"So… how was it?" Draco inquired, wiggling his eyebrows at his mother over brunch the following morning.
"How was what, dear?" Narcissa popped a strawberry into her mouth and focused on the wall behind her son's head.
"You know… your date," Draco replied, lowering his voice to a whisper.
"Oh… that!" Narcissa popped another strawberry into her mouth.
"Yes… that." Draco drummed his fingertips on the tabletop. It couldn't have gone over well! However, her coy behaviour troubled him since she typically answered his questions in a direct no-nonsense manner. What's she hiding?
"Oh, dear… it was rather… lovely."
Draco's choked on his coffee and spilled some on his trousers. He wiped it away with a loud coughing fit that drew curious looks from the other patrons.
"Lovely?" The color drained from his face.
"Yes. Mr Weasley was rather entertaining. In fact, I think I'll invite him over again."
"What?" Draco exclaimed, banging his hand on the table. "You cannot possibly be serious!"
Narcissa shrugged and grinned at him. Serves him right for setting that up!
"Oh yes. I rather fancy him. He'll make a wonderful father, and we can have a litter of children. You know how badly I wanted a little girl. Though, the Weasleys typically give birth to boys."
Draco's eyes widened, and he felt faint. How did my plan backfire?
Narcissa stared at him, trying to hide her amusement at his panicked state. She wanted to watch him squirm a bit more. His eyes bore into hers as if to pull the truth out of her.
"Draco, honestly!" Narcissa reached across the table and placed her hand over his. She rubbed a few small circles on the back of his hand to calm him down. "I'm not being serious."
"Oh, thank Merlin!"
"Now… if you'd like, you can set me up with Potter. He's become a rather attractive man, don't you think? I've always liked them tall, dark and handsome…"
"Mother!" Draco croaked, almost vomiting at the thought of his mother with his archrival. "Seriously?"
Narcissa let out a long laugh, no longer able to keep her composure.
"Maybe… maybe not… think about it," she responded with a shrug. That'll teach him his lesson.
Friday came quicker than she expected, and she found herself standing in front of her armoire trying to find a gown to wear. Surprisingly enough, she wasn't as nervous as the first time. She could handle whomever Draco selected for her. After all, she survived an evening with Ronald Weasley.
Next one's a Ravenclaw, she decided, fingering the sleeve of a dark blue silk gown. No self-respecting Slytherin would ever agree to date her. Her son knew better than to set her up with a Hufflepuff. As she styled her hair, she tried to recall the Pure-Blood Ravenclaw families, trying to decide which man would show up at her door. She slipped on a pair of silver stilettos and donned a matching pair of dangly earrings. Perfect, she concluded, surveying her reflection in her mirror.
"I've got it!" she called to her house-elves as a loud knock echoed through her flat. Narcissa descended down her marble staircase and opened the door. "Mr Lovegood?"
Narcissa's jaw dropped at the sight of the eccentric man standing on her front door stoop. She hadn't laid eyes on him since their last year at Hogwarts. Xenophilius looked worse for wear, clad in a hideous set of yellow dress robes. She noticed rips in the material, a cheap-looking polyester. His shoulder-length white hair hung in loose strands against his long face, and it looked in desperate need of a wash. He reminded her of an omelette.
"Evening, Mrs Malfoy," he slurred, swaying slightly. He almost fell over, saving himself with an arm propped against her front door.
Oh, gods no! Narcissa crinkled her nose at the smell of Firewhisky that surrounded him. She grabbed his forearm and dragged him into her home. She sat him in a chair in the front hallway and summoned a house-elf who returned moments later with a hangover potion and glass of water.
"Take this," she ordered, thrusting the items into his hands. He didn't fight her and downed both in one gulp. "Let's eat." She extended her hand to him. He shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. She huffed and stomped off down the hallway not bothering to see whether he was following her.
Narcissa pulled out her own chair, placed her serviette in her lap and immediately filled her glass with red wine. She kept the bottle next to her, knowing she'd need a lot of it tonight. She sensed Xenophilius' anger, but couldn't figure out why. What have I done to him?
