Hey there all! I'm afraid to AOA Chapter 27 is still not finished sigh but as you can see Tears of Gold Chapter 4 is. Therefore I'm posting it as a kind of Happy New Year to everyone lol ^^
This chapter is quite dark, especially compared to the previous ones but the reason for this is to really show the contrast between Narcissa's life in France and her one in England. And of course, this underlines the differences in Narcissa herself. In France she's happy and natural and how she really is deep down. At home however she has to be someone else, she has to protect herself, and her sanity and therefore we see in this chapter her armour as you might put it, beginning to be put on. Her light is not snuffed out but it does dim when she's back home and exposed to the cruelty of the Black family.
Anyway, I hope you like ;)
Read, hopefully enjoy and REVIEW!
Luv y'all and HAPPY NEW YEAR! =)
Lili
X x x x x x x x
So small, so swift a moment to change the course of one's entire life.
Even now the memory causes a bittersweet smile. That night, that dance, that kiss, it could have been such a promising beginning, only to become a cruel end. Agony and heat burning the tiniest shoots of what perhaps could have become something more, into a shrivelled crisp; a charred, bitter hatred that smoked and curled on Paris's gold-paved floor.
How many years were lost in that night. How much pain and resentment would have to be laid to rest before we could return to something resembling that quick, intense rush of mutual attraction.
How different things might have been, my heartbeat seems to whisper, its steady thump quickening to a gallop as Lucius' lips glide down my throat, curved and cruel, possessive and yet, despite all his best efforts, unmistakably tender. Two bodies, entwined and enlaced with ribbons of desire and the last residual tendrils of a mutual loathing that will never completely fade. Could it have been otherwise, I wonder silently to the night., eyes fluttering closed as his kisses burn my skin in hellish pleasure.
If he had let go of the feverish call for revenge, would we still be here now? Clasped in each other's arms, revelling in the feel of skin and against skin, heart against heart? Would my nails automatically rake down his back and would his teeth sink into my flesh with a cruel hiss of need? Or would we smile secrets with only our eyes, kiss each other's body with reverence rather than jealous possession? Could our love have been pure, untouched, untainted?
Lucius' mouth latches on to my breast and my golden head is thrown back in unbearable ecstasy. I feel the delicate flesh bruise and the gasp torn from my throat pulls his lips cruelly upwards.
For an instant he savours it, revels in it, taking pleasure in my pain just as he used to, just as I know he always will.
Before pressing his lips to the sting and soothing it with the softest, gentlest of kisses.
Dawn swept over Paris like the brush-stroke from a master painter. Streaks of crimson, ripples of gold, blushes of deepest pink ran and blended into a breathtaking medley of light and colour as the sun lifted its head in a weary yawn. The most magnificent of Hotels to the tiniest of muggle houses gleamed in the morning glow, for once equal in beauty and importance as the white walls sparkled like coloured crystal, and the windows, big and small, dazzled the early risers into lifting their hands to their eyes against the glare.
The warm smells of bread and croissants wafted tantalisingly down the small twisted streets, smoke rose from chimneys, cocks crowed to celebrate the morn and the capital began to slowly bustle with life and exuberance.
All save one elegant Georgian-style room of one elegant Georgian-style Manor.
The shutters were closed, shutting out the light and the day so as not to wake the girl who tossed and turned fitfully between silken sheets. The magnificently carved four-poster bed creaked and protested as the girl's head was thrown from side to side, white fingers gripping the covers painfully tight, white lids screwed tightly shut against the nightmares that tormented her.
The same agony was reflected in the eyes of woman who sat, rigid and motionless by the bed, the perfection of her proud face marred only by the shared suffering. If her limbs ached from the hours of silent watch, one would not have guessed it. Her back was poker-straight, her hands clasped forcefully in her lap, partially hidden by the folds of lilac crepe. The white neck rising smoothly as a swan's from the lace of her dress quivered ever so slightly, the only movement save the tiniest rise and fall of her breast.
The girl let out a soft cry without waking, and Madame's eyes flickered briefly to her deathly pale face. Again the temptation to wake her was overwhelming, to rescue her darling from the terror and the fear, to hold her close so that the tears soaked her bodice and chilled her skin, making her briefly feel like she truly had the power to save her.
But the child had barely slept all night, and purple bruises darkened the skin around her eyes. She would need her strength, and as yet, Madame Amelie de Belle-Isle did not yet have strength herself to face reality.
Soothing had done nothing, the Veela had long given up stroking the hair back from her little one's face. The fever had broken in the early hours of the morning, so she no longer needed to cool the scalding brow with a damp cloth. The servants had all pressured her to try and gain some sleep for herself, offering to stay with Miss Black and come immediately to warn her if the girl's condition in any way changed. Madame merely shook her head without lifting her gaze until they had left in silence.
Instead she cleared her dry throat, swallowing once or twice in an effort to find some lingering saliva. Madame breathed deeply, before, first softer than a baby's sigh, beginning to sing.
The lullaby was hoarse, forced even, but music was a Veela's magic, whether it be dance, song or instrument. The air grasped the faltering notes and helped them on their way, softening the croak, smoothing the soreness, gathering sweetness and strength and emotion. It grew in power too, as Madame's bosom swelled and her eyes flashed, her features taught and severe as the pain was released via song; softened by love, enriched by experience and beautified by the magic in her blood and her soul.
The house seemed to still. It darkened in silent sorrow, feeling its mistress's sadness, sharing her pain. The humans did not understand, they only sensed the overwhelming grief, but the stones and the hangings and the gleaming wood knew what she mourned, for they had felt this heartbreak before, long ago, once upon a memory. It had been more bitter then, mixed with a tearing guilt, but the agony of loss was the same.
Curtains rustled as though the girls still giggled behind their folds. Almost forgotten figures danced and laughed in the antique silver mirrors, three of them, skipping lightly in swirls of silk and mischief. Floorboards creaked as invisible feet tiptoed from the three rooms that hadn't seen the light of day for over twenty years. And still the Veela sang, until the walls trembled, hairs stood on end and the house seemed to shake in a silent, agonising scream.
"Madame!"
The Veela did not see, did not hear, nor feel. Only her lips still moved, still produced the earthly sound, keening and haunting and too too beautiful as the plaster began to crack and paint crumbled and fell from the walls.
"Madame, je vous en pris! Réveillez vous!"
The chandelier jangled in the ceiling, spider-lines ran across the glass of the windows, a vase fell from the quivering sideboard and smashed against the tiled floor.
"MADAME, S'IL VOUS PLAIT, ARRETEZ!"
With a gasp the Veela's eyes flew open. Her chest shuddered and was still. The earthquake ceased and Madame turned her head to stare into Narcissa's anguished eyes.
The girl's face was filled with a rare fear, her hand was pressed imploringly against the woman's cheek; she'd obviously been trying to break the trance for some time. She was kneeling on the silken covers, golden curls dishevelled but the expression of terror faded into intense relief as Madame took another deep breath and relaxed in her chair. Then she turned her magnificent head once more, to show a warm reassuring smile to the child who still watched her with such huge, worried eyes.
