Narcissa sauntered confidently down the halls to where her normal compartment was, feeling perfectly elated at how well things had transpired. She had him completely fooled and he didn't have a clue what was in store for him. He probably just thinks I'm some simpering ninny who has fallen captive under his 'oh so charming' spell. Narcissa thought gleefully. Oh, how she would loved to see his faced when he tried to open the pocket watch, too bad he'll never be able to, she though cheerily, ignoring the stab of pain that stabbed through her heart. Lucius had no idea that the pocket watch was, in fact, charmed. In order to open the pocket watch, one had to have a very particular gift that she was positive he did not possess.
Narcissa arrived at her usual compartment with a start, taking in the scene before her. There was a boy sitting in her compartment, in her compartment. She wasn't angry, simply confused. This had never been allowed before. Nobody was allowed in her compartment, expect Lucius and however he brought along with him. She sized him up quickly, not wanting to be caught staring. There was something different about him… She was positive she had never seen him before in all her years at school. He had immaculately styled jet black hair, his features were sharp, and though she was only seeing his through a window on the compartment door, she could readily see that he held himself with an air of composure and assurance. He was also looking straight at her.
She tried her best not to recoil as she found his scorching eyes on her. However almost as soon as she noticed his gaze, he has gone back to staring fixatedly out the window of the now moving train, seemingly unbothered by her presence. Narcissa couldn't pretend that she didn't feel snubbed by the action. Here she was, about to enter her compartment, noticing a strange and admittedly absurdly handsome boy sitting inside it, and she hadn't been able to hold his gaze for more than a mere moment? That just wasn't boding well with her. She felt her instinctive temper flare dangerously. Just as Narcissa was about to barge in and demand he leave her compartment, an elf appeared at her side.
"Miss Black!" It squeaked worriedly, cowering slightly as though in anticipation of something unpleasant. She did not like the looks of what was happening.
"Yes?" She questioned with ice in her eyes. There had to be some kind of reasonable explanation. She could almost hear it now, Whoops! Sorry Miss Black, we'll get this guy out of your compartment in just a jiffy! Sorry for the inconvenience! Narcissa held back the urge to snort.
"Petal call ahead of time, did she. And reserved compartment in Malfoy name, true she did. But there was only one compartment left, and afraid we are that Prince Poole had also requested a less occupied compartment. And since all of the other compartments were quite full, we thought maybe two people would be considered less crowded and acceptable. I know, Master Malfoy may not be thoroughly please, but, oh, Miss Black we is so s-sorry-" The elf babbled on, grinding on Narcissa's last nerve.
Narcissa gave the elf a questioning stare, trying her best to remain calm. She had been struck by the title.
"Prince Poole? From where does he hail?" She questioned sharply. Irritated as she was that her compartment had, once again, been requested under the Malfoy name, she was even more infuriated that this so-called Prince was apparently more of a priority than her.
"Why, Prince Poole is from Italy, Miss Black." The elf gave her a pleading look, as though silently begging her not to make a scene. She stole a quick glance back inside the compartment, noting that the Prince was still staring out the window. She sighed heavily.
"I will make do." She answered as genially as she could muster.
"Oh! Thank you Miss!" Said the elf quickly, disapperating before she could change her mind.
Narcissa steeled herself silently, regaining her composure before opening the door. She did so as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb her unwanted companion and subject herself to unwanted attention. She sat down on the bench opposite of him and fiddled with her hands, which lay in her lap, for a brief moment, trying to decide what to do with her time. Normally she would sleep or read, but she felt rather uncomfortable at the idea of doing either with someone she did not at all know sitting in such close proximity. She quickly became lost in thought and his unexpected voice startled her,
"I am sorry to have imposed on your regular arrangements, madam." His voice sounded like silk felt, soft and gentle; void of any flaw. His Italian accent rang clear in each word he spoke. It was absolutely mesmerizing and for a second, Narcissa forgot to breathe. Her eyes flew to his face, searching for some clue as to who he was. She noticed his eyes were still, oddly enough, not on her, but trained carefully out the window.
"That is quite alright, Mr…?" She hinted, hoping to further their conversation.
"Poole." He answered kindly enough. Still, she pressed on further.
