*~mystikalolo~*
Disclaimer: The purpose of a disclaimer is to tell a reader who is the owner of what. However, there are some things that you know, without being told. This should be one of them. You know what J.K. Rowling owns. What she doesn't own, and what WB does not own… I do own.
This story does not follow OotP perfectly. Firstly, although it says that Andromeda, Bellatrix, and Narcissa were all Sirius's cousins, I am changing it to 3rd cousins. And Narcissa Black will not be a true Black. She will be a girl adopted from a pureblooded family that is not known to the Blacks, at the age of 10. And she knows that she was adopted, but tries not to mention it often, as the Blacks don't appreciate that. She also knows who was her true family, but would never mention that to the Blacks.
"Life? It's easy enough. Living? Now, that's a different matter"Chapter One (1)
She was 34, and looked like she was 21. Silver-blonde hair and the iciest blue eyes one had seen. High cheekbones, pale skin, cheeks aglow with the faintest tinge of pink. Cold pink. Even her cheeks looked chilling. Dark black, curling lashes and full cherry lips. A stature of 5' 7" and a figure that was big, small, curvy, and slim in all the right places. A fashion sense to rival that of Hogwarts renowned Lily Evans, and intelligence that also rivalled her.
Lucius Malfoy: husband of 15 years
Draco Malfoy: son for 15 years
124 Gremmotwolle Lane; Malfoy Manor: home for 15 years
Malfoy Manor Staff of Servants (Package including House-elves): Hired help of 15 years
Look breathtaking, act charming, be a Housewife doll: Job of 15 years
Narcissa Lucille Potter Black Malfoy, was a deep woman, who'd witnessed a world of pain, torture, and inhumanity in her life. She bore the names of three of the most respected pureblooded families in the British Wizarding World. However, nobody except four people knew all three. And one of them was Narcissa, herself.
She lived in Malfoy Manor. She had no job position. Lucius did not approve of wives, or for that matter, women in general, working. He believed they should stay at home and take care of the family, the house, and home life in general. In other words, Lucius expected his wife to be what muggles called a Barbie doll. A dull, but pretty woman. Always smiling to the right people. Always getting rid of the wrong ones. Always there to be that gorgeous jewel of a wife, ready to be the picture of perfection for any Social Gala, Social Function, Social Festival, Social Get-together. Notice social to be the key word. Social and Public Narcissa was different than Personal and Private Narcissa.
No one ever saw the private Narcissa. She, herself, did not know what kind of Narcissa that was exactly. At least, she did not remember.
Narcissa rose from her bed. Her own bed. In her own apartments, in the mansion. How, Lucius had ever granted such a thing was beyond her. But the excuse that he had given her was; she'd grown rusty, less passionate, boring, week, and useless. So he went to his many other women. Bitches if you like. Yes, he had at least twenty. He said it, "gives me variety. Sexual activity is quite useless until you have some difference to spice it up. And I am quite an energetic man, my dear. One woman a night is not enough." When he'd told her that then, all she'd murmured was a, "Yes, dear."
But she'd been sickened to the soul by this confession of his. And it was what had led her to plead the case of having her own bed. She wouldn't bother him that way, she'd said. And he may even bring up women to his own apartments instead of going down to theirs. It had been quite an interesting prospect to Lucius, and so he'd accepted.
Of course, she was required to come to his apartments once in a year quarter, to make love to him. It was not asked, but commanded. And she had to obey. She was, after all, just another one of his toys. She just had a bit more power than the other playthings.
Narcissa took a bath. Hair wrapped in a towel, she sat in front of her vanity set. A beautiful masterpiece in Cherry wood. She softly brought down her gold brush through her silver locks. She straightened her hair. Lucius did not like the natural vivaciously curly hair. It looked too warm and soft. She dipped her brush into Sleakeesy potion, and brushed her hair into a low plait. Not one hair out of place, and looking much older than was natural for her. She brought out her red blush and put a thin coat over her cheeks. Blood-red lipstick went over her lips. Lucius liked a lot of red. So much red looked blood chilling. And of course red was one of the two colours of Lord Voldemort, the other being black.
Narcissa straightened her thick, curling lashes, and applied a blonde colour to them. Lucius said that such black waving, deep lashes were not proper for the 34-year-old wife of a most renowned wizard, such as himself.
