Narcissa walked into the empty darkness of Charles House with an uncomfortable lump in her throat. Any remainder of its previous life and vibrancy had all but disappeared, leaving behind upturned furniture and a thick layer of dust after her father's passing. Druella had packed up and left barely a day after her husband's death, taking refuge in one of the family's vacation homes in France and leaving the ancestral Black home behind without sparing it a second thought.
At present, Druella was temporarily back in London for the trial of her eldest daughter. Narcissa could not bring herself to attend, not even for Bellatrix's sake. She feared what seeing her sister, bound in chains as she had seen Lucius, would do with what little resolve she had left. It was a risk she was not willing to take, not after her own family's escape had been so marginally avoided – by the skin of their teeth, without a shadow of a doubt.
She had come with the intention of speaking to her father's portrait. Many nights she had waited by the empty silver frame, seeking his advice and comforting words. She had yet to be successful.
"I knew I'd find you here." came a voice from the other end of the room, coupled with the sudden lighting of several candles scattered on the dusty floorboards.
Narcissa whirled to face the intruder head on, wand at the ready in the blink of an eye.
Druella sat at a plush high-backed chair, her dark gaze gleaming with severity in the flickering shadows.
"I see you have finally learned to be ready. I suppose Bellatrix's lessons sunk deeper than I originally thought" she drawled, unfazed by the wand pointed in her direction. "Oh, well, better late than never, isn't it so?"
Narcissa scowled at her mother. She had never been Druella's favourite – the very opposite, in fact, and after spending so many of her younger years desperately trying to gain her mother's approval to no avail, she had finally stopped trying.
"What are you doing here?" her words were as acerbic as she could make them.
"Don't be insolent; this house still belongs to me." Druella said coolly. "But I suppose I could ask the same of you. Does your sister not deserve the same courtesy you afforded your deplorable husband?"
Narcissa's eyes narrowed. "You're one to talk, mother. I would have guessed the great Druella Black would have taken the opportunity to see her only daughter one last time" she retorted, never lowering her wand.
"My only daughter?" Druella scoffed disdainfully. "Listen to yourself. Only daughter indeed – you always had an unbecoming penchant for dramatics. Poor little Narcissa, so pure, so easily hurt. Apple of your father's eye, so wounded not to be somebody's darling."
Druella stood, her commanding presence seemed to fill the room.
"It would have been better, I think, had you died at birth. I will admit the thought crossed my mind, when you were naught but a snivelling infant."
The nefarious admission from her mother had no effect on Narcissa, who had been expertly trained in hiding and burying her emotions by the very woman standing before her now. She wasn't called the Ice Queen for nothing.
"Now that" Druella said venomously, smirking with a sadistic pleasure as she took in her daughter's frozen, schooled features. "That makes it marginally easier for me to love you."
Narcissa wanted to laugh with incredulity. Never, in all of her life, had her mother ever told her she loved her.
"How dreadfully sentimental" she drawled instead. "Care to explain what you are doing here? Why are you not at the trial?"
Druella's eyes turned cold, as if reminding Narcissa where her Ice Queen fame had come from. "There is nothing I can do for Bellatrix. She made her bed, let her lie in it and rot" the Black matriarch murmured, her voice icier than her gaze had been. "In a way, I suppose I ought to congratulate you" she said, as if it pained her.
"I'm afraid I don't follow."
Druella rolled her eyes, much in the same way a petulant, impatient child would. "Do not play the fool, though I believe the part may come a little too easily to you" she hissed. "I'm speaking of your little stunt; of what you did to keep your disgraceful husband out of Azkaban."
Narcissa's façade cracked for the first time. Druella chuckled darkly in triumph, lips tugging into a malicious smile.
"I must admit, I didn't think you'd have the guts – or the skills. Honestly, I thought you had whored your way through the Wizengamot or something more to your nature."
Narcissa made the mistake of bristling at the statement; her mother's shark-like grin widened. "But memory manipulation? The Imperius? I didn't think you were witch enough." Druella laughed viciously. "Who knew you even possessed the ability?"
Narcissa took a breath, schooling her features once again. "You forget I was top of my class." she said, unable to keep silent when her ability, her own wizardry was called into question.