"Oh, I'm quite sorry. I suppose I should have said Prince," She smile with something not unlike curiosity in her gleaming eyes, which having his eyes finally on her face, she immediately knew that he intercepted. She saw a slight smiling tugging at the corners of his lips. He bowed his head almost imperceptibly at her,
"Please, do call me Royal" He replied kindly, something like a shadow of a smile dancing in his eyes.
Narcissa raised an eyebrow at him quizzically.
"Why not save you the bother of simply hinting at your royal status, and simply call you Prince?" Narcissa rolled her eyes in an almost flirtatious fashion, her eyes resting once more on his strange yet beautiful face.
She thought she almost heard him chuckle softly, though she couldn't be sure.
When he offered no other explanation other than a slight smile, she prompted him further,
"Am I really to call you royal? Not even Prince?" She sighed almost theatrically. "Don't you have a preferred nickname? Or are Prince's above that?" She raised an eyebrow again, daring him.
He almost smiled once more, something unrecognizable flashing briefly in his eyes.
"It is my name." He answered simply, seeming completely aloof. She had the intense feeling that he wasn't telling her the entire truth, she itched to say just that, but decided against it.
She decided to try another tactic instead, matching his demeanor. In response she simply nodded in understanding, flicking her gaze to the view outside. It was a while before he spoke again,
"May I ask your name?" She heard the words, but was unsure whether or not she wanted to answer. She wasn't sure why, but she hadn't been able to decide whether or not she felt she should speak with him any more than she already had. He gave her the impression of being kind, but also, underlying, somewhere deep within that she was not able to see fully, she had the feeling the he was dangerous. She couldn't be sure why she felt it, it made no sense to her. But she did feel it, and she felt somewhat inclined to honor her cautious foreboding.
Narcissa turned her head slightly to look at this new boy, she barely heard him and, had she not looked, it would've been easy enough to pretend she truly hadn't. But she would be lying if she said she was not intrigued by him. She gave him a contemplating look, as though she was sizing him up, assessing him to see if it was worth the effort to speak. Finally, she answered.
"Narcissa Black." She stated simply, trying her best to remain aloof.
"What, no nickname?" He said almost coyly. Her felt her eyebrows knit together before making her face back into the perfect mask of indifference.
"A lady never goes by name which is not her own." She replied almost stiffly, somewhat irritated that he has used her teasing words against her, especially after not at all reacting to them as she would have liked.
She was positive that this time she really did hear him chuckle, a deep rumbling sound, but she refused to remove her eyes from the window to look.
He seemed to take the hint and left them to sit in silence for some long period of time.
Narcissa was left to ponder things over in her mind. Who was Prince Poole? Poole doesn't sound like a very Italian name. It sounds as English as they come! And what about his strange behavior…
Narcissa was completely against analyzing the fact that she was acting strange herself. She began with an almost arrogant front, which turned to questioning, than flirtatious, and lastly irritated and aloof. She couldn't blame him for being confused. How was this stranger supposed to keep up with her ever changing moods? She wasn't truly angry with him; she knew that, she was mostly just thrown off that he was here still, in her compartment. In all of her previous years at Hogwarts she had never, ever, been able to have such a private conversation with any male who wasn't Malfoy himself. No wonder she was unsure of how to react. She had no experience! Something she was far too embarrassed to admit. At the end of her ponderings, she realized that she was painfully embarrassed for her behavior, and left with the oddest feeling to truly get to know this curious boy in her compartment. She felt as though she had jumped out of her skin when she heard his unexpected voice,
"So, Narcissa, are you quite ready to continue talking to me, or are you to continue pretending I am no longer here?" He asked, amusement ringing in his voice. Narcissa felt her eyes widen as a pretty blush sprang to her cheeks.
"I'm not ignoring you, Prince Poole. I've been quite lost in thought." She retorted with as much calmness has she could muster. She was embarrassed that he was so blunt, as no man should ever be in the presence of a lady. She felt the strong urge to remind him of that.
"May I kindly remind you, though I may not be a princess, I am indeed a lady, and such bold tones and blunt words are most certainly not permitted in the presence of such." She had meant to finish with a degree of steel in her voice, but truly it just came out sounding huffy and girly. Narcissa scowled at her own failure to penetrate her irritation into her words adequately.
"Quite well spoken," Narcissa's head snapped up at the voice. She knew that voice. Oh, no… Naricssa thought drearily. It was none other than Sabrina Zambini. An obnoxiously close friend of Lucius' and a terrible reminder to Narcissa that she could never outrun his reach.
