"She puzzled the mystery of her desperate
need of kindness. As other girls
prayed for handsomeness in a lover,
or for wealth, or for power, or for
poetry, she prayed fervently:
let him be kind."
Anais Nin
It was two in the morning and she stood in the freezing corridor with her arms crossed, glancing around for Filch or Mrs. Norris in front of the Potions classroom. She leaned against the wall and sighed heavily. It was the evening before exams, and while Narcissa would have gladly preferred to study or otherwise occupy her time with something more worthwhile, she was compelled by loyalty to remain rigid in the hallway, glancing around for disturbances to alert Mara of anyone coming. The one she most feared, however, was not a nosy cat, or even Dumbledore, but her Prefect sister, Andromeda. She would rather be suspended by the chains in Filch's office than be caught wandering the castle by her sister.
"Might you finish soon?" Narcissa hissed, her teeth chattering.
She was only wearing her pajamas and didn't have the chance to dress appropriately, as Mara yanked her out of the common room without warning. Narcissa heard soft clinks of glass as Mara rummaged in the supply closet in the classroom. With a sigh, Narcissa twisted the classroom door knob and peered in. Mara perched her wand on one of the shelves for light as she looked over the ingredients quickly.
"I'm tired," she whined.
Unlike Mara, she was not a night owl, and her bed time was long overdue.
"I'm almost done, Cissy, be quiet!" Mara said.
"If Andy catches me, she'll tell my mum," Narcissa complained, "And take a thousand points from Slytherin."
"Five more minutes, I promise!" she pleaded.
Narcissa frowned but shut the classroom door and stood outside it again. The dungeons were quiet except for the tiny shuffling sound from the classroom. She angled her body to the left of the corridor, dreaming of her bed, the soft pillow that she should have been resting her head against. She did quick math, deducing that she would have hardly any sleep to get her through the day. She might fall asleep through some of her classes. She leaned against the door frame and closed her eyes. Her eyes burned from exhaustion. She drifted somewhat into a comfortable lull, a partial sleep. It was deep enough that she didn't notice the figure approaching her from behind.
"Narcissa?" a voice remarked incredulously in the shadows behind her.
She jolted and turned around. Lucius was standing in the corridor, his features partially obscured in the darkness. The tip of his wand was lit, and she could see his sharp, pointed features and luminescent hair in the light.
"Oh, hello," she said coolly, a thrill of fear and hot embarrassment shot through her with a jolt, "I was just…"
"You were just…?" he repeated, smirking.
"I was lost," she lied.
"Lost," he repeated, "Perhaps I should give you another swing at that."
"Sleep walking?" she added helplessly.
"Helping someone, probably Mara, steal from the potions classroom?" Lucius suggested.
"No!" she said, gravely, "I wouldn't dare."
He nodded his head. "Of course. Then it's quite all right if I just pop in really quick to check—"
Narcissa gulped and slid in front of the door to block him with her small frame. "No! I mean, why?" she asked, hurriedly, "I was just standing here, that's all. A little late-night stroll. No reason to launch a big investigation."
"I should turn you in to Slughorn," he said quietly, "Or take points from Slytherin, really."
Her temper flared suddenly. "You wouldn't," she said, narrowing her eyes. He was a Prefect, sure, but not a very good one. He no more followed the rules than any of them did, in fact, he was worse.
"What potion is Mara trying to brew?" he asked sternly and then added when she glared at him, "Narcissa. I'm your Prefect."
Narcissa let out an exasperated sigh. "…Veritaserum…"
He sighed and lifted his palm against the classroom door above her head and swung it open wide. She moved away from him as he strode into the room. Mara was hunched over a book and a pile of ingredients, silently mouthing as she counted out and measured each ingredient. She jumped when Lucius entered and scattered away from the table, knocking some of the ingredients to the floor.
"Sorry, Mara," Narcissa said, shrugging her shoulders, "I tried to stop him, but he's being a very thorough Prefect tonight. For the first time."
"Veritaserum?" Lucius asked, approaching the table. He spread out the ingredients that she didn't scatter to the floor. "That's a very complex potion. It takes nearly a month to brew."
"I'm aware of its complexities," Mara replied snidely.
Lucius sighed. "Then you know I can't let you brew it."
"What if you just turned around," Narcissa said, walking up to him. She wrapped her arm around his elbow and tried to pull him from the room, but he remained firmly planted, "Pretend you saw nothing. Just me, wandering the corridor. You can just take me back to bed!"
Lucius stared at her incredulously.
"No," he said firmly, and turned back to Mara, "I can't let you steal from the Potions storeroom because you're making a potion that you don't have enough experience with to make correctly, and no doubt, will use it on Zabini to uncover his secrets before you marry him."
"I'll have you know, Parkinson's are renowned Potion masters," Mara huffed. "My father—"
"Your father is renowned," He interrupted icily, "not you."
Mara glared and picked up her wand. "Malfoy, step down," she growled, "before I have to put you down."
He ripped his arm from Narcissa's and stepped up to her. He towered over her—Mara was even smaller than Narcissa, whose head stopped just beneath his chin—but Mara was hardly bothered by his height. She pulled her wand to her chest and glared hotly.
