(harry potter) malfoys get married in black
. originally written for hp_canon_fest
narcissa black - narcissa malfoy. narcissa/lucius, implied bellatrix/lucius
pg13. 1,323 words
(a short story of how the uneasy love between Narcissa Black and Lucius Malfoy was born)
I am Narcissa Malfoy.
(I once was Narcissa Black.)
Whenever her husband said, I am Lucius Malfoy, one could easily catch the undertone; do you know who I am? For Narcissa, it was different. It meant assuming an identity and learning to put up with it. The many times when she hid under the duvet, sank her face in the pillow and cut the name within through barred teeth seemed very far away. She was no longer dreaming to be; she was.
-
It didn't really matter how it started - a stolen glance, a negligent brush - it could have been anything. There wasn't too much love between their respective friend circles, to begin with; they didn't spend time together. Narcissa could have been the perpetual prom queen of another era, while Lucius could have played the nerd's part. She was a different sort of prom queen, though, and he, a much distorted kind of nerd. If American bestsellers were to write about them, they'd say oh, y'all bow to the Wicked Anorexic of the West. But does West mean right, for then they would be star-crossed lovers, sharing an ideology: Lucius could have been the archetypical Arian.
"What, him?" Narcissa's friends were in awe when they found out, guilty whispers around corners, Moaning Myrtle spying on them in the girls' restroom. "He's completely besotted with your sister!"
"Andromeda?"
(Of course, it had to be Andromeda, she used to be their inspiration - everybody had loved her)
"No, silly. Bellatrix."
"But… but she's… old!"
Narcissa wasn't shallow, but fire had run through the veins of her family for generations, in spite of their reputation of cold-blooded, rational Slytherins extraordinaires. Not to mention the rivalry between the three Black sisters, a feeling that had animated them since they had learnt to know each other; Narcissa used to look up to her sister. Now, when - if- Lucius Malfoy liked her, she was suddenly a withered shrewd.
-
I was Narcissa Black, once.
Caught in the middle of the whirlwind family drama, Narcissa lent both her shoulders to her sisters, and became their confessor and protector at only seventeen. All thoughts, all dreams, all hopes were shut off and locked away in a tiny heart-shaped box; her graduation festivities didn't quite occur; Cygnus and Druella were too busy shouting, or fainting.
"I'm marrying him, father, no matter what you say -"
And then. "Cursed be this family, can't you understand I don't want to marry him -"
Her sister Andromeda, the bright, lively one, was head over heels in love with a Muggle, of all people. Her sister Bellatrix, the dark, secluded one, refused to marry in the Lestrange family - but they have connections, they could; they couldn't, not for her. Narcissa wondered if she was rather inclined to accept Lucius' presumptive courtship.
-
"Listen."
Narcissa was startled. Usual people normally said "oi".
"I know you, don't I?"
She didn't consider the question necessary; he'd been only two years ahead of her at Hogwarts, of course they knew each other. Certainly, he knew her sister; or both, following the unwanted fame Andromeda had acquired as a consequence of her unfortunate marriage. So she nodded.
"Brilliant! Then you must be Bellatrix' sister."
Touché. Of course she was. She arched an eyebrow - let him take her for a simpleton.
"I need you to do something for me -"he hesitated -"if you please."
"If I must", she finally said. The change in him was obvious; the skin on his high cheekbones flushed ever so slightly. Narcissa knew, that very moment, that he was noticing her for the first time. Lucius Malfoy passed the handwritten note in her hand; she brushed her fingers against his, insisting. He blushed again. "She's getting married, you know", she let it slip. He must have known already.
"Rumor has it", he admitted. His eyes were ethereally gray. Narcissa's were blue; that sort of clear, light blue that shines like glass.
"I'm not."
-
And then, she was. Then she was not. She was, again. At least the mumbo-jumbo wasn't happening only in her head anymore. Bellatrix was a Lestrange; her dark green eyes oozed venom at every formal dinner they had to attend as an extended family. Andromeda wasn't there anymore.
"If marriage ever occurs between us, we shouldn't fear."
Lucius was always so serious. He posed; he wore his hair long, a silver mane tamed by comb and a black ribbon. Narcissa secretly longed to mess it, to play with it, and then, and then. Their talks were still official and somehow empty of content. And they hadn't kissed, yet.
"Your blood is just as pure as mine", he mused. Narcissa nodded, squeezed his hand - her blood, as pure as it might have been, was boiling with desire. "Surely my father would find nothing as an objection."
"Are you really thinking of this?"
Her curiosity was genuine. "Why, of course."
(And?)
And then she understood. Lucius Malfoy might as well have lived in another century; he would have been one of those fortune hunters, who seek to marry heiresses and assure a safe rank for themselves in order to pursue some obscure purpose. His father had enough money, Narcissa knew. It was a name that Lucius lacked, and craved.
