Disclaimer: Still not mine.
If you have not seen A Beautiful Mind, shame on you. Shame. Anyway, that's not the point of this update. How about I answer a few of your questions? That's always fun. Here we go: 1. I'm writing this story in the present tense because that's just how it came out when I started writing it. Really. I just started off in the present tense and it suddenly felt right – it gives the story a slightly ongoing feel. And now that I've written so much of it in the present, I can't even imagine it in the past tense. It just wouldn't seem the same. 2. Well, you'll have to keep reading to see if Sirius is in love with Narcissa, won't you? If you're a close reader, or if you're just creepily talented at reading human emotions, you'll be able to figure it out. 3. WHERE IS IAIN? 4. Kevikins, neither my AIM nor my email has been working properly as of late. Sorry. You know how it goes with technology sometimes.
Enjoy.
" 'How big is the universe?'
'Infinite.'
'How do you know?'
'I know because all the data indicates it's infinite.'
'But it hasn't been proven yet.'
''No.'
'You haven't seen it.'
'No.'
'How do you know for sure?'
'I don't, I just believe it.'
'It's the same with love, I guess.'" – A Beautiful Mind
Chapter Three
The Games
Nearly a year passes. Sirius and Narcissa are ten, and it's late October. It's snowing outside, though the conversation indoors isn't a degree warmer than the frost. The two young cousins are playing chess while their mothers, along with Aunt Elladora, are all deeply immersed in one of their usual discussions.
"It's the principal of the thing," Mrs. Black is saying harshly. "Our family has always been prominent, successful, and wealthy, and I won't have our good name spoiled by one young hotshot Auror who thinks he can put us in our place. We're practically royalty compared to him, for Merlin's sake! A blind man could see that!"
"Of course," says Narcissa's mother absently, holding her knitting up to the window to get a better view of it. "It's natural that you should be offended, my dear sister, but really – don't waste your sentiments on one such man as … as … what was his name, again?"
"Alastor something," Mrs. Black says stiffly. She looks as though she has a foul stench under her nostrils. "New to the Ministry. Freshly trained Auror – and pure scum, if you ask me."
"Which no one did," Sirius mumbles.
Narcissa tries very hard not to smirk.
"It's all in the breeding, I say," Aunt Elladora decides. "You see, with us pure-bloods, there isn't room to err. Our blood is purely magical, through and through. However, once you've got the muggleborns concerned, things get confusing. They don't know their wands from their toes, I say. Their hearts aren't fully into what they learn at Hogwarts, or Durmstrang, or wherever they end up. Fools, I say, without exception."
"They get strange ideas in their heads," Mrs. Black agrees. "They claim to be equal to us, when they can't even trace their own lineage back to last year. I mean, the sheer nonsense of the idea! Think of our family, for instance – we can trace it back generations and generations, and it's been fully pure-blood ever since the first Black set foot on this earth. And then you've got a muggleborn with a witch for a mother and a stupid muggle man for a father, and then that muggleborn claims to be equal to us. The muggle and wizarding worlds mustn't collide in such a way. It would be funny if it weren't such a horrifying thought."
"It's a good thing we've got our children off to a decent start," says Narcissa's mother, glancing at her daughter and Sirius as she speaks. "I received letters from both Bellatrix and Andromeda yesterday. They're doing well in school … they simply love their housemates."
"But of course," Aunt Elladora snorts. "Slytherin house is certainly the most harmonious of the houses. It always maintains one belief, and one belief only, and that is the belief in the pure-blood, truly magical race."
Narcissa glances at her mother and smiles. "I cannot wait to be sorted into Slytherin, mother."
Her mother looks as though she might faint with pride. "You see?" she says to her sisters, clapping her hands together, completely forgetting about her knitting. "Look at her – so young, yet so eager to continue our family's traditions!"
"And you?" Mrs. Black says, casting a look at Sirius. "Are you as eager as your cousin?"
"Of course," he says, and Narcissa sees, to her surprise, that he means it. He usually reserves sarcasm for his mother. "The sooner I get sorted into Slytherin, the sooner I can become the most powerful wizard that our family has ever seen." His eyes are glinting hungrily, as though he can already taste the power that he speaks of.
Mrs. Black laughs a somewhat manic laugh. "But of course! That's my dear boy, always looking to outdo everyone around him."
Sirius shrugs absently, nonplussed by this phrase. He looks at Narcissa, and the women fall back into their own conversations. "Do you want to go upstairs?"
"Isn't Regulus asleep?"
He shrugs again. "He sleeps through anything."
Narcissa agrees to go, and they quietly take leave of the adults. They scurry up the stairs to Sirius's room where it's quiet and they can be alone, left to their own imaginations.
"So," Sirius says, plopping down on his bed. He brushes his hair out of his eyes. "Where did we leave off last time?"
Narcissa frowns, trying to remember. "I think we had just eaten our annual feast, and we were about to go to our annual ball."
It is a game they've been playing for three years. He is King of Slytherin while she is his Queen, and Slytherin is the name they have given to their empire. Their game is endless – it continues on each time they meet – which is usually only six or seven times each year – and they always simply pick up right where they left off before. Simple. Continuous. Secret.
