1966 - Narcissa

"What were you thinking? Tell me, girl! Cygnus Black's wand jerked furiously, pointing straight at the curly-haired girl's chest. "Tell me or I might just rip it from your mind!"

Thirteen-year-old Bella's mask of stubborn indifference cracked under the threat.

But Father couldn't legilimize her! Everybody knew it could damage a mind, especially a child's! Yet witnessing Father's wrath, Narcissa was sure of nothing.

"They think they're better than us, Father ! I had to show them. It's not proper, I know, but now they'll know better."

"Oh yes, the Shafiqs won't invite us anymore, and they'll speak of us poorly. You understand nothing about power, do you, Bella ? Incarcerous ! Silencio ! If you're so magically gifted, then free yourself, dear daughter. And I dare you, come hex me. See where that gets you."

Bella squirmed, bound like ropes that writhed liked snakes. She had managed to keep hold of her walnut wand, but her wrists were trapped.

"Focus on the ropes, not your discomfort, or you'll never amount to anything," Cygnus the Elder said, standing tall in gold-lined dress robes in his portrait. His gray eyes gleamed hungrily as he pushed Bella to master feats of magic beyond most adult mages. On the opposite wall, his wife, their great-grandmother Violetta, tutted in sympathy, muttering about ingrate children. A curl to her lips betrayed how much she enjoyed witnessing the punishment.

Narcissa wordlessly left the living room. Staying would only add to her big sister's humiliation.

Later, furious eyes red from tears, Bella came to Narcissa's room. Bella's own bedroom was a chaotic mess. Plush toys shared space with stuffed animals including a baby griffin enchanted to look like a hawk if anyone outside the immediately family was in the house. Of recent, Bellatrix fancied herself an astronomer so all sorts of equipment and charts crowded the floor and even the bed. Narcissa's room, in contrast, was very neat. A shop's worth of fashionable clothes were charmed to fit human mannequins the size of Narcissa's forearm, and ordered by season and color on long shelves spanning two walls. An admittedly excessive amount of hair accessories was neatly stored in a designated white-wood wardrobe, and next to the vanity, a household potion's kit to make one's own perfumes and cosmetics took a good quarter of the room. Fascinating how the same ingredients, combined and prepared differently, could make a skin smoothening paste or a blistering solution. Father never looked too closely, believing Narcissa to be a beauty-obsessed child. Mother favored glamours over potions, and so did not suspect that her youngest was just as interested in bottling flaming shields than in granting her long hair a beautiful shine (and her hair did shine, appearances were important and Narcissa liked looking pretty.) She valued her magical lotions as much as her secret potions. They were two paths to power and influence, and Narcissa was determined to walk both.

"Father is weak," Bella decided, letting herself fall backwards spread-eagled on her sister's bed. "Tell me, Cissy, what should have I done? What would have been the proper way?"

Narcissa, sitting on her vanity's chair with her back straight and her legs crossed as elegance dictated, allowed herself an aggravated sigh. "We have nothing to offer the Shafiqs. We need to be gracious so that they feel good about inviting us."

"How can we have nothing, we're Blacks ! Hera Shafiq is a stuck up squib with-"

"It's not you. It's father and mother." Narcissa was eleven, not yet at Hogwarts, but she understood the power-plays without magic better than both her sisters. "We'll have to do better than them. Everything they say about the Black's greatness, it's wishful thinking. We must be the ones who live up to it."


A feeling Narcissa couldn't quite name welled inside her the day she took the Hogwarts Express for the first time. Families were hugging everywhere. And not just nobodies. Greengrass, Crabbe, Bones... Strong-armed hugs and broad smiles. Mother patted Narcissa's cheek and kissed her forehead, praising her poise too loudly for the words to be just for her daughter alone, and suddenly, it didn't quite feel right.

Narcissa found a compartment she could share with her sisters. She didn't immediately sit.

"Meda, Bella, I'd like a hug."

It wasn't quite right either. Asked for, and met with some confusion and more awkwardness. But Meda hugged her. She was soft and warm, wildflower scent clinging to her clothes. Bella hugged her too, with rolled eyes and arms a little too tight. Bella's own freshening charms coated her robes and skin with a smell of incense too strong to be entirely proper. Bella had always liked attention. Narcissa, her cheeks tinged pink, smiled at them.

Meda hugged her a second time. "Look at us, finally at Hogwarts all together," she said merrily, and Narcissa's smile bloomed into a grin.

