Chapter Text
A pureblood witch must only be three things: pretty, polished, and present. The only alternative being putrid, petulant, and plebeian.
These words echoed in Narcissa’s mind each and every morning. She could hear her mother’s cold and smooth tone of voice so clearly.
‘Porcelain skin makes you pretty .’
Narcissa faced the mirror as she patted away at her face with a powder puff. Cosmetics had been a part of her daily routine since before she could remember. She would spend hours each morning applying an assortment of creams and ointments—some meant for the face, others for the body. Benoni’s Bewitching Moisturiser—to keep her skin as youthful as possible for as long as possible. ‘Prevention is easier than treatment after all.’ Madam Primpernelle’s Brightening Brew for a paler complexion—because no wizard worth his wand fancies a witch who appears as though she tarries in the sun. Suzette’s Sun-Shielding Powder—in case untoward circumstances found her outside without a parasol. All of these things—every day—in that order. It was purely muscle memory at this point.
‘Silky hair makes you polished.’
How unfortunate that the founder of Sleekeazy’s be a blood traitor. The revolutionary tonic supposedly allowed for smooth tresses up to a week at a time. So much more convenient than the solution Narcissa was meant to use. Each morning, she’d reach for the small crystal decanter purposefully stowed away in furthest corner of her nightstand—lest anyone find out that her hair wasn’t naturally straight. Мадам Волочкы ~ Гладкое решение—a smoothing solution Narcissa’s father brought back with him from a business trip to Moscow. Bellatrix and Andromeda had always refused to drink the foul tasting stuff, opting to tackle their unruly curls in alternative ways. Narcissa wasn’t so stubborn. One generous swig of the potion daily and her long blond hair fell loose and straight like the finest Parisian silk—at least until water was reintroduced. Narcissa always avoided the rain like the plague.
‘A keen sense of fashion makes you present.’
The school uniforms had grown on Narcissa somewhat. That said, she still relished weekends for the simple fact that uniforms were not required. What a wondrous thing it became to throw open the doors to the armoire beside her bed and sift through the sea of fine fabrics that hung on cushioned silk hangers. Narcissa’s gowns had become the envy of all the other girls in her dormitory—despite her cousin’s incessant critiques regarding the lack of anything pink present in her wardrobe. Narcissa always felt pink to be an ostentatious colour—tawdry and infantile. ‘Good taste in fashion shows those around you that you value being in their presence, after all.’
Everything regarding her appearance had to be perfectly curated—carefully calculated—meticulously crafted.
To settle for anything less was simply not an option.
After dressing, Narcissa twirled once in front of the mirror, smiling at her reflection before heading out of the dormitory just in time for the other girls to only begin to wake.
“Good Morning.” Narcissa greeted Andromeda as she approached the sofa where her middle sister sat comfortably enjoying her tea. Narcissa beamed at the vibrant purple liquid inside her sister’s cup. “Is that Butterfly Pea Flower?!”
“Woke up to a care package this morning,” said Andromeda, smiling as she stirred the beverage with a spoon. “Father sent enough for all of us. I love reading the little notes he always sends along.” She fetched a note from her pocket and began to read: “‘I have absolutely no idea why this tea is important, but your mother insists it is. Do enjoy, my darlings’.”
Narcissa chuckled, accepting one of the teabags from Andromeda. The enchanted kettle floated over at Narcissa’s motion toward it with her cup, and she eagerly added the bag to the hot water. She did so enjoy watching the beverage change into a dark purple as it steeped, and change again to a bright pink when she added a bit of lemon.
“Where’s Bella?” Narcissa wondered, blowing away the sweet-scented steam from the surface of her cup. Then again, she questioned whether or not it really was surprising that her eldest sister hadn’t joined them yet.
“Likely hasn’t even woken yet,” said Andromeda, and she sounded as if it were obvious. “They kept her extra late last night, those house-elves. I think they wanted to get a good thorough usage out of her on her last night of detention. I don’t blame her for being so exhausted lately. Two weeks of mopping floors and scrubbing dishes by hand—can you imagine?”
Narcissa was left with little to imagine as Bellatrix lethargically descended the stairs from the dormitories. She was done up as usual, but Narcissa would have recommended she conceal the dark crescents under her eyes better, if she didn’t look so utterly exhausted. Bellatrix shuffled over to her sisters and slumped down on to the sofa next to Andromeda with weighty sigh.
