Disclaimer: I *literally* own nothing (on a parks and rec binge - kudos to those who get it)

A/N: soo i'm not really sure where this came from but I do REALLY like how it turned out and i hope you guys do too :) written for:

qlfcS4R6: catapults' beater 1: write about a darkside character displaying kindness, optional prompts - 6. 'have i told you that i hate you recently?' (dialogue) and 8. lightning (word); cinema comp ii: silence of the lambs: sympathy for bad guy; social media comp: instagram filter: use a beta;

thank you! to lucy and chad who helped me out with a beta.

Chance Encounters

A/N

DARK SIDE CHARACTER FOR KINDNESS

6. "Have i told you that i hate you recently?"

8. Lightning

Chance Encounters

The lobby of the Ministry of Magic came into view as green flames faded away, and Narcissa Malfoy took tentative steps forward. As her heels clicked on the hard tile, she tried to ignore the pairs of wandering eyes and the slight hush that followed her every step. So many years had passed and yet it still felt like everyone in this hall had their eyes on her, when only a fraction had actually even noticed her arrival.

Narcissa clutched the photograph and parchment tighter as she made her way to the lifts. She had taken the picture of her living room only an hour ago, after she had come home to find it searched. The parchment contained a list of items she knew were missing. Unfortunately, it was an occurrence that happened rather often. Petty theft wasn't an unusual crime, of course, but it happened to her at least every two years.

Taking advantage of a woman under a microscope was pretty easy, in spite of how hard she tried to keep a low profile. The new house was just big enough for her and Draco, when he came to visit, in a wizarding community outside Wales, far from Lucius and Malfoy Manor. Narcissa was quite fond of the place that had become her new home. But still, an older woman living alone catches eyes, word spreads, and people take advantage.

She stepped off onto Level 2 and made her way to the front desk of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement where she could report the state of her home. The Officer manning the desk was on the younger side. He started when he saw Narcissa but bumbled through the conversation enough for her to give her statement and make a timely exit. It didn't matter—she was used to the look: the infamous Narcissa Malfoy. It occurred to her that she would probably never get used to the scrutiny, and marveled at the fact that before the War, she reveled in that power. All eyes had been on her, always. She had had control at Hogwarts, in the Ministry, and in the inner circle of Death Eaters.

And she hated that there was a tiny part of her that missed that power.

Narcissa was rounding the corner when she an unfamiliar sight caught her eye. Just inside a door up above and on her right stood the Weasleys–Molly and Arthur. They were having a broken, emotional discussion; Molly cried in Arthur's arms. Narcissa felt herself take an unconscious step backward, keeping a distance from the people who had been her enemies for her entire life. But not anymore, she supposed.

Still… suddenly, she felt as if she could barely breathe.

They whispered back and forth urgently, but Molly seemed to be pulling away and pushing Arthur back towards his office. Arthur was holding her there, but eventually, Molly shook her head, kissed Arthur's cheek, and started back down the hall, still teary-eyed. Narcissa waited for Arthur to go back inside before she continued on her way. She met Molly again when Narcissa joined her in the same lift.

They shared the elevator with only two Ministry workers. Molly was looking down when Narcissa stepped in, but she could not hide the way she tried to put as much distance between them as possible. When the lift stopped in the Atrium, Narcissa let the others pass her by, and was headed towards the fireplaces when she caught sight of Molly veering off her course and go to the ladies' room. Narcissa could see her hiccuping into her handkerchief, though she was trying to hide it.

For some reason Narcissa couldn't place, she hesitated. She looked to the door Molly had just walked through, then at the fireplaces, and back again. This woman was not her friend, not even an acquaintance—she was an enemy, or she had been. The last time they had spoken was at least twenty years ago when Draco and Narcissa had turned themselves in.

And yet, Molly was upset. She was alone. If she could do something, anything, to help, that would be enough; and if Molly rejected her immediately, she could leave. No harm would be done. Holding her breath, she made her way to the ladies' room and opened the door, hoping no one else was there.

Narcissa could see Molly in the mirror, propped up with her elbows on the counter with sobs racking her body. She stood there, questioning the sensibility of this decision even as she tried to gather the tiniest bit of strength.

"Mrs.…Mrs. Weasley. Molly." It was a decent start.

