In the quaint little town of Florem, there were two major families, the Blacks and the Malfoys. Known to all its denizens as wizards and witches of the highest calibre, they traced back their heritage as far as centuries ago. Their rivalry, too, was ancient and famous.

Though they had their disputes every now and then, for the most part, the families actively stayed out of each other's business and avoided conflict. In times of great trouble for the town, during war, drought, and disease, they even allied together in the name of a common interest.

For the longest time, the two families stood on even footing, and though each had their strengths, neither could be said to truly exceed the other.

But, as the seasons must always pass, that changed…

"Come on, Cissy, you know you can tell me anything," Bellatrix said, standing with the faint light of the shy spring sun at her back. "What's wrong?"

Narcissa slumped against the great alder tree in the lands surrounding their estate, her face hidden by its shade. "Bella…I don't want to marry Lucius," she mumbled. "It's not that I don't like him. I just don't think I can be with him. I can't…" She shook her head, confused by her own conflicting feelings. "He's like a brother to me."

Bellatrix smiled sadly. "Mother and Father spoke to you, didn't they? Our family really does need this. Ever since our cousin Regulus's untimely death and Sirius's desertion, we've been on the decline." Bellatrix placed her hand on Narcissa's shoulder. "Lucius isn't so bad. He'll take good care of you." Then, with a sardonic expression on her face, she added, "Unlike Ruddy. He's a chariot crash."

"I don't know…" Narcissa whispered, trailing her fingers against the grass. It was still moist from the morning dew.

"You'll be fine, Cissy. It's normal to be nervous. Come on, I'll be here for you." Bellatrix pulled her sister into a warm hug. Her curly hair brushed against the side of Narcissa's face. "If Lucius mistreats you, I'll show him the wrath of a Black."

Narcissa was left thinking of her other sister, Andromeda, who had eloped a year ago with some magicless no-name, leaving her sisters behind. She, more than Bellatrix, had always seemed to understand or at least know how to comfort Narcissa.

Still, the hug helped, if only a little bit.

She forced herself to smile. "Thanks, Bella."

When Narcissa awoke the next morning, it was to a gentle weight draped over her chest. It was warm and soft and certainly not the cotton of her sheets. The whisper of a breath tickled her shoulder. Rolling over, Narcissa pushed the figure aside and out from under the covers, drawing them close to herself.

"What…? Bella?" she murmured, disorientated and mind still foggy with sleep. There was an answering hum. Narcissa blinked and reached a hand up to her face to rub the blurriness away.

There was an unfamiliar girl—no, a woman —lying nude on her side in bed with her, her back facing Narcissa. There were a set of great wings in the form of patterned tiger lilies sprouting along her spine and reaching down to the insides of her knees, a flaming orange-red with petals, sepals, carpel and all. They were only surpassed by the colour of her long hair, which were an even deeper red like molten lava.

What the hell?

Narcissa had to be dreaming. Had she spent too much time in the gardens as of late? But the lilies hadn't bloomed yet, she knew. Maybe it was anticipatory.

"Who are you?" Narcissa asked hesitantly, pulling herself up against the headboard, taking the covers with her. There was no response. Against her instincts, she inched closer to the figure to take a better look. The woman was still lying there unmoving except for, Narcissa noted, the slight rising and falling of her chest.

"Oh!" Narcissa gasped as the woman suddenly rolled onto her back, swinging her arm around and startling Narcissa. Narcissa jumped back, reaching for the nightstand where she kept her wand. She grasped the hawthorn tightly in her hand and levelled it at the stranger. "Don't move!"

Narcissa flushed as she took in the figure before her. She was a lovely, ethereal thing, like a maiden transported from the delicate pages of a fairy tale. Soft morning light spilled from the crack between the curtains and across her pale breasts, contrasted against the tresses of her dark hair beneath. Narcissa was surprised that her wings did not bruise from lying on them. The delicate flowers of their garden did always damage easily, she knew from experience. Sometimes it seemed that even the gentle droplets of dew would be too much to bear.

"Mmh…" the woman sighed, her wings shifting or perhaps stretching. Her eyelids fluttered open to reveal a pair of crisp green irises, which promptly drifted over towards Narcissa. "Oh, it's you," she said, smiling contentedly.