"Forgive me, ma cherie," she breathed tiredly, "I should not have woken you, foolish selfish woman that I am!"
Narcissa immediately shook her head, denying the furious self-accusation and summoning a bright, cheerful smile.
"Mais non, Madame. I…" she hesitated before saying reluctantly, "I did not sleep well."
Madame nodded, a curious lump in her smooth throat.
"I know." No need to explain to the child that she had sat in the same spot for the entire night, it would only distress her further.
"Ma petite, there is something I must tell you."
She could not meet the child's gaze, guileless and innocent. But the truth would not wait, not even the pathetic half-truth she was permitted to divulge and although the bitterness stung her eyes and drained her mouth of moisture, the words were there, ready and waiting, meticulously prepared during the hours of silent watch. Now to find the strength…
Narcissa pulled on the soft lace that fringed the sleeves of her nightgown, folding the material back and forth with impatience she desperately tried to stifle. It was unlike Madame to hesitate to speak her mind and the look on her mother-figure's face was cold and taught enough to send a chill of worry down her spine. One hand lifted to twist a lock of golden hair around her finger, a childish habit she had discarded years ago but that nevertheless crept back in times of worry or stress. Finally Madame breathed a deep breath and turned her face to the window.
"You will be leaving for England tonight, by the earliest Portkey."
Narcissa gasped , her pretty mouth falling open in shock.
"Mais…Madame!"
The protest was cut of by a sharp white hand, and Madame's lovely face became if anything, more rigid.
"Your father has ordered your early return. You must be packed and ready to leave before nightfall."
"But, why? The wedding is not for another month…Surely…"
Another deep breath, one that almost strangled her as she forced it out and turned to meet the child's gaze, filled as it was with confusion and a hint of fear. Madame ordered her lips to smile and as always the obeyed, but although the smile did it's job in easing some of the tension in the young girl's face, it made the betrayal sting all the more painfully.
"I do not know the details, ma cherie," a half-truth that was no better than the lie that was to follow.
"But I'm sure it is nothing to worry about."
Again the warm loving smile that threatened to tear her face in two. Anger seethed and simmered below the surface but it was too late and as though to remind herself of the fact Madame held out her hands. Narcissa placed her own into them immediately and again the Veela had to fight back the urge to transform.
The woman's long tapered fingers held the smaller ones in a loving clasp, folding them together in a silent prayer and closing about them tightly. Then the hand on top made a subtle moment, as though to rub the girl's skin reassuringly but in reality to push up the fringe of lace until in fell back to bare her slim wrist.
There in the half-light, gleamed for all the world to see, a tiny wreath of silver. Madame briefly closed her eyes and gripped tighter before looking back.
The tiny links shone the pale, raw white of barely healed scar-tissue. A miniature chain, invisible to the naked eye unless held up to the light. Or brought to life by the curse that slumbered within. Narcissa noticed the fixedness of the woman's gaze and frowned in something almost like irritation..
"I don't know what he did. Do you think the scars will fade Madame?" she asked worriedly.
"Visible scars always fade, ma petite," the words flowed out automatically. And so they did, even if only if death. "I would not worry about them."
Blatant lies, they nevertheless caused such a dazzling smile to break out over the girl's sombre features that the Veela almost forgave herself them.
"Thank You Madame, I will not." Narcissa smiled blithely up at her protectress who nodded abstractly and rose from her seat with not a crease on her face to show for the aching muscles and stiff limbs. She strode to the door, haughty and poised as ever before turning back to the bed with one white hand resting on the frame of the door.
"I shall send Charis and Celine to you. Do not exert yourself trop, ma 'tite. We shall see each other later."
With one last smile of love Madame left the child and the room to their stunned, confused silence. Outside the door, she snapped her fingers and issued the orders to the house-elf that appeared immediately at her side. The little creature nodded and waggled its bat-like ears before disapparaeting with a pop to find Miss Charis. Madame turned on her heel in swirl of lilac silk and marched away towards the West Staircase, her mind already dusting off the tarnished keys and slipping into the dark, deserted rooms.
"Monsieur de LeRoy to see Miss Black."
Narcissa spun round in delighted astonishment as the house-elf vanished and the tall dark-haired figure strolled into the Blue Sitting Room with a flourish.
"Tristan!"
"Mademoiselle Black."
She danced across the room, all thoughts of the sewing-kit she had descended to retrieve forgotten and held out her hand to the young man. He took it at once but to her surprise did not immediately kiss it. Instead he stood there holding it between his two much larger ones for a moment, his handsome face unusually grave. Narcissa frowned and pulled out her most mischievous grin.
"Mais Tristan, you look positively cross. Are you not happy to see me?" she teased, searching his face for the usual answering gleam.
It eventually came, though late and rather half-hearted and Narcissa laid her other gloved hand on his arm in the beginnings of concern. Her golden head tilted to the side, eyeing him curiously and the bird-like look finally brought a true grin to his face.
"How are you Miss Black?" he said much more easily. Narcissa gave a theatrical sigh belied by the naughty gleam in those stunning blue eyes.
"Better, I suppose. I have slept no less than fourteen hours and now feel rather like one of the living dead." she twinkled playfully.
To her astonishment the boy barely seemed to hear her teasing answer. Instead her stared into the empty space over her left shoulder, before tugging at the elegant silk cravat around his neck as though it choked him. Tristan seemed to struggle for his words before finally saying
"Will you….would it be prudent of you to perhaps attend the play with me tonight…?"
The question began hesitantly but grew in strength and determination. Narcissa's eyes widened in shock, barely noticing as his hand gripped her own even tighter. She blinked up at him, momentarily at a loss for words.
"With…friends…?" she asked warily. Tristan's deep blue gaze had never been more serious in all the years she'd known him. He never looked away as he shook his handsome head.
"No, Miss Black…Narcissa. Unless you would prefer not." he said softly.
Narcissa could barely breathe; it didn't seem to make sense. Tristan de LeRoy was hinting…that he would seek permission to court her officially? It was like she was in a dream, a strange, unbelievable dream that she would awake from any minute and laugh about in the morning with Charis over breakfast. The drawing room, Tristan, his hand over hers, it all seemed very far away as the image flashed through her mind.
For a brief instant she saw herself in a white dress, her sisters smiling faces, her fathers begrudging pride and most of all Tristan's face glowing with love as he prepared to take her hand and keep it forever. Pureblood damsels envied her good fortune from all sides, staring jealously at the girl lucky enough to fall in love with a young pureblood as well known for his lineage as his wealth.
She never allowed herself to entertain the thought; Tristan was a self-proclaimed playboy. Not once had it ever crossed his mind to court a girl officially; he'd told her more times than she could count. But here he was offering her just that, a future, marriage, wealth and position and a husband of her own age who was undoubtedly fond of her. What more could a girl wish for?
The image of a butterfly flashed through her mind, soaring up towards an endless sky of blue and her fingers twitched of their own accord as the longing to follow her swelled in her chest.
Then suddenly a burn of pain stung her cheek and she pulled back with a gasp.
