Warning: This story contains violence, sexual abuse, strong language, and steamy scenes. Please read with caution.
I am not J.K.Rowling, I do not own the Harry Potter/Wizarding World.
I will try to post regularly – a new chapter every couple of weeks or so.
If you decide to stick around in anticipation for the whole story I just want to thank you, truly.
For now, please enjoy what I've written so far.
Thank you for reading :)
_
When I was a little girl, most of my time was spent in our attic. It wasn't ideal in the least. It was a drab place, with only a small window to let in the outside light. All I wanted was an answer – to know why my mother insisted on stowing me away in that dank old part of the house so often, but she never would tell me.
All I knew was that I was to wait up there until she came back to get me and to hide if the house-elf ever came up there looking for me.
I tried asking my sisters about this, hoping they had known something I didn't, but they too claimed to not know. Sometimes I'd ask mother if they could join me, as to give me a bit of company, but she always declined that request.
It was okay for a time. I was kept blissfully unaware of what was truly going on. I was supplied with toys, books and such to keep me occupied. Once I asked for a radio to listen to my favorite songs while I spent my time alone. My mother said that it would give my hiding spot away, as if this was some sort of ridiculously drawn out game of hide-and-seek.
Staying in that attic wasn't the worst of it. The headaches started quite early on as well. Not a headache in the traditional sense – this was incapacitating pain, and I often saw flashes of myself, as odd as it sounds, sitting in the attic while there. It was as if I was viewing myself from outside of my body. It was truly jarring, especially being so young.
The only thing I could do was close my eyes and put my mind somewhere else as best I could. I learned later, from a spell book I had picked up from the library, what the head pains truly were.
As a young child, none of it made sense. The hiding, the pain, the suspicions behavior from my parents. Looking back now, and even as a teen, I feel like a fool for not seeing the obvious signs. But I was just that, a child, and all children are fools.
I never made my mother aware of the knowledge I had gained. She worked so hard to shield me from my father's wicked machinations. I didn't want her to feel her effort was all for not.
My mother was truly selfless to the highest degree. Taking my place in my father's bedroom to spare me from defilement.
She kept me innocent. She kept me pristine. She kept me pure – right to the very end of her life.
And for that, I am forever grateful.
~~~~~~~
Somerset, England ~ 1973
Narcissa had long forgotten what it felt like to be safe.
Even within the walls of her own home, she remained on guard and very much on edge.
She wasn't safe anywhere while in that house. Not even within the privacy of her own room, laying in her own bed, was she safe from him.
It had been this way for too long, so long in fact, that retreating to the attic and hiding amongst the clutter was now a routine practice whenever she was made to stay in that infernal house.
Despite the established grandeur of Black Manor, the attic was a noticeably decrepit place with wooden floors that shrieked, boxes of unused decorum and forgotten belongings. Old furniture sat in piles throughout the room and further crowded the space.
Currently, Narcissa sat in the corner of the room – her back pressed to the wall and her knees brought up to her chest with her arms encircling them in a comforting embrace.
Then, the pain started.
An instant sharp and deep pain filled her head. It had gotten progressively more intense over the years. Narcissa squeezed her eyes shut as the tears immediately began pour down her cheeks.
As always, she did her best to keep her mind blank. Every so often, flashes of her, sitting nestled in the dark corner of the attic flashed in her mind. He was trying to find her again, as he always tried to. The pain continued to rip through her brain as the flashes became longer lasting, giving the viewer more time to figure out just where she was.
Normally she could keep him out, hard as it was, but not this time.
Weather her mind was weaker in this frightened state or he had taken more time to refine his legilimency skills was unclear, but Narcissa feared the worst. She feared that she had allowed him enough time to findout her location.
Then, as soon as it started, the pain evaporated.
Her vision remained blurred for only a moment before she was able to focus on her only light source. A decent sized circular window let in the light of the moon which beamed in to the room and shined onto the exposed rafters that supported the high wooden ceiling.
Narcissa kept her ears tuned into her surroundings as her eyes adjusted. Every little noise was of concern to her – every creak of the floor, every gust of wind along the side of the house, every little thing nearly set her off.
Every so often, a cooling charm would leave the tip of her wand, soothing her as she sat wrapped up in her winter pelisse. Narcissa was content on her choice of apparel, despite the season. The overcoat would serve as an extra buffer between her body and the one she was desperate to keep away from.
Despite her discomfort, she actually found herself falling asleep – eyes fluttering closed as she rested her head back against the wall. She had been here, awake all night.
A rattling startled her alert. She couldn't see the door to the attic, but the sound of the doorknob clattering indicated that someone was trying to enter.
She did her best to keep her wits about her and her breathing calm as she listened to the doorknob shake almost violently. The sound was soon replaced by a loud crashing. Heavy thuds began to beat against the thick oak of the door repeatedly.
Narcissa was shaking now. She withdrew her wand. The faint moonlight shined off of the glossy black surface of her ebony wood wand. She readied numerous spells at the tip of her tongue – in preparation for when she would inevitably have to fight.
The crashes continued as the splitting and splintering wood sounded loudly. The door was starting to give way under the brute force of the person on the other side.
Narcissa let out a small whimper and clutched at her long blonde hair.
He knew she was in there. She could tell.
Narcissa shrank into herself as the beating against the door raged on for a few more moments until it stopped abruptly. She held her breath as she waited for something to give.
Suddenly, the sound of a whirl and pop came from outside the room. It sound as if the the person behind the door had…disapparated?
Her suspicions would be confirmed only seconds later as the same noise sounded from somewhere closer – somewhere in the attic.
Heavy footsteps began pacing around the room. The white glow of the Lumos charm visible from above the tall stacks of wears scattered around the room.
"I know you're in here," a deep voice said in a low growl, "We needn't play games, 'Cissy. Come on out."
Narcissa froze, her body trembling with terror as she watched the light slowly float around the room accompanied by the footsteps. There was nowhere for her to run. With stashed clutter all around her, she had only the way toward her peruser if she wanted to make it out on foot.
At this point, her only option was disillusionment. She may have finished her final year at Hogwarts, but her failure to pass her her apparition test had left her without the most valuable means of getting around in a pinch.
Casting nonverbally, Narcissa hid herself with the charm. She wasn't completely invisible, but thanks to the darkness of the attic, appeared to be nothing more than a trick of the light.
Taking a deep and quiet breath, she rose from the floor. She could see more now. The top of her pursuer's head was not visible over the stacks of clutter, but the light coming off of his wand was within her sight. She had only the old wooden floor to deal with now. One wrong step on a particularly squeaky floorboard, and should give herself away.
