When I Was Sixteen
By Hekate101
Summary: "When I was sixteen, I was afraid. Afraid of living, afraid of dying, but rather more afraid of living, because that doom was more impending." Narcissa tells her son a story.
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"Did you know what I was when I was sixteen?" his mother asked, sitting down on the edge of his bed and smoothing the spread beside her.
"I'm seventeen," he answered automatically, mostly ignoring her, stacking books into his trunk.
"I know. …When I was sixteen, I was afraid. Afraid of living, afraid of dying, but rather more afraid of living, because that doom was more impending." He wanted to interrupt, ask why she was telling him this, but she continued and with her eyes fixed on the bedsheet, her hands calmly running the same path over and over, like a child petting a cat, he couldn't manage to open his mouth. "There were three of us, once. Three Black sisters. Bellatrix was the beauty, but she was cold, even then. Andromeda was in Ravenclaw – not terrible, but she was always different. She played Quidditch. Bellatrix played with peoples' hearts. I…fenced. I was a fencing champion, when I was sixteen. Slytherin won the House Cup, that year, and I always imagined it was because I had won the championship.
"There were three Black sisters. Bella was two years older than me, Andy was six years older… Your father was in love with Bella, you know. When she married Rodolphus, he turned to me. The second-best sister. And I fancied myself in love with him, for a few years. It was far too late when I realised what he was. When I was sixteen, I was afraid. But I had won something for the first time in my life. Bella had left school the year before, your father hadn't set his sights on me yet… Andromeda had a baby and a Muggle husband, and she sent me an owl every Christmas, even though I had been told she died.
"In retrospect, I suppose I must have been the brains, though Andromeda was the Ravenclaw, because I certainly never had loyalty. Or perhaps she was both brains and courage and I was simply a spare. The spare sister, beside Bellatrix's beauty and Andromeda's recalcitrance, and now I am the last sister. Andromeda did die a few years ago, and I was just told Bellatrix has been killed." The news didn't hit him, terribly. He hadn't been close to his aunt, and his mother's story had him enraptured. A textbook lay forgotten by his knee.
"When I was sixteen, I was a year above a girl named Lily Evans. Yes, you recognise the name as Harry Potter's mother. At the time she was only a girl; I didn't even know she was a Gryffindor. I taught her to fence. She was Flitwick's favourite; I always assumed she was in Ravenclaw. When I was sixteen, I was friends with Lily Evans. She was a fast learner, but compulsive about practicing. I thought it was crazy, but by the time the championship came along, all of the practice with her paid off. She came in fifth overall, after only a year.
"I was best friends with Lily, but we hardly ever saw each other. We were in different years and houses…we would meet in the library, or the fencing rooms, and all those hours talking and practicing, we became such friends.
"When I was sixteen, I was afraid. And then I met Lily. She saw the world like a garden, she told me once. Some people were weeds, kept others from growing. Some made others seem more beautiful than they were. She told me I was a gorgeous white flower, that I looked picturesque and breakable, but really was soft to the touch. I always wonder why she befriended me. I though she was a Ravenclaw, but she must have known I was a Slytherin. We would meet in the fencing room, crossing blades nearly every day. You'll find it's very difficult to keep secrets from someone you've sweat beside. Someone whose blood you've drawn, someone who's drawn yours. Oh, of course the rapiers were spelled, but this was years ago, before everything came with a safety spell, so they still could inflict damage. We could scratch each other, every so often get a shallow cut. All alone in that training room…she made me such a different person. I would say a better person, but time has told, and she's dead. I'm glad she's dead, really. Glad I don't have to tell her what her friend has become.
"When I was sixteen, I was so happy. I started to live, and it was exhilarating. The year, ended, though, and then it was my last and I quit fencing; Lucius thought it was a masculine talent, and I didn't see her again until her picture was in the paper, that day.
"Some might think, when I say I was at my peak when I was sixteen, that I'm talking about sport, or beauty, and both of those might be true, but no. As a person…as a person, I was my best when I was sixteen. For one year, I lived. Living, for Lily, was as easy as breathing. It was breathing. Just being alive, she lived. She touched lives, stood up for the disadvantaged. She was stubborn, and amazing. Living, for me, was so hard. Making a choice…any choice…I was a coward. I didn't want to be wrong. Lily taught me to dance on the grave of my mistakes. She taught me to dance. She was a natural, with that sword in her hand. She said it was like dancing, and for her it was. She would take her hair down, sometimes. It hung past her shoulderblades, this wave of amber-gold. She didn't have red hair, though everyone says so. No, it was this…dark orange, with gilt flecks. It flipped in its ponytail when she parried, and flew everywhere when it was down. She was so graceful, her hair so beautiful…she was beautiful.
"I know why James Potter loved her, because so did I. I wasn't in love with her, but I loved her. Not like I ever loved my sisters, but like I should have. She was the sort of person to be jealous of…unless you knew her. Then you just felt lucky. She was a year below me, when I was sixteen, but she made me forget to be afraid. Lily Evans was the strongest person I've ever known, and if she knew me now, she would forgive me. Forgive me my faults, my mistakes, and I know it. And it makes it that much more painful, because she was like a river of…of love, and I miss her. I miss her more than Andy, more than Bellatrix."
She suddenly lifted her head, looked into him, with those shiny cerulean eyes. "Don't waste your time on me, Draco. Your father might say otherwise, but family isn't everything. Sometimes…there's another kind of love. And if you find it, you've got to hold on for dear life, and ride the waves, follow the river…even if it tosses you into rocks. Pain isn't the worst thing in life, and success isn't the best. Regret is worse than a thousand Crucios, and love is greater than a million Galleons. Don't waste your time on your mother, if you find that kind of love. Don't waste your time on your father, or Voldemort. Some things are more important, and you need to know that. …Before you go to your last year, you need to know that." She stood slowly, her fingertips slipping off the silk bedsheet. "Dinner is at half-six, so you should get dressed. I'll send up a house elf to finish the packing."
He watched her pretty summer dress disappear down the hallway as the door closed. He knew what to do, now that he was seventeen.
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A/N: Another oneshot, something that needed to be cut from a larger project but that I loved too much to scrap. Thank you for reading.