Lucius and Narcissa

Chapter Two

By Libertine


Lucius paid for his wickedness three days later. He entered the Slytherin common room one evening smelling of urine, with his face and shoulders soaked, his blonde hair dripping.

"What the fuck are you all looking at?" he swore.

The Slytherins turned back to what they'd been doing as a single wizard/witch, but their conversation continued in hushed whispers. Lucius, his hands on his hips, glared at any who cast inquisitive looks in his direction.

"Any one who says a bloody word about this," he snarled, "is going to find their reproductive organs attached to the wall."

With that, he stamped off up the stairs into the boy's dormitory, and slammed the door behind him.

"I told you he'd be trouble," Serverus said to Narcissa. "He's far too powerful. He must have been learning wizardcraft at home before he arrived here. It's gone to his head."  He frowned – in that way Narcissa had heard Persephone say was ‘just so gorgeous’. "You'd better go talk to him, Narcissa."

"Me?  Why me?"  Narcissa wasn't terribly fond of the idea of entering the boy's dormitory, let alone try and reason with one very annoyed young wizard.

"You're his friend, aren't you?" Serverus asked. He looked shifty for a moment. "And personally," he added, "I don't dare to, myself."

"Oh, great," Narcissa muttered.


Lucius was drying his hair with a towel when she arrived, immodestly naked. He looked up as she entered, but didn't make any move to cover himself. Narcissa blushed, and ducked down behind the door.

"Sorry – I'll come back later."

"Don't apologise. I've got it out of my system now. You can come in."

"I don't mean that. I mean, well –"

"Oh. I see."  There was a pause, and she heard him rustling the sheets. "You can come in now."

He'd pulled his blankets around his waist, but even the sight of his thin upper body was enough to make Narcissa flush harder. She stepped inside, and closed the door behind her, leaning against it.

"You'd better get used to seeing me naked," Lucius commented. "I think we'll probably start dating in a few years – when I'm ready for the commitment of a relationship – and it's better we're familiar with each other now."

"What?"  Narcissa blinked.

"You're beautiful and intelligent," said Lucius, smirking. "You'd make a perfect girlfriend for me. The age difference is a bit of a worry, though. It'd be a lot easier if you were younger. And shorter, too. But I'm sure I'll grow – my father's six foot three, and my mother's only an inch smaller. I think we'll look very good together, don't you?  Unless you fancy Serverus, which of course you don't. Do you?"

"Well – not really," Narcissa admitted. "I mean, he's a friend, and well –"

"Or those pimply faced little Marauders. As if you'd ever be seen dead with a Gryffindor. And Pettigrew is a fat ugly creature. Did you want to plait my hair?  Come sit here; there's a comb on the chest of drawers."

Narcissa never failed to be amazed at the way Lucius talked – sometimes she felt he could hold a conversation with someone without having to let them speak at all. In another boy, this affectation would have seemed obnoxious, but in Lucius – well, to be honest, Narcissa agreed with everything he said. She took the silver comb and knelt on the bed behind him. His hair was longer than hers, she noticed, and finer, too, but the colour was identical – a shiney silver-blonde.

"Tell me if it hurts," she said.

"Don't worry. I'll scream."

At home in the country, Narcissa had often been left to brush her younger sisters' hair. Running the comb through Lucius' damp locks, Narcissa felt somehow comforted. Once the few knots were untangled, she began to braid it, entwining the lengths over and under. Lucius passed her a ribbon, without a word, and she looped it through his hair, securing it in a series of ties.

"No bow," said Lucius.

"No bow," said Narcissa, straightening.

Lucius swivelled round to face her, the blankets bunching about his waist. He still had that elfin look about him, Narcissa saw – that thin, haughty self-possession.

"You have to stop caring about what other people think," he said. "You have to start doing things, and think to hell with the consequences. Sometimes you can't change a person unless you force them. They'll continue to tease you until you stand up to them. And if they don't become your friends after that – who cares?  You'll always have me."

Narcissa looked away, playing with the edging of the blanket. "I just – I'm not like you," she said. "I get scared of that kind of thing. I didn't come here to make friends, anyway. I came here to get a good education."

"You can read books to get your education, Narcissa."  The way he said her name made Narcissa shiver. "School isn't about learning magic. It's about learning how to use people. If they don't fear you now, they certainly won't later."

"I don't want people to be afraid of –"

"But you want them to respect you. Fear is the basis of respect. You're smarter and more beautiful than any of them. They're already scared, which is why they try so hard to belittle you infront of their peers. You should give them a reason to really make them afraid. You have power. You need to learn how to use it."

"But I –"

"Don't tell me that you don't like being wicked. Don't tell me you don't wish you could order them about. I can see straight into your head, some days; I can read your thoughts. I know what you want."

Narcissa stared at her hands. "What do I want?" she mumbled.

"You want to kiss me."


She looked up. His eyes were flinty in the bright light.

"I said, kiss me, Narcissa."

"I –"

Narcissa felt out of her depths, out of her mind. She was thankful, then, when he relinquished all control from her; he took her head in his thin hands and guided her lips to his.

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