The sack of galleons laid at Narcissa's feet as she sat at the vanity table within a private dressing room at Madam Maklin's. Narcissa gazed into the mirror as she used her magic to polish her hair, running the wand down the lengths of her long tresses as the strands were magically tamed and made pristine once more. Even during this trying time, her appearance was of top priority to her. She was breathing normally now, her throat made better by the many glasses of water given to her by the shoppe keeper. How long would her sister take to respond to her plea for help? Hopefully she wouldn't be stuck waiting for too long.
Taking the clear vial out from her dress pocket, she popped the cork off of it and used her wand to extract the memory of her father's most recent assault against her. The glowing blue fibers of her memory left her head, attached to the tip of the glossy, black wand. She tapped the fibers over the vile, dropping them into it before sealing it shut with the cork.
Now she had proof of her attack — proof that she could actually show other people. Now the only question was, would the minister take her side — or her father's? Her chances were slim. Memory's could be altered once taken from the brain. Her father could claim that she fabricated the whole thing and doctored the memory. Still, it was nice to have, just in case.
Narcissa began thinking about her school. She was done. Unfortunately not graduated, but once a student has gone through all seven years, they were not allowed to attend further. She pitied the fact that transfiguration had been the reason she didn't receive her diploma, she was never good with the subject.
Her father always insisted that graduating was not required for noble pureblooded women to be desirable for marriage. As long as they were beautiful and submissive, that was all that wealthy wizards cared about. Fortunately for Cygnus' depraved desires, Narcissa did grow to be exceptionally beautiful and the most submissive of all his daughters. Running away from home this morning was the most defiant thing she had done up to this point.
A few hours had gone by now, and assuming that her father was still looking for her, it was only a matter of time before he'd be waltzing through the door of the robe shoppe, taking her home and forcefully carting her off to his sleeping chamber to be mercilessly bred until she fell pregnant with his child. The very thought made her vomit up the small amount of food the bartender had given her hours prior into a near by waste bin. Embarrassed, Narcissa vanished the evidence with her wand immediately.
Despite her father not yet succeeding in having his way with her, she still felt dirty, used, and very obviously abused.
Madam Malkin was in the back room, sorting through her inventory and getting ready for the late-morning rush when the sound of feathers flapping in the wind was heard from the shoppe's fireplace. A black owl came swooping down from the brick chimney and flew over to Narcissa, landing on the table she sat at. The bird dropped an envelope on to the table-top. The young witch was so excited to see her sister's owl that she nearly snatched the letter straight from the birds beak.
She ripped open the envelope and smiled as she read the simple message:
………………………………………………………………………..
613 Thornleigh Street, Southampton, England.
………………………………………………………………………..
Narcissa clutched the note to her chest tightly. With her eyes closed, she took in a deep breathe and exhaled with relief that her sister was still willing to look passed their transgressions of the past. A huge weight felt as though it had been lifted from Narcissa's shoulders as she neatly folded the note and lifted the skirt of her dress, tucking the letter into one of her garter belt's suspenders that held up her stockings. Should her father check her pockets if he found her, she didn't want him discovering her sister's note.
Narcissa scooped her wand from the vanity table and slid it into her pocket before lifting the heavy sack of money off the floor. She made it down the small flight of stairs to the front counter where the shoppe owner was just behind the wall.
"Madam Malkin?" She called out.
The older woman rounded the corner carrying a robe in her hands that currently had a needle and thread pinned to it.
"Is everything alright, dear?"
Narcissa nodded. This was the most calm that Malkin had seen the girl all morning.
"Southampton, England. Do you know where that is? Can you apparate me there?"
The shoppe keeper had no time to reply before the sound of the jingling the bell above the front door sent shivers down both their spines. Narcissa refused to turn around until a throat cleared. Madam Malkin's face paled at what resided behind the girl's back. She turned around slowly, fearing she knew exactly what she was about to see.
There, just inside of the doorway, was her father. He stood threateningly at the front of the shop without even having to take an aggressive-looking stance. He seemed carefree, in a pleasant and calm mood. The tall man smiled deviously at his daughter as he dangled a pair of white stilettos in the air in a taunting manner. The glossy white leather caught the light, acting as a shiny lure. Her feet were so sore.