Most days, Narcissa didn't know whether she should feel happy or scared to love her sisters so. The charred holes in the immense Black family tapestry inhabiting their Uncle's house betrayed that not a single generation of Blacks had remained intact. Narcissa refused that to be their future. They would have to do better, to be better.

"SLYTHERIN !" the Sorting Hat bellowed.

Narcissa struggled not to shake as she took the deceptively ratty piece of cloth off her head. It had been in her mind. It had seen everything.

Narcissa was a good listener. She understood that what mattered was not the words said.

Purebloods are superior. People must believe that we are superior.

The others are not like us. We will lose our advantages if we don't protect them.

Mudbloods will ruin England. It's convenient to blame Mudbloods for everything.

You must behave like a Black. I decide who you are, and don't you dare point out my inconsistencies.

Narcissa understood that as long as she behaved, she would not attract any negative attention. Andromeda was too rational : Narcissa could see her struggling even if Meda was too smart to argue. Bellatrix was too impatient, too stubborn to understand that raw magical power wasn't everything.

Her parents cared little for what lay beneath the surface. They cared to be deferred to. They cared what others said. Narcissa was very good at being pretty and proper.

This didn't stop Narcissa from relishing in those rare moments when her mother would brush her hair, muttering with rare affection that Narcissa was the only Black sister who knew how to behave, or when her father smiled, pleased to announce an acquaintance had spoken to him of Narcissa with approval. Narcissa's favorite room at home was the music room, because when she played music, Mother and Father would often come to sit and listen. They would say little, just be there, and they'd look... content, maybe even happy. Those memories Narcissa collected like precious stones as she already fantasized about a family of her own, which would be perfect.


1972

Narcissa stood in front of the mirror, freshly sixteen and uncommonly frustrated. Everything from the styling of her long blonde hair to the fit of her uniform had become a source of worry.

As a child, it had been easy, comfortable, to adopt the role of the perfect, pretty little girl. It had been a convenient shield, something to cloak herself in as Mother and Father introduced her to society. Of course, being a Black, everybody was convinced they knew all there was to know about her. After all, gossip on pureblood familes had been the meat of table conversation in society homes for centuries. She herself had come to Hogwarts armed with hours' worth of anecdotes on Nott's fire-enthusiastic great-great-uncle or Longbottom's undiscriminating Grandmother (a Gryffindor husband, a Gryffindor son, and such public friends with Minerva McGonagall too -not that anybody questioned the woman's competence as a teacher, but surely, if she aimed to be respectable, she would have changed her name to something that didn't broadcast that her own father was a muggle-.)

Narcissa was no little girl anymore. She was not yet a lady. She would not be for years still. Unlike some of her classmates, she had not bloomed early. Her lithe frame had only begun to shed some of its childishness towards the end of third year. As pleasant as realizing that she would grow up beautiful had been, the novelty had now faded. Now, Narcissa was left with this. A figure that attracted attention but not respect, attention she could not control and that she found herself caring little for.

She had no use for vulgar whispers. The insights they gave her into the minds of the petty and the lustful left a bad taste in her mouth.

This was unacceptable. Narcissa refused to consider her looks something to be endured. They would have to become of use. To serve her and not outsiders' intruding gazes. She could tell that the sixth and seventh years were more mature than her peers, and that some of her troubles would lessen greatly just by virtue of growing up, but her patience was at an end.

Until now, Narcissa had found power in being overlooked in the way well-behaved children are. Silence had been Narcissa's invisibility cloak. Her sisters were the only ones who could claim to know her. Now silence meant others judged her shy, weak, with little personality of her own.

She briefly debated shaving her head to wordlessly make a statement. The thought made her sad. Selfishly, she enjoyed being beautiful. She was aware there was a power to be harnessed from attractiveness, if only she figured out how.

After all, would Meda have left had she not been attracted to that mudblood? Surely her big sister would realize her folly and come back? Narcissa hadn't had a good night's sleep since that fateful letter, a month before. Ironically, as Narcissa soothed herself through study, she'd never done so well in class.

It happened one late winter day, as Narcissa was walking down the stairs back from the Owlery, alone. Her hand slid in her pocket, her fingers curling around her wand, as a group of fifth year boys, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, went quiet and turned to stare. They weren't pleasant stares.

"Do you think she's so stiff with her clothes off?"

