Title: Tidal Waves
Chapter: One
Characters/Pairings: Lucius/Narcissa, Juliet
Spoilers/Warning: R
Summary: His proximity has always had way of affecting her; whether it's causing her to have homicidal thoughts or, more recently, giving her butterflies. - L/N at Hogwarts
Disclaimer: Not authorized, prepared, approved, licensed, or endorsed by J. K. Rowling, Warner Bros., or any other individual or entity associated with the Harry Potter books or film. All Harry Potter logos, trademarks, names, characters, and related indicia are the property of Warner Bros., J. K. Rowling, and/or their respective owners. I do not claim any affiliation with those who own Harry Potter and would like to make it clear that no copyright infringement is intended in the publication of this story
Author's Note: Story loosely (very loosely) based off of the Shopoholic series.
"Shopping is a woman thing. It's a contact sport like football. Women enjoy the scrimmage, the noisy crowds, the danger of being trampled to death, and the ecstasy of the purchase." - Erma Bombeck
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"Cissy," Juliet sighs as I rip into the package my family's owl has just dropped on my bed. "Please tell me you didn't."
I shrug guiltily and glance down at the receipt in my hand. So what if I spent a whole month's allowance on... Oh fuck. That's a lot more than a month's worth of allowance.
"Er," I mumble, biting my bottom lip.
"Do you not remember the last howler?" Juliet asks, here eyebrows quirked. "I nearly went deaf from all the shrieking."
"But it was on sale," I defend and hold up my new Galinda bikini. The clasp in the front clicks as I grin innocently, but Juliet just shakes her head. I persist. "It was a steal."
"It's September Cissy," Juliet cries and throws her hands in the air.
"I like to think ahead," I insist. And I do. I'm like one of those American boys – I'm always prepared. Ok, so I'm sometimes prepared. Well, maybe not sometimes. Usually not at all if I want to be honest with myself. Which I don't.
Juliet sighs again, but I can tell she's cracking when she reaches out to touch the delicate fabric. "Can you even wear it into water?"
I frown. Hm. I hadn't really thought of that when I'd ordered it from Galinda's two days ago. But it was silk and it was gorgeous and, honestly, that's all that really matters. Right?
"It is pretty though," Juliet murmurs absently.
"I know, right?" I say brightly. "And look at the sequence. It was sewn by hand."
"No magic?" Juliet asks, impressed. "I thought Galinda always used magic."
"Not on her special pieces." I raise an eyebrow at my best friend. See, Juliet and I go way back. All the way to the tender age of five when we began our first semester of finishing school. The two of us had quickly bonded over our love for all things pink, including our bubble-gum colored jumpers and magenta hair barrettes. And then we'd spotted Violet Parkinson in all her purple glory and ridiculed her like only snotty little children could. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Juliet suddenly grinned. "Hey! When your mother kills you, can I have this?"
Or maybe not that beautiful of a friendship.
"No," I say, glaring at her. "No you may not."
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Although I've never really performed very well in most classes, I've landed myself in potions with the seventh years. Apparently I have something of a gift when it comes to mixing and measuring. Oh, and I have a great eye for color. This is extremely helpful when trying to produce a strengthening potion the color of a lemon when it's only one stir different than a deadly poison the same shade as a sunflower.
At the moment, I'm shaking my head from side to side while trying to decide whether I should tell Frank Longbottom that his lacewings are spoiled and will undoubtedly explode the second they hit his cauldron or sit back and watch the fireworks. To be honest, I like fireworks. They're bright and shiny and loud. Like me.
"What are you laughing at Black?" Longbottom demands rudely.
"You," I say simply and blink.
Longbottom rolls his eyes and drops the lacewings into his potion, which promptly explodes in his face. He looks up at me with wide eyes and a charred face.
"See?" I grin cheesily. "You're hil-ar-i-ous."
While Longbottom is led off to the infirmary, I turn back to my own potion. It is, to my delight, the perfect shade of mulberry.
"You knew his potion was going to explode."
