A/N: I'm just working on the last two chapters now, so it's almost finished :) These last few chapters will be a bit more action-packed, because I feel like Narcissa can be a total BAMF when she wants to be, and that part of her wasn't explored much in canon. Thanks for reading!
Narcissa had slept in too late, and she was dabbing perfume on her neck with one hand while rummaging around in her drawer for her stockings with the other. Her hands groped frantically around the drawer when she touched something flat and smooth and she knew without looking what it was.
She picked up the photograph with the very tips of her fingers and held it close to her face. Nymphadora, just a few days old, wriggling out of her blankets with her bright pink hair. She'd be nearly seven now, but in Narcissa's mind she was frozen in time, forever four months old and rolling around on the floor, just as she'd been the last time she saw her.
There was a knock at the door. "Better hurry, Cissy. You're going to be late."
Narcissa laid down the photograph and pulled on her stockings, nearly tripping over herself in her rush to get them on. With a quick glance at herself in the mirror, she left the room and went downstairs, where her father was waiting beside the fireplace. He gave her a slice of toast and as Narcissa ate he pulled the Floo powder off the mantel and stepped into the fireplace.
"You're coming into the Ministry today?" said Narcissa through a mouthful of toast.
"Yes, I have some business with the Minister," he said. He sprinked some powder over himself. "Ministry of Magic!"
Narcissa finished her toast and wiped her buttery hands on a handkerchief, then stepped into the fireplace after him. "Ministry of Magic!"
Narcissa stepped out of the fireplace into the high-ceilinged atrium and glanced at the clock. She'd make it in time, but only if the lift didn't have to make too many stops. But before she even stepped onto the lift she scanned a copy of the Daily Prophet, as she did every day, to see if anyone had gone missing or been killed. It didn't look that way. She double checked the date on top, to be sure it wasn't yesterday's paper. December 20, 1978. She sighed with relief and stepped onto a lift.
"Morning, Miss Black," said a young man in plum robes who got on with her.
"Morning, Mr. Fudge," said Narcissa.
She pressed the button for level 9 and tried not to think too much. No matter how many times she'd ridden this lift, it always made her think of the Muggle lift and the hotel and Marlene. Sometimes she almost laughed, thinking about how panicked she'd been, and she had no idea why. She wondered if Marlene remembered. If she ever thought of her. If perhaps some invisible thread still ran between them that vibrated with her thoughts and Marlene somehow felt it.
"Miss Black?"
Narcissa started and looked at Fudge.
"I believe this is your stop?"
Narcissa looked through the open doors at the long corridor that led to the Department of Mysteries. "Yes. Right. Thank you."
She stepped out and made her way towards entrance hall where Rookwood was waiting for her.
Her parent's distaste at a Black daughter working for pay had been lessened somewhat when she told them she qualified for a job at the Ministry, and still more when Augustus Rookwood agreed to take her on in the Department of Mysteries, a respected position made all the more prestigious by the fact that no one really knew what she got up to there.
"Miss Black," he said, greeting her in the old-fashioned way with a kiss on each cheek. He glanced down at his watch. "You are one minute late."
Narcissa had never once been late, and she looked over at him, mortified. "I'm so sorry, it won't happen again."
Rookwood's eyes were laughing. "Don't think of it, my dear. Now if you'll follow me, I have something that might interest you."
Robes billowing behind him, he led her to the Time Room, where there was a bell jar with a delicate bird's egg inside.
"Now, watch it closely," he murmured.
Narcissa watched as the egg hatched and a tiny baby bird emerged, its feathers slowly growing as it found its wings and flew around the bell jar. After it had circled the jar a few times, its wings shrank and it became featherless before curling back up into its egg. She looked up at Rookwood. "It's Time?"
"You catch on quickly," he said, smiling. "Yes, it's Time. The Ministry would like us to improve its Time-Turners-right now they can only go back about five minutes into the past before things start going haywire. But there is a great deal we need to understand first."
Narcissa's eyes flicked towards the Time-Turners on the wall, wishing she could take one down, go back to that night in New York, relive it over and over again. Tell Marlene she loved her.
But what would be the point, really? She'd just have to leave her again. There was no way to go back and give herself a different family, a different name.