“Morning,” said Andromeda gently. Bellatrix sat motionless, eyes closed and head lolled to one side. “Congratulations on your first day of freedom. Just think, you’d already be in the kitchens right now, preparing breakfast with the elves.”
Bellatrix turned to face Andromeda with a look that made the middle sister press her mouth shut.
“It might be wise to present as if you enjoyed it somewhat,” Narcissa suggested, “A wizard with any forethought at all will view it as desirable skill. Just think about how wonderful Mother’s cooking is. Father always boasts about her culinary skills at parties.”
Bellatrix aimed her look of displeasure at her youngest sister now.
Just then, a hooded figure—tall and thin in frame—emerged from the boys’ dormitories. The mystery individual’s footsteps were light as they descended the stairs and exited the common room.
“That was odd,” said Narcissa, confused to see someone up at this hour. It was a common place for the sisters to gather well before anyone else arose for the day. Their beauty disciplines demanded them up by four in the morning. “We’re still within curfew. Where are they going at this hour?”
“I think that was Malfoy,” Andromeda figured, “It’s Skeeter. She’s been pestering him lately. Word is Pince had to ward her away from the library for Malfoy’s own sanity.”
And suddenly, Narcissa wondered if this Skeeter was the reason Lucius hadn’t been present in the library when she attempted to pay him a friendly visit.
“Who?” Asked Narcissa, definitely intrigued.
“Rita Skeeter,” said Bellatrix, rolling her eyes. “Nosey thing. Likes to be in everyone’s business, but goes about it without any class whatsoever. She could lean a thing or two from Ana.”
“She’s been trying to cozy up to Malfoy recently,” Andromeda added, “Quite recently in fact. He and Skeeter have been in an unfortunate game of hide and seek for the last week or so. He’d stay in his dormitory all day if he could, I’m sure. But he shouldn’t have to. The girl knows no boundaries.”
The girls spent the morning gathered close to Bellatrix as she regaled them with stories of her time in the kitchen. About how the elves’ cheery attitudes and sing-songy voices made her want to exercise the killing curse on them.
Breakfast was uneventful as usual. The Great Hall was filled with substance-less conversation and the occasional slur towards the other house tables. Nothing special.
“Don’t you look pretty,” McNair gawked across the at Narcissa. “You ought to let me take you to Hogsmeade sometime. Sneak you in for a butterbeer or two at The Three Broomsticks.”
Narcissa’s appetite was vanished the moment he flashed his crowded teeth at her.
“Like hell,” Bellatrix piped up. “There’s plenty of Half-blood girls with loose enough morals for you to pray upon. Though, even they care about basic hygiene. What’s your excuse?”
“Bloody Bitch,” McNair settled further into his seat and grumbled angrily.
“Oh, stop.” Bellatrix winked facetiously at him. “You flatter me.”
A girl, looking rather distraught, entered the great hall and plopped down at the far end of the Slytherin table.
“Huh.” Andromeda examined the girl’s saddened demeanour. “I think Malfoy’s finally done it. Must have opened up alternate dimension to escape that one, or likely learned a disillusionment charm.”
“Don’t know what has Skeeter so stuck on him,” mentioned Bellatrix, “She’s in my year. Way too old for him anyway.”
Narcissa didn’t struggle to see the appeal. She found the Malfoy heir quite nice-looking. Not like many of the other pureblood boys who clearly relied solely on their blood status as means of impressing others, while their looks and personalities suffered at the hands of their own neglect.
She also wondered about this legendary hiding spot. Narcissa went through the extent of the castle’s layout in her head, pondering the best places for one to be reclusive. She quickly dismissed this effort upon figuring any spot she could think of to hide, Skeeter had already thought of as well.
It wasn’t until later, when Narcissa passed by the statue of the One-eyed Witch that something clicked in her brain.
Bellatrix and Andromeda had gone off with their respective friends for the day, and most of the castle was vacant due to the nearby village of Hogsmeade being such a popular tourist destination in the area. Hoping she was correct in her assumption, Narcissa approached the statue, ensured no one was around, and spoke the password.
“Dissendium.”
‘Marvellous. Evan hadn’t thought to change the password.’
