The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition- Round 1
Team: Falmouth Falcons
Author: MaryRoyale
Position: Beater #2
Prompts Used: Mirror, Brush, and Leaving
Title: Moving thro' a Mirror Clear
Official Disclaimer: The original characters of this story are the property of the J.K. Rowling. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended. It is my contention that this work of fan fiction is fair use under copyright law. No monies were received for receipt of this work.
Pairing: Marvolo Gaunt/Narcissa Malfoy (romantic)
Rating: T
Word Count: approx. 2400
A/N: Marvolo Gaunt was born c. 1860 and died c. 1926. Narcissa Black was born in 1955. Time travel was sort of required. The title comes from a line from "The Lady of Shallot" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson who was a rather good poet… for a Muggle.
/\/\/\/\
I'm sorry.
There was no name, but Narcissa would recognize that elegant script anywhere. Only Andromeda had such a fine hand. She lifted the thick, creamy vellum paper and inhaled. A faint whiff of lemon verbena rose off of the paper and Andromeda's favourite scent drifted toward her. Narcissa's long lashes fluttered, sweeping against her cheeks in a way that her mother had commented on more than once as being attractive in a young witch of her breeding. Several tears slipped down her pale cheeks and Narcissa scrubbed at her cheeks with the palms of her hands. She snatched again at the thick vellum paper and started ripping it into tiny pieces. She paused in the middle of shredding the paper and searched around for her wand. What was she doing, ripping up paper like a Muggle? She would never lower herself to the level of that…that…mudblood who had stolen Andromeda from her. She was a witch and what was more she was a Black!
"Incendio! Incendio! Incendio!" Narcissa screamed and pointed her wand at the small scraps of the note.
"Cissy?" Bellatrix stood in her bedroom doorway watching her with a slightly surprised expression on her face.
Narcissa whirled on her eldest sister and glared at her tears trembling on her lashes. "How could she? How could she do this to us?"
"She was selfish," Bellatrix replied in a cold, hard voice an unpleasant glint in her eyes. Then she smiled coolly at Narcissa. "Mother asked me to come fetch you, Cissy. She and Father have news."
/\/\/\
The last few years of Hogwarts had become strange in more ways than one, and some of Narcissa's classmates had carried themselves differently; they made her nervous with their cold eyes and their hard smiles and the cool way they watched some of their fellow students. There was nothing wrong with being ruthless and vicious—she was a Black after all—but there was something… off about these particular students. Lucius Malfoy had been one of those students that had grown almost predatory. He was friendly with the LeStranges and hung out with Bella's group of friends. Narcissa didn't like the way he watched her as though she were some sort of valuable prize… a bauble as though she had no inherent worth in and of herself.
Mother and Father had been smugly pleased when they informed Narcissa that Lucius had offered for her. Malfoy was a good family, one of the sacred 28, and Narcissa should be pleased at an alliance between two such auspicious houses. Funnily enough, Narcissa didn't feel pleased at all. She certainly hadn't enjoyed taking turn with Lucius through the garden. He didn't seem to care for her at all. He certainly didn't care about what she thought or what she had to say. His slender fingers had gripped her elbow tightly and she wanted nothing more than to jerk her elbow from his grasp.
Whenever Narcissa wished to be truly alone without fear of interruption from her sisters or her parents she had snuck up to the attic. Tucked away in a forgotten corner amongst dusty furniture covered in protective sheets and layered in house elf magic to keep away magical pests was a beautiful vanity in a style of some forgotten century. When she had been small her favourite part of the vanity had been the mirror. It was made of old glass and had slight ripples in it. Ornate gilt work surrounded the mirror giving it a certain touch that had made a young Cissy Black feel like a princess as she sat perched on the faded velvet seat.
Now an older, slightly more cynical Narcissa plopped down into the faded velvet seat and stared sullenly into the mirror. She didn't feel like a princess at the moment, she felt more like a prisoner in her own home. She couldn't stand the gloating faces of her parents or Bella any longer. She felt cold every time Lucius brushed his lips against the back of her hand. She didn't want to be Narcissa Malfoy.
"Does Little Missy want Jinx to brush her hair?" A soft, timid voice asked from the vicinity of Narcissa's elbow.
"That would be lovely Jinx, thank you," Narcissa replied.
Narcissa relaxed completely and allowed Jinx to unbind her long, blonde hair and pull the brush through it in even strokes. The bristles rubbed against her scalp soothingly and she found herself blinking sleepily as she watched Jinx in the mirror. She jerked awake and stared at the rippled surface of the mirror.