"So," said Rookwood, "for today we'll be observing the bell jar and doing a few experiments."
Narcissa nodded and pulled out a parchment and quill.
Narcissa liked the work well enough. Her mind was so busy solving problems, making observations, that she didn't have much time to think about much else. The department was dark and cool and so quiet and still she could hear the echo of footsteps, a distant cough, a trickle of water from somewhere. But she felt trapped being stuck indoors all day with no living things to touch, no fresh earth to smell. There weren't even any windows in the Department of Mysteries. Her fingers ached for damp soil and smooth leaves and thorny vines and the smell of living things. But she was a Black, and working with plants all day was out of the question.
Besides, she might run into Marlene.
"Well," said Rookwood after what felt like a few hours. "What do you say to a bit of lunch? My treat."
Narcissa had known him nearly seven years now, ever since the fall after she'd left Hogwarts. He'd been courteous and attentive to her from the start, a mentor and something of a friend, or as close to one as she had besides Aster. He'd never given her any reason to think his feelings went any further than that, but she saw the way he looked at her sometimes, and she wondered.
"I suppose that would be all right," she said, a note of caution in her voice.
Perhaps Rookwood sensed it, because he stood straighter, and his voice became more formal, businesslike. "Excellent," he said. "There's a place in Diagon Alley I'm rather fond of."
They stepped out into the alley beside the Ministry to Disapparate, and when they'd stopped spinning they were outside a small cafe in Diagon Alley. A cold rain was falling and they ducked inside.
"Can I ask you something?" said Narcissa when they were waiting for their food.
"Certainly, m'dear," said Rookwood, taking a sip of his gillywater.
"Do you ever think about what you would do, if you could go back in time?"
Augustus set down his glass and glanced down at the table, as thought studying it. "I don't know," he said. Narcissa thought she heard something in his voice, some sort of regret or sadness, but she didn't press him, and Rookwood looked up at her. "Do you?"
"Sometimes," said Narcissa, trying to sound offhand, as though the things she would change were minor things, like studying harder for a test or going to a party. Maybe she hadn't done it as well as she thought, because Rookwood was looking at her closely.
"I suppose it's normal to have regrets, isn't it?"
Narcissa traced a fold in the linen tablecloth with her finger and thought of the sheet she'd clutched to herself. "Yes, I suppose."
Their food came then, and as they ate Narcissa tried to keep the conversation on lighter things, the news and the goings-on at the Ministry. She didn't want to go home when the day was done, and she was relieved to see Aster running towards her in the Atrium. She looked flushed and her eyes were shining.
"Come to the Leaky Cauldron with me? I have the most amazing news."
Narcissa followed her into the alley and Disapparated, absolutely at a loss as to what could make her so happy. She couldn't be engaged, the man she was seeing, Thomas, was Muggle-born and her parents didn't know a thing about him.
They sat down at a small table and Aster ordered them each a glass of wine. Narcissa could tell by the way Aster leaned forward and fidgeted that whatever it was was about to burst out of her.
"So what is this news?" said Narcissa.
Aster let out a small squeal. "I'm going to America."
Narcissa nearly spit out her wine. "What?"
"My application was accepted. They're giving me a teaching post at Ilvermony. Assistant Charms professor. And guess what," she said, leaning forwards. "Thomas is coming with me. We're going to be married."
Narcissa had never heard anything less welcome in her life. "I-that' wonderful," she sputtered, hoping she sounded sincere.
Aster must've understood how she felt, because her smile faltered and she reached across the table for Narcissa's hand. "I'm going to miss you so much," she said, giving her hand a squeeze. "Will you be all right?"
The answer, of course, was no, but Narcissa didn't say this. "Of course," she said, forcing herself to smile. "Congratulations, this is wonderful news."
"I know you really don't think that," Aster said. Narcissa opened her mouth but Aster cut her off. "I feel awful leaving you like this, but..." Aster didn't finish her sentence, but Narcissa understood what she'd meant to say. She'd been keeping her relationship with Thomas a secret for years, sneaking off to see him after work, finding remote spots for them to spend a few hours in, fending off her parent's questions about when she was going to marry. She couldn't live like that anymore.
