Chapter 2
Narcissa
I lied on my bed, reading my History of Magic book aloud as my Quick-Quotes quill wrote an essay on the Salem witch trials for me. I had bought the quill in Knockturn Alley a couple years ago. So I'm lazy. Hey, whatever it takes to get good grades.
Yet, every so often, my mind wandered and I forgot to read. I would stare out my bedroom window up at the stars shining brightly in the night sky, making pictures in my head. The quill would tap loudly on the parchment, and it brought me back to reality. I mentally lectured myself, as I needed to finish this essay before tomorrow. If only that quill could read.
I couldn't help it. If it weren't for a certain blue eyed Slytherin I'd have my essay finished. Well, his eyes were actually a grey-blue, but the deep cerulean was what caught my attention. It made him seem more cheerful. Every once in a while as I sat in History of Magic last year, I could feel the warmth from the sapphire, countered by the coldness of the grey, from behind me. But every time I turned around, he would be deeply involved in one of Binns' infamous lectures. I love staring into his eyes, but sometimes I do, even if I don't mean to. They put me in a trance.
The quill tapped impatiently. "Do you mind?" I snapped. "Don't make me chop you up into little tiny quill pieces!" It immediately stopped and cowered in fear. I sighed and began reading again.
"Narcissa? Who are you yelling at? Is there someone up there?" My mother yelled from downstairs. Her voice rang throughout the house.
"There's nobody up here, Mum," I responded intolerantly.
"Well, finish whatever you're doing and bring your stuff down here! We don't want waste time tomorrow!" I heard her footsteps as she walked away from the stairs.
"Yes Mum!" I snapped my book closed and looked at the essay. Better than I could've written myself. "Maybe I'll reconsider dicing you," I said and smiled. I packed my parchment, book, and quill into my trunk and floated it downstairs, where it landed with a slam.
"NARCISSA MORAVIAN!" my mother screamed as she ran into the room. "I certainly hope you're not breaking anything!"
Then my father ran in. "What's all the ruckus?"
"I just brought my trunk downstairs like Mum asked," I replied innocently.
"See Johanna? You can't yell at her for something you told her to do."
"But I heard a loud crash!"
Dad looked at me. "Well, the trunk IS heavy," I said.
He smiled and patted me on the head. "That's my girl. Now, I have to get back to… er, more important matters. If you'll excuse me, ladies." He strolled down into his den. I never understood why he didn't just say it. Both Mum and I know he has business with Voldemort. But Mum always pretends she doesn't have a clue. She gave him a confusing look, which was meant for him to see, and turned back to me after he left.
Mum glared at me. "You're lucky your father is right downstairs, or you would be so punished!" She said it quietly but fiercely. I scowled at her and stuck my tongue out as she stomped back into the kitchen. I ran upstairs to my room and fell onto my bed.
What kinds of pranks could I play on Potter and his little nerd herd this year? Draconia always has the best ideas; she, of course, being one of my closest friends. And Lucius' sister. Why is it that everything I think about I end up back at Lucius?
He's good looking, that's why. Positively handsome, with his mysterious grey-blue eyes and those silver-blonde locks that fall into his eyes. Nothing like scrawny, sloppy-haired Potter. I can't even believe how popular he is.
Lucius is also the son of a powerful Death Eater. That's why I feel sorry for Lacienega. My good friend's parents want her to marry him, but I know that she's not interested and she knows that I am. I think the problem is that both of us are too shy to say anything.
Why on earth was I sitting there day- er, nightdreaming if you will, when I needed my beauty rest for the train ride tomorrow?
