Dreaming With A Broken Heart
Chapter One: The Middle Year
By: Rowan Cross
"What are you looking for, hm?" My mother pulled my hair, forcing my face back towards the mirror. Although I'd been glancing out the window, which viewed the expansive grounds, every few minutes, I'd thought she didn't notice. That was foolish on my part; Mother did not miss anything.
"No one," I answered coldly, with the air of superiority that I knew was maddening to her.
Her grip tightened on my hair and she said softly, "I don't recall asking you whom you were looking for." Gently, with my own hands, I urged her to let go of my hair. She relented and busied herself lacing up my corset, "Who have you invited, Narcissa? You've never been so excited to see your cousins and our family friends."
"Just a friend from school."
"A Slytherin?"
"Yes."
"A pureblood?" I did not answer, simply downcast my eyes to the orient carpeting. It had seemed like a good idea at school to invite him to my seventeenth birthday party. Of course, it was easy to be strong at school, "Did you invite a Mudblood to my house?"
"It's not your house," I said under my breath. My mother's grey eyes smoldered in the mirror, but she didn't say anything or lift her hand against me. Father had taught her long ago that though she may be heavy handed with my sisters, I was strictly off limits. We looked alike, her and I, with our light hair and soft white skin, though I had my father's icy, impenetrable blue eyes.
"You've gained weight," was her reply as she tugged the laces as tight as they would go without the whalebone breaking anything. I would have let out an exasperated sigh if it was worth the effort. My sisters were both naturally tall and thin, but I was curvy and being the weight my mother deemed proper made me look sickly...or, so I'd been told.
Within thirty minutes I was in a grey dress with matching slippers, and I had managed to rid myself of my mother's presence. This had been particularly easy since Cousin Sirius had just arrived and Mother had not put up all the heirlooms that Sirius' clumsy fingers seemed attracted to. I stood in front of the full length mirror and gave myself a once over; it bunched up slightly at the waist and was too loose up top and made me look frumpy.
"That is the ugliest dress I've ever seen. Even you can't pull it off." Bellatrix flounced across the room in a slinky, black number that made her look for all the world like an ancient war goddess. She wore jewelry that should have jangled when she walked, but it remained conspicuously silent.
"Mother says she wore it to her Middle Year Party." I said indifferently, referring to the birthday of a witch or wizard's seventeenth year, when they were between adulthood and childhood.
"It's certainly old enough." We shared a smile, Bellatrix was great at times like these; when nothing serious was involved and the target of her idle anger was someone else. "How odd that she didn't care enough about her oldest daughter to let her wear that dress, if she's so nostalgic. I wore a black, silk dress with green accents."
She draped her arm around my shoulder so that we were both visible in the mirror and held her face close to mine. Her face exuded an innocence that was unlike the one that graced me in those days. It was an innocence that came with having no understanding of adult concepts, "Of course it got ruined when I shagged Timothy Montague in the kitchen pantry. I think we frightened the house elves."
A horrified laugh escaped my mouth and I shook my head at my sister, my soft blonde rolling over my shoulders. We both stretched out on the bed, me with some difficulty. "Well, I think mine will be a little less eventful."
"I don't know," her hooded eyes seemed lively, "Mother invited Lucius Malfoy, he's had his eye on you since your third year."
"Bella, he's ten years older than me. Besides, I've seen the girls he gets involved with, I wouldn't touch him with a fifty foot pole."
Although the expression on her face was nearly gleeful, Bella made a noise and said, "You better not let Mother hear you talking like that. Malfoy could take care of you, unlike the types you hang around with now. You should really think about it, you'd have run of the house because he'd always be gone, all that money, all those connections."
I looked at her out of the corner of my eye, her eyes were closed and her chest was rising and falling slowly. "What are you up to?"
She rolled over on her side to face me and with a devious smile said, "I heard him talking to Mother and Father. He was asking for their permission to court you."
