Narcissa didn't know how long she'd wandered aimlessly along the lake's shore, but by the time she surfaced from the depths of her despair enough to notice that it was dark, she was frozen through and soaked from the rain, not just her tears. She'd cried herself out; now only dry, heaving sobs would come, and she felt like she might be sick thinking of her sister, of what she'd done.
Narcissa slumped down hard on a large rock and looked out over the water stretching endlessly into the night. Darkness settled over her like a heavy cloak. Andromeda was lost to her, and Narcissa didn't know how she could ever feel whole again.
The water lapped at her feet, pulled at the hem of her cloak. She was cold, so cold that the sensation had reversed itself to a slow burn that was creeping up through her arms and legs towards her heart. Her fingers and toes were numb already. Narcissa welcomed the feeling. If she could be numb all over, become as hard and cold as ice, maybe she would stop hurting; maybe then she could be indifferent like Andromeda was, uncaring about her sister and blissfully alone.
It wasn't even that Andromeda fancied herself in love with a Muggle that disturbed Narcissa; that was a whim, a lapse of judgment that could be forgiven if Andromeda would only repent. That she didn't, no, that she'd act on a passing fancy in spite of all that she stood to lose was a monstrous betrayal. No man could love her any better than her own sister did, and especially not a Muggle. What did he know of Andromeda, of her world? Andra belonged with her family, and Narcissa didn't understand how her sister could deny that, could hurt her when Narcissa loved her so dearly.
She thought of their parents and Bellatrix, whom she'd have to face before long over the spring holiday. Their mother would be beside herself until her trusty poppy seeds took the edge off her suffering. If Narcissa was lucky, mother wouldn't leave her bedroom for weeks. Her father would lock himself in his study, not to be disturbed, leaving his daughters to weather the storm of outrage. But it was Bellatrix she worried most about, her other…only sister, who would prowl the halls like a caged panther, roaring her fury. That was the home Narcissa was to go back to when summoned, and permanently after school ended. She could hardly stand the thought. If Andromeda had wanted out, fine, but how could she forget her little sister? How could she leave Narcissa behind?
Shivering, Narcissa stood, her feet sinking into the soft, wet ground. She was alone. She would always be alone from here on out. She staggered with the thought, into the water that felt almost warm on her frozen skin now. "As above, so below," she whispered, feeling the current pull at her. The world as she knew it was shaken to its core, and Narcissa felt the tremor in every fibre of her being. It hurt so much; she only wanted it to stop. Her robes were heavy, swirling in the water. It would be so easy to let go, be sucked underneath the surface and burn up, burn out, without anyone ever knowing.
It would be so easy…
"Oh, honestly. If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?" a voice suddenly said behind her. "Or, if a Black drowns herself and no one is watching, will she even die?"
Narcissa shuddered with the cold and sudden trepidation. The water gurgled around her legs, the soft, muddy ground opening up to envelop her feet and pull her in, deeper, deeper. A few moments more and she wouldn't be able to get out, not without magic, and her fingers were frozen stiff around her wand. Let go or pull back; she had to make her choice, she couldn't wait until it was too late and depend on him to pull her out. But she couldn't kill herself now either, not in front of him. It was just too pathetic, and besides, it would seem like admitting defeat. It was defeat, but she didn't mind so much as long as no one saw her.
But now he was here, and when she turned her head, she found him watching her with eyes as pale and frosty as the ice around her, and she felt her body grow hot in spite of the cold water. She didn't want him to be the one who'd fish her corpse from the lake. Who knew what she'd end up looking like.
"I'm not going to rescue you, so if you do this, be sure you really want to die," he drawled in as bored a voice as if they were discussing homework.
"I don't." She snapped her teeth shut tightly to keep them from chattering, unsure whether it was true or not. "Of course not."
He didn't ask why she was in the lake then. Narcissa supposed that was him being merciful, and she clenched her jaw to keep from screaming or, worse, crying again.
"Good," Lucius said, "Because that would be stupid. And you're not, usually."
