A.N. Ok, so this is story numero uno. I hope that it's not as terrible as I think it is, but oh well.
Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Any characters, situations, events, etc. below that you recognize belong to J.K. Rowling. If only I were cool enough to have come up with them first...
Narcissa chatters incessantly while pacing the room, reliving some event that she felt was necessary to share. When she reaches the part about some poor girl who "tripped and fell down the stairs," Narcissa cackles with delight at her misfortune.
You do not smile.
Her grin fades slightly, perturbed and slightly hurt that you do not partake in the once shared enjoyment you two had: making fun of those lesser than you. But something has changed, something that can not be explained to little Narcissa, no matter how much you want to scream it from the rooftops.
Narcissa smoothes her skirt (she really does look lovely, like a perfect china doll), and reminds you that the "very important guests" will be here soon, and you need to be ready. "After all", she says, "This is an important night". Once again her lips curl upwards, happy knowing that you are to soon be married off to the son of these "very important guests," and your life will be perfect.
You do not smile.
Narcissa begins to grow suspicious; after all you have said nothing since she entered the room. However, before she can say anything, you cut across her unspoken thought, telling her that you will be ready when necessary. However, could she possibly exit the room so you may finish preparing for dinner?
She nods, her eyes still withholding that suspicion, but you can't explain what is troubling you, no matter how much you wish you could.
Narcissa tries one more time before she leaves. In a tone bordering on a silent plea for a response, she mentions once again how perfect your life shall be after tonight.
It doesn't work. You do not smile.
She leaves now, troubled. But you can't focus on Narcissa and her simplistic ideals of what it means to be happy. Instead, your eyes drift to the opposite side of the room, where your Hogwarts trunk sits. Your family believes it to be unpacked, because you have just finished your seventh year, but this is a wrong assumption. The trunk is in fact fully packed, not with quills and spellbooks, but with clothes, personal tokens, and a bag full of coins that she withdrew from Gringotts earlier today. It had taken some persuading of your mother to have her allow you to travel to Diagon Alley by yourself, but you had accomplished it.
Staring at the trunk for too long causes a lump to form in your throat and an unpleasant pricking sensation behind your eyes to form, so you cast your gaze away from the trunk. Instead, your vision falls upon your reflection large and ornate mirror on the opposite wall. Your chocolate hair tumbles down your shoulders in messy waves and your face is pale without the aid of makeup. You know that you need to style your hair and decorate your face for tonight, but suddenly his voice comes to mind, and how he told you that you are beautiful all of the time.
That sensation behind your eyes starts up again, so you shove the memory away and get ready. You slip into the dress, do your hair and apply your makeup exactly as you have been taught. All of this is done without thinking (its so much easier that way) and when you finish, you stare at your reflection again, knowing that you look pretty and how this knowledge would have once made you very happy.
Now, however, you do not smile.
Dinner progresses with you saying nothing, letting the adults (well, mostly the men) discuss politics and money. You pick at the food on your plate. Once, you mistakenly looked up into the cold, grey eyes of the blonde man who is to be your husband. He grins at the eye contact, although you can pick out the maliciousness behind the grin.
You do not smile back.
Narcissa touches her foot to your leg at one point of the dinner, like you two had done for years. With that touch comes her silent question of "Are you alright?" You nod imperceptibly, but Narcissa sees it and smiles slightly.
It was a lie. You are not alright, and you do not smile back.
Suddenly, the discussion of the men veers towards blood purity and your attention is drawn unwillingly to the words that are being tossed back and forth.
"Mudbloods in the Ministry...what a shame..."
"...the need to purify the wizarding race..."
"Disgusting creatures..."
Your vision clouds around the edges, turning a hazy red. You want to yell and scream at them, tell them how wrong they are. How he is not disgusting, not stupid. How he his the best thing that has ever happened to you, and you hate them for their inability to see that.
Suddenly, your vision clears. The epiphany brought on by your anger has made answered the question that you have grappled with all night. The fear is gone, replaced by a calmness of knowing what to do.
Your chair scrapes along the floor as you push it back and stand up, looking at nobody and nothing but the future. Your name falls from the lips of those at the table, asking you what you are doing, what is wrong, where are you going...
In a blur of motion, you are in your room, staring once again at that trunk. No lump in your throat now, no pricking of the eyes. You grab the trunk by the handle, and turn on the spot, your past melting away as your future forms itself around you.
You're standing on a little pathway that leads to a small cottage. Smoke is curling out of the chimney flowers adorn the boxes under the windows. The night sky is dark. For a moment, you search for the constellations that you can name by heart, but they cannot be found. The only light comes from the warm glow that spills from the windows of the little cottage. Suddenly, you see a figure come to the window. He sees you outside, and presses closer to the glass to discern who it is. You hear the loud yell of surprise and ecstasy when the figure realizes who you are.
And suddenly, against all odds, you smile.
A.N. Review if you feel like it. If not, that's cool. I'll be honest, I don't review all stories I read (Just don't have time or patience) but if you do, that's really nice of you and I will appreciate it.