Chapter 13: Some Bewitching Under the Moonlight

"Your task is not to seek for love,

but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself

that you have built against it."

~ Rumi

Hermione could not keep her food down. She played with it on her plate, whilst watching Narcissa from the corner of her eyes; the other witch seemed as dispassioned from her food as her. Silver eyes were rimmed by dark circles. Hermione realized Andromeda hadn't been lying; Narcissa hadn't slept.

They were sitting around a large, opulent dinner table. Narcissa had seated herself between her nephew, Teddy, and Andromeda. She had remained silent for much of dinner after having apologized to Hermione in a rather detached manner: "I am sorry for having nearly killed you, Ms. Granger, but you must realize you trespassed into my manor," she had whispered coolly. At that, Andromeda had given her sister a rather gelid and disapproving stare. "Really, Cissy?" she had said under her breath when she had thought Hermione hadn't been paying attention.

Andromeda was now investigating her memory. "So, you cannot recall anything?" she asked.

Hermione pursed her lips as she thought hard. She could only recall arriving at the manor. She had been attempting to find Narcissa; that night, Hermione had found the tingling sensation in her hand would increase when she would go in certain directions. She had recalled Harry's scar, and had pondered if hers functioned in a similar manner. So, she had followed the sensation, which had led her to a large and very complex yet stupid library…

Everything following that was a blur.

Hermione frowned. Through her peripheral vision, she noticed Narcissa biting on her lips. She had come to understand through her interactions with Narcissa that the witch only bit on her lips when she was tremendously nervous. What could she possibly be nervous about? wondered Hermione. Was Narcissa perhaps afraid of what she could and could not remember?

Did Narcissa want her to not remember a memory?

The only way she could find out was if she decided to lie about how much she could recall. "I'm starting to remember more," she lied to Andromeda. Narcissa suddenly eyed her. Silver eyes expanded.

Ah.

So, there were indeed things that had occurred between them that the blonde did not want her to remember.

Hermione smirked. That devious, cunning woman. Had she perhaps tinkered with her memories? No. Andromeda had been with her the entire time, so she would have kept Narcissa ethical during the treatment of her wound.

"Splendid," said Andromeda. "I'm sure you'll start to remember more with time, although there is very little to be recalled," said Andromeda. "You were sleeping for the past four days. We were terribly worried, especially Narcissa."

Hermione thought of Narcissa tending to her wound. She gazed at Narcissa briefly and noticed the witch was purposely diverting her attention; she was wiping Teddy's face with a napkin. Her cheeks were splashed with pink. Wait. Was she blushing? Hermione mentally sniggered.

The corner of her lips upturned, and just then, Narcissa's gaze lifted from Teddy and fell on hers. The blonde noticed the smug smirk and her brows creased.

Furious, she rose from her seat. "I have other matters I must attend to," she declared. "Excuse me."

Andromeda rolled her eyes. When Narcissa had left, she began to chuckle. "The two of you are absolute imbeciles."

Hermione frowned… because Andromeda was right.

"Go after her," said Andromeda. Her knowing eyes twinkled. Hermione felt her cheeks turn warm. "And don't fall for her bitter words."

She nodded, left the dinner table, and followed the sound of heels clicking and clacking against the ground. The scar on her hand was also tingling pleasantly again, which meant Narcissa was nearby. Hermione moved through the corridors and noted that the eyes of everyone in the portraits were upon her. They were whispering and muttering. It seemed Hermione's presence in the manor had caused a stir amongst the portraits.

All of a sudden, Narcissa's heels were clacking against the marble floors more swiftly; she knew Hermione was behind her.

"Narcissa!" Hermione cried out, because fuck formalities. They were very much beyond formalities.

They were going to have a child together.

Hermione arrived to the foyer. On the spiral staircase before her, she caught sight of Narcissa's back. Long tendrils of blonde hair flowed down her white gown. Hermione shivered from beholding the moonlight as it peered in through the windows and made Narcissa's whole person shimmer.

"Narcissa," she said again, but this time, very softly.