"Why, thank you," she forced out, but she was shaking too much now to even talk. She raised her wand, dreamlike heavy, and cast a shimmering, translucent strand of magic to anchor herself at the shore, pull herself out. She could barely move her legs. Her shoes squelched unpleasantly as she staggered on to firm ground at last, muddy and frozen through. Her clothes were ruined. Everything was ruined.
Lucius looked her over with a raised eyebrow, but made no comment as to her appearance. "Well, if you're not going to kill yourself, I suggest you come inside."
"Why?" She wrapped her arms around herself against the cold and the onslaught of his smirk. She couldn't deal with his mockery, not today, or maybe not ever again. How could there be jokes or laughter or playful banter when everything in her was shattered and cold?
"Aside from the fact that it's bloody freezing?" He rolled his eyes. "People are talking."
She didn't need to ask about what. Her stomach lurched with a sick feeling of grief and revulsion. She glanced at Lucius, who stood, hands buried in his pockets, returning her look with an unreadable expression on his face. He knew, she thought, wondering why he had still come. To hear first hand, perhaps, what shame had befallen the Blacks.
"They will talk whether I'm there or not." There was nothing she could do about that, nothing she could do to restore her family's good name. She had never felt so helpless.
"Most of them wouldn't dare say anything to your face. You have to make an appearance. Don't give them the satisfaction of hiding in shame."
She shook her head wildly. "I can't go back, Violet will be waiting with her knives sharpened-"
"You're not scared of her, surely," he snorted.
"Well, tonight I am!" Her hands trembling, she cast a charm to dry and clean herself, then a spell for warmth, but she couldn't stop shaking.
Lucius stepped forward and firmly grasped her upper arms, locking her in his hold and a look that wasn't exactly kind, but not unfriendly either. His hands were warm and there was something reassuring in the firm grip he had on her arms, like Narcissa could come apart and he would still hold her up with no effort required of her. She looked back at him tiredly, wondering why he bothered, and how long it would be until he grew bored of supporting her.
"Why are you here when you could be in there with the others, laughing at me?"
"I'm planning to exploit your moment of vulnerability, obviously." He shook her lightly. "Can we go inside? You've had enough fresh air for today, I think."
Narcissa sighed. "I want to be alone."
"Do you really?"
She could feel herself crumbling bit by bit, and she didn't want company if she had to keep her guard up. More tears were choking her up, and she'd rather let them fall in solitude, but Malfoy didn't seem to be out to tease her for once.
"That blood traitor is not worth it, you know," he said when the first tear spilled over.
Shocked, she looked up to meet his eyes. "Don't… We must not speak of her."
"Yes, we must, if you're going to do stupid things because of her." He looked her over once and shook his head. "I never thought I'd see the day when you let yourself go like this."
She blushed hotly. So she was completely disheveled, but he was being insufferably rude. "Ever so charming, Malfoy."
"If coddling is what you want, I'm not the right person to talk to," he replied curtly.
"I didn't ask you to come down here." She shook off his hands and took some steps up along the winding path to the castle if only to put some distance between them. Rain was coming down heavily, soaking the land through until it seemed they would all drown in mud. Narcissa gasped in the damp air that curled the ends of her hair and made her school uniform cling to her skin. She smoothed her hands over the stained fabric and tried to will away the tears that were rolling down her cheeks to make her humiliation complete.
"Don't you think you're being overdramatic?" came Lucius's voice from behind her.
"Am I?" Narcissa couldn't stop the tears any more than she could stop the rain from falling. Lightning struck overhead, closely followed by the rumble of thunder.
"Yes." She could tell he was closing in on her, could sense his presence at her back. "Why do you wallow in misery that is not your own?"
"It is my own. She is...was my sister." Kind-hearted Andromeda would've pitied her now, would've consoled her when Narcissa came crying like a child, but then again, if not for Andromeda, there would've been no reason to cry.
"What she's doing is madness, but she made her choice. Don't cry for her."