She was smart to remove her shoes whenever going up there. She owned no flats – even her school shoes had a considerable heel on them, and the clicks they made when striking the floor would be like a beacon to her precise location. If only pureblood fashion called for less ornamental footwear.
The floor was familiar to her. Narcissa had mapped out for the most part what boards would squeak and give if stepped on. She had unfortunately been given years to memorize the layout of the attic.
Narcissa was fortunate. The floor boards she treaded across stayed quiet enough as she carried on being light on her feet. She did worry about splinters, however. Her stockings alone wouldn't protect her feet from that.
Her eyes shifted rapidly between looking where she was walking to where the intruder was currently lurking. The air was tense and impossibly quiet as she tiptoed her way toward the door. When she spotted it, she was taken aback. The door was battered badly, caved-in at the center with jagged bits of splintering wood protruding from it.
She continued on, only to then feel a tickle along her ankle. She looked down, spying an eight-legged critter that was unwelcomely resting on her leg.
Narcissa forced herself not to scream. Arachnids terrified her, but this spider wasn't currently the biggest threat in the attic after all. She picked up her leg, shaking it a bit to try and knock the little guy off. When that failed, Narcissa swallowed thickly before attempting to swat the spider off with her hand, only for it to jump onto to her arm.
A tiny gasp escaped her and she squeezed her eyes shut. She turned around. The man was nearing the spot she had been the whole night, near the opposite side of the attic. A good decision, moving from that spot.
"Get off me, you little bastard!" Narcissa cried in a whisper most quiet. She not only fretted her father finding her, but also hearing her curse, which was strictly forbidden amongst her and her two sisters, for vulgar language was for designated for men's usage only.
Narcissa only grew more agitated when the creature failed to come off as she desperately flailed her arm. In one last sharp movement, she sent the spider hurling away toward one side of the attic, but not before her arm accidentally collided with an old teacup that rested near her on an used wooden dresser.
Her heart nearly stopped beating as she watched the fragile cup fall and smash into bits onto the floor.
The silence following the breaking of the cup was deafening.
She turned around and felt the blood leave her face. It was as if the man was staring at her directly, as if he could see through her little attempt at invisibility. The two just stared at each other more a moment, both remaining as still as statues the way prey and predator do when they first spot each other.
As the man raised his wand, Narcissa lunged for the door. The revealing charm radiated through the air, ceasing the Narcissa's disillusionment charm and exposing her once more.
The man casted another spell in her direction. Before she could get to the door, the once forgotten articles that sat close-by swiftly swept in front of her path. With her exit barred off, Narcissa spun around before immediately being grabbed and put to the floor.
"Gotcha'", he said with a smug smile.
His face was twisted into something evil, something sinister as he looked down at her with a demonic sense of victory.
"No! Papa, please. Don't do this!" Narcissa cried, her blue eyes going wide with terror as she struggled under the weight of her own father. He had both of her arms pinned down and straddled her.
Cygnus Black's dark-brown eyes were filled with lust. He let go of one of Narcissa's wrists and brought his hand over to begin working on opening her pelisse. With one arm now free, Narcissa began swinging at him. All of her hits were feeble however.
"Ahh, how cute. Keep hitting me if you want, I don't even feel it," Cygnus drawled out, "Now, let's get you out of these clothes."
He struggled not with her pelisse the way she had hoped. The thick overcoat came undone the moment he pulled at the front of it. The buttons flew and scattered across the room as her father ripped the garment open – revealing Narcissa's dress.
The bodice of Narcissa's dress fit snug to her body and was fastened with laces at the front. Cygnus need only give one small pull to the perfectly tied bow at the front and…
Her dress came open, exposing her cleavage to him. Narcissa's corset barred him full view of her breasts, but he relished in the sight of her ample bosom that spilled over the top of the garment. Cygnus began roughly massaging one of her breasts with one hand while keeping her pinned with the other.
Narcissa began crying and squirming even more – a bit from the horror of it all, and a bit from the pain of being, quite literally, manhandled. Her voice became rasped and dry sounding as she pleaded with him to stop.
"Quit squirming! I've waited long enough!" He said coldly.
Narcissa turned away from him. She couldn't reach her wand and was in no way strong enough to push him off of her. All she could do was escape to somewhere pleasant in her mind while the savagery took place.
In her attempt to distract herself, Narcissa saw a small framed picture half-sticking out of a box nearer to her. A picture of the family during a picnic, her mother was still alive then.
Her father was still busy using one hand to caress her skin while he laid kisses up and down her exposed chest, leaving one of Narcissa's hands still free. She reached for the picture, lifted it out of the box and collided it directly into her father's face.
"Argh!! God dammit!!" He howled as both of his hands were brought up to his face in pain – shards of glass lodged into his face.
Narcissa sat up while he was distracted and shoved him backwards into a pile of boxes with a loud crash. She raced over to where she thought her wand had landed and picked it up with a sigh of relief.
After undoing the lock charm she placed onto the door, Narcissa exited the attic and began sprinting down the stares to the lower floors. Narcissa did her best to hold her open dress together with her hands as she ran down the lavish corridors of the manor.
The skirt of her dress billowed in the wind, the ample layers of frilly petticoats that gave her dress volume swished around her ankles as she ran.
Narcissa had descended countless staircases and traversed an endless amount of hallways before stopping to catch her breath. She entered a room, large and grand in design with a large desk at the center and various cabinets around the room. Her father's study.
Not the most ideal place to stop, but her lungs were burning for oxygen. She ran over to the desk and crouched down behind it. With shaky fingers, Narcissa began refastening the laces of her bodice – not an easy feat given how intricate the lacing was. She could hardly manage to grasp the laces between her fingers with her adrenaline pumping through her body so fiercely.
"Good heavens, Child. What has you so distraught?" A woman's voice asked with heightened concern.
Narcissa looked to the wall. A golden gilded portrait of Irma Black, her grandmother, hung proudly amongst a few others. The beautiful dark-skinned witch seemed genuinely concerned for her granddaughter's safety.
"Shhh! He'll hear you!" Narcissa pleaded.
"Who will?" Irma asked in a puzzled tone. "Is there an intruder in the house? Where is your father?"
Narcissa threw a weary glance toward the door. "It is father! He's not well!"
Between her whimpers and soft cries, Narcissa's words were almost completely incoherent.
Irma sighed dismissively and rolled her eyes. As if there was some sort of inconvenience brought into her.
"…She's in the study, son hurry!" Irma yelled.
"What?! What are you doing?!" Shut up you old crone!" Narcissa ordered, "He'll find me and…he'll—"
"I know what he'll do, child," Irma said casually, "He's been such a good father to you all these years. I'd say it's the least you could do. She's in here, Cygnus! Hurry!"