"Who are you?" Narcissa repeated, more forcefully this time. She still felt apprehensive, though she was now armed. The—fairy?—didn't seem to have anything on her, including clothes of any sort, but Narcissa was determined not to let her guard down again. She had never heard of a creature that matched the stranger's description, so she didn't know what she was capable of, despite her looking friendly enough.

"No name," she murmured sleepily, yawning.

"No name?" Narcissa repeated incredulously. "You can't—oh, just tell me what you're doing in my bedroom!"

"Returning a favour," she replied casually. "You asked for a companion, didn't you?"

"When did I—" Narcissa began, stopping short. Oh. Last night, in the garden by the moonlight! She gasped and felt anger bubbling up inside her. "You were eavesdropping," she accused. Her hand shook.

" Andy's gone, Bella doesn't understand, and my parents won't listen, " the fairy whispered, gazing intently at Narcissa. She seemed to have stirred to wakefulness. " I wish someone would be here for me. "

Narcissa felt her cheeks heat up with mortification at the recitation of her admission of weakness. "You didn't have the right," she bit. "Those words weren't for you to hear."

The fairy laughed, her voice like the tinkling of bells in the wind. "Sorry," she said between muffled giggles, "sorry. You're so precious, Narcissa, sweet like the nectar of spring jonquils."

Narcissa found herself lowering her wand. Her face was now pink with a sudden surge of gaiety at the fairy's compliment. "I don't understand," she said.

"What is there to understand? You called for me, and I responded," the fairy said simply.

"What are you?" Narcissa asked, and the fairy's eyes lit up in anticipation.

"I am the spirit of the lilies in your garden," she explained, "the very ones you water so carefully every day. The same ones you whisper all your dearest secrets to, every little worry and every little joy. You fed life to me, and I was brought into existence. Without you, I would have remained a common plant devoid of consciousness, doomed to the confinement of the earth, but now, I am free."

The fairy sat up, drawing her wings from beneath her and shook them out, causing a dusting of reddish pollen to sprinkle the sheets. Narcissa clenched her hand around her wand instinctively but did nothing to stop her. Despite the strangeness of it all, Narcissa believed her. It reminded her of Cinderella, that peasants' tale her parents had sneered at, and her fairy godmother, except, that wasn't quite accurate to their situation, whatever this was.

The fairy tilted her head towards the window where the sun's rays were growing steadily brighter, a forlorn look overtaking her expression. "I must go," she declared quietly.

"Wait," Narcissa said, "you've barely told me anything." She hesitated, still clutching the covers close to her body. "Will you return?"

The fairy smiled. "I will only appear to you when the morning dew still rests on fine lily-petals."

Narcissa moved forward to feel her warmth again, hand outstretched, but when she blinked, there was nothing left but a faint shimmer in the air.

"Is it really you?" Narcissa murmured, caressing a white lily in her hand. To her surprise and delight, they had bloomed overnight, all two dozen of them. She leaned down and pressed her nose up against its centre and took a deep breath. The fragrance was confident but not overwhelmingly sweet, with a distinctive tang of something else extra. The stigma brushed against the tip of her nose, leaving a wet mark behind.

She sighed, though she knew there would be no response. "I'll take care of you," she promised quietly. "No one will touch you but me, and we'll see each other again in the morning."

She spent the rest of the day in the garden and away from her family.

"I didn't think you would come," Narcissa murmured when she woke up. "I thought it was naught but a dream." The fairy was curled up against her again, her head nestled snugly between the left side of her chest and her upper arm. Her hair tickled Narcissa's skin. Narcissa used the hand that was not pinned down to brush the fairy's red bangs aside to look upon her face.

"A good one, I hope," the fairy whispered back humorously. "Thank you for taking care of me, Narcissa. You've done so well."

"Call me Cissy," Narcissa said. "Everyone that means anything to me calls me that."

"Thank you, Cissy," the fairy amended, nuzzling her nose against Narcissa's side, tracing along the faint outline of her ribs.

"What should I call you?" Narcissa asked. "It's awkward thinking of you as 'the fairy' all the time."

