Author's Note:
Disclaimer: Filling in for Joanna (DobbyLovesSocks).
Written for the QL competition (round eight, puddles keeper : morsmordre)
15 August 2014. Word Count: 1,639
Summary: Narcissa's a wild-child partying her eighteenth at a Death Eater's concert. Non-magic AU.
Warning for excessive swearing and girly-ness because fluff is fucking pointless, so what the hell, why don't we push the limits of reality?
She swears to God that Lucius Malfoy made eye contact with her – and fucking winked – during his guitar solo in "Goblet of Fire".
Superstar
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"So . . ." Bree begins, her blue eyes alight with excitement. There's a slight pause after she speaks. The three girls scout out their usual spot on the memorial fountain at Piccadilly Circus and settle themselves down on the steps. Bree doesn't finish her sentence, so Gianna ends it for her.
"Here, bitch," Gianna smirks and tosses an envelope to the blonde girl sandwiched in between her and Bree. "Here's to you not being jailbait anymore."
"Tell me you didn't," Narcissa says breathlessly. She'd made short work of the envelope while Gianna had been talking; now, in her lap there's a shredded envelope and an opened card wishing her a happy birthday but her attention is focused solely on the three slips of paper inside the card.
Her two best friends grin wildly. "We so did."
Narcissa holds the three concert tickets up and excitedly eyes the date printed on them. "Holy fucking shit!" she screams and jumps up and down. "You got us tickets to see the Death Eaters!"
"At the Knockturn Alley Centre," Bree adds.
"On your birthday," Gianna Zabini ends Bree's thought. "Two more days, jailbait," she tells Narcissa with a shit-eating grin on her face. "Two more days until we're going to bleed green!"
Narcissa squeals. "Fucking A, bitches! I love you two so much right now, like, you don't even know."
"Scale from 1 to Lucius Malfoy?" Bree asks with a cheeky grin on her face.
Narrowing her eyes at the mention of the lead guitarist, Narcissa replies: "You fight dirty, Greengrass. You know that no one can come between me and my future husband."
"Heh. Tell that to the other thousands of screaming fangirls who're vying for his attention," Gianna snarks out.
"As a matter of fact, I will," Narcissa says snootily with her chin lifted. "WHEN WE SEE HIM LIVE IN CONCERT SUNDAY NIGHT!"
x
"Hello, London!" Tom Riddle wails into the microphone. The lead singer's voice is greeted by a screaming cacophony of fans belting out their love for him and the Death Eaters.
To get Narcissa's attention, Bree pops the strap of Narcisssa's fringed tank top imprinted with the Death Eater's logo, a skull with a serpent coming out of its mouth. Her eyes are wide as she gazes lovestruck up at the catwalk where Tom is having a one-sided conversation with the audience (it's not his fault that he's carrying the majority of the conversation; every time he so much as breathes, the crowd goes wild and drowns out his voice.) Narcissa grins madly and blows her best friend a kiss as she links arms with Bree and Gianna. The mosh pit is a mess of sweaty, gyrating bodies, and the concert has barely started.
The opening cover act, The Draught of Living Death, had done their job in spiking the crowd's mood with adrenaline and making them all scream their brains out as they played their chart-topping singles "Dementor's Kiss" and "Azkaban". The residual energy from their performance increases tenfold in the audience as all four Death Eaters take the stage. Narcissa swears that there is live electricity coursing through her veins and the marrow of her bones.
"Morsmordre!" Tom yells to the crowd as the bass drops behind him, thanks to the help of bass guitarist Yaxley who starts the opening riff to "Avada Kedavra".
Instantaneously, green smoke erupts from the fog machines onstage. The familiar image of a skull and a snake forms over the mosh pit and the stage lights blink in a dizzying palette of slithering green and a blinding silvery-white. The Jumbotron captures every second and displays it on the big screen, much to the crowd's delight.
Narcissa thinks she's screaming in appreciation but she's not entirely sure because her voice is blending in with the shouting approval of the audience. The stadium the concert is in, Knockturn Alley Centre, seats eighteen thousand – not including the couple hundred moshing about in the pit alongside the catwalk and the stage. She knows that this sold-out show is a last minute addition to the Death Eater's already-booked tour; she's still thanking every deity in the heavens above that Bree and Gianna snagged tickets.
Gianna's tugging Narcissa's arm – Narcissa looks over at the dark-haired girl but can't make out her friend's facial features since the flashy strobe lighting coupled with the slow-dissipating fog is blurring Gianna's expression. Narcissa thinks she sees Gianna's lips moving. She couldn't hear her own scream; how the hell did Gianna expect Narcissa to hear her?
