AN: Round 1 - prompt: the song "Wicked Blood", by Sea Wolf
The Threatening Past
"We met in the east
Poured in like a flood
You're the whispering kind
Dark sapphire blood
You're a vision of veils
All shimmery white
Like a backdrop of sails
All aglow from the light
Of the wonder behind
At a starry night
(...)
Your silken skin
My fingers rough
In the midnight dim
We went home and touched
Beneath the chandeliers
And your Persian's dust"
–"Wicked Blood", Sea Wolf
When Narcissa caught sight of that man at the Manor, her teeth chattered in fear, yet she forced her lips and jaw to stay unmoving. Not showing any signs of weakness whatsoever had become easy (the hard way), even though the fear he provoked in her was enormous. For a moment she entertained the foolish hope that would not remember her, but Narcissa Malfoy had never been an unremarkable woman.
Mrs. Malfoy to-be was a seventh-year Hogwarts student with her wedding date picked. However, in the summer, she was still a teenager.
On a trip to the exotic East, a familiar face appeared amid the aromatic spices, grinning hungrily at her from behind the heat haze. Of course she had been reluctant at first, but her determination began to waver when he became an artful snake-charmer.
He had the ways of a cheap Casanova, paying her desperately elaborate compliments that struggled to fit in his dirty lips, and then ended up ever so smooth. She replied with a sort of sneering grin or a condescending laugh – and he noticed, he was smart. Types like him didn't care, though, as long as it got them what they wanted.
When they were back to England, he had the daring to turn up at her house in the middle of night; breaking into her bedroom like a thief, craving to steal her dignity. She tried to hold on to it, but it was no use fighting the coarse allure of the revoltingly seductive man.
After that, he got bored and moved on to his next adventure. Although they never met again, the memories always haunted her.
And now he brought prisoners into her house, calling her "ma'am" every few sentences as if to mock her fear.
In a way, that man was a threat more worrying than the Dark Lord himself. United, Narcissa knew her family would be – had to be – strong enough to resist until the end of the War; if that filthy, insolent man decided it would be fun to tear them apart, they would undoubtedly crumble. And nothing made her angrier than knowing she had been the one to give him that kind of power.
AN: Phew, it's over! Narcissa can go back to being the perfect wife and mother in my head (and yes, that was Scabior)
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