I wasn't overtly concerned, and I told her so, "Father would never allow it. Malfoy is a pretty face, his dream is to have all his daughters marry scholars. Why, he's more likely to let me marry someone..like..." She tapered off from the dark look her sister was giving her.
"A few years ago you would have been happy that Malfoy even took an interest in you, being the youngest sister of the Black line, especially since Grandfather Pollux gave a majority of the inheritance to Aunt Walburga's side of the family." I didn't move, or reply, because she was right. When I was a child, I had planned my wedding and even throughout my adolescent I had dreamt of my "knight in shining armor" taking me away from here. Now...well, I could scarcely imagine myself as someone's wife or mother. It was dangerous territory for a pureblood girl. Bella concluded, "You've changed."
"Yes, thank Merlin for that," I said under my breath, struggling to my feet.
"Well, in that case, you best make Mother thing you favor him."
"As usual, your unique brand of logic is lost on me, dear sister."
"Narcissa, do you really think Mother will do anything that makes you happy?"
"Now, wait a minute. I know we don't always get along..."
"She's madly jealous of you. The way she sees it, you've stolen from her," I open my mouth to protest, but she went on, "Her beauty and youth, Father's attention, the family inheritance. And it drives her mad to see you happy. Reverse psychology, you see."
In those days, Bella's insanity hadn't been as obvious. Our parents had demanded a certain level of refinement from their three girls. I often think that's why when she was liberated by the Death Eaters, it was such a bloody affair. Eventually my sister, who was a textbook case of a sociopath, would have snapped. The Death Eaters had simply been a convenient catalyst to the process, advocating a belief she had grown up with, therefore making it acceptable.
"Well," I rummaged through the ivory wardrobe in search of...ah-ha! I held up the long piece of silver fabric and wrapped it around my waist and conveniently covered the extra fabric and turning it into an empire waist dress, "why doesn't he want to marry you? You're his age and...his type."
"Don't worry about my affairs, little sister," but her eyes gleamed with conspiracy, the type of comradeship that only two Blacks can share. Before I could answer, though, Mother's shrill voice sounded up the stairs, calling me down to greet the guests as was customary.
A few close relatives were already congregated in the foyer, the only ones that the airs did not have to be put on for. Mother was talking quietly with Aunt Walburga who had little Reggie, my youngest cousin (whom I knew by name, that is), hiding behind her skirt, even though he was a tad too old at eight for such behavior. I caught only a snippet of the conversation, "–only bring two, but I keep forgetting about what happened with Andromeda."
Mother stiffened at the mention of her middle child. I looked at the two women, without announcing my presence; watching was a skill I'd learned from Severus, and learned it well. They could be sisters, Walburga and Druella Black. Both of them had cold, calculating grey eyes and were tall, willowy looking women. Though their hair was black and blonde, respectively, they both, as opposed to growing gray, had simply lessened in the intensity of color. Yes, the Black family was a fountain of youth, perhaps since they all die so young. My aunt had none of the beauty that my Mother possessed; her skin was sallow and her face was pinched looking.
There was hatred there, though. Walburga claimed that Druella was not a 'true' Black, for her blood did not run with theirs. "You should be a Black to marry a Black," she would always say. And though there was little love between Mother and I, her attacks along these lines was a claim that my blood, as well, must be dirty. The idea sent a little shiver of fear through me, a desperate feeling that my whole life was based on a lie. So, like a Black ironically, I fought back against her.
"Oh, Aunt Walburga!" I allowed delight to overcome my features, pitching my voice just right, and widening my eyes to the epitome of innocence, "How is Cousin Sirius?"
"Oh, yes," her voice dripped with contempt and haughtiness. I smiled as I took my leave, knowing my work was done here. Mother could not bring up such a nasty topic, she was more refined than my aunt, but I was young, too young to understand the can of worms I was opening. Apparently. I heard the rest of the sentence as I continued to the door, taking my place close to the entrance, "how is our little Gryffindor prince?"