Anthony Vance's friends, all boys, snickered as she walked past in silence, her calm forced.

"You know what they say about the quiet ones..." Vance added behind her. "I bet she's a screamer."

Humiliated and furious beneath her affected indifference, Narcissa decided it was time.

Bella let out a curious hum, her eyes crinkled in approval, as Narcissa asked her to spread the rumor she was interested in Vance. Narcissa wanted him to come to her. Bella herself, despite being close to eighteen, had yet to show any interest in romance and sex. Power games, on the other hand, were something she quite enjoyed.

"Is this to be a short or a long game, little sister ?"

"He thinks he's such a big man," Narcissa whispered, her fingers curled into fists. "I want to break his heart."

Bellatrix's grin held nothing friendly. "Good. And if you get impatient, I know a curse that makes boys unable to feel their dicks for days. It doesn't harm their precious tool, but usually they fumble around so much in a panic that they end up breaking it all by themselves. Imagine the pain when the curse is removed."

Narcissa winced. She herself preferred more subtle methods. There was nothing special about breaking a body, but a mind? That required greater finesse.

And so began a game of push and pull, where she confessed feelings to Vance in darkened corridors but then invoked her parents, and demanded they kept their love a secret. She was passionate, then cold, pretending deep hurt when he failed to live up to whatever expectations she decided a girlfriend ought to have.

She and Bella laughed themselves silly after Narcissa received a solid silver raven-shaped pendant the size of her thumb.

"I told him I needed something that would remind me of him when he wasn't around. He gave me a used shirt. I just had to point out Angita had been given a ruby-studded bracelet by her boyfriend who clearly valued her. I refused to talk to him for a couple of weeks. This must have cost all his savings"

Bella groaned, her shoulders shaking with laughter. "Why doesn't that asinine half-blood just dump you? You're not that hot."

"Bragging points," Narcissa said cynically. "He has this idea of me in his mind that has nothing to do with any kind of reality." Vance had shown very little curiosity for her opinions, unless they were about him. He claimed to be madly in love with her, but Narcissa was confused as to who he was in love with.

"Why do you bother? Just hex him, Cissy, with something nasty and public. They won't expel you unless you maim him, and I assure you nobody in Hogwarts will forget."

Narcissa shook her head, her narrowed eyes set. Bella believed magic was the key to power, but Narcissa, for all she loved magic, knew it was people. "No spell can do this."

Vance's best friend was Byron Shacklebolt, a pureblood and a suitable marriage prospect, despite being Gryffindor. Narcissa made sure to flirt with Shacklebolt, just subtly enough to be able to accuse Vance of being controlling when he would protest. Byron, the arrogant fool, thought he had a chance, and made a very public, very ill advised move one night where drinks had been snuck in from Hogsmeade. The friendship did not survive.

Narcissa slept with Orpheus Travers, because of all the boys in Slytherin, the sixth year had a reputation for being discreet, and for being an encounter witches did not regret. Narcissa had to admit she had fun, and that he was quite the teacher. Not that Vance had been bad... The thrill of success had made up for any inadequacies. And Vance had yet to realize he so often got caught when he sneaked out of the Tower to meet her because she organized things in such a way that prefects or teachers would find him. The close to a hundred points his horniness had cost Ravenclaw weren't earning him any friends.

"Poor Vance, what did that clueless Raven ever do to you ?"

Narcissa raised an eyebrow at Travers. If he wanted a sincere answer, he would need to give her more.

"Only a blind man would think you undecided," he continued, a smile dancing in his eyes. "You know where you're going every step of the way. He thinks you'll be wholly his if he tries hard enough... Why punish him like that ?"

Narcissa softened, seized by a rare urge to brag. "He was vulgar about me to make his friends laugh."

Travers shook his head, tracing a finger down her naked side as he struggled not to laugh. "What a flobberworm."

A content smile graced Narcissa's lips, yet she wondered. There was something hollow about playing a boy like a puppet. Vance was selfish, disrespectful unless he had something to gain, and cared about her being his more than he cared to know her. All this time spent with him, thinking of him, of wearing masks in the most intimate situations... Narcissa found herself growing eager to put an end to it.

She had thought to learn how to weaponize her beauty, but she also now hungered for a relationship that felt true. Travers, who she had little power over, but who looked at her first and her body second, left her feeling, well... good, and sometimes wishing for more. A few months into their... liaison, she admitted to herself that she'd seduced Travers because she was curious to see what else there could between lovers, other than this charade she played to secure her reputation. She was surprised to see that Travers, Orpheus, who she'd found reasonably attractive at first, but nothing all that special, now caught her eye and her imagination. In short, she liked him, and wished for more people to like.