The floorboard shrieked as it shifted away. Narcissa stared down into the darkness and drew a breath before descending the stairs.
What possessed her with this unusual surge of courageousness was beyond her. But it only made sense. Somewhere most others wouldn’t know about. Surely if this passageway was common knowledge, it wouldn’t do as a successful hideaway for Evander and his cronies.
Narcissa cautiously made her way to the bottom of the staircase. Her Lumos charm provided her with a minuscule, yet still somewhat comforting amount of light. For a moment, she took in the sounds of dripping water and whistling wind as she attempted a few steps forward.
The air was moist, and the whole place had a mossy aroma that lingered in her nose.
Soon, rows of pyres lining each side of corridor erupted into bright flames that presented her with a path directly to what looked to be—
‘A lift?’ She was confounded . ‘Seems out of place.’
Narcissa stepped forth to a lever and pulled it back. The metal gate slid open, and she stepped inside.
The lift began moving without further instruction—downward. Narcissa immediately took note of the dropping temperature by means of her own breath becoming visible. Not even the common room was this cold. She figured she must be deeper still. The further down Narcissa was taken, she could have sworn she began to hear the sound of falling water.
‘What in Merlin’s name is this place? And why is it all below Hogwarts?’
The gate opened at the bottom of a cavern. Narcissa traipsed out, observing the immense rocky cliff faces that nearly scraped the jagged stalactites that grew from the cave ceiling. She watched them carefully, fearing one might break off any moment and skewer her.
By this point, the elusive boy was the furthest thing from her mind. As potentially dangerous as it seemed, Narcissa could not rid herself of the nagging curiosity.
The faintest orange glow cast itself on the wall ahead. Assuming it was another set of pyres to guide her, Narcissa continued on. She followed the light around a few bends before rounding the corner to the exactly what she hoped to find.
Malfoy had his back to her, sat in the middle of a large open space surrounded by cave walls that served to form a cylindrical shaped room. He sat in front of an open fire, a bubbling cauldron resting on top. A small wooden table beside him held stacks of books and neatly organised phials. Malfoy reached for an ingredient with one hand, and flipped a page in the book that levitated in front of him with the other. He dropped a sprig of something into the cauldron, and the potion emitted a small burst green smoke.
“This is quite the hideout.”
The boy nearly toppled backward off his seat from the shock. He stood at once to face her.
“What…what in Merlin’s name are you doing down here?!”
“I should think it fair to ask you the same.” Narcissa raised a blond brow at him.
“How—“ Lucius raked his fingers through his short pale hair, still flustered. “—How did you even get down here?”
“I recalled the password, as I suspect you did,” said Narcissa. She looked around the area where he had set up. The cavern walls led all the way up to a ceiling so high that a misty haze blocked it from view. “That Skeeter must be quite the nuisance of you’re willing to go to lengths like this to evade her.”
“You heard about that did you?” Lucius slumped down into the chair. “It’s become a pervasive issue for me. She seems to be everywhere. She’s chased me out of the library, found my secret corner in the Astronomy Tower, even found me down in the Boathouse.” He let out an exasperated exhale. “So, when you recalled your mention of a secret passage, I jumped at the opportunity.”
“Aren’t you worried about the others catching you here?” Asked Narcissa worriedly.
“Not particularly.” Lucius shook his head. “They’ve a steady routine. I just make sure I’m out of here before eleven at night—thats around when they show up. Gives me plenty of time to read, study, brew; whatever I need to get done.”
Malfoy retrieved his wand to conjure another spindly chair for her next to his own.
“Thank you.” Narcissa gladly took a seat. “So, how long has potion-brewing been a hobby of yours?”
“Not long,” said Lucius, “Slughorn thinks I have a knack for potion making. Says he feels the second-year curriculum is too easy for me. He’s tasked me with attempting some seventh-year brews on my own time to see if I should be placed in Advanced Potion Making.”
“That’s incredible,” said Narcissa. She contained her enthusiasm to a minimum for fear of her voice dislodging a loose stalactite from the ceiling.
“I suppose,” replied Lucius, “Although, part of me thinks it might be wise to stick to brewing advanced potions for fun. I do like a good challenge, but I’ll happily take the easy marks. Plus, the potions I like to brew can’t be done in Slughorn’s class.”
