narcissa aryn malfoy

He laughed without humor, shaking his head and leaning back in his seat. “And you think–what? That I did? Andi and I both left the family, Cissa, of our own volition. The only person I was thinking of was myself, because at that point it was leave or possibly be killed.” By whose hand, he couldn’t say: his mother, his father, Bellatrix, maybe even himself. “Why try to bring me back into the family when you could do the same for her?”

He listened as Narcissa went on and on, seemingly convinced by her own ramblings that Sirius could simply waltz back into his old life after being blasted from the family tree just because he had some sort of change in heart. That wasn’t reality though, and for some reason his cousin couldn’t see that. It made him both pity and envy that she still had a bit of optimism. “You don’t get it,” he said slowly. “If I were to step within a fifty-foot radius of Bellatrix or Walburga, both would terrorize or try to kill me, or even both if given the chance. I’m already in the Ministry as an Auror, so I don’t need help with that. I’ve got a place of my own to live in, and I highly doubt your darling husband would let me stay with you if I took up your offer.” He closed his eyes and was quiet for a moment, a headache throbbing behind his eyes. “Everything you say I’m supposed to have is everything I don’t want. Even if I had been considering betraying the people I consider my family and going back to you lot, I would’ve changed my mind once I heard that a blood supremacist cursed everyone in the UK who wanted a child to either have a stillborn or die themselves trying to bring their kid into the world. Especially when the chances are worse off for muggleborns.” He had far too many muggleborn friends to let that slide.

Sirius sighed and stood, looking down at her. “If all you invited me out here for was to do some hair brain scheme and try to bring me back into the family, then I should go, because that’s not going to happen.” The sad part was, a small bit of him was hoping she was actually trying to reach out and reconnect despite his disownment. Now he knew that was a fucking lie.

Narcissa hated that he was laughing at her. She hated that she had spent so many restless nights devising the plan and so many more building the courage to present it to him. She hated that he wasn’t considering it, and she hated even more that he was ridiculing it. She hated that her heart raced so fast that she couldn’t even tell him how angry he was making her, how much he was hurting her. Her blue eyes were brimmed with tears and her hand shook as took a sip of her water, two unfortunate side effects of the insecurity in her own anger. Like all Black children, she had witnessed anger at a young age. She had seen people throw objects and insults and curses as though such things had no more impact than playing cards in a game of Go Fish — Do you care about me? Go fish. Do you care about anyone? Go fish. She had learned all the ways she didn’t want to express herself. The ability to hurt people without empathy had skipped a sister or two. She had never learned how to properly express her anger and consequently didn’t, until she did.

Her words intruded upon his, quietly at first then louder, desperate to be heard, desperate for Sirius to stop talking. “Our house is better than your’s. No one likes an Auror. Lucius doesn’t even notice that I’m there. I’m just trying to help you. That’s not my fault. You can’t keep blaming me for things that I didn’t do!” 

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes once more at Narcissa’s barely disguised disdain, James pushes one of his hands deeper into his pocket. If only she knew, he thinks with amusement, just how many gentlemanly lessons Euphemia Potter had managed to cram into his brain. Years of having only adults for company had left James with exceptional manners, if he did say so himself, even if he often chose not to use half of them. “That exact shop? Really?” James questions, although he is more curious than he is surprised. Old Pureblooded families were often well-know for their superstitions, alongside their prejudice. “Wouldn’t have taken you for a prophetess, Cissy darling.”

Stepping into the store, James can’t help the almost chill that rushes down his spine and he fights the urge to freeze where he stands. The entire store causes the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end and he’s almost overcome with the urge to bolt from the store as fast as he can. He is, however, a Gryffindor, and a mighty stubborn one at that, so he remains where he is, turning his head slightly at the sound of Narcissa’s voice. “I already know how I plan to die. Surrounded by my wife and at least twelve children at the age of 200,” James says, masking his uncertainty behind obnoxious humour. If he was actually honest, he actually imagined his death to be much, much sooner, likely in defence of the first of those children. Reaching for the tin of tea leaves, James quirks a brow at Narcissa. “Now what? We just steal them?”

Cissy. The nickname sounded more like an insult coming from someone who knew her no more than a stranger. It was a sacred endearment, one that neither her parents nor her husband ever dared to partake in for its aspect of immaturity. It certainly wasn’t meant for the lips of James Potter. Narcissa decided that she wouldn’t allow anyone to call her by such a tag anymore now that it had been tainted — except Bellatrix, because she couldn’t tell her older sister what to do, and Alexander, because the way he said it sounded like a sweet melody, and Sirius, because it was one of the few, very subtle ways her estranged cousin showed he still cared for her. Once she eliminated the only people who truly did call her Cissy from the new rule, she decided that it wouldn’t be right to punish all for the sins of one. Instead, she said, “Don’t call me that.”