"I am just a flower," the fairy said, amusement clear in her voice. "We don't have names, not unless our carers choose to grant us one."

"Will you let me name you, then?" Narcissa asked tentatively. The fairy nodded in assent. Narcissa reached over to brush her hand along the length of her wings. They were silky and smooth and slightly cool to the touch. The fairy made a pleased sound.

"Liliane," Narcissa decided. "But I will call you Lily," she added, "only I."

They held each other until the sun's rays shone brightly again.

"Irresponsible girl," her mother scolded. Narcissa flinched and averted her gaze down at her feet. "Skipping out on important social events, not caring a whit for our family's future! Always in that blasted garden, wasting away over worthless flowers, a house-elf's task! What will the Malfoys think?"

A week had passed like a fleeting dream. Every morning, Lily appeared to Narcissa, and every morning, she would disappear again. Narcissa tended to the garden religiously by day, making sure that each and every plant was watered and fertilised well. As she passed the time, waiting for the day to cross over to the next, she sang some of her favourite songs.

'Dôme épais le jasmin…À la rose s'assemble…Rive en fleurs, frais matin…Nous appellent ensemble…' [1]

Day by day, she found that the lilies changed under her care. At first, they had all been a pure, snowy white, like the down feathers of a swan. Then, initially, Narcissa had noticed a faint blush blossoming from their centres. Finally, over the next few days, they grew dark speckled spots while the orange deepened and spread like the glow of a fire to match Lily's wings. Though she kept her observations to herself, it seemed to Narcissa as if Lily's daily visits grew longer and longer with the lilies' strength.

Now she stood in her father's study, forced to face reality once more.

"Come now, Druella," her father said tiredly, leaning against the back of his armchair, "she's just got cold feet. Don't you remember when you were a young lady?"

Her mother tapped her foot impatiently against the wooden floor. " I was a dutiful daughter," she said, sending Narcissa a scornful look. " I stayed in line and did was what required of me. She's already seventeen!"

"It will happen regardless," her father insisted. "The Malfoys would be foolish to back out now." He frowned, seemingly in thought.

"I don't want to marry Lucius," Narcissa said quietly. At her side, her mother jolted.

"What did you say?" her mother hissed.

"I won't marry him," Narcissa said, finding a sudden bout of defiant strength in her declaration. She envisioned the image of fiery Lily in her mind. "I said, I—" she gasped as her mother seized her by the wrist, "—WON'T MARRY HIM!"

"YOU WILL!" her mother shouted furiously. Her father looked on impassively, satisfied with delegating the messy matter to his wife. He didn't seem to have any concerns about her ability to convince her daughter. "You will, and that is the end of the matter! For your own good, you silly thing, if nothing else! What could you do," she said scathingly, "run away without a penny to your name?"

"So what if I do?!" Narcissa yelled, wrenching her hand away. It stung. Angry tears sprang hotly to her eyes as her indignation swelled at her heartless mother and her uncaring father. "What will you do, have me killed if I disobey, like you do to your servants? You can't force me—over my dead body!"

"No," her mother said lowly, "but I can lock you up. You are to be confined to your room until you recover your senses, Narcissa."

Lily didn't appear the next morning. Nor the next. Nor the one after that. Nor any of the following mornings.

Narcissa dreamed of Lily during her confinement. She dreamed of Lily pressed snugly to her, skin against skin, and of holding her, their bodies entwined. She dreamed of missed opportunities, of kissing Lily desperately like she never had, and of begging her to stay, only for Lily to slip through her fingers like fresh dew evaporated when she awoke. Her bed felt empty and cold, no matter how closely she drew the covers or how brightly the sun shone outside. She tried to smother herself in the pillows. She screamed in frustration, then loss.

Narcissa didn't cry because she held out hope. It was her belief that the wards keeping her trapped in her room must have inadvertently kept Lily out. She could believe nothing else, for Lily would not simply abandon her.

Prim, the house-elf, brought her three timely meals every day, and though Narcissa tried, she never quite managed to finish any of them. It didn't taste right to her, though by all measures, Narcissa knew Prim to be a competent chef, if not an exceptional one. It must have been her that was wrong, she realised. She felt sick, and no matter how long she slept the days away, the nauseous feeling in the depths of her core only worsened.

