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Discalimer: I am not, and have never been, J K Rowling - who is the owner and creatpr of Harry Potter and all recognisable content.

Chapter 4

Narcissa woke up slowly, stretching lazily on the green silk of her sheets. She glanced at the alarm clock on her bedside table and calculated that she could afford at least a few moments in bed thinking. Her eyes had not taken long to adjust – the gauzy fabric of her bed curtains did little to block the light, but it was not long after dawn and the sun had yet to illuminate the lake that lay beyond the windows – and Narcissa stared unseeingly up at the bed's canopy. She could hear the soft sounds of the other girls breathing deeply and was assured she had time for herself this morning.

They had been given their time-tables at the end of the feast last night and Narcissa contemplated the day ahead with slightly wary anticipation. Growing up surrounded by magic meant that Narcissa had a theoretical knowledge of a few basics, having seen her parents and acquaintances perform spells that seemed (to a child's eyes) utterly natural to them, as well as experiencing port keys and along-side apparation. Magic was her way of life, but up until now she had been more or less dormant in it. There had been signs, of course. It was fabled in family history that she had floated her favourite owl teddy from its place on the shelf into her cot when it had not been brought to her quick enough. She could almost remember when, at seven years old, she had blasted a squabbling Bellatrix and Andromeda to opposite ends of the drawing room. Aged ten, she had actually managed to apparate herself from her bedroom to the grounds when a house elf had been trying to cajole her into a party dress. Other than those rare occasions, however, she had been on the side lines of magic. As all of those actions had been involuntary after all, she was acutely aware that she was a novice with great things expected of her. Great things… with that thought Narcissa swung her legs out of bed and parted the fine material of her bed curtains. Greatness lay before her and she would not keep it waiting.

Like all house members, the Slytherins slept in dormitories; theirs however afforded more privacy to the occupants. Narcissa's bed was in an alcove connected to the rest of the dormitory, and the bathroom, by a stone arch way with a thick velvet curtain of bottle green that could be swept across or left open as her needs demanded. Already Narcissa was beginning to feel at home in the little space. Her things had been here when she arrived last night: Her trunk stood at the foot of the four poster bed, her robes hung in the wardrobe and her silver backed hair brush and hand mirror (which were heirlooms bearing the family crest) stood ready on the dresser.

Indeed, the room was so well suited to her needs that on reaching the floor her feet found the familiar warmth of her slippers. Standing up Narcissa was a little surprised to hear the crack of apparation. Spinning around she prepared to glare at the intruder…

"Floss has come to be of service now Mistress is getting up" the house elf declared proudly. Narcissa chastised her own forgetfulness. Her family kept around a dozen house elves and one, usually Floss, was always at Hogwarts to assist the daughters of the noble house of Black whenever were required. Floss was most popular for the job as she basically fulfilled the role of lady's maid – dressing their hair, smoothing any unanticipated creases from their clothes and generally fussing after their well-fare while their mother could only fuss through parchment and ink.

"Ahh Floss" Narcissa greeted "Thank you but no. I am sure my sisters will be awake soon, but that will be all for me this morning." With that Narcissa smiled and nodded her dismissal. She did not wish to be molly-coddled this morning and besides, the other girls would be waking up soon and she would not have herself seen as a show off if it turned out their families did not send an elf with them. She gathered her school robes and moved over to the bathroom, still in her cream silk nightdress and cashmere wrap.

Having showered, Narcissa dressed quickly and dried her hair as thoroughly as she could without magical assistance – eventually giving up on a perfect job. She tied her hair back in a simple chignon, hoping it would stay in place for the rest of the day. She came out of the bathroom to find the other girls in different stages of getting up. She simply nodded or said good morning to them, until Amelia came over to her in something of a rush and pleaded that Narcissa wait ten minutes and go down to breakfast with her. Seeing no harm in waiting Narcissa agreed and went to fetch her book and wait on the chaise in the main part of the dormitory.

….

Arriving in the Great Hall with Amelia and Helena – who had joined them as they headed out of the common room – Narcissa smiled a greeting to her sisters as she passed them and nodded to those she had met last night. The girls found a spot about half way down the Slytherin table and took seats together in a row. They chatted amicably, talking about their parents reactions to them leaving for school, when the post would arrive and of course, the day of lessons ahead. The second of September fell on a Wednesday and first year Slytherin's had a packed schedule ahead of them. The girls were just beginning to discuss what magic they had accomplished before when they were disturbed by the arrival of the post.

Owls swooped in from the high great windows, many bearing the long paper rolls of the Daily Prophet and a many also bearing smaller squares of parchment that indicated more personal correspondence. They swooped around the hall in a feathery whirl, intermittently birds would spot their quarry (or owner) and pitch themselves at a spot on one of the great tables. Looking up at the admittedly impressive spectacle, Narcissa spotted a flash of richer gold among the fluid mass of grey and brown. A moment later her Father's Phoenix 'Phineas' (a proud Black family name for a proud Black family bird) landed on the table before her. Breaking the waxy seal bearing the Black family crest and absently offering Phineas the crust of her toast, Narcissa began to read…