"Please! Please, stop it! Please—", Narcissa was in tears, though she was ignored.
"Hurry up, Son, before she runs off!"
Narcissa's mouth fell at this blatant betrayal. Soon, her father's heavy footsteps began growing closer. She turned toward the portrait with contemptuous glare. Irma held her head up high, seemingly feeling no remorse for what she was doing.
"Bitch!" Narcissa spat at her before casting a vicious spell toward the painting, exploding it aggressively.
Undoubtedly her loud spell would attract him further. She thought about jumping from the window, but being on the third floor, the risk of a broken one leg or both was much too great.
Narcissa hopped up and head back to the doorway. Perhaps a quick peek around would have been helpful, because she came face to face with her father just outside the door.
"Come now, Cissy," her father said, a wicked grin forming on his tan face. "I will be most gentle with you, I promise."
His display of aggression in the attic showed otherwise. And as if she was afraid solely of him being rough. How dense of him.
She scoffed with disgust, using Accio to rip the long, wine-colored rug from under his feet. Cygnus tripped backwards on to the floor with a great thud as Narcissa continued on with her escape.
The corridors were lined with portraits as well, most of them not being too noteworthy, just the distant ancestors of the Black family. The commotion had awoken most of the portraits, causing Narcissa to receive a confusing mix of reactions.
"Have you any idea what time it is?!"
"I may be dead, but I still prefer to get my beauty sleep in!"
"Ah, Cygnus finally made his move I take it."
"Where is she off to is such a rush?"
"Get her, Cygnus! Maybe she'll be able to give you a son! Not like that disappointment you married!"
"Leave my baby alone!"
The last voice caught her attention. Narcissa turn to see a beautiful enchanted portrait of her mother. It was on her parents wedding day. Druella and Cygnus Black were standing together, and from the way she looked, Druella, in her beautiful black wedding dress, seemed to be directing her outrage at her portrait companion as well as the real man that was currently pursuing her youngest daughter.
The painted version of Cygnus, dressed in his best formal robes threw a hand over his wife's mouth and glared at her threateningly. "Shut up, you wretch! Let me have this!"
Narcissa's heart ached for her mother's painted likeness. She wanted to blast her father with fire for his words, but knew she couldn't burn the portrait, for her mother's likeness too would parish.
Their game of cat and mouse last through lengthy corridors and winding stairs. Glass vases and granite busts family members were tossed and thrown in an attempt to hinder her father's efforts.
Narcissa eventually ended up in the family's main drawing room, in which a magnificent floor-to-ceiling window displayed the expansive garden that surrounded the main house. From the window she saw the lush, grassy archway that led off of the property.
Once making it to the tall French doors at the back of the house, Narcissa drew them open and dashed out into the garden. The cobblestone footpath was rough on her feet as she ran. Minus the horrific circumstances she found herself in, the garden was as beautiful as ever.
It was a wonderful sight. Flowers of only the brightest and most vibrant varieties filled the area and bloomed sublimely, Excellent stone fountains spewed patterns of water into the air, and a large, ornate wooden gazebo sat in the center of it all.
A melody of honking caught her attention. Narcissa glanced over to a group of bright golden flowers. Honking Daffodils, her mother's favorite. The pretty sight distracted Narcissa enough for her to accidentally step onto a stray thorny vine.
"Ahh!" She yelped as she halted to cradle her foot.
Narcissa inspected the damage. The thorns had managed to slash her stockings and gouge deep holes into the bottom of her foot.
What was she to do? Should couldn't well keep running on a wounded foot through the dirt and grime, she'd get an infection.
With ease, Narcissa removed the thigh-high stocking from her leg and wrapped it around her foot. She pulled it tight, wincing as the pain increased as the tighter she pulled.
She placed her weight back down on her injured foot, the pain was there, but bearable – bearable enough to press on. The exit was in sight. The tall archway was lush with green leaves and trimmed to perfection.
Some violent noises came from behind her. Narcissa turned around. Black Manor loomed over her like a villainous hideout in the night. The sounds of furniture overturning and objects smashing into walls was audible from where she stood in the garden.
"WHERE ARE YOU?!" Her father bellowed madly from inside the house. "YOU SELFISH GIRL!"
Narcissa gasped, her father was dangerously angry now. She had to continue on – to where? She didn't know, but she had to move – fast.
The feeling of freedom as she passed under the archway was unparalleled. Her first hurdle had been cleared, but now she had the forest and all of its inhabitants to deal with.
Black Manor was a chateau, beautiful and enormous in size, fixed in the middle of a large clearing deep within a forest. While the property had charms in place to protect it against threats, the same could not be said for anyone venturing off into the wilderness.
The tall trees we dense and blocked out most of the moonlight from the moment she entered the forest. Narcissa winced and cringed at the feeling of the rough woodland floor pressing into her injured foot, though the distant howling of wolves were enough to pull her attention away from it soon enough.
The exit from the garden faced due south, and south she needed to go if she was to make it to the closet wizarding village. Perhaps someone would help her there – maybe even provide her with some floo powder.
The entrance to the forest was lost now, only darkness surrounded her as she continued to weave in and out between trees. Spindly branches slashed at her face and tore at her dress. Low shrubbery cut into her legs through her stockings.
The pain pierced into her head again. A blurry image of the archway leading out of the garden and the forest edge played in her mind.
Damn. Now he had seen that she left the house. Narcissa had no choice but to run.
All of this running, it was too much. She hadn't kept track of how far she had gotten, there was no way to.
Eventually, after making it a great deal into the forest, she felt it safe to take a much needed break.
Narcissa resigned herself to taking a seat on the ground with her back resting against a rock. Her ancestors would be rolling in their graves to know that a daughter born into the noble and most ancient house of Black was seated on the filthy ground. Even her mother would have words against it, forgiving as she was.
Her breaths had calmed and her heart slowed back to normal as she sat there feeling overwhelmingly grateful to be rid of her father. Thank Merlin for that portrait in the attic being so readily available, else she would have still been there, being used and abused by the one man that was supposed to protect her unconditionally. Thankfully he was still looking for her in the house, surely he didn't know that she—
Some snarling from a distance drew her attention. It sounded as if it had multiple sources – a group perhaps. Between the barks and growls, the sound of a man grunting followed by what sounded like spells being flung about.
Curious, she picked herself up and turned about the direction of the noise. The forest was lit up from a short distance away. Casting disillusionment again, Narcissa scurried toward the source of the commotion.