Eight weeks before the O.W.L exams, it was high time to snap the trap shut. Narcissa became the perfect girlfriend. She whispered to Anthony, Tony, that she had decided to be brave. That she was tired of fighting against her feelings, even if her Black upbringing told her this wasn't right. Hogwarts was abuzz when they walked together down the Great Hall, hand in hand, most of the students struggling to believe the rumors had been true.

She never pouted or argued during those weeks. She laughed at his jokes. He glowed brighter with every passing day. She would study on her own, and sabotage their shared study sessions with conversation, cuddles and embraces. When his Ravenclaw instincts would rear their head, she would flatter him into convincing himself he was smarter than he was (and he knew she cared for her grades and, as far as he knew, she wasn't studying any harder than he was). Any guilt Narcissa might have felt was squashed by Vance's attitude. Now that he was certain she loved him, he was even less curious about what she felt and thought. He talked over her, spoke of other witches in a vulgar way, and expected Narcissa to feel special that she alone was spoken of with respect. Worse, he had begun making plans about spending her inheritance, as if the money was already his. Bella had started calling him the Niffler.

Narcissa came to see him at breakfast, before the start of the first O.W.L. exam. Eyes turned to her and stared. She wasn't wearing her uniform, but a black, corseted dress worthy of a Yule Ball.

"So, Vance, am I so stiff with my clothes off ? Do I... scream ?" she asked with an innocent smile. Her voice was loud. The whole Ravenclaw table could hear her.

Vance looked confused. Color slowly left his face. "Cissa, what?"

"How you could think, even for one second, that I had so little self-respect I would like you..." Her eyes stopped smiling. "Well, this was fun. Thank you for showing me all the ways a man can be self-absorbed and tragically blind. All the ways a man can be made a fool of... Never disrespect me again."

The look on his face, of something shattering, was deeply satisfying. The way the people around Vance looked at her, in disbelief or horror, was priceless. Narcissa would not ever be just a desirable body to them anymore.

"Oi, Vance !" Bella hollered from the Slytherin table, "Your Runes O.W.L is about to start ! I hope you're ready!"

Six O.W.L.s passed out of the ten Vance sat, all A's and just two scraped Es. For a boy who'd started the year in the top quarter of his class.

Narcissa heard that in a panic, he'd studied all night for his Herbology theory, and ended up falling asleep during the actual exam. Such a shame, especially considering it was a required N.E.W.T.s for the magical botanist job he'd been so passionate about.

Such was the price of crossing her.


"Aren't you scared no one's ever going to want to date you after this?" Sirius stared at her with mistrust. They were by the lake, enjoying the early summer sun and trying not to think too hard about the fact they'd soon have to board the Express.

He was her cousin, and twelve-years-old, so Narcissa decided to answer. "Only people of no consequence." Sarcasm seeped into her voice. "Cousin, do you truly think I am such an expert manipulator that the poor, loving boy never stood a chance? Have you paused to think maybe he liked the lie so much he never cared to look for the truth?"

Sirius snorted. "I know Vance is a jerk." His smile faded. "But people do fool each other. You cared and paid attention, but Meda still fooled you."

The casual cruelty of the statement cut unexpectedly deep. Narcissa stiffened. "It's different. Meda decided all the good of being a Black failed to make up for the bad. I don't think she was ever insincere about loving us." Narcissa hadn't thought to look.

"Then why won't you write her!"

"And lose my status? My inheritance? All hope of peace at home?" Narcissa barely kept her voice calm, but she couldn't help it. "All that for a sister who has shown quite clearly I am not her priority?"

"You're making a huge deal about writing a letter. Nobody's going to tell our parents. You could have it all : be perfect Cissy Black and still talk to Meda. Where's your Slytherin ambition?" Sirius, arms crossed and earnest, stared at her with intent gray eyes. "Is it Bella forcing you to choose?"

"I don't want to write a letter!" Narcissa spat. "I want my sister! Ambition is about not settling for crumbs! She's like the rest of them, getting herself blown off the tapestry! She gave up! She's a coward."

Sirius stared wide-eyed, his mouth half-open. It had to be the first time he'd heard her shout.