He would not understand grieving for a childhood lost, for a siblings' bond he had never known. Andromeda should've known this grief, but she was happy, she was with the man she loved, and Narcissa had no more tears to shed for her.
Their family would be dragged through the mud. Their parents would be heartbroken. And neither of the two remaining Black sisters would be fit for polite society now; in her selfishness, Andromeda had seen to that. Bellatrix probably didn't care. Narcissa did.
Lucius was her friend, and she believed that his regard for her was genuine, or it had been anyway, but she did not trust that it would overrule his sensible judgment any time soon. He was showing her a kindness that was unlike him today, but to what purpose he was acting, Narcissa didn't know. Still, there had to be a purpose, and she felt ill prepared for it, raw with her grief and vulnerable with the need to keep his respect. If her family's name didn't command it, all she had to recommend her was her beauty and her talents, and she didn't quite know if that would be enough for anyone, and especially for him who had so little time for those he saw as beneath him.
"Dear merciful gods, witch, would you stop blubbering!"
He hated outbursts of emotion; she'd make him angry, spoiling any attempt they might have made at reasonable conversation, but she couldn't help herself. He was her only friend outside of the sycophants who would now turn their backs on her, the only one who'd never had anything to gain by associating with her, and she felt it keenly now that she was about to lose him. She could not trust her own flesh and blood not to betray her, so how could she trust him? "Don't mock me! I assure you I feel quite awful enough already."
"Clearly." He'd caught up with her; his lip curled with distaste as he took in her blotchy face, the tremble of her chin. With a sharp jerk of his wrist, he produced a pristine handkerchief from seemingly out of nowhere and pressed it into her hand. Narcissa absently wondered at the perfect handkerchief when his charmwork was usually so sloppy, but apparently, Lucius knew how to put care into things if he wanted to. "There. Now calm down, self-pity is extremely unattractive."
"What do I care?" she sniffled, hiding her face in the fine white cloth. It smelled of boy, of him: expensive soap, broom wax, the faint sulfuric residue of curses, and something that she didn't know how to define, but could have picked out of a hundred scents.
"The others are sitting downstairs proclaiming the downfall of the Black family. I didn't believe you'd give them the satisfaction of being proven right, but perhaps I was wrong." He tugged a little too hard at a stray curl that fell in her face. "Show them! It's a cold day in hell when you don't care how you look, Cissy."
She raised her head defiantly, but then she saw that he was smiling. Taken aback, she shifted from one foot to the other, suddenly feeling exposed without the armor of her flawless beauty. "What am I supposed to do? Everything is ruined. No one will want to be friends with me anymore, I can't even look at them-"
"You're being silly." For a few moments he stared at her, the smile vanishing as quickly as it had come. "I'm not 'no one', am I."
"No, but you're too smart for this," she forced out, peering at him over the edge of his handkerchief. "Associating with me is not smart now."
"It never was smart to begin with. Except for the benefit of your Potions expertise, I suppose." He was so close that she had to tilt her head back to look at him. He tipped her chin up and rubbed at the pink spot on one cheek with his thumb. Her skin burned under his touch. "One of your foolish sisters always was going to do something completely crazy, and if they didn't, it would've been one of your cousins."
"So why are you here?" she asked tiredly.
"I haven't been brought up to deny myself." He was smiling that mercurial smile again, and Narcissa shivered, never knowing what he'd do next, never certain whether she liked that or not.
In spite of herself, she had to smile back. "And what is it you're not denying yourself?"
This time, it was he who leaned in for the kiss, and Narcissa felt powerless to resist anymore. It seemed quite pointless to fight this when she had wanted it for so long, when it was the only thing in the world that could make her heavy heart pick up its steady beat again. This was nothing like the quick peck she had allowed herself earlier under the ruse of a curse; it was slow and deliberate, like he was making a point of not fabricating a half-hearted excuse of it later, and Narcissa rose on her tiptoes to meet the unspoken challenge, her fingers curling into his shirt.