A short distance later, the scene became much clearer. To her shock, Narcissa witnessed her father, he must have realized she had fled the manor, fighting off a pack of Wolves. She and her sisters were always forbidden from entering the forest, the place was littered with vicious creatures, or so her parents always said.
Cygnus was dueling fiercely, throwing around his wand and connecting devastating spells at the wolves as she showed their teeth at him aggressively.
Still hidden under her charm, Narcissa glanced toward her left, a small cave opening placed on the side of a small hill. It must have been their den, and her father had unknowingly stumbled onto their territory.
As Cygnus threw a powerful hex at one of the wolves another came from behind him, lunged forward and latched on to his arm, nearly dragging him down to the ground.
"Argh!" Cygnus shouted as she blasted the creature away with a harsh spell. "Fucking mongrels!"
It was now that she was presented with a choice: help him or leave him.
As she watched him battle with the wolves, she couldn't help but feel the urge to come to his aid. This was her father, the one that provided her with nothing but the finest luxuries in the world her whole life. He had always been generous, she felt that, but perhaps her safety was more important now.
Narcissa chose to leave him. Her father was a powerful wizard and a very strong man, he could handle himself, and it seemed like her was faring just fine.
As she turned around, she came face to face with a wolf. For a moment, she thought they were staring at each other, but the, she realized, she was invisible. The wolf was in fact snarling menacingly through her and at her father.
Cygnus glowered at the wolf, aiming his wand sharply and cursing, "Avada—"
Only this spell wouldn't connect with the wolf as Cygnus expected, it would be a direct hit to his daughter. A spell that could not be undone, no matter how much he lived to regret it.
Narcissa reviled herself and launched her father against a tree with a stunning spell before the killing curse could finish leaving his lips.
She spun around back toward the wolf and did the same to it. Cygnus was sitting slumped up against the tree trunk while the wolf was flung up against a large rock. Both seemed to by knocked out cold, until her father sat up from the ground, rubbed the back of his head and stood to face her.
"There you are," he said evilly.
Her fight or flight kicking in, Narcissa turned to run. Then, she was caught. Something coiled around her ankle and yanked her to the ground. Narcissa winced and looked down. The magical grip of Carpe Retractum held on to her ankle and traced all the way back to the tip of her father's wand.
"Gotcha'" Cygnus mocked her, grinning as he reeled her in toward him.
Narcissa clawed and grasped at the ground as her father pulled her in towards him. She cried and pleaded as her well-manicured nails ripped up the grass and tore at the ground. Her fingers only left a trail of claw marks as she was helplessly dragged by the ankle.
The loose pebbles and sticks scraped against her legs as she was pulled along the ground, ripping further into her stockings and cutting her legs.
She continued to struggle before an animalistic growl followed by a harsh impact sounded from behind her, and the dragging stopped.
Narcissa looked to see that the last standing wolf had also gathered itself and made to attack her father. The two were more so wrestling on the ground as Cygnus' wand had been thrown upon getting knocked back by the wolf. Narcissa looked to her ankle again, the spell had been broken, and she was now free once more.
"Narcissa!" Her father managed as he fought off the vicious animal. "My wand!"
In her defense, she had no idea where it was. Her father's wand had vanished amongst the fallen twigs and foliage. There was no point in trying aimlessly to track it down. She thought she saw a glimmer coming off of her father's polished wand, but was in no haste to return it to him.
Giving him one last look or disdain, Narcissa took off, leaving her father to fight with nothing but his own strength. Which, given her father's build, she felt rather okay in doing so.
The sound of struggling fade as she pressed on. It wasn't too long before she came to a small village just on the other side of the forest.
A dirt path marked the beginning of the village limits. Coming up on the town, the smell of what Narcissa could only describe as poverty filled her nose. It smelled dirty and cheap, just as it looked.
Narcissa remembered the way she and her sisters would be escorted by their parents through the streets as they visited the local shoppes, with Bellatrix and Andromeda holding on to one of each their mother's hands while their father insisted on escorting her. It was chilling to think that now she understood why.
Most of the dilapidated buildings were dark on the inside however, the lack of light in their windows suggesting that the residents were either still asleep or vacant. There was one though, at the end of the road. It appeared to be a pub of sorts, this was impression given the small silhouettes of people that seemed to be sitting down with mugs in their hands.
"Oi, Blondie!" a strange man's voice called to her. "How much for two hours? I have a room at this here inn."
He sounded very intoxicated. Narcissa looked to her left to see a man standing in the shadows near a building that he was gesturing to. Just a filthy bloke with a bottle of alcohol in his hand looking for some 'paid entertainment'.
"A bit early in the morning for that, don't you think?" She mocked him, "Perhaps that should be cup of coffee on your hand instead of booze?"
"Ooo, witty, you are," he commented with a snicker," And a pretty voice. Wouldn't mind hearing you yellin' out my name."
She scoffed and ignored his crude offer, sticking her nose up at him and focusing on the building ahead.
Hey! Where are you going?" He called out.
The vulgar man continued toward her, growing increasingly irate as she ignored him.
"I know you hear me, you slattern!" He shouted, "Aren't you whores supposed to put out?! It's your one job, innit?!"
Narcissa stopped dead in her tracks, spinning around and raising her wand at him – "Oscausi."
The spell hit the man's lips and fused together, turning from the normal pink hue to the same shade as the rest of his skin – his lips had completely vanished. This didn't stop him, however.
As he tried to mumble through his sealed mouth, he too raised his wand and sent a spell hurling toward her that exploded a set of wooden barrels that sat near an abandoned kiosk.
Narcissa picked herself up and countered him, sending him flying back into a wall with an anger fueled Stupefy. The man lay against the brick wall of a building. The clang of metal rubbish bins was loud as he collided into them and fell limp, seemingly unconscious as he stirred slightly.
With that, she continued on toward the establishment that she had her eyes set on.
She made it to the door of the pub when the pain started again. Her head pulsed and throbbed with agonizing pain as her father bombarded his way into her mind, demanding access to her thoughts.
"Stop it!" She begged in a whisper, "Get out!"
No response.
"I know what magic this is. Get out of my head!"
There was a bit more silence, as if there was a hesitation to answer on her father's part, but then, she heard his voice clearly in her mind.
"Ah, cleaver girl," Cygnus' voice mocked her, "Pity, I was enjoying having the advantage of the unknown."
"Get out!" Narcissa half-yelled, the pain was nearly about to bring her to her knees, "Get the hell out!"
"Language!" Cygnus' voice roared, "I could slap you for that! Oh well – when I find you, I suppose. Made it to Hillcroft, did you? Filthy little hamlet. No matter – I'll shall be there shortly."
His words sounded more threatening than anything else.
