For the Writing Club [Love in Motion] on the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Forum.


1972


Narcissa startled as the doors to the Hospital Wing clanged open. Still resting against her pillows, she turned her head to watch as Dumbledore strode through the doors, the small body of a boy collapsed in his arms. Narcissa peered curiously at the boy as Madam Pomfrey rushed over to the pair, immediately fussing over them. The nurse levitated his body easily, smoothly bringing his body to the bed next to hers.

But before she could get a closer look at him, the separating curtains between them were pulled together. And after a few moments of listening to Madam Pomfrey's mumbled worries and Dumbledore's gentle soothing, Narcissa frowned as the chatter faded from her ears and was replaced with an all to familiar buzz.

The Muffliato Charm, Narcissa thought. How curious.

But even her curiosity couldn't keep her awake. Within moments, Narcissa's eyes fluttered closed. The pain in her leg had begin to dull, and it was easy to let sleep overcome her.


She got the impression that Lucius was only visiting her because someone had told him to—probably his mother...or maybe even hers. There was no other reason to explain why he, who so clearly did not wish to be there, was sitting by her side. His back was rigid in his chair and his arms were folded as he stared down at her. No matter how hard she looked, she couldn't find an ounce of sympathy in them.

"You should take better care of yourself," he scolded. "What were you thinking, going flying all by yourself? You've never been a good flyer. You should have known something like this would happen."

Narcissa pursed her lips to keep herself from answering. To keep herself from informing him that she was, in fact, an excellent flyer. That she had flown many times all by herself and never had any problems before. The gust of wind that had blown her into the Whomping Willow's branches was a freak accident and most certainly not a mark against her own abilities. But she couldn't say those things. She could hear her mother whispering in her ear, telling her not to make a scene.

"I'll be more careful," she said finally. "Promise."

"Yes. You will." Lucius' voice was clipped. "I'm very busy. If you continue to get yourself into such accidents, I won't be able to be at your beck and call. And I don't care to employ a Healer to compensate for your silliness."

It was a laughable thought. Lucius Malfoy, tripping over himself to care for her.

"I'll be more careful," she repeated.

"Good."

He didn't even mutter a goodbye as he picked himself off the chair and left the room. Still, Narcissa couldn't help but watch after him. She wondered if he might surprise her—if he might pause mid-step and look back at her. He might even gift her a small smile. Truthfully, she wasn't sure what she wanted from him. Just something—anything—to make her feel as though he cared at all. But he disappeared through the doors without even a single glance, the heavy wooden doors thudding behind him.

The boy next to her looked over, one eyebrow raised. "He seems like a real charmer."

"He's my fiancé."

"Unfortunate for you, that."

Narcissa frowned. "It's rude to listen to other people's conversations, you know?"

"Sorry. Won't do it again." The boy, back propped against the wall, gave a shrug. Then, in an echo of her own earlier words, he said, "Promise."

His cheek did nothing to improve her mood, and she could feel her expression darkening. But once more, she restrained herself. Instead of offering a snappy retort, she moved her gaze towards him. She noted his sunken eyes and frail limbs. White bandages, spotted with red, were wrapped around his torso and arms.

"You're in Gryffindor," she said slowly, hoping her voice didn't betray her alarm. "A first year?"

"Second," he corrected. "Name's Remus Lupin."

"I'm—"

"Narcissa Black." Much to her distain, he sounded bored as he said it. "Slytherin. Seventh year. Engaged, apparently, to Lucius Malfoy."

"It's also rude to interrupt."

"Right. Sorry."

She cocked her head to one side. "You look terrible. Must've been worse than a measly flying accident."

"Ah, so it's not rude to comment on one's appearance?"

"It is," she said. "But you don't seem to care for manners, so I don't see why I should."

"Huh."

But his demeanor had changed. Instead of looking her square in the eyes, he began to stare blankly at the wall in front of him. By the time she'd gathered the courage to apologise for overstepping, he had shifted entirely away from her. All she could see was the back of his shoulders, moving up and down with the timing of his breath.


"All healed, Miss Black." Madam Pomfrey looked expectantly down at her. She held out a small bag towards her. "You're welcome to leave. I've prepared a few potions for you should you experience any more pain. Of course, come back if it's too unbearable."

The bag hung heavy in her hands. "Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."

But even after such a clear dismissal, Narcissa found herself hovering in the room. In particular, she found herself being pulled towards the bed that neighboured the bed that was once hers. She was sure that Remus was awake, even if he had chosen to ignore the pleasantries she had spoken earlier that day.

It didn't seem possible, but he looked even smaller when she stood at his bedside. For the first time in her life, she knew what it felt like to tower over someone—to be overbearing.

"Lupin..." The name rolled easily off her tongue. She placed a small chocolate—a get well gift sent to her from her elder sister—on his side table. "I hope you feel better soon."

Although she hadn't expected it, the sight of him gingerly rolling his body towards her brought a smile to her lips. He looked curiously at the sweet, wrapped in green foil.

"It helps," she said, beaming down at him. "Really."

"Thanks." After a moment of silence, he added, "You should keep flying. If you enjoy it, that is."

Suddenly, Narcissa found it a lot easier to leave.


One Month Later


When Aquila Greengrass found herself in the Hospital Wing after an unfortunate incident in Potions class, Narcissa was the first one to visit. Armed with the most chocolate she could possibly carry, she charged into the room, her eyes darting around in a frantic search for her friend. But much to her surprise, Aquila was not the patient present.

Narcissa blinked. "Lupin. Here again?"

Remus looked up at her, surprised. This time, he was not alone. Instead, he was surrounded by three boys. One, Narcissa noted, was her cousin. Sirius appeared more surprised than Remus to see her there. But unlike Remus, he was glaring at her, eyes hard and untrusting.

