A / N : Drabble, for the Love / Like / Admire Challenge on xoxLewrahxox's Forum.

Prompt : Write a 100 or 500 word drabble in which your chosen character thinks of the person they love / like / admire. They don't have to think of the other character the whole way through, but there should at least be a reference to it.


"I thought you would enjoy it. It's a party. You enjoy parties. What on earth possessed you?"

Narcissa Black crosses her arms, staring rather sulkily at the floor.

"This isn't a party," she says loftily. "Parties aren't boring."

Lucius stares at her. "Boring?" he echoes.

He fails to see how tonight differs from the (many) parties Narcissa has described to him in rapturous detail, over the course of their acquaintance.

Narcissa shrugs, inspecting her fingernails. "Yes," she says sharply. "Boring. There's no dancing, for a start."

Lucius blinks, and does his best to mask his bewilderment. "It's a dinner party. Why on earth would there be dancing? And who do you expect would dance? Most of the guests are rather .. ."

"Old."

"Senior."

Narcissa – who until this point has been impersonating an ice-sculpture with no small success – suddenly giggles.

Lucius has no idea why his statement was amusing enough to shatter her resolve.

Not that it matters. She is a silly girl . . . who seems to find him disproportionately amusing, on the whole.

Narcissa sweeps her hair over one shoulder and rolls her eyes, in one fluid motion.

"Senior, then," she says flippantly. "They were still boring."

Lucius taps his fingers against the table. There are times when he wonders why he puts up with her.

"It was a perfectly reasonable discussion about politics. The Wizengamot is under review. There are any number of beneficial changes which could be implemented, with a little . . . assistance."

It was a perfectly reasonable discussion.

(A perfectly safe discussion is what he really means, of course. Not a hint of scandal, not a shadow of truth in it. Narcissa, naturally, has no idea how difficult it is to engineer such conversations. How difficult it is to protect her.)

(Not that it matters, of course. Narcissa is a rather silly girl. A taste of the truth – about her sister, about Lucius himself, even – would probably do her good. Well .. . some good. A little good. Perhaps.)

Narcissa taps her toes against the anteroom tiles, wrinkling her nose.

"I was only trying to be of assistance," she says sweetly.

Lucius sighs.

"Narcissa. Some words can't be used outside civilized conversation. Telling the clerk he ought to strike all the Mudbloods off the roll -"

"Is exactly what you wanted to tell him!"

(She's a silly girl. He doesn't know why he puts up with her.)

(She's absolutely right.)

Narcissa smiles, and moves a little closer.

Her shoulders are a little too stiff now, her movements a shade too careful - as they always are, when she crosses the boundary of comfort. (Close enough to touch.)

She breathes just a little too quickly.

Lucius hardly breathes at all.

(There is something strangely fractured about moments like these.)

"I wouldn't have been bored if there was dancing." Narcissa bites her lip. "What's wrong with dancing?"

She has no idea why he puts up with her.