, then she turned her attention to Lucius. ‘You’ll catch your death out here, son. I worry about you. Come inside and give your Aunt Doris a dance.’

Lucius raised an eyebrow and said nothing, though it took great effort. No magic he told himself for the thirteen-thousandth time. The Ministry could detect it and get suspicious.

‘Come on,’ Doris went on, slapping his arm. ‘I don’t much care for the modern rubbish that DJ’s playing in there, but if that’s all there is, you have to make do. My God, I’d be a hundred years old before I got onto the floor if I had to wait for this old jerk to ask me!’

‘I asked you,’ Teddy protested, ‘you wanted to talk to that Irish woman with the two gangsters.’

‘They’re her sons, Teddy, they’re not gangsters. You can’t say that anyway. It’s imflammable. Now come on, I’m going inside before I catch pneumonia.’

She looked to Lucius, waiting for an answer to her invitation.

‘I might join you in a moment,’ he said at last. After all, a ‘moment’ could be any length, couldn’t it?

‘Well all right, but don’t you stay out here and freeze. I don’t know what sort of a woman you’ve hooked up with, to leave you in such a state, but she’s not worth it.’

‘How d’you know it’s a woman?’ grumbled her husband as they tottered back to the ballroom, passing a waiter in a white jacket who was coming out on deck.

‘It’s always a woman,’ replied Doris. ‘I know. I am one.’

It was only when the relief that the old couple were finally gone died down that Lucius noticed the waiter and realised he was headed towards him.

‘Excuse me sir,’ he began, ‘but the lady asked me to bring you this.’ He handed over a single flute of champagne he’d been carrying on a silver tray. Lucius stared at it as if expecting it to transfigure into a seething basilisk.

‘What lady?’ he asked.

The waiter looked over his shoulder and nodded towards the ballroom doors. Following his gaze, Lucius glimpsed a small, slim woman in a long black dress, watching him through the glass. He frowned, trying to remember if he’d seen this muggle before, but then noticed her attire was not as strange as the other muggle women on board. In fact, the dress looked very similar to something he’d bought Narcissa, with much prompting, a few years before.

‘Did she give her name?’ he asked the waiter.

‘No sir, but she said to say to you…unnskyld, jeg forstår ikke…to say ‘are the muggles getting to you?’ But I do not…’

‘That’s quite all right,’ Lucius muttered and shouldered his way past. He saw his benefactor smile as he approached the ballroom doors and even imagined he recognised her a little.

Inside, the ballroom glittered, crystal chandeliers dangling from the luxuriously painted ceilings, sequins winking on the behinds of many a large muggle matriarch. They were playing another ballad, dripping with sentiment, or perhaps it was the same one as they’d had on the last time Lucius stepped inside. All that sort of music sounded the same to him anyway. Despite having told Draco off for playing the Weird Sisters’ singles over and over again, even that would have been a welcome change. At least when the music was more sedate, however, the muggles didn’t sing along.

As he approached the witch, he felt certain he knew her from somewhere and tried to remember the names of Narcissa’s plainer friends at Hogwarts. Was there one with dark hair? He sighed. They all had dark hair. Narcissa always liked to be different and far prettier than the rest of her crowd.

‘Shall I make it easy for you?’ she asked, breaking his chain of thought. She extended her hand and let him take it briefly. ‘Eleanor Lightwood. Now Lucius Malfoy, you surprise me. Don’t you remember the names of all your victims?’

‘Victims?’ His mind now raced. Ministry of Magic? Had they tracked him down despite all his precautions? Inwardly he cursed himself for being so stupid, for walking straight into this. Why wasn’t his guard up?

‘Third year, Hogwarts, trip to Hogsmeade,’ Eleanor continued. ‘You hexed the packed lunch I took with me, turned it into earwigs, which came scuttling out as soon as I opened the box and got everywhere.’

‘Eleanor Lightwood,’ Lucius muttered. ‘Wasn’t I getting you back for setting my hair on fire in Potions?’

‘So you said. All a lie. I was always a model student.’

‘Weren’t you expelled in third year?’

‘I didn’t say what I was modelled on.’ She shrugged. ‘They caught me…well let’s just say it involved me, a box of special recipe fireworks, a fire-crab, and Professor McGonagall’s office.’

‘So what happened?’

