A/N: Here's the first chapter finally! Thanks for Az for being my beta. And thanks to all of YOU to reviewed the prologue. It means so much.


CHAPITRE UN: THINK OF ME

- January, 1979 -

It was the first of the year and it was anything but happy. Narcissa sat at the table in the sunroom, one leg pulled up to her chest with her chin resting on it. She was staring down at The Daily Prophet, wishing she'd ended her subscription after the divorce one year ago. Last night, she'd gone to a party and had far too much to drink. She'd fallen into bed with a dark-haired fellow, only to start crying as his hands roamed her body because his 'touch wasn't right'. Needless to say, the man had given her a strange look and then taken off, leaving her alone to think of Lucius. Once Narcissa had managed to pull herself and from the bed, she'd walked back out to the party and drank until someone (Regulus, if she could recall correctly) brought her home and deposited her into her bed. Now, only a few hours later, the Prophet was mocking her.

"Wedding Bells Are Ringing!

Lucius Malfoy announced yesterday that there is a new Mrs. Malfoy on the way: Jemima Selwyn. The bride-to-be was a classmate of Mr. Malfoy's previous wife, Narcissa Black. She's young and beautiful and is 'very happy' to be engaged to the prestigious Ministry official. As anyone could tell while in their presence, the couple is obviously madly in love—"

There was a knock on the door, calling Narcissa's attention. She'd read the article about seven times before; she didn't know why she kept doing it. It was torture, but at least she could read it now without crying. With a heavy sigh, Narcissa pushed herself away from the table, standing still as vertigo took over for a moment, and then headed for the door. Her blonde hair had grown long and she braided it most days, letting it fall over her shoulder. That's how it was now. She didn't care about her appearance as she pulled open the door, squinting because of the sun and the glistening snow.

"Did you see the Prophet this morning?" Bellatrix asked eagerly, her eyes shining. She'd never liked Lucius.

"If that's what you're here to talk about," Narcissa started off, turning away and walking into the small cottage, "then leave." She shot her sister a warning look over her shoulder, walking into the family room that was across the way from the kitchen. The cottage wasn't so bad. Narcissa did what she could to make it feel like a home.

"Cissy, you need to get over him," Bellatrix said, closing the door. She followed her sister into the family room, standing there wrapped in winter robes, clutching the Prophet with one hand.

"And you need to keep your legs shut," Narcissa snapped, meeting her sister's gaze. Her jaw was set, bracing herself for a fight. She wouldn't be told what to do (whom to love) in her own home.

Bellatrix's lips turned up into a cruel smile. She laughed, the sound echoing around the room, taunting Narcissa. "Jealous?" she asked, sinking into an oversized armchair. She crossed her legs, staring at her younger sister with one arched brow.

"Hardly," Narcissa scoffed, rolling her eyes halfway. She dragged her legs up onto the sofa and propped her elbow on the armrest to hold up her head. She stared at her sister and eventually shook her head. "I don't understand. You're married; what's the purpose of sleeping with other men?"

Bellatrix was silent, for the first time thinking about her answer. But all she offered was a shrug and a brief explanation. "You'll understand one day, once you've married again. I don't love Rodolphus—"

"I love Lucius," Narcissa interrupted, her voice firm.

"You can't have him, Narcissa," Bellatrix said irritably, her tone indicating that it was the end of the discussion. She was exasperated with her sister's persistence and wallowing.

Narcissa was quiet, flicking her eyes down to glance at a magazine on the table. She knew that she couldn't have Lucius, that that part of her life was over. But it didn't make the pain any duller. She knew she had to move on, for the sake of everyone around her, including herself. Narcissa didn't say anything; she merely fiddled with her hands in her lap, staring down at them. A moment later, Bellatrix was seated beside her on the sofa, one arm wrapping around her younger sister's shoulders tentatively. The blonde leaned into her older sister and felt a light kiss being dropped on her head.