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The respectable answer that parted Narcissa’s lips never escaped. She wanted desperately to answer no, to say that she wouldn’t want to experience parenthood with anyone besides her own husband, but such an answer wasn’t honest. “I wish it was Alex,” she whispered, ashamed of her own feelings. “We’ve talked about it before; about leaving, and getting married, and having a family. We know everything about each other, and I know that we would have the same ideas about how we want to raise our children. And… Alex loves me. Lucius doesn’t love anyone. I don’t think he could if he tried.”

@slytherdaddy​

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“Finding out I was pregnant. I’ve always wanted to be a mother, but… It wasn’t like I thought it would be.” When she was young, and especially in the early years of her marriage, she imagined the moment to be filled with pure happiness and joy — perhaps in the trusting company of the family’s private healers, and certainly in the company of a loving husband. “It’s hard to be happy about something when you realize you can’t trust anyone enough to share it with them.” 

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“I’ve thought about a few, but I don’t know if I’m truly considering them,” she said. It was both fortunate and unfortunate that the mother-to-be had a few more months to decide on a name, as changing her mind every week was becoming a pattern. “I have a whole book of names that I haven’t even glanced at yet. Right now, I like Estelle and Selene for a girl, and Draco and Castor for a boy. I don’t know, though. I think when the baby’s born, and I hold them for the first time, I’ll just… know.”

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The woman’s mind was a catalog of regrets. She chose a simpler one for now until another day, when she has more comfortable divulging another. “Letting my mother pick my wedding dress. It was a fine dress and I looked absolutely beautiful,” she assured. “But… It would have been nice to have control over something that day.” 

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Cissa pondered the question for a moment or two. There were many secrets she kept and many that she shared and sometimes, it was difficult to remember which were which. “My crush on Leo Zabini in our fourth year,” she decided. “I should have known that once I told my dorm mates about it, then they would tell everyone. I don’t know why I made such a fuss over him, but I wish I would have kept it to myself. It was massively embarrassing when he still didn’t ask me out. It would be easier to face him now if I wasn’t so embarrassed over something that happened years ago.”

Fabian had forgotten this. Narcissa, when they were kids, had had a way matched by very few, possibly no one, ever since of making Fabian feel like an idiot. He thought it might be that icy drawl of hers. “These are dangerous times, Narcissa. And of course I’m surprised to see you, of all people. When was the last time you visited one of us?”  he asked, raising a challenging eyebrow. 

“Neutral? I’m not sure I believe neutrality exists. Everyone has a side.” Was Narcissa really going to pretend he had no reason for a vendetta? For all Fabian knew, she was a Death Eater, too, even if it didn’t exactly seem her style. He had no idea whether Bellatrix would push for that, or try to protect her, in the way she seemed less harsh only for her family. Or at least, so he’d thought, until the way she’d refused to see the truth about Regulus’ killer made Fabian doubt that very much. Reminded, however, his features changed to something softer, “I’m sorry, though, for your loss. Regulus. Aunt Lucretia was devastated.” 

Still feeling suspicious, Fabian had to admit Narcissa had a point. He couldn’t imagine for what nefarious reason she would have come here. “Does your husband know you’re here?” he asked, curious. He couldn’t especially imagine Lucius Malfoy sending his wife here either. Either way, he supposed he couldn’t just leave her out here. “Molly isn’t home yet. But fine. Come in.” It wasn’t with a very welcoming attitude, but he moved the door aside at last, and grudging gestured for her to enter. Fabian had no intention of letting her leave his sight for a second, and took one last search of the outside area, just in case. 

Mirroring his challenging brow, she asked, “When was the last time you invited me?” Of course, the same could be said about Cissa, as anyone who was neither a respected pureblood nor a Death Eater had never stepped foot in Malfoy Manor. Whether a previous invitation from a Prewett would have been accepted or ignored by the woman was a mystery, even to herself. On one hand, she truthfully didn’t hold such a strong vengeance against the family for the choices they made. On the other hand, it had been years since she had seen the twins, and nearly two decades since she had been cordial with them. “We don’t have to go back and forth. We’ve both missed a birthday or two. I forgive you,” she granted. “...Fabian.” There was a strong likelihood that she was wrong, but she was fairly confident in the guess. Fabian was black and white. Gideon was a bit more colorful. “Where’s your brother?”

