Today. Today was Narcissa Lockhart's wedding day. She stood with her mother in front of an ornate mirror, slender hands fingering a lock of silver gold.
"You look beautiful," her mother said, smiling thinly. Narcissa looked down at her robes, white, laced with mother of pearl and strung with diamonds. She wore it uneasily - it was heavy.
"Really?" she asked, touching her bodiced tummy gently.
"Of course," the woman said, assuredly. "It isn't like you to doubt your beauty, Narcissa."
Narcissa laughed, as her mother squeezed a puff-sleeved shoulder.
"Relax daughter," she said. "Lucius comes from a good family. He's an excellent match for you."
Narcissa's eyes flickered around the room. She avoided her mother's reflection, biting her lip.
"Come on dear," her mother said. "It's time."

Narcissa had met Lucius before, of course. He has been a drawling fifth year prefect when she first entered Hogwarts, and the Sorting Hat had put her in the same house as him. It hadn't wanted to - it had wanted to put her in Gryffindor. But Narcissa had made it put her in Slytherin. It was what was expected of her.
Although sometimes, she thought to herself she would rather have been in Gryffindor.

Despite being in Lucius' house, Narcissa had barely ever spoken to him. He was cold and cruel - a stereotypical Slytherin. Narcissa would not allow herself to talk to such a boy, nor be talked down to by him.
That, of course, was before the betrothal.

And now her she was, saying "I do" in a clenched sort of voice. Her ring was a traditional diamond, with four not so traditional emeralds set on either side. Narcissa disliked it, as she disliked Lucius. He kissed her coldly, in a way that made her shudder inside. She had closed her eyes as soon as he lifted the veil, not wanting to look at him. His tongue snaked inside her mouth, and she fought very hard not to bite it off.
He was laughing at her.
Narcissa didn't breath.
Then it was over (it was over!) and she took a deep breath, wanting to run. She wanted to run as far away as possible, to fling off her ring and rip her dress to pieces, to scream like no one had ever screamed before, nor would ever scream again.
She didn't. She stood next to Lucius, the epitome of self-control. Her stomach writhed; the inside of her cheek was bleeding. She false-smiled for the cameras, though the smile did not reach her eyes. She probably, she thought, looked quite arrogant.
She didn't feel it. What she felt like was taking a camera - probably her brother's, he was closest, and smashing it into Lucius' head. She wanted to cut his scalp open, with her fingernails if need be, and make him bleed till it turned her dress red. She would serve up his corpse in some sort of pie to his parents, to her parents.
She hated him.


Several days later, Narcissa found herself standing naked in front of a mirror - a mirror in the bathroom of her honeymoon suite. Her pale skin was dark with bruises; the knot in her stomach was a permanent fixture.
Narcissa frowned. The Narcissa in the mirror frowned back. She turned to get dressed.
Narcissa wondered what her mother, who Lucius had left so impressed, would say to the bruises. Probably just laugh and make some sick joke. Although, Narcissa considered, she'd have some balm. Her mother would not approve of her leaving her skin so marred.
Narcissa had no intention of removing the bruises. They were proof, she felt, though what use such proof would be, she was not sure.
Narcissa wondered what her mother would think he she cut her arms and legs so her skin was smeared with blood. It would look rather dramatic - her mother would probably faint.
Narcissa, she told herself, you should not think such things. Narcissa stuck her chin up stubbornly at her now dressed reflection. That would be letting Lucius beat her. And she had no intention of letting that happen. Narcissa would put up with this. After all, (Narcissa's mouth quirked) it was probably what her mother had done.
Narcissa leant over the sink, carefully inserting a pair of emerald studs. Lucius had given them to her, therefore she hated them. She wanted to throw them away, just to spite Lucius. But she wore them, to remind herself of the fix she was in.
Not that she could forget.
Either way, Narcissa had decided it was in her best interests not to make Lucius mad. She'd seen him before, at school, mad.
She hadn't liked it, and she shuddered now at the memory.

Narcissa checked her reflection over in the mirror, silently agreeing with her mother's comment that she was beautiful.
It didn't help that the robed Lucius had provided suited her to perfection, however much she wished they didn't.
Narcissa sighed, and brushed off a speck of imaginary dirt. Then, she went out, into the cold.


"Welcome," Lucius said, whispering into Narcissa's ear, "to your new home."
Narcissa looked up, and, despite herself, was impressed. Malfoy Manor was obviously very old, but in marvelous condition. It was several stories high, one side covered in ivy. The grounds were impressive.
It was, Narcissa thought, a house you could get lost in. Like in that muggle book she'd once read - what was it - The Secret Garden. Although she doubted Lucius had a much loved dead wife haunting him. He deserved it though.
That had been Narcissa's favourite book, when she was eleven, and had snuck it out the trunk of the arrogant muggle-born girl who slept in her dorm ... her name had been Gemima. Narcissa had never given the book back, despite Gemima's threatening of all in the dormitory.
"Narcissa? You are coming?"
Narcissa was suddenly brought back into the world. The simplicity that was Hogwarts was gone now. This was real. Not a dream, or even a nightmare, as she would've liked it to be. It was real.
Narcissa went cold. She nodded to her new husband, and followed him up the road to her new... home.

Narcissa's rooms were large, an attribute emphasized by their lack of furniture. A bed, a dressing table - that was about it.
"I shall, of course, be expecting you in my rooms tonight," Lucius had said, when he dropped her off to unpack. Not that she was unpacking - several house-elves had appeared from nowhere, and scurried about the room, ignoring her.
Narcissa ignored them.
She looked about the room, opening the many doors. An ensuite. A wardrobe. Another wardrobe. Another - how many clothes did Lucius think she had? A study. Narcissa wasn't sure what she was supposed to be studying - she had the idea she was supposed to be a pretty ornament on Lucius' mantelpiece.
Oh well. She could find some use for the room. She had books, after all, and a great deal of them, to her mother's disapproval. She was glad there was a bookcase.
Narcissa found her eyes watering, and frowned, before squeezing them shut. She did not cry, and she would not cry - especially not over this. Lucius would not affect her so. This marriage would not affect her so.
She didn't really believe herself, though she said it over and over again. She stuck out her chin (you will not let him affect you thus); she straightened her back (you will not cry).
Narcissa looked down her nose at one of the house-elves.
"Elf," she said, harshly. "Where are the kitchens?"
A million high-pitched voices offered to take her there.
"I need only one of you. The rest of you can finish unpacking."
One immediately separated itself from the rest, and soon she was following it downstairs.
Narcissa Malfoy was going to bake cookies.



-------


This is the first part in a story that will end up approximately three parts long, when I finish typing it up.
The characters in this story are not mine, instead they belong to the illustrious JK Rowling. I'm just borrowing them...