"I -"

"Shut up! Never, ever, talk to me of Andromeda. If she wants to talk to me, she can come home."

"Come on, she can't."

"She can. It'd be painful, and loud, and a lot of things..." Narcissa sucked in a breath as she struggled to regain her composure. "Cousin, she chose to run away with a mudblood. She doesn't lack the courage to come home. She just doesn't want to."

A whoosh of air and a blur of silver and gray announced Bellatrix's presence. The elder Black jumped off her broomstick, an eyebrow raised.

"Who doesn't want to?"

This was not a conversation Narcissa felt ready to have with Bella. "You, marry Barty Crouch."

Bella grimaced.

Sirius, to his credit, took it in stride. "He can't shut up about being pureblood, he's full of dark, cruel humor, and quick to duel anything that moves. All the girls say he's dead cute. I even heard he doesn't get along with his father, so you don't have to worry about dad-in-law ruling your life. What not to love?"

Bella grimaced. "That sore loser has yet to beat me in a duel. And honestly, you know who he reminds me of? Reggie. Barty can't hide how needy he is deep down. You can have him, cousin."

Sirius' grimace was now a mirror of Bella's. "Great sale. I don't think I've ever been so turned off."

"How's your Protego?" Bella's eyes shone and her smile had an edge. Her broom lay on the ground forgotten as she twirled her wand.

"Sexier than Bartemius Crouch Junior." Sirius whipped out his wand, a mask of bravado painting a forced smile on his face. "Hit me with your worst, I dare you!"

Morgana. "Your worst stunner," Narcissa warned. "I don't want to have to clean up the pieces."

The jet of red light was as thick as a finger crashed against Sirius' small but solid golden shield with a dull CRACK. The shield shattered into wisps of magic. Sirius stumbled backwards, struggling to keep his balance. He finally straightened with a gasp, clutching his wand arm.

"Ha! I win! I'm still standing! It only feels like you broke my arm!"

Bella scoffed. "I'm going to expect better from you next year, firstie. Run off to Potter before I change my mind about taking pity on you."

Sirius didn't make her ask twice, charmed his truck wallet-sized, and sped off to where the chariots were waiting.

Bella turned to Narcissa, looking thoughtful. "I was scared Gryffindor would make him soft. He's not doing too bad."

"Aunt Walburga and Uncle Orion will harden him back up this summer."

Bella stared at her tone. "So cynical, Cissy. Bad day?"

Andromeda never came home. Narcissa tried not to think about it. She was glad when the letters stopped coming.


1973 -

It was early winter in her sixth year at Hogwarts, and for the first time in a decade, Narcissa was the only Black sister gracing the castle's halls. She watched other students in twos and fours, making it this whole friendship business look so uncomplicated. Unfortunately, she hadn't managed to find more than pleasant acquaintances among the students in her year, and the ones immediately above and below. The truth was, friendship required more sincerity and vulnerability than she had been prepared to show to all but her sisters.

Narcissa stiffened, the thought of Meda still quick to summon a feeling of cold betrayal. Always, Andromeda had promised. Until something better had come along. Her sisters were the only people Narcissa had thought she truly knew. Apparently she'd been wrong about that too.

Anyway, she'd once had two sisters, now she had only one. She had to be strong and move on.

Narcissa bit back a sigh. She just needed good company. The obvious place to begin her search was the Slytherin common room.

Such a pity Orpheus was now steadily seeing Silvana. No other boy among the sixth and seventh years, or even the fifth years, was half as fun. Rowan and Benjamin had seemed promising, but Narcissa had each time grown bored after less than two months. They didn't understand her, or what she wanted. For them if you weren't a girlfriend, a woman they could call theirs, you were simply a girl to enjoy, one not worthy of much effort besides making sure you were willing and, later, willing to come back.

Of course, there were other types of company, but by sixth and seventh year most people were set in their friendships, and Narcissa hated to admit that she was too proud to let anyone see that she was lonely.

After a few days of indecision, her attention fell on young Snape.

Severus Snape, a surly half-blood who had failed to conceal both his parentage and his lack of family fortune. Even his looks were unfortunate. He would grow to be a tall man, but as of now he was just gangly and stooped, with lanky hair that did his face no favors. The boy spent an inordinate amount of time with a Gryffindor mudblood, and had the distinction of being her cousin Sirius' favorite enemy. Narcissa's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. All things considered, that boy did not spend quite enough time in the hospital wing, and his Slytherin classmates didn't give him as much grief as one could have have expected.