Her voice had been but a whisper, and yet Narcissa had heard her, for she had halted. A moment passed in silence. Then, Narcissa began to march again. "Narcissa," said Hermione again. "This is ridiculous," she continued when she began to climb up the stairs. "We are having a child together—"

Suddenly, a female voice boomed: "So, this is the Mudblood! Now, really Narcissa, you could have done much better. Merlin, look at her hair!" Hermione turned her attention to where the voice had ushered from, and there she saw a pale woman with blonde hair and angry silver eyes. Next to her portrait was the portrait of a man with dark, unruly hair and black eyes. These were most likely Narcissa's awful parents.

She didn't have time to introduce herself to them, as Narcissa was walking away.

"Narcissa," she called after her once more. "Stop for a moment, will you? You're the one always walking away and you want me to believe that I'm the coward."

Narcissa turned her head around to her for a moment. The grey in her eyes had shifted to blue. Hermione noticed her complexion had paled.

The woman was about to walk into a chamber—her room, most likely. Hermione swiftly sprinted towards the chamber, and just as its door was about to close on her, she managed to dive into the room.

Tired from the exertion, seeing how she had not even fully recovered, Hermione's heart was pounding loudly. But once settled into the room, she could not understand why her heart had begun to pound even louder.

She tried to find blonde tendrils and did: Narcissa was standing in the veranda with her back towards her. Her nearly white hair was swaying softly in the wind, while her arms were folded against her chest. She was either lost in thought or waiting for her to speak first.

Hermione knew the Slytherin was always aware of her environs; Narcissa knew of her presence, and was waiting for her to speak.

So, she walked gingerly towards the woman. "Narcissa?" she whispered behind her.

But, she did not turn around. Hermione thought she had seen her tremor.

She reached Narcissa, and faced her side profile. Silver eyes were staring at the stars.

"Narcissa, we must speak," she murmured firmly.

Narcissa's lips curled slowly. She remained quiet for a moment; but then, she said, "Don't say my name." The usual edge and coldness to her tone was missing. It had not been a reprimand; it had been a plea. She had pled, as if she would break and shatter if Hermione did not confer… if she called her by her name again. Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat; Narcissa's vulnerable and delicate soul was frightening to behold. She wished to bring her near, to hold her tightly in her arms, to be the barriers she had put around herself.

"I will call you by your name," she countered. If Narcissa thought she was a coward, she would show her she was not.

At this, the pale witch shivered. Her hands trembled. Hermione caught her burying them beneath her elbows. She enfolded her arms more snugly to hide them.

This woman did not want to reveal her fragility.

But, could she not remember that she already had on that battlefield when they had been enemies— when she had been holding a wand to her own chest?

"Narcissa. You were trying to commit suicide that day," whispered Hermione. "I was there. I stopped you. Remember?"

Narcissa shut her eyes, and pursed her lips, as if she knew this moment had been coming, where Hermione would pierce through her every layer, every wall, until she was left bare and raw, shaking and trembling before her.

"Don't," she begged once more, but it had been whispered weakly, as she had intuited her plea would not be granted.

Her instinct had been right. Hermione continued, pushed on. She was unrelenting. "I've always known why." Narcissa clenched her eyes harder. "You wanted to kill yourself because what you loved most was gone. And even though it was someone else who had killed Draco, you thought you had killed him. You thought you could have saved him if you had been stronger before difficult choices. You are always blaming yourself now. You're always wondering if Draco would have been alive if you had left Lucius long ago, and turned your back on your family." Hermione sighed. "But, I want to tell you why you never left Lucius until now. Know that it wasn't because you were a coward."

Narcissa opened her eyes and gently turned her head towards Hermione. Silver eyes were now sky blue, and they were glimmering. They stood still under the moonlight for a moment.

Until Hermione reached out and wrapped her hand around Narcissa's wrist.

Narcissa's pursed lips parted from the unexpected deed. Her enfolded arms fell apart at her touch. Hermione was both frightened and emboldened by her effect. She moved her hand from Narcissa's wrist to her hand. And then, she remembered a hazy memory: she recalled the sensation of a delicate hand wrapped around hers. Wet tears falling against her neck. A woman, who smelled of roses and sandalwood, and whispers laced with pain.

Hermione took the plunge; she pulled on Narcissa's hand and brought it to her chest, then held it there, above her throbbing heart. The scent of roses and sandalwood had become strong. Narcissa was a breath away now. Hermione stared at her eyes; they were blue oceans instead of silver daggers. "You stayed with Lucius," she whispered, "and you didn't leave your parents, because you didn't want to hurt them. Not because you were a coward. You stayed because you cared too much."