Druella only chuckled in her face. "Ah, there's that foolish pride you are so notorious for. A grievously Gryffindor trait, most unbecoming. Not the most pleasant sort to be around."
Narcissa straightened. "What do you want, mother?"
Druella rolled her eyes, as if dissatisfied Narcissa was unwilling to continue their verbal sparring. She turned and gracefully sunk back into the chair she had occupied.
"I'll get straight to the point" she said. A lazy move of her hand summoned a golden cigarette box. She took her time lighting one and taking a long, pensive drag, letting the thick purple smoke it released linger in the air for a few moments. After a long, pregnant silence, she turned to face her youngest.
"What you did to Lucius... What does he remember?" she asked, discreetly waving her wand around to summon another chair. It came screeching onto the wood and leaving a mark of its path upon the dust. Narcissa did not sit.
"Most of it" she said, regarding her mother cautiously. "He simply feels that the memories are not his own, or they are murky, unclear" she explained, ignoring the smell of the smoke her mother seemed to be deliberately – though discreetly – puffing her way.
"Murky and unclear?" Druella repeated, her gaze belying her interest. "As if he had been actually Imperiused?"
"Yes" Narcissa confirmed, letting out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. "I designed the spell to mimic the after-effects of the curse. That way..." she swallowed, having difficulty in admitting it out loud for the first time, to her mother of all people. Not even Lucius knew what had been done to him – it was imperative to maintain plausible deniability at all costs. No one thought to question her too thoroughly – she was viewed only a pure-blooded housewife, a little trophy for the big bad Death Eater, and she strived to keep it that way.
"That way he would not be lying, not even under the influence of Veritaserum" Druella completed for her, as if reading her line of thought. She took one long drag of her cigarette, releasing the smoke through her nostrils as her gaze turned pensive.
"Remarkable" she finally whispered, so low Narcissa wasn't sure she meant to say it at all. Narcissa struggled to conceal her surprise – it was the closest thing to praise she had ever gotten from Druella her entire life.
The Black widow pondered for long moments, the purple smoke hanging in the air, making it thick.
"And Bellatrix?" she finally demanded, after an eternity had passed.
"What about Bellatrix?" Narcissa asked sincerely. As her mother had said, there was nothing that could be done for her.
Druella rolled her eyes once more. "Surely you could give her the same opportunity you gave Lucius."
Narcissa stiffened. "He's my husband, the father of my child." She said. What happened to 'she made her bed, let her lie in it and rot', she wondered.
Her mother scoffed imperiously. "And she is your sister, blood of your blood. You would do well not to forget that."
"I was born a Black, but I am a Malfoy now. There is nothing I can do to help Bellatrix – she is too far gone. It makes no difference that she is my sister – the Bellatrix I once knew is dead." Narcissa retorted solemnly.
Druella scoffed again, her features marred with utter disdain.
"Listen to yourself speak... 'I am a Malfoy now...' It is just like you, with your flighty, inconstant nature, your wavering loyalty."
Narcissa's eyes directed all the anger she held within her toward her mother; Druella seemed not to notice or care.
"I have a family of my own now. I will stop at nothing to protect them," she murmured.
"Once a Black, always a Black" her mother retorted, and Narcissa wanted to scoff, wondering if that logic applied to people such as Andromeda and Sirius. "Don't forget why you're a Malfoy, Narcissa. It is the result of your own pettiness, your own childish impetuousness. Remember that, when your little world crumbles to pieces around you."
Narcissa bristled. "What is that supposed to mean?" she questioned hotly.
"Save it, child. We both know you only married that pompous fool out of an infantile desire to displease me."
"That is the most absurd..."
"The truth is often absurd" Druella interjected, that malicious grin returning. "Sure, you fancied one another; but then again, you fancied so many other young men, and so many fancied you. Merlin and the world know how Lucius fancied plenty of other young women, especially after he graduated."
"You lie." Narcissa hissed through gritted teeth. She and Lucius had been in love; he had come to visit her in Hogsmeade every weekend without fail after he graduated. He had written her every single day. "We love each other."