"It's been a year," Bellatrix said softly. It wasn't typical of the elder sister to show affection; it got less and less the older she got. But Narcissa took it when she could. She looked up, staring into her sister's dark eyes. "He hasn't even bothered to contact you—"

"I know, Bella," Narcissa replied coolly. She didn't want to be reminded of that fact. He'd said he'd always love her, though… hadn't he meant it? She'd believed him with all her heart and first days passed with no contact, then weeks, then months and now it was almost a year to the date. No Lucius for a year. No soft kisses in the morning, no holding hands, no dancing, no sharing dessert…. Instead, she woke up next to men, recalling the sloppy sex from the night before. No one could compare to Lucius.

Next to her, Bellatrix readjusted herself, dropping her arm. "Are you going to the New Year's Party at Mum and Dad's manor?" she asked, standing up and looking down at her sister.

Narcissa looked up and nodded. "Yes, I'll be there."

Bellatrix smiled. "See you then, Cissy." She turned on her heel and headed out of the cottage. The door clicked behind her, signaling that she'd closed it, and Narcissa remained on the couch for another minute, cursing the silence.

oooOOOooo

Godric's Hollow was a small village where everyone knew each other. Narcissa had picked it because it was far away from everything familiar and was not an outskirt of a muggle village. The Malfoys had been surprised when she'd told them where she would be living and Abraxas had made some snide remark or other. It wasn't ideal, then again neither was the situation, and Narcissa had wanted a fresh start. That's exactly what she got. She lived next door to an older woman who took the time to make conversation and didn't seem to hold the divorce against Narcissa as some people did (many other purebloods). The lady, whose name was Poppy, was a widow. She had three grown children and five grandchildren, all ranging in ages from two to ten. Narcissa had met them a handful of times and was always a little jealous. For the most part, though, living in Godric's Hollow wasn't so bad.

Narcissa sighed as she made her way back to her cottage. It was a frigid, windy day and if she hadn't run out of mascara, she wouldn't even have been outside. Her scarf was wrapped around her neck, so it was just her face that was cold. She hurried back, being careful not to slip on the slick snow. As Narcissa approached her cottage, she stopped short. There was someone outside, standing on the stairs that led to the door. Not just someone. Lucius. After all this time. She stood in the street, staring at the man before her. He turned around at that moment, looking defeated, until his eyes found her. Even from where she stood yards away, Narcissa could see the hope in his eyes. They stared at each other for a moment before a group of rowdy teenagers on holiday bumped into the blonde witch by accident. She tripped forward, catching herself in time, and threw them a dirty look.

"Sorry, ma'am!" the pack leader called out as he and his friends galloped down the lane, laughing and messing around.

Taking a deep breath (the cold air stinging her lungs), Narcissa continued towards her cottage. She opened the gate and walked up to the stairs. She didn't ascend them, though; instead she stayed on the ground, staring up at Lucius. "What are you doing here?" she asked. It came out more harshly than she'd expected.

"I need to talk to you—"

"I saw the article," Narcissa cut him off coldly, no sympathy showing on her face. She didn't know what had come over her; she thought that, the moment she saw Lucius, she'd run into his arms and forget about everything. But her mind seemed to know better than her heart in his case.

Lucius stared down at her. His long hair was braided and resting against his back. His dress shoes were covered in snow. His face was red, obviously from the wind and the cold. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his coat. Narcissa thought he looked pitiful. But she'd rather stand out in the cold for hours before letting him into the cottage.

"Narcissa, please," Lucius said hastily. "I want to talk to you. Can we go inside?"

"No," she replied automatically. "This is my house and I'll decide who is allowed in and who isn't."

It might have been a twitch, but Narcissa could have sworn she'd seen the start of a smirk. "Your house that I'm paying for."

Instantly, Narcissa started to shake her head. Her hair, which was curled at the moment, bounced to and fro. "You're not really going to be that way with me, are you?" she asked, obviously taken aback. Lucius Malfoy played that card with everyone else, but he'd never gone down that route with her. It was irksome that he was doing it now. But staring up at him, Narcissa knew that he wasn't going to back down. She worked her jaw. "Move out of the way," she ordered.

