This was written for the Claw Machine Challenge and Summer Olympics Challenge at Caesar's Palace. I like how this turned out, for the most part, and I love Narcissa Malfoy so much. (Word count: 1243)
Claw Machine Challenge (sweet word) prompts: yonder, daffodil, versailles
Summer Olympics Challenge prompt: Football - write about an exchange student/someone going to another country
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything about it. Those rights go to J.K. Rowling.
The house is one belonging to the Malfoy family, not the Blacks. Narcissa supposes she doesn't really belong to the Black family anymore, she hasn't thought of herself as a Black in decades.
Every time she has thinks about her family of origin, it was more the surname that ties her and Andromeda together. They have been spending more time together since the war, getting to know each other again with help from Draco, Teddy and, of all people, Harry Potter.
Narcissa just needs a vacation. Somewhere to quietly sort out her thoughts now that everything has settled.
Harry owns the Black properties and vaults now. He offered to lend or even give her the one in France but Narcissa declined. She doesn't mind that he has the Black fortune since Bellatrix has left essentially everything the Lestrange family owns to Narcissa, though the Ministry succeeded in taking some, but only a little bit, and she has many private accounts scattered over Europe. The Ministry took a good chunk of her husband's English fortune, as well as her husband, but Lucius was a shrewd businessman and his truthfully hard-worked-for money can be found in vaults in France, Romania, Germany and Italy. Safely out of reach of the Ministry's hands.
Draco is studying to become a lawyer, an expert in civil law. He's grudgingly been accepted as top of his class, in a romantic relationship with Harry, and, most of all, safe, alive and happy. Narcissa is proud of him. They had trouble before, struggles with the Ministry and general Wizarding World, all if which they took with heads held high and shoulders back. Malfoys dont break, Blacks don't bend and Narcissa is both and she has ingrained the same ideals into her son.
Versailles is beautiful this time of year. A balmy, French summer in a town brimming with old magic. Narcissa loves it even more than their home on the coast of France, with it's light wood floors, pastel-blue theme and sandy front-yard, the ocean but a few steps away.
This home, however, is gold-trimmed, white silk, arching doorways and floors of either elaborate tiles or beautiful carpets. It's very beautiful and spacious, with stretching acres of ground on all sides that provide a wonderful view.
There's no butler or maid awaiting her, but a small House Elf by the name of Fiore, an Italian name, strangely enough, who eagerly takes her bags to the master bedroom. Narcissa isn't tired from her traveling, to utilize is a Portkey is no effort whatsoever, and thus she wanders around, cerulean robes sweeping the cobblestones and grass. It's been a long time since she's been here. Everything looks the same.
Narcissa has to close her eyes at the memory of Lucius's arm linked with hers, his platinum hair pulled back in a shining braid she'd done that morning, dressed in immaculate jewel-toned robes that brought out his pale features and sharp angles. If she inhales deeply and focuses on the memory hard enough, she can hear the low baritone lilt of his voice discussing their interests, can feel the brush of him, strong, against her side and can smell his musky cologne. Their marriage had been one arranged in convenience, unknown to them. By the time Lucius had graduated Hogwarts, however, they were infatuated with each other.
She opens her eyes and takes in a deep breath of the clean air. She shakes off the pain that's stabbing her heart at the thought of her unwavering husband who died in Azkaban only a few months ago. Narcissa has never been one for melancholic nostalgia or lingering but she has been one for indulgence, the most pampered of her sisters back in their youth, and perhaps that's why she had let herself bask in the memory a fraction longer than needed.
Narcissa slips into the house and nods at a House Elf who calls herself Sol (sun, Narcissa easily translates) and offers to make her a crepe.
Because she's a woman of crisp productivity and brisk business, she doesn't allow herself a day to waste. The next morning, she takes the streets of Versailles. Many Muggles see it as a city that used to be. Narcissa doesn't disagree, but the Wizarding part of it is still alive, even if not as thriving. It shimmers with magic: a cafe with cups, plates and cutlery flying around; an outdoor garden where a watering can is pouring water over a bed of flowers, a reading witch nearby to supervise; and the most obvious trait is the smell and feel of it. This magic is so potent in these cobbled streets, wandless tricks and trained appliances.
Narcissa stops by a flower shop. It has a beautiful display of Fire Flowers and blue Bouvardias. She makes up her mind in a quick second, slipping in and buying a bouquet of the silver daffodils that caught her eye, a vase of them in the corner of the display window.
Then she goes back out to re-learn the town. Narcissa gets coffee in a cafè she remembers liking because this is France and tea time isn't proper here. She sits at an outside table and people-watches with the faint memory of doing this same thing with Draco when he was younger except he would be eating ice cream and she would have a mug of herbal tea in hand.
"Do you know where the olive tree is?" asks Narcissa when she arrives back at the house. There's only one on the entire property, she knows this for sure, but it's been too long to remember exactly where.
Fiore nods eagerly, ears bobbing. "Over yonder hill," he chirps. "Mistress Narcissa can find it around the back." She nods once at him in acknowledgement and the House Elf beams before disappearing.
She slips a silver daffodil into her hair and carries the rest of the bouquet over the hill to the lone olive tree. It was a one-year wedding anniversary gift from Lucius to Narcissa. Planted by the House Elves, of course. The tree was supposed to represent peace - peace in their lives, peace at heart and peace at mind. The memories she has of it are her and Lucius kissing underneath it, Draco curled up under the shade to nap, and her, Draco and Lucius sitting together on a blanket with the branches hanging over them, eating a picnic of crepes, soup and souffles.
The old days have passed on to now, though. The old ways are fading, and she can tell, as she always can, that a new era is beginning. Narcissa believes she is going to stick to some of the old ways - the traditions of courting, as Draco is doing to Harry, and galas and fine quality where things are hand-crafted with care. However, Narcissa knows that she is open to change.
So she smiles, something deep and melancholic in her eyes. She sets down the silver flowers at the base of the tree, right where she would have sat with her boys, and doesn't linger as she strolls away, back to the house.
Narcissa decides that she will bring her family here again. Draco, Andromeda, Teddy and Harry.
Goodbye, Lucius. I love you. I miss you.
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