One thing you must understand is that...how shall I explain this? It's like a Muggle wedding; in the way that its not intended for the person who is being married (or coming of age), but for their relatives and the occasional friends. Father, I knew, was using the party to conduct business, and Mother to improve her status in our family. People questioned her use now that she had passed her baby-making years, without producing an heir at that.
First the older generation arrived in their tailored robes and coiled hair, bearing gifts in the form family heirlooms which Mother quickly took, storing them away or displaying them.
Generally, next came Father's business associates, idly pushing a galleon or two into my hand, as they had when I was a small child. I don't think they were really sure what this party was for exactly, or even knew which daughter I was. These coins went to my personal house elf Tibby (whom I affectionately called Bebe) who took them away. She was a stately little elf with large, mossy eyes and a straight, pointed nose. As a child, I'd often joked that she must be a pureblood house elf, judging from the way she carried herself.
Then came the younger crowd, people scarcely older than me. Their liberal ideas were present in their speech and clothes; short robes, short hair, with the smell of Muggle cigarettes and liquor on them. From them I received books (which I gave to Severus) that I could never possibly attempt, and clothes that I wasn't sure how to put on and those went to the more knowledgeable girls from my dorm.
Finally there were those that were somewhere in-between, mostly young mothers and their husbands, always late because of a last minute changing or feeding. Their gifts were that of practicality; fine clothes, everyday jewelry, "how to" books, and small decorative items. After touching a multitude of swollen stomachs and cooing and numerous babies, I was growing irritable. I was wilting in the heat, my powder growing moist and caking to my skin and a fine line of perspiration appearing at my waistband and underneath the corset. That and Severus had not yet arrived and I was rather mortified of being stood up at my own birthday party especially, and I cringe later at this thought, by him.
There was a noise outside, the beating of hoofs and I edged toward the door, along with many other guests. A grand carriage was rolling up their rounded driveway, pulled by a pair of Pegasus and accented in gold and silver. A murmur ran through the crowd and I leaned against the frame of the door; no part of our family had that much money, not after the war with Grindelwald. A house elf struggled out of the cargo hold of the carriage and opened the door.
All I had to see was the flash of blonde hair, even fairer than my own and the cane, decorated with an intricate carving of a snake at its head. I will not lie, I was rather impressed, to see this man with all his riches and sophistication When he saw me at the door he flashed a smile and approached.
Suddenly feeling shy, I said softly, "Hello, Mr. Malfoy."
He laughed, a deep, manly sound, "So formal!" Taking my hand, he gently kissed the back and a small giggle escaped my lips. "Happy Middle Year, Miss Black." Looking over my shoulder, he added, "And Mrs. Black. You look radiant, as always."
Mother smiled coldly and ushered him into the house, ordering Tibby to get refreshments for their newest guest. I saw him make his way through the crowd to Father, whom he instantly struck up a conversation about his work with.
"Okay, everyone is here," everyone turned to look at Mother, whose commanding voice had rang out, "the adults will be making their way into the sitting room, while the children will go out to the garden."
There was a knock on the door, and Mother looked annoyed, "Honestly, who could that be?"
I thought I knew, so I tried to beat her to the door, but in my restrictive clothing, failed to do so. Everyone in my family, and their friends, was watching as Severus Snape walked through the door. Severus was a year younger than me, he'd been a surprise for the Slytherin house. We were in our glory, none of the houses did quite as well in classes or on the Quidditch field. And along came this small, unhealthy looking half-blood boy. It was much like an ugly child born into a family full of beautiful people, blemishing any future family photos.
He'd survived his year by sheer virtue of his mind; Severus knew more dark curses and potions than anyone. If someone in our house was cruel to him, they would find a potion in their drink that made their insides itch or a spell that rebounded their own attacks back to them. Needless to say I took an interest in him, feigning ignorance in potions to catch his attention, he'd caught me within a week, confronting me about it. He'd been angry, yet exuded a Slytherin calms, asking what kind of fool I took him for and what the punch line to this joke was.
