In comes Lucius, FINALLY! Enjoy =)
Title is from the Killers song. It wasn't right for me to spend so long without naming things after The Killers :)
Narcissa stood in the shadows that hovered near the top of the stairs, waiting patiently in her beautiful gown. Her hands were brushing the soft, smooth fabric mechanically, tracing patterns that looped, graceful and tight. Her gaze floated to and fro, pausing regularly over the still silhouettes of women positioned next to the entrance. Druella, regally poised, Harmonia, slight and elegant, and Walburga with her haughty stance. They all awaited the same thing, ready to charm and to display their refinement. However, the evening, the night was hers mostly. Two minutes to nine o'clock.
Seconds ticked by, soft, steady in her head as they brought her nearer and nearer to the moment. Finally, the great grandfather clock tolled, slow and solemn; Narcissa's fingers curled against her palms, and she had a long intake of breath. It was time, and she waited still, until a clear knocking sound echoed across the foyer.
Cissy did not stir as the double doors parted, letting the very first guests in: a group of three that her mother walked forward to greet. She recognized them as the Parkinson family when they stepped further into the light. Druella, Harmonia and Walburga welcomed the guests graciously; it had been arranged that they should wait together in that purpose, so that the first people to come would walk in to an elegant if small grouping, setting immediately a pleasant impression, instead of allowing for mere emptiness. However, it was not time for Narcissa quite yet; as the last Black maiden, the secondary hostess and the debutante of the evening, her entrance would be spared for later – and more important individuals. A small knot of nerves coiled into the girl's stomach. That moment, it seemed, would be everything.
While she was reflecting so, the Parkinsons discussed with the ladies on the floor below, small talk about Bella's wedding and comments destined to wishing a good health to all of the persons present and their extended family; Narcissa would have liked to tune them out, but it was required that she listen for a word of her mother's that would be the signal requesting her arrival. Thankfully, another knock resounded, and more guests stepped into the hallway before frustration and expectation could do any serious damage to her composure.
It was five minutes past nine and Narcissa hurriedly stifled a gasp as she recognized the Malfoys' signature fair hair. Fashionably late. Druella went to them immediately, cordial and warm as she kissed Circe's cheek. "Mrs Malfoy, and Abraxas!" she cried, "how delightful to see you tonight!"
Delightful. Narcissa's feet mobilized at the cue word, taking her lightly and hurriedly to the very top of the stairs. Slowly, she descended, noting from the corner of her eye the heads that raised, one by one, to witness her arrival. The Parkinsons stared up at her, wide-eyed, and a hint of a smile touched Harmonia Greengrass' lips; Circe looked briefly and directly into Cissy's blue eyes, before her attention shifted to Druella again. Mr Malfoy nodded to her; so did his son. Handsome Lucius. Narcissa hastily focused on her steps – three, two, one, there she was. "Good evening," she spoke softly.
"Good evening, Miss Black," Mrs Parkinson was the first to respond, and all of the guests echoed the greeting. The tiny, moderately attractive woman glided towards Cissy and kissed her on the cheek. The girl smiled warmly at her, catching sight of her son shuffling his feet awkwardly behind; he was two years older than herself, if her recollections did not fail her, and showed no excess of maturity in light of his age. At the very least he appeared too shy to keep the confusion from showing in his composure.
Strikingly different were the Malfoys, standing together a ways away, the father regal and imposing, the mother keen-eyed and refined, the son handsome and flawlessly put-together. Druella's presence by their side was excuse enough for Narcissa to step towards them herself – beyond her personal admiration of their charisma, she made no mistake: it was to impress them indeed that her mother had called her forward at that very moment. The Malfoys and the Blacks counted among the most wealthy, elegant and influential families of old blood, and thus the rivalry, concealed underneath genial manners, was not any less fierce. Arrogant, nouveau-riche blond people you need to make a good impression on, her father had called them when she had enquired with her ten-year-old candidness, just prior to visiting Malfoy Manor for the first time.