Aster squeezed her hand. "I owe you so much, you know. If it hadn't been for you I might've ended up with Tarquin and..." Aster couldn't finish, and Narcissa understood. The thought of it was almost too horrible to voice aloud.
"Tell you what," said Aster. "Why don't you sleep over Friday night, like we did when we were younger? We'll crack open a bottle of wine and sit in our pyjamas and talk all night?"
Narcissa gave her the smallest smile. "Sounds perfect," she said.
Narcissa had a terrible hangover when she walked into the house on Saturday afternoon, and winced when the door closed behind her.
"I'm glad you're here finally," said her mother. "Your auntie Walburga and uncle Orion have invited us over for dinner."
Fucking perfect. She already had a splitting headache and now she'd have to listen to her aunt rant about Mudbloods for two hours. She wondered if she could make herself ill.
"I'm looking forward to it," she said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. She went upstairs to change into new robes and put her hair up. It was lank and clinging to her face.
When she'd taken her robes off she reached down and touched the necklace around her neck. She'd never taken it off, not once, since that night Marlene had placed it around her neck. She was too afraid she would lose it. She closed her eyes and tried to feel Marlene's fingertips brushing against her skin as she slipped it on, the way she'd brushed her lips against her cheek. She lay back down on her bed, running her hands along her body, trying not to feel the connection with her own mind, to imagine they were Marlene's, slipping them down her stomach, between her legs...
"Cissy?" Narcissa sat up and stared at the door. Her father was standing just outside. "Are you almost ready dear? We're about to leave."
"I'll be there in a minute," said Narcissa. Breathing hard, she got up out of bed and throwing on a set of forest green robes. She pinned her hair up quickly, not worrying too much if she'd got it right, then went outside with her mother and father and spun into the air.
When they stopped they were standing in the square outside Grimmauld Place. It looked the same as it always had, garbage and broken bottles strewn over the pavement. There was new graffiti on the skip; it now said "Eat the rich." Narcissa imagined her aunt's head on a platter.
Walburga greeted them all while Orion stood and watched with no expression his face whatsoever, expect vague boredom. They went to the drawing room for the customary pre-dinner drinks and Narcissa saw that Bella was already there. Narcissa avoided her eye as she sat down. Bella had been distant with her ever since she'd run off with Marlene. When Kreacher announced that it was time for dinner she sat down next to Regulus, who'd just gotten home for the Christmas holidays.
"How's school going?" she said to him as the plates were filled with food.
Regulus gave her a jaunty smile. He was taller now, though still a bit small for a nearly grown man, and his voice was deeper. "Brutal," he said. "N.E.W.T year is worse even than O.W.L year."
Narcissa smiled back. "You're not wrong," she said. "I think all I did was revise for three months straight." She was quiet, thinking of all those evenings spent in the library with Marlene.
"So," said Walburga, cutting up a piece of pheasant. "How are things at the Ministry?"
Narcissa could hear the disapproval in her voice but did her best to ignore it. "Very well, thank you," she said, sitting up straighter. "Mr. Rookwood and I are doing some cutting-edge research."
That seemed to have shut her up. Rookwood was a pureblood, and well respected in their world. Walburga turned to her father and started talking to him and Narcissa tuned them all out for awhile. When she'd finished eating Walburga took a long drink of brandy and looked round at them all. "What do you all say to a séance after dinner?"
Narcissa had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. Every once in awhile Walburga would get drunk and try to contact all the dead Black relatives. Once she spent an hour talking to someone she thought was Phineas Nigellus only to find out it was just Sirius throwing his voice. She'd locked him in his room for two days.
"Sounds lovely," said her father, but Narcissa knew he was just trying to humour her.
Narcissa caught Regulus's eye and they went to the sitting room, where Kreacher brought them some extra pudding.
"Thanks Kreacher," Regulus grinned.
"Master is most welcome!" said the elf, eyes watery. He bowed and left the room.
"He adores you," said Narcissa, smiling.
"Yeah, well," said Regulus, but his ears were red and Narcissa knew he was chuffed.