The woman’s lips parted slightly, an automatic reply threatening the tip of her tongue — Thank you. It was a tragedy. We miss him terrible. She stopped herself before the robotic formalities could escape, however, and instead narrowed her eyes at the man. “Aunt Lucretia was devastated? Everyone is devastated.” Then, quieter, “You don’t have to say you’re sorry if you’re not, really. You didn’t even know him, so...” She shrugged.

“No. My husband works during the day.” There was a condescending tone to her words that she didn’t even notice, a result of the flash of defensiveness that accompanied the mention of Regulus. “I left a note with the elves,” she quickly added. “I’m not an idiot. I wouldn’t go somewhere without telling someone.” Lies, but she trusted Molly. Molly wasn’t there, however, and she glanced uncertainly at Fabian as she stepped inside. “Why are you asking about my husband?” She took off her scarf. “Will Molly be back soon?”

WHO: @nmalfoy​ WHERE: the bedchamber, Malfoy Manor WHEN: early morning, February 17th, 1980

It was beginning to feel like Lucius couldn’t catch a break. He had wasted a week of actual work to accommodate the Minister’s ridiculous plea for a flashy PR stunt, putting together a ludicrous holiday event for the sake of easing public opinion of the man before the word got out about Hogwarts the following day. Valentine’s Day had fallen on the previous Thursday, Lucius having forgotten about it given his duties to the event didn’t come until Saturday, and he’d gotten home very late after the festivities had wrapped up. He hadn’t even put together that the affair was meant to be spent with one’s spouse; still, he’d crawled into bed without a second thought, to spiral into dreamless sleep as he did every other night.

He did not expect to be woken to a splash of cold water over his face, jolted from sleep with a gasp, whatever yell that had escaped his lips half buried by the second drenching to come his way. Lucius spluttered around the sensations, hands furiously wiping at his eyes, the targeted attack causing his silk pajamas to cling uncomfortably to his body.

“Merlin’s beard -” he found the ability to shout, bewilderment evident on his features as his gaze finally found the culprit of his unceremonious awakening - his wife, beautiful as ever, wand raised and looking absolutely furious with him. Uh-oh.

“Narcissa, wait, hold your hippogriffs!” Excuses were already pillaging the man’s mind as he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, unsure what exactly had brought this on but aware he had enough misdeeds to possibly deserve it. Possibly. Wide eyes waited for another dousing, but when she held off, still fuming at the foot of their bed, Lucius was left with only one question. “Darling, what in Salazar’s name has gotten into you?!”

“Don’t call me darling, you — you — ugh!” Quickly, she looked around for a new weapon of choice. She picked up a stray throw pillow and threw it at his head with as much might as she could. “My name is Narcissa, in case you’ve forgotten that, too. Just like you forgot my birthday and Valentines Day and the fact that we’ve had reservations at the Riverside the past three nights that I had to move twice because my husband’s been out Merlin knows where doing Merlin knows what!” She had little interest in hearing where he was or what he was doing or even who he was with. The fact that he wasn’t at the Riverside with her celebrating a lovers’ holiday was all she cared about. If it was his intention to hurt her, then he had succeeded; but Narcissa had a hunch that even thinking he cared enough to ditch her intentionally was giving her husband too much credit.

It wasn’t often that the couple indulged in a romantic evening, primarily because there was nothing romantic about their marriage. It had taken weeks for Narcissa to find the motivation she had lost years and years ago to make their relationship tolerable. Vowing to herself that it was the last chance she would give to Lucius, she had planned a nice evening for them on Valentines Day, complete with a letter gifted to him Thursday morning to announce her pregnancy and dinner reservations that evening to celebrate. When he came home late on Thursday, she figured that it was her own fault, as everyone knew that weekdays weren’t good for Ministry workers. When he came home late on Friday, she thought third time’s the charm. When he came home late on Saturday, she was infuriated. 

Where: St. Mungo’s When: 29 February 1980, evening Who: Sirius & Narcissa

Sirius was having a rough time of it.

He hadn’t expected the scouting mission in Hogwarts to go south, for one. After the initial infiltration, it was supposed to be easy going as they swept the castle for anything that would be useful, but nothing was ever that easy. Why would it be easy? This was his life, after all–easy was at the bottom of things that Sirius Black deserved, apparently.