Narcissa put on her mask of indifference, watching the perplexed, yet almost cold look, which Prince Poole was giving Sabrina. She, however, she had it matched perfectly with a lack of utter distain on her, which held a strong resemblance to a pug.
"Narcissa, I simply came to check on you. You do know how careful he is." She smirked coldly at Narcissa, completely ignoring Prince Poole now, who looked thoroughly confused, though guarded.
Narcissa held the gaze of the other girl in a way that evidently said, bitch please. Sabrina shifted her stance slightly; obviously uncomfortable with how little of an effect she was able to have on Narcissa.
"Yes, well, I just thought you should know that I will be writing him a full report of the account I've witnessed." She spat smugly.
Narcissa raised an eyebrow at the girl, staying unnervingly calm. "Oh? And what have you to report?" She asked levelly, no emotion filtered through her words.
Uncertainty flashed across Sabrina's face briefly as she made a vague motion around them, "W-well," She stuttered, "you know!" She snapped angrily, her brown eyes narrowed in distain. "You can't continue to throw yourself at everyone now that he isn't with you at all times. He was smart enough to know you would try, which is why those who know what's good for them will be reporting all of your mishaps pronto." She snarled triumphantly, not noticing that Prince Poole was present, still taking everything in with a strange look on his face.
At the mention of Lucius', that's what threw her under, she decided. Narcissa stood up carefully, slowly, in a level and decisive way. She was roughly the same size as Sabrina, and though Sabrina herself was evidently more physically able than Narcissa's delicate form, Narcissa's power and aura were undeniable. She stood, face to face with the girl whom she hated, not only because she had been glued to Lucius' arm all last year, but because she knowingly threw it in Narcissa's face as though it was something to be proud about. Narcissa thought Sabrina was a cheap whore, and worse than that, she knew that Sabrina was proud to be. She knew that Sabrina was wishing for the chance to become Lucius's first "Malfoy Mistress" the moment that Narcissa and Lucius were married. Sabrina thought she was bringing pain to Narcissa by being with Lucius as his undeclared fling, and even though it had hurt Narcissa that he would choose to even associate with those who weren't even remotely kind to her, she wasn't affected by anything that Sabrina had done. Lucius was the only one whose actions had stung. No, Sabrina was far too insipid to bother her.
Narcissa gave her the coldest look she could muster, watching with a sick malevolence as she saw the other girl cringe slightly in trepidation.
"Leave." Narcissa's voice was ice covered steel, holding a malice that would've made Lucifer himself quiver with fear. Sabrina let out a small yelp and scurried out the door, not even bothering to throw a look of contempt over her shoulder as she left. Narcissa shut and locked the compartment door, drawing the curtain over the windows.
She turned stiffly, feeling his eyes on her, and sat back down on her side of the compartment, not sparing a glance his way.
Narcissa didn't have anything to say, and she was hoping that he would keep his thoughts to himself, not knowing how much more she could take. The unnecessary reminder that Lucius' hold over her stretched farther than the Hogwart's Express cold ever possibly take her was more than she needed to hear. She already knew it, why did the world insist on throwing it in her face?
She sighed heavily at how this day as been shaping up to be. She hated it already. Not that she wished to start over, no she didn't want to have to live through seeing Lucius all over again. But she wished things had gone differently. Mostly she wished that she had been alone on the train, that she could have taken a nice nap, that she could have day-dreamed by herself about what her dream future would be like, that she could have never had to see Lucius' stupid followers, that she had never met…
She stopped suddenly, unsure if she really meant what she had been about to think. Do I wish I hadn't met Royal? She felt strange thinking his name in such an informal way as she asked herself, unsure of what her answer truly, honestly was. She stole a glance at his form; he had charmed the bench into the bed it was meant to become and was facing, on his side, away from her. He was taking deep, measured breaths and appeared to be sleeping. She thought about her situation for a moment, stunned at how they had arrived at this point. She thought about Lucius finding out that, not only was there a boy he did not know in her compartment with the door locked and curtains drawn!, but he was comfortable enough with her presence to sleep in the same space as her. She shook her head ruefully, feeling the curls that had fallen from her pony tail gently brush her face. She imaged what Lucius would say to her. Then, remembering what Sabrina had told her about writing to him, she blanched, knowing that she would indeed find out exactly what he had to say about it.