To the lovely people, who were kind enough to read or even review/like my take on the Hermione/Narcissa story:

I am very sorry for me not updating this story for so long. Apparently I'm not too good at writing regularly... Sorry!

As always I do not own any of the characters. I only write this fanfiction for the pure fun of writing it.

And – since I am no native speaker – I am very sorry for every mistake I make – grammar or spelling wise. I'm always very grateful for any comment or advise and I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. But enough said. :)

Love & Peace, xoxo

– Don't ya see I'm dying –

She takes a hot bath and furiously tries to scrub off all of last night's dirt and disgust. Thick steam fills the room. She finally stopps when her skin is all raw and pink. She then pulls up her knees to her chest, wraps her arms around her legs, burries her face in her knees and starts sobbing. Her wet hair hides her face.

Luckily Lucius isn't home. And he didn't spend the night home either. Instead he probably spent another hot night with one of his many sex kittens. Barely old enough to legally drink but beautiful and youthful – that's the kind of girl her husband is into. Young, beautiful witches that admire the blond wizard and look up to him.

If Lucius would see her like this he would only laugh at her. He wouldn't even pity her anymore. He would only be disgusted by the pathetic sight. She was no longer the woman he married all those years ago. The years have taken their toll on her. And Lucius Malfoy most definitely does not like it.

So he doesn't touch her anymore. He hasn't touched her for quite some time now. He still used to fuck her once in a while. Whenever he came home dead drunk. Or whenever he failed the Dark Lord again. But even when he fucked her to vent he didn't really touch her. He didn't even look at her. And she didn't mind. She didn't despise him. Instead she felt as if it was what she deserved. After all, Lucius was a very busy man as well as a powerful wizard. So he deserves a woman that pleases him. But in the course of the last years Narcissa must have lost that ability; the ability to please her husband. Maybe he is right after all. She isn't who she used to be anymore. And the days when she could get whatever she wanted – from both men and women – simply by fluttering her eyelashes are over.

How could she not have noticed her best days to be finally over? Not even those dirty drunks seemed to fancy her. They thought of her as some wasted and run-down hag that maybe has been beautiful once. And maybe they are right. She is merely a shadow of her former self. And what's even worse: She let a Mudblood touch her. The blonde tries to surpress that certain memory. The curly haired girl that always pokes her nose into other people's affairs that are infact none of her business. Narcissa despises such nosiness. But more than nosiness she despises dirty blood lines. And last night she actually let a dirty Mudblood touch her. Not in a sexual way of course. But still. Last night a moodblood was the one to accompany her home. Narcissa was a disappointment for all the pure blood wizards. The Mudblood girl doesn't need to care about any of those things. Nobody would care about a thing she does. Maybe the war changed this. Since they also started calling her the Golden Girl. A name that seemed to be utterly inappropriate. She will always be a Mudblood. No war could ever change a thing about her blood status. But for a pure blood witch like Narcissa it matters what kind of people you surround yourself with. The war couldn't possibly change that. It couldn't possibly change people's ways of thinking. And still. Last night Narcissa Malfoy was accompanied by that Mudblood girl. An idea that probably would make any real pure blood sick to the stomach. At a time that most certainly wasn't one of the brightest in Narcissa's life she was accompanied by a Mudblood. As if the situation wasn't already bad enough for Narcissa it was a Mudblood that accompanied her. Strangely enough, the girl didn't seem to care; neither for the state Narcissa was in nor for the fact that it was Narcissa in the first place. How very weird of her. After all, Narcissa is one notorious pure blood witch that has rather been known for her intriguingly beautiful looks as well as the fact that she thinks of blood status as being of particular importance. And still: Last night she let some dirty Mudblood touch her. This is how deep Narcissa Malfoy has sunk. Once well-respected and even feared; desired and sought-after; once stunning and some would even say dead-drop gorgeous.

But when did it all change? She must have been too occupied with raising her beloved Draco, being the wife she was expected to be, and surviving this horrible war in order to notice the change.

She feels miserable. Disgusted by her own crying she hits her fist hard against the wall's ceramic tiles. Again and again. As the skin breaks and her knuckles start bleeding, a trickle of bright red blood runs down the tiles and into the hot bath water. She sees it but doesn't feel anything. Red drops float into the water, billow through the water until they vanish. But even as the blood vanishes in the clear water the deep pain inside Narcissa remains. Inside her there seems only pain left.

Narcissa gets out of the bathtub. The blood is still driping from her hand. She grabs her wand and with a smooth flick of her wand she empties the tub. Drops of water tickle down her body. She eyes herself in a floor-length mirror but it's not the usual sight she sees. She looks tired and exhausted. Her once flawless body is now coverd in cuts and bruises. She is emaciated and both her hip bones as well as her ribs clearly stand out. It's a shame.

Another flick of her wand and she casts a Glamour Charm to cover up all the flaws. Only it cannot cover up her soul's scars. However, those scars are not visible; at least not at first sight. So who could possibly ever discover them by now. Since it would take them more than a quick glace to discover them. Times have changed. By now nobody cares enough. Apart from her beloved Draco. But she doesn't see him very often since he has moved in with his aunt. He did the right thing though.

Narcissa isn't sure anymore if she would ever be able to recover her position in the magical community. She feels more alienated than ever. After the war ended she cannot count on the support of her so called friends anymore. Most of them are either in hinding or have been arrested. Does she miss them? She misses belonging. She misses the backing. But does she miss someone in particular?

Her skin is covered in goosebumps. She shivers so she gets dressed. She picks clothes Lucius would despise since he thinks of them as Muggle clothes. Narcissa though likes the soft fabrics and the unorthodox design. And she likes the fact that she can walk the streets of London and can actually loose herself in the city's anonymity. She can be sure that nobody will recognise her. Nobody knows her; nobody knows her name; nobody knows her family; nobody knows about her past. There she finally can feel free for once – a feeling she savours.

She leaves her bedroom and makes her way downstairs into the Manor's kitchen. At her arrival two tiny houseelves quickly flee the scene. Narcissa is left alone in the big country-style kitchen. She searches the cabinets and in the last one she finally finds a half emptied bottle of Single Malt Whiskey. She quickly got used to the soothing liquor. Although she knows it won't solve any of her problems in the long run it seems to help in the short term. The drinking is dispelling any negative thoughts or emotions Narcissa may have. And at least for the moment she can forget her miserable life.

Grabbing the bottle she goes back into her bedroom and locks the door behind her.

tbc