Narcissa's Regret
The end is near, my son. I can feel it. I can almost see the abhorred shears closing in on my thread of life. Soon there will be nothing left of me.
Don't worry, son. I don't fear death, not anymore. Do not be sad at my passing. Be thankful that I lived. Be happy for the memories the Fates allowed us to share. They have been plentiful. They are running out.
But also, heed my warning. Don't do as I have done – as your father did. Always remember the most important things. I didn't.
I wonder if I ever told you about Harriet. I probably didn't. For a long time, I wanted to forget she had ever existed. It was my mistake, you see, only, I didn't know which part of the story was the mistake, and which was the gift. I know now.
.o0o.
A young girl with straight blond hair and wide blue eyes stood on a Platform, her view of the gleaming red train obscured by countless bodies as they shuffled by. Her mother, a stern looking woman with dark hair, tried to shuffle her along, but she stood and stared, wide-eyed in wonder, smiling as she drew in what felt like her first real breath. She could taste freedom on the breeze, the freedom promised by an old steam train, ready to take her away.
"Coming, mother!" she called, shaking the smile from her face and the silly thoughts from her head. She wasn't free yet. She had to be patient.
"Now, remember to write to me once a week – no more, no less," her mother began, bending down to look her daughter dead in the eye. "Remember to keep to your lessons, and stay away from the Mudbloods. Stick to your own kind and you'll succeed."
"Of course, mother," the girl recited, a learned role with no feeling.
"Good. I'll see you at New Year. Your sisters will keep you safe if trouble arises." The mother patted the girl on the shoulder, in place of the embraces mothers were giving their children all around. The girl smiled sweetly and nodded a little, in respect, before pulling her trunk on to the train. Only when she was out of sight of the platform did she let herself look at the excitement on the faces of the other children. Only when she wasn't being watched did she let her own excitement show.
She chose a lonely carriage to begin her journey, but it wasn't lonely for long. Another young girl, a First Year too, sat down beside her.
"Hello," the blond girl greeted, taking in the mousy hair of the newcomer, and the muggle clothes.
"Hello, I'm Harriet Spencer," the mousy girl replied. Spencer… Narcissa searched the family names she knew, the Sacred Twenty-Eight, the other pure families. She already knew Spencer wasn't there.
She had a moment, less than a moment, to think it through. To decide what she was going to do next. The little blonde girl with the wide eyes smiled, and said, "It's nice to meet you."
It was two years later when the real problems begun. Narcissa and Harriet's friendship had been a quiet one; one whose light was only seen in the dark and secret places. That didn't mean no one knew.
Narcissa was fourteen years old when she found herself racing through Hogwarts, heart thumping against her ribcage, having just heard the news. She was shoving her way past students like she didn't see them. Outside the Hospital Wing, a girl and a boy stood in blue and silver, looking at Narcissa with a sneer as she approached. Narcissa didn't care.
"Is she okay?" she asked Harriet's housemates, breathless.
"Like you care. It's your fault she's there," the girl sneered, curling a lip.
"I never meant… I didn't know…" Narcissa couldn't put words to the guilt she was feeling, the guilt the Ravenclaw had just confirmed to her. "Just tell me she's okay."
The boy saw something in Narcissa's eyes, something that made him take pity. "We don't know yet. They won't let us in. Look, if you really care about her, if you really want to help, you need to leave her alone. Things won't get better."
Narcissa nodded and walked away. The boy was right, as far as Narcissa could see. She'd done this. She'd had her taste of freedom and it was a sweet nectar, but this was real life, and in real life, Narcissa wasn't free.
She never spoke to Harriet again.
.o0o.
I thought, son, for a long time, that being her friend had been my mistake. It wasn't. My mistake was letting the friendship go. I should have let myself be happy, and stood by the friendship, and, ultimately, had the courage to express my feelings.
Son, I know, you aren't a child anymore and you haven't been for a long time, but this same narrative repeats itself again and again in the story of my life. I'm not telling you not to repeat my mistakes. I'm not even asking you. I just want you to know it's okay to do things differently. It's important to be true to yourself.
I never was. Not really. Not when I was younger, anyway. Not when it mattered. I let you fall into the same trap, once, and I'll never forgive myself for that. You were a bright young thing, pulled in so many different directions and I stood back, passive, and watched through most of it. I know what that feels like, son. I've been there, too.
A/N: So this didn't really turn out the way I wanted, but hopefully it's okay. I really wanted it to be a lot longer, with multiple flashbacks and numerous regrets, but it would have grown much larger than the prompt and wordcount restrictions allowed. Hopefully this is okay. Written for Myths and Legends Assignment 2 at Hogwarts: Write about someone who knows they're going to die soon, looking back on their accomplishments and regrets. I figured Draco himself was Narcissa's greatest accomplishment, to her.
932 words.