‘My parents bribed, seduced and blackmailed everyone on the Durmstrang board of governors until I got in there. Odd seeing you though. You know I was just thinking about you about a week ago. There was something in the Daily Prophet about You Know Who, sort of looking back on his defeat and what it means for the Dark Arts.’

‘And that made you think of me?’ asked Lucius, straightening slightly.

‘We do get the news out in the sticks, you know. I know you’ve been busy. Year-odd in Azkaban, on the Ministry’s Most Wanted list, one of the few of You Know Who’s followers still to be mopped up…’

‘And don’t tell me,’ Lucius sighed. ‘Having graduated with honours from Durmstrang, as I believe torturing fire-crabs is something they, unlike Hogwarts, actively encourage, you now work for the Ministry, or some international offshoot, and you travel around the world tracking down fugitives?’

Eleanor smiled and took another drink from a passing waiter. ‘Actually I tried to hold the German wizarding community to ransom for ten million galleons, or else my coven and I would blow up Berlin. Hate to say it, but the price on my head’s bigger than yours.’

‘Really.’

‘Really. Anyway, how do I know you’re not working for the Ministry? Made some deal with them to round up the world’s worst witches in exchange for amnesty?’

‘You said yourself, you’ve read the Daily Prophet.’

‘Which says whatever the Ministry tells it to say.’

‘Then,’ sighed Lucius, ‘you can either trust me or go away. The choice is yours.’

‘If you don’t mind, I think I’d rather face the wrath of the authorities than spend another hour alone with this lot.’ She threw a sweeping glance around the ballroom, at the swirling mass of bodies. ‘Honestly, I thought it best not to use magic in case they could detect it…’

‘Same here.’

‘…But really, it’s killing me. Well, don’t you just want to set fire to them or something? Perhaps not something fatal, but just to make them stop babbling and laughing, and doing that stupid dance…’

‘It is tempting,’ Lucius muttered with a smile. He happened to glance across the ballroom and saw Doris waving at him. ‘Sorely tempting.’

‘That one over there,’ Eleanor told him, tossing a glower at a slick-haired, heavily tanned man in his forties, seated near the DJ’s platform. ‘His name, apparently, is Roger, and he’s very big in paper clips or some other useless muggle thing. He’s followed me around ever since we left Bergen. You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was up for it.’

Lucius frowned. ‘Revolting thought.’

‘Tell me about it. I’ve always wondered how anyone could bring themselves to mate with muggles anyway…I mean, wouldn’t it be like sleeping with a dog? But if one has to do it, at least let the bloody muggle be attractive! I mean, look at this lot. Half them look ready to croak at any second, either from old age or wobbling themselves to death beneath layers of blubber.’

‘Please,’ Lucius said quietly.

‘I’m sorry. But can you blame me for breaking cover and wanting some real company for a change? Couldn’t believe it when I saw you. Oh, I didn’t expect you to recognise me. You never did pay much attention to me in school.’

‘You were in Hufflepuff.’

‘Oh, you remember that at least.’

‘Well, it is coming back to me. One does not easily forget the person who lands you in the infirmary for a week with second degree burns on the back of the skull…’

‘Exaggeration,’ sighed Eleanor. ‘I only singed you a little. And at any rate, I wouldn’t have had to if you’d actually looked at me now and again.’

‘Why would you want me to look at you?’

She blushed slightly and glanced away.

‘Oh come off it,’ Lucius told her. ‘I have no delusions as to my popularity at Hogwarts.’

‘Just because no one ever said anything to you. We were all too scared of you. And your father. Is he…?’

‘Dead. Dragonpox.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I’m not,’ said Lucius darkly. He paused for a moment and, despite having developed a loathing for the stuff, grabbed a drink from one of the tables laid out around the room. Muggle alcohol was better than no alcohol at all. ‘Anyway, you were afraid of me, so in order to become my friend and gain my affection, you set fire to me?’

‘I see setting fire to things as a sign of love. I only burn things that matter to me. I was very fond of that fire-crab.’

‘Your logic astounds me.’

‘Well, whatever the reason, whatever the thinking,’ said Eleanor, ‘I think you owe me a dance at the very least.’ She placed her hands on his shoulder and waist and smiled with great intent at him. ‘After all, you are dressed for it.’

‘This is purely camouflage.’

‘Yes, I expect we’ll blend right in,’ Eleanor laughed. Ignoring the others on the floor, she danced with him slowly, creeping closer, he noticed, as the screeching tune (which seemed only to consist of the phrase ‘Happy New Year’ repeated over and over, followed by some incomprehensible whining) progressed.

