Chapter One: Before the War
August, 1973
Twilight descended steadily upon London, a bit of light provided by street lamps and the headlights of passing cars. The air was warm, yet refreshingly cool compared to the scalding day. A few bugs flew through the air, crickets and cicadas making annoying chirping sounds. But there was an overall calm about the night; perhaps it came from the drowsy sort of heat, or the late summer reluctance that came with knowing that school would be starting again in only a few weeks.
On the outskirts of central London and down a winding street was a large, Victorian style house. Not quite a mansion's size, but it glared down in an intimidating way at passers-by. Some people said it literally stared at you.
Perhaps it did.
For the family that lived inside was not too fond of their neighbors. The Blacks were seen by that street as anti-social and distant, although they frequently had friends over for dinner. It was odd, for no one ever saw anyone approach the door of the house, but there were often sounds of company inside. And people swore that they didn't use electricity.
But the family was oblivious to the animosity given by their neighbors, most likely because it was reciprocated.
By all except one.
Andromeda Black often took to standing out on the balcony that faced the street – it led off from the library that no one used and she had almost claimed the small veranda for herself. She liked to stand out there in the evening and watch the occasional car drive by, or stare through windows and watch people switch on lights or watch television. She could stand out there for hours at a time, just thinking – of what, no one quite knew.
Her sister Narcissa joined her this evening we have our eyes on, already in her nightclothes, hair tied back to keep it out of her face. Even though she'd just turned sixteen, Narcissa had always had a natural grace in her movements. She had long since passed the clumsy phase, and was developing into a beauty.
Andromeda nodded to her sister in greeting as the blonde stepped out onto the balcony, leaving the French doors that led to it open. Narcissa leaned forward on the high railing, her bare feet uncomfortable on the cement floor. But she didn't say anything, only looked forward onto the street.
"Why do you come out here so often?" she asked finally; Narcissa often frequented the porch in the backyard when she was looking to go outside, not finding anything particularly appealing about this terrace.
Andromeda shrugged lightly, holding her dark hair in place as the wind danced through. "It's nice," she said simply. "We really do live on a beautiful street."
They did. The winding road was small, and though the street's charm was obstructed by a pavement road, there were flowers and plants overflowing on either side of it, enough to make up for the modern Muggle horror the sat in the middle. And the houses? Most were large, of a classic architecture, many built in the mid-1800's when building in the ancient style became popular again. Large trees offered shade to the houses, and moonlight trickled through the leaves, casting odd patterns of bluish light and shadow on the ground.
"Hmm," Narcissa murmured in agreement, looking around her. She supposed it was beautiful, but she'd taken advantage of it, having lived there all her life. She took a bored moment to examine her nails, looking up when Andromeda started speaking.
"I'll be sad to leave," she said almost wistfully, regretfully, staring out at the house across the road.
"Then stay a while longer. You don't need to leave home so soon, do you?"
Andromeda looked thoughtful for a moment, her eyes looking old and wise beyond her eighteen years. She was not looking at Narcissa – rather past her, as though she were translucent. Blinking and coming back to earth, she shook her head silently and looked down at the road.
Narcissa followed her gaze. A car was cautiously making its way down the road, headlights and the noise of the engine disturbing the silence of the street. Andromeda watched the car intently until it drove out of sight; Narcissa however was soon bored with it, and looked away in disgust. Andromeda had a bit of a fascination with Muggle devices – her sister, however, disliked them; she didn't try or want to understand them.
"Amazing, isn't it?" Andromeda breathed, as though she was still reeling in enthrallment from that horrid Muggle… thing.
"I don't think so," Narcissa sniffed distastefully. Her comment was greeted by a raised eyebrow.
"You don't, or Mum and Dad don't?"
Narcissa narrowed her eyes. She could tell by Andromeda's tone that this could start an argument, which Narcissa was dreading. She hated fighting with her sister – Andromeda tended to get particularly impassioned, and fighting with strong emotions was hard. Not to mention that Narcissa loved her sister – she would eagerly pick a fight with Bellatrix but she didn't like Andromeda to be angry with her.