"Quite lovely to see you again, Miss Black," Circe spoke airily at her approach, "Tonight is your night, I gather?"
"Thank you very much, the pleasure is all mine," she replied smoothly, "and indeed. My first ball." She had a genuine smile, and Abraxas and Lucius Malfoy murmured their congratulations. Narcissa did not look at any of the three for too long; she feared that Abraxas would frighten her, Circe unsettle her or Lucius embarrass her. Their combined presence, coupled with the importance of the moment, made her so very nervous. On the outside though, she pretended to be perfectly at ease.
Knocking sounded on the door again. "If you would excuse my daughter," Druella chimed in, "Narcissa, could you greet our newcomers?"
Narcissa curtseyed gracefully. "Certainly, Mother," she responded, "Have a pleasant evening, Mr and Mrs Malfoy!" She curtseyed to Lucius as well before hurrying to the door, careful to appear only busy and vivacious, instead of rushed. The Notts had just arrived: Monsieur and Madame Nott, their eldest son Hector, with his fiancée, Megara Bulstrode, on his arm, Hector's brother Ajax and, finally, their sister Alcyone.
Cissy greeted them all warmly, suppressing a wince at Mrs Nott's loud, booming voice. She stole a glance further down the hallway: Walburga and Harmonia had already escorted the Parkinsons to the ballroom, and Druella was in the process of leading the Malfoys in the same direction. A quarter past nine; many more guests were yet to come, but in the meantime, it was Narcissa's job to ensure that the Nott family felt sufficiently welcomed and to entertain them here until more people came in and she could excuse herself.
Right on cue, the doors opened again and Walburga reappeared to take the Notts off of her hands while she attended to yet another family. Prestigious guests came flooding in, and Cissy smiled and curtseyed again and again; her mother and aunt, as well as Harmonia, were doing a very smooth job of passing from group to group, greeting and entertaining, making everybody feel important while not masking how busy they were, and overall the gathering was being handled beautifully – which, after all of the planning, was only to be expected.
The clock struck half past nine, and Narcissa escorted a final flock of old ladies to the ballroom. The most influential people were all there already; any extremely late addition would be shown to the party by a house-elf. It was time for Cissy to truly make her entrance into the festivities.
Heads turned and whispers swelled in almighty waves when she stepped into the great, finely decorated room, graceful and smiling. Her skirts swished gently as she walked, and her gaze swept across the familiar faces; opting rapidly for a band of people who stood in her reach, she pleasantly enquired as to whether they were enjoying their evening so far. Conversation was established quite quickly from there.
For a little while Narcissa smoothly moved across the crowd, getting a good feel of the atmosphere and making an excellent impression on most of the ladies she interacted with. Druella was sitting on a couch in the middle of a little grouping by now, smiling widely and talking with a relaxed air about her; Cissy knew it meant that her mother was satisfied with the way the gathering was unfolding, and that she wholeheartedly trusted her youngest child to handle most of the hostess' duties. Although it had been decided beforehand that Narcissa should be left in the spotlight as much as was possible, it certainly did not mean the girl wasn't flattered by the confidence. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Harmonia discussing animatedly with a few others – among them were Ajax Nott and Lucius Malfoy. Before she could locate the latter's parents, however, music began, seemingly coming from the very walls and echoing elegantly up to the high ceiling.
Immediately, young people started converging in pairs to the centre of the room, while others retreated to stand by the edges or claim the comfortable seats that had been arranged strategically. Narcissa moved with the ladies she had been talking to, as most of them had no wish to dance and it would not do to abandon them all of a sudden and run off to the first bachelor who would see fit to invite her; however, she slowed slightly, purposefully as they reached a pair of couches, standing just one step away – easily reachable from the outside. When Virgil Greengrass approached her, she excused herself smoothly and glided away with him.
