fin (lessthangreat) wrote in spellbookfics,

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Well, I tried to make it Sunday, but I got so damn depressed, so I set my sights on Monday.

Title: Seven Things That Narcissa Black Malfoy Never Told a Soul
Rating: PG
Summary: Narcissa had a lot of memories. Some she has no problem sharing, but others...are best kept to herself.
Character List: Narcissa, Sirius, Regulus, Snape, Lucius, Draco
Pairings: Narcissa/Lucius
Genre: General. Kind of serious, mostly.
Warnings: Er...cheating? A bit?
WIP?: Nope.
Criticism?: Please. I'm really proud of this, but I'd like to know how others see it.

Seven Things That Narcissa Never Told Anyone

1. Bellatrix always said he was trouble, but Sirius was Narcissa's favourite cousin when they were children. He was four years younger than she was, and to most kids, that would be a big age difference, but Narcissa didn't care because he'd always had something interesting in a box to show her when he visited. First it was a tree frog. Then it was a butterfly. Then there were a few more things before the thing that was, "I’m not really sure what it is, I was hoping you'd know," and a couple more until, "I couldn't find anything as cool as the last time, but I'm learning how to draw so I thought I'd show's a kneazle...."

It had been a very good drawing, and Sirius had gotten more handsome every time Narcissa saw him, so that when she had been home on Christmas holidays from her second year at Hogwarts, she'd told him, "The girls will be all over you in a few years, Sirius." She had laughed at his scrunched up expression and kissed him on the cheek, "Just only date the Slytherins, okay? They're the only good ones." She kind of knew that he didn't really know what that meant but he nodded just the same and promised her. Because that was the kind of cousin he was. She knew that.

She did not know that he was the kind of cousin who wasn't even a Slytherin until his first night at Hogwarts. When she heard the hat shout "Gryffindor!" she'd screamed. Yes, she knew she had screamed even though she could never recall actually doing it. Sirius must have heard her, or perhaps it was really just his initial reaction, because the first place he'd looked was not at the Gryffindor table, but at her. She'd never forgotten the look in his eyes. She had no idea how she looked, but however it was, she knew just by locking eyes with him that he knew – he was never going to be her favourite anymore.

And he wasn't.

2. Regulus was five years old when she decided to make him her new favourite. He was barely five and a half when she realized that it was a waste of her time. He was boring. He was weak. He couldn't even draw despite the many hours she'd tried teaching him, just to make him seem a little bit more like Sirius.

He'd figured it out, too. That she was trying to make him more like his brother. He was six when, at a summer family gathering, he sat next to her at the lunch table and nudged her elbow until she looked at him and said, "I'm sorry I'm not Sirius." She was not the only one who'd heard him.

"DON'T APOLOGIZE FOR THAT, BOY! WE'RE GLAD YOU'RE NOT SIRIUS!" their mother had shouted, which had caused everyone else to shout, which had thankfully allowed Narcissa and her total agreement with Regulus' statement to disappear into the background without notice or fanfare.

3. She has not always been faithful to Lucius Malfoy. She has, of course, made everyone – including him – think that. Because he was a pureblood and she was a pureblood and technically they had been "betrothed" since she was eight and he was ten. The thing with pureblood parents, though, was that even though they used that word – "betrothed" – it was not entirely binding. Their children were pureblood and therefore, if they chose not to marry the person picked out for them, then so be it – their decisions were respected since, after all, their blood was pure; they must know what they are talking about.

And so when she was a seventh year and Lucius was out of sight and mind, generally, she'd taken to looking out for a certain Severus Snape. He was, like Sirius, four years younger, but for some reason, she'd enjoyed his company. He was intelligent, capable, and quite funny actually. In that sarcastic sort of way, same as her. And one night he had asked her for a bit of help with Astronomy – his worst subject, for everyone has a weak spot – and it was that night that she'd found herself on top of the Astronomy tower with Severus, helping him with charts and graphs and drawings.

