Mrs Norris thought that her soft paws, pattering quietly, on cold marble felt almost as delicious as vanilla ice cream melting on a warm, languid tongue. Not that she was supposed to have tasted vanilla ice cream, of course; but she the temptation became too great, when she was out of Filtch's sight, and she often snuck down to the kitchens where she allowed the house elves to indulge her vices.
Tonight she was well fed, but the heat of the sweltering summer air had forced her to leave her comfortable bed, and go in search of a fresh breeze. She wagered across the vast expanse of the entrance hall, to the front door, with the air of a dominant huntress. After all, there were no humans around, the teachers and children were all asleep in bed. She had the whole place to herself.
It was much more pleasant outside. The ground radiated its heat back out into the cloudless sky, a silent retaliation of the Sun's invasive rays during the day, and a faint wind made music with the leaves of the forbidden forest. The weak glow of the new moon transmitted little light, but Mrs Norris didn't mind. Her eyes, long dilated pupils, were well suited for the dark.
She decided on taking an excursion to the Quidditch pitch. There would be mice there, she knew, as they liked to make their homes in the nooks and crannies of the benches. A little game of chase seemed to be an appealing way of spending the night.
As she drew closer to the stands, trampling over the tired grass and ignoring the moths that flew out in protest as she disturbed their rest, her ears pricked. Was that the sound of voices? Children were not allowed out of their dormitories this late.
Mrs Norris crept closer, as one would trap a bird, her belly touching the grass. She could see a girl and a boy. They sat close to each other, on the first row of the benches; the boy held his head in his hands, apparently in some sort of anguish, and the girl stared placidly into the distance. The boy, rather shabby in appearance, gave off an interesting smell; like that of a dog, but not quite.
---
"He asked you…didn't he," uttered Remus quietly, playing with a loose thread on the arm of his robe.
"And I said yes." Narcissa's manner was frosty, and practical. She let the words wash over him, giving them time to be acknowledged.
"Lucius has been good to me." She offered an explanation.
Remus looked up, searching her face. "But he doesn't love you." His voice quivered. No one can love you as much as I do.
There was a pause as she turned to face him, her eyes meeting his.
"I know," she said, smiling weakly, "you, are too good for me."
Remus rose from the bench and helped Narcissa to get up. Their hands, clasped, lingered briefly between them. Remus gave a sigh and turned towards the castle.
"I'll see you around."
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When all was quite Mrs Norris headed toward the stands, her ears searching for the telltale sounds of mice.