Written for HP Slash Luv's Weekly Pairings Drabble Competition (Week 11). The pairing was Sirius/Narcissa.
TW: (past) incest, (past) underage.
"If you tell my mother or Bella, I swear to God—"
"Trust me, I've no interest in talking to Aunt Dru or Trixie."
The blonde woman looks the person she is speaking to up and down, her narrowed blue eyes examining every inch of his ragged appearance, her arms crossed over her chest. He's got a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and he's clad in a well-worn leather jacket, ripped blue jeans, a white shirt, and black work boots. His shoulder-length black hair is pulled back in a pony-tail and his silver-grey eyes are watching her with equal scrutiny.
"Why didn't you go to Andy? Or Potter? Why me?" she finally asks. She's clearly on edge, uncomfortable and anxious with the presence of the other man.
"Because, Cissa, Andy has a husband and child and James is visiting family in India." He fiddles with the strap of his bag, shifting his weight on his feet. His eyes flick around the room that surrounds then; he takes in the expensive furniture but sparse decoration, the cleanliness born less of a pedantic nature but a lack of time to make things dirty.
"Is that it?"
Sirius just glares at her.
Narcissa snorts, rolling her eyes before turning on her heel. The man follows her as she walks past the couch, through the kitchen, down the hall and to a door. She turns the knob and pushes it open, ushering him in.
The guest bedroom is decorated like the rest of the house; it's furnished with expensive items but it's clean, lacking any sort of personal touches or warmth.
"While I'm still suspicious of your intentions," she says in her nasally-yet-feminine voice, sounding as snobbish as she looks, "you can stay for now." He cocks an eyebrow at her, his lips twitching with a smirk. "And I want you out of here as soon as Potter is back," she hastily continues. "Got it?"
"You know Cissa, someone might think you don't like me."
Her nose twitches and she lets out a huff; "Sirius. Am I understood?"
He rolls his silver-grey eyes before dumping his bag on the floor with a thunk. "Loud and clear." He steps past her and falls onto the bed, much to her disdain. "Comfy," Sirius murmurs before flipping over onto his back and crossing his arms behind his head.
"I'm glad it meets your approval," she sneers, rolling her eyes. Again. She's well on her way to rolling her eyes right out of her head. Then she's going, her back to Sirius as her heels click against the hard wood floor. She's half out the door when Sirius speaks again.
"Why do you hate me?"
"What?" she snaps, spinning around to look at him, her glare like glinting daggers. Her nostrils flare.
"This… How you're treating me – it's like you hate me," he says. His tone is less haughty then before as he picks at the hem of his shirt. "I mean… I know things have changed but…" He looks up to her, their eyes meeting – his gaze is pleading, hers is cold. "We used to be really close, y'know? Remember the Christmas dinner party when I was fifteen?"
"I remember our mothers going on about what a cute couple we would make. I remember your father reassuring my father that your teenage rebellion would come to an end. I remember Regulus giving Kreacher a present."
His expression is incredulous; "you don't remember sneaking off? That was my first kiss y'know."
Narcissa sighs, eyes wandering around the room as she thinks, never once looking at Sirius. Her arms are crossed and her fingers drum against her skin. After a few moments, she finally looks at Sirius. Her gaze remains frigid and her lips are pursed.
"Did you come here for a shag or for a place to sleep? Because if it's the former, you can leave. Our engagement is off and I'm dating Lucius Malfoy now."
He rolls his eyes; "I know – Aunt Dru wouldn't stop going on about it when she last came over. Said he was a wonderful catch. Frankly, I think he's a bit of a plonker but as long as your happy."
"Then why bring it up?"
It's a half-sigh that leaves his lips as he pushes himself up into a sitting position, his fingers moving to let down his hair. "I just miss us. I miss being able to talk to you about anything and I miss your smile. I miss when we'd quip about our parents being stupid or when we'd play jokes on Bella. I miss… I miss being your friend. That's all I want – I mean… don't get me wrong, that other stuff we did at that party was great but you've always been my family and I miss that."
Narcissa looks long and hard at him. She feels empathy, feels the conviction behind his words. She remembers the times he's talking about; she remembers when he confessed to her that he didn't think Gryffindor was that bad and she remembers that time they turned Bella's hair pink. She also remembers when they snuck off at the Christmas dinner party – she'd been nineteen and he'd been fifteen and she'd pushed him down on his bed and had her wicked way with him. She remembers it and it makes her heart thump in her chest so hard she fears she'll crack a rib.
What's done is done though. Those days are over and they're just memories now, fading under the harsh temperament of time.
"We're not family anymore. You're no longer a Black."
There's no room for question; she slams the door shut behind her.