Narcissa sat at the small dressing table in the fitting room.
She felt trapped in there, fearing the world just beyond the simple curtain partition. For all she knew, her father could be right outside, waiting for her to make one wrong move.
The calm sound of the morning customers in the main space of the store conversing provided a bit of white noise as she waited. Her sister had not yet sent her owl with a letter, though, why would she? Narcissa knew that by standing by her father as he berated and shamed her sister for humoring a muggleborn, she had surely more than sealed her image in Andromeda's eyes.
Narcissa felt in shambles. Thankfully, Malkin had the kindness to check in on her every-so-often in between helping customers. Other than the occasional suggestion to contact her father, Malkin supplied refreshments to aid in calming the frightened girl down.
The warmth of the lemon tea that she sipped on had helped soothe her nerves and bring back the healthy color to her skin.
In the corner of the room, a dress-form mannequin donned a Hogwarts' uniform. Many students came here to be fitted for one, Malkin's shoppe had been the talk of the town amongst the less monetarily fortunate. Narcissa began thinking about her schooling, and her failure to graduate. Potions never was a subject she could get a firm grasp on. Professor Slughorn didn't make the class any easier, with his dreadfully boring lectures.
A few hours had gone by now, and assuming that her father was still looking for her, it was only a matter of time before he'd be waltzing through the door of the robe shoppe and demanding to case the place u til he found her. He really was that determined.
Sitting helplessly in the confines of the fitting room did nothing to sort out her nerves. The insurmountable stress of it all made her vomit into a nearby rubbish bin. Embarrassed, Narcissa vanished the evidence with her wand immediately.
Madam Malkin had left for the shoppe floor, tending to customers and allowing Narcissa some quiet time. Finally, a faint flapping caught her attention before the shoppe keepers owl flew threw the drawn curtains and perched itself on the edge of the dressing table.
The bird dropped an envelope on to the table-top. The young witch was so excited to see her sister's owl that she nearly snatched the letter straight from the birds beak. Narcissa ripped open the envelope and read the simple message:
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613 Thornleigh Street, Southampton, England.
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Narcissa clutched the note to her chest tightly. With her eyes closed, she took in a deep breathe and exhaled with relief that her sister was still willing to look beyond their transgressions of the past. She neatly folded the note and reached under her dress, tucking the letter into one of her garter belt suspenders that held up her stockings.
A sudden sharp and stabbing pain pierced her mind. The severity of it almost knocked her off of the vanity stool she sat on. Narcissa held her head in agony as she winced at the pain.
"Hmm, what shoppe is this?" Cygnus' voice echoed inside of her head.
Narcissa forced herself to envision a different store – anywhere that wasn't Madam Malkin's. Though, despite her great efforts to picture the lounging area at Twilfitt and Tattings, or the endless aisles of books at Flourish and Blott's, her father's will to find her seemed to be that much stronger.
She saw herself in sitting that dressing room, clutching at her own head and hunched over in pain. She knew he only needed mere moments to survey the scene to deduce where she was.
"Oh, just one moment," Cygnus continued, "Ah, I know that emblem. I daresay, Madam Malkin never could make a garment worthy of our family's gold."
Narcissa saw it in her mind. The beautifully carved, golden 'M' at the top of the vanity mirror – the same font as the sign that displayed on the outside of the storefront.
"No," Narcissa said in a little scream, a whimper of sorts, "Please no."
The dark chuckle that Cygnus let out at the expense of her horror was unnerving. "Why don't I come down there and take you to a more suitable shoppe. Twilfit perhaps? I'm sure we can pick out something pretty for you."
Narcissa squeezed her eyes shut as she fought off her father's masterful legilimency skills. "I – I wont!"
"Awww," Cygnus drawled out, "Don't be like that, Princess. We'll have a grand time. I'll buy you whatever it is you want. I do so love spoiling you."
His unbridled arrogance and complete disregard for her feelings was downright infuriating.
"Fuck you," Narcissa cursed, gritting her teeth on the words – but the pain had already stopped and her father gone from her mind before he could hear her.
Recovering from the pain, Narcissa brought her face back up and looked in the mirror. Her long hair framed her ghostly pale face. The stress and fear of it all had once again drained her of her color.
She thought about the note. How was she to travel to Southampton without apparition, or even so much as knowing where it even was? She had never been, and knowing her sister's life choices, it was most likely infested with muggles.
Regardless, she wasted no more time. The comforting quiet of the changing room would no longer protect her from him. Narcissa hopped up from the table with haste, threw open the curtain and dashed for the front desk.
Only a few spars customers filled the store, casually browsing through the racks of garments. Thankfully, she hadn't recognized them, and as long as they didn't recognize her, there would be nothing to be concerned about.
Narcissa's hopes proved to be a bit optimistic when whispers began to fly about the daughter from one of the wealthiest families in the wizarding world being present in the shoppe. Perhaps none surprisingly, considering the women looked the part of socialites, though Narcissa didn't find them to be familiar from the faces she saw regularly within her circle.
The customers continued to point and gossip as she approached the front counter of the shoppe.
"Madam Malkin?" Narcissa called out.
The older woman rounded the corner carrying a robe in her hands that currently had a series of needles and thread pinned into it.
"Everything alright, Dear?" Malkin asked, looking surprised to see the girl had left the room after being so adamant about staying there.
Narcissa took a glance outside, the mid-day sun shined down onto the array of colorful shoppe exteriors that lined Diagon Alley as civilians passed by the windows going about their errands.
"I feel it's best I leave now, but—" Narcissa paused, "I was wondering if you could perhaps – apparate me somewhere?"
"Apparate you?" Malkin clarified.
The other shoppers stopped and turned to listen in on the conversation. Narcissa hadn't been as quiet as she hoped. The shoppers seemed intrigued and amused that Narcissa, being the pureblood witch that she was, would ask for help with such a seemingly normal and some would say 'simple' form of transportation.
"Yes, I – well I don't know how," Narcissa said in a forced whisper. The embarrassment from asking such a favor had set it heavily now.
Unfortunately, the shoppe keeper had no time to reply before the sound of the jingling the bell above the front door sent shivers down her Narcissa's spine. She needn't look to know just who was coming through that door…
Narcissa refused to turn around until a throat cleared and Madam Malkin's face paled.
She felt him. His unholy gaze staring at her. Narcissa reluctantly turned to see her father standing in the doorway to the shoppe.