Tristan's hand was still lifted, a line creasing his brow slightly from where she'd flinched away but the small smile she sent up at him cleared the worry from his face. There were roses in her cheeks and she seemed to avoid his gaze, preferring instead to focus on their clenched hands. It flashed though Tristan's mind that she's never looked more beautiful and before her eyes had time to widen, he was lowering his face to kiss her.
"Cici, qu'est ce que tu fais, parbleu?" What on earth are you doing? "Oh!"
Charis stopped dead in the doorway as the her best friend and her visitor drew apart. A half-veela did not flush; did not betray embarrassment of any kind, but Charis did bite her lip briefly, wondering whether she should disappear back out of the room with a whirl, but knowing also that time was marching on. The portkey was due to leave in less than an hour.
Narcissa read the hesitation on her best friend's visage and acted for her. She turned back to Tristan with a warm but sad smile, staring earnestly into his face to make him understand that this was not a rejection.
"I'm leaving, Tristan. Tonight." he opened his mouth to speak, a frown already lowering his brows but she cut him off with a reassuring touch on his arm.
"It's nothing serious. The wedding itself is only a month away, the rehearsal in under three weeks and Father probably has decided that my presence during the preparations is necessary after all. I'll be back in just over than a month."
Tristan still looked worried and Narcissa suppressed the impulse to smooth away the creases from his brow. He frowned so rarely that it was odd to see him without his usual sly grin. His proposal had taken her by surprise and he idea of them seriously courting was still new, but… She looked up into his smooth face for once a little shyly, and it brought the typical cocky gleam back into his eyes. Her cheeks flushed and she avoided his gaze determinedly as she said quietly,
"When I return, maybe we could…finish this conversation."
The smile came as swiftly as a beam of like, infectious and mischievous and so dazzlingly bright that Narcissa almost blinked as she lifted her head and met his eyes.
"Narcissa you are heartless. Alone and unanswered for over a month: you will leave me inconsolable."
This was more familiar territory and Narcissa raised a mocking eyebrow at once, her lips quirking as she fought back the wicked little grin.
"Somehow Tristan, I rather doubt that."
He put a theatrical hand to his heart with a look of deepest hurt, but Narcissa merely twinkled naughtily back at him, her golden curls gleaming in the light as she shook her head.
Then Charis' pointed looked over Tristan's shoulder reminded her that time was slipping slowly but surely away and so with a sigh of regret, Narcissa held out her hand for her friend to kiss. He bowed over it dashingly, throwing her a roguish wink as he did so, but the thought flashed none the less through her mind that the movement was not as graceful as it had once seemed to her. For a moment a figure all in black bent before her with a celestial grace, before she blinked and shook her head fiercely to clear it. Foolish girl that she was to be thinking of that prick now.
Oblivious to her inner-battle, Tristan rose and sent her one last devilish smile, and she revelled in the tiniest flutter of butterflies in her tummy.
"Oh, faithless one, you wound me. I shall take this opportunity to prove the seriousness of my intentions." he laughed at the way her eyes widened in shock and then laughing disbelief, and pressed the gloved hand he still held.
"Hurry home Narcissa. We are many who will miss you." he finished a little more softly.
Then he turned and strode to the door, pausing only to bow briefly to Charis and throw one last blinding smile at Narcissa, that made her blink just a little dazedly.
"Farewell Miss Black. And stay away from mysterious strangers. The role of your knight in shining armour is not one I am willing to share."
He winked. She blushed. Then he disappeared into the hallway and out of sight, his voice echoing to Narcissa's ears as he called for his hat and cloak before finally the front door slammed.
Narcissa was silent for a moment, silent and motionless until finally she lifted her head and glanced towards the half-Veela, now standing with her pretty mouth hanging open in shock. The look was too priceless and Narcissa's peal of irrepressible laughter pulled Charis out of her stunned daze.
The taller girl marched across the room with her nose lifted haughtily in the air, but the excitement quickly overcame the mild pique and a moment later she was clasping Narcissa in her arms with a huge smile of disbelief.
"Cici! I'm so happy for you! Narcissa de LeRoy! You snagged the most eligible bachelor in the school, not to mention the most LUSCIOUS!"
"Charis, we're not even courting yet!" Narcissa protested, torn between laughter and exasperation. The half-veela charged on as though she hadn't even heard it.
"I'll be Godmother, don't forget! And you'll be my son's and then he'll fall in love with your daughter, and then they'll marry and we'll have Grandchildren TOGETHER and…"
Then an almost manic light came into her eyes and she clapped her hands and threw back her handsome head in wicked laughter, as Narcissa looked on, confusion stealing into her face that was still lit up in amusement at her friend's enthusiastic plans for her future.
"And…?" she prompted, her voice shaking as she tried not to break into helpless giggles.
Charis glanced at her, her perfect features stretching into an absurdly wolfish grin.
"And I can't WAIT to tell De Richelieu!"
An hour later, the laughter had faded and the people clustered in the informal salon were strangely quiet and subdued. An enormous quantity of baggage was piled up amidst the elegant chaise-lounges and gilded glass coffee-tables. Four trunks, several band-boxes and close to thirty shoe-boxes formed a towering heap in the centre of the tastefully furbished room, waiting to be transported by house-elf to Black Manor.
Narcissa had been surprised at the vast quantity of baggage her preceptress had deemed necessary for the trip; she would return in just over a month after all. Did she really need to take her entire wardrobe for such a relatively brief visit? But Madame had merely said that Father had insisted. The parties and soirées both preceding and following the wedding itself would be innumerable, and Cygnus Black, pinch-penny that he was when it came to his daughters, had no intention of purchasing a second wardrobe for Narcissa's summer stays.
Narcissa herself was standing next to the tower of luggage, dressed for England's rather greyer weather in a rich fur-lined cloak and the finest of leather gloves. The dark blue travelling robes were smartly but severely cut, tightly buttoned up to the throat and round her wrists. A little hat completed the ensemble, of a matching indigo that brought her gold curls to life like sunshine on water. Her little face was pale and perfect as a doll's, her eyes the same deep colour as the cloth on her body and they sparkled like jewels as she tried desperately to erase the distinctly depressed look on Charis' flawless face.
"Smile for me my love, please! You do not wish me to remember you with a sulk!" she teased.
Charis, resplendent in rose silk, sighed and tapped her fingers impatiently on the curved scroll arms of the chair she was seated in, but did not answer. Madame turned her head however and, after a moment turned away from the window that looked out onto the street and came to clasp her little one in a tight hold. Narcissa returned the embrace enthusiastically, burying her face into Madame's smooth shoulder and filling her nose with that rich, musky scent as though to hold on to it forever.
Madame's white hand came to stroke the girl's head lovingly, her lids closed in silent thought. Before finally drawing gently away. She held Narcissa's shoulders lightly, smiling down into the piquant little face with affection but the sadness that lurked in the back of the Veela's eyes could not be fully vanquished. Narcissa laughed a little confusedly, trying to lighten the strangely heavy atmosphere.
"We are silly, non? To make so much of me leaving when it is the same every year."
Madame laughed her rich husky laugh but when her head lowered once more the sigh escaped despite herself.