“Really?” This piqued her interest greatly. “Like what?”
“Like what have I brewing now.” Lucius gestured to the bubbling cauldron. Narcissa peeked inside, not recognising its contents. Lucius smirked. “Odiumtentia—Hate potion.”
“Hate potion?” She wondered if she heard him correctly. “That exists?”
“Sort of experimental,” said Lucius, “You’ve heard of Love Potion I presume—Amortentia? I studied the recipe, and sought out ingredients with opposing qualities. It should work, in theory.”
Malfoy turned to the contents sprawled out on the little table nearby, and grabbed a phial that contained a crushed substance that glinted in the light.
“Love Potion calls for crushed pearl; The stone symbolises love and happiness. What I have here is opal. In many cultures, it represents evil and misfortune.”
“Fascinating.” Narcissa watched the boy pour the powdered stone into the cauldron, and a black mist rose from it. “But wait, should your experiment prove successful, who exactly are you looking to use it on?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Malfoy sneered as he plucked one of his hairs and added it to the potion. “That bloody Skeeter.” He dipped his ladle into the brew and filled an empty phial with it. He corked it, and held it up with a victorious grin. “One taste of this, and she won’t be able to stand the thought of me. Amortentia causes uncontrollable infatuation. This concoction will make Skeeter loathe my very existence.”
Lucius bottled the rest of the brew in several phials and collected his belongings. He’ll put out the small fire and cooled his cauldron with a blast of ice. After shrinking down his belongings and stowing them away in his leather satchel, he vanished the wooden table and chairs with ease.
“Best get going,” Lucius sounded cheery. “No need to hideaway anymore once Skeeter takes a sip of this.”
“How do you plan to get her to drink it?” Asked Narcissa. She hated to sound as if she was attempted to find holes in his plan, but she enjoyed the vigour in which he spoke with.
“That’s the easy part,” He said, “The girl has to eat sometime. I’ll just slip it into her pumpkin juice during lunch. She won’t even taste it.”
“You’re having lunch in the Great Hall then?”
Malfoy stopped at her question.
“I—er—admit that I didn’t think that far ahead. Been ages since I’ve enjoyed a meal in there.”
“You can sit with me.” Narcissa immediately realised how desperate that sounded. “With my sisters and I. They’re good company. Bella can be a bit outgoing, but she’s just—eccentric that way. It’s all in good fun.”
“Bellatrix? Lucius recalled. “She actually gave me a bit of help last year. Got me down from Ravenclaw Tower last year.” He blushed brightly, rubbing the back of his neck to try and soothe his embarrassment. “I never did properly thank her for that.”
“Splendid.” Narcissa smiled delightfully. “It’s settled then.”
The pair made their way up the lift and back into the daylight shining through the windows of the castle. They barely made it two steps before they were rushed by the last person either of them wanted to see.
“Ah, Lucius!” Rita squealed, embracing the boy so tight that his head threatened to pop before mercifully releasing him. “Goodness! I’ve been looking everywhere for you! You simply must read the article I’m writing about Kettleburn. Have you heard he’s been getting sozzled during breakfast? Of course you haven’t. Word is he’s drinking swapped his orange juice with Ogden’s! Can you believe it?!”
“I most certainly cannot.” Lucius regarded her with the most enthusiasm he could muster—which was none at all.
“I was thinking,” Skeeter continued, oblivious to the boy’s blatant disinterest. She placed a hand on his shoulder and began walking him down the corridor. Narcissa just followed close behind. “Your father is quite influential. I’ve already had so many peers claim my work to be exceptional. What better to secure my place at the Daily Profit upon graduation than to have the Abraxas Malfoy endorse my journalism skills? It will be perfect! Just think about it—Missus Rita Cornelia Malfoy, wife of Lucius Malfoy, Head Director of the Daily Profit.”
Narcissa scrutinised the blathering girl heavily.
Skeeter was blond too, tall and thin. She might have been nice looking if only she hadn’t styled her tragically short hair in such tacky ringlets. Another decently pretty girl with an unfortunate personality, Narcissa thought—just like her dearest cousin Priscilla.
“Sounds like you have it all sorted out,” said Lucius. He looked both repulsed and terrified the older witch.