Gianna rolls her eyes – this, Narcissa sees, for the lights catch the exasperated gleam in her bestie's irises – and elbows her way through the throng of jumping and screaming fans. Since Narcissa is linked to her and Bree is linked to Narcissa, the two girls find themselves being dragged behind their headstrong best friend.
They end up at the junction of the catwalk where it morphs into the stage. They're so close to their favourite indie rock band – if Narcissa sticks out her hands, they have the potential to be stepped on by Tom or Yaxley or even Lucius who's currently strutting down the catwalk and shredding it on the guitar.
This realisation makes her scream even harder.
And, of course, she sticks out her hands.
(She swears to God that Lucius Malfoy made eye contact with her – and fucking winked – during his guitar solo in "Goblet of Fire".)
x
"Where're we going?"she (tries to) scream-yell to her besties as they drag her out of the mosh pit. Her ears are ringing and Narcissa is pretty sure that her voice won't be returning for a few months – hell, perhaps even for a decade.
Barty, the drummer and fourth band member, had dismissed the audience for a half-hour intermission just a few minutes ago. The Draught of Living Death had taken the stage again, but even though Narcissa had protested ("Chamber of Secrets" is her anthem), Gianna and Bree had tugged her out of the mosh pit and were taking her God-only-knows-where.
When they're far enough away from the head-banging rock, Gianna and Bree share a smirk.
"So . . ." Bree begins.
"The concert tickets were Bree's contribution to your birthday present. Here's mine, bitch," Gianna says and tosses three slips of paper at Narcissa.
Narcissa is screaming and crying when she reads what Gianna had thrown at her. "Backstage passes?!"she's yelling out but it sounds more like a croak.
Bree is laughing and Gianna's wearing her infamous shit-eating grin and Narcissa is squeezing her besties into a group hug.
"For fuck's sake, jailbait," Gianna complains but she's pleased at Narcissa's reaction.
"M'not jailbait an'more," Narcissa slurs out as she points to her eighteen-year-old self before flopping back into the group hug.
"Yeah, it sounds like someone's already abusing her alcohol privileges. How many butterbeers have you had tonight?" Gianna asks.
"Firewhiskeys," Bree corrects.
Gianna sighs and shakes her head. "Dayum, girl. Well, we better hope you can hold your liquor – "
Narcissa tries to interrupt but Gianna talks over the birthday girl –
" – cos you're meeting the Death Eaters backstage in five minutes."
Immediately, Bree and Gianna shepherd Narcissa into the nearest loo and try to fix her make-up that she'd just ever-so-helpfully cried off in her excitement at receiving backstage passes. They spend the five minutes making the birthday girl look presentable and are fashionably late entering the roped off section leading towards the once-forbidden backstage.
Narcissa feels like she should hold her breath as she enters a fangirl's heaven.
"Ten minutes," the bouncer tells them. (At least, she thinks he's a bouncer. He's big and scary, so yeah. Definitely a bouncer.)
The three girls nod dutifully before looking at each other and silently freak out. Sitting in a lounge room in front of them are the four Death Eaters.
"Ladies," Tom greets them in a smooth voice. "Welcome. Do you need an introduction or . . . ?" His voice trails off delicately.
God, Narcissa thinks. Him and Bree are a match made in heaven.
"No use in wasting time," Gianna interjects. "We want the usual: pictures and autographs. But can we request a favour?"
The Death Eaters smirk at each other and shrug easily. Barty gestures for Gianna to ask away.
"It's Narcissa's eighteenth," Bree starts.
"So we were wondering if you would mind singing her happy birthday?" Gianna flutters her eyelashes.
Narcissa's mouth drops open and she tries to tell the Death Eaters that they don't have to if they don't want to but her voice won't cooperate –
"She lost her voice tonight," Bree states the obvious.
"Too much screaming at your songs," Gianna grins charmingly.
Lucius is the first to laugh, and the sound warms Narcissa's heart so much that she starts blushing. The Death Eaters make a semi-circle around Narcissa (Bree makes sure to mention that no one can come between Narcissa and her future husband; she doesn't say a specific name but the fact that Narcissa sneaks a glance at Lucius confirms everyone's suspicions). The Death Eaters sing a harmonised version of "Happy Birthday" (Gianna is busy recording their gorgeous bodies – er, voices – and her blushing bestie on her iPhone) and then each give Narcissa a kiss on her cheek at the end.
Narcissa's not one hundred percent sure, but she thinks that Lucius kissed closer to the corner of her mouth than her cheek.
x
(After the intermission, Lucius takes the crowd by surprise when he picks a lucky lady – one that he almost-kissed just fifteen minutes prior to the song – from the mosh pit to lead up on stage and serenade to during "Half-Blood Prince".
Five years and two rumoured tabloid break-ups later, Narcissa has a ring on her finger and can stop introducing him as her future husband.
And they all live happily ever after.)
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