"Jinx did you see that?" Narcissa whispered.
Within the mirror's reflection there was a curtain fluttering in the wind. Narcissa turned sharply in her seat and peered into the depths of the attic. There were no windows up here let alone curtains. Narcissa turned back to the mirror and stared at the fluttering curtain.
"Jinx sees Little Missy," Jinx whispered her green eyes even wider than normal.
"What does it mean, Jinx?" Narcissa whispered back.
"Jinx can't say, Little Missy."
/\/\/\
As the days passed, Narcissa crept off to the attic more and more often. She stared into the mirror for hours on end, her fingers caressing the ripples in the glass as she squinted into the depths of its unyielding surface. Jinx often joined her because she was assigned to Narcissa and Irma Black was of the firm opinion that a house elf ought to anticipate its master's or mistress' needs.
"Little Missy is very sad," Jinx said softly one day and then looked horrified as though she wished she could take it back. "Jinx begs Little Missy's pardon. Jinx is sorry!"
"No, you're right," Narcissa said with a little flip of her hand that meant that Jinx could stop speaking.
Jinx stood patiently in the dusty attic and watched Narcissa watching the mirror.
"Do you know what would make me happy?" Narcissa asked with an air of wistfulness as she leaned across the table of the vanity.
"What Little Missy?" Jinx asked.
"To leave all of this behind," Narcissa told her house elf. She waved a languid hand with perfectly manicured nails in a manner that was meant to encompass all of Black Manor with its responsibilities and duties.
"Little Missy is leaving?" Jinx's eyes had become impossibly large again and Narcissa sighed heavily.
"No, I'm not leaving," Narcissa muttered. She gave a dry, bitter laugh. "Where would I go Jinx?"
"Where would Little Missy like to go?" Jinx whispered.
The curtains fluttered coyly in the mirror, teasing Narcissa's curiosity in a way that nothing else ever had before.
"Do you suppose it's nice there?" Narcissa asked.
"It is different," Jinx said with a shrug.
Narcissa blinked and then turned to stare at her house elf. "It's real? That's a real place?"
"Yes Little Missy," Jinx replied.
"I want to go there," Narcissa said with a sense of determination.
"Are you sure Little Missy?" Jinx looked doubtful. "If Little Missy goes there Little Missy can't return."
"I'm sure," Narcissa said firmly. "I want to leave. I don't want to marry Lucius. I don't want to be Narcissa Malfoy."
"Very well Little Missy," Jinx said and snapped her fingers.
"Jinx! What do you mean—" Narcissa stopped speaking and gaped at the mirror.
A dusty attic was pictured and Jinx stood among the sheet-covered settees and wingback chairs shifting nervously from foot to foot. She waved hesitantly at Narcissa and then snapped her fingers again. Narcissa was staring at her own reflection, but she appeared to be in the room that the mirror had shown. She whirled around in surprise to see the window with its fluttering curtain. She raced to the window and peered out the window. She appeared to be in a large house on a hill. She frowned slightly to herself and backed away from the window. What had she done?
"Who are you?"
Narcissa whirled in surprise at the sound of the arrogant, aristocratic voice and it was only years of training that kept her jaw from dropping. A young wizard stood there in elegantly done acromantula-silk robes. He had a haughty sneer to his full lips and an arrogant cast to his face, but for Narcissa that only made him more attractive. Father said time and time again that a wizard ought to know his worth and so should everyone around him.
"Narcissa Black," she replied and tossed her head with arrogant grace.
The young man eyed her appraisingly and his lips curled slightly. He gave her a polite bow.
"Marvolo Gaunt, at your service," he said.
"Oh," Narcissa gasped her eyes wide.
"What?" Marvolo demanded.
Narcissa made a calming motion. "I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but where I come from you've been dead for fifty years."
/\/\/\
Marvolo's grandfather, Corvinus Gaunt, was fascinated with Narcissa's story about coming through the mirror and the house elf's assurance that it was a one-way trip. He eyed her soft, well-manicured hands and her perfectly coiffed hair. It was rather obvious that the girl was a Black. They were nearly as arrogant as the Gaunts about their lineage and that was saying something. The proper thing to do would be to contact the Black family. They were all wizards and witches after all and occasionally little anomalies like this happened. Still Corvinus couldn't help the little thread of possessiveness that seemed to tighten in his chest as he watched Narcissa's pale blonde head bowed toward Marvolo's dark head. Not possessive for himself—Merlin no—but for his grandson… for his family… yes. So he watched the two young people talking and when Narcissa tossed back her blonde hair exposing her slim throat as she laughed he smiled to himself.
