Sanity Lost
Truth. Narcissa shivered. The truth is a scary thing when you've lain under layers of falsehood for a lifetime. From birth, Narcissa Black had been groomed. Not raised, groomed to be the perfect child. A statue. Seen, not heard. Appreciated, but not understood. Some things were set so deep in the lie Narcissa had grown accustomed to living that they felt like the memories. The truths of a different person. Things she would simply never say.
Narcissa sat at her desk, running her slender fingers along the intricate cravings that adorned the mahogany. She closed her eyes and took a breath.
Tomorrow she would testify against her husband. He would be sent to Azkaban or sentenced to death. She had come to realize long before the war's end that he would pay. She had buried all emotion concerning him beneath layers, at the bottom of the pool of things she wished to be forgotten, and thus were.
The letter of confirmation that sat in front of her was merely a reminder. It made the trial seem much more real.
She sighed, daintily pressing her palm to her forehead. Tomorrow she would testify under Veritaserum. For the first time in Narcissa's life, the layers of the pool she had sent numerous hours creating through occlumency would ripple and shatter apart, leaving behind a sea of chaos.
Narcissa was not often afraid, but the truth was something to fear. It brought about emotions and memories that she wished to suppress. It made her feel more than she would have liked. It made her weak. It made her human.
Confronting the truth was like confronting a lion. You could fight, and sometime you would emerge stronger, but there was a higher chance of being ripped to shreds by its teeth.
Narcissa decided that she would rather confront her emotions on her own terms. All Dark pureblooded witches and wizards feared truth as they feared death. Still, she would rather face the horrors and lies alone. In her office she would feel less shame. She would save herself from the jury's pity. She did not want it. She did not need it.
Slowly she reached into the pool, careful not to allow for the water along its surface to ripple and pull. She found a truth. One she had known she though she would never be confronted with again.
Narcissa was the youngest of her sisters, and while most parents would fuss over their youngest, Narcissa's parents tended to forget about her. They had, after all, already gone through the tedious process raising a little girl, twice. And so, the care of Narcissa fell into her sisters' hands.
Bellatrix was the most powerful, magically and otherwise. Narcissa idolized her eldest sister. She followed her around and imitated each of her mannerisms. Bellatrix went along with the admiration that came from her sister; it made her feel strong. From the beginning, power called to her. Still, Bellatrix would treat the blonde as an assistant, a follower. Not as a younger sibling. While Narcissa enjoyed being treated as an adult, she sometimes wished Bellatrix would not be so cold. They were sisters, after all.
On the day Narcissa was born, Andromeda was the first to hold her. She looked into the babe's blue eyes and saw a vulnerability she had never seen in the eyes of Bellatrix or her mother. She swore protect and shelter her baby sister from the vicious world. Each night before bed, Andromeda would kiss Narcissa's forehead and promise to be with her for always, to protect her though everything. She stood up for her sister when Narcissa angered Bellatrix, and when Narcissa needed a shoulder to cry on, it was always Andromeda's.
In her life Narcissa had never felt more pain than on the day Andromeda left. The night before her escape Andromeda had come to Narcissa's bedroom and apologized. Not for the disgrace, but for breaking her promise.
Narcissa had always loved Andromeda the best, but she would never forgive her sister for having abandoned her in the cold world of their terrible family.
Next Narcissa dug deeper into the eleventh year of her life, eyes still closed and head held high in fierce concentration. She grabbed hold of a thread and pulled, watching it unwind.
When Narcissa was placed under the Sorting Hat she closed her eyes and prayed to be put in Slytherin. She refused to let down her family. She would be a Slytherin no matter what.
The Sorting Hat chuckled because her sense of pride and loyalty was that of a perfect Hufflepuff.
She knew she would make a good Hufflepuff, she was caring and loyal to her friends and family, and she was stubborn like a badger, her jaw locked fiercely in battle. However, the world would see her as a Slytherin. Camouflage was often a valuable gift.
Narcissa fought the urge to head back, to leave the pool still. But she would not allow herself to cower in fear of her own mind. She dove deeper, thinking of Lucius.
