Narcissa Black-Malfoy
Title: Far Away
Character(s): Narcissa Malfoy
Prompt: to the last syllable of recorded time
Rating: I have no idea. PG-ish?
Word Count: 782
Summary: Near the end, Narcissa reflects upon herself.
Author's Notes: Fic 2/7. Prompt table. This could do with a lot more editing, but I wanted to post it before I chickened out and rewrote it. Any comments or suggestions for improvement are, of course, welcome.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
How could over forty years of a life of luxury and comfort turn into this colorless, deadening existence?
The legacy of her family had dissipated into these walls. Her sister, tortured by her years of incarceration, was released to the world a crazed and radical outlaw. Her husband was executed here-a symbol of hope to the rest of the wizarding world that the war was coming to an end. And her son… he had begged for the mercy of Azkaban.
And now her. In the hopes of saving her son’s life she had laid her soul on a burning pyre, sacrificing everything else. She had committed atrocities in the name of the Dark Lord (and oh, He was dark-more so than she had ever realized before) that were too horrific for her to recount. For her son’s life, she had flung herself at the Dark Lord’s feet and offered him every last ounce of her being… all in vain. Her son’s single offense was too great, and she lost him to the same curse that he had failed to perform.
Narcissa closed her eyes and felt a sharp pain in her chest.
The years blurred in her mind. Lost in her own head, she forgot to think, forgot to feel. She imagined her mother, young and beautiful, humming to herself as she planted seeds and bulbs in her garden. Narcissa was a child again, and more than anything she wanted to throw herself into her mother’s arms and disappear from this empty sham of a life.
“Narcissa, darling, what are you doing here?” she recalled, the memory flickering in her mind. “You’re supposed to be at lessons with your sisters.” Narcissa felt her mother’s cool lips on her forehead.
Her eyelids flew open at a distant sound. Narcissa returned to her corporeal body. She realized that that sweet memory was made-up-her mother had never gardened and Narcissa had never skipped her lessons. Yet somehow, Narcissa had remembered it.
The door to her cell opened and a heavyset guard grunted. She knew what was to come and stood, emotionless and detached. She longed to return to her unreal memories, if only for the next few moments. But as she walked down the corridor, past a dozen desolate cells, she felt grounded to reality-trapped in it.
She was faced with painful reflections that she had been struggling with over the last few weeks. She did not have much time left. She was led to a room and left there, alone. She sat.
With her entire life lost and shattered, the past a fading memory and the present a cruel joke-who was she?
My name is Narcissa Malfoy.
My name is Narcissa Black.
My name is Narcissa.
Without a mirror or her wealth or her family to justify her, what was her purpose?
My name is Narcissa. I am a pureblood witch. My bloodline is one of the most ancient and prestigious in the world.
I was once certain that I could rule the universe.
I was once more beautiful than the women that haunt your dreams.
I was once-
With only minutes left of her conscious life, who and what was she? With barely any people left alive to remember her, for whom could she think her last thoughts?
I am Narcissa.
I have loved, hated, killed, birthed, bled, dreamed. I have slept late into the afternoon and have gone weeks without a wink of it. I have worn the most expensive silk in the world and I have worn piss-stained rags. I have been peaceful and safe and I have been doomed and hunted.
Who knew that elegance could be scratched away so easily?
Narcissa’s mind suddenly went blank and her body went cold. It was time.
“Stand,” commanded a stern-voiced official.
She stood.
“Narcissa Malfoy, maiden name Black. On this day of the twenty third of November, in the year 2003, you have been sentenced to receive the Dementor’s Kiss for the following crimes-”
Narcissa stared at the great, hooded creature before her. She tried remembering back to her mother in the garden. She didn’t care if it was real or not-at that moment, she would give anything for that bright memory.
The man finished. “Do you have any last requests?”
She shook her head. She had imagined herself in this position, asking for many things-chocolate cake or a toothbrush or new shoes or death, but she didn’t care now. She shook her head again.
The Dementor pushed its hood back.
My name is…
I am…
She could not remember her name.