"I didn't say anything about Mum and Dad, did I?" she questioned coldly.
"No, but you sure as hell became a nice little duplicate, didn't you?"
Narcissa blinked. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Andromeda narrowed her eyes at Narcissa, opening her mouth to say something. Then another car made its way onto the street, and both Black sisters turned their heads to watch it. "It means that you should think for yourself," Andromeda hissed, looking up from the street. "Don't let them decide what you believe."
"I think I'm mature enough to make my own choices as to my beliefs, thanks."
"You don't do such a good job of showing it."
And with that, Andromeda walked out of the balcony, slamming the French doors behind her. Narcissa watched through the glass as her sister grabbed a quill and a few sheaves of parchments from the desk in the library, then leave that room as well.
Narcissa turned away, looking back to the road.
The car they had just seen was slowing turning into a driveway. Narcissa watched as the garage door opened, allowing entrance for the white vehicle. The garage door closed, and Narcissa was left staring at the driveway.
They can't do anything that we can't do, Narcissa thought angrily, feeling almost betrayed by her sister's views. The entire Black family knew that Andromeda was dangerously interested in Muggles – she'd been that way since her fourth year at Hogwarts. Although the second eldest Black sister was sorted into Slytherin, she had friends in every house. Apparently she became acquainted with someone who had changed her views – changed them enough to make dinner a regularly unpleasant experience during holidays, with a screaming Bellatrix, a scowling Andromeda, and their parents pale-faced and quiet. Narcissa usually remained silent during these debates, lashing out at Andromeda later, in privacy. Yet… Narcissa adored Andromeda, despite her odd tastes, and was often privy to some of her thoughts regarding the non-magical population. Narcissa didn't understand it. They had magic, it was beautiful, it wasn't just something accomplished by waving a wand and muttering a few incantations, magic was a feeling. It was that tingling that started at the tips of your fingertips when you were feeling inspired, it crept up through your veins until it reached your heart, then it surged, it exploded inside of you and you could just feel it. It was the most wonderful thing Narcissa knew. People who had that had to be privileged, they had to be better than Muggles who only had cars and televisions and processed dinners. She didn't understand why anyone would want to be without that… and by associating with Muggles, Narcissa believed that one would give up their magic. It wouldn't be the same, if you had to share it with someone else. Someone less worthy.
A cool breeze rippled through the air, and Narcissa shivered. After standing in the warmth, the coolness was a bit of a shock. She turned around and opened the doors, stepping inside of the dark library, illuminated only because the door was open, allowing light from the hall to trickle in. Narcissa walked through it, staring around her at the ominous books – many about the Dark Arts – and walked out into the hallway. She passed by Andromeda's room on the way to her own and paused in front of the door for a moment. She heard quick, almost frantic scribbling and briefly considered making amends with her sister. It was a minor argument, but things would be awkward in the morning, she knew it. But she justified herself, thinking indignantly that she didn't do anything wrong… it was Andromeda who had made the scathing, accusatory remarks! No… Andromeda would have to apologize to her.
Narcissa walked into the next room – her room – and found that her candle was already lit. She sat down on her bed, noticing that there was a note wedged underneath the candlestick. Narcissa cautiously picked it up, unfolding it.
Think about it, the note read, and an eloquently signed A was underneath the brief sentence. Narcissa frowned, and brought the tiny piece of paper to the flame of the candle, letting it burn. The flame licked at the small paper, finally catching to the corner. It swiftly made its way down the paper, burning red then turning to a charcoal black. Once the fire was dangerously close to her hands, Narcissa blew it out, dropping the charred paper to the floor and snuffing out the candle. She slept uneasily.
