Sometimes is never quite enough.
Narcissa Malfoy sat alone, as usual. The full-length, enchanted mirror stood curiously silent in front of the cushioned stool she perched upon. As the wire bristled brush slid through platinum hair for what seemed like the thousandth time, she glared at her reflection.
It was too perfect. Silky blonde hair, dark, glassy eyes, and porcelain features stared emotionlessly back at her. She had been beautiful once. With that same sort of confident charm all popular teenage girls seem to have. She used to feel as if she ruled the world.
And now she felt like a plaything. A trophy. And she was right. That was exactly what she was. The token pretty face to heighten her dear husband's status.
Her husband.
She turned to gaze upon a photograph. Their wedding day. A much younger Narcissa beamed back, a content flush on her ivory cheeks. Lucius, with sleek flaxen hair and icy eyes, stood next to her, a smile plastered upon his harsh, but handsome face.
Then, seeming to somehow sense what she was feeling, Lucius' face contorted into a little, smug sneer. The Narcissa he stood beside was so very naïve, and he most obviously knew it. He stared at the witch who had become his wife as if to say, If you're flawless, then you'll win my love.
She had spent her entire marriage – almost her entire life – making herself that way. And for what?
For the "love" of a man with no soul. As if she would ever receive it. Twenty or more years, and she hadn't yet. What would ever make her think she could?
Necessity? Yes, perhaps that was it.
The prospect of ever being loved was certainly appealing. Probably the only motivation she had to not spill deep crimson blood over the muted colors of her home, just to spite her husband. Lucius hated red.
Passion was beyond him, of course. He knew custom; he knew iced serenity. It was no longer forced, but simply a habit. Narcissa doubted he could feel anything, let alone love. She knew she hoped in vain.
But it kept her going.
A soft sigh escaped glossy pink lips. It was hopeless, she said to herself as she stood, letting long, white-blonde curls tumble over her shoulders. She turned to leave the room, steeling herself to face another day of living.
Don't forget to keep that smile on your face, chided her enchanted mirror, in a pleasant voice.
Narcissa slammed the door behind her without even glancing back. This was what she had wanted, and now she was having to pay the price.
Yes, her life was, indeed, perfect.