He also hadn’t expected to come across his cousin in Hogwarts, to finally face off with her… and to lose. Sirius was frankly surprise she let him live at all; maybe that part of her plan was a mistake. If Bellatrix had known he would survive the injuries she caused him, she probably would’ve shot one last curse to finish the job before going on her merry way. It almost did do him in, but then James and Amelia found him, and here he was: alive for another day.

Worse for wear, certainly, but alive. 

His entire body ached, and even with all the work done on him, the Healers wanted him to stay for a day or two to be safe. Sirius absolutely did not want to do that, so when a figure came into his view, his first words were, “Wanna break me outta here? Before I lose my damn mind?” 

Narcissa peeked her head around the corner of the open door, as though to check that the room was empty of other visitors before entering. “Sirius?” Her voice was small, concern etched into her delicate features. When she had checked in at the front desk, intending to visit Rabastan and the other pure victims of the poisoning, (how unfortunate it was that her husband hadn’t been one of them), the hospital receptionist had — boldly? inappropriately? — inquired if she was there to see her cousin, who was in critical care. It was too easy to believe that Sirius had managed to find his own trouble that night. He always did, it seemed. Even as children, her pleas for the boy to behave were futile. “It looks like some things never change.” 

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“Sirius,” Narcissa answered. She didn’t need a truth serum anymore to admit that she missed her cousin. “I would ask him to come home again. I know he was miserable with his family, but if he came back, then maybe I wouldn’t be so miserable anymore. Being unhappy and lonely is so much more miserable than just being unhappy. Then, you at least have someone to talk to about it, someone who understands how you feel…” With a small, sad smile, she mused, “Maybe that’s just a lost cause though, huh? I can’t fix everyone. Some people only care about themselves.”

@seirioscanis

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“I’m going to write him a letter and give it to him on Valentine’s Day.” She wanted that to be the end of the answer, but a moment later, she was babbling. “It’s not ideal, and it’s not… You know, other people announce their pregnancies at, like, a party or with some clever gift; but I’m not so clever, and I don’t think Lucius is going to be jumping up and down with glee when he finds out. I’m hoping that he’ll be away from the manor when he reads the letter, and he’ll have some time to accept it before we have to talk about it. Even if I wanted to tell him face-to-face, I don’t think I could. The way he looks down at me makes me nervous, and then I start to stutter, and he gets impatient and —“ She sighed. “There’s a reason we try to talk as little as possible.” 

@slytherdaddy

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“Don’t ever think that I chose Lucius as my husband,” Narcissa said. “The only thing I chose was to stay silent while our parents made the arrangements, and that’s something I regret every day. If I had a choice, I would have chosen someone I could have actually been happy with, like Alexander, or someone I could at least be myself around, like Rabastan. I would have never willingly married my sisters’ rejected sloppy seconds. There was a reason neither of them wanted to marry him.” 

@slytherdaddy / @strangerthanfiction

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“An opportunity.” The truth fell from her lips more confidently than it ever had before. The answer didn’t surprise her, as it unfortunately was a question she had asked herself before, but hearing the words aloud created a heavy feeling of guilt in her chest. Narcissa hurried to defend herself. “Bella and I have never been that close. When we were kids, she was always better at everything than me. People liked her better, and if they didn’t like her then they loved Andromeda, and if Bella and Andy didn’t want them, then they finally settled with me. It’s not like Bella wouldn’t turn against me, if I gave her a reason to. I saw how quickly she turned against Andromeda and Sirius,” she said. “Besides… She’s different now. It’s scary. The more distance I can put between her and my baby, the better.”

@commanderlestrange

Lucius doesn’t intend to bristle at her, a passing demure comment in response to a compliment practically a reflex for Narcissa - he blamed Druella, for raising the last of the Black girls to be an apologist while the rest… His hands settled on her shoulders as they both gazed at the jewels glinting in her reflection. “We’re Malfoys, Narcissa, every birthday should be momentous,” he offered, a reflex response, almost hearing Abraxas’ voice between each word as he deft fingers tucked a lock of hair behind her ear before continuing, “I’m glad you love it - it suits you very nicely. Brings out the color of your eyes.” He knew it would, of course, a pre-packaged compliment at the ready back when he had bought it in the first place. 