"You forgot your shoes at home, Darling."
Narcissa gulped as chills radiated through her body. Her father strolled toward her at a modest pace, his lavish suit crisp and his appearance perfectly kept. He looked the way he always did. If only others knew the monster that lurked beneath the well-dressed surface. She didn't expect Madam Malkin to do anything, her father could easily crush her with his strength. Cygnus took hold of her wrist and led her to a purple velvet armchair near a standing mirror and sat her down, taking one ankle into his hands at a time and as he slid the shoes onto her feet before fastening the mary-jane straps. A painful wince escaped her as he supported her left ankle, the one that she had landed on while making her escape. She had yet to check on the injured limb, but the deep-blue and black discoloration of a bruise was clearly visible through her white stockings.
"Injured from your fall?" Cygnus drawled out, "You poor thing. Let's get you home and healed up, shall we?"
Narcissa began to shiver at the thought.
It was so disgusting how calm and collected he seemed considering what he had in mind for her. His touch was painful and immoral. The way he caressed her stocking covered flesh made her stomach turn. His hand began to wander up passed her knee and up her thigh. She prayed that he wouldn't go any higher, else he'd discover the hidden letter with Andromeda's address on it.
Once her shoes were on, he tried to stand her up onto her feet. She briefly thought about acting as dead weight, making it as difficult as possible for him to take her away. Sitting in the chair, she refused to move as she started at her father pleadingly, silently begging him to let her loose.
Cygnus squinted his eyes and let out a frustrated growl before yanking her up and onto her feet. Trying to stand in stilettos on an injured ankle was not a pleasant experience. Narcissa let out a tiny whimper as her weight was placed onto her feet. She nearly collapsed onto the floor if her father hadn't caught her with ease.
"Don't worry, 'Cissy. Daddy will take care of you. Now, be a good girl and come along."
Cygnus picked up the sack of money and guided them out of the shoppe. His grip on her hand being so tight that she thought he might shatter every last bone within it. Cygnus shot an evil glare toward Madam Malkin before exiting, letting her know that she ought to keep her mouth shut and let them leave in peace.
Walking down the now heavily populated streets of Diagon Alley, Narcissa stared straight ahead blankly as her brain scrambled to think of what to do.
"That poor pub-worker didn't even stand a chance against me. Couldn't have been more than twenty-five or so, he had so much more life left in him. Oh well, he shouldn't have helped you escape."
Oh my god…did he kill that kind man? It must have happened just moments after she vanished from the pub. She could see his face now — scared and confused, just wanting to help a frighted girl, and he was killed for it.
"I see you made it to your vault before I had the chance to have your account closed," he remarked as the bag of money swung behind his shoulder. "Clever girl. I had a feeling that's where you'd be heading first."
Narcissa thought about yanking her hand free and slipping into the crowd. To hell with the money, she had her destination written on paper. That was the main objective. Cygnus leaned down to smell her, the sweet scent of roses overpowering his nose. Narcissa always smelled of roses. She flinched at the feeling of her father's nose being pressed into her hair, taking in a big inhale of her scent. She just knew he was ginning mischievously above her.
She was confused, why hadn't they apparated home yet. Not that she wanted to, but her father had the ability. Where was he taking her? They passed by so many civilians, so many people that would have been able to help her, but would never know the plight that she faced due to her father being there to shut her up if necessary.
"Are you hungry?" He asked all too pleasantly, "I would imagine you would be after all that running you must have done this morning."
She was starving, of course. All she'd eaten within the last twelve hours were a few slices of bread with butter. But food at a time like this? Her intense feeling of fear would just make her throw it all up anyway.
Narcissa noticed the way his grip was slowly becoming less tight as she continued to walk with him without struggle. Maybe — just maybe, — if she could play along and be convincing with it, he would let his guard down long enough for her to make her escape.
"I—I'm very hungry, actually. Could we stop by that diner that you would always bring us to?"
Her voice was soft and delicate while her eyes looked up at him the way an adorable puppy would ask for treats. Even in her high heels, and being on the taller side naturally, Narcissa's supermodel-esque height was absolutely nothing compared to her father's. He completely dwarfed her with his stature. A woman was supposed to feel safe and protected while being accompanied by a man like this — all Narcissa felt was extreme trepidation. She feared for her life and anyone who decided to be brazen enough to help her. A small part of her wished she could have saved that pub-worker. He didn't deserve to die.
