ODSAJFASDLFNSDA! Isn't it frustrating when FF is down
In a few days I'll be off to Europe to see my girlfriend so it's unlikely that I'll have anything posted for six weeks. Unless…by some miracle I conjure up something before my final exam. I'll probably handwrite a chapter or two so hopefullllly by the time I get back an update won't be far away ^_^
A biiiig shout out to everyone who PM'ed me over the last week. I LOVED chatting with you and exchanging ideas 3
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Chapter Thirteen
Narcissa put her book in her lap and glanced at the clock, 6:59. In one minute she would turn her back on every doctrine that her parents had engrained into her. If only her dear father were alive to see how low she had stooped for atonement.
"Papa would be rolling in his grave…"
She imagined her face being scorched from the Black Family tapestry as was her sister's. Andromeda had all the potential of becoming an influential, and wealthy, member of Pureblood society. And she threw it all away for a Mudblood. Because she said she could no longer trust the family.
"How is what I am doing any different?"
It was a strange feeling – the one where you wake up suddenly in a bed that isn't yours. Narcissa had done just that upon hearing the commotion at the opposite end of the house. Andromeda didn't normally give up her room so easily but the youngest had her ways of wrapping her sister around her little finger.
Narcissa was used to the fighting – she had grown cold. It had become the norm. With Dromeda's help she had learnt to close the doors in her mind. Not even she could reach the memories. They were hidden. Deep. Oh so deep. With locks on every handle. Not to be disturbed. For if she reopened them she would return to the nights where she would cry herself to sleep. It made her feel so childish. So weak. Her Father never cried. One day she would become the head of a household – it was probably best if she grew up now. Bella already had. Even after promising that she would wait. It wasn't her fault. Time doesn't wait.
Narcissa fluttered her eyelids to bring her back to the present. Hermione had entered the room and the woman could hear the groans of embarrassment even from where she sat. Her dinner guest was grossly overdressed. Yet the patrician witch couldn't help but linger over the slender form, draped in her sister's midnight-sky gown. The one she had bought her because the Death Eater never wore anything nice to her parties. Material, woven by pixies, which entranced gentlemen and turned their wives. The first dress that Bellatrix wore when she kissed her like a lover in front of her husband. From then on Lucius hated that dress. And it stung. Not just because her soul was weary from constant conflict. But the dress reminded her of other times, in what felt like another life. Before she went to Spinner's End. The aristocratic witch couldn't help but be reminded of Bella. It was wrong on so many levels. Mudbloods were supposed to be repulsive, tainted and barbaric. They certainly were not supposed to rival the beauty of Purebloods. After everything that intrusive, little Gryffindor has dragged her through, after making the woman feel so dead and dismantled inside, how could she still provoke so much emotion?
"Good evening, Miss Granger. So glad you could make it." Exchanging a warm smile. Within seconds the façade veiled Narcissa's true feelings and she extended her hand, inviting Hermione to sit beside her on the double sofa by the fireplace.
"You look exquisite." Greeting her with a platonic kiss on both cheeks. "I, myself, feel a little underdressed in comparison."
Hermione was too slow to return the reception properly and instead grinned inwardly – momentarily forgetting that she felt ridiculous next to her host whom wore black dress pants and a simple floral blouse that tied at the back to heighten the woman's figure. The occasions where the lady of the manor would come second-place in 'best-dressed', Hermione imagined, would be few and far between.
"Good evening Madame Malfoy, you look radiant." The brunette stumbled out, tripping over her recited words.
"You flatter me, Miss Granger. I trust you're well rested."
Hermione nodded, a slight uneasiness returning as she recalled her confrontation with Bellatrix.
"I'm pleased to hear. You deserve it after your progress so far."
From one of the bathrooms, Narcissa could hear the shower running.
She walked down the hallway, peaking into the eldest sibling's room. All she wanted was to lay beside her, listening to her mumble dreams. Smelling the peppermint on her linen. Sometimes Bellatrix would allow the blonde to climb inside her mind – there was so much she wanted to teach her, to make her understand – and when words failed there was an alternative.
But she wasn't in her bed.
Narcissa glanced up at the clock discreetly. 7:07. She was a woman of business, not of small talk. It was going to be the longest dinner of her life if the girl didn't stop acting like a brick wall.
"What would you say to a pre-supper drink to wet the palate?" She asked, conjuring up some glasses and filling them with a pink, sweet liquid.
Hermione bit down on her own lip as she took the glassware graciously. The woman continued to look at her through heavy lids as she raised her glass delicately.
"To the other side." She whispered in a deepened tone that sent involuntary shivers down Hermione's spine as they clinked their drinks together.
What the 'other side' was, was completely unknown to the brunette. Yet she toasted to it all the same. The aperitif tasted of strawberries and hibiscus flowers, an enjoyable combination that slid down the back of Hermione's throat like silk. She didn't want to seem like a discourteous guest. She had been looking forward to their meeting since before the invitation had even arose. But the moment she had entered the room, she realised that she had not one clue of what they could possibly talk about. The only thing they had in common was - -
"- - the Vow."
Narcissa's eyes shot over her glass at the girl whom was covering her mouth with her hands. The sudden blurt-out took her slightly by surprise (although she didn't show it). A thin lipstick imprint remained as she placed the empty crystal to one side.
"The Vow?" She parroted, shifting herself a little closer to the centre of the sofa "Come now, there will be plenty of time to talk about politics later." Picking up the book beside her, Narcissa walked over to the fireplace and placed the novella on the mantelpiece. Whether or not it was deliberate, Hermione now could appreciate the full silhouette of the woman as the flames behind her gave off a warm glow. Why the blonde insisted to wear heels in her own house puzzled Hermione but she didn't particularly mind. After all, her legs were perfect for it.