Narcissa's body shook as she fought his advances off. Shielding her mind and throwing him out of her mental space once more. She gathered herself before practically barging into the pub, rewarding her with confused glances from the few patrons that were enjoying their early morning beverages.
The smell of cheap cologne and whisky practically smacked her in the face and filled her nose, clearly her the man's choice of beverage from earlier was common practice here.
Some of the customers at in small groups at tables and some sat alone. Either way, whispers began to fly about Narcissa's disheveled state. Weather they knew who she was or not, they clearly held their own opinions about the way she looked in this moment.
Narcissa was still standing in the doorway. She held on to the door frame with one hand to help prop herself against it. She was so tired. The first thing that caught her attention was the fireplace at the back of the building. Tall and wide open, perfect for floo travel.
With her hopes up higher than before, she began walking toward the fireplace.
"Rough night I take it?" A witch asked from a table Narcissa passed. She just ignored her.
There was a soothing air about the place. Warm and welcoming. It was peacefully quiet, apart from the slight conversations going on amongst the patrons. The fireplace was passed the bar top where a man was busy wiping down beer mugs.
Narcissa spotted him and hurried over.
"Excuse me?" She asked.
The bartender turned around and immediately looked dreadfully concerned for her. "Who can I send for?"
"Im sorry?" Narcissa asked, puzzled at his instant desire to help.
"Who can I send for to help you?" He asked set down the mug he was cleaning," An Auror? A healer?
"Well – I, uh…" she looked up from her clothes and behind her shoulder with caution, afraid her father was near. "Floo powder. Might you be able to spare some?"
The other customers leaned in from the seats at their tables in an attempt to hear the conversation.
"Miss, what's happened to you?" The man asked, "From the looks of it, I'd think you were just attacked. I can deal with the sorry sod that did this to you. I'm not afraid of a fight."
She new he meant well, and wanted to help. But her father was not a man to be trifled with, especially not when his motives were driven by madness and lust.
"He's not here, at least I don't think," Narcissa said while taking another glance toward the front door of the pub.
"It's not safe for a girl to be wandering around at night. Where are you coming from? Is your home close by? I don't think I've seen you around this village before." The Bartender pressed her for details the way a concerned parent would.
Narcissa shook her head and wrinkled her nose in disgust, "I don't live here, and too be honest, I'm not sure how anyone could. Home is actually the place I'm trying to get away from."
"Where are you headed?" He asked.
Narcissa simply shrugged her shoulders. "I'll have to figure that bit out."
Tears began to slip from her eyes as she realized that there really was no safehouse for her. Her point A to point B travels lacked the latter.
"Here, sit – please," the bartender said as he walked around the counter and pulled out a stool for her. "I noticed you had a bit of a limp to your walk."
"Yes, I – I fell," Narcissa answered shyly.
The man raised an eyebrow. "Down the side of a cliff or what? You clothing's in shambles, and you're all cut up!"
Narcissa huffed impatiently, "I am aware of how I look! If you want to help me – a bit of floo powder would suffice!"
Her heated tone caught the attention of the few drunken customers nearby. They leaned in and spun around on their bar stools blatantly to watch.
"What's that lass on about, Hamish? One of the eavesdropping customers demanded, "You knock 'er up or something?"
Offended by the inquiry, Narcissa turned and glared at the customer that shouted out such a vulgar comment.
"Excuse me!?" She said, wholly offended to be thought to be pregnant by such a lowly server.
"Oh, good on ya," the customer changed his tune entirely to a pleasant one. "She's a pretty one. Though, if it's support for a child you're after, he ain't got much to offer you . Scrubbing tables and pouring beers doesn't pay too well, as you might imagine."
The bartender rolled his eyes, "Never without a snarky comment, that one. I do have some floo powder in the back that I can grab, if you're sure that's all you need."
"It is," said Narcissa assuredly.
Hamish gave a nod that seemed unsatisfied with her answer yet willing to do as she asked. He left and disappeared around the wall, leaving her to roam the tavern for a moment.
Naturally, she glanced toward the doorway. Next to it, plastered signs and articles of a wanted group. Narcissa was too far away to read the articles, but could see the picture moving clearly. A group of dark wizards seen casting a few finishing spells on an unsuspecting town before disapparating away in streams of black smoke.
Part of this chilled her. No one exactly knew what this elusive group wanted, or why they were causing such chaos amongst the wizarding world. For all she knew, no one was safe. Even with the families amongst her own social class having provisions in place, safety did not seem to be guaranteed to anyone.
"Here we are," Hamish said as she brought over a small sack of powder as well as a vile of green liquid.
"Wiggenweld potion?" Narcissa inquired.
Hamish nodded as he handed her the items. "A temporary help. You seem rather – well – banged up. Hope you intend on flooing straight to St. Mungo's. Wiggenweld can right injuries, but not all, should they be severe enough."
"Thank y—" she started.
Then, the door to the pub pushed open…
Time slowed as Narcissa turned to see her father lumbering in, his eyes narrowed and set directly on her. Cygnus' face was slashed, from the glass earlier in the attic, but also probably from his encounter with the wolves. His robes were torn some, and he walked with a certain determination as he went toward them.
"Oh god," Narcissa whimpered as she shot up from the chair.
"That's him, isn't it?" Hamish assumed before taking a stance in front of Narcissa. "The bloke that attacked you?"
The others within the pub watch with intrigued faces as Cygnus stomped over to the bar top where the two other them stood.
"What seems to be the problem?" Hamish asked sternly.
Cygnus scoffed dismissively and reached for his daughters hand. Narcissa was quivering now, and recoiled as her father tried to grab her.
"She doesn't want to go with you, mate. You best leave her alone."
Cygnus sneered at the man, his tall stature shrouding both Hamish and Narcissa. "She's my daughter – she's coming with me."
"I don't care who she is in relation to you," Hamish declared, "You've clearly done something to frighten her – some father you are."
Cygnus' haughty smirk turned into a death glare. "Keep mouthing off and you'll get your wand broken and shoved up your arse. Now move!"
Hamish was shoved away easily, leaving Narcissa in her father's direct sights.
"Narcissa," Cygnus said, pointing to the ground where he stood. "Come."
But she didn't move. If anything, she backed away from him further.
Her father huffed, "I think I've been put through enough this morning, don't you? I think Perhaps I've earned my reward, don't you? Come. Here. Now!"
A terrible expression plastered itself on Hamish's face. It seemed he now understood the dynamic.
Then, the door to the pub barged open again.
"There you are! "The drunken man that Narcissa had fought with earlier yelled. "I'm not done with you yet, you little trollop!"
