self titled prince

Oh, isn’t this mistletoe idea just adorably quaint? What a thrilling opportunity for someone to get a kiss from me who might not have otherwise had a chance.

Sure, they might not otherwise have had a chance - but you and I both know you’ll be thinking of me the whole time.

Narcissa was quiet for a long moment, just watching him, looking for any trace of that boy who had made her brave enough to kiss him. “It was a good kiss,” she finally said, her voice much softer. And because it seemed like he had revealed the tiniest sliver of vulnerability to her, and she wanted to be at least as brave as he was, she added, “It– was my first, you know.”

He didn’t know whether to feel surprised or relieved - or ashamed, really. “I was your first kiss?” Lucius shook his head, tearing his eyes away to instead stare at the floor. “You shouldn’t have to waste your first anything on me, no matter how ‘good’ of a kiss it was.” He laughed. “I mean, we’ve got a few more years of freedom. You might as well have your other firsts with people you actually care about.”

His words hit her like a blow, but instead of moving away, she just stepped closer. “I had no idea that wanting you to be a decent human being was too much to ask. And I don’t want perfection, I don’t need it, I just want– What happened to the boy who asked me to be his date? Who let me kiss him by the rose bushes?”

“Excuse you. Decent human beings can get high to cope with things.” He nearly sneered, taking her close stance as a challenge. Lucius hardly cared that he used the word cope to describe his habits - Narcissa seemed to be drawn to even the smallest amounts of vulnerability anyway. “You just want it, right? And you’re never told no, and it just makes you mad that I’m not perfect.” Lucius sighed again, closing his eyes in a mix of frustration and regret. “He’s still me. I still...I still smile thinking about that kiss. But that boy is the same one who gets too drunk on a Tuesday and spends his inheritance on dime bags.”

“Okay, well, the gist is if you’re going to show up to places stoned, at least pack some cologne and pick an accountability buddy to drag you away from Cissa if you’re about to blow your cover. You will thank me in the long run.”

“Yeah, no. Definitely too busy jamming to talk about that. Let’s just say I didn’t think I’d get caught, especially considering she knows virtually nothing about what being high looks like. But alas, I smoked a bowl and know she’s on a witch hunt. Wizard hunt?”

Why did things always have to become so hatefully cruel between them? In her visions of future married life, Narcissa was the perfect wife, kind and sweet and always ready with a kiss the moment he came home. So why did she tear him down every time they were together in reality? His words stung more than she cared to admit, and she fought the urge to physically recoil. “I’m sorry to hear that my presence as your date wasn’t enough to make it bearable. And I don’t hate you; or at least, I’m trying not to. Why do you make it so bloody difficult to like you?”

“You know that’s not what I meant, Narcissa. Don’t go twisting my words like that, the only person it'll end up hurting is you.” Lucius was as tense as his words, his shoulders tight and his jaw hardened in annoyance. He hated arguing like this, but as of now, it was all he and Narcissa seemed to know how to do. “I don’t act any differently around you than I do anyone else.” He crossed his arms. “You know what I think? I think you’ve built up this idea of what I’m supposed to be like, of what you want me to be like, and you’re just mad cause I’m not some cookie-cutter, mechanical pratt.”

What stunned her the most in that moment was sudden realization that he just didn’t get it. How could they be meant to be together when they saw the world so differently? “It was childish,” she snapped back. “And afterwards, when it– when everything was– And I looked for you–” Narcissa stopped herself. For how could she confess her own terror and anxiety, or how desperately she had needed him strong and collected and by her side, without sounding weak? So she glared at him instead, because at least anger felt like strength.

Although he had the urge to roll his eyes, Lucius restrained himself, fearing it would only prove Narcissa’s point. “I hate those events - they bore me to death. I had to do something to make it bearable.” He paused, furrowing his brow. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Even if I rolled a joint to cure fucking cancer, you’d still look down on me.” Internally, Lucius was cringing as he spoke. Why couldn’t he just be calm and reasonable for once? Why didn’t he know how to say sorry? In Narcissa’s muddled anger, he knew that she housed good intentions. But Lucius’ temper was inevitable. “I’m surprised you did, since you seem so adamant about hating me.”

For a moment, Narcissa almost turned on her heel and walked away. He was the absolute last person in the castle that she wanted to talk to right now, and that included the mudbloods. But walking away felt like defeat, so instead she squared her shoulders and drew her lips in together tight. “Oh? So it’s elegant to show up to a grand formal event completely baked?”

And with a single sentence, Lucius’ stomach dropped to his feet. Oh. He’d forgotten about that little incident, honestly - falling into the panic of the night, waking up more worried about what the Dark Mark inside the school meant, feeling the irrevocable burn of his own Mark... He sighed. “It was just harmless fun.”

“For the love of Merlin, learn to talk about something other than Mudbloods and death. Not only is it crass and tacky, but your sour mood is bringing down the aesthetic of the entire castle.”

“It’s like you don’t even know me, Narcissa.” Lucius scoffed, clearly unaffected by her outburst. “Nothing I do is crass or tacky, elegance is practically in my blood.” He smirked. “Honestly, the only aesthetic Hogwarts is giving me right now is Mudbloods and death.”

