Quidditch League Season 8: Kenmare Kestrels: Chaser 2: fear (deception)
optional prompts: (word) glitter (song) tightrope (colour) gold
word count: 1765
I would like to thank my lovely team for the support and beta-ing! *hugs*
have you ever thrown glitter in the air?
Even as a little girl, she was fascinated by glitter. When she held it in her tiny hands, the particles looked so simple, dull and natural, like they were merely dust or sand. But when thrown into the air, they shone in the sunlight in the most beautiful way.
She almost envied them for the little effort it took them to transform themselves into something completely different. Sometimes, she wished, she could do the same.
Mostly because people would always talk about her behind her back. They'd think they knew everything about her. She was born a Black, so naturally, prudence, selfishness and arrogance are coded in her oh-so-pure blood. All they have always seen are the fame and fortune she inherited. Where others had to work to earn their livings, Narcissa was downright drowning in money and jewelry—such that by the time she was seven, the blonde girl decided to sort her possessions according to value of raw material: necklaces, bracelets, rings and earrings made of gold stored in the upper drawer of her jewelry case, less expensive ornaments in the bottom one. Adornments laced with sparkling diamonds were stored somewhere else entirely. Naturally, people assumed that once she got bored of the pieces she had, she only needed to smile at her father to be given something even more precious.
However, what most witches on the outside didn't realize was that it was just the prospect of wishing for another day to arrive that kept her going. The hope that another day would arrive and just take away the pain her dysfunctional and coldhearted parents caused. And Narcissa would have traded all the glamour and glitter for the chance to be herself, instead of the spoiled, ingrate and pure-blooded heiress everyone expected her to be.
...
They try to take all her dreams away. Some they take, but she can't let them all be taken away.
Underneath her Hogwarts robes, she wears clothes of the most expensive fabrics, ones that she knows would probably be able to support an entire family for a month. She does it only to please her mother.
Her father is quite different, but the same in his own way. Unfortunately for him, he was denied his wish of a male heir, so his greatest desire was to marry his daughters off to be as prosperous as possible. Whereas Andromeda did her best to impress Lord Black with her brains and knowledge, Bellatrix's strategy was to allure every possible suitor with her impertinence and power.
Blessed with curly blonde hair, lovely chocolate brown eyes to get lost in, and a body that made every single male melt in front of her, the instructions her father gave Narcissa was unmistakable. From that time on, she played the role of the 'Beauty': Instead of making friends with girls her age, she was supposed to spend her time with the most successful boys Slytherin House had to offer. Affection and attraction were only important for the opposite gender, and so instead of shivering every time a horny teenager's arm found its way around her waist, she swallowed her disgust and flashed him a bright, deceptive smile. Always the good girl. And although she wasn't really fond of laughing at some bloke's bad joke or enduring terribly wet kisses and hands all over her body, the thing that Narcissa really couldn't stand was pretending to be as futile at Defense Against the Dark Arts as a Muggleborn at Hogwarts. Narcissa was excellent at magic, but she was aware of the fact that men didn't take kindly to it when their trophy wives knew how to fight back should the occasion ever arise.
She was brought up timid and shy, and most of the time was not able to bring up the courage to stand up for herself. So for the time being, she decided to play along; she smiled, laughed, and sent silent prayers towards the heavens that it wouldn't take very much longer for her parents to be pushing up the daisies.
...
Over the years, it feels like she's walking a tightrope. Following and pursuing ideas she pretends to believe in as best as she can, while she tries to walk her own path as discreetly as possible.
Whereas on the outside, Narcissa follows Bellatrix's lead and disgraces Andromeda for 'besmirching the family's name', on the inside, she envies her oldest sister. Not because Andromeda married the man of her dreams, but because she was brave enough not to hide her feelings like Narcissa does.
The feeling of jealousy that accompanied her for so long turns into bitter regret the moment Lucius Malfoy takes her delicate hand into his. Nausea creeps up inside of her, and Narcissa already feels like he's suffocating her. But between Yaxley, Parkinson and Nott, the arrogant blond had been the lesser evil.