The nervousness suddenly heightened in her stomach as she wondered if the woman was a Leglimens like her sister and she forced her mind away from anything that could be deemed as impure.
"What were you reading?"
Narcissa smiled, the woman could sense the brunette was uneasy. There's a good girl. She thought to herself as she handled the paperback, flicking through the pages with speed.
"As a matter of fact, I just finished a compilation of academic pieces on Veelas. Fascinating creatures. The concept of beauty turning foul in the heat of the moment is not so dissimilar to our world around us, wouldn't you say?"
Hermione joined her host by the fire whom handed her the written work. Two silhouettes now stood ever so close, heat radiating between them.
Hermione flicked through the pages and looked up at the woman with awe.
"Is this mermish?"
"Clever girl. As well as history and the fine arts, my passion lies with language. It's perhaps the most powerful tool – besides magic of course. As you can imagine, not many merpeople frequent the Manor. So I do my best to keep up my proficiency."
The conversation flowed from there. Throughout dinner between rich foods and delicate meats, the witches shared with each other their love for language, history, music and knowledge. Hermione felt herself completely at ease as she cleaned off the last of her pastry with a silver fork. Not an awkward silence had come between them and even Narcissa was startled by how much the girl knew about topics that exceeded the average dinner conversation. The brunette was full of surprises. The woman actually had somewhat enjoyed their evening. It took her mind off the coming New Year but most of all, she was beginning to develop a curiosity. There were still many questions she needed answers to. But this was not the time.
"I want to show you something." Dabbing her lips with a napkin, Narcissa seemed to glide over to Hermione whom took the woman's offered arm. They walked out the dining hall and into another, slightly more modest chamber.
As she went to reach for her bedroom door, it swung open. Bellatrix stood in the doorway – a wave of relief washed over the youngest. She was so happy to see her sister still here. The same couldn't be said for the older witch. She didn't expect to see the blonde outside the door…how long had she been standing there? How much had she heard?
"Don't you know how to knock?" Was all she said.
Narcissa was pushed backwards and the door slammed in her face. She was so confused, it was HER room.
The woman flinched, enough for Hermione to notice. The blonde, although alert in conversation, had seemed distant at times – almost vacant.
Without missing a beat, Narcissa welcomed Hermione to the entertainment room. Posh chairs were dotted around the carpeted floor, in a pattern that the Gryffindor couldn't quite work out, and an orchestra of instruments stood to attention, ever ready to perform.
"You're free to use this room whenever you wish."
"Thank you so much." Although Hermione was a novice at only a handful of string instruments, she excited to have the opportunity to play so many strange and beautifully crafted instruments.
The brunette spun around to see that the woman hadn't taken her eyes off her. Hermione for the first time felt genuinely happy to be within the confines of the Manor. Perhaps it was the wine, but her confidence had grown in the presence of Narcissa. Her heart thudded with each new topic and when the woman laughed her cheeks turned several shades of pink. She was not just a housewife, she was so much more. All Hermione could hope was that she could mean more to the older witch than just a burden on her soul. "Will you play something?"
"It's been a while since I've played with anyone." Glancing at the brunette sideways
Hermione went scarlet. "I- I beg your pardon?"
"It's been a while since I've played with any one of these instruments." She smiled innocently "But I do have a favourite."
The woman sat on her calves behind a koto and closing her eyes, began to pluck the strings with skilful fingers. Hermione sat in the chair closest, taking in the Eastern melody. The blonde hummed a complimentary tune that could only be described as melancholic.
She looked down. Something uncomfortable was saturating itself into her nightdress. She screamed as she saw the bloodied handprint embedded in the fabric.
"Bella! Bella, please!" She repeated, banging on the door. She had removed her garment – reassured the blood wasn't in fact hers. Semi-nude, frightened and desperate – she continued to call her sister's name.
Blue eyes shot open and the woman's pupils dilated to a normal ratio. It was getting too much. She couldn't drown it out. Almost everything around her became a trigger.
"Can you dance?"
"Not by myself."
Narcissa was on her feet in no time and held out her hand.
"Then how about in pairs?"
When Hermione had said 'not by myself' she wasn't inviting the woman to dance with her. In fact, she had always been embarrassed by the thought of dancing. She had stuck it out with Krum but with the whole school looking at them, the entire event had been terribly unsettling for her.
"I can't dance."
Narcissa ignored the anxious attempt at a dismissal and instructed the surrounding instruments to play something soft. Hermione hesitantly reached for the woman's hand and their fingers enclosed around each other's in a gentle embrace.
The door once again opened and the eldest forced her sister inside. Their grip was slick with blood. Elbow deep. Bellatrix led the blonde by her neck, bringing her over to the soiled bed where their father's corpse lay – there was so much blood. His body had been wounded by a weapon belonging to an unskilled assassin.
The girl had never danced with a woman before. Something felt right about how their hips swayed in sync. She could smell the intoxicating scent of lavender and feel the warmth from her breast.
"You're not bad for someone who 'can't dance'", the woman lifted her arm and Hermione awkwardly twirled through the human arch. The Gryffindor could feel the warm breath on the back of her neck as Narcissa caught her again.
For a split second, Narcissa felt herself dancing with Bellatrix. Her raven hair spilling over her shoulders and her painted lips against her ear.
"Look at him, Cissy. Today is the day you stop worshipping mortals."
The girl walked over to her father. Afraid he'd take a breath and relive the suffering. Shock allowed her to move as time stood still. Nothing had sunk in. She was still thinking about her sister's January wedding. Everything was a blur until she touched her father's face.
"You made Papa cry." Entrapping a stray tear drop balancing on the edge of the man's sharp jaw.
"You have no idea."
...TBC...
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