Virgil was in her year at school; his mother Harmonia had been tactfully pushing him Narcissa's way ever since they had started Hogwarts, joking with Druella that it would be oh-so-delightful to find their families united. However, the wish was mostly playful on her part, and as for her friend, she had only ever laughed indulgently, and never prompted the young pair to develop any further relationship than a casual acquaintance. Cissy had little opinion of Virgil's character, which would have been best portrayed by the mere word of "reserved" – he seemed rather uninterested himself, and she gathered that his mother's wheedling, though light-hearted, made him feel quite awkward still. Or maybe it had to do with his being a friend of Travers' – but this train of thought was one better kept aside to be pondered upon her return to school. Travers was no pureblood and what relationship they shared had no place on her mind when she ought to be focusing on her social standing and future.
Either way, her first dance proved quite short and uneventful, and she watched Virgil scuttle away afterwards with the mildly vexing impression that she had just been used to ease a feeling of familial responsibility. Thankfully, there were countless other young gentlemen who seemed to consider the task of wooing Narcissa to be was an advantageous mix of pleasure and duty. They also weren't that bad at dancing and time started blurring past her – a whirlwind of notes and firm arms and clumsiness and laughter, Yaxley-Avery-Selwyn-Rookwood-Macmillan. Selwyn held her a bit too tightly, his breath hot on her cheek; Avery had clammy hands and Yaxley's feet very nearly maimed her. Rookwood slipped something in her ear, as he relinquished her to Macmillan, that was so bitchy and yet so true that her stomach ached from contained laughter for three minutes straight, getting worse whenever she couldn't avoid glancing at her partner's face. When she eventually escaped, the few glasses of champagne she'd been handed between dances for her parched throat were starting to fill her head with bubbles. However, she was claimed next by a stone-faced Rabastan Lestrange, and all amusement gradually drained from her mind, leaving only restlessness in its wake.
"I thought you were engaged," she noted.
"Engaged, not chained up," he grunted in response, making her raise her eyebrows. "Why, yes, I am. It is still your evening, though."
"So thoughtful of you," she commented, aiming to sound pensive and not patronizing. The Rabastan she remembered knowing had been way more pleasant, and scrupulously polite – but she could understand the change, to some extent, though she still bitterly resented it.
"So where is your fiancée?" she enquired civilly.
"Which one are you talking about?" he muttered, and this time she was positive he'd had too much to drink. "Freya has taken ill. She stayed home," he added, dismissing his previous confusion with a frown.
"Oh." Narcissa's cheeks were burning; she wished nothing more than to run from Rabastan by now – possibly after pointing out that he'd only been engaged once, and not to a Black. He really had no right, she thought angrily – no right to sweep into her perfect evening and make everything start sounding like a farce, no right to act as though she owed him anything. She did not. He only had himself to blame.
"Don't look at me that way, Cissa," he told her, "We're family."
"Do not call me Cissa," she responded through gritted teeth. Her eyes leapt rapidly across the room, scanning faces to assess the level of attention she was receiving. A few young men looked like they very much wanted to be her next dance partner, and a couple of ladies had their eyes on her as well. She would have to give the impression that nothing unpleasant had happened at all when she parted from Rabastan – there was no way she could make a discreet escape. Anger at Bella's absence burned in her insides. Her sister's marriage was the one and only thing that remotely justified that Rabastan felt free to act so bold towards her, although it did not in any way make his behaviour acceptable. Bellatrix could at least have been there to make him back off from her little sister, the way herself would never dare. Bellatrix could at least have been there to attend Narcissa's first ball.
Their excuses were so feeble, each and every one of them.
The piece was finishing and Cissy firmly freed herself from Rabastan's arms, nodding to him with a forced smile before she swept on her heel and disappeared into the crowd. Purposefully, she fanned herself with her hand and headed straight for the buffet, where she picked a glass of light white wine that she sipped slowly, composing her face into a thoughtful expression. Hopefully people would wait a little before disturbing her, and she would have the time to take a seat next to a group and engage in a conversation in which she would only be required to laugh politely at the right moments and participate with a small remark once in a while. Yes, that sounded quite acceptable – feeling a little tired was so very normal after all of the pressure that had been laid upon her shoulders, after all. She had the right to at least a little of calm.
