Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Seriously.

A/N: Written for Challenge #246 ~ Crack at slashthedrabble.

A/N2: As always, if you enjoy this drabble, do let me know by REVIEWING. If you don't, please express why by means of constructive reviews – ergo, no trolling.

A/N3: I have recently received a few mean-spirited reviews. I understand anyone who post online does so at his or her own risk, but please, I don't think anyone deserves to be put down in any manner. I know I'm speaking from personal experiences, but I think I can safely say most everyone will share my sentiment. Yes, honest reviews are most definitely encouraged, but it's different when they are not so much honest as they are plain rude and non-constructive. I must admit, those reviews were the reason behind my recent lack of updates. I guess it made me realise just how fragile my – and the muse's – ego really was, but hey, if he or she were singing my praises, I wouldn't be making so much fuss, would I?


I recall the long silences of our time together, the slow smiles, the lazy touches, the sweet words and that heavy, almost cloying scent unique to summer hanging in the air. I retain the warmth of her tears, the heat of her kisses and the gentle, steady (overwhelming and yet never quite enough) burn of her fingers on, inside, all over me. I remember the vividness of her eyes, the vibrancy in the strands of her hair, the curves and planes of her body, the intensity, honesty and vulnerability of the moment she came undone in my arms.

"It is time," my mother declares.

I smile with no genuine mirth as I slowly stand.

"I love you," Lily whispered, her fingers trembling slightly as she traced Narcissa's face.

"You shouldn't," Narcissa replied, her voice cracking.

"But I do."

"Lily, I love you."

Lily smiled – maybe sadly, maybe not.

"Forever."

"Forever."

"It is time," I echo my mother, allowing myself to be steered away from all that makes Narcissa Black and toward all that would make an appropriate wife to Lucius Malfoy.

"I love you."

No. I will, at the very least, keep this one (best) piece of Narcissa Black close.