The next morning, Narcissa awoke to the sounds of agitated yelling from across the hall. She groaned and rubbed her eyes, sitting up. Her initial waking thought was that it was too early; her second was that if her mother didn't lower her voice she, Narcissa, would end up with a blaring migraine the likes of which London had never seen. It didn't help that ruthless, blinding sunlight poured in through the windows either. She stood up out of her bed, running a hand through her messy hair, and saw a new note on her nightstand – this one larger, folded over several times.
She unfolded it and sat back down – there was quite a bit of text there. She read the note quickly, her face becoming more and more horrified as the words went on, the grogginess of early morning fading and being replaced by panic and dismay.
Andromeda Black was gone.
Andromeda Tonks had taken her place.
Narcissa had a brother-in-law now. And he was a Mudblood.
The frenzied yelling between Bellatrix and their parents suddenly made sense, and it seemed to disappear into the background as Narcissa became enveloped in thought. That's what Andromeda had meant, by saying she was going to miss home. She had run away. She had left; left the family, left Narcissa. Abandoned her. For a Muggle.
Narcissa went from feeling shocked, to being hurt and horrified, then her pride began to smart and she felt betrayed and angry. By the time they singed Andromeda's name off of the tapestry, Narcissa was fuming with hatred.
November, 1975
Dinner was a silent, solemn affair; a restless feeling of paranoia was draped over the dining hall. There was a clinking of knives and forks against Talitha Black's good china, and nervous glances were thrown about the table, each person seated was daring someone else to speak.
"Maybe she just went for a walk," were nervously muttered words. Narcissa watched the expressions of her parents, looking for a reaction.
Her father, a stately, formal, and often brooding man by the name of Fornax, looked up from his plate, where his eyes had been boring holes into his potatoes. "She didn't go for a walk," he replied icily, standing up and dropping his napkin onto the table. "I'll be in the library," he announced, running his thumb and forefinger over his dark, thin moustache before walked through the empty doorframe and then out of sight.
Talitha sighed wearily. "Do you think she's coming back?" she asked her daughter, eyes wide and apprehensive. Narcissa looked to the seat to her right, where Bellatrix should be sitting, and stared down into her lap silently.
Bellatrix had gone missing that morning at around noon, and now, at seven at night, she had not been seen all day. Normally this would not be a big deal – Bellatrix was known for sporadic disappearances, but the Blacks were worried that their daughter wouldn't come back in time. In time for the wedding. Her wedding. Which was tomorrow.
"How could she leave? How? Why? Didn't she want this to happen?" Talitha stood up, pacing in aggravation. Then she stopped short. "You don't think she went and got an elopement, do you?" The name Andromeda hung in the air – it was the first time Talitha had so much as alluded to her since she left. And it was a possible conclusion after all; Bellatrix's marriage to Rodolphus Lestrange was, like her parents', an arranged one, and Bellatrix was surprisingly compliant with the arrangement. He wasn't particularly good looking or elegant, but he was rich and prestigious. No one was quite sure how she felt about him.
"Bellatrix isn't that reckless," Narcissa finally said, still hardly daring to look up from her hands, which were folded in her lap.
Talitha swallowed and sat back down. "I can't lose two daughters," she said in a whisper. "I can't do it, I…" Then she fell silent, looking back down at her plate and forcing a few more bites of food into her mouth. Narcissa was relieved. She was not used to heart-to-hearts with her mother – or with anyone, for that matter – and didn't like this sudden expression of emotion. However, Narcissa too, felt rather sick at the thought of Bellatrix being gone for good. She felt as though someone was using her solar plexus as a punching bag; that almost painful feeling of dread had overcome her. The house had been in complete turmoil for weeks after Andromeda left… would Bellatrix do that to them too? Would she leave Narcissa alone? Narcissa suddenly felt nauseous – she couldn't be around food for a second longer. "I'm going up to my room," she said to her mother, unsure if she would be excused. Talitha waved a hand dismissively and Narcissa left the table.
Bellatrix came home an hour later.
