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The nursemaids’ laughter jingled like bells from the corner of the playroom, paying no mind to the goings on of children when there was egg nog to sip and gossip to dish.
That suited Lucius just fine, for as a lad of ten, he had little patience to be scolded like a lamb. As for the rest of the flock, with their nursemaids too drunk to herd them, the bolder ones had cast off their wool to gleefully stalk the frightened lambs. The wolves had tried their luck with Lucius, but a glint of his teeth had sent them scurrying for softer prey.
Wolves of a different sort roamed the Christmas party downstairs: Older, with immaculately groomed fur hiding the gleam in their eyes. He stayed far away from his father’s hunting grounds—he had enough of being toyed with during the dinner parties he was forced to endure. It was far more amusing to observe his delusional peers sauntering about as if they wouldn’t quail the moment they were dragged before Him to pay their respects. Lucius had met Him many times—no pathetic child could ever compare to the terror inspired by His Majestic Presence.
Thus, Lucius watched the lambs. All the children had received heaps of gifts earlier that evening, wrapped in glittering ribbons and stacked to the ceiling. The most enticing toys had been snatched from little hands and batted about until their springs came loose and stuffing spilled out, then the roaming wolves would move on to the next toy. Young children were fleeing behind the drapery, hiding underneath the furnishings, folding themselves inside the cupboards, to guard their precious gifts from being stolen. Wails of despair were silenced by drunken nursemaids cross at having their gossip interrupted.
The spectacle was entertaining. Lucius considered snatching a toy for himself, for the wooden chess set he’d received was rather boring, but he’d grown distracted observing one little lamb in the corner: a girl with golden ringlets gathered in a bow.
The bow had been knocked askew, and her pretty ringlets were tangled in a mess. The wolves had not been kind to Narcissa Black. She huddled on the tattered remains of wrapping paper left underneath the Christmas tree, which towered in the middle of the playroom. Her knees were clutched to her chest.
The sight was far more enticing to Lucius than any toy, for with her knees drawn up, he could see her knickers peeking out from her dress. They were ivory white and lined with ruffles.
He had asked around, but no lad seemed to know for certain what hid underneath a girl’s knickers. The closest he’d come was last year, when he’d accidentally burst upon his mother in the loo. She’d slapped him out of the room until his ears rang, none the wiser to the secrets of the fairer sex. Goyle seemed to think they transformed into werewolves each month, with a thirst for blood and fur bristling from their knickers. Lucius had inquired with his father on the accuracy of that theory, but only received a roaring laugh for his troubles. So it was with great interest he drank in the fortunate positioning of the girl huddled underneath the tree.
Narcissa had been gifted a doll of some sort—blonde, or maybe brunette, wearing a Christmas dress. He strained to remember the specifics. There were a few dolls floating about the playroom, some in a worse state than others. He abandoned the armchair he’d claimed for himself and ambled towards the girl in the ruffled knickers.
“Which dolly is yours?” he asked pleasantly.
Narcissa started, which rustled the pine needles overhead. Her eyes grew wide at the appearance of an older boy. Perhaps she feared he meant to torment her, but when he only stood there, waiting, she finally answered him.
“… the one in the red dress.”
Lucius glanced over his shoulder at the pack of wolves. They were tearing apart an enchanted train set, a stuffed hippogryph that yelped with every yank of its tail, and—yes, a battered doll in a red dress.
A grin stretched across his face.
He turned his back on the girl and meandered towards the massacre, kicking aside stray cogs and broken limbs. He halted in front of the Carrow twins, who had tied the doll to the train tracks and seemed frustrated that Flint was too distracted with colourful steam spewing from the engine to run the doll over.
“Give me the doll back, if you please.”
Alecto eyed him. “It’s not yours.”
“Nonetheless.”
“Fuck off, Malfoy,” scoffed her brother, Amycus.
Lucius bared his teeth.
A short scuffle later, Lucius sauntered back to the tree. His cheekbone throbbed, his fists twitched, his throat ached from being strangled with his bowtie, but all told he’d made out quite well. He’d managed to kick Amycus in the chestnuts, which had sent Flint howling with laughter and caught the attention of a nursemaid, who’d snapped at them to settle down before returning to her egg nog.
Lucius presented his spoils to the girl in the ruffled knickers.
Narcissa’s mouth dropped open. She leapt up from the tree and swept the battered doll to her chest. Her fingers set about straightening the little bow that was more askew than her own.
“Thank you, Lucius,” she gasped. “Thank you so much.”
Lucius frowned. Her dress had fallen back to her knees once she’d stood up, hiding her knickers from view.