"Oh, surely you cannot be this naïve" Druella let out a disbelieving laugh. "You think Lucius would wait patiently for his little supposedly virginal betrothed to graduate without cavorting around with other, less respectable girls while he still had the chance?" she shook her head.
"He fancied you, alright, but that didn't stop him from fooling around with other girls before his marriage. Face it, Narcissa, he only married you because he knew you'd be the best match he could ever possibly have" she said, clearly taking a sadistic delight in breaking the news to her daughter. "And how could you not be? You were very well trained, if I do say so myself. I will take all the credit for that."
Narcissa was painfully aware her Ice Queen façade had long crumbled. Her nails dug bloody crescent shapes into her own palms, and she felt the heat of errant tears running down her cheeks. Druella could see the effect her words had on her youngest, and seemed all the more satisfied for it.
The Black matriarch stood, discarding her cigarette onto the floor and stepping on it with a decisive heel before walking towards her daughter. Her venomous smile was impossibly wider as she patronizingly patted Narcissa's cheek, barely gentler than a slap but so much more violent in intention.
"Oh, don't look quite so shaken, darling" she laughed, contempt dripping from her every word. "You still married the man of your dreams." Her voice was at its most demeaning as she continued. "Even though I pushed against it, for your own good. Even when Geoffrey Flint gave your father an incredible offer, that fool could never say no to you. He settled for the Malfoys solely because you already had."
After another long moment, Druella began to look impatient at the silent tears streaming down Narcissa's pale cheeks. She roughly brushed them away. "Come, now; such weakness is deplorable and undignified" she scolded bitterly.
"Yes, Ma'am" Narcissa said before she could help herself, hating how her brain reverted itself to the reflexive instincts she retained after a lifetime of such lessons with Druella. She gazed at her mother with pure hatred. "Why were you always so cruel?" she murmured through her tears, uncaring for the loss of dignity and feeling more like a lost child than she had ever felt. "Why could you never love me?"
Druella chuckled with intense disdain.
"Oh, darling, I have always loved you" she mocked, giving Narcissa's cheek a sharp pinch and stepping closer, looking absolutely triumphant. "But I have also always despised you."
Her mother began to slowly walk away, stopping only to pat Narcissa's shoulder condescendingly on her way out.
"Oh, before I forget" she suddenly quipped evilly. She reached into her robes, and then there was an abrupt, violent thud of an object hitting the floorboards. By Narcissa's feet now sat a silver locket, decorated with silver filigree and a single shard of the blackest obsidian.
"Your father wanted you to have this when he died" Druella said airily as she walked away. "It must have slipped my mind."
The sun and warmth that came with the spring's belated arrival seemed to be unable to touch Hermione. It was like a dark cloud had formed upon whatever space she inhabited, determined to follow her no matter where she went.
The cloud came with guilt, longing, and so much confusion over what happened the night she came nearly beating down Narcissa's door. Over the months they had worked together, the blonde had not shied away from the personal – the first breakthrough in that tentative friendship they had begun to cultivate in Autumn had come from facing their mutual nightmares over a batch of Wideye Potion, under the light of the full moon.
Since then, their friendship had evolved through academic discussion and the periodical breaking of several walls when it came to personal. Life before Voldemort, life after Voldemort. Narcissa's family, Hermione's family. Hermione's grief, Narcissa's grief. And now, suddenly, there was a wall Narcissa seemed unwilling to break.
Not that Hermione wanted to push it, if the Slytherin was truly that uncomfortable. She just wanted to know why. Why was it so different from all the other deeply personal subjects they had discussed? How could something as good and extraordinary as restoring her parents' memories be so taboo, when crying over a crazy murderer in Hermione's arms wasn't?
Hermione blew an exasperated breath as she walked aimlessly through the castle. It was nearly empty because of the holiday, but she didn't want to go outside in her usual walk around the Black Lake. The shining sun was grating on her mood – all she wanted right then and there was for some temperamental Scottish weather to come her way. She wanted rain, cold, and fog, because that would go just wonderfully with how she felt inside.
