Disclaimer: I don't own any recognizable characters. Or do I... No, no I don't
Author's Note: Muchas gracias to Anti-Sheep Cheese Muffin, who convinced me to write this. It is a prequel to The Grim Tellings of Narcissa Malfoy, and, well, it really doesn't matter which you read first... just make sure you read both (and revew). Also, thenk you to my beta, PadfootandProngs91, you rock, dearie.
One. Two. Three.
Narcissa wasn't sure whether she was counting (four) the number of times (five) she swirled her glass of (six) wine, or the number of unattractive men (seven) in the room. Either way worked.
Eight.
Parties are boring, Naricssa decided, swirling her glass of wine around (nine) before downing it in one swallow.
Ten.
She must have been counting the men, for the number in her head kept rising, after her drink was gone.
Narcissa was standing alone in the corner of the room, quite glad to be left alone. These functions were not simply parties, but perfect matchmaking opportunities for her parents, who were on an ever-persistant quest to get her married off before she hit twenty-one.
"'Cissy!" Narcissa heard her sister, Bellatrix, rushing towards her, clutching a large flute champagne, which was against etiquette, as her parents would say. Champagne later.
"What?" Narcissa slurred, trying to sound drunk. She really wasn't in the mood to meet any men (twenty-one).
"'Cissy, there's a man--" Bellatrix was interrupted with a loud snort of disdain from Narcissa, "—that mother and father want you to meet. Please, try to be nice to him, and remember, they didn't do too terribly for me." Bellatrix smiled towards her husband of three months, Rodolphus Lestrange.
"They like you, Bella." Protested Narcissa, losing her pretense of drunkenness, "they approve of you, because you were willing to get--"
Narcissa's mother cut her tirade short, brushing Bellatrix aside, which was a rarity. Narcissa smirked.
"Yes mother?"
Mrs. Black got straight to the point,
"Narcissa, this is Lucius Malfoy."
"It's a pleasure."
"And Lucius, you've heard of Narcissa, of course."
"Your reputation precedes you."
"And your does you no justice."
Her mother had done it this time. How dare she? A Malfoy?
Never. Never would she.
When the impact of what she had said hit her, Narcissa blanched and quickly excused herself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Does you no justice? What was she implying?
Narcissa grabbed a glass of wine from a passing tray, tossing it off in one large swig. The stupid things she did.