“Oh sit with me at lunch won’t you?” Rita gave an exaggerated pout. “You can read my article and give me your thoughts on it.”
“Well, actually I—“ He turned to Narcissa, awaiting patiently as this exchange continued.
“Oh.” Skeeter gave her a once over. “So sorry. I didn’t see you there. Lucius didn’t mention he had a—sister?”
“A friend,” said Narcissa, smiling politely as best she could as to not come off catty.
“How nice,” said Skeeter, her kindness clearly fraudulent. “And you are?”
“Narcissa Black,” she said, hoping her surname would strike enough fear to warrant a bit more respect.
“Black.” Skeeter gasped with feigned astonishment. “Magical nobility. I suppose you expect me to curtsy?”
Narcissa was both annoyed and unimpressed now.
“I’ve class with your sister—Bellatrix,” said Rita, “Thinks she runs the place. She’ll definitely be in my tabloids one day. Ah, I can see the headline now. ‘Pureblood Aristocrat Turned Reclusive Spinster Dies Alone in Manor—Unmarried and Unhinged’.”
Skeeter’s unpleasant cackle was harsh against the eardrums.
“Your other sister is good though,” She went on, “Very smart, very likeable. If ever there was any hope at restoration for your family name, it’s her.”
The girl pawed at Malfoy’s shoulder. He cringed at the gesture.
“I don’t suppose she needs to join us, Lucius?”
‘I don’t suppose you need to join US, you mean!’ Narcissa held her tongue.
“She can, actually.” Malfoy gave Narcissa a little smile that seemed to irk Skeeter
“Very well.” Rita pulled on Malfoy’s arm. “This way then. “I hear their serving beef wellington today. I know you it’s your favourite. Likely to be especially good, considering Black’s no longer forced to toil in the kitchens. Everything put out in those weeks tasted off, if you ask me.”
When she tugged him along again, his satchel slid from his shoulder. It hit the floor with a thud, the contents spilling.
With Malfoy indisposed, Narcissa tried to act quickly. She went for the potion as it rolled away, but failed to reach it before it rolled off the edge of the moving staircase. She sighed at the distant sound of glass shattering.
“Whoops.” Skeeter made a regrettable face. “Hope that wasn’t an assignment of yours. No matter, we can work on it together later.”
So much for the plan.
Lucius at least tried to save the spot next to himself for Narcissa at the Slytherin table, but Skeeter slid down in between them with intention. The older girl talked the poor boy’s ear off during the entire lunch hour, gabbing on about how successful of a career she would have with the help of Malfoy’s father’s influence, as well as how good she and Lucius would look together on the cover of Hecate as newlyweds in their sumptuous robes.
If ever Lucius tried to pay Narcissa even the slightest amount of attention, Rita would serve as a physical blockade between the two.
Bellatrix and Andromeda gave their youngest sister confused looks from down the length of the table. Narcissa merely shrugged her shoulders at them.
She would gladly explain everything to them after lunch.
“That bitch,” Bellatrix sneered, looking out into the distance at the beautiful mountain range visible from the wooden high bridge connecting the castle to the surrounding grounds. “Thinks by sullying the reputation of others it’ll somehow make her seem more competent. That’s just lazy that is.”
“Surely she could find gripping things to cover that don’t involve defaming her peers,” said Andromeda, “What have we done to her?”
A pair of Ravenclaws came onto the bridge. The students sniggered quietly, holding what appeared to be fliers and pointing at the text.
“What have you got there, Fawley?” Bellatrix craned her neck toward the girl.
Pandora Fawley wore an amused smile as she walked to the three Black sisters.
“See for yourself.” Fawley’s eyes lingered on Narcissa as she handed Bellatrix the parchment before walking away.
The uncomfortable silence lasted too long. Narcissa tapped her foot impatiently as her sisters scanned the article.
Andromeda gasped, throwing a hand over her mouth, “She didn’t—“
Narcissa reached forth and snatched the page from Bellatrix and was greeted with paragraph after paragraph of remarkable penmanship with exquisite flourishing.
~~~~~~~
Siblings Long Lost?
One good look at the sole Malfoy heir standing near the youngest daughter of house Black and one might think both families have a bit of explaining to do.
It cannot be certain when or how young Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black began gravitating toward one another. That said, anyone with a pair of eyes will see the uncanny resemblance.