It was him who had originally initiated it. He'd kissed her quickly and sweetly and then pulled away, blushing profusely and burying his face into his textbook. She hadn't been nearly as shocked as she supposed she should have been, and after a moment or two, she had pulled him up by the neck and kissed him – not at all like he'd kissed her. Her kiss was insistent, a little forceful, and it quickly involved tongues and heavy breathing and hands pulling faces closer, as if that was possible.

4. After that, it had never happened again until the night before her wedding to Lucius, when she had – under the whim of what she believed to be what they called cold feet – led Severus to a room in the rear of the Malfoy Manor, locked the door, and immediately taken to unabashedly "sucking his face off," as he'd put it. He'd done nothing to stop her, notably, but ten minutes later, when she'd finally pulled away from him for a chance to get her breathing back to normal, he'd squeezed her hand softly, as only he could, unlocked the door, and left the room. She was promised to Lucius, after all.

5. Draco didn't ever cry until he was two years old. It terrified her, him not crying. She thought there was something awfully wrong with it, but Lucius never minded. He'd said that it was an excellent sign that their son didn't cry. "He's going to be a strong man," Lucius had said with a smirk as he flipped through the Daily Prophet.

Once Draco started crying, however, Lucius insisted it was Narcissa's fault. "You coddled him. Now he thinks that if he cries, he can get whatever he wants." It was true. Narcissa recognized that. But she never pointed out that Lucius was equally at fault. Whenever Lucius had done something that Narcissa seemed to think was a bad move for him as a father, he'd bought an extravagant gift for Draco – extravagant for a baby, at least. And when Draco finally began to cry, if it was because of something Lucius did, Lucius scolded him for whining and generally behaving like a child, and then two days later, presented Draco with another expensive, wonderful gift that he felt made up for whatever his mistake had been.

It bothered Narcissa to no end.

6. The day after Draco's seventh birthday, Lucius had performed the Imperius Curse on him, making him chirp like a bird and kick Dobby the house elf. When he'd taken it off of him, Lucius told Draco that it was for his own good; he was teaching him to resist it. This had continued, not daily nor even weekly, but sporadically, so that Draco could not expect it, over the next two years. On Draco's ninth birthday, Lucius had tried to make him open a present before Narcissa had even woken up. He'd resisted the curse almost effortlessly. It had made Lucius so secretly proud that he'd gone into the master bedroom and rudely awakened Narcissa, just to tell her the news.

She always knew it should have bothered her, that her husband was using an Unforgivable Curse on her son. But she'd always thought that Lucius had a point – Draco should know how to resist that power. He shouldn't let someone control him with a simple curse. It'd made her just as proud as it had made Lucius. The only difference was that she had had no problem showing it.

7. A weaker woman would have shied away from the public if her husband was thrown into Azkaban for being a Death Eater. Narcissa, however, had held her head high when she'd gone to Platform 9 ¾ to meet her son. She'd seen them all staring, felt their eyes boring into her. She'd heard their whispers – "What is she doing just waltzing about like that?" "Her husband's in prison; she should be home grieving his memory, she's never going to see him again." "Who does she think she is?"

I am a Black, she'd thought proudly. And I am a Malfoy. And when she'd caught sight of her son, how disconcerted he'd looked until he saw her, and how relieved he seemed to be when their eyes met, she'd thought, And I am a mother.

They'd returned to the Malfoy Manor in absolute silence. Draco had immediately retired to his bedroom, and Narcissa had slipped into the largest, most comfortable chair in the whole house. It happened to be located in the one room that was practically made up entirely of remnants of Lucius-and-Narcissa. Wedding photos, keepsakes, the Malfoy family tree that Lucius had enchanted to make Narcissa's name sparkle gold and blue – "To match your hair and perfect eyes, my love" – a portrait that a very talented young wizard at Hogwarts – Narcissa could not remember his name – had drawn and painted of the two of them when they were still students....She was everywhere in this room. Everywhere with Lucius.

I am a wife.
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