Lucius and Narcissa

Chapter Three

By Libertine

       

"Did you hear what Malfoy did?"

"Of course I did. Everyone's talking about it. I can't believe it."

"I heard Professor Farneshaw was too shocked to even take away house points from them. She dismissed the class early."

"I don't blame her. I think the whole class is walking around shell-shocked."

A group of Gryffindors were talking in loud voices in the corridor. Hearing Lucius' name, Narcissa approached them.

"What's this about Malfoy?" she asked.

One girl, an annoying brunette Narcissa vaguely knew as Lily, turned, smirking. "Oh, look who's decided to join us. It's the ice princess –"

"Shut up, you fat bitch," Narcissa snapped, "and just tell me what the fuck is going on."

Lily looked almost as shocked as Narcissa felt. It was the first time Narcissa had ever used a swear-word; she wondered if her tongue might drop off from the sheer dirtiness of the word. But Lily's expression toughened Narcissa's resolve. It was almost invigorating, to see the Gryffindor so utterly bewildered.

"Come on," said Narcissa, curtly. "I'm waiting."

"Well –" Lily began, nervously, "Malfoy was in Transfiguration class, so the rumour goes, and one of his Slytherin friends, Hawthorne, was getting yelled at by Professor Farneshaw for dropping his frog.."

Narcissa knew Ned Hawthorne – a round faced first year, who'd recently started to hang around with Lucius. There were a lot of Lucius-groupies, all of a sudden; Narcissa didn't know where they were coming from. At the start of the year, people had given Lucius a wide berth – now they were flocking to him in droves, eager to listen to him.

"And? What happened?" she prompted the girl.

"This is the funny part. Just when Professor Farneshaw was just getting into the middle of one of her rants, and Hawthorne was about to burst into tears, Malfoy left his desk and walked straight up to Hawthorne, and – well."  Lily giggled. "He kissed him. Right on the lips. Right infront of the whole class."

Narcissa felt her stomach lurch. "He what?"

"Like I said, he kissed him. Why? Do you fancy a first year, Cissy?"  Lily smirked.

"No," Narcissa hissed. "Didn't you realise, Lily? All this time, I've only ever wanted you."

As Lily gasped, Narcissa turned on her heel and stormed off, towards her next class. The Potions teacher, Professor Hagaway, was late, and Narcissa stalked in, slamming down her books on the bench. The sudden noise caused Serverus – who'd been busy flipping through the notes from the previous day – to jump.

"What on earth's the matter?" he asked, and then added, "Did you hear about what Lucius did in Transfiguration?"

"Me and the rest of the school. And no, Sev, I don't need to hear it again."

She glowered into her potions handbook, and Serverus wisely chose to withold his counsel until the end of the lesson. Narcissa was so angry that she could barely slice her roots; Serverus ended up doing most of the work.

"What's all this about?" he dared to ask her, as they left. "Is everything alright at home? It can't be about what Lucius did, can it?"

"Of course it's about Lucius," Narcissa growled. "I can't believe he'd do that to me. I mean, I thought –"

Serverus winced.

"What?"

He sighed and shrugged, a small, disenheartened rise of his shallow shoulders. "Nothing, Narcissa," he muttered.

       

Ned Hawthorne was sitting in the common room, pretending to be very interested in a comic book. His ears were bright red, though – he was well aware that the entire room, and probably the entire school, were discussing the Transfiguration incident. Narcissa, who'd been the brunt of such stares and ill advised rumor mongering before, had no sympathy for him.

Grabbing him by the shoulder – he let out only a weak whimper in protest – Narcissa manouvered the boy out of the room and down the stairs. Flinging open the door to an empty class room, she shoved him inside, and followed.

"C-cissy?" Ned stuttered. He was squeezing the comic book so hard the cover had begun to tear. "Wh-what did I d-do, now?"

Narcissa crossed her arms over her chest. Part of her enjoyed watching the boy stumble over his words, the unbridled fear written into his plump features. Part of her was simply disgusted – she couldn't believe Lucius would ever stoop so low as to touch someone like Ned. Didn't Ned have a Muggle ancestor, anyway? The Hawthornes might have been a proud wizarding family, but Narcissa was sure Lucius had mentioned that Ned's great grandfather was a mud-blood.

"C-cissy?" Ned tried again.

"Explain to me, in ten words or less, exactly what your relationship to Lucius Malfoy is," Narcissa growled.