Molly looked up and her expression quickly became shocked.

"Are you…" Narcissa closed her eyes and swallowed, trying to ignore the way Molly's eyes bored into hers, even in the reflection. "Can I help?"

Molly swallowed. Her voice was dry. "Help?"

"You're obviously upset." Narcissa cringed, realizing that the words had the slightest bite. "I just mean…you shouldn't be alone. I could fetch your daughter, maybe? She…she writes for the Prophet, right?" She swallowed, looking down at the floor as her voice died on the rather silly suggestion.

Narcissa couldn't see Molly now, but her voice was cold. "My husband works downstairs. If I didn't want to be alone, I would have stayed with him."

"Of course," Narcissa whispered. Merlin, she felt like she was at Hogwarts again, about thirteen years old. She had never been on this end of an exchange: the unwelcome one. It was probably only a minute of silence, but it felt like hours before she tried to meet Molly's eyes again, and another hour before Molly spoke.

"What are you doing here?"

"I don't know." Narcissa thought honesty was the best way to go.

Molly looked away and swiped at the tears on her cheeks. "It's been a long, hard day. I talked to my husband, and my children have their lives to live; they shouldn't put them on hold for me. And I certainly don't need you here."

"I just…I hate to be alone, when I'm upset. So I came and…you know, I'll go. I'm…sorry I disturbed you." She turned to leave and suddenly turned back. "Scorpius writes me about your grandchildren. The stories…they remind me of our Hogwarts days. It feels like a century ago."

"We were years apart."

"Still," she said shortly. "The stories make me laugh. He mentions so many Weasleys, but Potter's boy, and Fred–Scorpius always writes home about something new they've done. I just…wanted you to know."

Molly's expression crumbled, and she closed in on herself again. The silence stretched on, but eventually, Molly began to speak.

"I found a letter. Fred and George wrote it to me, twenty-five years ago today. I had…I had shut down all of their plans, told them off for whatever they wanted. They sent me the trick paper they had been working on, charming some of the sentences in their voices. They had tried to make a really strong case for the joke shop, and in the middle, Fred asks Have I told you that I hate you recently? before they start in again about all the reasons I was being unreasonable and…" Molly shook, rubbing the fresh tears from her eyes. "It's been so long since I've been this way–weepy and inconsolable–but when I'm caught by surprise…" She trailed off, shaking her head. "All I can think about is what I would give to have Fred tell me anything again…even that he hated me. There was another tiny letter attached, apologizing for saying it. They were so good."

She turned and looked into Narcissa's eyes, and Narcissa felt as though she'd been struck by lightning. Her heart twisted as she thought of Draco and the beautiful little family he had created. The thought of not having them in her life would be too much for Narcissa to bear.

"I would give anything," Molly said in a strong voice, and Narcissa believed her.

Narcissa waited before she said anything, trying to think of anything she could say or do to lighten the load, but there was nothing. "I'm sorry I intruded on you. You probably didn't want to tell me any of that. I had just hoped to…keep you company, if you needed it."

Molly sighed. "Probably not. But I don't think any of the boys or Ginny could handle me in the middle of a work day when I'm–" she smiled a little, in spite of herself. "When I'm distressed and heartbroken and totally irrational."

"It's not irrational," Narcissa said immediately, and Molly looked up in surprise. "He is your son. Always."

Slowly, Molly nodded, and Narcissa couldn't help the words that came tumbling out next. "Molly, I'm sorry. So sorry. For—"

Molly stared at her for a long moment, but Narcissa couldn't find the words to continue; as if she understood, Molly shook her head, stalling any further speech. She straightened up from the counter, wiped her eyes with her handkerchief, and approached the doorway where Narcissa still stood. To Narcissa's surprise, Molly laid a hand on her arm, stopping briefly before opening the door.

"That's kind of you," she said softly.

And she moved past, leaving Narcissa alone until her feet were able to catch up with her thoughts. "Molly?" she asked, moving quickly to follow her.

Molly looked back at her.

"Would you like a cup of tea? We could–compare photographs of the grandchildren, or something like that..." She smiled slightly.

"Twelve to one, is that fair competition?" Molly asked, with a faint smile of her own.

"Only one way to find out."