Narcissa was sitting at her desk, sketching, the dim light of dusk as well as a candle granting her sight. Her attention was diverted from her picture when she heard a sound in the next room – a popping sort of noise. She lifted her head up, sitting completely still for a few moments, trying to hear if the sound repeated itself. It did not. She was about to resume drawing, when her door flew open; a half-scream of shock escaped her lips and her heart felt as though it stopped.
Her shock was quelled and before her, Narcissa beheld the image of her dark haired older sister. Her face was practically glowing, she was wearing dark, unbecoming robes, and she chuckled a bit at Narcissa's fright.
"It wasn't funny!" she snapped. "And where the hell were you?"
Bellatrix stepped forward out of the shadows, candlelight shining upon her, casting unflattering and eerie shadows. She opened her mouth to speak, but Narcissa stood up.
"How could you leave? I don't understand! You were gone all day and all I heard was 'Merlin I don't know where she is!'" Narcissa imitated her mother's whiny voice. She took a deep breath and was about to continue, but was interrupted by her older sister.
"I'm sorry you had one imperfect day," Bellatrix said sarcastically. "Excuse me for not being here for your every beck and call." Narcissa looked furious, but Bellatrix kept her quiet when she said, "I was with Rodolphus all day."
Narcissa's anger subdued, but she was still extremely irritated. She was torn between her curiosity to know the events of her sister's day and her need to let her parents know that the to-be-bride was home. She settled for the former.
"What did you do?" she asked, sitting back down. Bellatrix remained standing.
"We went…" she paused. "You can't tell anyone."
Narcissa felt like she was twelve years old and being told who fancied who. She smirked, but responded simply, "I won't."
"If you do I'll kill you," Bellatrix threatened, and her face was so serious that for a second, Narcissa believed her.
"Fine."
Bellatrix moved her arm closer to the candle, yellow light luminescent on her dark robes. She slowly pulled up the sleeve, revealing to Narcissa a black tattoo of a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth. Narcissa blinked in surprise and Bellatrix quickly muttered a Concealing Charm and took a seat on the end of Narcissa's bed.
"But that's…" Narcissa began, surprised at actually seeing the mark she'd often seen illustrations of in newspapers. Not to mention on her sister's arm! She knew what that meant – it was bad news.
Bellatrix nodded, and inhaled deeply. "It's… exhilarating. You and Mum and Dad and Aunt Bronwen, you all sit around and bitch about pureness of blood and… Merlin, it's amazing to be around people who are willing to do something about it."
"You're going to get arrested! At least the rest of us aren't that stupid."
"Stupid? How is it stupid? You know a war is coming… any day now it will start. I've chosen my side… and I am willing to fight – die – for it."
Narcissa couldn't suppress a smile. That was so… Bellatrix. She had an obsessive personality, and had always been passionate about things – she viewed hardly anything with apathy. Narcissa's smile faded. This was different than everything else! This wasn't her latest boyfriend or the song she heard last week! This could get her sent to Azkaban… it could get her killed.
"You're mad," she said, leaving it at that. Her concerns would be kept to her mind and hers alone. Narcissa knew that Bellatrix would only be mocking if she knew that her sister was honestly worried. And she was… she didn't want to lose another sister. Not Bellatrix, as much as Narcissa despised her at times.
"Mad," repeated Bellatrix, rolling her eyes. "Right. At least I'm doing something other than sitting in front of my mirror primping all day."
Narcissa opened her mouth then closed it again. What could she say in response to that? "Well…"
Bellatrix looked at her challengingly, smirking in triumph.
"Well at least I don't look like a bum off the street!"
Bellatrix laughed out loud.
For Narcissa's accusation was rather far out. Although Bellatrix didn't possess the delicate, porcelain beauty that Narcissa did, she was an attractive woman herself. Thick dark hair, dark eyes, and pouty lips drew quite a bit of attention to her. The way she held herself seemed to be popular as well – overly confident almost to the point of megalomania, and yet not quite flaunting; she had more of a tough nature. It did honestly baffle Narcissa, how her older sister did it, as well as frustrated her. Narcissa was prettier! She was gorgeous! But somehow Bellatrix commanded the attention of a crowd. It drove Narcissa insane – she thrived on being the centre of attention, and it was something that her sister often stole from her.