They ate their rhubarb crumble in silence awhile, Narcissa scraping every last bit of it from the bowl. She wasn't as sure of what to say to him now, as she had when they'd been children. He hadn't been any different towards her, after she'd run off with Marlene, but she supposed they didn't really have that much in common. Then she remembered how much he loved Quidditch.
"How is Slytherin doing this year?" she asked him.
Regulus swallowed a mouthful of crumble. "We beat Gryffindor a few weeks ago," he said, wiping some crumbs from his mouth. "I think our chances are good this year, with Potter gone."
"And with you as Seeker," she said, smiling. Regulus smiled back at her, and she felt closer to him than she had in a long time. She reached out and touched his arm.
Regulus gasped and jerked his hand back as though something had hurt him, and as he rubbed his forearm a rush of memories came back to her, Lucius rubbing his arm and Tarquin pulling back the sleeve of his robes and the truth smashed into her like she'd flown into a solid wall.
He'd joined up. The little boy with the toy broom and the too-big ears was fighting alongside the Dark Lord.
She stared at him as though she'd never seen him before. "Oh my God,"
Regulus stopped rubbing his arm and put it at his side. "What?" he said, trying to sound casual, but Narcissa could her something in his voice, a warning maybe.
"How could you do it?"
"You act like I've done something horrible," said Regulus, but he wasn't looking at her.
Narcissa didn't know what to say. She knew if she pushed too hard, if she objected too much, she'd only drive him further away.
"Merlin, Cissy, you're acting like someone died."
Narcissa whipped around in her chair and saw Bella standing in the doorway. She walked over to Regulus and patted his shoulder. "You should be proud of him. He's one of the youngest to join up."
Narcissa stood up and drew her aside, lowering her voice. "We need to talk," she murmured, with a glance at Regulus, who, she knew, would be mortified if he knew what they were saying about him.
Bella followed her to the bedroom they always slept in when they stayed overnight. Narcissa paced the floor, arms crossed. "How could you encourage this? Do you have any idea what kinds of things they've done?"
Bella looked at her like she'd lost her mind. "Of course. That's the entire point, isn't it?"
Narcissa stopped pacing and stared at her. "What, you mean the entire point of this war is to torture and kill everyone who doesn't agree?"
Bella stood up taller. Her hair was sticking out and her eyes were so full of fire she looked as though she'd start shooting off sparks at any moment. "The point of this war is to purify our race, get rid of the filth that's been holding us back all these years. Or do you not approve?"
Narcissa didn't know what to say to this. She'd been keeping her real feelings hidden for years, ever since she'd gotten back from New York. She'd sat through her mother's rants and her aunts tirades with her mouth shut and her eyes blank, sometimes rushing off to the bathroom to throw up after. She'd done such a good job of it no one knew what she really thought. Just like she'd been trained to do her whole life.
"I-that's not really the issue, here. It's dangerous out there Bella. He's too young for this."
Bella smiled. "I've been keeping an eye on him."
The back of Narcissa's neck prickled. She didn't want to know. But she had to. "What do you mean?"
Bella smirked and pulled back the left sleeve of her robes. Narcissa screamed.
Narcissa was five, and her and her sisters were playing by the sea. Bella went out into the water and a wave swept over her and she went under.
"Bella's drowned!" Narcissa screamed. She screamed and screamed.
Their father went out to get her and pulled her in. He tapped his wand to her chest and she started coughing. "She's fine, Cissy, it's alright," he'd said. But Narcissa couldn't stop screaming.
Bellatrix clapped a hand to her mouth. "For fuck's sake, Cissy, shut up, you're making a scene."
Narcissa tried to steady her breathing, but Bella's hand only made her more panicky. She jerked herself away, breathing hard.
"Do mother and father know?"
"Not yet," said Bella. "But mother is sensible, she won't mind."
She was probably right about that. But it would crush their father.
Bella couldn't have been standing more than a foot or two away, but some invisible chasm had opened between them. Narcissa screwed up her face as tight as she could so nothing would come out.
Bella gave her a sharp, scrutinizing look. "Seriously Narcissa, get your shit together. You're a Black."
Narcissa didn't know what to say. She watched as Bella left the room, and only once she was gone did she sink down on the bed and bury her face in her pillow, wishing with everything she had it was Marlene lying beside her.