With everyone turned in the direction of the yelling man, Narcissa took advantage of the commotion to run to the fireplace with what she needed in hand.
"What did you call her?!" Cygnus roared and sent the unknown man flying back out the front door with a stunning spell.
Cygnus snapped his head back toward where his daughter should have been, but by now, she was just steps away from the fireplace.
"Hey!" Her father bellowed as he raised his wand. His Petrificus Totalus cast was blocked by a quick-reacting who threw himself in front of Cygnus with a perfectly timed Protego.
Narcissa used her magic to dowse the orange flames inside of the large stone fireplace and stepped in. With jittery hands, she grabbed some floo powder and looked up.
Her father and the Bartender were dueling ferociously. Spells flew between the pair as both used the wooden pillars and tables to shield themselves. Wooden chairs and tables exploded as their magic cracked around the room violently. Most of the patrons scattered and scrambled for the door to escape while a few decided to join the fight.
"Get the hell of out my way!" Cygnus shouted at them as he threw gnarly spells at his opponents and blocked their counters.
"Diagon Alley," Narcissa stammered to say.
Cygnus then glanced toward the fireplace and witnessed the floo powder headed for the dim and faded embers on the ground.
"No!" He shouted, "Don't—
But then, Narcissa was gone – swallowed up by the emerald flames and spat out into the Leaky Cauldron, a somewhat popular and quite dingy cafe at the edge of Diagon Alley. The scum of the Wizarding World fancied this place, or so she felt. With it's decaying wooden structure and grungy atmosphere, those cast out as misfits flocked here like moths to a flame. Pity Twilfit and Tattings didn't have a public access fireplace.
The place was mostly empty. Only a woman behind the counter and an enchanted mop bucket we're busy at work getting the place up and running for the breakfast hours.
She went to the front door and pushed it open, not realizing that she'd be greeted with the muggle world just in the other side. She knew it was instantly, automobiles and scooters lined the road and sidewalks while modern-looking structures towered over her.
Narcissa recoiled back into the Leaky Cauldron. She spun around see she had gathered a few stares from the employees of the shoppe who all looked away as soon as she spotted them.
Heading out of the back door, she found herself in a small courtyard. Narcissa glared at the high brick wall like an unwelcome obstacle. The tops of familiar stores were visible from behind the wall.
She withdrew her wand and waved it at the bricks, hoping to trigger some sort of reaction. Nothing happened.
She had seen walls like this, ones that required a sort of specific motion or pattern to be allowed to pass through.
Frowning with frustration, Narcissa had Bombarda on the tip of her tongue when a haggard old witch emerged from the cafe.
The woman tapped a certain set of bricks in order, causing the wall to part in the middle as the red bricks swiveled and curled outward. The older witch gave her a glance before hobbling off in the direction of Knockturn Alley, a fitting place given the way she looked.
Narcissa took a step out into the street. The early morning sunrise had beamed a warm glow of pinks and oranges down onto the sides of the still yet to be opened shoppes. Pretty as it was, this made her want to disappear into the shadows. She wanted to stay hidden as much as possible.
She locked her eyes onto a building at the end of the long street – tall, white and slightly twisted looking – Gringott's Bank.
Narcissa took of running down the cobblestone street, feeling her freedom nearing as she approached the bank. It was strange being here at this time, it felt like a ghost town. The area was remarkably quiet, being very much the opposite during busy hours.
When she came to the immense double front doors of the bank, she banged as loud as her fists possibly could. It took too long for her liking before one of the goblins finally answered her.
One of the doors cracked open, a goblin's long nose and pudgy face peeking out to see just who was delivering such impatient knocks.
"Miss Black," the goblin greeted her.
"How soon until you open?" Narcissa asked, "I am looking to make a withdrawal."
The short goblin hesitated, squinting at the witch. "What good timing you have. I was just out here to unlock the doors for business hours."
Narcissa grinned sweetly, attempting to apply her ladylike upbringing to the situation to keep the tone pleasant. "Wonderful."
She looked over her shoulder, ensuring that her father wasn't pursing her before she slipped into the building with the banker.
Gringott's was beautiful on the inside. With fifty foot ceilings garnished with crystal chandeliers strung about, golden lanterns at every banker's post, and walls made from pristinely kept mirrors.
She saw her reflection in the mirrors. Her dress was nearly obliterated. Chunks of fabric were missing in various sections while other bits of fabric hung by mere threads. Her beautiful baby-blue dress looked more akin to rags worn by a lowly scullery maid.
She was surprised the goblin hadn't made a snarky remark about her clothing. Goblins were known for having a certain disdain for wizard-kind, even if they were employed by them.
Narcissa followed timidly behind the goblin as he led her through the lengthy lobby. She had never been here without her father, it wasn't exactly customary for pureblooded witches to manage their own banking.
"May I see your key, Miss Black?" The banker asked, stopping in his tracks and holding out his large and bony hand.
Damn – how could she have forgotten. The key was in her father's office desk drawer. It was right there for the taking, had she known in advance about this trip to the bank.
"I —" Narcissa uttered shyly, " — don't have it…"
The goblin narrowed his eyes," Hmm. Very well. You're wand, please."
Narcissa scoffed and gave off offense, "My wand? I believe you already know good and well who I am."
"Of course, Miss. But wand identification is standard procedure, should you not posses your key," the goblin stated almost smugly.
With her lips slightly pursed with impatience Narcissa gracefully handed over her wand for the goblin to examine all while holding an arrogant expression His long and pointy fingers ran up and down the glossy ebony wood as he authenticated the magical instrument.
"Enjoy that," Narcissa said with disgust in her tone, "Instances like this are the probably only times you get to hold a wand."
Goblin-kind weren't permitted wands by Wizarding law. It had always been that way.
The goblin looked up at her with an almost sense of sadness that her words reigned true and handed back her wand. "Right this way."
Narcissa was led to an archway with a parked rail cart ready for them. Reaching out with his long fingers, he opened the door to cart, allowing Narcissa to seat herself on the cushioned yet dusty leather seats. There was seating on both sides of the cart for customers, both sides facing outwards away from the track with one seat that faced forward for the driver.
"What is this? Some sort of fair ride?" Narcissa asked as she glanced over the oddly shaped rail-cart attached to a wide metal track.
This will bring you to your vault, Miss." The banker replied flatly, "Please remain seated with all limbs inside the cart until we've arrived at your vault. I do want both of us to get there in one piece."
With the banker situated at the front and Narcissa seated, the cart began pulling away from the platform with a rough movement.
Given her current disposition, Narcissa rolled her eyes at the goblin's instructions. That was, until she spotted the sharp drop up ahead.