"However brief the parting ma petite, I will miss you none the less." she smiled, lifting her hand stroke the fifteen-year-old's cheek.
Narcissa smiled impishly back, innocent and glowing and for a moment Madame almost wanted to tell the child the truth and never let her go. Her fingers quivered ever so slightly on the smooth peachy skin, unwilling to leave, unwilling to let go. Not again, her heart cried silently, please, not again.
But the pain was shelved before the haughty, flawless façade could crack and Madame simply smiled majestically down at her protégé, breathing deeply and forcing her lips to part.
"Be well, ma chérie. Do not let the darkness in that house smother your light."
Narcissa nodded, her face still radiant and unsuspecting.
"As always Madame. It is only for a month."
The Veela feasted her eyes on the girl's face. The chime of the cloak on the marble mantelpiece told her that the elves would be here any moment but she ignored it, stroking the girl's cheek tenderly for just a little while longer, staring down but seeing a faintly different face to the one that was there.
"You are…much like your mother." Madame's gaze became misty. "When you smile, and wilfully set your chin , just so…I see her again. My Ella. You have her strength, mon ange. Her spirit, her charm and her stubborn pride. May it serve you well."
Narcissa couldn't speak for the curious lump in her throat. Her mother was a forbidden subject at home at least with her Father. To hear the love in Madame's voice for her childhood friend, to receive some of that same love; it almost brought tears that hadn't fallen for two years. Narcissa threw herself into Madame's arms and only the loud "crack" of her Father's attendants arriving made them draw apart.
The five house-elves bowed respectfully to first Madame de Belle-Isle and then Narcissa, each of attired in matching white tea-towels embroided with the golden Black Crest.. One of them stepped forward and squeaked
"If Mistress permits, we will convey Mistresses baggage to the Manor and then return with the portkey for Mistress herself."
"That will be fine Totty," Narcissa nodded to the Head Elf with a small smile, "That gives me a little longer to say my farewells."
Totty bowed once more, so low that his bat-like ears waggled and brushed the pale carpet. Then he snapped his fingers to the other elves and they immediately began to take hold of the parcels and disappear with a bang before reappearing a moment later and repeating the procedure.
Madame held Narcissa's face in her hands one final time, her deep, dark eyes glowing with such emotion Narcissa against all logic, felt something in her chest seem to mourn as well.
"Always remember, mon coeur, you may always come to me." the Veela whispered finally,
«And in this place, you will always have a home."
Narcissa nodded dumbly, the lump in her throat almost choking her. But time was ticking away and so she turned away, looking instead towards the person she would miss most during the long weeks at Black Manor, her heart clenching in her chest and her throat dry as a bone.
"I'll need you to look after Tristan while I'm gone." she tried for a smile, "Don't let Aurélie anywhere near him."
Charis rose out of her chair with all the grace she was named for, crossing the room in one swift motion before clasping the other girl tightly in her arms. Narcissa returned the embrace fiercely, smelling the familiar sweet perfume she brought her for Charis' fourteenth birthday, and feeling the comforting beat of their hearts in time.
"I wish you didn't have to go Cici." she murmured into Narcissa' hair and Narcissa squeezed her even tighter in response.
"I'll be back before you notice I'm gone." she whispered back. They drew apart and Charis stared down at her friend as though trying to engrave the image into her memory, her feature creased into a worried frown.
"My head knows this, but my heart…Ahhh I am foolish Cici, but I cannot help but feel that I will not see you again for a very long time."
Narcissa grinned her most impish grin, ignoring the tiny chill of foreboding at the words. Charis was not a seer, the idea was preposterous, but she did possess a natural instinct that had been proven right too many times to be counted as mere coincidence. If Charis thought… Narcissa shook her head determinedly. She would not think such things; it served nothing. The wedding polite society had been waiting for for almost three years would finally take place and she, Narcissa, would be back here in France where belonged before a month and a half was up. Not even Father could prevent her from completing her education.
A polite cough at her feet made Narcissa drop her hands and her head, to smile down at the creature.
"If Mistress if ready."
The trunks and boxes had all vanished. Totty was waiting expectantly with an worn leather glove in his knobbly fingers and with one last kiss for Madame and Charis, Narcissa stepped forward and took it in her own gloved hands. The magic worked immediately. Narcissa felt the familiar, uncomfortable tug somewhere under her navel and suddenly the room swirled and blurred around her like a giant whirlwind. Fighting the nausea and sensation of falling through a sandstorm, Narcissa gritted her teeth and waited for the final lurch.
The world stopped spinning with a jolt. Narcissa felt her feet hit solid wood and she fiercely dug her heels in a furious attempt to stay upright as the room righted itself at last. A deep breath before finally her golden head lifted and she cast her now carefully blank gaze around the horribly familiar space.
The hall was dark and forbidding as it had been when she'd left almost a year ago. The dusty vaulted ceiling, the candles and the flickering orange glow they cast; it was all so terribly familiar. The vast main staircase rose like a Basilisk before her, curved and rolling and stained dark amber. What little light there was forced it's way in through the drawn curtains that obscured the huge bay windows like mourning drapes. The suits of armour stood like silent accusers, the portraits watched her sternly and contemptuously from their gilded frames.
Narcissa repressed the shudder and drew herself up to her full, admittedly not very impressive height, her chin arching as proudly as a queens. This was her house, her heritage, her glory. Narcissa set her shoulders in challenge and waited.
The silent battle raged. The girl's eyes flashed like polished sapphires, her posture inimitable, her pride equal to the woman's she resembled so closely as she stared coldly and fiercely straight ahead into nothing and still she waited.
Finally, reluctantly, Black Manor bowed down in welcome to it's youngest Mistress.
The sound of a door shutting softly to her left made Narcissa turn her head, repressing the urge to flinch away from the tall, powerfully built woman who had just glided through it. Pureblood ladies were taught from birth to make no noise as they moved; even this woman's size eight feet made not a sound under the full floor-length skirt that seemed to float like a ghost towards the slightly built girl, the contrast between them almost shocking.
The lady's face was handsome despite the years that numbered more than forty, but only from a distance. Up close the expression could be seen to be too harsh, the line of her features too sharp and the curve of her lips nothing short of cruel. They sneered almost by habit, her nose was thin and straight and contemptuous but it was the eyes that had rendered Narcissa paralysed with fear since as long as she could remember. Sharp and black and vicious, they flashed like Bella's did when she was angry, as though the woman hated everything and everyone she laid eyes upon, including her own family.
Narcissa gathered her skirt, bowed her head and dropped into a flawless curtsey.
"Aunt Walburga." she murmured respectfully.
Mistress Walburga Black drew back her thin lips and snarled in answer. Before Narcissa could do more than cry out the woman's bony fingers entangled themselves in her hair and with merciless strength dragged the girl towards the doorway through which she had entered.
"You filthy little bitch!" she hissed in Narcissa's ear, "You knew didn't you! You were in on it all along!"
Narcissa couldn't find enough breath to reply. Her hair felt like it was being wrenched from her head. She could feel the strands tearing at the roots under her Aunts merciless grip and stars of shock and pain seemed to spin before her eyes.