"Well there you are, Darling. I've been looking everywhere for you."
His voice was too calm, and sent chills of fear throughout her body.
Cygnus stood threateningly at the front of the shop without even having to take an aggressive-looking stance. He seemed carefree, in a pleasant mood even. In the daylight she could see him better. His face scarred badly. The picture frame she had smashed into him during their struggle in the attic had left harsh and jagged lines across his face like some sort of horrid Frankenstein creation. The scars only added to the severity of his strong face.
Narcissa glanced at Malkin, who she knew could tell that her father showing up was not the blessing it seemed to be.
Cygnus smiled deviously at his daughter. In one hand, he dangled a pair of high heels in the air in a taunting manner. The glossy white shoes caught the light, acting as a shiny lure.
"You left your shoes behind, Love."
Her father strolled toward her at a modest pace. Cygnus took hold of Narcissa's wrist and led her to a purple velvet armchair near a standing mirror and sat her down.
Cygnus took hold of one of her ankles – with a shoe in his other hand. As he slid the high heel onto her foot, Cygnus took a moment to look over Narcissa's appearance.
"Look at you," he cooed, "You clean up well. You had help, I'm assuming."
Cygnus turned and gave Madam Malkin a look of suspicion before turning back to his daughter.
"How much does she know?" Cygnus asked quietly, yet severe in tone.
A tear nearly escaped Narcissa's eye as she softly shook her head and whispered, "Nothing. I told her nothing."
Cygnus' lip curled upwardly in a satisfactory smirk. "Good. One less person to deal with. I've taken no joy in having to sort out the collateral damage caused by your little stunt this morning."
"Wha – what do you mean?" Narcissa asked timidly.
Cygnus didn't look at her. Instead, her took to slipping her second shoe onto her foot before gently massaging her calf with his calloused hands.
"I mean – no one who saw you at that pub this morning – is alive to recount it."
Narcissa's eyes went wide. She wanted nothing more than to slam her foot into his mouth. Maybe while he scrambled to pick his teeth off of the ground she could escape him once more. But, she had too much shame – shame that prevented her from doing anything to cause a scene in a public place she so frequently visited.
She simply choked back her tears as her father continued to caress her leg, his hand snaking its way up her thigh.
Narcissa looked over. The other customers had ceased shopping all together to watch as her father massaged her legs in an all-to-sensual manner. Thank Merlin she had tucked her sister's letter into the stocking on her right leg, for her fathers wanton hands were quickly moving up her left.
"I want to see you in nothing but these pretty stockings, later in my bed," Cygnus said lustfully, seemingly unable to control himself. Narcissa could have sworn she saw a bit of drool run from the corner of his mouth.
His touch was painful – his words were immoral.
"But, for now, let's get some shopping done, shall we?" he said, snapping back to reality as he began moving back down her leg.
A breathy sigh of relief briefly left her lips until her father dove his hand into her dress pocket and snapped up the tiara.
"Thought I wouldn't notice?" His whisper was laced with conceit, "I know the insides of our family vault like the back of my hand. This pretty little coronet is going right back on the pedestal you took it from – and your access to our vault hence fourth restricted."
Narcissa watched with abhor as he slid the crown into a pocket within the lining of his cloak.
Cygnus smirked and took his daughter's hand in his. He raised an eyebrow at the state of her finger nails. Narcissa polished manicure had been chipped and cracked from her excursion through the woods. From all of that clawing at the ground, no doubt.
"Oh, this just won't do," he said in a sympathetically, "Let's get you somewhere to have this fixed up as well. Maybe after a spot of breakfast?"
Cygnus tried to stand her up. Sitting in the chair, Narcissa refused to move as she stared at her father pleadingly.
So many emotions flooded her body at once: fear, disgust, humiliation, anger – to the point where it felt like her body just wanted to shut down from the insurmountable amount of stress.
"I – I don't want to. I don't want to go back. Please don't take me back." Narcissa's blue eyes began to well up with tears.
The other shoppers were bringing to stare, murmuring to themselves as they watched.
Cygnus squinted his eyes and let out a frustrated growl before not so gently yanking her up. Narcissa yelped a bit at the sudden jolt.
"Come, I have a fun day of shopping planned for us. Be a good girl and come along," he said as he guided her toward the door, his grip on her wrist being so tight that she thought he might shatter it.
That's when Malkin came rushing around the corner of the front counter.
"You know, Mister Black," Malkin interjected, "Your daughter expressed her liking for some of the new garments that recently took in. I have a few gowns hanging in a dressing room for her"
And what was the plan should he allow her back to the changing rooms? Was there a door at the back of the shoppe? Not likely. Maybe Malkin had decided to help with her issue with apparition?
Cygnus took a quick and judgmental glance about the store and gave a haughty expression. "Nothing you sell here is good enough for my daughter. I'm not wasting my galleons on this cheap rubbish you deign to call clothing. We'll do better elsewhere."
Narcissa, despite more or less feeling the same way about the clothing sold in the shoppe, felt just awful for Madam Malkin. The store was a great deal nicer than she had assumed it to be from the outside, and the help that Malkin provided her in her time of need was invaluable to her.
Narcissa did her best to show the glint of apologies and appreciation within her eyes as her father led her out of the store.
Diagon Alley was hopping now. Narcissa watched the civilians enter and leave the brightly colored shoppes as they went about their business. While walking, she must have strayed a bit to far from her father for his liking when he swiftly wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in closer to him. Even the thick and sturdy material of her corset couldn't shield her from feeling his touch.
"I love him!" A girl's voice squealed from nearby, "He's so cute!"
A former classmate of Narcissa's, Elvira Selwyn to be exact, pranced down the opposite side of the street, seemingly having just left The Magical Menagerie. The excited girl held a newborn cruppy in her arms – her a bit-less-enthusiastic parents in tow. Oh how badly Narcissa wished she could have a Kneazle. One of those adorable fluffy white ones that always caught her eye when looking into the window of the shoppe as a little girl. She and her sisters all wanted one, but their father never allowed it.
"Humph," Cygnus huffed annoyedly at the Selwyns before guiding his daughter along.
Narcissa glanced around as her brain scrambled to think of what to do. She had the family heirloom, but it was no use if she didn't have it's worth in galleons. Borgin and Burkes should have been her next stop, not Madam Malkin's. How could she not have thought of it sooner? They were always willing to pay handsomely for priceless artifacts.