Her eyes bulged out of her head just before they made the plunge. She let out a shrill scream as the cart plummeted down into the cavernous depths of that resided under the grand lobby of the bank.
Stalagmites whizzed by the cart as the cold air blew threw her hair. Narcissa gripped on to the hand-railing with white knuckles with her eyes sealed shut as the continued down the winding track at top speed.
The cart came to a stop not soon enough, nearby a circle of immense pillars at the bottom of a deep rocky trench.
They exited the cart, the dim light coming from the various lanterns barely being enough to provide them with adequate vision. Looking up, a distant hint of light twinkled from the surface.
"Right this way, and stay close," said the goblin banker as he reached for a double-sided bell.
Narcissa tried to still herself. The cart ride had left her blonde hair tousled and limbs shaky. She remained in her agitated state for only a moment before gasping at a chained dragon before her that began to stir awake. The albino reptile was pure-white with clouded grey eyes, growling as they grew closer to it.
Steam began to grow from between the dragon's snarly teeth as it took a step forward.
"Oh calm down, you overgrown lizard," the goblin brashly remarked as he began to shake the bell back and fourth. Immediately, the dragon began to cower backward, its shackled collar jingling as the giant beast recoiled into the shadows.
"Nice to see security is tight around here," Narcissa remarked.
She looked around the dark and dimly-lit cavern. There were dozens of other vaults, equal in size and immensity to her own. The goblin waddled over to the massive vault door, rotating the key continuously as the twisted locks that ran up the door like metal vines all unlinked from each other.
The door opened with a deep, growling creak that echoed throughout the area. The golden shimmer was nearly blinding as Narcissa walked in. The Black vault was filled to the brim with riches.
Heaping piles of gold galleons, jewels that littered the floor and dripped from the walls in the form of necklaces and medallions, shiny trophies, luxurious furs stripped from exotic animals hung about the room, and even a few ornately framed paintings, non-enchanted thankfully.
Narcissa locked her eyes on something in the middle of the room. She came to a pedestal with a cracked skull that adorned with a beautiful tiara. Sterling silver with intricately carved swirls and glittering black jewels. Along the bottom the words - Toujours Pur - engraved in fine cursive.
She took the accessory into her hands, staring intently as it glinted in the lantern light before placing it in the pocket of her dress. Narcissa turned around, content with her collection of the family crown as she strolled out of the vault.
With the dragon still shuddering away at the sound of the bell, Narcissa and the banker strolled back to the cart.
The ride back to the surface was much smoother. Going uphill lacked the certain speed and intensity that Narcissa hadn't appreciated on the way down. She spent the slow ride up to the lobby with her eyes closed and head resting back against the leather cushioned seat.
Once reaching the surface, Narcissa exited Gringott's with the utmost caution. The sun was much higher now and people had begun filling the streets. Doing her best to seem at ease, she gathered herself as she walked up the Main Street and passed the shoppes with a look of noble arrogance.
From the corner of her eye she spotted a pair of witches murmuring to each other, their eyes blatantly and unabashedly on her as they whispered most likely about her appearance.
Narcissa tried to hold her usual composure. Despite her haughty and prideful demeanor, she was still very much trembling inwardly. Her father hadn't tried to invade her mind during her Gringott's venture. Though eventually, her father would surely gather that she'd make a stop there. Money would be the first thing on anyone's mind when making the decision to go on the run.
Her father too was a Slytherin during his Hogwarts days, cunning and sly as they are, his thought process was similar to her's. How on earth was she to evade him long enough to finish up in Diagon Alley, let alone indefinitely?
Her next stop would be to sort out her looks. While it shouldn't have been her top priority, she couldn't help but feel absolutely miserable looking in such shambles like she did. She had preferred her family's private seamstress and hair dresser that remained on call for the Blacks, but that was definitely not an option now. She fancied Twilfit and Tattings, but her father knew that.
There really only was one other store that provided tailoring services on this street. Just ahead, a bright purple sign in a gold cursive font just above a door read: Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions.
Narcissa pondered it for a moment. The shop was lower-end than the shoppes she'd typically frequent, but was the only shop no one was suspect her to visit. Throwing a weary glance around the area, Narcissa scurried into the store.
It was empty. She looked around the space, fine robes and dresses hung from golden racks while the tall, purple and green striped walls housed shelves of pretty accessories.
She had to admit, the store was lovely. With the high ceilings and golden accents, it felt actually quite posh.
The shoppe keeper walked out from her back room to greet her first customer of the day, only to be horrified at what stood before her.
"Merlin's beard!" The woman said with shock, "What's happened to you, dear?"
Narcissa held her hands together in a proper pose, swallowing thickly before speaking. "Um…My clothing is in need of a bit of mending. Are any of your seamstresses available at the moment?"
"Oh, I work alone, dear," the woman replied with look of concern.
Narcissa nodded subtly, realizing this must be the shop owner. "You're Madam Malkin then I take it?"
"That's right. Here, let's get you to a room and fix you up." Worried as she seemed, the shoppe keeper refrained from further questioning and helped Narcissa over to a private dressing room.
Warm tea and a plate of biscuits were summoned to the room for Narcissa – a welcome treat to help her ease herself in the new shoppe.
"Thank you," Narcissa offered between placing her lips on the cup.
Narcissa sat the tea down onto the tray at the vanity table when the shoppe keeper approached her with a slim glass vile filled with a green liquid.
"You should take this. You're all scuffed up," Malkin offered, "Might save you a trip to St. Mungo's."
Narcissa looked at her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. Her face was battered badly with cuts scattered over it, her neck, chest, and limbs all matched as well. She took hold of the vile and without hesitation, downed the whole of the vile in one swig. In almost an instant, she was healed. Every scratch, bruise, ache and pain had fully vanished.
"I don't mean to overstep, but who did this to you?" Malkin asked timidly.
A bit of silence fell between them before Narcissa came up with a suitable excuse.
"I was out for an early morning walk and strayed from the path a bit. I was attacked by a pack of wolves after accidentally stumbling across their den."
Madam Malkin gave a face that seemed unconvinced of the story Narcissa had provided.
"Are – are you sure that's what happened to you? I don't mean to overstep, but one girl taking on a pack of wolves by herself seems – unlikely."
Narcissa couldn't help but feel stupid. The shoppe keeper made a fair point. But did she really feel like explaining the situation to a shoppe keeper? Not really.
"You doubt my magic?" Narcissa questioned with the utmost offense in her voice. "My purity should convince you otherwise."
Malkin looked a bit taken aback. "Purity? As in—"
"Pureblood," Narcissa interrupted, "Yes, and my family is the purest in all of England."