The door was flung open with a crack of the wand and the deranged woman dragged her niece into the smaller Blue Salon before throwing her brutally to the ground. Trying desperately to collect her thoughts Narcissa blinked up at her blindly, her small hand lifting automatically to where her head still throbbed, her lips open in shock as she gasped for breath.
"What did she tell you?" the hag screeched "Where has she gone?"
"I don't…"
SLAP!
The force of the blow snapped Narcissa's head back so hard that her neck cricked. The soundless cry escaped from her lips. A drop of blood slipped down her cheek and into her mouth from where the woman's ring had split the skin like butter. Momentarily stunned Narcissa didn't even register that her aunt was still screaming, still the same words that meant nothing to her…
"Where has she gone? Where is she hiding? Speak you little rat!"
It seemed her Aunt had completely lost her whatever sanity she had had. Narcissa stared up at her in bewilderment and fear, unable to look away from the drool escaping from the corner of the hag's screaming mouth, the bulge of her eyes, the claw-like nails of the hand that was swinging once again towards her…
SLAP! And again. SLAP!
Narcissa fell back against the Persian rug, both cheeks now smarting, her brain buzzing as it tried unsuccessfully to process the words.
"We are all RUINED!" her aunt was screeching "RUINED because of that whore! That defiled, treacherous little slut!"
The woman's wand was suddenly out and pointed towards her and Narcissa instinctively braced herself for the pain that invariably followed. But not so soon, the thought flashed through mind. Usually the crucio's would wait a day or so…
The wand drew back, Narcissa's lids fluttered shut when a sudden CRACK made them spring open in surprise to her Aunt lowering her wand with a look of extreme displeasure.
"What is it?" she barked to the quavering house-elf that had just apparated into the salon.
"The Master," the creature swallowed in terror, "The Ma…Master has asked to see Miss Black in his study. His guest insisted…"
Walburga's eyes seemed to bulge from their sockets at the mention of this unknown stranger and Narcissa looked from the petrified Totty to her aunt in curiosity. The woman seemed to fight to steady her breath, chest heaving up and down like a pair of bellows before finally the madness seemed to recede and Narcissa breathed an inward sigh of relief. Walburga snarled in frustration but finally snapped at the elf
"Very well. Tell my brother we will be there immediately."
The elf disappeared and Narcissa swallowed as her aunt revolved slowly on the spot to glare down at her with an expression of deepest revulsion.
"Get up!" she hissed sharply, "Get up and undo your robes, now!"
"But…"
"NOW!"
The wand lifted menacingly and Narcissa hastened to obey, her fingers trembling so hard that they fumbled over the tiny buttons, so that the raging banshee snarled with impatience.
"Hurry up you little bitch! It you're not pure,…"
She didn't continue, slashing the air with her wand so that the exposed undergarments ripped neatly in to. Narcissa cried out in shock and covered her body, anger and confusion battling for dominance as her Aunt marched closer and threw her hands away. Narcissa swallowed in shame as the woman looked her up and down as one might examine a brood mare. The hag snorted in obvious disparagement before suddenly pointing her wand at the girl's lower abdomen and snarling
"Virgo Revello."
Narcissa screamed. The pain was white-hot and seemed to burn her from her very core. Instinctively her hands lifted to clutch at the exposed skin but Walburga slapped them away pitilessly, her flashing black eyes completely focused on the wand that was still pointed at the girl's most private parts.
The seconds ticked by like hours, as the pain and humiliation left Narcissa dizzy, choking her like a noose around her neck until suddenly a burst of pure white light exploded from the wand like sunlight through the clouds. Aunt Walburga heaved a sigh of relief and lowered her hand.
"Thank Merlin; you're not such a whore as the other two! We may yet survive."
The woman turned away and closed her eyes in thanks to the heavens, all thought of her niece forgotten. The slim figure lay fragile and quivering on the ground still, trembling from the lingering pain and forcing down the bile that filled her cream throat. Fighting the waves of dizziness Narcissa pulled herself upright, staring up at her aunt in painful confusion yet unable to speak a word.
Then the terrible woman spun forcefully round, marching towards the girl and yanking her to her feet with a growl.
"Move it. Your Father is expecting you, you little hussy and if he finds out you helped her….I swear to Merlin there will be hell to pay! Get dressed! You're already late."
Narcissa's eyes sparkled militantly at the outrageous insinuation that it was her fault her father had been kept waiting, but long experience of her aunt's madness made her bite her tongue and swallow the fierce retort. The vile old hag hissed and tossed her head back and forth in impatience but Narcissa deliberately took her time fastening the innumerable gold buttons that closed the robes from her ankle to her throat. She stared at her hands to hide the surge of hatred she felt for the evil bitch, watching the white fingers shake with a mixture of both fury and gut-wrenching fear. And all the while her mind whirled like a sandstorm, as her aunt words echoed in her head again and again and she tried to make sense of them. Something had happened, that much was sure; something terrible, but what? Again the panic reared it's ugly head; Andy? Bella? Were they alright? Not so much a whore as the other's, her aunt had said. What could that mean? Andy was engaged, to be married in under a month, and Bella…
Narcissa flushed slightly. Bella at least could not be called pure but to call a member of the House of Black defiled, it was unthinkable no matter how promiscuous. Bella's name would replace her rather tainted virtue, her pure-blood lineage, her family's endless wealth and spotless reputation were enough to render her one of the most eligible young ladies in the country regardless of her sullied innocence. So why this sudden…madness was the only word she could call it.
Narcissa finished the final button and, with a deep breath, lifted her head to meet her aunt's wild gaze.
The older woman snarled, drawing her lips back into a sneer before grabbing Narcissa's wrist and dragging her with merciless strength back out of the towards, across the hall, up the West staircase before finally coming to a raging halt outside the familiar forbidding ebony door.
The words "Cygnus Pollux Black" gleamed in gold copperplate script in the very centre of the ornately carved snakes that curled and slithered and hissed in menace, and Narcissa felt the familiar terror clawing up her throat as the sight brought back a thousand memories, all of which she yearned and prayed to forget.
For a moment Narcissa stood paralysed before the entrance, a silent scream locked in her throat, her imagination instinctively relieving the agony of her father's wand wracking her entire body. Her limps seemed to freeze, as her whole being cried out silently for her not to enter the door, not to go in and submit to the torture, not to inflict it on the few people she truly loved.
But Walburga's huge hand slammed onto the ebony like a drum, startling her out of her panic attack and before she knew the woman had thrown open the door and thrust her unceremoniously through it.
Narcissa almost cried out, but by the time she had recovered from the shock the door had already slammed behind her. All she could do was turn to face the scene from her nightmares and so, squaring her shoulders and lifting her little chin, Narcissa revolved slowly on the spot.