It would have been easier if Narcissa had been avoiding her, like she did when there was any uncertainty between them. Instead, the Slytherin Head of House was as cordial as ever, taking time to talk to Hermione during meals at the Staff Table, accompanying her to Black Manor for further research, and even joking with her about all the grading they'd have to do once students returned for break.
Hermione hated it.
It was all perfectly cordial and nothing more. Whatever timid intimacy there had been between them was out the window – Narcissa was polite, annoyingly so. Polite, tactful, poised and irritatingly impersonal.
The Gryffindor briefly wondered if her newly-discovered attraction to the other woman might be clouding her judgement. She pondered the thought as her feet guided her up the winding stairs to the Astronomy Tower, and by the time she reached the peak, she had dismissed the idea entirely.
No, Narcissa was definitively different around her. Her quest for answers had led her to a land of unending, impersonal cordiality and it frustrated Hermione to no end, because she couldn't understand it.
She wanted to get to know Narcissa better. Why was the blonde so willing to share stories about Bellatrix, about her family's dark past, but not those about the good work she had been doing for the past decade? The extraordinary things she did to atone?
Hermione leaned over the railings of the Astronomy Tower's balcony, deep in thought, for hours. The sun began to set, painting the skies in pink and purple hues, daubing the turbulent waters of the Black Lake with fractals of light that glittered in her vision.
It was so beautifully vibrant, yet so agonizingly monotonous.
The sky became dark and dotted with stars; the full moon shone brightly upon the hallowed grounds of Hermione's alma mater, and she still remained at the Tower, feeling foolish for sulking, but unable to direct her emotions elsewhere.
"You weren't at dinner." Came a voice from behind, tentative with that insistent, practiced affability Hermione had come to hate over the past few days.
She didn't want to turn to greet Narcissa, not if the blonde continued with the rehearsed cordiality, but her body had a mind of its own, spinning in place to face the Slytherin.
"No," Hermione began, looking anywhere but at Narcissa's blue eyes, because those were what most disarmed her, every time the other witch was around. "I just wanted to think for a while."
Narcissa looked demure in the shadows of the tower. Despite the darkness, Hermione could tell her hair was up in an unusual high ponytail, yet it still cascaded tantalizingly down her back. A few unbound tendrils framed her face, pale as the moon above.
"May I join you?" she inquired, teeth nipping at her bottom lip in a display of uncertainty that had become more frequent, one that endeared her greatly to the young Gryffindor.
"Of course." Hermione responded automatically, even if deep inside she felt she could use another hour or several of solitude.
Narcissa stepped to the balcony, standing at a fair distance from Hermione, enough that even her arms outstretched at her sides on the railing did not come near the brunette. Hermione could only sigh deeply, looking over at the dark splotch that was the Black Lake.
"Leo seems to be unusually bright tonight." Narcissa spoke, after long moments of utter silence.
Part of Hermione was annoyed at the attempt at small talk, feeling she deserved better. But another part felt that familiar warmth make itself present in her chest. Despite the mundane statement, that was the first time in days that Narcissa had said something that didn't feel practiced.
Her eyes went up to the sea of stars, easily identifying the lion constellation in the sky. Indeed, Leo was unusually bright and clear, roaring into the universe. Something in her felt that Narcissa was trying to say something beyond the banal conversation starter.
"Yes," she agreed, eyes scanning the starry night sky. "The one I can't quite see is Hydra." It was a lie – she could name all the constellations she had studied in this very tower.
Narcissa chuckled, and from the corner of her eye Hermione could see the other witch's eyes gleaming. "Not surprising," she quipped, stepping just barely closer to Hermione. She raised her hand, as if she could reach and trace the constellation's pattern on the sky itself. "Despite being the largest of Ptolemy's constellations, its only notably bright star is Alphard."
Hermione followed Narcissa's delicate finger as it traced the stars, trailing the starry pattern she already knew.
"Hydra reminds me of my own family" Narcissa said after identifying the constellation. She chuckled appreciatively "family names aside." She leaned over the railing with a wistful look in her eyes.
"How so?" Hermione found herself asking, turning ever so slightly and dusting her fingertips over the rail, as if subconsciously moving closer.
"Big, ancient, and important" Narcissa said playfully, but her look remained pensive. "Not to mention lacklustre despite its grandeur, save a few exceptions."
