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Title: your slightest look easily will unclose me
Character Pairing: Narcissa/Lily
Prompt: Please forget me never.
Rating: Teen, I s'pose.
Word Count: 1291
Summary: Narcissa's future is and always has been Lucius Malfoy, but that doesn't stop her from remembering.
Author's Notes: Finally got one of these done; first Harry Potter fic since, man, four years? It's been a while. As far as warnings go, there's girl kissing and suggestion of nudity/etc., I think. Title stolen from e.e. cummings' somewhere i have never travelled. Look, finally finished something! :D
Link to Prompt Table: Right hurr.
Disclaimer: I certainly do not claim any rights to Harry Potter or these characters; only the situation/this particular story was invented by myself. The rest goes to JKR, of course.

There is no doubt that the uniting of two pureblood families, particularly ones as powerful as the Blacks and the Malfoys, will be cause for celebration. The wedding will underscore this new allegiance—a necessary bond, particularly in times like these. The recent rise in mudbloods along with their acceptance into wizarding society has not gone unnoticed. The number invited to Hogwarts has become disconcerting and their association with those of higher status even more so.

Narcissa Black will delight in becoming Narcissa Malfoy so as to properly strengthen these ties. After all, she is but a servant to her family; she knows this marriage will only widen their control in the wizarding world, a strength which they cannot afford to lose. Now is a crucial time. There is a balance of power and Narcissa can only hope that this might tip the scales in their favor.

Especially if it means an opportunity to rid the world of filth like Lily Evans.

The night is nearly pitch black; the cloud cover obscures the moon and stars. The wind is relentless in its assault and Narcissa’s pureblooded vanity demands she return indoors at once. Because this—strands of her hair flying into her face, unrestrained, sneaking out in the shadows like she has a dirty little secret—is not Narcissa Black.

“Narcissa,” says a voice just behind her and this cannot be Narcissa at all (but she stands perfectly erect and each movement is like a work of art so that it can be no one but Narcissa) because the voice behind her belongs to Lily Evans. Lily Evans whose arms are folded across her chest like a challenge.

“Evans,” Narcissa greets, but the beginning’s calculated edge is softened by the quiet hiss of its conclusion. What should be formal distance is undermined by the gentle almost-upturn of her lips and blue eyes whose glare is all but forgotten. Anyone who does not know Narcissa might see only proud cruelty; anyone who has ever met her would marvel at what looks almost like affection.

“I won’t continue with this,” begins Lily, and now her folded arms seem a defense. “I won’t be some dirty fling for a pureblood who decides she wants to spice up her life with rebellion to get back at her overbearing parents. I won’t be a mudblood for you, Narcissa, and I sure as hell won’t play inferior. I am not infer—”

It’s likely that the light press of Narcissa’s lips against Lily’s comes as even more of a surprise to the former, though it is Lily whose eyes widen and who does not respond for several moments. By the time she regains certainty, she is pressed against the wall of the tower and the kiss is a far cry from its chaste beginnings. It is by no means their first kiss, but somehow it feels like an admission and a promise.

Narcissa will not apologize for her family or for the past, but the kisses she places to Lily’s collarbone mean things she does not dare to confess.

Narcissa has been preparing for this moment for her entire life, ever since her mother first explained to her at age five the talents a pureblooded lady would need to acquire. She recalls vividly the portrait painted of a life in which her husband forever took priority. She recalls, too, her first performance as the lady she would become at one of her mother’s functions; she recalls the subtleties of every welcoming smile (biting just beneath the surface) and the dramatically hushed whispers, just loud enough for rumors to spread. Her husband would not understand her role as a woman and he shouldn’t.

Her smile is bright, albeit distant; she does not shimmer with happiness or radiate joy. She is a Black, after all, and she does not fall prey to the weight of petty emotions. If she did, she knows she would not be walking down this aisle. (The realization horrifies and disgusts her simultaneously, but it also sends her heart into this terrible fluttering. And perhaps that is the worst part.) She never claimed to want a life of dreams or possibilities; this is her potential, her wonderful future.

If there is such a thing as destiny, she knows this is it. And she is content.

“What do you think of destiny, then?” Lily asks her one day, scrutinizing her through narrow eyes as she searches for an answer. They lie together on a large bed—the color of the comforter combining red and silver in a way that can be no mere accident—in a room they discovered only a few weeks ago. Hiding has not been an easy task and it was in a harried search for somewhere secret that they stumbled upon this. Somehow, it is perfect: simply decorated—though with fabrics lovely enough to suit Narcissa’s luxurious taste—with the bed at its center.

