“What a lovely flower, dearest,” Madame Black said as she looked at her youngest daughter and the flower she held in her hand.
Narcissa, whose thoughts had been miles away, got up slowly and smiled slightly. “Thank you.” She looked at her mother’s companion and saw that Alexius still had not departed.
“Is Mr. Malfoy gone?” her mother wheedled as she looked about the empty garden.
Narcissa only nodded her head in agreement. Her eyes locked briefly with Alexius’ and she saw a questioning look upon his features. She glanced away again. In her quiet room she had pressed imploringly against Lucius, her lips upturned toward his, begging him to make her forget. Part of her despised him for it. Why couldn’t she ever just move on from the past? Why were the images of her sister in Lucius’ embrace, that dark look in his eyes, always what she saw before she awoke every morning?
“Darling,” her mother asked, “are you listening?”
“Hmm?” Narcissa dropped the flower she had been holding.
“I asked, dear, if you and Mr. Malfoy had come to some sort of arrangement about the wedding.”
She and Mr. Malfoy had done no such thing. He had lifted her until her legs wrapped around his waist and had slammed her into several pieces of furniture, he had pulled at her hair to try to discover the best angle from which to kiss her, he had even gone so far as to start removing articles of his own clothing before she had stopped him, saying that she was not like her sister. They had not discussed Bella’s wedding to the idiot Lestrange, and they had certainly not discussed their own, except when Narcissa referenced it in regards to any future clothing removal. It was safer that way, Narcissa had reasoned to herself as she had stared at her fiancé’s smooth chest. She didn’t want to have to hex him before he finally placed her engagement ring on her finger himself.
Her mother, naturally, knew none of this. “Yes,” she replied simply. “Could I invite June over for dinner tonight?” She looked at both her mother and Alexius simultaneously.
“Of – of course,” Alexius stammered and Narcissa couldn’t help but smile at him.
“Would you excuse us, Lord Everingham?” Madame Black pulled her daughter aside. “Narcissa, it’s another small dinner with the wedding party. It’s less than a week until the actual day. There’s still the ball in two nights’ time and –”
“She can just come early then,” Narcissa stated, knowing that her best fried was coming the next day anyway.
“Mother,” Narcissa whined, “I can’t bear to be alone with Bellatrix in the house.”
“You won’t be alone with her, darling,” her mother cooed. “She and Rodolphus are going out to dinner with your father and I. Last night, after you left, Lucius so kindly agreed to keep you company.”
“I thought you said that it was a dinner with the entire wedding party?”
“Well, two dinners, really, dear. Lucius did so want to see you again after last night.”
Narcissa began to laugh. Her blonde hair shivered in the sunlight as she supported herself up against a tree. “He couldn’t possibly have,” she stammered as she tried to control herself. Alexius was now looking over at her but she avoided his gaze.
“See for yourself. He’ll be here around six.” Her eyes began to glint which frightened her daughter. “Perhaps you could convince him to take you out to dinner, as well. He is such the gentleman.” Leading her daughter back over to their guest, she continued, “Why don’t you go shop for something appropriate to wear? It can keep you out of your sister’s way until she leaves. And you can see your friend tomorrow.”
Alexius looked at her imploringly.
“In fact,” Madame Black concluded, “I would leave sooner rather than later. Your sister is in one of her moods this morning.”
Narcissa was stubborn by nature. Although she didn’t resist as her mother pushed her toward the floo and though she refused all kindly offers of Alexius’ company to London, she soon found herself standing in Diagon Alley despite herself. She had never cared for clothing and most of her dresses her friends – notably June – had picked out for her. Today was like every other day: she did not want to go shopping. She did, however, want to give Lucius the shock of his life for presuming to offer to keep her company and then keep it a secret from her. Granted, she had not allowed him much time to speak to her, even in private, over the last twelve hours, but she wished that she had more warning than her mother’s not-quite-misguided attempts at matchmaking.
When she arrived back at the house seven hours later, she had several muggle shopping bags and found that she had come home to a quiet residence. Tonight she wasn’t going to wear wizarding robes. Instead, she was going to dress in the latest crossover fashion: jeans. Once she had purchased the trousers from a pimpled face teenager, she had had to go buy a corresponding tshirt and sweater, to be capped off by a bizarre type of shoe called a “sneaker.” The boy swore she looked “rad” and told her she would look even better with her hair tied up. He threw in a set of scrunchies for free.