The room was as dark and oppressive as in her flashes of memory. The desk was huge and black, framed by three massive windows, all of them covered in heavy emerald drapes as though to block out the light as fully as possible. What little light there was, was given by the tall candle that sat in it's ornate silver holder to the very left of the desk. Other smaller candles lined the silver and green patterned wallpaper dotted between the thin ebony panelling. A matching ebony chest of drawers and a huge black dresser stood one on each side of the room, beside identical viewing cabinets where the family's most treasured heirlooms were jealously guarded. But the girl did not even spare the décor a glance; it was to her Father than Narcissa's gaze was incredibly drawn, two sparkling lights of both pride and an almost overwhelming fear.
She dropped into a deeply respectful curtsey, muttering to the floor
"Father."
The man in question sat behind the desk like a statue carved from the same wood surrounding him. The candlelight cast an orange glow to his harsh features, rendering them, crueller and even more frightening than she remembered. His black hair gleamed like bloody onyx, his face oddly haggard and gaunt as he stared at his youngest daughter with, for the first time in Narcissa's memory, something approaching his sister's madness. He stared as though he did not really see her, his fists clenching and spasming on the desk and when the man lounging casually nearby moved, Cygnus Black flinched away as though his guest would strike him.
Narcissa finally tore away from the haunted look in her father's eyes to look warily at the stranger. At first glance something in his pale features rang a cord of memory within her but the impression of déjà vu didn't not linger for. She did not recognise him though, growing up as she had in France and away from English society, this was not to wondered at. Andy or Bella might have recognised him immediately, for memorable he certainly was.
He was far from young but still tall and powerful, with lean yet prominent muscles evident in his forearms and through the folds of his black trousers. His face was proud, pale and undeniably handsome; Narcissa had to repress a blink. But the beautifully carved features were as still and rigid as marble, the faint smirk sat frozen on his lips as he too stared at the tiny blonde with a look she couldn't decipher.
The man moved suddenly, gliding forward with a nonchalance that was almost insulting and as he passed closer to the candle, the long strands that covered his head gleamed like white gold. Everything about him screamed danger, deadly danger wrapped up in silk and as he came closer Narcissa fought the urge to back away, to put as much distance as possible between herself and this frightening man.
When he finally halted mere feet in front of her, Narcissa summoned up the courage to look him straight in the eye. Two pools of silver glinted so ferociously that her lips parted in a silent gasp. Beneath the serene façade this man was…terrifyingly enraged.
"Look at me, girl." he finally said, his voice smooth as silk yet sharp enough to cut the silence and make both the child and her father wince.
"Sir." she swallowed and dropped another curtsey, her grace unimpaired by her fear, forcing her gaze to remain fixed on the gentleman's.
His face remained tranquil as a infant's; only the faint curl of his lip could have been any kind of warning of what was to come. Before Narcissa had to blink, the man's hand shot upwards and he asked soft as a sigh
"Did you know?"
Narcissa could only stare at him in bewilderment, her eyes pleading with him to believe her.
"I…I have no idea what you're talking about." she glanced imploringly at her father, but Cygnus Black remained as silent and detached as ghost, he simply stared at her with that empty, burning gaze that chilled her to the core. She returned her gaze to the pale man who was now eyeing her with that faint smirk still curving his mouth. He blinked, just the once before suddenly saying
"Crucio."
The pain was as swift and agonising as it was unexpected. Narcissa crumbled to the ground like a flower slashed at the roots. The screams echoed round the room and through her head. Her mind told her they were hers, the awful sound was coming from her lips but in the grip of the curse it all seemed so far away. All she could feel was the white-hot agony, burning her inside and out, a thousand knives tearing at her skin and her soul, as she rolled on the ground and screamed until her lungs bled.
Then suddenly it stopped. Through a haze of pain and heavy lidded eyes she stared groggily up at the man who still stood so nonchalantly in that same spot, his wand held lightly between long fingers, his air faintly impatient as though waiting for her to hurry up and compose herself.
With swallow and an inward moan she pulled herself almost drunkenly to her feet, her torso slightly bent over and her arms wrapped tightly round her body. At still the man watched her with faint interest, as though appraising her silently and as yet reserving judgment. His nonchalance brought forth a surge of bitter anger and using it to give her strength, Narcissa forced her head to lift, her jaw to clench and she glared coldly up at her torturer with every ounce of Black pride she possessed. The man openly smirked.
"I will ask you again." he said pleasantly, "Were you forewarned in anyway, shape or form?"
Narcissa grit her teeth and bit out
"I do not know of what I am supposed to have been forewarned. Therefore my answer must be no, sir."
"We shall find out. Cygnus?" he asked without turning his silver head. Narcissa looked towards her father in helpless appeal but the dark haired man simply shuddered slightly and nodded his head.
"Do it." hoarse, parched like man craving water in his dying moments. Narcissa turned back to the silver-haired stranger and awaited her fate.
His steel gaze with her blue; his wand lifted once more and Narcissa fought the urge to screw her eyes tight shut in terror. Those empty pools of grey would not allow it; they burned and blistered in icy rage as the man whispered ever so softly
"Legimens."
Flash
"Ah la la Cici, save your smiles and your charms for Tristan." Charis' smile dazzled like sunbeams on water. A thousand flash of colour twirling round like autumn leaves. The chandelier, glittering above."
Flash
"Pas ce soir, mes petites." Not tonight. "One day you will know, I promise, but for now, enjoy the dream."
Flash
"Please. Don't make me." Tears pouring silently down her cheeks, hot and scaling on ice-cold skin. The wand trembling in her fingers. Bella's face, set and fierce. "Do it, Cissy." Her father's face, dark and pitiless. Huge black eyes, filled with so much hurt and fire. Before they closed. The wand lifted. "Crucio." she whispered.
Bella's scream shattered every window.
Flash
Andy's letter, the formal invitation edged in gold leaf and tear-stains. Her own shock, concern, bewilderment. Her sister's expectation of those very emotions. "Do not worry about me Cissy. I will be fine."
Flash
"A chain to hold,…"golden light glowed around the wrists that he still held and all at once the pain from his grip was ten times more, excruciating, unbearable, making her scream silently as he continued
"…And a kiss to seal."
Flash
A surge of satisfaction, cruel and sadistic and a deadly voice lilting in her mind. "Did you know?". He had taken her by surprise, now instinct was compelling her to fight back, to push him out, to regain control but her mother's words stopped her.
"A weapon is most deadly when it is unexpected. Keep this between us my darlings."
Narcissa allowed herself to concentrate only on her overwhelming confusion, her shock her incomprehension and the intruder sifted through the emotions as though weighing up each and every one. Then, finally, the invasion subsided and the stranger, Mister Malfoy as he had finally revealed, released his hold and retreated from her mind with one last smirk.
Narcissa blinked as though wakening from sleep. The wooden floorboards were hard and unforgiving beneath her and as the world began to make sense again, she realised she was lying crumpled on the floor in an untidy heap.
Mister Abraxus Nero Malfoy stood tall and daunting, and she swallowed she mentally linked the cruel face to the name that still resounded in her head and that at last she recognised.
The man promised to her eldest sister stared down at her almost with interest, before turning on his heel and striding smoothly back to lean against the huge desk, very much at his ease.
"It would appear, Cygnus, that she is indeed both innocent and ignorant."