"Good morning, Mister Black, A well-dressed wizard greeted Cygnus before turning toward Narcissa with a polite nod. "Miss Black. Doing some shopping this morning I take it?"
"Ah, good morning, Zephyr," Cygnus greeted before gesturing to his daughter. "Just thought I'd browse the shoppes a bit. I found myself in the mood to spoil my darling Narcissa today. But, then again, I find myself hardly ever in the mood not to."
The young wizard smiled, dark-skinned and good looking, he seemed to beam with delight as he looked upon the blonde witch on Cygnus' arm.
'Help me,' Narcissa subtly mouthed, the feeling of helplessness dancing in her eyes as she looked at him. She tried to make her expression unmistakable. Though, Zephyr didn't make any indication of understanding her silent plea.
"How generous of you, sir. But I have to admit, I myself would have a hard time not constantly spoiling a witch as beautiful as her."
Narcissa couldn't miss the way he his stare dipped down, not-so-subtly regarding the alluring amount of cleavage her that dress put on display.
Her father narrowed his eyes looked down his nose at the boy in front of him.
"Quite," Cygnus managed as he tried to keep his composure.
"How gracious of you to say," Narcissa thanked him, "Did you enjoy your first night of the summer holiday?"
Zephyr nodded, "Very much so. The beds within the Slytherin dorms are quite comfortable, but it's nothing compared to my own."
"Missed your own bed, did you? Don't we all," Narcissa playfully said. She felt he was lucky to have been able to enjoy his own bed after returning home. She had been stuck in the attic all night. "I'm sure your bed is most comfortable."
"You wouldn't be wrong in saying so, but actually laying in it is needed to fully appreciate it."
"Ahem," Cygnus loudly cleared his throat and looked at Zephyr with the eyes of an angry protective father.
Narcissa did her best not to chuckle at her father's dismay. Seeing him get anything but his way was amusing to her.
"So, what brings you here this morning, Zabini?" She asked, "Looking for a nice gift for Elvira perhaps? You two have been seen nearly everywhere together since fifth year. I do wonder when you'll finally propose."
Zephyr cringed, a look of mild disgust parading across his face. "Oh, no. She and I are just closely acquainted school mates. She's rather brilliant in most of her classes, and somewhat humorous as well, but no. No proposal is to be expected."
Narcissa chuckled, "So it wasn't you that bought her that crup I spotted her with earlier? I was about to commend you on such a thoughtful present."
"Oh no," Zephyr rushed to confirm, "Definitely not."
"You know, I've always wanted a kneazle, actually," Narcissa added," One of those cute, white fluffy ones with the pretty eyes. They're simply adorable."
Zephyr shuffled one step closer to them to further engage in the conversation , causing Cygnus to tighten his arm around Narcissa's waist, uncomfortably so.
"A kneazle, huh? Well, I don't suppose you have a birthday coming up, do you?" Zephyr hinted.
Narcissa shook her head, "March, unfortunately. Long since passed."
"Ah, blast. Well, I do recall your father mentioning something about spoiling you today—" Zephyr started with an eyebrow raised almost smugly.
Cygnus sniffed, "Absolutely not. Animals are terribly filthy creatures. A caged owl only let out to deliver a parcel is one thing – but I won't have some critter running around, shedding fur and defecating willy-nilly about my house, and especially not around my daughter. She's pristine, and I intend to keep her that way."
Narcissa sighed and subtly waved her father's worries off, "So, I take it you aren't courting anyone at the moment then? I would have loved to help you select a suitable gift for the lucky girl."
Zephyr smiled, "Well, there's not yet a girl, but my mother's birthday is coming up in a few weeks. I could really use a woman's help with picking something out for her if you wouldn't mind accompanying me."
"Is it now," Narcissa asked in a faux surprised tone, "So concerned about buying me a kneazle when you should be focused on your mother's gift."
Zephyr smiled at her, "My family is more than well-off enough for me to invest in two birthdays if I so please."
His demeanor was unmistakably flirtatious.
"I see. I'd be happy to help find someone for your mother," she replied, "Perhaps we could pop into Sugarplum's. Does she fancy sweets?"
Zephyr chuckled, "Yes – quite so. But, I happened to make a stop in there already this morning. Turned around almost immediately when I saw Weasley and Prewett in there with a few of their Gryffindor chums. Didn't want deal with being around them or their mudblood – er – muggleborn acquaintances."
Zephyr's eyes went wider than normal as he looked up passed Narcissa and directly at her father. He gulped before looking back at her.
The code of conduct for speaking to one's pureblooded peers differed for witches and wizards – in the presence of their parents anyway.
"I – I ask sincerely that you pardon my language, Miss Black," Zephyr said beseechingly, "I should not have spoken so vulgarly in your presence."
Narcissa chortled out a small laugh. "Oh, your perfectly fine. No harm done."
"No, I'm afraid that I am indeed in the wrong. A lady should not be exposed to such derogatory terms. I sincerely apologize."
"Well, I accept," Narcissa said with a bit of a chuckle. "Anyway, I'd love to help you pick out a gift for your mother—"
"Ahem," Cygnus cleared his throat with a bit of an impatient tone. He possessively loomed over his daughter and threaded his fingers through her long blonde hair. "I'm afraid we have plans. We've actually yet to eat this morning, and we've both had 'quite the morning' If I do say so myself. Perhaps you two can catch up another time – supervised, of course."
"But, Papa—," Narcissa was interrupted.
"Of course, Mister Black, "Zephyr concurred, "I wouldn't want to impose on your time. You two have a splendid day."
He punctuated his farewell with a respectful nod.
"No, wait—", Narcissa nearly shed a tear as she watched her classmate walk away.
Another lifeline gone.
"How nice of him to catch up," her father said, his manner rather smug and knowing.
They continued down the street, looking leisurely as ever, at least, Narcissa tried to look the part. She needed to stay calm if she was to keep her mind steady and focused on coming up with a plan to escape. Escaping was non-optional, which is why the task seemed ever more daunting.
Narcissa played with the idea of yanking her hand free and slipping into the crowd. To hell with the money her family's tiara could bring her, she had her destination written on paper. That was the main objective.
There journey soon led them to the dark pathway that connected Diagon Alley with its unsavory neighbor – Knockturn Alley.