"How do you know Remus? Why are you talking to him?"

"I—"

"Narcissa Black," Remus said amiably, undeterred by the obvious discomfort of those around him. "Did you go flying again?"

"I—uh, yes."

"And here I thought I had a visitor." Aquila looked over at her, arms crossed and amused. "Come on, Cissy. I'm dying for some of that chocolate."

Narcissa hesitated, but then scuttled towards her friend, popping herself down on the chair next to her. Behind her, she could hear someone—Sirius, surely—pulling the curtain between them closed. But before she could allow herself to dwell on that, Aquila was throwing up a Muffliato Charm and grinning up at her wickedly.

"A second year, Cissy? I didn't know you were into younger men," she said teasingly. "Does Lucius know he has such stiff competition?"

"Stop that."

"Then stop looking so concerned," Aquila retorted. "Honestly."

"I'm not concerned." But she couldn't help herself. She had to ask. "But do you know why he's here? He looks..."

Aquila's eyes softened. "Awful, right? I don't know what happened. Dumbledore brought him in a few hours ago."

"Oh."

"Now, I really would love some of that chocolate..."


1993


She found out during her son's third year at Hogwarts. Remus Lupin was a werewolf. Or, at least, that was what the rumour mill said. She imagined few would have the knowledge to confirm it. But Narcissa…she knew. The realisation was enough to make her knees weak.

"One of Greyback's old toys," Lucius commented. "And, I hear, an old friend of James Potter."

Her head snapped up. "How long have you known?"

"Known what?"

"That our son was being taught by a werewolf," she responded, hoping the venom in her voice would be enough to deter suspicion. "Honestly, how we can expect to trust Dumbledore with our children…"

"Unfortunately, the source of my information would have put me in a precarious situation had I intervened."

"I see."

But Narcissa's mind was reeling. All those years ago in Hogwarts' Hospital Wing, he must have been a werewolf. He'd been in his second year, she remembered. Just a year younger than her son was now… The thought made her shudder.

"No matter," Lucius continued. "It seems Professor Lupin will not be returning next year."

"Yes…" Narcissa responded, slow and steady. "Thank goodness for that."


1998


Several years later—after the war was over and one well placed lie had saved her family's skin—the penny finally dropped. She stared, eyes wide at the Daily Prophet. Remus Lupin had married her niece. Remus Lupin had had a child with her niece.

It made her heart clench, though she wasn't sure why. How could she be plagued by such an old memory? Such a fleeting interaction? Why did the image of a frail teenager in the bed next to her haunt her like this? It seemed inconceivable that she would think more about him in death than she ever had when he'd been alive.

"I'm going for a flight."

Draco gaped up at his mother. "A flight? With a broom? Mother, I didn't even know you could fly."

"Don't tell me you thought you got your flying abilities from your father."

It was enough to stun her son into silence. She turned, her skirts billowing as she moved, and collected her old broom from a forgotten closet. It had none of the bells and whistles that her son's broom did, but the weight of it in her hand was familiar and filled her with warmth. It would do.

"Be careful," Lucius said. At her lack of response, he glanced up, his eyes catching hers. "Promise?"

And not for the first time, Narcissa wondered if Lucius had truly come to care for her in the same way she had come to care for him.


Number 12 Grimmauld Place wasn't quite as she remembered it. There was a time, she was sure, when the dark halls had felt like a second home to her. But now, hovering on the doorstep, she was sure that she did not belong. She could feel the doors and walls whispering to her, telling her to run.

"Mr Potter."

"Mrs Malfoy." If Harry was surprised to find her there, he didn't show it. "How can I help you?"

"I heard there was a new member of the Black family," she said. "I hoped to meet him."

"He isn't a Black," Harry said, wary. Now, standing closer to him, she could see the dark circles under his eyes—a sure sign that he had been caring for the child. "He's a Lupin. A Tonks, even."

Narcissa shook her head. "And I suppose you think he can't be all at once?"

"I supposed that you would prefer that he wasn't all at once," he responded, sharp. But he relented, stepping to one side and allowing her to enter. "He's asleep at the moment, but you can see him."

She followed him down the once familiar halls. Many of the portraits, she noted, had disappeared. But she had no time to ponder where they might have gone, when Harry came to stop in a room that, given the crimson tapestries adorning the walls, she guessed was once the bedroom of Sirius. Immediately, she walked towards the crib in the corner of the room.

"Your timing is convenient. The afternoon after a full moon." Harry cocked an eyebrow at her. "Teddy doesn't have his father's affliction. Although, he does seem to have his mother's shape-shifting talents."

"Teddy," Narcissa said quietly. "After his grandfather?"

"Yeah."

"I would like to see him again," she said.

"Truly, Mrs Malfoy. I have no objections. But you'll have to ask your sister if you want to spend more time with him.." He almost looked sorry for her. "She's very...uh, protective."

"But you are his guardian."

"His guardian who respects his grandmother's wishes."

"Of course."

Already mentally scribing the letter she'd have to send to her sister, Narcissa looked down at the sleeping baby. If she was brave—and she knew that she wasn't—she would've reached out, let her fingers graze his face. She wondered if his eyes might open—if they might pierce into her the same way his father's once had.

"Teddy Lupin," she said. The name alone felt like a prayer. "Perhaps one day I could teach him to fly."

"To fly? What are you—"

"I'll write to my sister at once," Narcissa interrupted. "Thank you, Mr Potter, for indulging me this visit."

"Uh. Okay."

Much to her relief, he did not accompany her to the door. And as she stepped into the cool London air, she felt sure that all was well. The Black, Tonks, and Lupin names were forever intertwined. And the thought of it—of something that once would have made her stomach lurch in disgust—did nothing but make her want to fly.