At six o’clock she was lounging in the library with a potions book in her hand and her sneakers kicked off into a corner. When she told June about this, she knew she would be laughed at and she would probably have to burn the clothes in case her parents ever found them. After her sister’s “defection,” as so many so indelicately put it, “everything muggle” was forbidden by her parents. But punishment was punishment, she thought darkly. Nothing would humiliate a pureblooded wizard more than being seen with a woman in muggle attire, even if she were of the highest family.
When the house elf finally showed Lucius into the room, Narcissa had gotten bored with her potions book. Without even so much as an introduction, Lucius demanded, “What are you wearing?” His voice was cold and calculated and as Narcissa looked up from her book she could see the cold fire within his eyes.
“That’s the wrong greeting,” Narcissa replied as she looked down again at the volume.
Lucius said nothing. Instead, he stood looking down at her waiting for her to speak. Finally she sighed and looked back up at him. “Well?” she asked.
The floorboards creaked as Lucius shifted his weight almost imperceptibly. The cold light in his eyes burned a little brighter and it frightened Narcissa. “Narcissa, what in Merlin are you wearing?”
She sighed dramatically and closed her book. “Clothes.”
He glared down at her.
“Hello to you, as well.”
He sat down near her and ignored her reply completely. “Take them off.”
She looked blandly back at him. “I thought you were keeping me company and taking me out to dinner.” Her tone was light, flippant almost and she reached lazily for a pen she had dropped earlier. Her blonde hair fell from the loose bun she had put it in, the hair cascading over the bruises he had left on her neck earlier that morning.
“Take the clothes off first,” he demanded, his voice dark as he stood up again. He began to pace across the room, kicking her potions book out of the way as she stared after him. Out of all the responses she had imagined, she did not expect him to get quite this enraged.
Looking sweetly up at him, she continued, “I thought we had this conversation this morning, Lucius, unless you’d forgotten.” She pursed her lips and dove headlong into her monologue. “In fact, that’s the reason for these rather fashionable garments. They’re to protect my virtue. According to the shop boy, I look ‘rad’ in them, whatever that means. It must be Muggle slang of some sort.”
“Narcissa,” he warned as he came close to her again, his eyes almost level with her own as he bent down next to her.
“He really was very helpful in the dressing room when I needed a second opinion –”
Then she saw it in his eyes – the want, the need, everything she felt for him mixed with an anger she could not understand. Before she could push herself from her seat, he had clasped his hands around her waist and whispered “damn you” before his lips crushed against hers. Violently he kissed her again and again, pulling her closer as she felt her hands try to push him away. “Narcissa,” he moaned into her mouth as his large hands tore the offending shirt from her limbs. She shivered as the cold air touched the bare skin of her back, her ruined tee lying in shreds on the floor.
The more Narcissa struggled, the more Lucius held her against him as he pushed every inch of his body closer to hers. She could feel the velvet of his shirt and the silk of his vest against her naked skin as he reached his hands into her jeans and tried to unbutton them from within. “Stop!” she tried to scream, but his mouth had claimed hers too completely. Her nails raked against him, trying to wound him as his fingers entered her harshly, her jeans now fully open. As he gasped for breath, his index finger thrusting into her again and again, she turned away from him and screamed “No, Lucius, No!” as a searing pain ripped apart her center.
She began to sob as he slowly removed his hand from her stained underwear, blood coating his fingers. “Lucius,” she whispered as the scent permeated the air.
His grip on her loosened as he stared down at her face, coating her lips with her own virginity. “You’re mine and mine only,” he whispered as he kissed her again, this time gently and sweetly. Narcissa could taste the metallic redness as she lay completely still beneath him.
Finally she looked up to him and she couldn’t read what she saw there. Then she laughed, hard and cold and fully. Her red lips glistened in the flickering light of the room and the shadowed face of her fiancé became grimmer as she laughed beneath him. “That’s not the correct greeting either,” she giggled, tears welling in her eyes. She felt so broken that all she could do was laugh in Lucius’ face, try to tear him down as low as he had thrown her. “You should say ‘hello’ instead of raping me.”
She rolled out from under him and picked up her torn shirt. Inspecting it, she half-hazardously put her arms through the relatively intact arms of the shirt. “I need a new shirt,” she concluded out loud as he stared at her. “I’ll go find a new one.” Then walking as straight as she could, she exited the room, leaving a shocked and perplexed Lucius behind her.
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