AN: For QLFC Season 7, Round 2. Keeper: Write about a character(s) who thrives in luxury and decadence having to live a minimalist life.
A Little Comfort
AlwaysPadfoot
Narcissa felt sick with fear.
What would she do now that her father had cast her out from the family? She was young — not even out of Hogwarts yet. It was the Christmas of her seventh year and she had no home, nowhere to go. She didn't know herself any longer.
She kept going over what had happened in her mind.
A bastard child. Her father had spat it with such venom that Narcissa had winced. Maybe, if she had shown more defiance, then her father would have seen sense. It was a useless thought; her father was nothing if not stubborn. Once he made a decision there was no changing his mind. Narcissa had just dazedly collected her essential belongings, shrunk them, and walked away from the house.
She'd been walking for hours, unable to gather her thoughts before they spiralled again into something else, wishing she knew what to do. It was nearly seven in the evening when it finally got too cold for her to stay outside.
Where could she go?
She couldn't be homeless. If she went to the Ministry they'd accommodate her in some awful temporary housing that wasn't fit for a house elf, let alone a witch of her standing.
But then, what was her standing?
If her father had his way, she would be blasted from the tapestry that spanned the history of the noble house of Black. Then she really would have nothing — no money, no support, nowhere to call home.
The thought of being unable to access whatever she needed made her stomach turn.
With no home to go to, and with the idea of dingy temporary accommodation growing more abjectly horrifying by the second, she only had one choice.
She would have to return to Hogwarts — despite the mortification she would face upon her arrival.
When she was finally sure that she was not going to splinch herself, Narcissa apparated to Hogsmeade.
The cobbled streets of Hogsmeade were thick with snow; large flakes still slowly drifting down through the winter air. Narcissa pulled her robes closer to her body and cast a Lumos Charm to illuminate her path. Over a foot of snow lay on the ground, soaking her shoes and the bottom of her robes by the time she noticed the comforting glow of the Three Broomsticks ahead of her.
Returning to Hogwarts would be admitting she had nothing; Narcissa was not in the right mindset to do that just yet. Her feet had been on automatic, heading in the direction of the castle, but perhaps she could clear her head with a drink.
The wall of warmth that hit her when she opened the pub door made Narcissa almost want to melt into the faded chair by the fireplace. The heat wrapped around her as she stepped into the warmly lit pub and closed the door firmly behind her. Quickly casting a warming spell on her shoes and robes, she veered left towards the end of the bar away from the group of brutish-looking men playing cards at a nearby table. She sat on the very edge of the end barstool, closest to the fireplace.
Admittedly, Narcissa had never really been a fan of The Three Broomsticks. It was far too common and just a little too grimy for her taste.
Using the bar to steady herself when she shifted, Narcissa immediately recoiled. The wooden countertop was sticky where she had placed her hand. Pressing her lips together, Narcissa reluctantly looked up to search out a member of the bar staff.
Her eyes fell on a girl a few feet away, drying glasses. The girl felt familiar, but it wasn't until she noticed the tattoo of a daisy behind the girls ear that she realised who she was.
"Rosmerta?" Narcissa asked aloud, rather than in her head as she had intended.
Rosmerta was a Hufflepuff in Narcissa's year at Hogwarts. They had shared some classes in the past, and just the one — Potions — now. She'd had no idea that Rosmerta worked here.
The barmaid turned and arched an eyebrow, face filled with curiosity.
"Narcissa Black?"
Narcissa nodded, wondering whether she could even use that as her name any longer.
To her surprise, Rosmerta beamed, crossing over to her with a glass and dishcloth in hand. "Butterbeer? On the house — you look frozen."
"Oh," stammered Narcissa, "you don't have too."
Rosmerta waved her hand and filled a glass up with butterbeer for her anyway, placing it on the bar. Narcissa thanked her quietly.
It was hard to ignore the smudge on the edge of the glass that her family never would have stood for. Even so, Narcissa delicately took the glass feeling more grateful for someone than she had been in years. Yes, she was uncomfortable. Yes, she knew she would have to have a long shower to feel clean again, but at least Rosmerta was pretending not to notice her clear discomfort.
The barmaid asked her why she was here and not at home and Narcissa chose to pass on the truth, explaining that she had simply had an argument with one of her older sisters. The two exchanged some small talk afterwards; Rosmerta explained that this was her first job — a job easy to get when your father owned the pub.
Narcissa was actually enjoying her company and conversation.
Rosmerta had always come across as loud and confident, perhaps a tad eccentric, but this felt easy. She was, however, easily distracted from Rosmerta by a group of loud voices entering the pub
"Anyone who says he's been eaten by a wolf is a liar," a familiar voice said, causing Narcissa to frown.
It was followed by an even more familiar voice, her Gryffindor cousin, Sirius'. "Bloody hell, Prongs, it's fucking freezing."
Narcissa swore under her breath and Rosmerta shot her an inquisitive look.
"Sorry. The last person I want to see right now is my cousin," Narcissa explained.
Rosmerta appeared to think for a short second and then reached into her pocket, holding out a key to her. "Go through that door on the left, up the stairs. The first door on the right is my room — you can hide up there."
Narcissa blinked, shocked that Rosmerta was offering help of her own free will. Did she want something in return?
"No catch, Narcissa, just go before I have to ward off your cousin's awful flirting." she grinned.
Narcissa whispered another 'thank you', took the key and made a beeline for the door, narrowly avoiding the attention of her cousin. On the other side of the door, she sighed with relief. She was smiling — Narcissa couldn't quite understand why the Hufflepuff had decided to help, but she was extremely thankful she had.
Following Rosmerta's instructions, Narcissa found her room and pushed the door open cautiously.
"You can't hide forever," Narcissa told herself firmly, as she waved her wand to light the main lamps.
As the room was illuminated, Narcissa sucked in a sharp breath. Rosmerta apparently lived in a box-sized room and there were clothes strewn everywhere. It was as though a gust of wind had blown through the room from the cupboard and scattered them all over the place.
There were more items on the floor than in the open wardrobe.
Taking a few even breaths, Narcissa waved her wand and cleared up the best she could. It made her feel a whole lot less like something was sitting on her chest. And, she guessed, she'd helped Rosmerta and sort of returned the favour.
It wasn't perfect.
But for now, it would do.