I jump as the words are spoken so close to my neck that I can feel his breath. I whirl around and glare at the culprit. "What do you want?"
Lucius Malfoy is, to be perfectly frank, the biggest asshole in the history of all mankind. I've felt this way since we were small and he put a frog down the front of my dress at his mother's garden party. Because of the spectacle I made of myself I wasn't allowed at a formal, or even an informal, function until I was eleven. I have always and will always blame that shit for missing out on Galinda's first fashion show when I was ten.
"You're a potions expert, yes?"
I narrow my eyebrows in response. That bastard knows I'm the resident potions expert.
"I need your help."
"You need my help?" I ask skeptically.
"Yes," he says with a wave of his hand. "I'm in need of a tutor."
"A tutor?" I scoff. "The great Lucius Malfoy is 'in need' of a tutor?"
"Yes." He cocks his head and flashes his patented Malfoy I-Want-You-To-Think-You-Have-A-Choice-But-You-Really-Don't smirk. "I'll compensate you for your time, of course."
I stare at him for a long, calculated moment before nodding my agreement. "Fine."
"Excellent," Lucius says, flashing an extremely rare and genuine smile. "Thursday evening?"
"Can't," I tell him. "I've got a date."
"With who?" Lucius asks and mentally slaps himself. I can tell because I, myself, do it on a frequent basis.
"What do you care Malfoy?" I ask, clearly amused by his slip. I wiggle my eyebrows. "Jealous?"
He snorts. "Doubtful."
"Whatever," I call over my shoulder and head towards the door.
I'm halfway there when Slughorn calls to me, "Black, where on earth are you going? We've still got forty minutes of class left."
Damn. He ruined my dramatic exit.
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While I'm a whiz at potions, divination is not my strong suit. I look at tea leaves and I see tea leaves. I look at the stars and I see stars. I look at a crystal ball and see a crystal ball… End of story. Juliet, on the other hand, is a completely different story.
"Ooh," she says as she peers into my empty cup. "Looks like you're in for a life-altering change."
I pull my cheek from my desk and grimace.
"You've drooled again, honey," Juliet tells me absently and then points at something in the cup. "See? It's a tidal wave. Are your emotions getting the best of you?"
I frown. What the hell is she talking about?
"Are you paying the least bit of attention?"
"No," I murmur as I wipe at my sticky cheek. I look at the tea leaves she's pointing to. "I'm not dying this time, am I?"
Juliet scowls.
"I'm tutoring Malfoy in potions," I say, trying to change the subject.
My diversionary tactic works like a charm. Juliet's eyes go wide and she begins gagging dramatically.
"I know," I agree, throwing my arms into the air.
"Are you mad?" Juliet yelps. "Malfoy is the world's biggest asshole."
See? I told you.
"He's paying me," I tell Juliet.
"Oh." She blinks. "Well then alright. Hey, he could be your emotional upheaval."
My what? "My what!?"
Juliet rolls her eyes. "Look at the bloody leaves Cissy."
"I see leaves," I tell her bluntly.
"It's a wave," she insists and rolls her arm in a wave-like motion. "And that signifies an emotional change."
"It's a clump," I say. "It signifies your inability to strain tea."
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"He's staring at you," Juliet whispers as the two of us gracefully sit down for lunch. She jerks her head in the direction of the Eight Circle of Hell (or, in Cissy and Let lingo, Malfoy and his close circle of friends) and rolls her eyes.
"Which one?" I ask as I try to inconspicuously look past her.
"Malfoy," she tells me and grabs the butter from some second year who stupidly wandered too far from his side of the table. He squeaks at the look on her face and scurries back to his friends. "He's been staring since we walked in."
"Maybe he's staring at you," I say.
She shakes her head and grimaces. "Ew."
I frown and lean forward to grab a roll from the platter across from me. As I do, I tilt my head in Malfoy's direction and let my eyes drift upwards. When our eyes lock it feels like I've just been zapped by a stinging jinx.
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