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"Sometimes the last thing you want comes in first;
Sometimes the first thing you want never comes."
-"Strange and Beautiful," Aqualung

Chapter Eight
The Closet

Lucius graduates in June. A few days afterwards, his parents throw an impossibly grand party at their home, and everyone is invited. Their home is called Malfoy Manor – the name strikes fear into Narcissa's heart every time she hears it.

Narcissa dreads this party for the entire day. When it finally comes time to leave her house, she pretends that she can't find her shoes. When Bellatrix finds the shoes in the closet – even after Narcissa claims that she's already looked there five times – Narcissa says that she can't find her other earring. Her mother tells her to simply take out the one she's already wearing, but Narcissa claims that by doing this, she'll have to change her entire outfit, because it certainly isn't complete without the earrings.

"Mother," Bellatrix sighs, raising a polished finger towards the clock, "can't we just leave her here? We're going to be late!"

Her mother looks shocked. "Of course we can't leave her here. Do you have any idea how disrespectful that would look? They would immediately assume that we think we're so high and mighty that we can include or disclude whomever we want to their party! It's completely out of the question. Narcissa, come here and stop that fussing."

"Disclude isn't a word, mother," she says. A quiet statement of defiance.

Her mother narrows her eyes at her. "You'd better behave yourself at this party, young lady. I don't know why you're so against going, but you're going, and you'll remember your manners, or else you'll be sorry for it when we come back home."

Narcissa glares at her shoes.

They arrive at the party just a few minutes after three. About seventy people have already arrived before them, so Narcissa's mother sets off on an almost impossible mission to find Lucius's parents. Andromeda disappears somewhere almost instantly, and Bellatrix scans the room for Lucius. Narcissa, meanwhile, sneaks unnoticed into the kitchen to see if she can hide there for a little while.

Luckily, no one important is in the kitchen. It's full and buzzing with around two dozen house elves, all running around wildly to ensure that all of the food is prepared and that there is four times more than enough of it. Narcissa has never really liked house elves. She ignores them.

She sits on an unopened brown box in front of the main pantry's door. She leans against the back of the door, eyes closed tightly, wondering if she can will herself into becoming invisible.

Suddenly, she hears hushed voices. She opens her eyes again, looks around the room, and tries to see if anyone is whispering around her. All of the house elves are still bustling around, yelling frantic orders at each other or taking quick tastes of the food to see if it's ready. None look as though they've just been whispering. She frowns and leans back against the door again.

The voices are still there. They seem to be coming from behind her. But if they are coming from behind her, then that means that there's someone in the pantry …

Confused, she gets up off the box and scoots it a little to the side. Then, glancing around to ensure that no one is watching her, she opens the pantry's door very slightly, just wide enough that she can see inside.

It's Sirius, of course. He, Andromeda, Regulus, and two other children Narcissa doesn't recognize are sitting there, each on their own overturned box. Sirius raises an eyebrow at her. "Well? Are you going to join us, then?"

She quickly lets herself in and then shuts the door quietly behind her. There's a small light bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting a dim light in the crowded closet. Even so, it's rather dark. The pantry smells of spices and musty bread, and as Narcissa's eyes adjust to the darkness, she can see that bread is what mostly covers all of the shelves. There seems to be every kind of bread in existence – white, wheat, rye, French, and rolls of every imaginable kind.

Sirius, who is pleasantly chewing on a sourdough roll, motions for her to sit next to him. There isn't very much room on the box upon which he's seated, even when he scoots over, but she manages to squeeze in next to him after a bit of shifting around. His arm is touching hers; his leg is wedged alongside her leg. Both limbs are very hot and sweaty – there isn't much air in the closet.

"So," Sirius muses, looking at her sideways, "how did you know we were in here?"

"I didn't," she says honestly. "I was sitting on a box on the other side of this door."

He swallows a bite of the roll. "Why?"

She shrugs. "I was hiding."

Andromeda laughs at her. "Is that why you didn't want to come? You were afraid of seeing someone?"

Narcissa blushes. She'll have to learn to think before she speaks. "No. Not at all. I just …"

"Don't you want to know why we're here?" Sirius asks, picking up her silence.

She nods. There is something in her eyes that thanks him for the subject change, and there is something in his eyes that says, "Don't mention it." An unspoken language.

"We are here," Sirius goes on, "because we are trying to figure out where we'll stand once Bellatrix marries Lucius."

Narcissa's heart flutters. "And why would you want to do that?"

Sirius shrugs. "It's good to know where we'll stand. Honestly, Narcissa, sometimes I wonder how you scheme things at all. Everyone knows that the first step to getting somewhere is making a solid foundation. If we know where we'll stand after she marries prettyboy, then we'll have a better idea of how we can kill him afterwards and make it look like an accident."