"Oh, sod off," Narcissa mumbled grudgingly, blowing out her candle, casting the room in almost complete darkness. She made her way over to her bed and threw a pillow over at Bellatrix, who then, still snickering to herself, left. Narcissa slipped under the covers and fell asleep, staring through her window at the crescent moon, the image of the Dark Mark still before her eyes.
*
Narcissa held a glass of champagne in her hand, mingling pleasantly with the wedding guests, receiving congratulations on the part of her sister. "Why hello, how are you enjoying yourself? Those robes are truly becoming on you – she does look beautiful, doesn't she? Would you like a refill of – oh it's no trouble at all." The same routine, over and over again. At least the evening had reached the fun part – the party.
Finally free from socially constricting guests, Narcissa made her way over to Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and two friends of his. They were apparently engaged in some sort of humorous conversation, which Narcissa craved, the dryness of hosting grating on her nerves. Not to mention, Roldophus' friends were handsome to the point of illegality.
Downing the remains of her champagne and ridding herself of the glass, Narcissa approached Bellatrix, who was dressed, as is tradition, in white dress robes. The robes were cut almost like a Muggle dress, only simpler, and not quite a Muggle design – Bellatrix never would have stood for that. The neckline was shaped as a V, low enough to be revealing, but not promiscuous. The sleeves were merely two thin straps, and the bottom half of the robes were, as the rest, silk. Yet this part seemed to cascade down her form in an almost watery look, as though the fabric was liquid. Her hair was in an up do, and curly, and as far as Narcissa could see, her Dark Mark was still under the Concealment Charm. Looking at her, one could go so far as to think she was an innocent bride. The thought was laughable to all who knew her.
"Narcissa," gushed Bellatrix upon seeing her sister's approach. The bride had been in an unusually cheery mood all day – Narcissa thought resentfully that it was because of all the attention she was getting. She lifted a glass of Centaur Champagne off a nearby table and handed it to Narcissa, who took the glass but did not take a sip. There were still a couple of hours to go, and while Narcissa fully planned on getting incoherently drunk, there was still plenty of time for that. She wanted to remember at least some of the party.
"Narcissa," repeated her sister, "You know Rodolphus obviously… and that's his friend Evan Rosier," a dark haired man who looked about Bellatrix's age bowed his head to her, "and Lucius Malfoy." Malfoy did not follow Rosier's action of bowing his head – the blond man merely regarded Narcissa with stormy grey eyes, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.
"It's nice to meet you," Narcissa said, her eyes expressing her amusement in the differences between the two men. One was dark, the other light. One intent on mannerisms, the other on making an impression. A glance over at Bellatrix reaffirmed her suspicions that these two men were Death Eaters as well… that certainly seemed to be the trend nowadays.
"You don't need to lie," said Bellatrix teasingly. "No need to be the socialite now."
Narcissa smiled and took a sip of the champagne, then set it down on the table to prevent herself from drinking anymore. The conversation had come to a lull, and the group of five stood in silence for a few moments. Bellatrix fiddled with her ornate wedding ring, wearing a slightly bemused expression, as though she was surprised that it was there. Rodolphus eventually cleared his throat and turned his attention on his friends. "What did you think of the meeting last night?" Lucius looked as though he could have killed him.
"A Ministry meeting," he covered, looking pointedly at Narcissa, who nodded knowingly, struggling to keep her face impassive.
"It was rather dull," sniffed Lucius, now at ease that he felt his secret hadn't been given away. "I had been hoping we would actually do something."
Evan shrugged. "I enjoyed it."
"Ever the optimist, Rosier," responded the slightly younger man.
"Cynics have no fun."
Lucius muttered something that sounded like 'childish'. Narcissa watched the banter between the two men with amusement.