Wanting to make it seem like she was happy to be there with him, Narcissa did her best to clutch onto his strong arm in a way that somewhat resembled affection. Cygnus smiled down at her, pleased to see her submissive nature return.
"Of course we can, Princess."
A few minutes more of silent walking led the two into a fine establishment. The Blacks considered this to be a cute little diner to grab a quick meal, while those who were not part of the wealthy elite would save up for months just to be able to afford a reservation. The pair were able to stroll right up to the host's stand where the employee instantly recognized them, forgoing the line of people that had been waiting for hours and escorting them to the seating area. The host had selected a fine table in the middle of the room when Cygnus spoke up with a request.
"Do you have any booths open, by chance? Perhaps something over there?"
The host looked to where Cygnus was gesturing to. Along the back wall of the restaurant where no windows could let any light shine down, a row of booth-style tables were lined up against the wall.
"Oh, of course sir. Right this way."
To Narcissa's unease, the host led them to the corner booth. Cut in the shape of a half-circle. Cygnus allowed Narcissa to slid in first, taking his place next to her as he pushed her further and further into the inner most part of the booth, shrouded in the shadows and out of the range of visibility of the other customers.
The host held a moderately concerned look as the two seated, staring at Narcissa as if he knew something was wrong. Unfortunately, he said nothing pertaining to it.
Watching the host of the restaurant walk away was like watching a lifeline disappear. The employee had left the poor girl to the wolves. She knew her father at least had enough shame to not risk anyone seeing him canoodling with his own daughter in public. Thank Merlin for small mercies.
Luckily, the waiter was right around the corner. The uniformed man approached the table with a quick-quotes-quill floating beside him.
"Good afternoon, miss Black. You as well, mister Black." The waiter punctuated both of their names with separate nods of acknowledgment. "What will we be having to drink?"
Water, all Narcissa wanted was water. Fortunately for her, her father felt the same way.
"Bring a bottle of Ogden's Firewhisky with a chilled tumbler, and a pitcher of water for her."
The waiter nodded, turning around to fetch their drink orders. Narcissa looked at her father briefly before he spoke.
"It's best that we keep you hydrated on nothing but water from now on. It'll be better for your body during pregnancy."
Good god. To hear those words leave your his mouth when you knew what he was planning for you is truly the stuff of nightmares. She wrinkled her nose as she kept her head down, staring at the dark wood of the table. She felt his hand caress the small of her back, making her tense up.
"I suppose I should be honored that you've chosen me," she made herself say, "I do wonder why you won't be choosing to re-marry?"
She curled her lips into a passable smile, pleading that he would notice and assume she was being compliant.
Cygnus chortled out a laugh, as if her inquiry was preposterous. "Surely two things can exist simultaneously."
The way he said that made her skin crawl. She knew exactly what he meant by that.
"Oh…yes of course."
The waiter brought over the drinks, setting down the tumbler and Firewhisky near Cygnus and the pitcher of chilled water with a glass down by Narcissa. She grabbed the glass and poured herself some water, sipping her beverage with a shaky hand. Before he could even ask the two what they'd like to eat, Cygnus piped up with: "The Lumberjack's platter for me and the strawberry crepes with a side of eggs and sausage for her."
Cygnus dismissively shooed the waiter away with his hand.
"Should I prove to not be able to produce a male heir, you wouldn't…do away with me the way you did to mother…would you?"
Cygnus was enjoying a swig on his alcoholic drink, taking much too long considering the nerves that Narcissa was dealing with.
"Papa?"
Cygnus stilled, setting his tumbler down onto the oak table before clearing his throat.
"I'd prefer if you did not call me that anymore."
She just looked at him blankly. "What…what shall I call you then?"
"By my name, of course," he said dryly, "Other terms of endearment are fine as well. You know — 'darling', 'sweetheart', all of that mushy nonsense couples like to call each other."
She nodded as she turned away from him and picked up her water to sip from it. Her skin was crawling. She had goosebumps all over.
