TITLE: Resurgam

AUTHOR: Serpentis

PAIRING: Narcissa/Lily

RATING: PG13

FEEDBACK: the_evil_lord_alexander@yahoo.co.uk

DISCLAIMER: *kleptomaniac look* Not mine - I just borrow them, traumatise them, and sent them back grubby

SUMMARY: It was more than love – it was a true meeting of souls. Their bodies were separated first by marriage and then an infamous death, but a link still remains. Can Narcissa live her life even though she has lost Lily, her first and truest love? Sweet, fluffy, slightly supernatural femmeslash.

ARCHIVING: You want it? *faints*

Resurgam

Her name bespoke her purity, the flower of death so radiant in life and love and everything that meant something. Hair the colour of fire lilies, skin of pure arum, long throat the flute of the pale and creamy sentinel trumpet and the vivid green eyes rippled like the droplet spattered foliage of the aquatic carnea . She was aurelian in height; tall but not overly so, with the long and languid curves of the leopard lily.

Lily of death and purity, of beauty and charm and coquettish naivety. Lily-girl, not made for this world's pain. Lily, Lily, Lily…Death had come for her, for Death always desires the most beautiful of people to be his paramour.

Death always gains what he most demands.

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They had been lovers for but a brief time, yet she remembered so very well. The first rather awkward moment when pale fingers had tangled with those equally as white, the meeting of their eyes in sudden clarification of the rightness of their palms' touch. How could the brush of their virgin lips together be forgotten? The way that warm, slightly dry mouth yielded under the vaguely clumsy pressure of the other was far too intoxicating, far too important and precious a split second to wipe from the mind.

The first time they had made love had not been successful. Lily was far too shy and Narcissa a little too inexperienced for the experiment to go according to their well thought-out desires. It ended, however, with the redhead lying in the arms of her ice-maiden lover. There was no argument, for although the attempt had not been triumphant, the stroking and sweet words and the texture of silken skin against skin had made the experience utterly right. Through caresses and gentle speech and gasps of pleasure they had deepened their bond to something that even if it was not love, was very nearly there.

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The elegant blonde turns to her elaborately gilded mirror and examines her face minutely. Her husband always wants her to look exquisite, although the marks of age are starting to encroach on her white skin. Faint lines create a tracery as delicate as stained glass around those glacier eyes, and the skin at her throat is beginning to lose the soft suppleness that it once had. She is growing old; a state that she has been trained by Lucius to dread, for beauty is almost as powerful as wealth where society is concerned.

Her Lily wouldn't grow ancient. She wouldn't see her fresh beauty fade away in the autumn of her days. Lily would be lovely forever; glorious autumnal colouring never invaded by the greys and silvers of winter, her sweet and freckled face remaining smooth and unlined.

She's dead

Tears prick at those pale eyes and a hand that has reached for a silver serpent hair clip shakes. Each morning when she wakes, the split second before her mind begins to function properly allows her to forget that Lily is dead, forget that they both married mortal enemies. For that nano-second, she and her love are together again and can never be parted.

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Tears glitter like shards of glass through the lace veil as she lays the small posy of flowers upon the obsidian headstone. Tangled together are golden and cream narcissi and lilies the colour of virginity, bound together with ribbons in the colours of Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Kneeling before the grave, she reaches up, fingers tracing over the slightly peeling golden lettering that spells out the name of her love.

Resurgam. I will rise again.

Phoenix from the flames, Narcissa thinks, agony slashing through her heart as she leans forward to kiss the smooth glassy surface of the memorial stone.

Lily, Lily, my love…

Don't weep, Narcissa

Lily?

It's me. Please don't cry. You're far too lovely to be crying

Is it really you?

It is.

Are you in my head?

And in your heart. Forever in your heart, my sweet, beautiful Narcissa

I love you. I always have

And I love you. Some things will never die

As the voice fades, the blonde feels the ghost of a kiss fall on her tear-salted lips.

Will always be there for you. Will never leave you. Death is never the end.

And for a second, as she is kissed again so sweetly, Narcissa can see wide emerald eyes, a cascade of beech-leaf hair, and the face of the woman she will love for the rest of eternity.