The red and silver that together make up the color scheme combine so seamlessly it almost gives Narcissa pause—but it is Lily who forever seeks questions, Lily who puzzles everything out (while simultaneously acting the part of the most rash person Narcissa Black has ever known), and so she never remarks on it. She doesn’t have to.

Now Narcissa lies on her back and stares up at the ceiling while Lily rests beside her, one elbow propping her up, watching Narcissa. It would be annoying if it wasn’t Lily, if she wasn’t chewing her bottom lip the way she so often does when trying to piece together an answer or solve a particularly challenging question and if hair wasn’t mussed quite like that and if she wasn’t clothed in only the blankets she has wrapped around her. But Narcissa still rolls her eyes, pretending for a moment that she has some pureblood dignity to maintain.

“I’ve had a destiny from the day I was born,” she remarks, not quite an answer to the question—mostly because she doesn’t have one. Speculation of this sort, after all, was never meant for a lady of her standing.

Lily makes a humming sound in the back of her throat—partly, Narcissa imagines, because the future is something they don’t often discuss and partly because she doesn’t consider it an adequate answer. “I think it’s complete rubbish.” The words come out forceful and stubborn—and so very Lily Evans—despite the light press of her fingertips against Narcissa’s skin.

“Hm,” Narcissa replies, noncommittally, staring endlessly at the ceiling. It is not until Lily’s grip becomes tighter and she whispers her name that Narcissa looks in her direction. Green eyes—bright and warm—demand something the pureblood Slytherin knows she cannot give.

But she kisses Lily’s palm, lightly, halfway between a request and an invitation.

Lily’s smirk gives her the answer and scorns the question all at once. Like it should have been obvious.

Narcissa vows to be forever Lucius’ because he is her future and she is his wife. Because they have been betrothed since she was three years old. Narcissa promises herself to him completely because their marriage will be a triumph for purebloods everywhere.

Her fate is sealed with a kiss.

She intends to leave without so much as a good-bye, but instead pauses, caught somewhere between her future and this. Red hair and sparkling green eyes. The curve of lips that have stolen away every truth of which Narcissa had been so certain. But now she must reclaim this certainty. When she whispers to the sleeping form, she means to tell Lily to forget all about her. Instead words tumble from between her lips unbidden. Reckless.

“Please forget me never.”

The night is dark. It swallows Narcissa whole.


( 9 comments — Leave a comment )
Feb. 14th, 2010 08:04 am (UTC)
So gorgeous, and everything I love about this pairing. ♥
Feb. 16th, 2010 01:01 am (UTC)
Wow, thank you so much!
Feb. 14th, 2010 01:40 pm (UTC)
This is beautiful, really. I hardly ever see fics with them, and I always thought they clashed together so prettily :)
I hope to see more of these soon :D
Feb. 16th, 2010 01:02 am (UTC)
Thank you! I completely agree; I just think the dynamic between them would be fascinating. And there should definitely be more fics with them. :D

I will do my best. *g*
Feb. 14th, 2010 02:49 pm (UTC)
Lovely picture here, and so sad for both of them. I can well believe that happening.

The 4 year layoff seems to have been fruitful.

Painfully sweet.
Feb. 16th, 2010 01:03 am (UTC)
Oh, that you felt it seemed halfway believable is flattering! Thank you very much.

Aw. I think it was. :)
Feb. 15th, 2010 08:17 pm (UTC)
I've been off writing Harry Potter fics for about five years now...I only hope my comeback is this strong!

What really charmed me was the lovely and accurate characterization of each. I think that spot-on depiction gave the piece a nice, delicate flow. I didn't feel like I was watching people swept away in a strong current, it was more like two people floating down a brook.

I loved the sense that their fates are inevitable.
Feb. 16th, 2010 01:08 am (UTC)
Aw, thank you! I'm sure it will be fantastic. :D

I'm always so worried with characterization, so I'm thrilled to hear it worked for you. And yes, I'm so glad you got those feelings. The intention definitely wasn't a strong current vibe.

Without being completely AU (not that I didn't already change their ages and, you know, pair them together), this pairing really can't be anything else. Which makes it sort of sad and also really interesting.
Aug. 12th, 2011 06:58 pm (UTC)
beautiful and fantastic. I've got my own bit that include a Narcissa/Lily so I was wondering if you had taken into consideration their canon age difference? Are they meant to be peers in this?

Forgive the questions, but I was curious. My own story is much darker and complicated. This is nice.
( 9 comments — Leave a comment )


dianna agron
your hair was long when we first met.

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