The atmosphere here was different entirely. The sunlight was blocked by the jagged, overhanging roofs of the shoppes, shrouding the area in eerie darkness. Questionable looking witches and wizards passed them as they walked. Narcissa recoiled when a dirty-looking man ceased chatting with the brick wall and turned his head sharply to look at her. She gasped and instinctively clutched on to her father.
"Don't worry, darling," Cygnus cooed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "No one is going to bother you – not while I'm around."
Narcissa couldn't help but show her discomfort as he father placed another soft kiss on head. Then, she spotted a familiar shoppe.
The dirty glass windows of Borgin and Burkes allowed the faintest hint of dim light from the shoppe to pour out. Through the windows, Narcissa saw the various archaic trinkets and other oddities that the shoppe liked to collect from it's questionable customers.
Cygnus chortled and pointed towards the window. "Look there. Your aunt must have changed her mind about that tatty wardrobe."
Through the window, Narcissa recognized the tall, antique cabinet her Aunt Hestia received as a gift during a family get-together. It was a Rosier family heirloom – passed down to Narcissa's Uncle Carl. She wondered if her uncle knew about the fate of the dresser as it sat in the showroom of Borgin and Burkes.
The path traveled deeper in to the shady alley. Narcissa cringed at the glowing signage that denoted the array of shoppes dedicated to selling mind altering substances or paid female entertainment. The hollering of rowdy men was audible from the outside a business with a bright sign in red lettering – Fantasy Fancies. She noticed the two wizards at the entrance that stood as security outside of the gentleman's club.
"Caught Abraxas Malfoy waltzing into that place once," Cygnus mentioned, "No doubt he asked one of the Metamorphmagi to shift into some passable form of his late wife. Can't start up a conversation without the poor bloke bringing her up. Dragon Pox really is nasty virus."
Countless rumors surrounding Cassandra Malfoy's death had circulated throughout the wizarding world. While those amongst the pureblood elite believed the story that Abraxas had given, the rest of the wizarding community didn't seem so convinced – Narcissa included. From what she had heard, Abraxas Malfoy was a controlling and abusive man, and supposedly, his only scion, Lucius Malfoy, was no different. Narcissa made sure to steer clear of Lucius while attending Hogwarts, despite his continuous attempts at making her acquaintance.
"Hopefully your cousin doesn't wind up like Cassandra," Cygnus added with a snide chuckle, "With a 'mysterious case' of Dragon Pox."
Her father's tone made it sound like he too thought differently of the supposed truth spewed by Abraxas.
It hardly ever crossed Narcissa's mind. He cousin, Violetta Rosier, was engaged to the Malfoy heir. Violetta had always been her least favorite cousin for many reasons – too many reasons to list at once. If she were to sum it up into one word – insufferable.
Eventually, Narcissa and her father made it to a weathered-looking building built of light-grey stone etched into a dark corner of the alley – The White Wyvern.
"Hungry?" Her father asked, "I know I am. Had quite the workout this morning."
The wooden sign was withered and faded, but the font was still somewhat legible. Narcissa vaguely remembered her father speak of visiting the tavern here and there, more so when her mother was still alive.
Cygnus gently guided her ahead of himself and pulled open the door for her to walk inside. Narcissa hesitated as she looked inside.
"Go on in," Cygnus eased her, "It's not as scary of a place as it looks."
This establishment was much more tasteful in appearance than the pub she found herself in earlier. Despite the shifty wizards that perched themselves at the bar, the decorum was much livelier and rich in tone than she had first thought.
"This way," Cygnus said, taking hold of her hand and guiding her to a corner booth.
As he led her too the table, his grasp on her hand loosened. Almost accidentally, Narcissa slipped her hand right out of her father's grip and stood there, shocked and unsure of what to do. She stood there, still as a statue with her eyes a bit wide as she looked down at her now free hand and back up at her father. For a second, she thought about turning and making a run for the door. It seemed her father could sense this thought of her's.
Cygnus squinted and whispered, "Don't you dare…" He pointed to the cushioned, purple leather booth. "Sit. Down."
Narcissa gulped and hung her head as she shuffled over to the booth and took a seat. Her father quickly joined in after her, blocking her in against the wall.
I hate being vulgar with you. You know that," said Cygnus in an almost sweet tone of voice, "What's going on with you? You've always been obedient – far more than your sisters were anyway."
Narcissa felt him reach out to caress her hair. Her eyes shifted up at him to see the supercilious smirk on his face as he threaded his fingers through her long, silky tresses.
Cygnus looked around the room, taking in the atmosphere of the dingy place. "Not the most ideal place, I'm sure you're thinking. Just thought it'd be a good spot for some privacy to have a little chat about — some things."
Still and silent as a statue, Narcissa was as she looked back down at the table. Though, she had every intention on listening. She hadn't been interested is hearing about her father's perversions before, but now, she felt she needed to know just what was going through his mind.
"Cissy?" Cygnus asked.
She looked up, taking in a view of those painful looking wounds like lightning bolts across his face.
She winced, "Your face—"
"Ah, yes," Cygnus leaned back, "Don't remember doing this to me, or what?"
As much a he probably deserved it. Realizing that she had disfigured her father so atrociously still made her heart pang with guilt. Truth said, he was undeniably handsome – something he treasured above most else. The Black family was know to be the most vein out of all of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, without a single doubt.
"I…I'm sorry, Papa."
Cygnus grinned at her humility. Delicately, her reached out and took her chin in between his fingers. "All of forgiven. Essence of Dittany took care of the healing for me. As for the scarring, I'm sure Slug and Jigger's will have something for it."
She had hoped he was right. With the scars across his face and the evil that glinted in his eyes, he seemed more akin to a crazed asylum patient than a noble pureblooded wizard.
"You gave me quite the scare this morning," Cygnus said as he propped open the small, foldable menu in front of him. "Thought for certain those wolves would have gotten to you. I was so glad to see you in Hillcroft. I suppose you ran into other obstacles in the forest and handled them no problem? Seems like I handed you down my magical prowess."
Narcissa let out a disbelieving chuckle. "Ah, yes. A magical prowess so great that I couldn't even graduate Hogwarts. Some talent you passed down. Thanks for that."
It was amusing seeing her father's jaw fall open at the insult.
"Why you little—" Cygnus stopped himself before he said something too nasty, "Seems I also gave you my quick wit, no doubt."
Narcissa scowled inwardly, irritated that her father had yet to attribute anything she had possessed to her mother. In her opinion, personality reflected more that of her than him.