Despite her position on the ground and the numbing fatigue in her limbs, Narcissa's eyes flashed in swift anger. The man Malfoy smirked wider still. Cygnus Black did not answer his guest; he still stared gaunt and hollow at the figure of his daughter, gasping for breath at the foot of the raised dais.
"Get up," he said without any warmth of feeling. "The future Mrs Malfoy will not be a snivelling heap on the floor."
The words did not immediately sink in. Narcissa was completely still, as they turned over and over in her brain before suddenly her head lifted in dreadful, impossible compression and she stared horrified from one man to the other.
"But…that's impossible! Andy…!"
"DO NOT MENTION THAT SLUT'S NAME!" Cygnus roared. Narcissa shrank back before wrenching herself to her feet with as much dignity she could muster, her eyes huge and round and fixed on her father's face, her pretty face creased in complete loss.
"I don't understand!" she repeated desperately. Cygnus Black rose from his chair with a face like thunder.
"SHE IS DEAD TO ME! SHE HAS RUN AWAY WITH A MUDBLOOD! A FILTHY LOWLIFE MUDBLOOD! ABANDONING THIS FAMILY! SULLIYING THIS NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK BY JOINING WITH THIS…SCUM!"
Narcissa could only stare, frozen as one stunned as her father's bellows battered and blasted their way into her consciousness. Her entire being rebelled, silent screams of denial sticking in her throat as suddenly the enormity of what Andy had done gradually began to weigh her down like a tonne of lead.
They were ruined.
Utterly and completely. In one blow Andy had cast her family out of pureblood society forever. A sin of this magnitude would never be forgiven. Not now, not ever. The Black had lost everything.
Suddenly she found the strength to lift her head, her face a picture of complete shock, only to find the jilted bridegroom watching her with barely concealed pleasure.
"The contract is broken!" her father's broken voice made her turn her head blindly. "The price for such an…atrocity is…"
"Twenty-five times the original settlements promised." Abraxus Malfoy finished, soft and almost apologetic.
Narcissa almost swooned.
The settlements Mister Malfoy had bestowed upon his brides family were the second largest in pureblood history. Only the famous Dorea Persephone Black had been sold off for more. One hundred thousand galleons. The sum of money had been…incalculable for Narcissa's young mind.
The Malfoy's were the single wealthiest pre-blood family in Britain. Only their bloodline was infinitesimally lower than her own. The Malfoy's were not one of the "Select Seven". The Black's however were among this practically royal quintet, sharing the honour with the Potters, the Lestranges, the Weasleys, the Longbottoms, the Prewetts and the Gaunts. Even with all their billions, Malfoy blood would never quite compare. They were the close second, along with the Crouchs, the Mckinnons, the Crabbes, the Macmillans, the Bones', the Parkinsons, the Abbot's and the Vances, who in turn were infinitely above a hundred other families who could only prove their blood-purity going back less than eight generations.
It had seemed the perfect alliance, so perfect that the thirty years separating the bride and groom were nothing compared to the meeting of bloodlines and indescribable wealth. But now to pay those settlements back twenty-five fold. Narcissa's mind could only boggle. Even the Black fortune could never hope to pay it. In one single blow the estate would be wiped out, as swiftly and completely as words on a blackboard.
Andy had destroyed them all.
"But Abraxus'….generosity has persuaded him to forgo this payment." her father's words were empty as the grave, and on the contrary they did not give her hope but rather filled her chest with sudden dread.
"No…" she whispered, but Cygnus Black carried on without hearing her.
"In return for a replacement bride"
Narcissa felt her chest clench like a knife had been thrust into her breast. Words did not seem to want to come. She gazed up at the pitiless figure helplessly, pleading, begging him to listen
"Father, please! You can't do this! I can't! There's…someone else, pureblood and…and wealthy! Speak with him at least, I beg of you!"
"SILENCE!"
Narcissa choked on a gasp but obediently fell silent, her lips trembling and her eyes wide and desperate.
"You shame me!" he snarled furiously, "How blessed am I with my daughters; one blood traitor, one HARLOT!" he struggled to regain his composure.
Narcissa swallowed suddenly paralysed with fear for the punishment her sister must have undergone when the spell had declared her defiled and impure. It would have flashed red, red as the blood that would have dripped down Bella's chin only moment's later. Love and worry threatened to choke, as she wondered where Bella was now, how soon could she go to her…
"And you daring to insult the man who has promised us our only hope for salvation."
Narcissa remained silent, refusing to allow her mind to accept it, praying silently that it wasn't true.
"You will be married to Master Lucius Abraxus Malfoy on your eighteenth birthday."
"Master…?" she turned in confusion to the pale man now waving playing with an ornamental quizzing glass in his lean fingers. He smirked down at her, soft and deadly as a lethifold and Narcissa had to force herself not to cringe away.
"Yes, you will be married to my son. I would not touch the sister of such a whore, yet my son seems to feel that you are young enough yet to be moulded into something approaching desirable."
Narcissa's cheeks flushed and before she could stop herself, she had thrown back fiercely
"I'm much obliged to him."
All too late she recalled where she was and to whom she was speaking and sure enough her father's venomously crucio wracked her body with agony before she had time to even blink.
How long it went on Narcissa couldn't be sure. All she knew as that when her father finally lifted his wand, her throat was hoarse from screaming. And still Abraxus Malfoy smirked, eyeing her complacently as though enjoying her defiance as one might enjoy a comic play.
He carried on unruffled as though there had been no interruption, watching ignoring her painful rising to her feet and speaking instead to the ceiling almost whimsically.
"Of course I would not permit him to take such a risk without…insurance."
Narcissa bit her tongue so hard the blood ran bitter in her mouth but she kept her lips firmly closed, so that only the silent flash of her eyes hinted at the inward fury. Abraxus smirk turned pure evil.
"Insurance in the form of…a rather more binding contract." he continued smoothly, now examining his beautifully manicured fingertips. Something in the words made her glance at her father in one last hopeless appeal but Cygnus Black had closed his heavy lids and now stood like a rigid statue, as though silently waiting for the blow to fall. Narcissa turned back to her soon-to-be father-in-law and breathed quietly
"What…contract?"
Abraxus lifted his silver head and with a snap of his fingers drew from thin air a golden scroll.
"This contract. A contract of complete and lifelong obedience, loyalty and submission to her fiancé and soon-to-be husband." he paused, maliciously enjoying the numb look of horror that convulsed the girl's pretty features, before finishing with lilting triumph.
"An Unbreakable Vow."
The gasp escaped, catching her throat and rendering speech impossible at it slowly strangled her. No. No! NO!
"No…!" she finally choked out. "I won't! You can't make me!"
"You already have."
And with that the man rolled down the scroll and held it forward with a laugh dancing on his lips, so that the indented seal of ruby wax glinted in the light and the three signatures stood out in bold print from the vellum declaring to the world that she was little more than a slave. Groom: Lucius Abraxus Malfoy. Guardian and Representative of the Bride: Cygnus Pollux Black. Witness and Bonder of this Vow: Abraxus Nero Malfoy.