"We're friends," Ned mumbled. "I th-think."

"People don't kiss their friends, Ned."

"I know. B-but Lucius said he – he c-couldn't bear to let Pr-pr-pr –"

"Professor," Narcissa supplied.

"– Farneshaw p-pick on me anym-more. S-so that's why he felt he, um, h-had to k-kiss me. T-to make Farneshaw st-stop."

"So you and Lucius aren't –" Narcissa made a gesture.

"N-no!" the boy spluttered. "No, n-never. I'm n-not that sort of –"

"You can go," said Narcissa, kicking the door open. "Out. Now."

The boy skittered away as fast as he could. When the sound of his running footsteps were no longer audible, Narcissa slumped into a chair, and rested her head on a desk. Her pulse was beating wildly in her temples. Why am I so worked up about this? she wondered. Is it because I'm scared of losing Lucius? But I never really had him, anyway. We were just – we –are- just friends, until he's old enough.. or something..

She groaned. Lucius always liked mind-games: he got some perverse pleasure out of seeing people get worked up and lose control. Perhaps he'd kissed Ned to see how she'd react.

Or perhaps, Narcissa thought grimly, the world doesn't revolve around you, Narcissa d'Antoine. No matter what Lucius may want you to believe.

       

"What are you doing?"

Lucius didn't look up. He was crouched beneath a tree, staring out into the depths of the forest. "Looking for unicorns."

"I'm sure," Narcissa smirked. "I want to talk to you, Lucius."

"So talk."

He seemed incredibly non-commital, and Narcissa faltered for a moment. Finally she said, "Do you love me, Lucius."

"Don't ask me that," he replied.

"But I am," Narcissa repeated, stubbornly, even as she felt her heart ache. "I'm asking you. Do you love me?"

Lucius pressed his hands against his forehead, and sighed. "I'm eleven – you're thirteen," he said, quietly. "We've known each other for how long? Six months? Seven? We're too young to talk about that sort of thing. I said, maybe in a few years, when we're old enough to –"

"You kissed Ned Hawthorne!" Narcissa shrieked.

"Yes. I did. I couldn't stand that Gryffindor bitch screaming any longer. I had to do something, something that she couldn't respond to. I wanted to make her scared of me. Maybe make everyone scared of me. I can do things, see – I know what makes people afraid. It's confrontation. They don't know how to act, they don't know where to look."

His voice was strangely quiet; almost as if he was ashamed of himself. He leant back on the grass on his elbows, and tilted his head toward the sky.

"You still haven't answered me," said Narcissa.

"Ask me again in three years," said Lucius. "I don't like the idea of – of whatever it is. See –" he was struggling now, to find the right words, "it's like this."  He rolled over onto his stomach, and cupped his chin in his hands. "I think you're perfect. I don't know how I came to meet you, and I don't know why you're here with me now. I've never met anyone like you before; I've never even dreamt of anyone like you. You ask me about love – I'm asking you, what is there not to love about you, Narcissa?"

Narcissa's knees went out from under her, and she collapsed onto the grass before him. Lucius crawled forwards, and laid his head on her lap. The shimmering thread of his plait trailed along the ground beside her – she took it in her hands.

"I'm obsessive about you," he whispered. "I was the first second I saw you – if you can believe that. I sort of knew – it was an instinctive thing. You looked so much like me, you moved like me, and after I spoke to you a few times I realised that deep down, you thought like me too. We're old, you and I – older than we look. Older and more powerful. People like us – we could rule the world."

She wrapped his plait around her hand, like the bridle of a horse, securing it in the centre of her palm.

"But at the same time I keep thinking we're too young, that we shouldn't rush this. Maybe I'm only imagining all of it, anyway. But – perhaps. Do you think we should go out together? And I don't mean it in the sickly sweet way that that Patil girl talks about ‘dating’. I mean – do you want to be with me. Do you want that commitment?"

She held his head in her hands, and ran her thumb against his cheek.

"Yes."

There was a silence betweeen them – though not an uncomfortable one.

"I wasn't sure you'd say that," Lucius murmured, presently.

"Me either," Narcissa admitted.

He yawned, cattishly, and curled up against her. "By the way, Narcissa," he drawled. "Just because I love you, it doesn't mean that you're the only person I'll ever sleep with."

Narcissa pulled his hair, hard.

Lucius screamed.

Return to Archive | next | previous