"Where are you planning to escape this time?" The voice took her completely off guard, coming unexpected from her side, and she very nearly sloshed the remains of her wine all over her dress. Whirling around wildly, she faced Lucius Malfoy, who was leaning slightly against the wide table with a glass of burgundy in his hand, his eyes intent on her.
"My apologies, I did not mean to startle you," he said at the same time as she blurted, "I do not know what you mean!", her voice much too fast and just a hint too loud not to betray how flustered she was. Heat rose, strong and searing, from her chest to her face. She simply could not embarrass herself in front of Lucius Malfoy!
"I'm sorry," he said softly, "perhaps I misinterpreted your intentions. It was simply my impression that you had the desire to get away a little, and I feared that we would all be deprived of our young hostess."
She managed to calm herself somewhat, either thanks to her own control or the appeasing undertone of his speech, but the way he had seen through her was still as alarming as it was bewildering. "And what is it that gave you that impression, pray tell?" she enquired. "I was merely enjoying a second of rest after all the dancing."
"Well, I have to admit that you struck me as being the type to run off when you are least expected to," he responded lightly. "You did it before. You were a guest at my family's manor then, if you remember…"
"Oh," she said, blushing again. The memory was quite clear in her mind; it had been the beginning of a youthful infatuation with the young Malfoy, for which her sisters had teased her mercilessly for several years. Things were different now, she told herself firmly. She was well over this, truly, and he could not make her lose control with his cool elegance and unsettling insight – he had never been aware of her feelings anyway.
"This is quite true," she spoke calmly, "but I should hope you do not usually judge everybody on their actions as a ten-year-old. I don't have a habit of fleeing from my responsibilities – and what's more, no siblings of mine are there to lure me away tonight –" she bit her tongue – "my sister left for her honeymoon in Italy, you see."
"Ah. The blame lies on the reckless sibling," he commented softly, "is it as a long-due revenge that you deserted her wedding as well, then? I saw nobody influence you at the time."
Annoyance, as well as a feeling of awkwardness, flared within Narcissa. "How very observant of you, Mr Malfoy," she snapped, "but you are wrong – again. I left to tend to my younger cousin."
"A good deed!" He smiled appreciatively. "The angel among the reckless, then. But I do not admit to being wrong easily, Miss Black. Tell me then, did you not wish to get away, right before I came to disturb you with my misplaced observations? Grace me with the truth – or how could I be enlightened?"
"If you deem that sitting down to avoid any further dancing for the moment is tantamount to getting away, why, I must plead guilty indeed," she shot back. "I was looking for a bit of calm."
Lucius Malfoy smirked. "Then I am so sorry for disturbing you," he replied lightly. "Unless you found yourself requiring, once more, a wicked influence to steal you out, it seems obvious that I have made a nuisance of myself." His smugness contradicted his words, and his steel grey eyes challenged hers in a way that made her feel distinctively off-balance.
"If there was any invitation to be found in this statement, I am afraid I must decline it," she answered though, fiercely proud of her still-steady voice, "but I do accept the apology regardless."
He smiled wider still. "Until next time, then," he said smoothly, and bowed his head to her before he walked away, sipping his drink.
Narcissa remained standing in the same spot, finding it difficult to comprehend what had just transpired between herself and Lucius Malfoy. In the mindless days of her youth his attention would have made her glow with rapture; now, however, his mysterious attitude unnerved her, and she could not seem to understand his motives. He would have needed no such step to merely approach her. It was as though he wanted something – as though he were assessing her… like his mother.
Narcissa slowly set down her empty glass and started looking for a seat. She hoped that mindless conversation would fill her head and prove to be a sufficient distraction; she had a feeling that she was otherwise in for a while of thinking herself in circles.