"Oh … I think you're right," Sirius says. He hops back off the bed and goes over to his closet, where they keep all of their props. He pulls out two crowns and tosses one to her. Her hair is back in a braid, so she pulls it apart and fluffs it all out before settling the crown on top of it. It's a deep gold, a few shades darker than her hair.
Sirius clears his throat, straightens his back, and sticks out his arm. "Well, my dear queen," he says, voice lowered for a dramatic, kingly effect, "shall we proceed to the ball? I do believe we've kept our loyal subjects waiting long enough."
"Certainly, my king," she says, lips pursed and chin raised. It's what her mother always does when she wants to seem very important. She loops her arm around Sirius's and together they stride out of his bedroom.
Before their imaginative eyes, the corridor becomes a crowded street, filled on either side with adoring witches and wizards, all of them dressed in flowing robes, all of them talking eagerly or bowing respectfully, all of them the type of loyal subjects that any king or queen would desire.
"It's certainly a lovely evening for a ball," Narcissa remarks, nodding respectfully at a few witches as she and Sirius walk down the corridor.
"And you, my dear queen, only make it lovelier," Sirius replies, casting her a smirk.
She elbows him. She hates his smart remarks.
"Ah, here we are," Sirius says, looking from her to the room before them.
But it isn't a room. It's a wonderful building, at least ten stories high, with lights all around it and wonderful fountains on either side. The staircases wrap around the sides and end in front of them like two serpents caught in a dance. Sirius and Narcissa smile at each other, then step forward into their magnificent ballroom.
The music is most striking at first. Music that sweeps up the golden walls, along the smooth golden floor, around and within the crystal chandelier above their heads, everywhere, music that envelops them with a sudden rush as they enter. The ceiling is painted with scenes that move gently, slowly, as if under a mystifying and beautiful trance. Candles have been charmed to float hazily near the ceiling, shedding a dim and flickering glow across the faces of those dancing solemnly below.
Sirius leads Narcissa out into the middle of the magnificent room, and he takes one of her hands awkwardly up in his own, then hesitates, unsure of where to put his other hand.
"On my back," Narcissa whispers, giggling. She catches herself quickly and turns her giggles into a smile – queens never giggle.
Sirius does so, and Narcissa thinks she sees him blushing. He confirms his embarrassment when he glances to either side of him, making sure that none of his subjects can hear him, and whispers, "I don't really know how to dance."
"Then I will teach you," she says back. "Lady Andromeda has been teaching me."
She tells him to take a step to the side, and then one back, and to the side again. He's looking down at his feet, but she makes him look up. "You have to look at me," she tells him. "Lady Bellatrix says that if a man can't look at a woman in the eyes, he isn't worthy of her."
Sirius accidentally steps on her gown, and both of them stumble a bit. Sirius looks annoyed, but Narcissa smiles. "This is so hard!" he hisses. "How do people actually do this?"
She shrugs. "Practice, I guess. Come on, give me a spin."
He spins her, and her gown flows out all around her, and now both of them are smiling. "You see?" she says. "That part wasn't hard."
His grin widens.
They dance all across the floor, back and forth and everywhere in between, until Narcissa has twirled herself dizzy. Sirius doesn't want to stop – he's only just perfected the dance steps, and now he's dancing as though he's done so professionally for his entire life. He spins Narcissa again and she stumbles, falls, and lands squarely on her bottom in the middle of the floor.
She laughs as one caught in a frenzied daze would laugh. "I need to rest for a minute. Everything is spinning."
"I like that dance," Sirius says, slumping onto the floor beside her. They are themselves again. The room has turned back into a spare bedroom, the walls have shed their golden hue, the music has dissolved into the sounds of nature outside the window, and the ceiling is as motionless as it ever was.
"I'm going to be a powerful witch," Narcissa sighs happily. "Then I can do things like this all the time."
Sirius grins. "Just don't forget me when you're off living in some mansion, with servants waiting on you hand and foot, and people adoring you everywhere." His tone is mocking, though not harsh.
She laughs. "Don't worry, you'll have your own special room for whenever you'd like to visit me. I'm sure my husband wouldn't mind."
He wrinkles his nose. "You want to get married?"
"Of course," she says, in a voice that sounds suspiciously like her mother's. "I'm going to marry a handsome, funny, kind man – pure-blood, of course – who will make me happy, and we'll be rich, and we'll live together in our mansion for as long as we want."
Sirius shrugs. "There are other ways to be happy."
"You don't want to get married?" She's surprised.
He shrugs again. "Maybe. I just want to be powerful, whatever happens. You know, like when we're playing our game, when you're a queen and I'm a king – I want it to be like that. Kings are always happy."
Narcissa frowns. "You're right. I hope my husband is powerful."
"Your husband? Don't you want to have any power?"
She seems frightened by the thought of it. "I don't know … it's usually the wizards who have most of the power, isn't it? That's the usual thing."
"Yes, but, you aren't very usual," he grins.
She elbows him.
"Hey," he laughs, "I meant it as a compliment."
"So you're saying it's a good thing that I'm unusual?"
He laughs again. "I, personally, happen to like unusual people."
She's laughing now, too. "Well, in that case, you must practically adore yourself."