DESTINY
~A LuciusNarcissa Oneshot~
Narcissa glares at him, hands on her hips. Her chocolate-covered spoon lies in its bowl, forgotten. "In case you've forgotten, Malfoy, I said that I did not find Death Eaters attractive."
Even so, she finds herself looking to his face; she's actually making sure he's not too hurt by her comment. Then, Narcissa slaps herself internally. She's not supposed to love him, damn, how hard is that supposed to be?
There are dark circles under his eyes that she hasn't seen before, and his hair is, for once, not impeccable. He twists his mouth into a sneer, but not before she catches hold of his expression. "What happened to the promises you made me in the Slytherin common room?" he demands, advancing on her. His long, elegant fingers caress her face; his grey eyes bore into her blue. "You can't just quit now, Black. That would be severely out-of-character."
"How absolutely witty of you, Malfoy," Narcissa says drily, rolling her eyes. "No. How many times do I have to tell you? I don't do Death Eaters."
Lucius crosses his arms, twisting his mouth. There's a tiny note of desperation in his voice, something she hasn't heard before – and it makes her cringe internally, weirdly. "I'm not like the rest of them," he replies, holding out his hand, "Please. It's a promise on my Malfoy honour, Black."
It takes all her willpower to shake her head. It isn't because she doesn't love him – she does, perhaps too much – but Narcissa is scared. She's scared of Lucius becoming Bella, of being cast in the shadows; she doesn't want her future child being raised by the madman her boyfriend will (probably) be. The Dark Lord owns you, once you're Marked; that much she knows. She prefers to remain free, mind.
His grey eyes flicker on her face for a moment, and he turns to leave – but, no, he seems to reconsider, and rolls up his left sleeve for her to see. "Look," he whispers to her, walking slowly towards her, "You're clever, Narcissa. Look at my arm."
"I don't want to-" Narcissa starts, but then she forces herself to look. The Dark Mark – she regrets the thought immediately – is prettier than she'd have thought. It is a finely-sculpted skull with a serpent protruding, black in colour; when she looks closer, she sees angry red blisters around the Dark Mark – and on the Mark itself.
As if he were reading her mind, he states clearly, matter-of-fact, "That was from last week, when I tried to burn it off." Lucius shakes his head, not looking at her. "We were on a mission. They were torturing the bartender of a bar in Knockturn Alley and then killed him and – well, it disgusted me. I thought that if I burnt off my Mark, the Dark Lord wouldn't find me."
"And you were wrong," Narcissa says softly.
His blond head bobs. "Rabastan told me off about it, brought me back to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord – you don't want to know what he did to me. He told me that he was merciful, that he would give me a second chance. Rabastan attended to me afterwards, told me he would mentor me for some time."
Lucius looks up, stares at her. "You see how I don't have a choice, Black?" he asks, spreading out his hands. "I made a mistake – and I can't fix it. I thought being a Death Eater was glorious. It isn't." He tilts his head at her. "Surely you can spare me a second chance?"
Her head's spinning. She loves him, yes – but she doesn't like what Death Eaters are doing: killing in order to get their message hurt. She feels sorry for him, but she can't fathom why the bloody hell did he want to join in the first place.
Then again, the good side hates her, her and her fellow purebloods. The good side doesn't like Slytherins, because they all think of them as monsters and Death Eater wannabes. The good side is headed by Dumbledore, who never gives a shit about people different from himself.
Narcissa Black wants to do the right thing: but what is it, in the end?
Her last option is listening to her heart. And her heart, warped as it is, tells her to go to Lucius and support the blood supremacists on the Dark Lord's side. They're friends of hers, after all, and strength in numbers, yeah?
She stares at Lucius, lean and handsome and charming, her boyfriend who's not just any bloke; and then she slowly approaches and throws her arms round his neck, hugging him. "Fine, Malfoy," she grumbles, but graces him with a radiant smile. "I'll give you a second chance, but not a third or a fourth, okay?"
Lucius laughs, slips her slim fingers between his, and twirls her. "Okay, Black," he says, his lips crashing down on hers hard. "Whatever you say."
The room spins around her as she closes her eyes. Now, she knows, Narcissa has officially and permanently sealed her destiny.
And, for once, the unknown doesn't scare her (too much).
THE END
