A/N: I haven't written a story in such a long time, so I thought I'd give it a shot. I'm kind of rusty!

Narcissa Black was thin, worryingly so - the gaunt expression in her face often caused others to stare - depending on the light, she looked skeletal. Despite this, she was beautiful, charismatic, delightful. Being from a particularly aristocratic family had influenced and shaped her personality considerably; when she was younger the terrible word "Mudblood" simply bounced off her, for she did not know its wicked associations. The innocence of her youth draped itself like a protective cape around her, shielding her from the reality of Pureblood life.

Her cousin, Sirius, arrogant with his friends and family, had often despised her. Even at a young age, she had not understood why he delibrately went out of his way to upset the family members with his cruel remarks. "You're just like the rest of them!" he had exclaimed, once, as Narcissa had been mocking a muggle boy with her sister, Bellatrix. Sirius had pushed Narcissa over, and being only seven years old, she had began to cry. Her mother and father showed little sympathy. "He is young," they had claimed, "He will grow out of it."

Certainly, he disposed of his cruel words as he matured, but the arrogance and blatant dislike for Narcissa and his family had remained. Him and that Potter boy were always causing trouble ... Gryffindors! Causing trouble!

Of course, Narcissa herself was a Slytherin. Like the name suggested, the majority of the students in the Slytherin house were cold and serpent like; refusing to associate themselves with other houses in the school. Severus Snape, one of her dearest friends, was alike and yet unlike other Slytherins. Though he could be wicked, and could cast a silent hex faster than the rest of them by their fifth year, he was quiet-reserved.

Snape seemed to consider things more than others; particularly the Dark Arts. Every single piece of homework he wrote for it came back with "Outstanding." Narcissa was lucky if she got an "Acceptable" grade. Even the rest of her friends, as they progressed to the seventh year, were barely managing an "Acceptable" or "Exceeds Expectations." Snape's grades were always "Outstanding." He never studied, though, Narcissa had noticed; when she was studying for the end of year examinations, perhaps a little more stressed than she should have been, he was quietly sat in the corner of the common room, reading an old Potions book. As he turned the pages, occasionally a smirk would cross his face, and he would jot down something in the side margins.

Narcissa found it hard to look at her family when Bellatrix and Regulus signed up for Lord Voldemort. "The Death Eaters" were a small, anonymous group of Voldemort's most loyal and hand-picked members; based on Pureblood and Aristocratics; those who agreed with Voldemort's thoughts and wanted to follow his actions. Of course, their contract with him was permanent and eternal; once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater.

Her mother and father, ridiculously smug as ever, had been very proud of Bellatrix and Regulus and had gone out of their way to shower them both with expensive gifts. But when Regulus had been murdered at the hand of the Dark Lord himself ... well, her mother and father still continued to praise the Dark Lord and his ways, which were "correct" for society. "Mudbloods-filthy mudbloods-poisoning and staining our society like they- like they own the place! Pah! Inbreds, mutants, scum!" her father would regularly shout, often unnecessarily. Often to himself.

Now, Narcissa was eighteen years old and was courting Lucius Malfoy. Smothered in wealth and luxury, Narcissa had taken to Lucius's lifestyle well. He was a nice man, she had to admit - he certainly cared for her. But she often felt like she was ... perhaps an ornament on Lucius's shelf of lifetime collections. There, but not to have an opinion. A trophy, to show his achivement along what had been expected of him. He was intelligent, arrogantly so. He often commented on her remarks with a sneer; his lips curled in silent mockery. He enjoyed correcting her, grammatically and on her spells. She had finished Hogwarts with average grades and did not believe in being employed.

The wealth surrounding her acted as a safety net, keeping her from the common outlook. Privately- she had wanted a job in the Ministry, but Lucius worked there and he simply would not allow it.