Lucius smiled and stepped down from the stairs. Before he could even purposefully brush up against her, Narcissa was at the top of the stairs. She was going to unlock the door, slip inside and then slam the door in his face. He could camp out in her front garden all winter; she wasn't going to let him in her sanctuary. Maybe if he'd come months after their divorce, things would be different. But he'd made his choice and she wasn't it; he didn't deserve her time.

Maybe Bella's talk today helped, Narcissa thought as she pulled out her wand and pointed it at the doorknob. "Effringo," she whispered. Once she heard the click, Narcissa quickly pushed the door open and walked inside. She attempted to close the door just as quickly, but Lucius was already there and, as much as she hated it, he was stronger than she was.

"Nice try," Lucius said as he stepped into the warm cottage, closing the door.

Narcissa threw a glare his way. "Piss off."

"Narcissa, please—"

Lucius' hand was on her arm now, grasping it gently. Narcissa yanked her arm free and shrugged off her jacket, hanging it up neatly on the coat rack. She turned to face her ex-husband now, one hand on her hip. She stared blankly at him. "I'm not getting you anything to drink or eat," she informed him haughtily, as if implying that he was beneath her. "You can get it yourself. I need to finish getting ready. By the way, your timing is impeccable," she added sarcastically. She needed to be gone five minutes ago.

"Where are you going?" Lucius asked, following her down the hallway.

Narcissa glanced over her shoulder, her grip tightening on the mascara in her hand. She walked into the bedroom and headed into the adjoining bathroom. The cottage had two bedrooms and two bathrooms. She was aware of Lucius behind her the entire time. "My parents are having a party," Narcissa finally said in a somewhat regular tone as she stopped at the counter in the bathroom. She could see Lucius through the mirror, leaning against the doorframe. She uncapped the new mascara and leaned forward, beginning to apply it. "What is it you wanted to talk to me about?"

Lucius shifted against the doorframe and she knew he was feeling uncomfortable. She paused and met his eyes as they gazed at one another through the mirror. Narcissa gave him an encouraging smile and then started working on her lashes again.

"I don't love her," Lucius blurted. Narcissa paused briefly at this, wondering what in the world she was supposed to say. Thankfully, he kept on talking. "But, I… I needed to find someone. She's the most tolerable out of the others I've gone out with. None of them compare to you, though."

It didn't take the blonde long to finish with her eyes. She put the new mascara away silently, trying to think of something to say, and then grabbed her perfume. She rubbed some on her wrists and her neck, checked her hair and then turned around to face Lucius. "I don't know what you want me to say," Narcissa admitted cautiously. He stood there awkwardly, probably wishing he'd never come at all. Swallowing, she gripped the counter with her hands as she leaned against it. "D'you… do you love me?" Her voice was soft, careful.

Lucius nodded almost instantly. He took a few steps towards his ex-wife, trying to gauge if he could creep closer. When Narcissa made no attempt to ward him off, he finally stepped right up to her and placed his hands on her hips. "I do love you," he whispered, resting his forehead on hers. Narcissa closed her eyes. "Very much."

"I miss you," she whispered back, feeling as though she were on the verge of tears. Narcissa opened her eyes just as Lucius pulled his face away. They stared at each other for a moment and she wished he would kiss her. Just feeling his hands on her hips was driving her half mad. Just one kiss and the world might stop spinning. But the seconds ticked by and neither of them made a move. Finally, Narcissa sucked in her lips. She didn't want to leave, but she had to. "I need to go," she reminded him quietly.

"Right," Lucius said. He cleared his throat and stepped away from her. She slid by him and exited the bathroom. Her heels clicked along the hardwood floor as she made her way towards the front of the house, Lucius following her like a lost puppy. Narcissa grabbed her coat and pulled it on. She dared to look at her ex-husband again. He looked sheepish as he made his way towards the door. "I'll… I'll see you around."

Narcissa nodded, doing her best not to cry. She didn't respond. She watched him walk out of her life for the second time and her heart sank. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She held it for as long as she could before letting it spill from her lungs. Her eyes watered and Narcissa tipped her head back to stare at the ceiling so the tears wouldn't fall. When she finally got a grasp of herself, she walked outside as well, almost hoping Lucius would be there to surprise her. He wasn't. She disapparated; she could hear a bottle of wine calling her name.