Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition - Season 11, Final

Team: Holyhead Harpies

Position: Keeper

Word Count: 1,498

Prompt: Emma Frost

Summary: Narcissa just wants to fit in or have her magic make an appearance, one or the other will do.

Notes: I've based this on when Emma's powers come into fruition. I also realise now how the films did Emma Frost dirty! She's a powerhouse!

Warnings: Bullying

A Touch of Brimstone

Narcissa sighed when she saw the children from the village having a snowball fight in the main square. She paused for a moment on the corner of the street, her mittened hands pulling nervously at the ends of her scarf. Did she continue on her walk around the village, as instructed by her mother, or did she turn around and return home? She could feign one of the headaches she'd been struggling with lately.

Her mother only sent her on these walks, by herself, to show her what her life will be like if she doesn't show some accidental magic soon. At nine years old, she was nearly two years behind Bellatrix and three behind Andromeda from when they first showed their magic. Her father disapproved of the walks, concerned she would enjoy mixing with the Muggles, however, he did like to prove a point, and this was an excellent one her mother was making.

It was easier when her sisters were here; Andromeda would protect her and Bellatrix would berate her. Either way, they drew her attention away from the cruelty that the village children liked to inflict when they saw her. But this was her first year without one or both around, now that they were at Hogwarts. She still had another two years before she would join them… Of course, that was if she received her letter.

Taking a deep breath, Narcissa dropped her hands to her sides, pulled her shoulders back, just like Andromeda had shown her, and started to walk towards the square, choosing the best route she could where she might not be noticed by them. There were only six of them, four boys and two girls close to her age, but it may as well have been a hundred with how rotten they made her feel when they saw her.

"You're a Black, child! Act like one."

Her mother's words echoed around her head as she took each step, her eyes firmly on the path ahead towards the church at the edge of the village.

"Freak!"

"Weirdo!"

The names were never said loudly, they were always said gently with a hint of malicious humour in their voices. If she was close enough, they were whispered with a hiss, like snakes rearing up to attack.

Her step faltered as she glanced towards them. Then she stopped, having seen them lined up to watch her. She searched around for adults, the ones who were sensible enough to fear the Black family and would prevent anything happening to Narcissa, but none were to be found. They were all tucked away in their warm homes, probably enjoying each other's company, unlike her parents.

"Do you want to join us?" one of the girls asked.

She didn't know any of their names, but they all knew hers.

The other girl nodded, with an encouraging smile. The boys glanced questioningly at each other.

She really did want to join them, to be part of something. To be accepted for who she was.

"Would that be okay?" Narcissa found herself asking, even though a voice in her head told her to take heed at the confusion of the boys.

"Of course," the other girl agreed.

She took a step towards them. The boys no longer looked confused, but rather happy for her to now join them in their fun and games.

Narcissa looked towards the church she was heading towards, then in the direction of her home sitting at the other end of the village. The Blacks had always lived in that home, close to Muggles, as to remind the family they were superior to them as they watched them go about their lives, doing everything without magic.

"Come on, it's just a snowball fight," one of the boys said, the impatience clear in his voice at her hesitation.

"Okay," she said, unable to keep her happiness out of her own voice.

She walked quickly over to them, smiling a little as she neared them, forgetting that moments ago they'd called her names. They said nothing as they circled her. One of the girls – the one who had asked if she wanted to join them – reached out to touch her long, blonde hair that curled at the ends.

"I wish my hair could be this colour," she said wistfully.

"Clara!" the other girl said her name sharply, yanking her hand away from Narcissa.

Clara's fingers caught in a couple of strands at the unexpected movement. A small cry of pain escaped Narcissa as she pressed a hand to her head. She looked to the girl who had pulled Clara's hand, expecting an apology, but none was forthcoming.

"We don't touch the weirdo," the girl said, giving Narcissa a saccharine smile.

"I don't think I should join you anymore," Narcissa said quietly, already backing away, her dark boots slipping slightly in the snow.

"Don't be like that," one of the boys said, kneeling down to scoop up some snow. "We're only messing."

"It's just a game we play with each other," the unnamed girl added, now dipping down to gather some snow as well.

Narcissa looked to Clara, but her eyes were firmly to the ground, watching the other boys collecting snow in their gloved hands. She continued to step backwards, not wanting to give her back to them, and glanced towards the church. If she ran home, her parents would punish her for not standing up to them, so the church was her safe bet. The vicar had always been friendly to her.

The first snowball hit her squarely in the chest, taking her breath away with the force. She coughed a little as she looked at the boy who had thrown it, all dark eyes and dark hair with a dark smile. "You wanted to join us," he said dangerously.

The snow was starting to melt into her coat, the icy water sending a shiver down her spine. The next snowball hit her at the side of her neck, flecks of it immediately sliding down past her scarf and her collar. She turned to walk away, swallowing against the lump in her throat, her chest constricting painfully, but she lost her footing and fell heavily onto her hands and knees.

That was all it took.

The snowballs came thick and fast, her clothes and hair soaked in less than a minute. She curled up in a ball, her arms covering her head and tucked her face into her scarf. Each one hurt so much that she was sure they were putting stones in the snowballs.

Then one managed to hit her sharply on her temple, the one bit of her head she hadn't managed to cover, and her lingering headache from the morning exploded. It sent blinding light through her eyes and she screamed with the pain of it. She shifted so that she could grip her head, anything to ease the pressure building, and screamed once more as she tried to sit up.

In that one movement, the pain pulsated out of her body. She felt every bit of it rush from her in a powerful blast that couldn't be seen, leaving her breathing raggedly with her eyes squeezed shut.

Narcissa waited for the next snowball, but it never came.

Instead, a 'pop' came, followed by another, then another, then a 'crack'. She opened her eyes to find wizards and witches dressed in Ministry cloaks surrounding her and the limp bodies of the children lying on the floor. They looked like they were taking a peaceful nap, with their chests rising and falling steadily.

Narcissa let a hard breath go, her head finally free of the constant ache it had had for the past year.

"She's got the adults too," a witch called from the entrance of a nearby cottage, closing the door behind her.

A wizard nearby, a face she knew but couldn't place, knelt down in front of her. "You've been holding that in for a while, haven't you?" he asked kindly.

"I didn't mean to."

"Of course you didn't." He held his gloved hand out to her. "Let's get you home while we clean this up, Miss Black."

Narcissa nodded, letting him help her stand. He made swift work of cleaning the small cut on her temple and drying her clothes, before holding his elbow out for her to take. She looked back at the children as she was led away; they looked so nice and kind while they slept, but she knew better.

"I'm sure your parents will be relieved," the wizard chattered away as he walked her home. "You're a bit of a late one."

She nodded, feeling a rush of heat in her cheeks at the shame of taking so long to show her magic.

But then something else took over the shame. Confidence.

Let those children try something now that she knew she had magic. She wasn't a Squib.

One day they would truly pay for what they'd done.