The statement puzzled Hermione. Narcissa turned to look at her, and the brunette's confusion made her smile. "In the Black's long, winding, serpentine family tree, there are very few notable bright stars." She said. "I see them as blackened burnt spots on a tapestry, but they're the brightest and most illuminating in a long line of unpleasantness."
Hermione sighed, turning to face Narcissa more directly. She had taken another step in the blonde's direction; she had but to stretch her hand to touch Narcissa's arm, which rested upon the railing.
"I am not one of them." Narcissa suddenly said, taking Hermione by surprise.
"I beg to differ" the brunette responded truthfully. "I think you have more than earned having your head blasted off your own family tree" she finished lamely.
Narcissa laughed, and the sound was like music; it inflated Hermione's chest with fondness and heat.
"I'm serious" she reasoned, feeling a smile beginning to tug at her lips. "Look at what you've done, Narcissa. To my parents, to Black Manor. To me."
Narcissa's expression sobered, and she eyed Hermione with uncertainty for a moment. Her head hung down after a soft sigh escaped her lips.
"I think not, Hermione."
"Why?" Hermione questioned, taking the plunge and reaching out to touch Narcissa's arm. Narcissa trembled at her tentative touch, but the Slytherin did not budge. Instead, her hand came to rest atop Hermione's, brushing timid patterns upon her knuckles. "I don't want to push you" the brunette added as an afterthought, "but I... I want to get to know you better, Narcissa."
Narcissa's hand stilled for a brief moment. She smiled, albeit a little sadly. "You already know me far better than most."
Hermione could sense the truth to that statement, but she also knew deep down that it wasn't all there was to it. To this. Whatever this was.
"And I'm thankful for that," she said sincerely. Who would have thought she'd find herself getting so close to Narcissa Black? The Hermione from ten years ago would have scoffed at the preposterous notion. "But... I've come to know you as a wonderful, intelligent, complex woman, Narcissa" Hermione began, unsure where this bout of confidence was coming from. "You just... captivate me."
"Hermione," Narcissa breathed out, grasping the brunette's hand a little more tightly and looking a little exasperated, out of her depth "There's so much you don't know about me."
"I'd like to learn" Hermione confessed. "If you'll let me."
"I'm afraid it's not that simple" Narcissa admitted with a pained look. She straightened. "May I confess something?"
"Yes." Hermione blurted, the sound of her own blood being pumped through her veins deafening in her ears.
"I am a selfish, awful woman" Narcissa asserted, waving off Hermione's immediate protestations with another squeeze of her hand. "I never expected you to be so... kind to me. But you were, you still are, and I came to greatly enjoy your company. I don't deserve your kindness or your sympathy, and yet you give them so freely, so earnestly. I can't help but take them, greedily."
"If I give them so freely" Hermione started, her Gryffindor bravery bringing her other hand to rest upon the junction between Narcissa's neck and shoulder, feeling the shiver the touch elicited in the soft gasp that left Narcissa's throat "how can you be selfish in accepting them?"
Hermione felt Narcissa swallow under her touch, her breath shallower than it had been.
"Because," she began again, and her eyes glimmered with unshed tears, "if you knew all there is to know about me, you wouldn't. I choose to take your kindness and compassion precisely because I know I am most undeserving."
Hermione looked so deeply into Narcissa's eyes she wondered if she would drown in their tempestuous depths. Her gaze lowered to Narcissa's rosy lips, and she felt the other woman's heartbeat in her hand. She felt her stomach do summersaults and her throat go dry, and at once realized there was one moment, one single opportunity to do the unthinkable and bring her lips to Narcissa's.
She had to let it pass.
"Can you let me decide for myself?" She pleaded, battling her own desire. "Please?"
Narcissa looked uncertain, and Hermione had to ask herself if the other witch had felt the charge of the moment pass through them like a whip of lightning.
"I don't know" Narcissa confessed, sounding so fragile Hermione felt a protective surge rush through her body, wanting to hold her close. "I'm not sure I'll be able."
Hermione smiled, gently tilting Narcissa's chin upwards. "You'll just have to trust me."