"So – how long have you known – about Legilimancy?" Cygnus asked.
She stayed quiet for a moment, contemplating on weather or not telling him was a really a good thing to do. Perhaps she shouldn't have acknowledged it back in the hamlet.
"What do you mean?" Narcissa decided to feign ignorance.
Cygnus chortled, "Don't be coy. I remember what you said to me this morning. You knew what magic it was. You said it – you know you did."
"I found a book on it, in the library at Hogwarts. The symptoms it described – the flashes, the pains, I knew it was what was happening. So I kept the book. Paid the librarian off in exchange for it."
"Hmmm. Very clever," Cygnus was able to admit, "I'll admit, it baffled me that it took so long to get into your head. Seems as I grew more proficient with my skills, you were sharpening up your own, right under my nose."
Cygnus waved down a staff member to put an order in. The waiter hobbled over to the table with a quill and paper in hand.
"The usual for me and some cherry juice for her."
The waiter nodded and walked away off to fetch their drinks.
"The usual?" Narcissa queried, "Come here that often, do you? They just know what you fancy to drink?"
"I come here often enough," he answered shortly, "By the way, before we get too off topic. I know exactly what you were trying to do with that boy. Your obvious attempt to get away from me aside, did you honestly think I'd let you wander off with Zabini by yourself under any circumstances?"
Narcissa shrugged her shoulders, "He's a friend. We've been acquainted at Hogwarts for some time now. I've made a few trips to Hogsmeade with him on occasion. Despite their efforts, our professors can't keep track of our activities all of the time."
Cygnus snorted out a laugh. "Oh spare me. You think I didn't coerce the school board to keep an extra set of eyes on you and your sisters while you were away? If that boy had attempted anything more than a polite handshake, I'd know about it."
"Extra set of eyes?" Narcissa asked, her tone uneasy. Although, she wouldn't put it passed her father to do such a thing.
Completely disregarding her concern, Cygnus continued. "The boy's father won't stop pestering me about your debut. Keeps asking me when and for how much can he secure you for his son."
Narcissa let a small smirk grow on her face at the thought.
"Hmmm," she entertained the idea, "Narcissa Zabini – sounds exotic. So much better than Parkinson or Malfoy. Seeing my a different last name next to my first will be jarring for to say the least."
"Well, even if you were in need of a suitor, Malfoy would absolutely not be on the table as an option – that's for sure," Cygnus drawled in annoyance.
She couldn't agree more, but what did he mean by 'if' she was in need of a suitor?
"Am I not expected to find someone interested in courting me?" She asked," I don't very much like the idea of being some old spinster, doomed to die alone."
The waiter came back to the table, drinks ready on a tray. The dissatisfaction for his occupation evident in the way he roughly placed the glasses onto the table.
"In the market for a man, is that right?" The waiter said, flashing a grin that showcased his teeth, one of which in the front was gold. "Well, I hate to impose, but—"
Cygnus was ready to shut this down quickly, "The drinks will be all for now – away with you."
The man grumbled to himself as he left the table side and strode back to the bar.
"What I mean is," her father said before taking a sip of his whisky, "You're not in need of a suitor, because you're looking at him, Darling."
Narcissa nearly choked. Her body wanted to vomit up all of the disgust and distress forced into her all these years on to the table.
"Father…surely you must not be serious?"
She asked this, but the look in his eyes said it all.
Cygnus set his glass down. He leaned toward her and placed his hands on her arms. He slid his grasp down until her reached her hands under the table. The feeling of his rough and calloused hand over her's was wholly unnerving and uncomfortable.
"Sweetheart," he cooed, "What better a man could you possibly hope for? You need someone who will respect you the way you deserve, who will protect you from all that is bad in this world, who will love and provide for you—"
Narcissa tried, but she couldn't honestly deny the sincerity in his words. The glimmer of hope that sparkled in his eyes wounded her. She didn't want to hurt him, she loved him, but this…this desire…this lust… it needed to stop.
"Papa. I say this to you with all of the love I have to give. The qualities you posses are absolutely what I would look for in a man. Someone with power, strength, and influence. Everything that you stated. But, you must understand, you must think reasonably, that man cannot be you…you do realize that, yes? Deep down, you know what I'm saying is true. You and I can never be – not in the way that you wish us to be."
Cygnus wore the hurt on his face for her to see plainly. She nearly thought he would begin crying. "Your aunt and uncle have had a very successful marriage, and they are a bit closer than most couples are."
This was very true. Although, weather or not their marriage was a success was a matter of opinion.
"Aunt Walburga and Uncle Orion shouldn't have happened either. Cousins shouldn't love each other in such a manner – nor should father and daughter. I know you know this, Papa."
"That's enough out of you," Cygnus growled as he poured himself more whisky. Narcissa still hadn't even touched her beverage. "Now, look over the menu. They don't have the finest of food here, but I'm sure it'll do for now."
Pleading seemed not to get through to him, at least not yet. She had hoped that laying it out plainly for him would snap him out of his delusions. She would not live the rest of her life this way.
"Papa, we cannot be," she repeated, much more firmly this time, "I'm sure I can find a reputable wizard who will treat me the way you would want me to be. At some point, you have to let me go."
"No," he declared.
She stilled. Did she dare object to his wishes further?
"Yes." Narcissa recoiled immediately after the word left her mouth.
"No!" Cygnus' fist hit the table, knocking over their drink glasses. Narcissa gasped as the cherry juice and whisky spilled across the table and soaked the fabric of her dress.
She looked at her father. He was absolutely fuming. His face turned to something akin to infantile rage. Hot tears streamed from his eyes now, while his face reddened with fury.
Narcissa's innate response was to extinguish his vexation as soon as possible. He looked downright murderous now. She grabbed onto his cloak sleeve, gently tugging on it to coax him to sit back down.
"I'm sorry, Papa. Really, I'm sorry. Please sit down."
"No! You have no respect for me, your own father! You've gotten lost within your own selfishness and forgotten your place! You do what I say, when I say it, and how I say it to be done! I'm not asking you to be mine! You are mine!"
The crooked wizards at the bar and various other spots around the place swiveled in their seats to watch the Cygnus' fit of hysterics. Some of them even had their hands pressed to their trouser pockets – looking ready to withdraw their wands if the situation called for it.