Of course, he'd forgiven me. It'd taken more than my usual gentle smile to get us there, though. I'd proved my usefulness to him as an ally, and that I was interesting enough to captivate him in conversation. By his reaction to me, you would think I was the first person to show him any sort of kindness. He desperately absorbed every word I spoke to him, every touch. I'll admit that I power tripped on this Severus actually became a sign of social standing for me; I had something the other girls didn't. All of them could find a boy whom they would flutter their eyelashes at and in return be told how beautiful they are. Snape, however, treated all of them with disdain, save for me. Obviously there was something special, ethereal about me. I'd always thought so.
A heat that wasn't due to the weather swept over my features as I watched them judge him, and therefore judge me. His skin was a translucent white with blotches of red appearing from the cold and his hair, though clean, was still lank. While his jacket was far too large, his pants were too short. I could see his ankles for Merlin's sake. And...was he wearing white socks with his black suit? At school it was okay, I was a Black and my saying it was okay, made it okay. Here, among my relatives, I did not have nearly as much power or influence.
Feeling slightly guilty about this, I set my shoulders back and approached him, saying in a voice that, I'm proud to say, did not waver, "Severus!"
I took his hands in mine and kissed him lightly on the lips, as I did all boys, though the one I gave him was not quite as chaste. Mother cleared her throat behind me, and I saw an odd look on her face, and, being young, I thought nothing of it when she pulled Lucius aside as the guests headed off to their respective locations.
We sat in the garden, the guests begging for my favor as I sat on a marble bench like a queen. Severus sat beside me, distinctly uncomfortable until I sat my hand over his, minus my glove (terribly intimate, this skin on skin contact, for a pureblood girl) and drew small circles with my thumb. We were in school for a moment, in our private world, cutting off anyone who tried to intervene. And then came dinner.
A five course meal was planned for the occasion, beginning with salad and soup, moving into a rich meal of meat and potatoes, and ending with a sweet, light dessert, and all of it was complimented by a very fine wine. The seating did not place Severus near me, but rather left him at the mercy of the adults. At first this worked in his favor, since he was near my father who was speaking to his colleagues about his specialty, magical theory. They were arguing about where the future of the study lay.
"Potions," Severus said quietly, and they all looked at him, "Magic has it's limits, but potions has endless possibilities. If you know what every ingredient does, then you can get them to do whatever you want."
"Ah, do you fancy yourself a potions expert?" Father looked amused, but curious.
Knowing Severus wouldn't sing his own praises, I said, "He's really good at it, Father. By his third year, he knew more about potions than our teacher. I can't count the number of time he asks a question and the teacher doesn't know the answer."
Mother gave me an annoyed look, and said in what an outsider would consider a civil voice, "Yes, well, people like him tend to be good at that sort of thing, the subject that involves the least magic."
"Now, Druella," Father said, ever diplomatic, "potions is a very–."
"Actually," I interrupted, glaring at Mother, who held my gaze, "he excels in all his other subjects as well."
"Well, if ever you need a job after you graduate, come and find me."
"Yes, sir."
Mother had clearly had enough, and rather hysterically hit her fork against her glass, "I have an announcement." Everyone turned their attention to the woman, "My beautiful daughter has turned seventeen, she is now an adult. Traditionally, this is the age when a young woman is committed to a marriage." A lump grew in my throat and the dark room felt as though it were closing in, "So, it is my great joy to announce her engagement to Lucius Malfoy."
Gasps and scattered applause spread out through the room and someone called out about the joining of the ancient lines. My mouth, meanwhile, formed a perfect "oh" and I looked rather desperately around the room. Remembering myself, I awkwardly got to my feet and kissed Lucius on the cheek, and forced a smile at my relatives. My mind was in overdrive, noticing every detail about the people at the table. The sour look on Aunt Walburga's face and the "I told you so" one on Bella's face.
A flood of people stood to offer their congratulations and advice. It was not until the last person had shaken my hand or hugged me that I even thought to look for Severus. He wasn't there, and that brought me an infinite amount of relief. Though I wondered if he would forgive me for this as easily as he'd forgiven my first manipulation.