A/N. A missing scene at Malfoy Manor. Supposedly, between 1972 and 1979 (Narcissa's first years of marriage).

Daisies. She loved daisies.

Andromeda adored dark, almost black roses.

And Bella... Bella usually looked at flowers as though they've insulted her. But to be honest, Narcissa suspected that this attitude was nothing more than a game.

Sometimes it made her laugh, sometimes it made her wonder. The last feeling only increased when she realized that it is not at all daisies she should be loving. However ironic it sounded, Andromeda's preferences were much closer to their way of life. Or better yet, the life they were supposed to lead.

Black roses could easily turn into a creamy, or white ones. But daisies required much more work.

Narcissa cringed at the insistent thought and fought the desire to wrap herself in plaid. It seemed like her skin was burning from cold. Slowly, she inhaled the burning air and sat, unmoving, for a couple more minutes.

'Sit straighter, Narcissa. You will have to ignore much more serious and painful things than cold. But do you know which kind of pain is the worst? Being less that you can be.'

Her mother was saying this with a smile on her face. A smile which didn't go away until the last word, but Narcissa felt that she could not answer in kind.

She thought that the worst thing was to lose those you loved. Parents, sisters, friends. Those who are near you. Those who save you from loneliness.

To be honest, she was thinking the same thing now.

Back in that long-gone evening, nearly erased by the moving time, the smile did not disappear. But her mother's eyes developed something akin to a realization. She realized that even her most obedient daughter could never be like her.

Narcissa could only imagine what Bella and Andromeda would say to that. Bella, for one, had no doubts that she could become the best version of herself. Their mother would delight in such an answer, that is if she chose to ignore its additional meanings. One goal with different approaches painted not one picture, but a bunch of them. And their mother knew that. She knew that perfectly well. Every of her three daughters had a certain likeness to her, but that likeness had its limits, some of which were insurmountable.

Daisies were but one example. Still, Narcissa loved them all the same.

Lucius did not mind.

But she had to pretend that she did not notice Severus' mocking expressions. A glass of wine was her answer. Hospitality had to come first, after all.

He took the glass with warm politeness. Clearly, she could expect no pretense today.

There was something else, though. A warning. A game that they were bound to finish. A frame, not designed but forced to hold rare crumbs of honesty.

He drank wine. She looked at the daisies. Her lips were moving. Telling some meaningless things. Shaping them, while perfectly knowing that even the most subtle emotion in her tone would turn them into dust.

If he'd refused the wine, she would have offered him tea, or coffee. But he never refused, never showed his discontent at her small rituals. In turn, she acted as if she did not notice occasional sparkles of irritation in his eyes. Of course, he should be a bit irritable. She is not sure she could bear his company otherwise.

He, in turn, was somehow able to make his presence not only bearable, but almost necessary. She had no desire to learn his secrets - neither for entertainment nor for potential defense. She was sure he had plenty of those, though.

'Daisies?'

His voice sounds indifferent, as if they are still discussing the weather, but Narcissa knows that in this case she has to look for the meaning, not the form.

She fights the sudden urge to take the flowers away. But will that work with Severus? The answer is not at all ambiguous. So all she can do is sit and pretend that everything is right.

'I thought they would refresh the room a bit.'

He does not nod, even though this is the best thing he can do. The only right thing he can do.

'Relax, Narcissa.'

This time, his voice is quiet, and soft, and she cannot resist the sudden inspiration.

'They were growing near our home. Until we had a home.'

Not even aware, she highlights the last word and meets Severus' direct look.

They both understand that daisies were never a symbol of her home. Their divided silence gets stuck in Narcissa's throat.

They also understand that it is not about daisies. Daisies could as well be chamomiles. Yet still...

'Bella was always fond of... grandstanding.'

Yes. Narcissa only had daisies, whereas Bella had much more tools at her disposal, to prove how unique she was.

Narcissa laughs and offers him wine. It is their third glass already. They would have to stop. At some point.

A few heartbeats later, he accepts.

Dark liquid is too viscous to descend gracefully. It appears to be in no hurry either.

Narcissa feels a pang of consciousness.

'She almost never comes.'

And obviously it is not the best way to ease the pain.

Severus' look is almost mocking, but she is still hoping that he will not cross that line.

'Perhaps you should stop hiding your daisies? Or get rid of them for good? To avoid temptation.'

Silent, Narcissa squeezes the glass with her fingers until they hurt.

'Bella does not like half-measures,' he continues.

'Bella does not like...' There is no better phrase to outline the essence of their problems throughout the years. Narcissa finishes the wine in a gulp. Burning in her throat is almost pleasant.

'And Andromeda? What does not she love?'

Bitterness in her voice is detached and 'dissipated', as if its only purpose is to avoid taking too much space at a time. Still, she notices a brief hint of irritation in his eyes. A moment later, it transforms into something else. Nacrissa has no energy to analyze.

'They can ask you the same question.'

Her own irritation bursts out before she can even think about enforcing a taboo. She does not know if this is right. She only knows that it is pleasant.

She takes away his glass in one sharp, but restrained motion and gets up. Her fingers seek for the plaid, wrapping it around her shoulders a moment later. She knows that she looks subtly aggressive, but pleasure - and relief - do not allow her to stop.

Severus narrows his eyes. She should have known that. Sometimes she thinks that his real hobby is not creating potions but infuriating people.

Her irritation subdues giving a way to languid, almost indulgent fatigue. Narcissa returns to her chair rewarding him with a nearly-sacrificed glass. Severus accepts it with a nod and a smile - a real smile.

They both take a few sips.

'You cannot answer for your sisters, Narcissa. They've chosen their way, just as you've chosen yours.'

Her first reaction is to say that she does not have any way, never did, but falseness of that statement makes her cringe inside.

She has a family. A husband. A home.

Her daisies. And even her plaid.

She has a choice.

'Neither of you became your mother. Including you.'

For a second, Narcissa is too lost for words. But then she recalls that it is Severus she is talking to.

She drains the glass and moves the daisies to the center of the table.

A half-smile on Severus' face warms something inside her.

Yes, her mother was right. She could be so much more. She could be herself.

The sound of steps almost takes her off guard, but she catches Severus' eyes and gets herself under control.

'Narcissa?'

Confidence in Bella's voice is mixed with a subtle dose of wariness.

Narcissa stands up to greet her. And there is an actual smile on her face. An unexpected bonus, to say the least.

Bella raises her eyebrows but accepts the glass.

Severus looks at them with an exaggerated expression of disinterest.

Bella is predictably annoyed.

'Hasn't his company made you weary yet?'

Severus purses his lips.

'I expect much more weariness by the end of this evening.'

Bella frowns. Narcissa catches a muffled chuckle and takes her arm.

'Stop this. At least today.'

'And what happened today?'

Narcissa holds her breath.

'Daisies.'

Bella's perplexed face makes her laugh.

'It is a long story.'

In all honestly, this story is quite brief - but it is not one that requires words.

Instead, she squeezes Bella's hand and gives her the plaid?

Bella's eyes light up with realization, and that is all she desires.

And today... today she feels that this desire is mutual.

She hears soft steps and knows that the moment she turns her head Severus will be gone. It is no use convincing him to stay, just as there was no use convincing him to disclose the real purpose behind his visit.

She does neither.

She simply knows. She knows that he will come back and they will continue their wordless conversation as if it had never been interrupted.