Narcissa did not need any other make up, because of her flawless beauty, so she moved onto clothing. Taking off her robe, and standing in nothing but a thin lacy white bra, and a thin, lacy cream pantie, she disappeared into her wardrobe room. And room was certainly the right word. She was about to touch one of her robes, when she hastily went back to her bedroom and quickly put her robe on again.
She did not want to be found out in only a bra and pantie, if Lucius suddenly walked in. She shuddered, as she remembered such a thing happening, only a month ago. He'd slipped in somehow when she was standing almost nude in her wardrobe room, among hundreds of clothing articles. And he unbuckled and slipped his hands in—oh, it was disgusting! Why, it would have been rape but for the fact, that she was married to him. The man was not gentle, but forceful and unforgiving. Tantalizingly magnificent to some, but a horrible setback for herself.
Narcissa quickly picked out a robe of sheer black silk. It had a black hippogriff-leather belt, with a ruby buckle on it. Narcissa hated wearing animal skin. She hated any cruelty to animals, and was herself a vegetarian. But she could not tell Lucius that. He'd laugh at her openly in his cruel, dangerous manner.
She sat at her vanity set and did her weekly ritual of painting her nails blood red, and shaping the nail pointedly at top. She put black pearls on her ears, a gold thread of rubies on her neck, and her indoor day shoes, black with a red outline of an M. For Malfoy.
Finally, fully dressed, she walked out the door of her room and out of the door exiting from her personal apartments. She slowly and gracefully walked into the Morning parlour. There sat Mister Lucius Malfoy, himself. He had a cup of dark, steaming, black coffee. He sat in his black robes, reading the Daily Prophet. Narcissa silently seated herself gracefully in a velvet-covered armchair. The servant; it wasn't a house-elf, it was a plain wizard, announced her presence, although she'd already entered.
"Madame Malfoy has entered the room, sir."
Lucius did not look up till then. When he looked up, he motioned for the servant to leave. Then he smiled to Narcissa. A chilling and horrific gesture. "Good morning, dear." The mocking sound. Always that mocking sound. Narcissa looked up, feeling almost nauseous.
"Good morning." Self composure. At least outward. Must not—Must not let him see discomposure.
She gathered herself together, and succeeded. She managed to look just as cold, and chilling, icily dangerous as Lucius. Something requiring the utmost concentration and accomplishment.
"Darling," Sarcasm. An art. Also her strongest defence. "Why are you reading the paper? After all, you do know everything that is going on already. Must you bother yourself by reading such a stupid paper, that has fiction for its facts?"
Horrible creature. Ha. He didn't know what went on. He was only Voldemort's trusty little sidekick. He knew nothing that Voldemort did not want him to know. No one but Voldemort—No, not even that… thing knew. She wouldn't swear about him. Not just yet. He had no worth, to be sworn of. Only Dumbledore knew all that went on. At least, he knew the most.
Lucius gave a cruel smirk. "Of course I do, darling." Oh. Sarcasm. Back to me. Too bad. For him of course. This is a game he cannot win. Talk more, Lucius. It will only be worse off for you
He did talk. "But I must see what these fools are writing, so as to see exactly how far away from the truth, they are."
Narcissa gave him her coldest smile, reserved only for Lucius and when she, herself was asked to speak to Lord Voldemort, which was quite rarely. "Indeed."
Her wand lay on the table. A side table. How odd. She? Forget to take it with her to her rooms last night? Very odd.
Lucius looked to where Narcissa's eyes had wandered. He smirked again. "Yes, how odd, dear Narcissa, that you disremembered to take your wand with you."
Narcissa realized now. This was a Dark Wand. Looking exactly like her wand, it lay there, beckoning respectable, magical people to use it. The instant it was touched, the desire for darkness was almost more than bearable. But once put down, this crave would die as instantly as it had sparked.
Narcissa's own wand was safely tucked in her secret drawer upstairs in her apartments. And Lucius knew it. At least, he knew that this was not her wand. 'But does he know that I know it?'
"Take it dear. It is yours, is it not?" Lucius. Better not let him know. Dangerous.
"Of course dear, but it is too dirty to touch. I shall have to pick it up with this napkin. And I must go back to my rooms and clean it. The filth covering it is most unbearable." And with that, she rose swiftly and walked out.
Upon reaching her rooms, she, with the napkin, broke the wand in half and put it in her collection. Many dark items lay there. All broken, so that an innocent person would not get hurt from it, if picked up unintentionally.
'Why in dear Merlin's name am I in this horrible house? Apparation is the thing for me."
"Pop" and she was gone.