"You're right – you're right," Narcissa tried calming him desperately. The last thing she wanted was to have the authorities summoned. Not only would they most take her father's side if he paid them off enough, but word about her father's public eruption and arrest would spread throughout the Wizarding World faster than light could travel – tarnishing the Black family name and ruining Narcissa's social standing. "You needn't shout. Just sit down – sit down, please."
"No! You'll not reject me!" Her father carried on yelling, the fury of hell biting in his eyes. "I will not let some unsavory, inadequate excuse for a wizard have the privilege of laying claim to you! I won't have it! You're mine! MINE!"
Most of her father's threats of slaps and spankings as punishment were empty when it came to her. Bella and Ana definitely had their share of corporal punishment while growing up, it was an unspoken fact that Cygnus refused to lay a hand on his youngest, even if he did threaten it occasionally. Now, however, with the way he was acting, she wasn't so sure if the same immunity applied. Narcissa had never seen her father so absolutely belligerent and furious at anything or anyone.
Narcissa whimpered in fear, "Papa, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I love you. Please sit down. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I didn't meant to make you upset.
"What's going on over there?!" The bartender called out from across the room. "I don't want to have to send for an auror, Black!"
"Mind your own fucking business!" Cygnus hurled the bottle of Firewhisky at the bartender, just barely missing his head.
"No, no! None of that! No need to get the aurors involved!" Narcissa assured him, "My father is fine, we're both fine!"
Narcissa couldn't believe it. Her father, highly-regarded and powerful aristocratic wizard whom many feared, was having a full blown tantrum as if he were some I'll-tempered child. Narcissa wasn't only frighted now, but also immensely embarrassed.
The veins in Cygnus' neck were tense and stretched to the point that she thought they'd break.
"You have to stop this before they bring the authorities here," Narcissa pleaded with him, "They'll come here and take you in cuffs. You need to calm down."
"The thought of another wizard having you to himself makes my fucking blood boil!" Cygnus bellowed so deeply and severely that the whole room felt like it shook under his anger.
Narcissa hoped that an expression of affection would soothe his nerves.
"Papa, I love you," Narcissa was begging at this point, her voice shaky and heart beating wildly in her chest. She hooked her arms around his bicep, squeezing gently as she spoke to him. "Please stop shouting. I love you. You're perfect – the perfect man. There's no one else for me – only you. I'm so sorry. I love you so much. Please stop and calm down. I love you so much, Papa. Please stop shouting. You're really scaring me."
Narcissa's strategy of uttering the same phrases over and over didn't seem to have much affect. It appeared her father was completely lost to his temper.
Her blue eyes filled with tears that eventually started flowing down her cheeks.
"No!" Cygnus bellowed again, his emotions clouding his judgement. He slid out of the booth as he none-to-gently pulled Narcissa out with him. He reached into his pocket and slammed the money down for the drinks on to the table so brutally that the wood cracked under the pressure. The amount of gold on the table was plentiful, probably to make up for the property damage. "Skip the food – my appetite's ruined now anyway. I promised you a day of shopping. A little retail therapy ought to clear your head of this foolishness you're spewing. Let's go!"
The grip he took on her wrist was deadly a she yanked her from the booth. Her high heels minced along the floor as he pulled her along to match his riled pace. It seemed Cygnus Black was determined to show her that no other man on this planet would suffice, and Narcissa feared how far he would go in the pursuit of proving that.
In his single-minded fury, Cygnus dragged Narcissa by the wrist back up to the light of day in Diagon Alley.
They came to the door of the Slug and Jigger's apothecary. Normally, the stench of animal parts and fluids could be picked up from outside of the door. But today, some pleasant filled the air just outside of the shoppe instead.
"Here," Cygnus halted them both, "I have an order waiting for me."
His thumb came up to her face to wipe her tears. Narcissa was still feeling the intense emotions from her father's brash outburst.
"Don't cry," he said softly, "You're too pretty for that."
Cygnus took out his wand and vanished the stain whisky and juice from gown.
The tiny bell above the entrance rang as Cygnus pushed the door open. The delightful smell only grew as they drew nearer to the front counter.
Narcissa looked about the shoppe in search of what it could be. The store was a bit dark. Wooden shelves of jarred and loose potion supplies lined the walls in mass. Everything looked as it always did. The dragon liver extract and toad warts should have made the place smell foul, like normal.
"Mister Black! I – um – just one moment please." She shoppe keeper peaked his head around the corner from the supply closet that resided behind the front counter. Moments later her came out, his purple robes stained with something and his hair a frizzy mess.
"What have you brewing in the back there, Caldwell?" Cygnus inquired, much to Narcissa's fascination as well, "It smells positively marvelous in here."
The shoppe keeper chuckled, "Oh, that – yes, a huge order for Beautification Brew. Not the most popular potion, this client, however, has been my biggest purchaser of it. Orders a crate full of it every few months or so."
"Who needs that much of the stuff?" Narcissa prodded, "That sounds absolutely absurd."
Caldwell fidgeted with his hands anxiously, "Oh, I can't say for certain. After the batch is bottled and crated, I am instructed to leave it in a secret location every time. Never actually seen the purchaser myself. I've only ever communicated with them via owl."
"Interesting." Narcissa concluded that some poor soul needed a lifetime supply of the brew to fool themselves into thinking they were as beautiful as the potion made them.
"Mister Black. You're here for your order, I presume?" Caldwell asked.
"Indeed I am," Cygnus said with a nod. "Oh, and while you're back there. See if you have anything for scarring, won't you?"
The shoppe keeper agreed, disappearing behind the back corner before returning once more with a small pouch of vials.
"I have just the thing for your – uh—" Mister Caldwell stopped himself.
"I know, I know," Cygnus chuckled a bit, "I love pretty banged up. I appreciate this, Caldwell. Pleasure doing business with you."
"Likewise, Mister Black," the shoppe owner replied graciously, "If you'll excuse me, I must see to that brew I have going. Don't want to over-heat it, you wouldn't believe the disaster that would be."
Narcissa looked down at the pouch in her father's grasp. "What did you have ordered?"
She was answered in the form of her father chuckling a bit before leaning down and placing a gentle kiss on her head. "Contraceptive potions, my darling."
The way he uttered that made her skin crawl. Still, he time to escape hadn't presented itself to her just yet. She needed to play along and continue this charade if she was to avoid another one of his screaming sessions.