Narcissa met Lucius Malfoy when she was seven years old.
Throughout school he courted her. They went on dates and kissed in the corridors, but it was all a formality; their parents had arranged their marriage before they had been born.
Lucius married her when she turned seventeen. Narcissa wore a white gown with a long train and her bridesmaids carried pink lilies. It was the picture of a storybook wedding.
When she and Lucius kissed under the canopy, she knew she loved him.
When Lucius held her son and named him Draco in keeping with her family's tradition, she knew she loved him.
When Lucius pledged allegiance to Lord Voldemort, she was not sure.
When Lucius handed her son over to Lord Voldemort, she knew she hated him.
She let herself cry, then. Narcissa cried for what her husband might have been. There must have been at time at which he had been good. Where his loving gaze had been pure and untainted by a love of power.
Narcissa grabbed hold of the desk as emotions flooded through of her. She felt as if her brain would explode, a massive bloody pool. Memory after truth played in front of her. Her eyes crossed in agony. Narcissa cried out, but there was no one to hear.
Narcissa felt a tinge of happiness taint the water, and intrigued in her anguish, she floated writhing to greet the warmth.
When Draco was born Narcissa had exclaimed that he looked so much like Lucius. The healer told Narcissa he had her smile.
As he grew she came to realize that although Draco looked so much like Lucius, it was his smile that defined him. He really was a lot more like her.
For that, she was glad.
Narcissa let the happiness overwhelm her. She had always told him that he was like his father. She had always told him that he should be proud. Now, it was she who was proud, but a little bit sad.
She dove further, splitting her thoughts. Pushing her very limits to the deepest and coldest parts of her mind. She made herself go further. She could barely breathe. She saw the face of the creature her husband called Lord.
She hated him. She was a dark witch, and essentially shared his views, but hated what he had done to the world, to her family. Lord Voldemort was cruel and terrible and more corrupt than any Dark Lord had ever been.
When her husband asked her to take the Mark, she lied and said she would rather it not stain her skin. She let him believe it was vanity, narcissism.
In truth, she rathered it not stain her soul.
Narcissa was going mad, and only one memory flashed behind her eyes. By now she was writhing on the floor as she attempted to real herself in from her mind. It was no use, the ties had snapped. Narcissa was a prisoner of her own truths.
"You, examine him. Tell me whether he is dead," the Dark Lord hissed, pointing at her.
Trembling with fear she leaned over to the boy. He looked so young. So innocent. He was the same age as Draco, but had suffered hardships no adult should ever have to endure. She felt pity and compassion for the boy lying dead in the mud.
Just then his eyelids fluttered. She quickly blocked the motion from the Dark Lord with her body.
"Is Draco alive?" she whispered urgently in his ear. "Is he in the castle?"
Narcissa closed her eyes and prayed for her son. He was all that mattered to her anymore.
"Yes."
Narcissa felt her heart swell and she raised her head to recall words she would afterward wonder whether or not would have been uttered had the boy's answer differed.
"He is dead!" She cried, fighting the Dark Lord with the occlumency shield she had kept hidden for years.
It has been said that the truth will set one free.
When Narcissa was five Andromeda had taken her to a zoo. There she saw a polar bear, swimming in an ice-cold pool under the London smog.
"Shouldn't we set him free Andy?" she had asked her older sister.
"We can't Cis," Andromeda shook her head. "It doesn't know how to be free."
Narcissa nodded, not quite understanding.
Some people, like the polar bear, are never meant to be set free. Some are bred into captivity, and would never survive a different world. They would drown.
Narcissa was the polar bear. And as her chains came free from a world of lies and hated memories, Narcissa felt her sanity slip, inch by inch.
Her last sane though was directed towards her husband.
Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa thought, I hope you die.
And with that, she left the world behind.
I wrote this for the prompt "Things I Will Never Say" as part of the "Tell Me a Story" collaboration at the Hogwarts Online forum. I hope you liked it. Please leave a review!
Love,
Aly