A few people wandered over to congratulate the newlyweds, and somehow ended up drawing them away from the group. Narcissa turned to Lucius and Evan, raising an eyebrow expectantly. "Well," she said, looking from one to the other, "are you both going to leave me to be a wallflower for the entire night?"
Evan didn't need a second invitation. He literally swept Narcissa onto the dance floor as a more upbeat tone began playing – a new song by a group called The Acromantulas.
They danced two more dances after that, both to upbeat, fast songs. While most pure-blooded, elitist weddings featured a string quartet and ballroom dances, Bellatrix insisted on this, and Narcissa had to admit that she was enjoying herself; although whether that was the fault of the alcohol or the party was undetermined.
The third dance was a slower song, and Evan pulled Narcissa much closer to him for it. He had certainly been touchy these last couple of minutes – there were worse things, of course, but she wasn't one for public displays of affection… no matter how intoxicated she was and how much it was socially expected. Flirting only went so far, and Evan was pushing the boundaries of that line.
Bellatrix and Rodolphus entered the floor for this dance, and all other couples kept to the sides, giving the couple the spotlight. It was obvious that they weren't in love, but they weren't doing a bad job of pretending.
Evan moved himself closer to Narcissa, drawing his eyes away from the newlyweds. Whispering into her ear, he said, "You're beautiful."
Most women would have blushed, or thanked him, or returned the compliment. But Narcissa? Oh, no. She graciously pointed out that, "You said that already."
"But you are… everything about you…" He was close enough so that she could feel the rise and fall of his chest against hers, his breath was tangible on her ear, his eyelashes brushed her face as he blinked. Looking past him, she spotted Lucius across the room talking with a girl Narcissa didn't recognize. He looked up and met her eyes, holding her gaze for a few moments. Then he laughed – she couldn't hear his laugh, but she could see it – and looked back to his companion.
Everything came back into focus as Evan asked cheekily, "So, are you seeing anyone?"
Smoothly, she replied, "If I was, do you think I'd allow your hands to wander as much as they have been?"
He laughed heartily and spun her, although it didn't quite fit the tempo of the music. They were both rather drunk, having had drinks in between each song. Narcissa giggled as she noticed all the eyes on her, and said flirtatiously, "I believe you're trying to compromise my reputation, Mr. Rosier!"
Her night ended in a very compromising situation, with several empty wine bottles, and a wrinkled bridesmaid dress.
*
Little more than three weeks later, Narcissa found herself lying on Evan's bed, in his respectable-yet-somewhat-pathetic flat. It was virtually undecorated, and while the size was reasonable, it was smaller than Narcissa would have liked. However, Evan lived alone, and was happy with his living arrangements, and so Narcissa didn't complain. Much.
"Mmm Evan," she murmured into her pillow, not bothering to take the energy to sit up.
"Yeah?" he asked. Evan was sitting up, leaning against the backboard of his bed, hands toying with Narcissa's hair. If she'd have known that he was shirtless, she might have made more of an effort to rouse herself.
"I want breakfast."
"Want to go to a café?"
She made a 'hmph' sort of noise into the pillow, raising her head. In a somewhat dazed state, she held the blanket up against her body, keeping it in place with one hand. The other hand ran through her hair, and she scrunched up her noise; it was knotty.
"What about breakfast in bed?"
"Neither you, Nellie or I can cook. Eating here is out of the question." Nellie… Evan's good for nothing, only house elf that [I]didn't even cook[/I]. Narcissa was appalled every time she thought about it.
She sighed discontentedly; she was really in the mood for pancakes too. "Fine. But I want Earl Grey tea and two croissants."
About an hour later, the two were sitting in a booth in a small café in Diagon Alley. The tea kettle waddled over to Narcissa's cup and filled it, not spilling a drop on the saucer. Steam rose from the amber liquid, grayish and foggy, leaving moisture in the air. Narcissa cautiously picked up the cup and brought it to her lips, blowing on the surface before taking a sip. For a moment, her face was contorted in pain and she speedily placed the cup back on the saucer, wrapping her burnt fingertips in her napkin.