"Grandfather," Marvolo began several weeks later.
Corvinus Gaunt smiled benevolently on his favourite grandson. "Yes Marvolo?"
"I understand that blood purity is important," Marvolo continued carefully.
Corvinus nodded gravely. "The most important thing in our world is the protection of our blood and our magic."
"I know sir," Marvolo agreed. "And I know that Father wanted me to marry cousin Medea, but the Ancient and Noble House of Black is just as pure as ours isn't it? I mean, I know they don't have the blood of Salazar Slytherin or the Peverells, but they're a very old family."
"They are indeed," Corvinus said in a slow, thoughtful voice as though this had never occurred to him before.
"And…cousin Medea isn't very pretty," Marvolo added and then flushed with embarrassment.
Marvolo knew that whether or not Medea was pretty didn't even matter. What mattered was that her bloodlines were just as pure as his. The fact that Medea was a little simple-minded and rather plain shouldn't stop a wizard from doing his duty to his family. Then why did his thoughts keep drifting to the slender, pretty witch that had come to live with them. Narcissa Black's laughter made him feel warm inside. Her soft grey eyes fixed on his face with perfect trust made him feel as though he could accomplish anything.
Corvinus surprised his grandson by chuckling. "No, Medea isn't much to look at, is she? The poor thing barely knows one end of her wand from the other."
Neither of them mentioned the fact that none of Ollivander's wands would choose her and Medea had to make do with a hand-me-down wand.
"Perhaps it might be better if we… if I… married someone who was just as much a pureblood, but maybe had a bit more magic?" Marvolo ventured uncertainly.
"That might be for the best," Corvinus agreed. He paused and looked thoughtfully at his grandson. "What about the witch? Will she agree?"
"I think she likes me grandfather," Marvolo murmured and blushed.
"Ah." Corvinus clapped a hand on his grandson's shoulder. "Perhaps we ought to speak to your Father?"
/\/\/\
It surprised everyone when Medea Gaunt understood that Marvolo was slipping through her fingers; they honestly hadn't thought that she would care one way or the other. Medea managed to throw a rather spectacular magical temper tantrum as she insisted at the top of her lungs that Marvolo was hers. Narcissa had impressed the entire Gaunt family with her calm, cool demeanour in the face of a shrieking hysterical Medea. Corvinus was rather more impressed when his granddaughter wound up dead in the pond on Gaunt property. Young Narcissa appeared sad and sympathetic to Medea's parents, but Corvinus spied the steely determination in those grey eyes and smiled.
Narcissa Black and Marvolo Gaunt were wed in June of 1878. The bride was radiant in flowing witch's robes designed to flatter her figure. The groom blushed when it came time to kiss his bride, but when he lifted his head a triumphant light was in his eyes.
Several years later when Marvolo's father had gambled away most of the Gaunt fortune Corvinus was not at all surprised when his son choked to death in the middle of a dinner party. He was getting on years, but he was still just as sharp as he used to be. He caught the eye of his very pregnant granddaughter-in-law Narcissa Gaunt at the funeral and gave her an approving nod. She looked startled, but then she curtseyed as deeply to him as her condition allowed.
If Marvolo had bothered to ask his grandfather's opinion, Corvinus would have told him to ignore the threats of that jumped-up Muggle Riddle. There was no way Marvolo's pretty little wife was going to allow anyone to threaten her son Cadmus' inheritance. The entire Riddle family was wiped out by some sort of Muggle disease and due to a strange little clause that Marvolo's wife had insisted upon in the deed to the Gaunt family property, the big house on the hill reverted back to the Gaunts.
"Marvolo darling," Narcissa said one morning when Marvolo was reading the paper.
"Yes dear?" Marvolo looked up and peered across the table at his wife.
"Are you happy? I mean… instead of marrying Medea?" Narcissa asked curiously.
Even after years of marriage, Narcissa was still beautiful. Her thick blonde hair was twisted up into an elegant chignon and she was dressed in a flattering morning gown. He glanced down the table at their four children: Cadmus, Corvinus, Medea and Circe. None of his children were simple-minded like his cousin Medea had been and none of his children were near squibs as she had been. All of them were healthy, magically strong and well-adjusted little wizards and witches. All four of his children had been accepted into Slytherin, as he and Narcissa had expected. Even though it didn't matter at all, Marvolo was pleased to note that all of his children were beautiful and took after their mother a great deal. He smiled across the table at her.
"More than I ever thought I could be, Narcissa," he told her.
She smiled a secret little smile at him. "I am as well."