‘That article in the Prophet,’ Eleanor said suddenly. ‘It said your wife had applied for a divorce on grounds of desertion.’

‘And?’

‘Your wife. That blonde bitch from our year? Narcissa Black?’

‘What about her?’

‘I hated her.’

Lucius let out a dry laugh. ‘Every girl in our year hated her.’

‘Oh I see, that’s why you married her. Nothing but the best for the Malfoys?’

‘No,’ Lucius sighed. ‘I married her because she asked me to the graduation ball and did so without causing me bodily harm.’

After a while, the music’s tempo picked up a little and a few of the muggles started to clap and sing. Exchanging wary glances, Lucius and Eleanor slipped off the dance floor and headed towards the doors at the back of the room. Lucius quickened his pace even more when he glimpsed Doris through the crowd and saw her head towards him. With a great sense of relief, he closed the doors behind them and wandered along the narrow, carpeted corridor, which was decked in garlands of holly and fir, with gold-painted pine cones and the occasional sprig of tinsel.

‘You know,’ Eleanor began, ‘Roger the paper clip salesman was telling me, whether I wanted to hear or not, that the muggle world’s supposed to collapse as soon as it hits midnight tonight. Apparently there’s some insect, a Millennium Bug, that’ll kill everything. He said this ship’ll probably run into an iceberg because whatever’s steering it, the box thing they have to tell it where to go, won’t know where it is any more.’

‘So long as no one ever finds out I died onboard a muggle holiday ship, dressed like this and talking to a pyromaniac.’

Eleanor laced her arm around his and walked by his side. ‘I wondered if it wouldn’t be easier. I mean, have you thought what you’ll do after this?’

Lucius shrugged and held his head up proudly. ‘I shall do the same thing I’ve done since leaving England. Move around, stay low, either find somewhere I can set up anew or where I can wait until things calm down with the Ministry, and no, I shan’t tell you where I plan to go.’

‘And you think they will? Calm down, I mean?’

Lucius paused by one of the portholes and looked out, though everything outside remained in pitch darkness. ‘Last time Voldemort was defeated, most people were able to keep in the shadows. No one could either prove or disprove most people’s involvement, so all it took were a few well-placed donations and everything settled back into place. This time…After what happened, I think it will take a long time for people to forget. Besides which, one has to wonder if there is anything worth going back for.’

‘Family? I mean, after twenty-odd years of marriage, isn’t there anything back home?’

Lucius regarded her gravely for a moment, then sighed. ‘What use would that be? If Narcissa can recover something from this and make herself out to be the victim in it all, released at last from my tyrannical grasp, then good luck to her. Let her make her own life. She doesn’t need me back any more than I need her trailing after me begging me to come back, not that she would. And my son…well, wherever he is, I would imagine he’s better off without me drawing the Ministry’s eye to him. So, starting again seems the best option.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t recommend Berlin,’ laughed Eleanor. ‘They’re still a little prickly around there when it comes to the Dark Arts.’

‘I wonder why.’

‘I was thinking of going over to America,’ Eleanor mused. ‘They haven’t really had any crises yet, nothing to set them on their guard. And there are some little states, I’m told, that’d be fairly easy to get a hold over.’

‘Lots of forests too, I think,’ Lucius agreed. ‘Lots of inflammable material.’

‘Precisely. You ought to come with me.’

Lucius regarded her with a dubious expression. ‘And we’ll live happily ever after as Lord and Lady of Evil? Somehow I can’t see that working. If I were to seek power for myself it would be precisely that. For myself.’

‘True. But we could share. I’ll take the east, you take the west.’

‘Who gets Canada?’

Eleanor shrugged. ‘We can toss for it when we get there.’

Lucius laughed, shook his head, and continued to stare out the porthole. He felt Eleanor’s hand on his cheek a moment before she kissed him, yet she still caught him by surprise. For a while he just stood there and let her work her lips around his, until it occurred to him that, despite his lack of interest in the woman, he enjoyed the sudden warmth another person’s embrace brought him. All the same, as he drew back from her and studied her eyes for some idea as to her motives, a twinge of suspicion rippled down his spine, not for the first time that evening.

‘What was that for?’