So when the wizard performing the ceremony comes to the 'speak now or forever remain silent' part, Narcissa balls her left hand into a fist so tightly that her long nails pierce into her own flesh, so painfully that it prevents her from speaking up—or running away from the altar.
Narcissa swallows hard, fights the nausea that threatens to overwhelm her and puts on a brave and happy smile when Lucius slips the expensive golden wedding ring on her finger.
...
Her mother once told her that the most important thing for an admirable woman in her position was to keep balance—or fall.
When she first hears of the Potters' deaths, she puts on one of her brighter smiles and blinks away the tears that well up in her brown eyes. Even though she never had anything to do with either Lily or James—apart from the occasional eye-roll at school —her heart is aching. From what she knows, the two of them were happy. And all it took to destroy a perfect family was an unforgivable curse.
When the news reaches Malfoy Manor, that the Dark Lord was vanquished by the Potter's son, Narcissa tries her best to look devastated and hides the excitement that sparks inside her. A life without the Dark Lord means that there is still hope that her own son will grow up to have a brighter and happier future to live in.
...
She doesn't complain. She just can't. She keeps her balance. This vague state between high and low, up and down, truth and lie.
She's a good wife to Lucius—obedient even, as some would say. She sticks to her marital duties, supports him in his work at the Ministry, pleases him in the bedroom and bears him the heir her own father was always denied.
She raises Draco the best way she can. She wants to be a good example for him, to give him the opportunity to live the life he wants, but once again, she doesn't have the courage to change the course of a traditional Slytherin upbringing. Lucius always has the upper hand and she doesn't dare challenge his decisions. At least not in plain sight. When he's away at the Ministry, she dismisses the house elves and takes care of Draco herself. She picks him up, cradles him in her arms and sings him a lullaby to help him fall asleep.
When he starts Hogwarts, her brown eyes fill with tears as she waves him goodbye at Platform 9 ¾. When the Chamber of Secrets is opened, they start writing letters to each other. Naturally, carefully hidden from Lucius, for he would never approve of such an open display of emotion. When her cousin escapes from Azkaban, Narcissa decides to tell Draco more about their family. And although she's not the kind of mother she would have liked her son to have, she tries her best to at least protect him. Most of the time, she has kept quiet, worked from the shadows, but once she heard about the Dark Lord's plan to punish Draco for her husband's failure, she decides to take matters into her own hands and confront Severus, make him take the unbreakable vow—everything in her power to protect her son.
...
When the deadly spell illuminates the clearing and flashes towards its target she knows her walk on the tightrope has not yet come to an end and the feeling of defeatedness morphs into a fear that threatens to suffocate her. Narcissa doesn't think about it twice before she feels her worn out muscles move and she stumbles, almost falls down into the clearing where the lifeless body lies. There is no time to keep up her posture, or the lady-like walk her mother forced the sisters to practice day in and day out. She needs to hurry, before anyone else gets to the boy first.
She bends over the young man and moves her head ever-so-slightly so that her hair seemingly casually falls over his face.
"Is Draco alive?" she asks, her hoarse voice barely more than a hushed whisper, "Is he in the castle?"
She watches his head move in slow motion, up and down again, and her heavily beating heart almost stops.
Her whole body shakes and she sucks in her breath before she finally gathers her strength and turns around to face the crowd of the Dark Lords most trusted followers. She desperately wants to freeze time, to be able to think about what to do next. She knows that if she tells the truth, a fight will start. Spells will fly, blood will be shed, and the small chance to see her beloved son again will vanish as quickly as a fistful of glitter thrown into the air.
So she stares right into the Dark Lord's eyes, hiding her fear behind a wall of serene serendipity in her brown eyes and straightens her back so her head is held high and elevated.
"He is dead," is all Narcissa says, and she sends a silent prayer towards the heavens that her hoarse voice doesn't break. With anticipation, she watches the Dark Lord, and the blood rushes through her veins. And she hopes that her last attempt at deception will at least offer her the chance to give her son a proper 'goodbye', certain that—like so many others—she will not make it out of this battle alive. For Narcissa was taught early on that although they hold the power to deceive people with their glamour, once they reach the ground, even glitters turn into dust.