"Hot?" asked Evan, who had watched this whole thing.
"Scalding."
She reached for a blueberry muffin and placed it on her plate, breaking off a piece of the top and chewing it thoughtfully. She tasted the tea again, and sipped it quietly, as it turned out to now be safe to drink. It was too early for this… she should be sitting in bed right now, not in the middle of a café that handed out beverages that practically bubbled they were so hot. She told herself that she should report it to the Department of Health.
"So…" began Evan, reaching for a scone from the plate of pastries that sat on the table, "I spoke to Bellatrix yesterday."
"Congratulations," she said dryly, breaking off another piece of her muffin. "So did I."
He rolled his eyes; it was obvious he was trying to go somewhere with that and it was obvious that Narcissa was just being difficult. "She, ah, she said that Lucius Malfoy expressed some interest in you."
"Did he?" she asked disinterestedly. "That was nice of him. He's not the only one."
Evan was uncomfortable, and she knew it. "Well you're going to be seeing a lot of him, he's Rodolphus' best friend and all and…"
"Isn't Rodolphus almost thirty?"
"He's twenty four."
"Right. How old is Lucius?"
"Twenty one in a month or so."
Narcissa gave an apathetic half shrug and took another sip of tea.
Evan shifted in his seat, fiddled with his napkin for a moment and cleared his throat. Narcissa tried to pretend she didn't notice his nervousness, but in fact, it was making her somewhat agitated herself. Before she could reprimand him, however, Evan spoke.
"Which, uh, brings me to my point… are we… are we seeing each other… exclusively?"
Narcissa couldn't help but laugh. Even if her guilty conscience told her that she should take pity on an embarrassed man (which it didn't) she wouldn't have been able to. "Are you jealous?" she finally asked, her voice spiced with mirth.
"Jealous?" he asked, forcing a nonplussed tone in his voice. "Of course not." He was staring intently at the tablecloth.
"Aww. You're jealous. That's so sweet." She grinned; it was obvious she was trying her hardest not to laugh again. Reaching out and patting his hand, she said teasingly, "Don't worry, he's not my type. Too blond for me. I prefer the dark and dangerous type of guy." She winked and picked up her teacup – however she had to put it back down almost immediately to allow for more laughter. Evan was torn between being comforted and being humiliated.
Narcissa's amusement quelled and she looked up at him quizzically. "You weren't… you weren't actually jealous were you?"
"What? Oh, no, of course not. I was just, you know, wondering if we were… you know, exclusive."
Narcissa shrugged. "I guess we are. It's not like I sleep around anyway…" She coughed. "Much."
"Much," he repeated, regaining some of his suaveness and staring at her with a raised eyebrow. "Remind me then… how did we start dating?"
She broke off a piece of muffin and threw it at him, looking mischievous and… young. Narcissa had always been older than her years; four years ago it was like she was going on twenty five instead of fifteen. But now, a flicker of a child passed through her, just a flash, like lightning almost – or a softer rendition of it; like a beam of sunlight on a cloudy day, soon to be chased away by the dominant gray sky. Narcissa's youthful expression did just that. She looked at Evan for a moment with the lingering traces of deviousness, a small smile curled on her lips, and then she lifted her teacup to them and took one last sip… and that Narcissa, the Narcissa that so rarely emerged, had disappeared.
Evan suddenly remembered how young she was. Though she was only a few years younger than him, the leap from eighteen to twenty two seemed like such an enormous one, astronomical. She still had so much growing up to do… and Evan realized that she was going to do that growing up much too fast. For a war was on the horizon; a tiny speck of course, invisible except to those who wished to see it. And soon, the speck would get bigger, and eventually no one would be able to see anything but the speck, it would take over their lives and clutter their thoughts. Narcissa might have been experienced in the ways of men and society, but she did still have her underlying innocence… and the war would steal it away and throw it onto a bonfire before Narcissa could even claim a souvenir of it for safekeeping.