This begs the question: Just what clandestine activities has Druella Black née Rosier been up to during her wealthy husband’s distant business affairs?
Perhaps only she and millionaire aristocrat, Abraxas Malfoy, know the answer to that.
~~~~~~~
“She—she can’t do that!” Andromeda fidgeted with the pendant on her necklace. “That’s defamation, isn’t it?”
“What a cheap shot,” remarked Bellatrix, “As if Mother would be enticed by a bit of gold. The Malfoy’s may be worth millions, but we’ve billions sitting in our vault at Gringott’s. Father’s rather careless with his bank statements. Just leaves them out in the open.”
“Perhaps he just hopes you’ll respect his privacy enough not to wander into his study without his permission?” Andromeda gave Bellatrix a certain look.
“Don’t make it so easy for me to get in then.” Bellatrix shrugged. “There’s plenty of charm-resistant locks on the market. He simply doesn’t care enough to buy one. Surprised to say I haven’t found a receipt from Miniver’s in there—yet.”
“Father would never do that.” Andromeda’s glare grew harsher. “He couldn’t betray Mother that way. Besides, who in their right mind would risk infection from those filthy slags?”
Narcissa wondered about Lucius. It didn’t really come as a surprise to her the he hadn’t approached her regarding the hit-piece. Likely, he would want to retreat from it all.
“Where is that Skeeter bitch?” Bellatrix said hatefully, her spiteful eyes searching the immediate surroundings.
"Oh?" Andromeda sounded smug. "Suddenly you have a problem with libel against Mother's character?"
"No.” Bellatrix crinkled her nose at her middle sister. "I have a problem with libel against Cissy. And I would feel just the same if it was directed at you. You two know better than to take me seriously when I tease you. This—” Bellatrix gripped the article with both hands, “—is an attack on our little sister and I won’t have it.”
“We can’t technically prove Sleeker wrote this.” Andromeda pointed near the bottom of the page. “She’s left her signature off this one; purposefully, I’d imagine.”
“Oh, please,” Bellatrix scoffed, “I’d know those bloody obnoxious flourishes anywhere.”
“Don’t do anything brash!” Andromeda called after her eldest sister as she stormed off. “Umbridge will have Slughorn put you with the elves again!”
“You tell that munter to come find me!” Bellatrix’s voice was distant now. “I’ll gladly teach her a lesson next!”
“Bella, no!” And Andromeda disappeared down the length of the wooden bridge.
Narcissa knew better than to try and reason with Bellatrix, especially in the heat of an impending duel. She settled on returning to her dormitory for the time being. When she arrived, a group of girls were gathered just outside the door. Iolanthe Garnet chortled as Narcissa she approached.
“Wait until you see,” the girl said between giggles. “It’s so awful.”
Narcissa eyed the group of girls on her way in.
Heaving sobs bellowed from the centre of the room. Narcissa’s eyes bulged at the sight of her cousin kneeled to the ground, scooping clumps of long black hair off the floor and frantically patting onto her bald head, as if hoping it would magically reattach.
“Prissy—“ Narcissa gasped. Her cousin regarded her with reddened eyes.
“Get out! Don’t look at me! Get out!”
“What happened?” Narcissa was careful with her tone.
“I—“ Priscilla could barely catch her breath “—I didn’t think you’d want it! You’re always saying how much you hate sweets! I thought you wouldn’t mind! Why is this happening?!“
Narcissa looked to where her cousin pointed with a shaky finger. A pink envelope rested on her nightside table. Next to that, a frosted cupcake with one single bite taken. Narcissa went to the letter addressed to her. It read:
~To the beautiful Narcissa Black~
She scrutinised the flourishes, and a connection was made.
‘It was meant for me…’
“My hair!” Priscilla was red in the face and streams of water trailed from her reddened eyes. Her breaths were short and erratic, barely allowing her to speak more than three coherent words at a time. “What happened!? What happened! Please make it stop!”
Narcissa kneeled down to her cousin, and placed a hand on the small of her back.
“I’m sorry, Prissy,” said Narcissa gently, “But I must insist you do something for me.”
Priscilla gave her cousin a bewildered look. Narcissa called the rest of the girls inside the dormitory. Iolanthe and Vivica were still wearing amused smirks on their faces when they entered.