Nervous, Narcissa gulped. She stared silently back at Hermione. Then, she shook her head from side to side and tried to frantically untangle her hand from Hermione's.

But Hermione would not let go.

Narcissa's lips quivered. "Leave me be," she whispered.

"No," answered Hermione.

"No... You don't know me," she countered.

"No... I think I do," Hermione rebutted.

The beautiful, secretive witch closed her eyes.

"Open your eyes," murmured Hermione. "You can't hide from me."

A shimmering tear fell down Narcissa's ivory skin.

So, Hermione moved her free hand to the woman's cheek, and flicked the tear away with her thumb. And suddenly, another fragment of the memory was brought to her consciousness: "...When my tears fell on your wound, it somehow began to heal…" Narcissa had whispered. "However, it cannot be me. No. I shall not allow it. If there are gods, they are wrong." She had then sniffled. "You must know that it is best for you this way... For I am heartless and cold and undeserving…"

Hermione smirked as this fragment of the memory played before her mind's eyes. "Narcissa?" she whispered. "Open your eyes… or I'm afraid I'll kiss you."

Narcissa let out a soft gasp; her delicate hand trembled in her grasp, while her beguiling eyes fluttered open.

And they were terribly blue.

Hermione couldn't help but drown in her oceans. "Narcissa?" she whispered again. "You will trust me even less after this," she divulged. She put her free hand around the complicated and stubborn woman's waist, then pulled her to herself.

Narcissa's black pupils dilated. Her lips parted. She was like a flame; Hermione could feel her warmth.

A beat.

"Hermione," whispered Narcissa. "Don't—"

Hermione inched closer. "Shhh. Too late," she breathed against Narcissa's lips.

And then, she slowly, very slowly touched her fleshy lips with hers.

"No…" she moaned, while sighing softly against them.

"No," Hermione echoed back. Narcissa was under her spell. She let her tongue lightly move across her pearly teeth before pulling her face away for a moment. "Let me in," she whispered, demanded.

For a second, she wondered if Narcissa would oblige.

And then, to her surprise, she did.

Bewitched, Narcissa's eyes rolled back, as she unclenched her teeth and let her in.

They explored each other for as long as they could hold their breaths.

And when they had become breathless, they rested their foreheads against each other.

Hermione still held Narcissa's soft, smooth hand tightly against her heart, forcing her to feel each pound, each ache. The world around them had fallen away; lost in the scent of roses and sandalwood, Hermione wished the moment could last forever.

But, of course, nothing lasts forever.

"No," Narcissa whimpered again, fading out of Hermione's spell. At this, Hermione's heart dropped. She sensed barriers reforming. She could feel wet lashes against her cheek; hot tears were flowing down from Narcissa's eyes.

Hermione frowned and let go of the witch's hand. She slowly tucked a wayward tuft of her blonde hair behind her ear, and stared into her glimmering eyes. She had been crying. She remembered something else: "I don't know why… but you frighten me," Narcissa had whispered while soaked in her blood.

She gently kissed a streak of tears. "Be cool and heartless, Narcissa," whispered Hermione next to her ear. Narcissa's breath hitched. "If you wish, hurt me. But, don't decide for me…" said Hermione firmly but tenderly. Then, she paused and smirked by Narcissa's cheek before pulling her head back, and staring down at her glowing eyes. Pining yet hesitant, they were shifting from blue to silver to blue to silver…

"And what if I can be cool and heartless too. Hmm?" Hermione then murmured. She laid a gentle peck against her lips.

"Hermione…" Narcissa breathed out her name; a hand reached out, and clasped the cloth above Hermione's chest.

Instead of obliging, Hermione untangled her lean hand from her blouse, and silently turned away from her. Narcissa just as silently watched Hermione leave, while holding the hand that had been untangled to her breast. Flustered, fearful and wanting, she was softly trembling from her inner chaos.

Author's Note:

So, finally... you read the moment you have probably been waiting for: The First Kiss.

Did it live up to your expectation?

And... poor, stubborn Narcissa. It seems she has met someone as stubborn as her. :(

As always, thank you for your reviews. They really help me become more creative!