"I suppose 'Daddy' is also allowed, but only in the bedroom." He added with a mischievous smirk.
She nearly spit her water out onto the table.
"…Good to know," she murmured, doing everything she could to hide the her true emotions.
"And to answer your question," he continued, "I would never dream of taking you out of this world the way I may or may not have with to your mother. She was insufferable, and mediocre looking on her best of days, just like your two older sisters. But you, I've known for quite some time that you were different. You were the only one of your sisters not cursed with your mother's sickly-pale skin or the drab hue of her hair and eyes. No — you were indeed different. My beautiful little blonde — you still are."
Interesting that he should say that in this moment. Narcissa sat motionless, quite as pale as the white lace that trimmed her blue dress, her long blonde hair hanging down her back as she stared forward. The color had fled from her complexion during the train ride home as she internally panicked about returning to her father. Under normal circumstances, she'd be radiant and beautifully golden — the very same skin tone passed down to her by her father. Narcissa recalled receiving an abundance of 'compliments' from her father and uncle Orion when she was little. With less than comforting smiles directed at her, the two men would relentlessly comment on how much they loved her tan skin and how beautiful she was as they caressed her face and raked their fingers through her hair.
Even then, even as a young child, she knew what they were doing was wrong, she just didn't have the vocabulary to describe it at the time.
"What if I'm just like mother? What if I only birth daughters?"
Her father shrugged as he looked off into the distance of the restaurant. "Then we'll keep trying until you give me a son. I really don't give a shit how long it takes or how many girls come before. We have the rest of our lives to conceive a male heir, and I'll be virile for many, many decades to come."
Cygnus leaned in close to her. Without realizing it, Narcissa's body instinctively began to shy away from her father before he wrapped his arm around her and pulled back. The view from the table was clear to see everyone and everything around the restaurant, but Narcissa knew that she and her father were cloaked by the shadows. If he was going to do something to her right here in this booth, no one would likely see.
"What shall people say when they find out about us?" She croaked out.
Cygnus chuckled darkly as he poured himself another glass full of whiskey. "What shall they say? The Black bloodline has seen much more…eccentric unions in it's past. What we are — people won't even bat an eye at."
Perhaps he was right. Not a single rumor or whispering went around when her uncle Orion and aunt Walburga wedded each other — and those two were direct cousins…
She bit back her tongue in an effort not to speak against his statement. They were father and daughter, how much more immoral of a union could one get themselves into?
She was startled when her father leaned over and grabbed the pitcher, filling her glass back up with cold water before setting it harshly back down in front of her.
"Drink your water, girl," Cygnus chided with displeasure on his face, "It's good for you."
Narcissa raised the glass to her mouth as the waiter brought over their order. For once in what seemed forever, she forgot about her plight as her pupils dilated at the sight of the food sitting in front of her. She didn't hesitate to grab her silverware and begin stuffing her face with the delicious meal. Hardly taking the time to chew properly before swallowing, she cared more about filling her body with nutrients more so than how it tasted. The only thing that took her attention away from her dish was the chuckling from her father as he salt and peppered the meat on his plate.
"My goodness. You're eating as though you're already with child."
No, you arse! I've spent my morning practically running a marathon, barefoot and laced into a corset all the way through the god-forsaken wilderness!' She thought to herself. It would feel so cathartic to say it out loud, but that would ruin her whole plan.
Taking a break from her food, Narcissa swallowed her pride before she gave a smile and said: "Thank you for bringing me here…Darling. I can't wait to get back to our home and spend some time with you."
To say those words to felt as difficult as keeping your composure with your foot lodged in a bear trap. The amount of force it took to keep a loving face during those two sentences almost made her brain explode.
Cygnus grinned, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I can't wait either, my love. Seeing you out of your dress and under the covers of my bed will be the greatest gift I could ever hope to receive."
Narcissa stared at him blankly. This must be a joke, a prank, a test, something. She was even briefly convinced that she had died sometime ago and been damned to an eternity of torment in the pits of hell. Anything to justify how all of this was actually happening to her.
She gave a flirty chuckle before she watched her father set his silverware down and pat his mouth with a napkin. He began sliding out out the booth.
"Excuse me a moment."
"Where are you going? Narcissa asked innocently as she batted her eyelashes at him. "I don't want to be left here without you."
He smiled back at her sweetly, "Just to the washroom. I'll be back shortly, my darling."
Narcissa's eyes followed his masculine frame as he walked away passed other tables with dining guests and over to the men's restroom. He had a noticeable pep in his step, as if he had reigned victorious over something. She watched and waited for the door of the restroom to close fully.
Now.
Narcissa scrambled for the sack of galleons on the floor and made sure her wand and the letter from her sister were both still with her as she dashed out from the booth. She left behind a handful of coins on the table, her noble upbringing not allowing her to leave without paying.
The customers watched in confusion as the Black's youngest daughter ran passed their tables in a hurried fashion. Her high heels minced along the titled floor with her injury not helping the situation. Narcissa noticed that she was about to speed past the waiter that served them their meal and leaned in to whisper in his ear.
"He'll blame you for my escape. You have to get out of here — now."
Before the waiter could ask any questions, she was gone, out the front door and racing as fast as she could over to the fireplace that was open to the streets of Diagon Alley — the very same one that she appeared in after escaping the pub.
The other civilians looked at her, gasping and murmuring amongst themselves as they watched her practically throw herself into the fireplace. Upon turning around, she saw a horde of people frantically rushing from the restaurant that she had just been in. The large windows at the front of the establishment were smashed by vicious spells flying through the air as even from over a block away, she clearly heard her father's enraged baritone howling from within the building.
"WHERE IS SHE?!"
Narcissa realized she didn't quite recall the exact address Andromeda had written her, but with no time to rustle through the many layers of her dress to search for it, she settled for what she did remember. She reached into the large money pouch and took out the smaller one that contained the floo power. Narcissa took a deep breath as panic ensued on the streets of Diagon Alley as a result of her father's hurricane of destruction. Mother's ran with their children in their arms and people screamed in horror as she briefly saw her father's daunting frame stepping out from inside of the destroyed diner.
"Southampton, England," She frantically uttered as she went to throw the powder onto the ground. The pouch slipped from her hand, breaking open as the rest of the floo powder she was in possession of ignited, engulfing her in the familiar green flames and away from this hellish scene.
Narcissa ended up inside of a building she did not recognize, as to be expected. It was akin to The Leaky Cauldron with its moist looking walls and spindly chairs placed at well-aged tables. It was dim and hardly occupied. Only a couple of haggard women playing a round of wizards chess in the corner of the room.
Likely a great distance away from her father, and in a location he probably wasn't familiar with, she sighed happily before realizing that she was without any more floo powder. Narcissa spotted a woman that looked like she worked in the establishment, dusting off tables as she pulled a cleaning trolly behind her while her apron showed the remnants of the dirty surfaces she came into contact with. Reaching under her dress, she pulled out the note from her garter and read the address once more.
613 Thornleigh street.
Damn, it's was such a simple address. How could she have forgotten? Her eyes found the cleaning woman again. Narcissa grabbed her bag of manor and approached her with haste, catching the woman off guard.
"Excuse me. Would you happen to have any floo powder with you by chance?"
The woman paused from her dusting to snicker at Narcissa's question. "Does this look like a charity shoppe to you? Bring your own damn floo powder."
Narcissa scoffed. How dare this filthy woman speak to a woman born of nobility in such a manner.
"What?! Have you any idea to whom you are speaking to?!"
The bushy haired woman turned to Narcissa once more and scowled at her with her long face and crooked mouth. "I really don't care who you are. But if I had to make a guess, with a body like your's, I'd wager you were one of the courtesans those ritzy, upper-crust lads fancy."
Narcissa's jaw hit the floor, her eyes bulging out of her head. "I beg your pardon?!"
The ragged woman rolled her eyes, saying nothing as she walked off with her rolling trolley behind her.
Once the ill affects of the insult had made its way out of Narcissa's body, she spotted an old door with sunlight filtering through the cracks. She rushed to it, throwing open the door to see a sight that she hadn't yet in her life. A bustling street. It was black with colorful painted lines of it. Strange looking carriages rolled down on both sides in opposite directions — some making bizarre honking noises. Her gaze traveled upward, trailing up the immensely tall buildings that seemed to be made of glass.
Oh god…the muggle world…