‘What do you think?’ she whispered, caressing his face. ‘I mooned over you for something like five months, and now, when I’m stuck on this bloody boat in the middle of nowhere with no idea how I’m going to live from now on, there you are, just swanning around on deck.’

‘Yes, it does seem an awful coincidence. Why exactly did you choose this particular ship?’

‘I was told I had to do something special for the Millennium.’

‘Told by whom?’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, if you think I work for the Ministry, then go, run off. See if I care. I just thought…I just thought, ‘where’s the harm?’ When the ship docks the day after tomorrow you can head off and never look at me again if you like.’ She kissed him again, slipping her arms around his waist this time to draw him nearer. They separated quickly though as the ballroom doors opened and a couple of very elderly muggle women shuffled past, muttering something about ‘disgusting behaviour’. Eleanor took Lucius’ hand and led him along the corridor, giving encouraging looks all the way.

It was either go with her or go back to the muggles, Lucius thought, go back and dance with Doris.

Besides which, he had to admit his curiosity had been piqued. A stray thought had come from nowhere and then refused to go away. Whatever she was up to, he wouldn’t find out by letting her go.

II

She switched on the lights in the cramped cabin, with its beige, windowless walls, kitsch, framed prints and narrow bunk. The constant grumble from the ship’s engines was louder there, though when she ushered Lucius inside and closed the door, it did feel as if she had locked out the rest of the world. The ship’s radio, however, continued to play through a small, tinny speaker set into the wall beside the bunk, relaying the same songs they were playing at the New Year’s Eve party. Muggle technology not being her strong point, she hadn’t fathomed how to switch it off just yet, but it was quiet enough to ignore. Perhaps she ought to have told him that the anchor rattled up the hull right outside the cabin whenever they came to a port, but she figured he’d find that out soon enough.

Lucius still looked wary; not so much frightened or uncomfortable, but rather waiting for the inevitable nastiness to strike. He had the look of a man for whom any good fortune came with a substantial price.

She took his hands and rubbed a little warmth into them, then pressed her body close against his and kissed him deeply, grabbing handfuls of his hair, which spilled like cool silk between her fingers. Possibly the only softness in his being, she mused, and hugged him in an attempt to nudge some response out of him. As she stepped back to look at him, though, he remained implacable, still expecting her to throw a curse at him, or for a dozen aurors to burst out of the wardrobe perhaps.

‘Come on,’ she whispered. ‘Get out of those bloody stupid muggle clothes. You look like one of the Weasleys on a night out.’

‘That is uncalled-for.’

A flicker of emotion at last, she thought, even if it was irritation. Though as he peeled off the black jacket, (she had not the heart to tell him he suited those clothes), a fraction of a smile appeared on his lips. She kissed it in the fond hope that it would blossom into something more, and at the same time unlaced his bowtie and unbuttoned his shirt.

She ushered him to the bunk and sat down beside him there. With a quick pat on the shoulder, she whispered to him to lie on his stomach and felt his muscles tense right away. Perhaps he was nervous, underneath it all. She massaged his back and shoulders, urging him to relax in sighs and whispers, using a few tricks she knew would soften even someone determined not to succumb. Her favourite was to run her tongue gently along his spine, barely close enough for the touch to register, and from the way he smiled, he seemed to agree.

She then straightened and removed her own clothes, and noticed when she finished setting them aside and turned back to him that he had been watching her. He rolled over onto his back and swept his hair away from his face. She swallowed and hoped her spells and potions wouldn’t wear off more quickly now her heartbeat was racing. Then she crossed to him slowly, trailing and appreciative gaze over his body, and draped herself beside him. There was barely enough room for both of them on the narrow bunk, forcing them into each other’s arms, but she did not complain.

She doused the lights using the switch beside her bunk, then fumbled to prize off the last of his clothes, but winced as she felt the line of a scar across the small of his back. She quickly pushed any thoughts of his incarceration or the unknown hells he must have faced whilst on the run across Europe from her mind and kissed him even harder.

The music continued to waft through the dark. It’s New Year’s Eve and hopes are high; dance one year in, kiss one goodbye. Another chance, another start, so many dreams to tease the heart! Too sentimental for her taste, but all the same, as she held him and as they made love, she could not help but smile. It might be adultery, technically speaking, but at least she would be close to him, if only for a few moments.