With every meal would come the short, terse message that if she changed her mind, she had only to inform her parents through Prim to be freed (if the iron shackles of an unwanted marriage could be called freedom). Otherwise, she was happily ignored.

Eventually, Bella was allowed to visit, though by then, Narcissa, who refused to leave her bed, was too despondent to react much. Truthfully, she didn't even know how long she had been locked up. It felt like years. She missed her sister dearly, and for that matter, human contact in general. But mostly Lily.

Narcissa suspected Bella had been talked into trying to persuade her by their parents. Even they, cold as they were, had to be worried that she might never agree to their demands.

The marriage was important. That much had been impressed upon her.

"Cissy," Bella said, shaking her by the shoulders gently, "come on. You can't stay like this. It's unhealthy, and you know Mother won't let up until you consent to marrying Lucius. I know you don't want to, but he's a good man. If you see him as a brother, you'll only have to be with him in official matters and to produce an heir. He will understand."

Narcissa knew Bella was only saying that because she was worried about her younger sister and not because she truly believed in Lucius's goodness, but she felt touched anyway. Still, she would not allow it to sway her. Her resolve was fixed. She would not betray Lily.

"Tell me about something else," Narcissa said miserably. "Please, Bella." Her sister looked at her with a sad expression.

"Well…I suppose...the garden," Bella said. "I think Mother's finally gone off her rocker." She shifted uncomfortably. "She said it was cursed."

" Cursed? " Narcissa asked disbelievingly. "Why in Merlin's name would she say that?" There wasn't anything amiss with the garden. It was perfect. Narcissa had made sure of that, what with all the work she had done on it.

"It's because you were spending so much time there lately, I think," Bella explained. "She tore it down."

"No," Narcissa breathed. "Impossible. She couldn't—" she choked, "—she knows how important it is to me." How important Lily is to me.

"I'm sorry, Cissy, but Mother was downright murderous that night. I know you can't see from your window, but...it was Fiendfyre. Nothing survived."

Come to think of it, Narcissa had dreamed of a roaring fire the first night of her confinement. At the time, she had thought it was just a vision of Lily's hair or her wings come to keep her company, but now she knew better.

Druella had sent the garden up in smoke, and along with it, burned the flowers within to ashes. And Lily—Lily had gone.

Narcissa found her body shaking uncontrollably and crossed her arms in an attempt to settle herself, digging her nails into the skin beneath her shoulders. She hiccupped, hysterical. "Circe, Bella, when I said to tell me something else, I meant something light-hearted," she managed to get out.

"You know me," Bella said unapologetically. "Heart as dark as a Lethifold. Cissy, listen...I know how difficult this must be for you," she said, pulling a lacy black handkerchief out of her robes, "but you can't let this keep you down forever. We can rebuild. I'll even help you with the garden if you want, though you know my tutor said I was hopeless at Herbology," she offered. "Where is my strong little sister, hm?" Narcissa was crying, her lashes heavy with the weight of gathered tears. Bella pressed the black cloth against the corners of her eyes.

"You don't understand," Narcissa wept, "you don't. " She hiccupped again. "You've always done whatever you wanted, and you—you love Rodolphus. Don't pretend with me. I know you two asked your parents to arrange the marriage."

"I know," Bella said soothingly, still patting Narcissa's face. "Let it all out."

"Oh, hell," Narcissa moaned inconsolably, "she's gone. Because of me, she's dead—I LOVED HER," she shrieked. She pinched at her skin, leaving marks of red with her nails in an attempt to supplant her emotional anguish with physical pain.

It did little to help, but she was glad for it anyway.

"Cissy…?" Bella said, perplexed, placing her hand gently on Narcissa's. "Who are you talking about?"

"No one," Narcissa said, blinking away her tears hollowly. She loosened her grip. "Sorry, I'm just confused, Bella. I haven't been sleeping well," she explained, waving her other hand dismissively. "You've convinced me. I—I'll marry Lucius."

Bella's eyes widened. "Are you sure?" she asked, concern evident on her face.

"Yes," Narcissa said quietly. Her voice barely trembled. "I'm sure."