She'd snogged quite a few boys before, but that had been almost analytical, set up with all the care with which she conducted her Potions experiments. She'd been pleased enough with the outcome most times, but once she felt she'd learned enough, she'd moved on to the next willing participant of her informal study. With Lucius, it was different. She could feel his smirk against her lips as he angled his head to deepen the kiss, outline with her tongue the shape of his mouth that was so uniquely him, and felt a shiver start at the base of her skull and race all the way down into her toes. Everything she'd experienced before had simply been a means to pass the time until this perfect moment, and it tasted all the sweeter for the bitter pill she'd had to swallow before.
Narcissa pushed the thought away. If there was nothing she could do to force the world around her to bend to her will, she could at least have this: Lucius bent to no one either, but in clinging to him, she felt less adrift in the currents that would pull her under. She was blind in the darkness that her name heralded and that was the curse of the Blacks, but he was named for the light and so he appeared to her just then. She'd almost succumbed to the madness that slumbered deep inside today, would have if not for him. Why he was so intent to save her, she did not know, but it hardly mattered. It only mattered that he was here now, his arms coming around her back to hold her to him, anchoring her to safe shore.
He made to move back, but she clutched at his shirt, unable to let go yet and face reality. It would set in as soon as she left the circle of his arms, and she knew Lucius was not one to prop up others for any length of time. Before long, she'd have to stand on her own feet again, face the secret whispers and outright jokes, but not yet, not yet. They'd have to come up for air eventually, but it was better to drown herself in this than literally, as she'd almost done earlier.
Eventually, he broke away just enough to speak, but did not let go of her. "You know, for someone who professed only today to not be interested in snogging-"
"I lied, fine, is that what you wanted to hear?" she cut in with little grace. "Just get back to it."
Chuckling, he obliged, drawing her closer so she was half inside his cloak, which fell over her like a heavy blanket and warmed her more than any heating spell could. It was still raining, but Narcissa hardly felt it. Her gaze had turned inwards; there was nothing outside of this that wasn't cold and bleak. She sneaked her arms around his neck under his hood, fingers twining into the messy ponytail that he stubbornly kept growing in spite of all customs or fashion, and felt a twinge of fondness. They'd been friends for a long time, but this intimacy was new, and it was all terribly exciting. Still, there was a familiarity to it even in these first cautious, exploratory touches. Lucius kissed exactly like she'd expected him to: confidently, without any hesitation of propriety, and with a demanding slant to his mouth that was just a little rough. She absorbed all this, fitting herself against him as his hands strayed downwards from her waist to pull her closer. He settled them low on her hips, sort of patting down the fabric of her skirt, and she leaned back just an inch so she could raise her eyebrows at him.
"What are you doing?"
That infernal smirk was back. "I'd been wondering if you made those stockings stay up by way of magic or garters."
She bit back a smile, gratified that her efforts had not been in vain. Her charmwork was impeccable, but sometimes a simple solution worked best. "And is that newfound knowledge enriching to you?"
"Very."
She could feel that he was aroused, but that sort of reaction was hardly new to her. What was more surprising was that he did not let go of her even when they were not kissing, that he was still standing here with her soaking up the rain that was pouring down from the heavens. Neither of them moved; between them, they were warm enough.
"Is this a pity snog?" she asked at length, genuinely curious.
"Yes, Narcissa, it's a pity snog. Charity is my middle name, don't you know."
Narcissa made a mental note to address every piece of writing to him to 'Lucius C. Malfoy' from now on, and had to smile. "What are you even doing, Malfoy?"
"I thought that was obvious," he muttered, leaning in again to kiss at her neck.
She had to muster some effort to keep her voice even. "Spell it out for me."
"I'm giving our classmates something more interesting to talk about than your family's misfortunes," he smirked. "Your Muggle-loving sister is far away. We're right here, and they've had a betting pool on when we're going to snog for almost two years now."
She slapped him lightly across the chest. "You're making that up."