She didn't want to be just a name.
"What about thinking of this, instead?"
She leaned over, their faces almost touching. Lucius puffed a short breath through his nose; his fist clenched, breaking the symmetry of his elegant trousers. Narcissa closed her eyes, half-closed them, and glanced through her eyelids as they kissed. He kept his eyes open. He took her in, the tip of her tongue boldly pushing through his lips; his hands suddenly clasped her wrists, holding tightly. Tiny bones cracked. Narcissa didn't feel pain, but pleasure.
-
I used to be Narcissa Black.
Now she was more than a name.
-
The day her father walked her to the aisle was supposed to be the happiest Narcissa had ever experienced. One thing was sure: she was breathtaking, clad in Lucius' mother black wedding gown - it was tradition; Malfoys got married in black - and adorned with a triple pearl necklace. She could feel her father's arm trembling, his fingers clasping her dangerously tight. He was proud of her. She didn't dishonor the family, as Andromeda had done; as Bellatrix was still doing (pending between two brothers was never a clean affair).
"You're here."
Narcissa nodded. Her father let go of her arm. Instead of looking at her, he chose to lock eyes with Lucius; there was a silent agreement between them. The bride couldn't help but shiver - it was the Medieval Ages once again, a possession passed from one pair of male hands to another.
"Indeed", she replied, her voice barely audible.
"Remember when I promised you this?"
The minister was approaching. He looked surprisingly grim; however, it was November. Narcissa shivered again, suddenly cold, her skin covered in nothing but lace. And there was something in Lucius' eyes.
"I do."
They were a fine match, and they knew it. Together, they escaped their usual selves, the faces they presented for public inspection. On her wedding day, Narcissa wore elbow-long black gloves; they were hiding the scars; she fancied her scars. Whenever she remembered they were there, along her thin, pale arms, Lucius' half-cruel, half-merciful smile hit the back of her mind. Then she loved him again, and again, and again.
-
Winds began to change their course unexpectedly. Lucius was changing; she was lagging behind.
-
I am Narcissa Malfoy.
(There was nothing to be proud of)
Her lips a thin, purple line, her frown ever so deep, Narcissa caressed her swollen belly. For months she was trying to figure out how would she bear and rise a child she hadn't wanted, a child who was supposed to inherit a fortune; a propensity for foolish pride; and a name that already meant betrayal.
narcissa black - narcissa malfoy. narcissa/lucius, implied bellatrix/lucius
pg13. 1,323 words
(a short story of how the uneasy love between Narcissa Black and Lucius Malfoy was born)
I am Narcissa Malfoy.
(I once was Narcissa Black.)
Whenever her husband said, I am Lucius Malfoy, one could easily catch the undertone; do you know who I am? For Narcissa, it was different. It meant assuming an identity and learning to put up with it. The many times when she hid under the duvet, sank her face in the pillow and cut the name within through barred teeth seemed very far away. She was no longer dreaming to be; she was.
-
It didn't really matter how it started - a stolen glance, a negligent brush - it could have been anything. There wasn't too much love between their respective friend circles, to begin with; they didn't spend time together. Narcissa could have been the perpetual prom queen of another era, while Lucius could have played the nerd's part. She was a different sort of prom queen, though, and he, a much distorted kind of nerd. If American bestsellers were to write about them, they'd say oh, y'all bow to the Wicked Anorexic of the West. But does West mean right, for then they would be star-crossed lovers, sharing an ideology: Lucius could have been the archetypical Arian.
"What, him?" Narcissa's friends were in awe when they found out, guilty whispers around corners, Moaning Myrtle spying on them in the girls' restroom. "He's completely besotted with your sister!"
"Andromeda?"
(Of course, it had to be Andromeda, she used to be their inspiration - everybody had loved her)
"No, silly. Bellatrix."
"But… but she's… old!"
Narcissa wasn't shallow, but fire had run through the veins of her family for generations, in spite of their reputation of cold-blooded, rational Slytherins extraordinaires. Not to mention the rivalry between the three Black sisters, a feeling that had animated them since they had learnt to know each other; Narcissa used to look up to her sister. Now, when - if- Lucius Malfoy liked her, she was suddenly a withered shrewd.
-
I was Narcissa Black, once.
Caught in the middle of the whirlwind family drama, Narcissa lent both her shoulders to her sisters, and became their confessor and protector at only seventeen. All thoughts, all dreams, all hopes were shut off and locked away in a tiny heart-shaped box; her graduation festivities didn't quite occur; Cygnus and Druella were too busy shouting, or fainting.