Narcissa looked up at the man she called father, as the last vestiges of hope drained like blood from her stricken face. He would not look at her, would not meet her eye and numbly her brain realised that he simply could not. He had sold her to the Malfoy not as a wife, not even as a human being.
"And now, my dear future daughter-in-law, there remains only to inform that you will naturally not be returning to France for the rest of your education. The details concerning your transfer to Hogwarts have already been taken care of and you may safely expect a letter of acceptance and welcome from the Headmaster sometime in the next four weeks."
"Not…returning to France? But…Madame…"
"Has already been informed of your engagement and the termination of her semi-guardianship." Abraxus cut off shortly.
Somewhere in her brain it registered that for the first time since the meeting had begun, a hint of…something, irritation perhaps, or maybe dislike, had crept into Mister Malfoy's voice. But it was too much to take in. Too devastating to accept as reality.
Narcissa stared like an inferi at the empty space in front of her, her face as pale as a sheet, her eyes completely dead.
"My son regrets that he may not spare the time to meet your acquaintance before the beginning of term but wishes me to pass on his compliments and his looking forward to your meeting on the first of September. If I were you Miss Black…" the man paused, the smirk back in full force.
"I would not disappoint him."
Narcissa swallowed the tiniest burst of anger and forced her features to remain as expressionless as stone. Abraxus smiled in even deeper delight.
"And now Cygnus, if we let the child rest? She must be tired and it has been an…eventful day for her after all. You and your…sister must have catching up to do."
Cygnus Black nodded blankly, his face as cold and impassive as his daughters as he said without any feeling at all
"Leave us."
As though in a dream, or perhaps a nightmare, Narcissa obeyed
She was sitting on the window seat, just as Narcissa knew she would be. Framed by the black velvet of the sky and a scattering of stars, her smoothly curved limbs were pulled tight around her rigid body, so still it was unnatural, so tense the air seemed to pulsate around her.
The thick ebony curls fell around her face in ragged, untamed abundance, obscuring it from a chance intruder's eyes. The honey skin was almost blue in the moonlight, the thin cotton nightdress all but transparent. She was cut off from the word, as untouchable as the stars and Narcissa halted in the doorway, desperate and all but breaking apart but not daring to pull her sister from the sanctuary of her secret thoughts.
She tried so hard to hold it in, but the dry sob escaped before she could stifle it with her hand. The way it trembled, she would have had little chance of succeeding anyway. The sound dashed across the room, through the open widow and to freedom before she could snatch it back and just as Narcissa had feared, it caused the girl to shudder, just the once, and finally, slowly, turn her head.
In that moment, staring into her sister's eyes, Narcissa felt she was looking straight into Hell.
She longed to run, to scream, to cry. Death was in her sister's beautiful face, death and murder and such hatred that Narcissa actually cringed back a pace in fear. Misery overwhelmed her. Suddenly she had never felt so alone in her life as she did now, staring at this stranger.
All at once she wanted Andy, the strong one, the one they depended on to pull them through the darkness and find even the smallest beam of sunlight within it. She wanted Madame to hold her close and tut at her foolishness. She longed for Charis and her confident laugh to drag her out of reach of her demons. Tristan, Eugenie, Marguerite, Antoine, Selene, Annette…She longed for them with all her being to come and save her from his nightmare. But most of all she needed Bella to come back, to wake up and hold her as Andy would have once done. As she would never hold her again.
For three years Narcissa had not cried. Not one single tear. They did not fall now. Instead her huge blue eyes simply begged silently for help, for reassurance and most of all for love. And somehow, they found something in the other girl's soul, some remnant of feeling, and dragged it to the surface.
Those heavy lids blinked once, twice and then relaxed. Those twisting fires of black black madness stilled and gradually, painfully died out. Humanity returned, pulled back from the brink by the younger child's need and a fierce determination that An…SHE…would not be missed. They did NOT need her! Not that treacherous bitch! They would survive without her! Just the two of them. The only Black sisters remaining.
The darker girl exhaled heavily before lifting her gaze now filled with sadness and compassion, and held out her arms. Narcissa let out a whimper of relief and ran into them with a muttered choke of
"Bella!"
The word was a soft, broken sob. Bellatrix Black closed her arms tightly around the now single most important being in her life and rested her square chin on the top of those shining golden curls.
"I'm here."
Above the child's head, her jaw clenched. The black fires reignited, only they burned slower now, like smouldering embers.
"I'll always be here."
Abraxus Malfoy strolled into the Green informal salon and threw his hat, his gloves and his cloak into the hands of the waiting elves with a completely satisfied smirk. He proceeded to the huge, gilded mirror that hung gleaming gold over the elegant Georgian dresser and tidied the folds of his cravat, his steel grey eyes fixing on the reflection of the only other occupant of the room.
The youth lounged very much at ease across the velvet upholstered canope, his long and leanly muscled legs half-bent in the air, one white hand trailing towards the floor, the other holding with considerable fineness a rather shabby book. He seemed oblivious to the older man's scrutiny from the mirror; he did not turn his head, so that only his distinctly handsome profile was visible. Instead he seemed to be waiting for the man to speak first which, after a small pause, he did.
"I met her. " he smirked casually. Without lifting his gaze from the page in front of him, the youth replied just as nonchalantly.
"And? "
Abraxus made a show of shaking out his ruffles before eyeing the achieved effect with feigned pensiveness. Then he lifted his gaze once more to the mirror, silver head tilted slightly to the side, his lined face creased a little in amusement.
"A flower barely unfurling it's petals. The image of her mother. " the smirk turned crueller, until it resembled more closely a sneer, an ugly mixture of mockery and contempt. "Pretty as a picture with the promise to grow into a woman stunning enough to hold a man's interest for maybe even a twelve-month. "
"If I was interested in bedding her. "
"And what are you interested in, my son? " Abraxus asked with only the faintest hint of curiosity.
The youth put down his book and rested the tired arm over his head onto the cushion, staring upwards at the moulded ceiling as though he could see a face there.
"In coaxing her into my arms and then crushing every little drop of life and laughter out of her body and her soul until she is just a shadow bound to serve my will and my desires. "
It was said as softly and as coolly as one might state the whether. But the cruelty of the words that would have shocked any normal auditor merely brought the widest smile yet to the older man's face.
"She has fire in her blood. You may be right; she will be fun to destroy. "
The boy finally turned his head against the velvet, so that identical steel eyes met and mocked in silent understanding. Then his lips lifted, pale, pink and disarmingly perfect, they curled into a smile so angelic it would make a mother weep. And seeing it, Abraxus Malfoy threw back his silver head in a low, musical laugh that seemed to tingle on the air in the quiet green room.
"You are so much my son. " he paused, allowing himself a moment to remember that smile and another who had worn it with such different, innocent purpose. The Malfoy smirk stretched wide and vicious.
" Almost I pity you, Miss Narcissa Evangeline Black. "
Et Voila! I have no energy left for long comments, as it is now 6h 30 in the morning lol so please don't sue because of the mistakes and I'll just repeat my earlier, rather pathetic plea. Read and REVIEW! =)
Luv ya!
Lili
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