"No. I had Goyle put in ten Galleons for me at the start of term. I'll split it with you, and our classmates will whine and moan and forget all about Andromeda. Two birds, one stone. Actually, three birds, if you're counting personal satisfaction." He moved in to kiss her again, but she leaned back.
"Is all of this just a game to you?" she asked softly.
"Do you care?" he retorted.
Narcissa considered it and found that no, she didn't particularly care just then. He was offering to be her ready accomplice in distracting their school mates from a juicy scandal, and it really would take nothing less than the two of them throwing the combined weight of their names and reputations into this little affair to get Slytherin House to look away from what happened with the Black family elsewhere. That he was also a good kisser was a bonus, and even if she was used to her boyfriends being completely enamored with her, it was good enough that he was her friend; he was worth more to her as an ally than an infatuated fool. Besides, she thought as she moved closer again and felt his hands stroking up and down her sides, it wasn't all an act, no matter what he might pretend. He wanted her, she could feel it, and for the time being, it was enough. Who knew what the future would bring; at that moment, Narcissa only wanted to make it to tomorrow.
"How much is in the pool?" she asked, shoving aside the fear and heartache that lingered at the edges of her awareness in favour of more practical matters.
"I'm not sure. Something like a hundred Galleons."
Their classmates really were pathetic. "Is everyone in on this?"
"Probably."
"Fine." At least she could bleed all those blithering idiots dry. "We'll split it. Halves."
A slow expression of pure devilish delight came over Lucius's face that would've been terrifying to anyone else. "Goyle will want his payout, but after that's settled, we have a bargain."
Narcissa rolled her eyes at him. "You care far too much about gold, you know."
"No, not particularly. But I can't wait to see their faces when I collect the winnings; do you know, Violet Bulstrode is going to lose all of her pocket money."
Now that was a cheerful thought. "Let's go inside," she said quickly before she could start thinking too much about it. She made to start up the muddy path towards the castle again, but Lucius caught her hand.
"You are aware we will have to put up a demonstration?" he drawled, "You know, so they'll pay up?"
"That's the whole point, isn't it? Distraction?" Now that they were plotting the next steps, she suddenly felt tired. The warming charms had worn off, and she was cold, wet and utterly exhausted. She didn't think she had the fortitude to put up a show tonight, but if she must – and they wouldn't leave her much choice – she'd rather do it together with him than run the gauntlet alone. "Let's go so I can throw myself into the snake pit."
"You say that like you've something to be afraid of," he said, giving her a nudge to start the climb up to the school. "Please. You are the snake, not the mouse."
Nothing more was said until they got back to Slytherin House. People stared and whispered among themselves, but Lucius glared down his nose at them until the muttering ceased. He was still holding her hand, and that was causing as many looks as Narcissa's dirty clothes and windswept hair. Silence settled over the common room as all eyes turned to them.
Violet Bulstrode, of course, was the first one to come forward, dancing up to Narcissa positively glowing with delight. Narcissa was sure the other girl had no talents except sniffing out other people's shit, but that she excelled at. "Narcissa," she cooed, "There you are. We were beginning to fear you'd thrown yourself off the Astronomy Tower."
"I was out by the lake collecting bladderworts, but thank you for your concern." Narcissa tried hard to keep her shivering under control. Now that she was back inside, her frozen limbs were starting to burn with the shock of sudden warmth, and in spite of her cleaning charms, she felt itchy and dirty. All she wanted was a bath and some quiet, but no such luck.
Violet smiled, showing crooked teeth and malice. "Well. I hear congratulations are in order. Your sister got engaged, how…exciting!"
Narcissa braced herself and looked her housemate squarely in the eye. "What sister?" she said coldly.
"Sod off, we're busy," Lucius added, pulling Narcissa past the other girl and back towards the alcove where their Transfiguration essays were still waiting.
That took some of the wind out of Violet's sails. She trailed after them, looking back and forth between the pair with a hungry expression on her face. "Haven't you heard about her sister, Lucius? I'd think twice about associating with a Black now."