"I'm marrying him, father, no matter what you say -"
And then. "Cursed be this family, can't you understand I don't want to marry him -"
Her sister Andromeda, the bright, lively one, was head over heels in love with a Muggle, of all people. Her sister Bellatrix, the dark, secluded one, refused to marry in the Lestrange family - but they have connections, they could; they couldn't, not for her. Narcissa wondered if she was rather inclined to accept Lucius' presumptive courtship.
-
"Listen."
Narcissa was startled. Usual people normally said "oi".
"I know you, don't I?"
She didn't consider the question necessary; he'd been only two years ahead of her at Hogwarts, of course they knew each other. Certainly, he knew her sister; or both, following the unwanted fame Andromeda had acquired as a consequence of her unfortunate marriage. So she nodded.
"Brilliant! Then you must be Bellatrix' sister."
Touché. Of course she was. She arched an eyebrow - let him take her for a simpleton.
"I need you to do something for me -"he hesitated -"if you please."
"If I must", she finally said. The change in him was obvious; the skin on his high cheekbones flushed ever so slightly. Narcissa knew, that very moment, that he was noticing her for the first time. Lucius Malfoy passed the handwritten note in her hand; she brushed her fingers against his, insisting. He blushed again. "She's getting married, you know", she let it slip. He must have known already.
"Rumor has it", he admitted. His eyes were ethereally gray. Narcissa's were blue; that sort of clear, light blue that shines like glass.
"I'm not."
-
And then, she was. Then she was not. She was, again. At least the mumbo-jumbo wasn't happening only in her head anymore. Bellatrix was a Lestrange; her dark green eyes oozed venom at every formal dinner they had to attend as an extended family. Andromeda wasn't there anymore.
"If marriage ever occurs between us, we shouldn't fear."
Lucius was always so serious. He posed; he wore his hair long, a silver mane tamed by comb and a black ribbon. Narcissa secretly longed to mess it, to play with it, and then, and then. Their talks were still official and somehow empty of content. And they hadn't kissed, yet.
"Your blood is just as pure as mine", he mused. Narcissa nodded, squeezed his hand - her blood, as pure as it might have been, was boiling with desire. "Surely my father would find nothing as an objection."
"Are you really thinking of this?"
Her curiosity was genuine. "Why, of course."
(And?)
And then she understood. Lucius Malfoy might as well have lived in another century; he would have been one of those fortune hunters, who seek to marry heiresses and assure a safe rank for themselves in order to pursue some obscure purpose. His father had enough money, Narcissa knew. It was a name that Lucius lacked, and craved.
She didn't want to be just a name.
"What about thinking of this, instead?"
She leaned over, their faces almost touching. Lucius puffed a short breath through his nose; his fist clenched, breaking the symmetry of his elegant trousers. Narcissa closed her eyes, half-closed them, and glanced through her eyelids as they kissed. He kept his eyes open. He took her in, the tip of her tongue boldly pushing through his lips; his hands suddenly clasped her wrists, holding tightly. Tiny bones cracked. Narcissa didn't feel pain, but pleasure.
-
I used to be Narcissa Black.
Now she was more than a name.
-
The day her father walked her to the aisle was supposed to be the happiest Narcissa had ever experienced. One thing was sure: she was breathtaking, clad in Lucius' mother black wedding gown - it was tradition; Malfoys got married in black - and adorned with a triple pearl necklace. She could feel her father's arm trembling, his fingers clasping her dangerously tight. He was proud of her. She didn't dishonor the family, as Andromeda had done; as Bellatrix was still doing (pending between two brothers was never a clean affair).
"You're here."
Narcissa nodded. Her father let go of her arm. Instead of looking at her, he chose to lock eyes with Lucius; there was a silent agreement between them. The bride couldn't help but shiver - it was the Medieval Ages once again, a possession passed from one pair of male hands to another.
"Indeed", she replied, her voice barely audible.
"Remember when I promised you this?"
The minister was approaching. He looked surprisingly grim; however, it was November. Narcissa shivered again, suddenly cold, her skin covered in nothing but lace. And there was something in Lucius' eyes.
"I do."
They were a fine match, and they knew it. Together, they escaped their usual selves, the faces they presented for public inspection. On her wedding day, Narcissa wore elbow-long black gloves; they were hiding the scars; she fancied her scars. Whenever she remembered they were there, along her thin, pale arms, Lucius' half-cruel, half-merciful smile hit the back of her mind. Then she loved him again, and again, and again.
-
Winds began to change their course unexpectedly. Lucius was changing; she was lagging behind.
-
I am Narcissa Malfoy.
(There was nothing to be proud of)
Her lips a thin, purple line, her frown ever so deep, Narcissa caressed her swollen belly. For months she was trying to figure out how would she bear and rise a child she hadn't wanted, a child who was supposed to inherit a fortune; a propensity for foolish pride; and a name that already meant betrayal.