He finally stepped away from her, a prickling under his skin indicating they had been too close for too long, discomfort seeping into the disjointed cracks of their interaction. Lucius was ready to take his leave, to stop meddling in a situation he couldn’t weasel his way into, the cogs already turning for another avenue of intrusion when Narcissa posed her question. She doesn’t wait for his permission - or maybe she took the tight lipped half grin, the singular blink as enough of a response - and there’s a reluctance about her that Lucius can’t quite place, the slightest cock to his head signifying so. He’s only half-listening, gaze sweeping over her form as he processed her words, a pinprick of confusion beginning to irritate the back of his mind. He was missing something… under the careful microscope of his all-encompassing calculation, Lucius may have been able to tease it out of her, but instead, she tugged him out of his reverie, pondering cast aside for the moment to address her concerns. 

“If you’re rooted in wearing pastels, you may want to try that pink number you received at the beginning of the season - I think you look beautiful in warm tones. If you’re not, maybe try something darker, it may be a bit more slimming,” Lucius barely thought of his response, too focused on attempting another smile, but he could see his reflection over her head - it was toothy and punctured, making him look more wolfish than doting, so he dropped the expression all together. There was a hesitance in the moment, an indiscernible move forward just to stop himself, before ultimately deciding it was appropriate to kiss his wife. His hand reached forward and touched her hip, ducking down to press a kiss to her lips, and both lacked any genuine feeling other than obligation. 

“Work… yes, darling, I should probably get going, the Minister’s head may roll off his shoulders if I don’t inform him the people enjoy it attached to his neck,” Lucius replied, the sigh sitting in his chest unused but still, his words sounded heavy when they were supposed to be pleasant, light, joking with his spouse. How long had it been since they were alone in a room together? Lucius didn’t know, and to be honest, he wished for it to end immediately. Her dressing room had grown stuffy at his prolonged presence - he wondered if she felt the same, before realizing there was no way she didn’t, having noticed her fondness for him dwindling over the course of nearly a decade. He hadn’t cared enough to do anything about it. “Have a nice day, and good luck - I’m sure you and Crouch will need it.” 

With that, he’s already sweeping out of the room once again, mind already slated back into its usual practicalities and away from his duties as a husband, as easy as exchanging one mask for another. He doesn’t even think to tell her he won’t be home for dinner, an idea having formulated in the back of his mind of another direction he could take his meddling - towards Dolohov, who would have more answers than his vapidly insecure wife, or possibly towards Hogsmeade itself, to continue his meddling in Hogwarts’ backyard. His interaction with his wife was already mostly forgotten, aside from a passing note that he needed to ask the house elves to restructure her portions - she was beginning to look a bit pudgy in the winter season. 

Narcissa’s heart dropped at the word slimming. The comment fell from his lips so easily she wondered how long he had been thinking it, and how he could use it in the same sentence as beautiful so confidently. It was such remarks that made her realize that he did see her; every warning sign of her unhappiness an imperfection and every dropped hint of her pregnancy an exposed fault. “Oh,” she murmured. Her gaze fell to her feet, her stomach looking overwhelmingly larger and larger from such a view. 

She looked up again when he touched her hip — don’t touch me! — preparing herself for a more detailed insult when he pressed his lips to hers. She didn’t return the kiss. Holding her breath, her lips were flat against his as she waited eagerly for the awkward embrace to end — stop touching me! It felt like hours before she could breath again, the tension dropping from her shoulders when her husband finally restored the space between them. 

Is that supposed to be a joke? There was an obligation to smile or laugh or show any hint of amusement at his remark about the Minister. She ignored it, however, just as he had seemingly chosen to ignore any obligation to be kind to his wife that morning. Cissa watched him with a blank expression, her jaw clenched. Get out. Get out! She would wear light blue because she wanted to, and she considered even getting rid of every dark colored piece of clothing in her wardrobe. “Thank you,” she said curtly. She and Crouch didn’t need luck because they would do wonderfully, even if only to make Lucius mad. “You too.” When the door closed behind him, she fumbled to take the gifted necklace off as quickly as possible. The heavy gems felt as though they were weighing her down, the chain as though it were choking her. “You —” Once off, she threw the necklace angrily at the door. “ — clueless —” Looking around for something else to throw, the jewelry was followed by an empty wooden hanger. “ — prick!”

She fell on to a cushioned bench heavily, dropping her face into her hands as tears of anger and frustration escaped. She was angry that she had to spend the rest of her life plagued by unhappiness and loneliness, and even more so that she had to raise a child in such a life; and frustrated that her own husband noticed neither of her dilemmas. Above all, however, she was absolutely infuriated that she exchanged her light blue dress for a dark one, and covered it with a black overcoat.