“Wipe those smiles off your faces and listen,” said Narcissa, “No one else can know of this—at least for the time being. I need to go handle something.” She placed her hands on Priscilla’s shoulders in an effort to soothe her. “Be gentle with her. I’ll be back.”
“If you say so,” Vivica said, and both she and Iolanthe shrugged agreeably at the instruction.
“Off to see your brother, are you?” Iolanthe said tauntingly. “Everyone’s read the article. Can’t imagine what it must feel like to be a bastard child.”
“Shut up,” said Narcissa. She demanded it.
Priscilla was still spiralling when Narcissa slipped a black cloak over herself and drew her hood. She tucking all of her hair away neatly before rushing from the dormitory.
She encountered Skeeter on the moving staircases.
“Something the matter, Black?” The older girl gloated in assumed victory. “It’s considered impolite to wear a hood indoors you know.”
Narcissa brushed past her without a word, knowing nothing but obscenities awaited just on the tip of her tongue. Clearly Bellatrix hadn’t found the girl yet, else her self-satisfactory smirk would show a few less teeth.
‘Good. Let her think she’s won for now.’
Narcissa fumed all the way up to the One-eyed witch, and the entirety of the ride down the lift. Malfoy was right where she hoped he’d be—crouched over a bubbling cauldron, about to add a pinch of something to the brew. Narcissa pulled off her hood, and the boy greeted her warmly.
“Ah. There you are,” he said, smiling brightly. “Managed to shake Skeeter off a while ago. I’m glad you came. I’ve started brewing another batch of the Hate Potion.”
Narcissa pulled the article from her pocket and shoved it in front Malfoy’s face. He gave her the same look of disbelief she too held after finishing up with the last sentence.
“What in the—,” started Malfoy
“I won’t stand for this slander, and neither should you,” Narcissa said firmly, “This foolishness has not only affected us, but now my dearest cousin as well. Skeeter has to pay.”
Narcissa’s dark look made Malfoy go even paler than he already was. He was eventually able to coerce her down to a state of rational clarity. No, they wouldn’t be poisoning Skeeter to death, as Narcissa initially suggested in the heat of her rage. Instead, Lucius proposed a more personal attack.
“There.” Malfoy gleamed at the bottle of reddish liquid. “One swig of this, and Skeeter’s journalism days are over.”
An hour and a half later, and the pair had managed to brew the ultimate form of payback. Who knew Narcissa would be so comfortable Dark Magic. Evander’s little book was open to particular recipe—a Blood Curse.
“Let’s just hope this one can make it into her goblet without shattering on the way,” said Narcissa, “Do transport it with care this time, won’t you?”
“It’s not my fault the girl has a strong grip,” Lucius protested, “Worry not. I shall have made sure this little concoction is dripped into her pumpkin juice at dinner.”
“Good,” said Narcissa, and she mused with vengeful pleasure at the thought.
She grinned even wider from just outside the infirmary the very next morning as the theatrics ensued.
“I told you, I can’t read the bloody words!” Skeeter sat upright in the hospital bed, face buried in her hands. “It’s just gibberish to me!”
“Alright, Miss Skeeter, alright.” Madam Pomfrey snapped closed the book she held and made for her office. She returned moments later with a quill and parchment. “Here. Can you try writing something for me? Your name perhaps?”
The girl snivelled, barely being able to trace three strokes with the quill before becoming agitated. Each time Skeeter brought the utensil dome onto the parchment, her hand became more and more aggressive in her attempts until angrily tossed the thing across the room and began sobbing again—even harder now.
“I can’t!” Skeeter shouted, and she sobbed harder. “I can’t even write down my own bloody name! What’s wrong with me!?”
Pomfrey embraced the distraught girl. Skeeter’s sobs could continued to echo from the Hospital Wing.
“That should teach her,” whispered Lucius to Narcissa, “She’ll be even more devastated to learn you still have all of your pretty hair—thank Merlin.”
Narcissa beamed with sadistic triumph. Curses like this were a permanent ailment. Rita Skeeter would read another book or write another word again.
“We should go see my cousin,” suggested Narcissa, “I was hoping you’d be able to whip something up that could cure her?”
“That depends,” said Lucius, “How bad is it?”
Narcissa cringed. “It’s bad.”