There was no question about it. Snape had to be more advanced in magic than the average third year.

Snape was scribbling in the margins of his potions book. He shut his dark eyes for a few seconds at a time, and then scribbling once more. Three books, two potions and one arithmancy, were open on the table. Opposite him, cousin Reggie struggled with his own homework. He'd found in Snape a good tutor, and despite the fact Regulus spent half his allowance to buy that half-blood's time, Regulus treated him as if they were friends. Her youngest Black cousin was a Hufflepuff at heart. Everybody was fond of him (Narcissa first among them, Regulus was truly lovely), for all his sometimes exasperating neediness.

"What are you writing, Mr. Snape?"

Snape snapped his textbook shut. "Nothing."

"They say you change your potions. Do you want me to show you a spell of my own?"

The half-blood stared like she'd spoken a foreign language.

"That's not code for anything dirty," Reggie said with a wink. "Go see her spell."

Snape, now a healthy shade of red, muttered something that sounded distinctively like a muggle obscenity. He spelled the rest of his books shut and into his bag as he made to follow her. Bags enchanted to be bigger on the inside ran for dozens of galleons Narcissa knew Snape did not have. If he had enchanted it himself, he'd be already more interesting than most wizards in her year.

Narcissa now had the whole dorm of six to herself. Every day she came back from classes to three bunk beds, courtesy of the Hogwarts House Elves, and every day she transfigured them in pieces of furniture, playing with different arrangements. There were more than enough other bunks in the dorms for the other Slytherin students, and the Black girls having their own room had gone so long unchallenged that someone had yet to bring it up to Narcissa.

"I want you to look suitably impressed, Snape," she warned.

Snape bristled, but then relaxed slightly and gave her a courteous nod, proving he wasn't completely devoid of social intelligence.

Narcissa silently pointed her wand towards herself and wove it in a series of concentric circles broken by jagged breaks. She thought of Vance, Shacklebolt and all those people who'd never been able to see beyond her looks. She poured her bitterness, her vindictiveness in the spell until the memories held less bite. In less than five seconds, she still looked like herself only different. Somewhat... unremarkable.

Severus shook his head. He grabbed the bag he'd set down and turned his back to her. "I've got studying to do."

The dorm door stayed shut.

Narcissa counted the seconds as Snape cursed and used every unlocking spell he knew (five, Narcissa knew just seven, and a half-blood third year shouldn't have known more than three).

He suddenly stiffened and dropped his bag, his back still to her. He was aware of her presence once more.

Narcissa smiled. "So, have you understood my spell ?"

When he turned back to face her, he was covering his eyes with his hand.

"It has a purpose not unlike a disillusionment charm, except I remember seeing you before I was suddenly convinced I should go study. Since I'm not losing my line of thought right now, the spell is triggered by sight. It actively directs my mind to think of other things : it's dark arts."

An intelligent boy. "Very good. I've dropped the spell, you can look."

Snape slowly lowered his hand and blinked, his dark eyes now entirely focused on her. Rudely so. Had anyone ever bothered to teach him manners? Nevertheless she could see an interest in his eyes that had not been there before. It was her spell, not her name or her beauty, that had captured his attention. Narcissa suspected she might be able to forgive Severus Snape a lot, just for that.

"Your turn now, Snape. Surprise me and I will teach you the incantation. Being seen but not noticed can come in useful." Sirius and Potter went unmentioned, but Snape could hear quite clearly what she wasn't saying.

The awkward teen failed to conceal he now desperately wanted her spell. He pulled out his wand and pointed it on the transfigured full-sized triple mirror opposite the dorm door.

Suddenly, the two of them could not see themselves in the reflection anymore. Curious, Narcissa grabbed a pillow off her bed. The pillow vanished as soon as it touched her. Interesting. Snape hadn't frozen the picture in the mirror, something she could easily do. Although doing so, and silently, was already a respectable feat for a third year

She summoned a vial of perfume from her bed-stand. It zoomed to her in the reflection, becoming invisible only when it reached her hand. It's not movement that makes the reflections vanish then.

Eyebrows furrowed, Narcissa transfigured the pillow at her feet into a turtle. It was a sluggish, lumpy tortoise. Object-to-living transfiguration was not her forte. Nevertheless, the tortoise was alive, moving, and reflected quite normally.

