-A/N: Hey everyone! So when I first wrote this story, I planned it to just a single one-shot. Now that I've caught the fanfiction bug, I want to write MORE! So now, this is going to be a collection of one-shots, focusing on the Slytherins that we know and love... or know and hate. Whatever! Welcome to my Slyther-shots!
Chapter 1: More Than Friends
Characters: Lucius x Narcissa
"…and so we, the pure, the sublime, the sacred, continue this rite…."
Narcissa Black felt her eyes begin to glaze over. Wizarding ceremonies were tedious at the best of times, but the exclusive rituals of the Sacred Twenty-Eight seemed even more torturous.
"… the fusion of natural and supernatural, the consolidation of all…"
A sharp nudge to her leg pulled Narcissa back into focus. She turned her head slightly to shoot a glare at the wizard sitting next to her. Lucius Malfoy continued to stare intently at the orator, but still Narcissa detected a slight quirk at the corners of his mouth. Throughout the previous summer months, they and a handful of other Pureblood wizards suffered nightly training sessions to prepare for this day. Between fighting to master the incantation's intonation and suffering sore arms from repetitive wand waving, she and Lucius had grown the type of bond that only misery can nurture. True, they had been in the same Hogwarts house over the past five years, but Narcissa always dismissed the Malfoy boy as, well, a bit lackluster. The most interesting thing about him was his habitually long, silver hair. Other than that, he seemed to tragically fulfill all of the drab demands of every Pureblood Conduct textbook.
She could easily pinpoint the first time she saw a crack in his solemn façade. It was a week after the young Purebloods were instructed to hold mandrake leaves under their tongues indefinitely. That night, Barnabus Flint made his way to each student, grabbing his or her jaw and checking to ensure the leaves were still whole and unbruised. Satisfied, the old wizard assured the students, "Only three more weeks until they've ripened for the potion. Until then, absolutely no cheating. The leaves stay in when you eat, when you sleep, when you anything."
At this announcement, Narcissa and the other Purebloods collectively groaned. Except, of course, Lucius. Since the start of these lessons, he had barely spoken to his peers, and treated every ridiculous task with the same air of gravity. Narcissa was delighted, however, to spy the slightest wrinkle in his nose while his lips were a-twist in, dare she suggest, disgust.
Sidling over to him at the end of the lesson, Narcissa whispered, "Of all the rituals to survive the centuries, why did it have to be one that included chewing on lawn clippings?"
Lucius started in surprise. He stiffly whispered back, "This tradition has saved the sanctity of the Twenty-Eight, and all wizard kind, dozens of times."
Narcissa rolled her eyes, "And how will the 'sanctity of the Twenty-Eight' help us if we're all sent to Azkaban?"
"The Ministry wouldn't dare to interfere with one of the oldest ceremonies in the wizarding world."
Narcissa shrugged a shoulder and chewed on the inside of her cheek, unsure of how to talk to the awkward wizard. He continued to stack his texts, then paused to check if there was anyone else around them before turning back to her. "To be honest, I'm not sure Azkaban would be worse than sucking these damned weeds," he muttered dryly.
After that, the two wizards fell into a pattern. She watched for cracks in his mask, then mercilessly teased him about it afterwards. Eventually, he did the same to her. She knew they were really friends the day he actually laughed when she threatened to hex him if he corrected her wrist position one more time.
And she knew that there was a chance that they might become more than friends last week, after their very last training session.
"It's kind of sad to that it's over, isn't it," he mused as the two of them wandered through Diagon Alley, Fortescue's never-melting ice cream cones in hand.
" 'For the sake of the Twenty-Eight, I agree', " Narcissa replied loftily, earning a grin from her friend. "I'm afraid it'll be a while before I'm able to say anything other than those phrases Flint drilled into our skulls," she added.
The two friends settled on a nearby bench, pushing aside the writhing mass of Snakelet Ivy to make room for themselves. He tried again, "You don't think you'll miss it?"
Narcissa snorted. "Miss what? Being busy every evening while we were supposed to be on summer vacation? Oh yes, I think I will miss that very much."
Instead of laughing at her joke, Narcissa was surprised when a frown flickered over his face. He picked up her free hand and held it in his own. "I'm being serious, Narcissa."
She jerked her head up sharply at the tone of his voice. His eyes seared into hers and all of her humor drained away, leaving her stomach in knots and cheeks blushing pink. "I suppose there were some… very nice parts," she mumbled, her eyes refusing to meet his and instead following his thumb as it traced circles on her own.
"Rise, Narcissa Orentea Black."
Snapping back to the present, Narcissa stiffly stood from her chair and approached the mirror beside the orator. Turning so her back was to the glass and she faced the table of the Twenty-Eight, Narcissa clasped her hands in front of her and bowed her head, letting her blonde hair fall over her shoulders. One of the wizards murmured a quiet weather charm, and soon the rumble of thunder could be felt under everyone's feet.
"Do you, bearer of blood most pure, swear to honour the lineage the stars saw fit to bestow upon you?"
"For the sake of the Twenty-Eight, I swear it."
The speaker handed the witch a small vial, filled with an inky black liquid. Narcissa quickly swallowed the contents and chose not to think about the mandrake that had marinated in her mouth for a month to create this particular potion.
"And do you agree to use this gift to preserve the legacy of your dynasty?"
"For the sake of the Twenty-Eight, I agree."
Satisfied, the speaker presented Narcissa with her own wand. She grasped the familiar instrument and, after exchanging a small shaky smile with Lucius, began the intricate spell. She began the motions very slowly, twirling and snapping her wrist with deliberation. The tip of her wand began to glow as she gained speed, until her hand moved in a blur. The white light flared so bright that she had to scrunch her eyes shut and continue the movements by muscle memory. Suddenly, the wand sent a shockwave of cold air through those gathered, and Narcissa called "Amato Animo Animato Animagus."
The room went black. After a heartbeat, the Twenty-Eight each whispered "Lumos," and the room was filled with soft light. As each witch and wizard held their wands aloft, they stared at Narcissa with wide eyes.
Narcissa drew a steadying breath, then turned around to face the mirror.
Instead of a delicate girl of 16, the mirror revealed a sleek red fox. Narcissa thought she had prepared herself for this moment—the witch had produced a corporeal patronus as part of her training, and she knew that her animagus form would likely be the same animal. Nothing, however, could prepare her for the sharpness of her vision, the sensitivity of her hearing, and the strange sensation of whiskers vibrating around her nose.
Quickly changing back to her wizard form, Narcissa bowed once more to the Twenty-Eight, then took her seat.
"Rise, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy,"
Narcissa watched as Lucius repeated the process, anticipating his transformation. His cobra patronus always frightened her, but she supposed that since it was just Lucius, she would have to get used to it.
Once again, the room went dark, and Narcissa hurriedly searched the folds of her dress for her wand.
Rather than the still silence that had accompanied her own transformation, whispers circled the table as Lucius came in to view. "Interesting," one of the old wizards murmured, and Narcissa heard her own father, seated at the far end of the group, try to cover a chuckle in a cough.
Finally finding her wand, Narcissa produced a light and looked at her friend. Rather than a thick cobra, a red fox hunched on all fours, staring at itself in the mirror. The young wizard hastily changed back, and even in the dim light, Narcissa could see his face flaming red in embarrassment. Definitely more than friends, she thought to herself, and she threaded her fingers through his when he returned to her side.