"How…responsible of you," Narcissa gulped, giving him the most convincingly grateful smile she could muster.
Cygnus smiled and put his arm around her waist, guiding out of the front door.
"Of course," her father said, "Don't want to spend our years together having to worry about little imps running about the manor. Think I could go at least a decade without children to worry about. But eventually, an heir of my own would be nice. Maybe a few for good measure."
The coiling in Narcissa's stomach made her want to fall to the ground. For her own father to suggest such things was vile beyond measure.
"You– you want me to—?" She stammered, unable to find the words. Her mouth wouldn't let her finish speaking that dreaded sentence.
"Hush, hush. Let's not worry about it now," Cygnus cut in, "It's not something to be concerned with until the distant future."
She watched as her father applied some of the tonic to his face. In an instant, his scars vanished. "There, now that I'm not scary-looking anymore, let's go an find you a manicurist that will mend these nails of your's, hmm?"
Narcissa was brought to Madam Belle's Beauty Parlor. There, she sat getting her finger nails fixed as her father watch over the process like a hawk, scrutinizing every little detail that wasn't to his liking. The length of the nails, the color, shape – everything needed to be to his liking completely if the salon was to get any of the Black family's precious gold.
They both left the parlor pleased with the results. Narcissa's French manicure had been restored, magnificently done as well.
Upon walking along the high-street, a posh sign with elegant lettering read: Twilfitt and Tattings.
The two of them headed into the shoppe. The smell of luxurious leather and crisp linens wafted in front of Narcissa's nose the moment she walked through the door. Mannequins with dapper suits and dress-forms with exquisite gowns lined the walls with racks of expensive clothing hung about.
"Welcome, welcome," a well-dressed witch came out to greet them. "A pair of familiar faces, I see. Always good to see you Mister Black – your daughter as well. Is there anything I may help you two with in specific today?"
Narcissa wasn't at all in the mood for shopping. Walking around the shoppe, aimlessly looking at articles seemed like a great waste of time. After all, she had her sister to find, and who knows if Andromeda would uphold her offer if she was kept waiting for too long.
"Yes actually," Cygnus said, "I'd like one of your seamstresses to have a look at this stitch-work. My darling daughter, in a brief lapse of judgment, decided to have her dress, this dress, mended over at that lowly Madam Malkin's. I don't want it to fall apart spontaneously from what I'm sure is a less-than-middling sewing job. Do see to it that my daughter's clothes are properly mended, won't you?"
Narcissa sighed internally. Having to stand still for an agonizing amount of time twice in one day? She surmised she had been through worse things recently.
"Delighted to, Mister Black," the exuberance in the witches tone was undeniable. She extended extended out her arm to guide Narcissa over to a gold-framed standing mirror at the corner of the shoppe.
"Diana!" The worker to the back of the store, "You're assistance, please, now!"
Another witch, with a measuring tape hanging off her shoulders and a belt of spools and thread came rushing out.
In moments, the two witches had Narcissa propped up on a circular pedestal as the gushed over her clothing.
"My dear, I must say, this dress is just absolutely gorgeous. This silhouette is magnificent – the fitted bodice, the fullness of the skirt, the brocade detailing – Parisian fashion, no doubt. I daresay the French know the female form much better than most designers here in England. All of the loose and shapeless robes I see witches wearing around here can feel quite drab. But, it's unfortunately the style is most regarded in Britain. Wish our…lovely shoppe owner, Madam Olivier, would let us stock up on such beautiful gowns like your's."
"Paid quite handsomely to have it made for her," Cygnus boasted. He stood near a case of jewelry, walking slowly as he admired the glittering stones placed in dainty metal settings. "Our family has a private seamstress. We have her travel from France on call. Quite skilled. She's sewn hundreds of dresses for my girls over the years."
"Paid handsomely, indeed – Mister Black," one of the witches said, batting her eyelashes at him.
Narcissa held back her gag of disgust. If she wanted him, by all means, she could have him.
A few minutes of them inspecting the treads and stitches went by without a word from the two seamstresses.
"I'll be honest, Mister Black," one of the witches spoke up, "We do deem our work to be top-tier at this shoppe," the witch stopped herself, "But this needle work is positively superb. It's neat, even and sturdy. I wouldn't feel right charging you for a service that really doesn't seem necessary. Are you sure you—"
"How about you just do what I've asked of you, yes?" Cygnus sneered in response, "I am in no mood for games. I want my daughter's dress fixed up properly. If you won't fulfill my request, I'll take my galleons elsewhere."
"Diana!" The other seamstress leaned over and slapped her co-worker's arm. "No, no! Please, allow us, Mister Black. We'll take good care of your daughter. Come to think of it, We received a shipment of the highest quality thread on the market – spun from Acromantula silk, if you can believe it. Very strong stuff. I'd be happy to fetch it for you."
Cygnus raised a brow, "I would have thought you'd have enough sense to know that the best on the market is all I'd accept. Acromantula thread is all our private seamstress uses to make our family's clothing – nothing new to us. Hurry up, fetch it before I change my mind on your services."
"Of course, sir. Right away, sir." The witch rose at once and scurried to the back room, excited about the upcharge for the fine thread no doubt.
Then, the bell above the front door jingled, followed by a red-headed couple.
"My goodness," the witch said, "Its even more posh than I could have imagined. Arthur, you don't have to go to such lengths to spoil me."
The man with her shrugged with a loving smile on his face," I saved up all those paychecks just for this. I want to get you something nice, Mollykins."
For the first time all day, it seemed Narcissa sand her father wholeheartedly agreed on something. Bother father and daughter scowled daggers at the couple as they browsed through the shoppe with wonder-struck expressions.
"Ah, Weasley," Cygnus' tone was taunting, "What a surprise, seeing in here. I had your starter position at the ministry paid so well."
"Black," Arthur said curtly with a nod.
"Hello, Narcissa," Molly said in her best joyful tone.
Narcissa's eyes widened slightly as she placed a hand delicately over her chest in a display of feigned surprise. "My – how informal of you, Prewett. Been married for only a little while, yet you already seem to have completely forgone your manners."
"Exactly – Married," Molly narrowed her eyes, "It's Weasley now, thank you."
Narcissa pursed her lips, "I do believe your arrogance is misplaced. Perhaps if you had wedded someone reputable – Yaxley perhaps – your hubris would actually be founded."