A small appraising smile spread on Narcissa's lips. The mirror could tell what was human and what wasn't. Not bad at all. Narcissa couldn't recall any charm or enchantment that could do that. Oh she could enchant a given mirror to ignore her, or charm a specific person to not have a reflection, but she didn't know how to make a mirror blind to all witches and wizards, unless she also made it also blind to every moving object.

And she hadn't quite finished assessing how this particular spell worked.

She met Snape's eyes as she levitated her vial of perfume, this time while standing between the mirror and the bottle. Snape didn't flinch, on the contrary, his eyes sparkled with challenge. Narcissa suspected he was having fun.

The crystal vial was perfectly reflected despite being hidden from the mirror by Narcissa's body. So it couldn't be that the mirror erased people's reflections and, though some clever time-based charm, used a memory of the surroundings to fill in the blanks. It was simply impossible for a mirror to reflect an object not in its line of sight.

"Were I to take a picture with a camera, would I see everything reflected as it should be?"

It was definitely a smile crinkling Snape's dark eyes. "Yes."

"You alter people's perception. They find themselves unable to see others' reflections." People were the spell's target. The mirror was just the recipient. Narcissa had seen the perfume's reflection because, with her body invisible, her mind expected her to.

"It's fascinating that vision is the sense we rely on the most, but also the easiest to fool," for the first time, she heard confidence in Severus Snape's voice. He spoke slowly, his enthusiasm contained but clearly there. "I have been working on a sound spell to prevent eavesdroppers, but it yet has to work without silencing them to me in return."

Narcissa was rarely impressed. She liked being impressed. "What books have you been using for your spell theory?"

He glared, defensive once more. "The Hogwarts Library."

Morgana, had they all been so blind just because he was so... unpolished?

"Well, that won't do." She walked to her enchanted trunk. "Here, let me lend you a few."

"Why?" Snape managed after a few seconds of shock. "What do you want? I mean, thank you, Miss Black," he added awkwardly, his mistrust still evident.

Narcissa couldn't help smiling. "Call me Narcissa. I don't feel threatened by the idea you may have something to teach me." My blood, upbringing and connections mean you can't possibly threaten my position. "On the contrary, with Bella gone, I'm desperate for a challenge."

Snape looked a little thunderstruck. Narcissa could tell compliments would go a long way with the poor creature.

"As for what I want, since your friendship with Evans brings the two of you nothing but grief from others, I believe she still puts up with it because you're actually a worthy friend to have. So just... don't make me regret it."

Cousin Reggie had told her that Evans and Snape had grown up in the same muggle neighborhood, and that Snape had been the one to tell Evans about magic. Oddly, Narcissa wasn't bothered by his association with the mudblood. Perhaps because Snape was of too low breeding to be expected to know better. Perhaps because Evans didn't seem to take her presence at Hogwarts for granted. "My third year muggleborn, Lily Evans, could have made a better potion!" was a sentence Professor Slughorn had actually said.

Now Snape was looking at Narcissa like she had grown a second head. And he kept at it too.

Narcissa sighed. "Alright, Severus, be honest with me, is status important to you?"

"Yes." His eyes, his tight shoulders, his whole bearing said too much. His posture screamed of insecurities. It wouldn't do at all.

"Then we have work to do. You're going to have to put up with me acting like a... well, it's my mother who taught me how to behave, but I promise it won't be quite that bad."

"Why? It's... it's just a few spells. Most Slytherin have the ability, if only they applied themselves."

"True, but they don't. You do. Don't undervalue yourself, or people will walk all over you."

He bristled. His eyes darted to the door. Then, finally, he relaxed slightly.

"Yes, mother," he muttered.

He blushed immediately, his body language screaming that he feared he'd been overly familiar.

Narcissa smiled, endeared despite herself. Severus was so obviously in need of validation. "You know, I think you'll survive this."

Perhaps, in a few month's time, he would stop looking so shocked at hearing her joke.

She hadn't had someone that was hers since Bella had left. And who knows, maybe Severus really was smarter than her, in spells at least, and wouldn't that be useful?


And that's it for Narcissa's first part!

I think of her as someone who works within the system to get what she wants instead of fighting against it, but she's not any less eager to be able to be herself than her sisters or Sirius (no spoilers for Regulus). And of course, having grown up Black, she already has a lifetime's worth of baggage warping her conception of relationships. But that's what's so fun about writing the Blacks^^.