The Dementor descended.
Character(s): Narcissa Malfoy
Prompt: to the last syllable of recorded time
Rating: I have no idea. PG-ish?
Word Count: 782
Summary: Near the end, Narcissa reflects upon herself.
Author's Notes: Fic 2/7. Prompt table. This could do with a lot more editing, but I wanted to post it before I chickened out and rewrote it. Any comments or suggestions for improvement are, of course, welcome.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
How could over forty years of a life of luxury and comfort turn into this colorless, deadening existence?
The legacy of her family had dissipated into these walls. Her sister, tortured by her years of incarceration, was released to the world a crazed and radical outlaw. Her husband was executed here-a symbol of hope to the rest of the wizarding world that the war was coming to an end. And her son… he had begged for the mercy of Azkaban.
And now her. In the hopes of saving her son’s life she had laid her soul on a burning pyre, sacrificing everything else. She had committed atrocities in the name of the Dark Lord (and oh, He was dark-more so than she had ever realized before) that were too horrific for her to recount. For her son’s life, she had flung herself at the Dark Lord’s feet and offered him every last ounce of her being… all in vain. Her son’s single offense was too great, and she lost him to the same curse that he had failed to perform.
Narcissa closed her eyes and felt a sharp pain in her chest.
The years blurred in her mind. Lost in her own head, she forgot to think, forgot to feel. She imagined her mother, young and beautiful, humming to herself as she planted seeds and bulbs in her garden. Narcissa was a child again, and more than anything she wanted to throw herself into her mother’s arms and disappear from this empty sham of a life.
“Narcissa, darling, what are you doing here?” she recalled, the memory flickering in her mind. “You’re supposed to be at lessons with your sisters.” Narcissa felt her mother’s cool lips on her forehead.
Her eyelids flew open at a distant sound. Narcissa returned to her corporeal body. She realized that that sweet memory was made-up-her mother had never gardened and Narcissa had never skipped her lessons. Yet somehow, Narcissa had remembered it.
The door to her cell opened and a heavyset guard grunted. She knew what was to come and stood, emotionless and detached. She longed to return to her unreal memories, if only for the next few moments. But as she walked down the corridor, past a dozen desolate cells, she felt grounded to reality-trapped in it.
She was faced with painful reflections that she had been struggling with over the last few weeks. She did not have much time left. She was led to a room and left there, alone. She sat.
With her entire life lost and shattered, the past a fading memory and the present a cruel joke-who was she?
My name is Narcissa Malfoy.
My name is Narcissa Black.
My name is Narcissa.
Without a mirror or her wealth or her family to justify her, what was her purpose?
My name is Narcissa. I am a pureblood witch. My bloodline is one of the most ancient and prestigious in the world.
I was once certain that I could rule the universe.
I was once more beautiful than the women that haunt your dreams.
I was once-
With only minutes left of her conscious life, who and what was she? With barely any people left alive to remember her, for whom could she think her last thoughts?
I am Narcissa.
I have loved, hated, killed, birthed, bled, dreamed. I have slept late into the afternoon and have gone weeks without a wink of it. I have worn the most expensive silk in the world and I have worn piss-stained rags. I have been peaceful and safe and I have been doomed and hunted.
Who knew that elegance could be scratched away so easily?
Narcissa’s mind suddenly went blank and her body went cold. It was time.
“Stand,” commanded a stern-voiced official.
She stood.
“Narcissa Malfoy, maiden name Black. On this day of the twenty third of November, in the year 2003, you have been sentenced to receive the Dementor’s Kiss for the following crimes-”
Narcissa stared at the great, hooded creature before her. She tried remembering back to her mother in the garden. She didn’t care if it was real or not-at that moment, she would give anything for that bright memory.
The man finished. “Do you have any last requests?”
She shook her head. She had imagined herself in this position, asking for many things-chocolate cake or a toothbrush or new shoes or death, but she didn’t care now. She shook her head again.
The Dementor pushed its hood back.
My name is…
I am…
She could not remember her name.
The Dementor descended.