Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, clearly

A porcelain doll stands, clad in sumptuous, but now old, satin underneath a dome of fine crystal, expression frozen in docile, reserved happiness. Narcissa touches her pale fingertips to the doll's glass prison and sighs. In a moment, Borgin is at her side.

'A doll, Miss Black, porcelain,' he explains, head bowed slightly in feigned deference. 'Used by dressmakers in the last century, miss, to model wedding dresses I believe. This particular one, I'm told, holds an especially nasty curse. Haven't had a chance to test that yet though, I'm afraid.'

Cursed. A cursed bride, incapable of emotion. How fitting, she thinks distractedly.

Narcissa's thoughts fly to her impending marriage. In all the preparation for the wedding, she has been rather glad that she rarely has time to think about her actual marriage. Her husband-to-be. She has always been the romantic type; believing since childhood in the ideal of true love. A rich, handsome true love naturally. But still, love. But now! Now she'll become little more than a trophy wife for a wealthy pure blood she hardly knows. Beautiful, glamorous and fertile so as to produce equally handsome children.

How can she go through with this?

But, she reasons, even Bellatrix has had to compromise. Fiery, unreserved Bella. Even she submitted to a marriage befitting her class. Narcissa is no exception. She wishes briefly that she could be as strong as Andy, but quickly banishes the thought. Strong like Andy? Well just look where that got her. Shaking her head slightly to calm her thoughts, Narcissa turns back to Borgin.

'You can send the diamonds to the Malfoy Manor,' she says distantly.

'You're going so soon Miss Black?' Borgin asks, dismayed at her early departure. She fixes him with a cold look and without a backward glance leaves the gloomy shop. Out in the street, Narcissa's eye is immediately drawn to Twilfitt and Tatting's. Well, she thinks, there are certain advantages to marrying into the Malfoys.

AN: Twilfitt and Tatting's being the Knockturn Alley equivalent to Madam Malkin's. Inspired by Eavan Boland's poem 'The Shadow Doll'. Hope you liked it, please leave a review!