"Go back to the common room," he commanded, his voice low, "Go before you regret it."
"Mara," Narcissa said soothingly, "Let's go. Lucius just wants us to be safe."
"Safe?" she spat, "He just wants to interfere. I'm not listening to your boyfriend, Cissy, and neither should you."
An explosion from Mara's wand emitted, throwing Lucius and Narcissa backward across the classroom. Narcissa crashed into a desk and rolled over it. She fell onto her back. A cloud of purple smoke hissed from the end of Mara's wand. She had gripped it so tightly that it went off by accident. As they shook themselves from a daze, Mara scooped the ingredients into her bag and fled the room. Narcissa untangled herself and stood up. Lucius stayed on the floor, looking furious. She held her arm out to help him up, and she took it. She pulled him to his feet and he glared at her.
"What're you glaring at me for?" she snapped, "I told you to leave it alone!"
"You're out wandering in the middle of the night and stealing ingredients to make a potion that's far above your skillset!" he hissed.
"I wasn't going to brew anything!" she retorted, "I was just the lookout, so don't get cross with me!"
"Being compliant in rule breaking is still breaking the rules," he retorted.
Narcissa pulled away from him, stunned. "Since when do you care about the rules?" she asked, and furiously, she pushed past him, knocking hard into his shoulder. She stalked down the corridor in a rage. He called after her, but she ignored him.
"Pureblood!" she yelled at the stone wall and barely waited for it to completely slide apart before she went down the dungeon steps and shoved the door open.
The Slytherin common room was silent and cool, and her footsteps on the marble echoed across the room. The stairs creaked as she rushed up them, uncaring of whom she woke. Mara was in the dorm when she entered, but she didn't speak to her. Narcissa climbed into bed and closed the hangings. She laid on her side and burned with rage until she finally fell asleep.
She slammed her things around in the morning when she woke, still angry with Mara for coaxing her into sneaking out, and furious with Lucius for trying to intercede. Her best friend was just as angry with her, and so they left separately and didn't speak. She was exhausted and sore from Mara jinxing her, admittedly by accident, and so she skipped breakfast and went immediately to her classes for her exams. Mara chose to sit elsewhere and ignore her in Potions, and Narcissa was too angry to bother making amends after they finished.
The day wore on, specifically terrible, and she skipped History of Magic and Charms, feigning illness, and went back to her dorm to sleep. She slept, but it was fitful. She woke up and turned constantly, not quite able to find a comfortable way to lie. Finally, she shoved a pillow over her face and tried to block the noise from the common room after classes were over. Dinner came and went, and she remained, fuming. It was unlike her to lie in bed all day, the way that her mother and Bellatrix could.
Near ten o'clock, the other girls entered the dorm, chatting merrily, but she left the hangings closed and moodily stared up at the velvet, emerald cover, wishing she were miles away from here. Soon, their voices turned to soft snores, and Narcissa rolled over and fell asleep again too.
On Saturday morning, she woke well-rested and less irritable. She pulled the hangings apart and stared. Mara was sitting on the edge of her bed, hands in her lap, staring at the floor, clearly waiting for Narcissa to rouse.
"I need your help," she spoke quietly, "I managed to get every ingredient but one thing, and I think it's in Slughorn's office stockroom. I just need to sneak in and—"
"No," Narcissa interrupted, "No more. I won't lose house points or get detention over this matter anymore."
Mara sneered. "You mean you won't risk your engagement to Lucius Malfoy. For your best friend."
"I asked Lucius if he believed Candra posed a direct threat to your burgeoning writing career, and he said no."
Narcissa stood up and dressed quickly. She pulled her hair loose from her braid and let it fall in soft tendrils down her back. She quickly slipped her shoes on and opened the dormitory door. Quickly, she pulled her cloak over her shoulders.
"And you expect me to believe him?" Mara asked, following behind her closely, "I can't trust him."
There were few milling in the high backed chairs by the fire. She slipped small diamond earrings into her ear as she walked across the threshold.
Narcissa whipped around, clenching her fingers into her palms, "I TRUST HIM. I TRUST HIM. AND THAT SHOULD MEAN SOMETHING TO YOU!"
She stormed from the common room out into the cold dungeons. She opened the wide oak doors and stepped into the frosty air. A blanket of snow covered the grounds and snow fell lightly as she pulled her hood up. A daring girl would go into the forest, greet the many monsters that might lurk within, but she was in no mood for the enchantment of trees. She stormed off to the greenhouses instead and pushed one open blindly—it was the seventh year greenhouse, larger than the fifth year one, with wide wooden tables and metal stools.
Narcissa wasn't one to cry. She hardly recalled a real time over the age of six that she cried and meant it, really meant it, and so she seethed instead. She sat down on the stool and tried to coax the tumultuous rage to lull within her. Mara was coming undone about her marriage. Narcissa was sympathetic, but she also knew it was going to happen. By all standards, Mara was coming out on top. She wasn't marrying Eugene Bulstrode, the overlarge, burly man with more eyebrow than brains.