“Let’s go somewhere quieter,” he said.
“But … we’re not to leave the playroom.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the drunken nursemaids. “No one will notice.”
She gazed at him fretfully, but he hadn’t survived strangulation to admire the rosettes on her dress, so he took her by the elbow and coaxed her to the door. He cracked it open just wide enough for them to slip through, but she hesitated in the doorway. Before they could be discovered, he shoved her forward, and she stumbled into the hall.
“Lucius!” she hissed.
“Do you want your dolly stolen again?”
“… no.”
“Then let’s go.”
“Where?”
Wherever they could find some blasted privacy. He had little wish for his ears to be boxed if an adult interrupted him before he could uncover the secret beneath a girl’s knickers.
“Here.” He dragged her to the closest door.
“But this is a maid’s room,” she whispered.
“They’re busy downstairs.” He ushered her in and swiftly closed the door. “Go on, make yourself comfortable."
As there was only one place to get comfortable in the cramped room, and that was the maid’s bed, he was confident in the brilliance of his plan.
Narcissa approached the bed. After a glance back at the door, she primly sat down on the plain blanket and hugged her doll to her chest.
Lucius, who had hoped she might lie back and draw her knees up again, was greatly disappointed. No matter, he would try a different approach.
“So, then, what’s your doll’s name?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“She has a nice dress.”
“Thank you.”
Narcissa brushed a wrinkle from the velvety red dress wrapped around her doll, whose knickers were prominently on display. They were even more ruffly than her own.
The doll’s glassy eyes taunted him. He narrowed his gaze.
“Amycus slugged me, but I prevailed,” he tried. “Seeing you lie back is reward enough for me.”
“Thank you.”
Still, she did not draw her knees up. Lucius resisted the urge to groan. Couldn’t a boy have a peek underneath a girl’s knickers without moving Hell and Earth to get it?
With his plan stymied by an oblivious girl fussing with her doll, he threw subtlety out the window. He’d earned his peek, and she was being maddeningly thick about it.
“Listen, Narcissa, I did save your dolly and got a black eye for my trouble, so could you lift your—”
And then the door opened.
❅
“… a fine, upstanding gentleman. Narcissa has trouble fitting in with the more ‘rambunctious’ children, but it seems I didn’t need to worry—she had a protector all along! What an exemplary young man you’ve raised, Abraxas.”
“Lucius is my pride and joy.”
His father’s fingers dug into his shoulder. Lucius held back his wince.
“It was no trouble, Mr. Black,” he mumbled.
After a maid had stumbled upon them, she had dragged them downstairs by the ear and shrieked for their parents. His father had stormed over with a thunderous expression on his face. Fortunately for the state of Lucius’ hide, Narcissa had sobbed out some drivel about a knight in shining armor rescuing her doll from bullies. As it was not the first time the twins had terrorised Mr. Black’s daughter, Lucius had been heaped with praise that did little to console his despair at losing a peek underneath those ruffled knickers.
“Come along, Narcissa. Best you sit with me the rest of the evening.”
Mr. Black took her by hand. Narcissa glanced one last time at Lucius before disappearing around the corner, still clutching her doll.
Left alone in the hall together, the heavy weight of his father’s gaze fell upon him. Lucius knew his father suspected something was afoot, but had no evidence to prove it.
“My son. Fighting off bullies.”
“What can I say? It was the right thing to do.”
His father stared at him. Lucius stared back.
“You nearly drowned the Crabbe boy last week.”
Well, Crabbe had been exceedingly annoying that day, whining about the snowballs Lucius was pelting him with. He’d thought a dip in the frozen pond might lighten him up.
“Thanks to your enlightening discipline, I saw the error of my ways.”
His father glared at him for one long, terrifying moment where Lucius was sure he was about to be whipped again, until he broke into a chuckle.
“So, you have your eye on Cygnus’ youngest, do you? I should have known it would take a pretty girl to find a trace of humanity in you.”
Lucius eyed his father. The chuckle had been unexpected.
“… she might be a little pretty,” he cautiously allowed.
“I’ll bet she is. Let me speak with Cygnus. A betrothal wouldn’t be out of the question if it will slow my greying hairs.”
Lucius considered that. If Narcissa was betrothed to him, surely he would eventually get a peek at her elusive knickers.
“… well, all right, then.”
His father chuckled again, then clapped him on the shoulder. Clapped! Not even a swat. A clap, like they were old friends.
His evening may have taken a bewildering turn, but there were worse girls he could find himself betrothed to. Narcissa was indeed pretty, and her knickers were exceedingly ruffled. Lucius decided he was pleased with his Christmas after all.