Xenophilius entered a few minutes later and flopped into his chair. He removed a silver flask from his robe pocket and took a long swig. He began filling his plate with food, not bothering to take one look at Narcissa.
Like her first date, an awkward silence engulfed the room. Narcissa attempted to read his mind, but couldn't break through the mental blocks that he held in place. His ability impressed her for she was a rather great Legilimens. After all, she'd learned from the best. Her curiosity rose. What could he possibly be hiding?
"What happened to my Luna?"
Narcissa's eyes widened. Her fork slipped and hit her plate with a loud clang. He shot her a nasty glare that sent shivers down her spine. Goosebumps formed on her pale flesh, and she shifted in her seat.
"What happened to my Luna?" he demanded again, raising his voice.
"I don't know," she whispered back, becoming more and more afraid as the seconds passed.
"You do know!" He slapped his hand on the table causing Narcissa to jump in her seat. "You do know! You were there the whole damn time, weren't you? Tell me! Tell me! Was she raped? Was she tortured?"
"I don't know." Narcissa hung her head and made sure her mental blocks were in place, lest he attempted to read her mind.
"You are a liar!" Xenophilius roared, pointing his finger at her. "You were one of them, weren't you?"
Narcissa, enraged at his accusation, slammed her silverware against her plate and stomped over to him.
"Look!" she demanded, rolling up the sleeve of her dress. She shoved her unmarked forearm at him. "I was never one of them," she spat.
Xenophilius' stare immediately softened as he stared at the pristine flesh before him. He'd been so sure. After all, she'd kept their company and sheltered them in the Manor.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know," he muttered, turning his eyes to the hardwood floor.
"It's fine." Narcissa walked back to her seat and took a large sip of wine to calm her raging nerves.
"You really don't know?" he asked once more, his tone softer.
Narcissa shook her head, hoping he'd drop it. The truth will destroy him.
"If you remember, will you tell me?" he pleaded. She nodded, unwilling to answer his request with a bold-faced lie.
"Xenophilius, I'm very sorry about what happened to you daughter."
Narcissa's soft tone and even softer look caught his attention. His head snapped up, and his green eyes locked with hers. She sighed, relieved to see his anger begin to fade. He mumbled an incoherent response, which she chose to ignore.
"You have to understand that I did whatever I needed to do to keep my family safe. Please, Xenophilius. You, out of anyone should understand that." He nodded, seemingly satisfied with her answer.
Another silence filled the room, but both parties welcomed it for it allowed them to clear their heads.
"Can we try this again?" Xenophilius gave her a small smile, hoping he hadn't angered her with his silly accusation.
"Of course." Narcissa leaned forward and placed a hand over his. His eyes widened, and he flinched at the contact. He thought to pull away, but kept his hand under hers, enjoying its softness and warmth. It'd been thirteen long years since he'd been in the company of a woman. He had no idea how to act, let alone what to say.
"Thank you," he breathed, losing himself in the depths of her azure irises. He let his eyes linger on the intricate lace sequins that adorned the bodice of her dress. The fabric clung to her beautiful breasts. He wondered for a moment if they were as soft as her hand. What is wrong with you? His face flushed, and he quickly averted his gaze, hoping she hadn't caught him leering at her.
"So… you've finally left the git?" Oh shite, Xenophilius thought, slapping his forehead. You really are something!
Much to his surprise, she laughed.
"Yes… yes, I've left the git," she confirmed. "So, tell me about The Quibbler," she encouraged, not wanting to discuss her husband.
"… So bloody hard to find, but I know they exist. We looked for them once in Sweden. Such a pretty place! We'd love to go back…" Xenophilius prattled on about the elusive Crumple-Horned Snorkack.
He'd made it his life's mission to find one. Narcissa hadn't a clue why. Nor did she care. She nodded, feigning interest in whatever he said. She interjected his babbling with a few "yeses" and "tell me mores". Obviously, Crumple-Horned Snorkacks weren't real, but she wasn't about to burst his bubble.