She cradled her forehead in her palm and sniffed as tears welled up in her eyes and started to fall, small splattering droplets onto the wood. She knew their freedom was on a timer, slowly ticking away until the day came where they knew who it was they were going to share a prisoned life with. The world was closing in on Mara, and Narcissa wasn't ignorant of that fact, but a part of her was hurt. Mara was afraid of losing her ability to write. Narcissa was afraid of losing her best friend. Years would pass by them once she was married, and they wouldn't speak. They would become Garden Club members together, sharing tiny bits of gossip, never mind that only a few short years before, they were enveloped in one another's world. There was no love like a best friend. And there was no pain quite like the loss of one.
The greenhouse door opened, but she managed to wipe her tears quickly and straightened her back. She was Narcissa Black, lest she ever forget, and there was no room for weakness. She listened as the door snapped closed quietly, but the footsteps didn't walk over to her.
"Why do you trust me?" the voice called, echoing around the greenhouse. "I threatened to tell Slughorn on you, I refused to let you and Mara concoct that potion. I did nothing to earn your trust, and yet you shouted it, in the common room—in front of me, in front of our house. You declared it to your closest friend. Forgive me, Narcissa, but I have not always been exceptionally loyal to you. So why put your trust in me?"
Narcissa stared at the ivy melting out of a pot onto the floor, the leaves flashing bits of silver across a deep green. The leaves looked something like a serpent's tongue.
She sniffed but didn't answer him. He sighed in frustration and swept across the room. He pulled her by the arm around the stool and pinned her against the table, his arms on either side of her. He searched her features earnestly, but Narcissa was cool and unwavering.
"I'm not good for you," he said, "I'm not worthy of your trust, Narcissa. I will break it. Again and again. I'm not good."
"What does it matter?" she asked, "We're friends."
"We're not friends," he said coldly.
She turned her chin up at him. "I trust your word when you tell me Candra Zabini is decent and will not hurt Mara, then. Fine. If that's as far as you want it to go—"
"It's so much more than that!" Lucius interrupted, "Tell me you feel it. Tell me you know what it is. My heart nearly rips out of my chest at the sight of you. I barely feel alive if I'm not near you, and that terrifies me. I can't put into words what this is."
Narcissa was shocked, entirely stunned into silence. She opened her mouth to say something but closed it. He looked crestfallen. She sighed heavily, her fingers were shaking, as she reached up and touched her throat. Blacks were not sentimental. Strong, silent, above all, resilient. To remain pure also meant pure of heart, without emotion. Without love. Love was a weakness not one of them could afford.
"I know it," she said softly, swallowing hard, "I feel it."
He rested his forehead against hers and sighed. Her eyes fluttered closed and she listened to her heart hammering in her chest, beating so fast her body seemed to be jolting. His hands ran up her waist slowly, all the way to her neck. He cupped her face with his hands and suddenly he was kissing her. But her sister was not there to stop them, to stop the electric current between them from taking over.
He laid her down against the table and lithely sprang over her body, unclasping her cloak at the throat and kissing down her body. She inhaled heavily his body pressed against hers. Her hands were in his hair, untying the band, freeing his hair to fall loose around his shoulders. He kissed her with a hunger she hadn't known was there, with such ferocity that she couldn't breathe. They were connected to one another, she felt it, some sort of invisible thread that pulled them together constantly. Her entire body was on fire from him and she begged for more of him—she craved more of him, all of him, every single inch of his body and soul.
She pressed her spine into the table and arched her hips into him, and he groaned. His hands were messily running all over her, making her blood sing. She whimpered as his mouth left her bruised lips and kissed down her body. She couldn't bare it. She grit her teeth as he pulled her robes up her thighs and replaced the fabric with his mouth. And soon he was all over her, his mouth on her pelvis, sliding his tongue to places not even Narcissa had explored, and she clenched her thighs, gasping. She was the goddess and he knelt at her altar, giving, giving, giving.
An explosion rippled through her spine and she felt light headed. His mouth moved to her thighs and back up her body. Her legs fell limp against the table.
"How...?" she murmured weakly.
"Shh," he murmured, kissing her neck, his fingers running up her thigh.
He kissed her until the pounding in her loins subsided and their breathing returned to normal.
"Why shouldn't I trust you?" she asked him in the stillness.
He leaned up and propped his head up with her elbow. He ran his hand down her ribcage.
"I think I would sorely disappoint you," he murmured, "Maybe not now, but one day. I might make the wrong decision. You might grow to hate me."
She shifted her head to look at him. "You can't hold people at arm's length because you're afraid of what might happen."
"I know," he said, "but what if I lost you? What if I did something that you couldn't forgive?"
"Build a foundation worth coming back to," Narcissa said, "Even if I'm lost. Build something I'll always come home to. No matter what you do."
He nodded his head. "I'm afraid."
"If you weren't, it wouldn't matter," she said softly.
And just like that, something was born in her that she couldn't define, something so much bigger than her, something she could hardly explain. She didn't know it, but this was what love looked like.