Andromeda smirks, the shadows dancing all along her face. "Sirius, my dear cousin, you make it sound like some wild battle plan."

He snaps his fingers. "Exactly. That's exactly what it is."

"I'm hungry," Regulus announces. "Sirius, where did you get that bread?"

"Shut up. Now, the rest of you – "

"Who are you?" Narcissa interrupts, pointing at the two children she doesn't recognize.

"I'm Rabastan," says one of them, though it's more of a grunt than an actual response. He appears to be Narcissa's age, maybe a year or two older, and his face is very thin and sharp. His chin juts outward and there are dark shadows under each of his eyes – he almost looks like a skull that has yet to decompose.

The other one, also a boy, says nothing. He sinks further back into the shadows.

Sirius chews his sourdough roll nonchalantly, staring at the boy as if he were simply another piece of bread. "He doesn't talk much."

"Not at all, actually," says Andromeda. "He hasn't spoken a word this entire time. He just follows Rabastan around."

"I don't even know who he is," grunts Rabastan, looking rather irritated by the whole ordeal.

Sirius snaps out of his trance, then glares at each of them in turn. "We're getting off track. We need to focus."

Andromeda sighs, leaning back on the shelves. "Sirius, I'll be in my fifth year next term. Fifteen years old. I have bigger things to be worrying about than my sister's personal life."

He shakes his head at her, as if she's the most naïve person he's ever met. "Andromeda, darling, think about it: Bellatrix marries. You therefore gain a brother, and a rich one at that, since Lucius is a rich bastard. Bellatrix therefore becomes a rich bastardess."

"Not a word," Narcissa observes.

Sirius glares at her, and she shuts her mouth. "Anyway," he says, "she moves in with him. They do their little marriage things. Our parents, meanwhile, have nothing better to do than to … well …"

Andromeda's eyes widen. "Move on to me!"

Sirius snaps his fingers again. "Exactly. You. You'll be their next project, and then once they've married you off to some rich wizard with a blond ponytail, they'll move on to Narcissa."

"Well what about you?" Narcissa asks, not wanting to talk about her future marriage. "You're the same age as me. They'll be looking for you long before they start looking for me."

He shakes his head. He leans back against the shelves, arms folded behind his head, looking extremely haughty. It's almost irritating. "Nope. I have a feeling they'll be looking for Regulus long before they start looking for me. Well, as long as he gets sorted into Slytherin."

Narcissa frowns. "Oh yes? And why is that?"

"Because." He sits up straight, suddenly looking quite serious. "I'm the bad child, Narcissa. I threw my life away by getting sorted into Gryffindor on purpose. Had it all planned out, you understand. I sorted myself into Gryffindor just to annoy the lot of them. Completely my fault. Without question."

"They can't still blame you?" she asks, bewildered by this realization.

Andromeda gives her a look that could be taken for pity. "Of course they blame him, Narcissa. Think of our family. Think of the way they function."

Narcissa stares at her. "They?"

Andromeda looks down. She says nothing.

"Andromeda … it's your family. We aren't a they."

She looks up. Her eyes are glistening yet fierce, and she looks more defiant than Narcissa has ever seen her look. It's almost frightening. "There are other views out there besides our family's, Narcissa. There are other people with other ideas." She pauses, and her chin trembles. "I like some of their ideas better than I like ours."

Narcissa is suddenly angry. "I don't understand. What on earth do you mean?"

"Oh think about it," she snaps back, just as angrily. "Think of what our family is doing to Bellatrix. If Malfoy came from muggle parents, or was in a different house, or even if he was exactly the same as he is now except that he was ugly, do you really think they would have looked twice at him? What are they doing to us?"

Narcissa glares at her. "They're looking out for us. They're trying to ensure that we're safe. That we have good, solid lives."

Andromeda suddenly laughs, but it's a bitter, cold laugh. "That's just it, Narcissa. They don't want us to have lives." She then stands, shoves Regulus aside, and storms out of the closet, letting the door slam behind her.

Narcissa turns to Sirius, still fuming from her argument. Her arm loses contact with his for the first time since she's sat down, and she can feel it damp with perspiration. She doesn't know whether it's his or her own. "Well?" she asks him, waiting for him to say something. To take her side.

He looks at her, at his roll, tosses it aside, leans back against the cabinets, and lets out a long, indecisive, defeated sigh. "I don't know."

And it's strange, because that's exactly how she feels.

"Oh, and, Narcissa?"

She looks at him.

"Why are you only wearing one earring?"