"Oh. I don't believe I caught you name yet, dear."
Narcissa kept a severe expression, though was beaming inwardly at the opportunity to flaunt her heritage.
"Black, Narcissa Black. Need I say more?"
Madam Malkin looked floored. "Black?! As in—"
"Yes – them," Narcissa cut her off smugly once more.
"Well," Said the shoppe keeper, "It's an honor to meet such nobility. I appreciate you choosing my humble little shoppe. I suppose I've pestered you enough. Let's get you taken care of."
There was a good amount of silence between the two as Madam Malkin worked, not that Narcissa minded much, some peace and quiet was much appreciated at this point. The shoppe keeper was incredibly diligent, although had a hard time keeping her client still during the fitting.
"Ow," Narcissa winced as a pin met the flesh of her leg as Madam Malkin worked on mending the slashes in her stockings. The shoppe keeper was on the older side, but not old enough to justify having difficulty with her craft.
"Sorry about that," Maklin said regrettably, only to nick her client again with the needle.
"Ouch!" Narcissa yelped, feeling a harsh pinprick to her arm, "Dammit! Watch where your sticking your needles! I'm not a pincushion! Perhaps I should have made the extra walk to Twilfit and Tattings!"
The shoppe keeper looked up with an apologetic explanation. "So sorry dear. You're just a bit shaky. Are you nervous about something?"
Malkin was right. Narcissa was shaking like a nervous wreck. It had been a good while since her encounter with her father in the forest, but the feeling of fear still filled her.
"Nevermind that," Narcissa insisted as she cooled her temper. She was quick to remember that this woman was only here to help her. She took a deep breath and steadied herself. "I'm sorry. I've just… I've had quite the morning, so if you could please be just a bit more careful—"
While Madam Malkin worked, Narcissa took to dealing with her hair. Bits of woodland debris had been scattered through her tangled tresses, given how long and thick her hair was, Narcissa knew she had a lot of work ahead of her. Evanesco took care of the filth, it was the styling of her strands that always took an eternity to finish.
With the help of a few charms, a couple different brushes provided by Malkin, and about an hour's time, Narcissa's locks cascaded down her back immaculately once again.
It wasn't long after that her clothing was mended and cleaned impeccably. The dress looked even better than before, as if it was entirely freshly made. The stitching was neat and tight, making the gown look and fit that much better than it did when her family's seamstress had handmade the garment years ago. Malkin even went as far as to mend her hosiery – turning the shredded bits of dirty fabric that clung to Narcissa's bare legs back into the thick, white stockings that they once were.
Narcissa gave a twirl, the full skirt of her dress flaring out in a beautiful circle of opulent light-blue fabric.
"Wow," Narcissa expressed as she looked at herself in the tall mirror.
"Better, I hope?" Malkin asked as she tucked her sewing supplies back into her apron pocket.
"Very," Narcissa replied gratefully as she continued to twirl in front of the mirror.
"Where are your shoe's dear?" Malkin asked.
Her shoes. She had forgotten them at the manor.
"Ah, I must have lost them back in the forest. I didn't give them much thought during my encounter."
"Of course. Is your father aware that you are here, Dear?" Malkin asked, "Did you come to the shoppes with him this morning? Though I suppose he'd have probably rushed you to the hospital before getting a dress fixed."
Narcissa threw a glare at the shoppe keeper. She felt as though her judgement was being mocked.
"I – I just meant that – well – father's tend to treasure their daughters above almost all else. He probably wouldn't have hesitated to seek medical care for you, even though a bit of Wiggenweld did the trick just fine."
Narcissa's lip curled upwards and almost let out a chuckle. Not that the situation was funny, but because of how true Malkin's statement was without the shoppe keeper even realizing it. Narcissa's father did indeed treasure her above all else, but it went beyond that, far beyond how a father should treasure his own daughter.
"No," Narcissa said sharply. "I came alone."
The old woman's kind eyes gazed into Narcissa's with concern.
A soft chirp from out of the dressing room caught Narcissa's attention, she remembered the tawny owl that greeted her at the door.
"Pretty bird. I noticed him when I came in."
The kneeling Malkin glanced up. "Ah, thank you dear. He'll be my fourth one – just got him last week."
Guilt began to wreak havoc on Narcissa's brain. She had left her darling owl in it's cage back at the manor. Who knows if her father would do some to the poor thing out of spite. The shoppe keeper placed a calm hand on Narcissa's shoulder. It felt nice to feel the touch of someone that wasn't trying to assault you.
"Stay here as long as you'd like, dear. You do look quite famished though. Maybe a trip to the leaky cauldron for some nourishment would do you well? I'd be happy to find someone who could escort you there and back here once you're finished eating."
It was now that Narcissa realized that she didn't have a plan for after making her rounds to the necessary shoppes within the alley. Where would she go now?
There was an extremely limited number of people suitable to confide in. If only her mother were still alive, she'd know what to do.
The Lestrange Estate seemed out of the question. Her eldest sister, Bellatrix, hadn't yet responded to her plea for a safe place away from her father. Though, surely her father wouldn't hesitate to turn that place over in search of her anyway.
None of her friends or other family members knew what was happening, else the Black family name would be even more sullied than it was. Not that the family had fallen from grace, but two direct cousins marrying each other in the forms of her Uncle Orion and Aunt Walburga. The family may have been untouchable, but they couldn't police the rumors that flew about them.
There was one. One person that had no ties left the pureblooded community. One that her father wouldn't be caught dead being seen with or around. One that Narcissa had missed desperately. Someone that knew of the struggles she had faced all these years.
Her disinherited sister – Andromeda.
"May I use your owl to deliver a message?" Narcissa asked, politely as she could.
Madam Malkin nodded gently with subtle grin. "Of course, dear. I'll go get you a quill and parchment."
"Thanks," Narcissa half-smiled with gratitude, hoping that her idea wasn't too far fetched.
The moment the supplies were handed to her, Narcissa took a seat at the dressing table and began to write immediately. She tried her best to keep a steady hand so as to keep her writing legible.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ana'
I know it must feel more than a little strange to hear from me, given everything that has transpired between you and the rest of the family.
I miss you greatly, and I can't properly express the sorrow I feel for not reaching out sooner, and my regret for not attempting more to save your place as a Black. I don't expect amnesty by any means, but please hear me when I say that I need you.
Things have become so much worse since you left. It's father – he's gone absolutely mental. He's done things to me. I fear that there is no coming back from what he has done. I see no way of forgiving him at this point.
As your sister, who loves you deeply, I'm truly begging you, should you be gracious enough to spare a bit of kindness for me. Please help me.
-'Cissy
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