"Unlike you lot, I married for love – nothing more! I don't need riches or status to feel complete or content. Can't imagine spending the rest of my life with an arranged partner, how awful it'll be for you."
"Molly, sweetheart, that'll do," Arthur tried to soothe her.
"Unbelievable!" Narcissa scoffed, her face twisted into a sour grimace. "I hope your parents are rolling in in the graves! Willingly throwing your pureblooded heritage away! You're are a disgrace! You're filthy! Blood Trait—"
But her sister, Andromeda. Despite her beliefs, hypocrisy wasn't a pretty look, especially when she now relied so heavily on her sister's willingness to help.
"Whoa now," Cygnus rushed over to his daughter, placed his hands on her shoulders and gently kissed her on the head. "That's quite enough. Stress will only age you. And it does not do to pick arguments with the mentally ill."
"Mentally ill…" Arthur repeated, his jaw slack with disbelief.
"Let's not this ruin our day," Molly said, holding onto her husband's arm, "I won't let them have the satisfaction."
The seamstress had been back and working on Narcissa's dress at this point, both workers were watching intently as their hands worked from muscle memory. Cygnus smirked, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the…tiara?
"Do please stay, if you like," he said haughtily as he placed the family heirloom onto Narcissa's head. "Plenty of tasteful jewelry to pick from. I even saw a little crown over there for your wife to try. I'll admit, it doesn't compare to the jewels that belong to our family name, but I'm sure to you, less than fortunate folk, it'll feel extraordinary."
Arthur side-eyed Cygnus as he guided Molly along the case of jewelry. "I'm not quite sure what I've done to make you think I'm in anything but a well financial position, Mister Black."
Narcissa watched her father shrug with a proud smile on his face. "Poor life decisions usually indicate poor decisions elsewhere. I was merely making an educated assumption."
The tiara had already found it's way back into her dress pocket. Oh how wonderful her father's vainglorious attitude was. The felt thankful that she was able to forbid her own from clouding her judgement so.
With eyes on her father as he argued with the young couple, Narcissa quietly reached down and swatted the seamstress hands away from the hem of her dress.
"That's enough, that's enough!"
"Oh, Miss Black. We are nearly done. Just a stitch or two and—"
But Narcissa was already headed out of the front door before the worker could get another word in. She wove in and out between the other civilians, not wanting to run into someone, thus impeding her escape.
Narcissa threw open the door to the dingy cafe, dashing over to the fireplace as the mucky patrons stared in confusion. She almost collided with a floating kettle on its way to fill the empty cups around the tables.
She didn't quite recall the exact address Andromeda had written her, but with no time to rustle through the many layers of her dress to search for it, she settled for what she did remember.
Wanting to waste no time, she reached into her pocket and took out the small pouch that contained the floo power.
Narcissa took a deep breath just as an enraged Cygnus Black blew the door to the establishment open, causing a panicked stir amongst the confused patrons.
"GET BACK HERE!" Cygnus' monstrous voice reverberated around the room. His tan face glowing red with rage.
Heavy tears streamed from her eyes as she frightfully murmured, "Southampton—"
Narcissa went to throw the powder onto the ground when pouch slipped from her hand, breaking open as the rest of the floo powder she was in possession of ignited. Soon, she was engulfed in the familiar green flames and taken away from this hellish scene.
~~~~~~~
She ended up inside of a building she did not recognize, as to be expected. It was akin to The Leaky Cauldron with its moist looking walls and spindly chairs placed at well-worn tables. It was dim and hardly occupied. Only a couple of haggard wizards playing a round of chess in the corner of the room.
Likely a great distance away from her father, and in a location he probably wasn't familiar with, she sighed happily, until realizing that she was without any more floo powder.
Tired from her harrowing escape, she shuffled over to an unoccupied table. The chair was uncomfortable, solid and splintery, a far cry from the lush leather of the booth back at the restaurant.
Narcissa slumped in her seat, spying slightly crumpled copy of the Daily Profit draping over the side of the table. Reaching for it, her face went immediately sour upon reading the top headline.
~Violetta Adeline Rosier — soon to be Malfoy~
The article went into detail about the recent sightings of Lucius Malfoy and her cousin Violetta. Paparazzi photographs had been taken of them frequenting museums, fine eating establishments, luxury boutiques, and more. Looking over the pictures, Narcissa couldn't help but notice the distinct differences in their demeanors.
Violetta looked happy as can be next to Lucius, smiling from ear to ear as if she had a wire coat hanger stuck in her mouth while smugly holding on to her suitor's arm. It made Narcissa fume to see her pestilent cousin gripping onto the Malfoy heir in such a manner.
Seeing Lucius's expressions in the pictures gave her some amusement, however. Try as he might, he wasn't able to hide the genuine disgust he felt toward the Rosier's daughter.
Soon, she spotted a woman that looked like she worked in the establishment, dusting off tables as she pulled a cleaning trolly behind her while her apron showed the remnants of the dirty surfaces she came into contact with.
Narcissa pulled out the note from under her dress and read the address once more.
613 Thornleigh street.
Damn, it's was such a simple address. How could she have forgotten? Her eyes found the cleaning woman again. Narcissa approached her with haste, catching the woman off guard.
"Excuse me. Would you happen to have any floo powder with you by chance?"
The woman paused from her dusting to snicker at Narcissa's question. "Does this look like a charity shoppe to you? Bring your own damn floo powder."
Narcissa scoffed. How dare this filthy woman speak to a woman born of nobility in such a manner.
"How dare you?! Have you any idea to whom you are speaking?!"
The bushy haired woman turned to Narcissa once more and scowled at her with her long face and crooked mouth. "I really don't care who you are. But if I had to guess, with your looks, I'd wager you were one of those high-priced courtesans those ritzy, pureblood lads fancy."
Narcissa's jaw hit the floor, her eyes bulging out of her head. "I beg your pardon?!"
The ragged woman rolled her eyes, saying nothing as she walked off with her rolling trolley behind her.
Once the ill affects of the insult had made its way out of Narcissa's body, she spotted an old door with sunlight filtering through the cracks. She rushed to it, throwing open the door to see a sight that she hadn't yet in her life.
A bustling street. It was black with colorful painted lines and symbols on it. Strange looking carriages rolled down on both sides in opposite directions — some making bizarre honking noises. Her gaze traveled upward, trailing up the immensely tall and futuristic looking buildings that seemed to be made of sleek glass and steel.
The muggle world…