"I'm sure Narcissa will be heartbroken to lose you," he said dryly, and Narcissa had to bite back a smile.
"Completely," she supplied, affecting a ridiculous pout, and around the common room, people tittered.
Violet scowled. "She's beneath you in every way, Lucius."
He rounded on her, spinning Narcissa in a half circle that brought her up against his side. She braced herself against his chest with one hand, and he let his arm fall around her shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Only in my dreams," he drawled and, his glare fixed on Violet Bulstrode, kissed Narcissa firmly on the lips.
There was a second of charged silence before Goyle erupted, "Yes!" and the rest of the assembled students broke into nervous chatter.
Narcissa resurfaced to curious looks from them all and a hateful sneer from Violet, who turned on her heel and stalked out. Narcissa inclined her head towards her cousin Evan, who gave her a surprised shrug that seemed to say, whatever works, then fixed a pointed look on Goyle, who was effusively jubilating over, presumably, the winnings of his bet.
"That was easy," Lucius said close to her ear. He sounded smug, but she'd allow it; he was right, and he'd done her an enormous favour even if the whole thing worked out to mutual advantage. She turned to him, smoothing a strand of hair back behind his ear, and kissed him again just because she wanted to.
"It's not over," she whispered, only for him to hear. "This was only the beginning."
"Well, it's only a few months till the end of term. We can probably outsnog the gossipers."
And what then, Narcissa wondered, but she quickly clamped down on musings of the future. She would return home to a cold hearth, drawn curtains and family who were too wrapped up in their own misery to care about hers. Bellatrix answered to one master only, and Andromeda was gone. It would fall to Narcissa to play the dutiful daughter, tend to their mother and watch in helpless silence as her father gambled away her inheritance. But not today, not today. She was here now, in the House that had been more of a home to her than the one she'd been born in, and for now, she lived only for herself.
She should make the most of it.
Lucius was looking at her expectantly, waiting for a cue, and she turned her back on the curious onlookers in the common room and sat down in her customary place again as if nothing had interrupted their evening routine. "So, the essay. You know, I think I'll skip it just this once."
She composed a letter to her family instead in acknowledgement of their bad news, but with each stilted word that would placate her parents, the issue seemed further and further away. Narcissa had learned to keep her emotions well guarded around her supposed nearest and dearest, and when she immersed herself deeply enough into the role that was expected of her, she barely felt a twinge of heartache. She just wouldn't let herself dwell on it; strike it from her mind, if not her heart, and carry on until maybe one day, it wouldn't feel so terrible to even think Andromeda's name.
So she sealed the letter as well as the secret place inside her that held the feelings she did not dare pull out and examine. It was all too complicated, and it had already been a long day. She glanced sideways at Lucius, who'd actually sat down to write his essay in a rare show of compliance with the rules that never seemed to apply to him otherwise.
"Almost done?" she asked.
"Why?" He didn't look up from the scroll of parchment he was quickly filling with his barely legible handwriting, but his mouth curled at the corners. "Have you got any plans?"
"Maybe," she allowed, resting her chin in her hand as she watched him. Bone-deep fatigue was setting in, but she felt twitchy with restless energy nonetheless. She didn't know if it was a good idea to turn to Lucius for comfort beyond the distraction that their relationship provided for their classmates, but she was overwrought, and she'd rather go to bed later shivering with the aftershocks of his kisses than with cold dread. "I could do without an audience this time."
Smirking, he signed his essay with a flourish and threw down the quill. "Well. We never did finish dueling practice. Come on then, let's see who ends up on top."
Narcissa wondered if they were risking their friendship, but if she'd ever harboured romantic delusions about him, she didn't now, not after Andr—After what she had done for love. Narcissa was sure that she ran no risk of breaking his heart, and she felt far too cold and dead inside to ever bring herself to care for anyone again. No; this was going to be a pleasure arrangement, and if she could feel warm in his arms for ten minutes while he was kissing her, that was good enough for the moment.
Tomorrow would have to wait.