A flush of heat surged through her as his hands slipped down to her hips. It wasn’t entirely appropriate, not here, and yet she couldn’t seem to pull herself away from him. She didn’t kiss him again, though, even though she wanted to. When he first started talking, she almost caved, utterly drawn in by his openness and honesty. He leaned in closer and she giggled, drunk on affection and romance and the happiness in his smile.

“I’d be lying, darling.” He said, honestly. Not that he fully understood the anger in Narcissa’s words - if he had, he’d at least done some damage control, try to pick up the pieces that he’d just smashed. “No, no. Aelius texted me. He had a bowl, nothing was happening in the show - I was only gone for ten minutes tops.” Lucius said, shrugging casually. “But who cares? I’m having fun. Have fun with me.” He took her arm, spinning her to the music. “Let’s dance. I’m a good dancer when I’m...” He giggled again. “High.”

“You just seem very… I don’t know, sillier than usual. Looser.” She kissed him back for a moment but pulled away shortly, although she let him keep his arms around her waist. Her cheeks were flushed a rosy pink, and it had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. “Lucius, this really isn’t the place to be… making a spectacle of ourselves, don’t you think?”

“Sorry,” He giggled again, the effects of the bowl he’d smoked not even fifteen minutes ago finally hitting him. Narcissa seemed more and more like just another girl as he became more undone, his morals and ideals melting away. Lucius’ hands dragged from her waist to her hips in a fluid movement, becoming much too close for comfort - more Narcissa’s than Lucius’. “I just can’t control myself around you. I always want to kiss you. But then you make me so mad. Want to know a secret? You drive me absolutely crazy.” He took a breath before leaning in close to her ear, cupping his hands to tell another secret. “And don’t tell Cissa, cause she’ll be really mad, and I really like her, but I’m baked like a fucking cake.”

She watched him closely, the beginnings of a frown at the corners of her eyes. “You’re rather ridiculous tonight, you know that? If I didn’t know the professors are closely monitoring all the punch bowls, I’d think you were drunk.” But she couldn’t keep the smile off her face at the silly, exaggerated endearment. “I might want to kiss you. Perhaps. But the real question is… Do you want to kiss me? I do believe it’s your turn to initiate, after all.”

He giggled again, taking Narcissa’s hand. “No, I swear. I haven’t been drinking. I wouldn’t dream of it.” At least Lucius wasn’t lying about that, which he considered a victory for tonight. “Kiss you? Alright.” Another softer laugh. Lucius wrapped his arms around Narcissa’s waist, not unlike he would with any other date - and tilted her over, kissing her in a way that could only draw attention to themselves.

“Oh. Um, thank you. I’ve always loved your name, the way it just… rolls off the tongue. And confidence is something we Slytherins should exemplify, don’t you think? It’s practically our duty, which is what I keep reminding the weepier first years.” Narcissa blushed at the talk of kissing, although she held his gaze. “Kiss you again? I might want to, perhaps, but not when you tell me to.”

“Rolls off the tongue.” He repeated, before mouthing his own name a few times. Lucius, Lucius, Lucius. “I guess so. Lucius.” He repeated his name once more, really concentrating on the long u sound, his lips puckering as he said it. “See. You’re already pink, and my lips are already puckered up. Besides, I didn’t tell you to kiss me, I asked if you wanted to. There’s a difference, darling.” Lucius drew out the front syllable of darling much like he did with his own name, although this time, his tongue rolled with the r sound.

“I certainly didn’t choose my name, so I can’t very well be blamed for it, can I? And, thank you for your support… and your ring. It’s so beautiful, Lucius, and it means the world to me that you wanted me to have it, I can’t even begin to tell you…”

“Well, either way, I think you’ve got a good one. A good name, I mean. It’s like, you’re beautiful and you know it - and last I checked confidence wasn’t a bad thing.” Lucius nearly giggled at the mention of the ring. “I know, right? I’m so smooth. Doesn’t it make you want to kiss me again?” Accompanied by what could only be described as bedroom eyes, Lucius blew two kisses.

And some people like to say I’m hopelessly self-centered. Well, as long as I have your support, I don’t care if you give it from the top of the astronomy tower. And speaking of magnificent views…. Doesn’t my dress just look lovely in these lights?

“You can’t blame them, it’s in your name, Miss Black. As for my support, you know I always have your back. Especially when you wear that ring - which by the way, is all the talk of the evening.” He smiles, although Lucius is slower to answer this time. “Mm. You look great, I know that much. But it’s just so bright in here. Do your eyes hurt?”

“What if they’re all in on it and are helping cover each other’s tracks? I mean, that’s got to be step one with getting away with murder, right?”

“You know, that’s actually kind of brilliant. But then we get into the whole Prisoner’s Dilemma...who really trusts anyone? How loyal are your accomplices? It’s a stupid strategy, but who says these dinner guests are smart, right?”

Thinking about me? You must have me confused with the rest of the people you’ve bedded. Besides, it adds to the fun if you play along.

You asked how you were, and you were certainly memorable. Fine - you want me to play along. At the time of the murder, I was in my dorm, carefully polishing my wand.