And so, with the help of Firewhisky and wine, they pushed through the initial awkwardness and made it through dinner without anymore altercations.
"Walk with me," Narcissa interrupted him before he could get into too much detail about some plant he'd discovered in the woods by his home.
They'd just finished dessert, and she couldn't take it anymore. He dominated the conversation, hardly letting her get a word in. Granted, she didn't mind. She'd rather not have him know the details of her personal life.
"Oh, it's quite alright… I think I'll just go home now," Xenophilius declined, shaking his head. A walk in her garden wasn't on the agenda. He signed up for dinner, and dinner only.
"Please," she asked again, forming her lips into a pout. Xenophilius' trousers tightened, and he remained glued to his chair. He shifted a little, desperate to think of something else. "I want to show you something."
She rose and strode toward the door. She extended her hand to him. His body betrayed him, and he caved. He took it and allowed her to lead him to the majestic garden behind her flat.
Narcissa shivered as the wind howled. She inched closer to his larger frame, seeking comfort in his warmth. He noticed and offered her his coat.
"Thank you," she murmured, pulling it on and wrapping it around her waist. She could have cast a heating charm, but she sincerely appreciated his gesture.
His coat smelled of his cologne, a blend of sandalwood and spices. She shivered again and was well aware that it wasn't due to the cold. The wind whipped again, causing the material of his shirt to cling to his chest, which was surprisingly muscular. She tore her gaze away, shook her head and led them deeper into the garden. They finally stopped in front of a row of low bushes.
Xenophilius gasped as his eyes took in the orange radish-like fruit hanging upside down from the low bushes.
"Dirigible plums!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands. "You know of them?"
"Yes," she breathed. A light blush coloured her pale face. "I'll let you in on a little secret."
"What's that?"
"They enhance one's ability to accept the extraordinary, right?" She stepped closer to him.
"Yes." She was too damn close. He could count all her long eyelashes, and her sweet perfume filled his nose. He wanted to push her away, but his body wouldn't move.
"I used to eat them."
"That's perfectly fine. They're edible. They're rather good slathered in chocolate..." His face reddened.
"I ate one every day when I lived in the Manor with Him," she began. "I'd eat one and wish for the extraordinary, something different… something more peaceful that what had become my normal," she confessed, gazing at the grass underneath her stilettos.
Xenophilius' heart felt as if it was about to explode. Perhaps he actually had more in common with this woman than he'd expected. The light went off in his head. He finally understood. Her slim shoulders shook, and he pulled her closer to him.
"Is that why you did it?"
She nodded and turned her head away. He reached out, cupped her chin and turned her head to face his. He pressed his body against hers, relieved when she didn't back away.
"For what it's worth, I think you did a very brave thing," he whispered. "Two very brave things." He noticed a teardrop forming in the corner of her eye, and he brushed it away. "Don't cry, Narcissa," he murmured.
She sighed and tilted her head at him. Her pale pink lips parted slightly as if inviting him to kiss her. He bent down, slowly at first, giving her plenty of time to turn away. She stayed. Encouraged, he inched closer, feeling her breath ghosting against his lips. He placed a soft, chaste kiss on her lips, closing the distance between them. She moaned softly, pulled him closer and deepened the kiss.
The following morning, Narcissa awoke tangled in her silk sheets. She glanced down at her body, covered with telltale bite marks and bruises. He'd been a bit aggressive, but she hadn't minded much. In fact, she rather enjoyed his attentions. She replayed the scenes from the previous evening and early morning. She blushed and shook her head. What is wrong with you? Seducing the Weasley boy was one thing, but allowing Xenophilius Lovegood to have his way with her wasn't. That right belonged to another man. Used to, she reminded herself.
Shite, she swore, noticing the time. She was already an hour late to brunch with Draco. She dressed quickly, not wanting him to catch her in a state of undress if he decided to stop by her flat.
On the way out, she noticed a small piece of parchment propped up against the nightstand on the side of the bed where he'd slept. Her fingers shook slightly as she opened it.
I forgive you.