The chimes sounded through the radio, but the cheers throughout the ship would have penetrated any bulkhead even if they hadn’t. The muggles counted gleefully down to midnight, then chanted out some sort of anthem as soon as the hour struck. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw Lucius lie back against the highly starched pillows, his hair pooled around him and a faint smile on his lips, though there was still a wrinkle of a frown on his brow. She leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead, then rose and headed to the tiny bathroom on the far side of the cabin.

‘If you are going to send for the Ministry,’ Lucius called to her, ‘then you would be better to do it tomorrow, when we’re closer to port. Give yourself time to get away, or at least lessen your chances of apparating into the middle of the sea.’

‘That’s a good idea,’ she replied, smiling, and closed the bathroom door. Blinking for a second as she turned on the light, she then startled herself when she looked in the mirror and saw someone else’s face there. She thought hard before reaching into the velvet bag she kept beside the sink for a silver bottle, and even harder before taking out the stopper. She could just go, let him disappear. But when everything was in turmoil, would it not make more sense to try and mend things if she was able?

Then the door opened behind her. She straightened and hid the bottle back inside the bag as Lucius, wrapped in the scratchy woollen blanket from the bunk, wandered into the doorway.

‘See,’ she said with a half hearted laugh. ‘No aurors.’

‘Why are you here, Narcissa?’ he asked.

She froze and stared at him, debating whether to formulate a lie for a moment, then she sighed and grabbed a towel from the rack to cover herself with. ‘How long have you known? You can’t say it’s something so insipid as knowing the way I kiss.’

‘Think what you like. Although is it not strange for someone who wasn’t sure who I married to know how long I’d been married? Anyway, why are you here? You have a deal going with them? Persuade me to come back and you get off?’ He bit his lip thoughtfully and smiled. ‘No. No, you have too much of a martyr complex for that. You persuade me to come back, hand me over and Draco is released. Is that it? Where do they have him, in Azkaban?’

‘Think what you like,’ she retorted.

‘Well, you can’t say it’s something so insipid as being in love with me.’

‘I haven’t made any sort of deal with the Ministry,’ Narcissa sighed. She retrieved the bottle and took a sip of polyjuice potion. ‘I don’t even know if the Ministry know what they’re doing any more. But a lot of time has passed, Lucius, and I’ve worked hard to try and salvage what I can. I followed all the rumours, all the speculation in the Daily Prophet as to where you could be. Then the other day, they printed some story about you being seen in Norway buying muggle clothes. It was so ridiculous, I had a feeling there could be something in it, so I followed you here. In the hope that you might consider coming back and if not, well to see that you were all right. However trite and sentimental that may sound to you, that’s the truth, Lucius.’

Lucius smiled mirthlessly and avoided her gaze. ‘Why Eleanor?’

‘Because all our other friends are either dead or in Azkaban,’ Narcissa replied, folding her arms. ‘By the way, I don’t know if she really did try to destroy Berlin. I made that up. Thought it would appeal to you.’

‘I can’t come back.’

Narcissa stepped forward and caressed his arm lightly. ‘I have spent the last year calling on the few people with influence who’ll still speak to me. Public opinion isn’t so harsh these days…’

‘Yes, I can just see Arthur Weasley and the like rushing to welcome me back…’

‘All I’m saying is the groundwork is there. With a little creativity, a few well-placed donations, as you put it…nothing is irreparable. It’s a new year. A new century, in fact. Even if we had to move, we could survive. And when have a few grumbles mattered to you? When have the opinions of…well, of anyone mattered to you?’

She made to squeeze past him, back into the cabin, but he stayed in the doorway and barred her way. ‘Why would you want me back? What possible use am I to you?’

‘Self pity doesn’t suit you.’

‘It isn’t self pity. Natural curiosity.’

Narcissa shook her head with a deep sigh, then kissed him and pushed him out of her way.

‘Come to bed,’ she told him. ‘I’m going to apparate back off this thing in the morning. If you don’t want to come with me…well then I wish you luck. Wherever you end up.’

She curled up beneath the sheet, facing the cabin wall and trying hard not to listen to his movements or to try and guess what he was doing, but at the same time she waited to feel him beside her again. The feeling grew more fervent with every passing second until, finally, she sat up and looked around the cabin. There came a brief flash of light as the door opened and closed again, then everything fell very quiet and she knew she was alone.

Worse still, when she next slipped into the bathroom to top up her potion, the bottle had gone.




Notes; song, ‘The Perfect Year’, lyrics by Don Black and Christopher Hampton, music by Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber