(A/N: Sorry it took so long; I was on vacation, and reading OotP!
Well, after carefully trying to figure out how to carry this on, I have come to a verdict. Since you're all so kind to me by reviewing, and reading the story, and formulating your own theories as to what may happen with my writing, that I have decided to take a bit of a detour around Order of the Phoenix. So I will have this story going, though I may go back and alter a few minor events to make them correspond with OotP.
I'll have my own different smaller climax, which I will write. The OotP version will still happen and the death will be the same, I'm just going to write *around* it. So my version will still carry on, but the death will still be the same.
Oh, and I suppose that I should warn you, if you have not read Order of the Phoenix, there will be a few spoilers here and there, you know. So read OotP then read this if you wanna be surprised with the spoilers!)
Chapter Ten
The holidays dawned their usual cheer amongst the wizarding world, though as always, it conveniently remembered to forget Malfoy Manor. The cold stone interior and marble floors could not have been any less welcoming to me, the morning I rolled out of my bed, feeling the far off warmth of the fire across the room. I was still wearing my beautiful green velvet robes from the night before, and my sleek hair was a tousled mess. But the way I looked was nothing compared to the way I felt.
A throbbing pain had settled itself in my temples, pounding at my brain, and making my vision blurred so that I could see no father than three feet in front of me. My limbs ached like nothing fathomable, as I groped for something to hold so I could keep what little balance I was left with. My stomach gave the occasional lurch, as if I were on a boat and kept getting thrown forward.
It took several moments until I was able to regain control over my own aching body. I was just in time, making myself presentable, for mother to burst into the room, with her face mixed with terror and a mad delight. For what I could remember as the first time in a long time, she smiled at me. Her smile seemed so hollow and empty, yet it illuminated her thin face.
"The Death Eaters are plotting something," she said. For a minute, I thought I saw what looked like fright etched across her thin features. "Something to destroy Potter and free those who rest in Azkaban." She lowered her voice then to a whisper, and said, "To bring the Dark Lord into the public."
For a short moment, as my brain struggled to grasp what she had said, I knew this was the first time in years that mother had looked truly delighted. Her face was glowing with pride and valor that used to glow when she watched me do impressive things in front of other people as a child. But I did not know why breaking open Azkaban would bring to my mother such glowing fortitude. How did this directly concern her? Mother soon answered this question, though only vaguely.
"Bella." She said breathlessly. "Your Aunt Bellatrix, Dragon."
"Who?" I asked in reply, having not the slightest clue what my mother meant.
"My sister, Bellatrix!" Mother said, rising to her feet. "The only other that was not blasted from the Black family tapestry." If she had thought this statement would clarify things, she was gravely mistaken; I was thrown even farther into the deep pool of misunderstanding. Mother looked at me compassionately, her old sadness chiseling a look back into her face.
"My maiden name is Black." She said slowly, suddenly pondering why she had never told me her family history. My mouth formed a confused line. "Yes, as in Sirius Black. He's my second cousin. We were a family of honor, and were of the purest blood in Britain. My branch of the large family consisted of my mother, father, my three sisters, and me. My sister- " She broke of deciding not to say the name of one of her siblings. "One married a Muggle man called Tonks, and produced a daughter whom they called Nymphadora. She's several years older than you now, and is an Auror."
Mother didn't seem too pleased about her sister's path. "Needless to say, she was blasted off the tapestry that hangs in the old Black Mansion, somewhere in London." She paused, and a look of reverie crossed her pale face. "Your aunt, Nabila," mother said, letting me call to mind the images of my cousins Fayre and Rafe, whom I hated with a passion. Fayre had given me glasses, Harry Potter style, for my birthday. "Is my half sister, meaning she has a different father than I do."
Father never mentioned Aunt Nabila and her children; he hated them. Mother, however, did not seem to mind. I was expecting to hear why mother did not dislike her half sister for marrying someone who was not pureblooded or from Slytherin house, but she carried on with what she was saying.
"Then there was Bellatrix." To aid my mind in production of what Bellatrix might look like, I took a good look at my mother, and imagined her to have long blonde hair, a gaunt pointed face, and a small nose that curved downward at the tip. I imagined her to have more lively blue eyes than mother's.
I was mistaken. Mother produced from nowhere a portrait of two girls that appeared to be around the ages of sixteen and seventeen, sitting next to each other solemnly, sneering down at something that was not visible within the limited frame. The girl on the right was obviously my mother. Her long blonde hair swept down her back, and her eyebrows arched upward, laughing.
The pretty girl next to her, presumably Bellatrix, had long, dark hair that fell in sheets casting shadows on her thin face as she looked down at her lap, then looked up again, dark eyes flashing menacingly. Her eyebrows were narrowed, and she whispered something to my mother in the portrait, sniggering madly. Her thin, pursed lips split into a malevolent grin as she looked up at me. She was tall and very slender, and though she was very pretty, her eyes held a rather dull look about them.
"Bellatrix followed the path I took, marrying a respectable pureblood man from a wealthy family." Mother looked longingly at the picture. "Lestrange, he was called." She said. "They joined the ranks of Voldemort, and to this day have been loyal to his dark hand."
Mother cast a suddenly nervous look around the room and said, "Unlike your father, she did not try to weasel her way out of Azkaban. She was loyal. She held her own ground, and did not do what was best for her, but what the Dark Lord would have wanted."
I remained silent. This was the first time I had heard mother speak openly about what she thought of father. Was this why father was cruel to her, because she thought her sister was more loyal than she was? But this I never got to ponder any longer, as I had been hit, for the billionth time in the past week, with a horrible force, making it hard to breathe.
Mother had thrown herself at me, and had grabbed me so tightly that I was gasping for breath. The mother that was so familiar had returned. She was soaking my shoulder with her tears, as she muttered inaudible words under her breath, occasionally gasping and looking up at me.
"My little Dragon," she said, tearing away from me like we were each part Velcro. "Don't ever join the Death Eaters," she whispered violently. "It's dangerous."
I even allowed her to kiss me on the cheek, still sloshing tears down her cheeks, as she left the room sobbing madly. I fell purposely backwards onto my soft bed, looking at the green and silver canopy above me. Why was everything in my life so complicated? One minute, mother was completely sane, and the next she becomes a raving lunatic.
Was I the next to lose my sanity?
~*~
At last the elongated Christmas holiday came to a halt. It was a good thing, as well, because I did not think I could have stood for another day in the dreary cold dungeon rooms of Malfoy Manor, where I had taken to making potions in all my spare time, practicing for my O.W.L. in Potions.
Keeping to myself was my new way of coping with my emotions, which I was not aware lurked deep inside my soul. Before, I had accepted the fact that I was cruel, and that it ran in the family. It was my destiny to follow in my father's footsteps, and to ensure that my future son or daughter would do the same. There would be no Malfoy veering to the path of righteousness. Not to mention, from what mother had said, righteousness was not a prized trait among Blacks, either.
So with a new family history to fill my brain, I began the second part of the school term. To add to the level of stress, O.W.L homework was being impounded in our brains, and Circe had decided it was at last time to put some intensity into our lessons; we were learning magic. And it was difficult magic, at that.
Just as soon as she announced we would be learning magic, there was a rustling about the classroom as everyone fished in their bags for their wands. As soon as I had drawn my wand, looking at it fondly, I heard a crack of thunder from outside and caught lightning flashing from the corner of my eye. Circe was looking rather bemused at our actions, which were only natural.
"You may kindly put those away," she said softly, smiling.
As it always was, I spoke up. "But Professor, you need a wand to perform high-quality and controlled magic."
"Mr. Malfoy," she said, looking directly at me. "Do you expect to always have your wand when you are in a situation that could bring mortal peril?" The class was silent. "You need to be prepared for what may happen when you are wandless-and seemingly helpless.
"This is some of the most difficult magic that exists, as Mr. Malfoy mentioned, it is hard to control. You need strong mental capacity to manage control over yourself. Control over your emotions are key in this magic, and you also need to reflect back upon what you were taught before Christmas."
It was the most difficult lesson ever. Without our wand at hand, we were asked to produce a Shielding Charm around ourselves. Needless to say, no one succeeded in this great feat. But the look on Circe's face as we all walked out of the classroom told us that she had clearly expected someone to.
And I had a sneaking suspicion that one person was me.
~*~
The other, um, memorable moment of the day plagued us all in Potions. Our Switching Solutions boiled hot in the cauldrons, though not all were burning correctly, as was typical with the dunderheads in our class. Only Granger's potion and mine was radiating the orange glow that it was supposed to be radiating.
Though some would often argue that I only had good grades in Potions because Snape liked me, I assure you that I do have a knack for potion making the way Potter has a knack for attracting the Dark Lord. There was something that came incredibly easy to me about mixing potions up that could do anything under the sun. All you needed to be able to do was follow instructions.
I poured a small amount of my potion into the vial for Snape, grinning to myself. I would get at "Outstanding" in my O.W.L. for sure. A sense of almost pity filled my chest as I looked at Potter, who was standing next to me with a bottle of red Switching Solution, instead of orange. How could someone be so inept at Potions?
I didn't have any other chance to wonder this, as I had crashed into something rather soft, and fell on my backside, Switching Solution flying in the air, getting closer and closer to the floor. I scrambled to my knees and reached out a hand to grab it. At that precise moment, another hand did exactly the same thing, reaching for a red bottle. Our hands collided, and there was a loud smash.
I coughed, as my glasses hit the floor and shattered.
Wait a minute! GLASSES?!
~*~
(A/N: Ah, that was pretty short. Sorry about that; I kept you waiting all that time and typed such a short chapter. I left another cliffie, too! Don't you just love me? Well, anyway, now you know a little more about Narcissa!
If you'd like to read my other story, "Until Death do us Part," about Lily and James, and some memories (I'll have to revise it, I think, because I started it before OotP), you can do that too!
Well, I am thinking about writing another story, this one about Bellatrix when she was in school. I don't know why, but I think her character is very intriguing. Even though she did the "one thing" (I don't wanna spoil it for those who haven't read it yet) near the end of the book.
Oh, and also, I've started the plot line for the sequel to "Dragon," which I will write when I'm finished with this story. It'll be called "Bad Faith" so look for it as soon as "Dragon" has ended!
Okay, now that I'm finished with that bit of shameless advertising, I'll let you go back to your lives, after you hit the review button. My friends! Ta ta!
--Cayr)
Well, after carefully trying to figure out how to carry this on, I have come to a verdict. Since you're all so kind to me by reviewing, and reading the story, and formulating your own theories as to what may happen with my writing, that I have decided to take a bit of a detour around Order of the Phoenix. So I will have this story going, though I may go back and alter a few minor events to make them correspond with OotP.
I'll have my own different smaller climax, which I will write. The OotP version will still happen and the death will be the same, I'm just going to write *around* it. So my version will still carry on, but the death will still be the same.
Oh, and I suppose that I should warn you, if you have not read Order of the Phoenix, there will be a few spoilers here and there, you know. So read OotP then read this if you wanna be surprised with the spoilers!)
Chapter Ten
The holidays dawned their usual cheer amongst the wizarding world, though as always, it conveniently remembered to forget Malfoy Manor. The cold stone interior and marble floors could not have been any less welcoming to me, the morning I rolled out of my bed, feeling the far off warmth of the fire across the room. I was still wearing my beautiful green velvet robes from the night before, and my sleek hair was a tousled mess. But the way I looked was nothing compared to the way I felt.
A throbbing pain had settled itself in my temples, pounding at my brain, and making my vision blurred so that I could see no father than three feet in front of me. My limbs ached like nothing fathomable, as I groped for something to hold so I could keep what little balance I was left with. My stomach gave the occasional lurch, as if I were on a boat and kept getting thrown forward.
It took several moments until I was able to regain control over my own aching body. I was just in time, making myself presentable, for mother to burst into the room, with her face mixed with terror and a mad delight. For what I could remember as the first time in a long time, she smiled at me. Her smile seemed so hollow and empty, yet it illuminated her thin face.
"The Death Eaters are plotting something," she said. For a minute, I thought I saw what looked like fright etched across her thin features. "Something to destroy Potter and free those who rest in Azkaban." She lowered her voice then to a whisper, and said, "To bring the Dark Lord into the public."
For a short moment, as my brain struggled to grasp what she had said, I knew this was the first time in years that mother had looked truly delighted. Her face was glowing with pride and valor that used to glow when she watched me do impressive things in front of other people as a child. But I did not know why breaking open Azkaban would bring to my mother such glowing fortitude. How did this directly concern her? Mother soon answered this question, though only vaguely.
"Bella." She said breathlessly. "Your Aunt Bellatrix, Dragon."
"Who?" I asked in reply, having not the slightest clue what my mother meant.
"My sister, Bellatrix!" Mother said, rising to her feet. "The only other that was not blasted from the Black family tapestry." If she had thought this statement would clarify things, she was gravely mistaken; I was thrown even farther into the deep pool of misunderstanding. Mother looked at me compassionately, her old sadness chiseling a look back into her face.
"My maiden name is Black." She said slowly, suddenly pondering why she had never told me her family history. My mouth formed a confused line. "Yes, as in Sirius Black. He's my second cousin. We were a family of honor, and were of the purest blood in Britain. My branch of the large family consisted of my mother, father, my three sisters, and me. My sister- " She broke of deciding not to say the name of one of her siblings. "One married a Muggle man called Tonks, and produced a daughter whom they called Nymphadora. She's several years older than you now, and is an Auror."
Mother didn't seem too pleased about her sister's path. "Needless to say, she was blasted off the tapestry that hangs in the old Black Mansion, somewhere in London." She paused, and a look of reverie crossed her pale face. "Your aunt, Nabila," mother said, letting me call to mind the images of my cousins Fayre and Rafe, whom I hated with a passion. Fayre had given me glasses, Harry Potter style, for my birthday. "Is my half sister, meaning she has a different father than I do."
Father never mentioned Aunt Nabila and her children; he hated them. Mother, however, did not seem to mind. I was expecting to hear why mother did not dislike her half sister for marrying someone who was not pureblooded or from Slytherin house, but she carried on with what she was saying.
"Then there was Bellatrix." To aid my mind in production of what Bellatrix might look like, I took a good look at my mother, and imagined her to have long blonde hair, a gaunt pointed face, and a small nose that curved downward at the tip. I imagined her to have more lively blue eyes than mother's.
I was mistaken. Mother produced from nowhere a portrait of two girls that appeared to be around the ages of sixteen and seventeen, sitting next to each other solemnly, sneering down at something that was not visible within the limited frame. The girl on the right was obviously my mother. Her long blonde hair swept down her back, and her eyebrows arched upward, laughing.
The pretty girl next to her, presumably Bellatrix, had long, dark hair that fell in sheets casting shadows on her thin face as she looked down at her lap, then looked up again, dark eyes flashing menacingly. Her eyebrows were narrowed, and she whispered something to my mother in the portrait, sniggering madly. Her thin, pursed lips split into a malevolent grin as she looked up at me. She was tall and very slender, and though she was very pretty, her eyes held a rather dull look about them.
"Bellatrix followed the path I took, marrying a respectable pureblood man from a wealthy family." Mother looked longingly at the picture. "Lestrange, he was called." She said. "They joined the ranks of Voldemort, and to this day have been loyal to his dark hand."
Mother cast a suddenly nervous look around the room and said, "Unlike your father, she did not try to weasel her way out of Azkaban. She was loyal. She held her own ground, and did not do what was best for her, but what the Dark Lord would have wanted."
I remained silent. This was the first time I had heard mother speak openly about what she thought of father. Was this why father was cruel to her, because she thought her sister was more loyal than she was? But this I never got to ponder any longer, as I had been hit, for the billionth time in the past week, with a horrible force, making it hard to breathe.
Mother had thrown herself at me, and had grabbed me so tightly that I was gasping for breath. The mother that was so familiar had returned. She was soaking my shoulder with her tears, as she muttered inaudible words under her breath, occasionally gasping and looking up at me.
"My little Dragon," she said, tearing away from me like we were each part Velcro. "Don't ever join the Death Eaters," she whispered violently. "It's dangerous."
I even allowed her to kiss me on the cheek, still sloshing tears down her cheeks, as she left the room sobbing madly. I fell purposely backwards onto my soft bed, looking at the green and silver canopy above me. Why was everything in my life so complicated? One minute, mother was completely sane, and the next she becomes a raving lunatic.
Was I the next to lose my sanity?
~*~
At last the elongated Christmas holiday came to a halt. It was a good thing, as well, because I did not think I could have stood for another day in the dreary cold dungeon rooms of Malfoy Manor, where I had taken to making potions in all my spare time, practicing for my O.W.L. in Potions.
Keeping to myself was my new way of coping with my emotions, which I was not aware lurked deep inside my soul. Before, I had accepted the fact that I was cruel, and that it ran in the family. It was my destiny to follow in my father's footsteps, and to ensure that my future son or daughter would do the same. There would be no Malfoy veering to the path of righteousness. Not to mention, from what mother had said, righteousness was not a prized trait among Blacks, either.
So with a new family history to fill my brain, I began the second part of the school term. To add to the level of stress, O.W.L homework was being impounded in our brains, and Circe had decided it was at last time to put some intensity into our lessons; we were learning magic. And it was difficult magic, at that.
Just as soon as she announced we would be learning magic, there was a rustling about the classroom as everyone fished in their bags for their wands. As soon as I had drawn my wand, looking at it fondly, I heard a crack of thunder from outside and caught lightning flashing from the corner of my eye. Circe was looking rather bemused at our actions, which were only natural.
"You may kindly put those away," she said softly, smiling.
As it always was, I spoke up. "But Professor, you need a wand to perform high-quality and controlled magic."
"Mr. Malfoy," she said, looking directly at me. "Do you expect to always have your wand when you are in a situation that could bring mortal peril?" The class was silent. "You need to be prepared for what may happen when you are wandless-and seemingly helpless.
"This is some of the most difficult magic that exists, as Mr. Malfoy mentioned, it is hard to control. You need strong mental capacity to manage control over yourself. Control over your emotions are key in this magic, and you also need to reflect back upon what you were taught before Christmas."
It was the most difficult lesson ever. Without our wand at hand, we were asked to produce a Shielding Charm around ourselves. Needless to say, no one succeeded in this great feat. But the look on Circe's face as we all walked out of the classroom told us that she had clearly expected someone to.
And I had a sneaking suspicion that one person was me.
~*~
The other, um, memorable moment of the day plagued us all in Potions. Our Switching Solutions boiled hot in the cauldrons, though not all were burning correctly, as was typical with the dunderheads in our class. Only Granger's potion and mine was radiating the orange glow that it was supposed to be radiating.
Though some would often argue that I only had good grades in Potions because Snape liked me, I assure you that I do have a knack for potion making the way Potter has a knack for attracting the Dark Lord. There was something that came incredibly easy to me about mixing potions up that could do anything under the sun. All you needed to be able to do was follow instructions.
I poured a small amount of my potion into the vial for Snape, grinning to myself. I would get at "Outstanding" in my O.W.L. for sure. A sense of almost pity filled my chest as I looked at Potter, who was standing next to me with a bottle of red Switching Solution, instead of orange. How could someone be so inept at Potions?
I didn't have any other chance to wonder this, as I had crashed into something rather soft, and fell on my backside, Switching Solution flying in the air, getting closer and closer to the floor. I scrambled to my knees and reached out a hand to grab it. At that precise moment, another hand did exactly the same thing, reaching for a red bottle. Our hands collided, and there was a loud smash.
I coughed, as my glasses hit the floor and shattered.
Wait a minute! GLASSES?!
~*~
(A/N: Ah, that was pretty short. Sorry about that; I kept you waiting all that time and typed such a short chapter. I left another cliffie, too! Don't you just love me? Well, anyway, now you know a little more about Narcissa!
If you'd like to read my other story, "Until Death do us Part," about Lily and James, and some memories (I'll have to revise it, I think, because I started it before OotP), you can do that too!
Well, I am thinking about writing another story, this one about Bellatrix when she was in school. I don't know why, but I think her character is very intriguing. Even though she did the "one thing" (I don't wanna spoil it for those who haven't read it yet) near the end of the book.
Oh, and also, I've started the plot line for the sequel to "Dragon," which I will write when I'm finished with this story. It'll be called "Bad Faith" so look for it as soon as "Dragon" has ended!
Okay, now that I'm finished with that bit of shameless advertising, I'll let you go back to your lives, after you hit the review button. My friends! Ta ta!
--Cayr)