The crimson liquid flows steadily across her shaking hand as she places the shattered wineglass down on the table. Narcissa contemplates her fingers, her thoughts slightly blurred by the alcohol. Was it blood, that polluted her skin, or merely wine? Did it matter, really? It was terrible to waste such an expensive wine, but it wasn't like Lucius couldn't spare the expense. After all, Narcissa had been drinking the stuff all afternoon.
Blood and wine were similar, Narcissa mused. Wine grew more valuable, the older it was. The richer and purer it was, the better. Much like blood. Narcissa and her family were respected because of the purity of their blood, untainted for so many generations. In marrying her husband, the two most ancient wizarding families had become forever linked.
Narcissa sighed, and rubbed her hands together. Memories had been plaguing her all day. Ever since she had heard of her husband's capture. Dammit, she was drinking to forget, not to remember. Old wine and old memories were a bad combination, as far as Narcissa was concerned.
Silent communication across the dinner table, in the most basic human way. Suggestive gestures and an expensively heeled foot trailing up a trouser leg. A cruel smile as the same heel sliced down the aforementioned leg, and a quick change of subject.
No. She wouldn't think of him. Not like that, in any case. No, she despised him.
He looked so handsome on her wedding day. Beautifully cut suit, the best the tailors could offer. A kiss charged with passion and spite and hate and lust. A declaration of love, and a promise that should have lasted forever. And yet it faded, just the same as everything else.
Rising to her feet unsteadily, Narcissa decided another bottle of wine was in order. After all, hers was only half-full. Refusing to relinquish her grasp on the dark bottle, She made her way precariously across the kitchen and down the stairs with the sort of swagger only cowboys and the very drunk could manage.
Giggling and tugging at clothes. Hurrying down the stairs to the wine cellar, to hide from the guests. Not daring to be seen by anyone, too much at stake for that. High risk and even higher pleasure. No, better be quiet. Better whisper. Better not scream, Cissa, no matter what.
At the last memory, Narcissa recoiled physically. As she did so, she felt herself lose her balance. That heart stopping moment when she realised she was about to fall was dulled slightly by the alcohol streaming through her veins. She barely felt it as she toppled down the stairs. Bang, Bang, Bang!
Flat on her back in the cellar. Just as he liked her best. A heavy weight on top of her, arms pinning her to the ground. A taste of danger in his mouth. What if we're caught? So what, let them think what they will! The guests didn't matter now. All that mattered was him and her, and their needs.
She didn't even feel the impact as she hit the floor. The bottle hit the floor hard, shattering. It really was quite beautiful, Narcissa thought, the way the shards sparkled in the dim light of the cellar. Candles flickered on the wine racks, illuminating the crimson liquid pooled by her twisted body. Perhaps it really was blood this time.
A shadow at the top of the stairs. Black against the bright lights of the kitchen. A guest, looking for the hostess, perhaps? Narcissa shrunk closer to him. A rapid heartbeat in both their chests. They mustn't be seen. No, just stay like this forever, and perhaps will themselves into invisibility.
Bellatrix's heels beat a quick tattoo on the wooden stairs. She had heard her sister call out, and rushed to answer. When she saw Narcissa's form lying prostrate on the floor, she hurried to her side and lifted up the beautiful golden head. Seeing the way he sister's eyes had clouded over, Bellatrix rolled her eyes and looked for the source of her inebriation. She tapped the shard of glass, repairing the bottle.
"Le Pin 1986 Pomerol?" She made a half-impressed sound. "My, Cissa, you do go the whole way, don't you? That's worth a hundred galleons, if a knut"
Narcissa blinked up at her sister, her mind confused. Was it the alcohol, or the fall? Perhaps she has a concussion.
"Sirius?" She moaned, reaching out for her sister clumsily.
A flicker of anger flared in Bellatrix's eyes. She raised her palm and swung it down hard against the sister's flushed cheek. Narcissa recoiled. The slap had sobered her in a way the fall had failed to do. Suddenly it became clear.
"It was you. The shadow at the stairs. You saw us. Sirius and I." Narcissa said.
"Yes, I saw" Bellatrix sneered. "Everything you have, Cissa, and you'd throw it away for a blood traitor like him. Your home, your family, your husband-"
"That's what this is about, isn't it Bella?" Narcissa spat, her mind sharp again with rage. "My husband. You can't bear that I have Lucius, when all along it was you who wanted him first. Bella the spoilt oldest child always got things first. Narcissa was left with the hand-me-downs. Even my husband, Bella!"
Bella glared, her eyes pinpricks of pure hatred. Narcissa ploughed on, glad to finally be releasing the thoughts she'd kept in for so long. "And guess what, Bella? He's had you, and still he chose me. I know. You laid it all out for him, Bellatrix, and still he chose me over you. And it kills you, doesn't it? Doesn't it eat away at you, inside?"
Bellatrix slapped her sister again, harder this time. Narcissa felt her lip split, and blood seep through the crack. The sisters had never been violent before. It was unladylike. But then again, Narcissa thought, so was seducing your little sister's fiancé. The trail of blood running down her chin was worth the rage she had put into Bellatrix.
"You know what, sister?" Bellatrix growled. "You and the blood traitor deserved each other. Now, sober up. You're disgusting"
And with that, the shadow moved back towards the door, leaving Narcissa bruised and battered on the cellar floor.