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For the past few years now, Hermione and her were working in the same circles. Narcissa had seen the girl move up the ladder of the Ministry faster than every man in power before her. Power was not really what Hermione was after, though. No, she mainly wanted to make their world a better place. There was some resistance, as there always is when you shake traditions that were never questioned before, but for the most part, everyone was happy to back up the Golden Girl.
They were bound to cross paths, as Narcissa had set up a foundation with the Black family fortune, hiring young Hogwarts graduates to oversee their operations, choose which projects to fund, help and follow. And a lot of those projects were regarding Hermione's department. Narcissa didn't want to be too involved, fearing that her participation would actually impede the work they tried to do. And forgiveness was not something she felt she deserved just because she threw money around to make up for her past. She was content with working in the shadows, using what was left of her influence in old lobbying circles. But still, Narcissa had to make appearances as head of the foundation, and surely, the Brightest Witch of her Age would always be at those events.
When Hermione was finally faced with so much resistance from some decision-makers in the Ministry that she felt she couldn't get past it, Narcissa had been surprised that the young witch had personally reached out to her for help.
Surprised, and maybe a bit anxious, as she couldn't say no to such a meeting without breaking political etiquette. But Hermione was not the brash schoolgirl her son had known anymore. She was a confident woman on a mission, navigating conversations with ease, politely stating that Narcissa’s foundation ‘had done so much to help us get where we are’ and asking if she was willing to go even further. Narcissa wasn't sure if it was a compliment when Hermione had said that her position on the fine line between conservatives and progressives would be useful for her new project. But she agreed anyway, somehow finding that she wanted to prove herself to the brown-haired witch.
As time went on, work grew into friendship, which in turn, became… something else. She wasn't ready to put a name on it yet. But here they were.
It was summer, and as businesses and politics slowed down, it’s vividly encouraged to take a break, and for Ministry employees, use the vacation days gained in the past year. Which isn't easy when you pour so much of yourself into your work. When Hermione had first proposed a road trip, to ‘enjoy the journey not the destination’, as she put it, Narcissa had been skeptical. But the slow way of travelling really made them take a step back from their fast-paced lives, and she enjoyed discovering muggle and magic places alike along their trip. It might just become a yearly tradition.
Narcissa was enjoying the sun coming through the car sunroof, toying with the silly idea of standing up and extending her arms to feel the marine air as they drove along the Cornwall coast. She looked at Hermione, one of her tanned arms on the wheel, the other resting lightly on the gear stick, her brown eyes focused on the road ahead. Neither of them talked, happy to let the songs on the radio fill the quietude inside the car. It had become easy between them anyway, they didn't need polite and forced conversation anymore, though they did enjoy heated debates as much as comfortable silence.
The next song that came on the radio had slight seventies vibes, and she smiled at the upbeat music that reached her ears, reminding her vaguely of her teenhood. But then, a woman’s voice started singing, and the words left her speechless. Suddenly, scenes from a past she had almost forgotten flashed before her eyes.
It’s winter of 1976 all over again. She’s in her seventh and last year at Hogwarts. Lily is in her sixth year, they keep evading their respective friends to spend time with each other.
Their previous year had taunting banter and flirty comebacks culminating in a heated kiss in a secluded corner of the library one night, right before closing time. Right before their finals and summer holidays too. They avoided each other after it happened, not crossing paths until the train ride to London, where they still wouldn't look at each other.
Lily was the first to crack and reach out, they spent the summer writing to each other, under the false pretense of academic discussions.
As a new school year started, tentative smiles turned into secret meetings, where young love blossomed. Stories were shared, hands grew bolder, and snow started to fall on the castle grounds while heated kisses warmed their hearts.
Narcissa feels things had been easy and joyful lately. Now that her sisters aren't at Hogwarts anymore, there's less pressure on her shoulders. When the blonde tells the story of how her middle sister ran away from their abusive family that summer, to marry the man she loved, Lily pleads for her to do the same. Pleads for them to make it official, to show the world they are a couple, and the blonde scoffs at that. Suddenly all the weight of expectations comes crashing back on her shoulders. Another daughter leaving would cover her family with shame. It would crush Bella.
Narcissa can't even fathom it.
“We are nothing,” she says, her whole body straightening.
“You know that's not true – I love you,” Lily replies, and Narcissa's heart breaks a little when she hears it. It’s the first time those words left the redhead's lips, and as she looks into green eyes, she knows it to be sincere. A lump forms in her throat, and a cold shiver runs through her spine. She turns her body away, not able to look Lily in the eyes. She knows what she has to do.
“It's a silly teenage infatuation, you can't call it love.”
Lily storms off.
A ray of sunshine had hit Hermione, and her freckles were now standing out on her skin, her hair glowing in a reddish-brown tone. Narcissa never realised the similarities between the two Gryffindors.
There is a week and a half left before christmas break, and neither of them speak to each other in that time. They go home, trying to act as if nothing happened. But really, they’re miserable. Lily locks herself in her room, listening to her mixtape of sad muggle songs on the loop on the walkman she stole from Petunia. Narcissa is a ghost of her usual self, making herself small and only providing short answers to questions she’s asked. Oddly enough, her parents seem very satisfied with her behaviour. There’s always guests at Black Manor, but the blonde doesn't really pay attention to what is happening around her.
A few days before her return to school though, she has to listen as her father informs her that the Malfoy family was pleased enough with her that they agreed to go on with her engagement with Lucius. Narcissa knew this was coming, really, she shouldn't be surprised. And yet, that night she cries in her bed, cries at the loss of Lily – because she thinks she already lost her, and it was inevitable, really; cries at the loss of her sister – and in jealous anger at the freedom she gained, only for herself to be put under a microscope as a result; cries at the weight of the world on her shoulders.
She doesn't sleep that night, but come morning, she reaches a decision. She’ll talk to Lily upon their return at Hogwarts, to smooth things over, to end things on a better note. Life will have to go on.
Narcissa doesn't admit to herself that she just wants to be close to her one last time.
She chickens out as soon as she sees the redhead on that first day back, however. Every night, she tells herself that tomorrow will be the day, but every morning, the knot in her stomach is still here, still keeping her from reaching out. On Lily’s seventeenth birthday, she finally relents, grabs her hand in a corridor before lunch break, and leads her to an empty classroom.
She closes the door, and stays a second there, her back turned, gathering her strength. When she can almost feel the green eyes burning the back of her head, Narcissa turns to look at them.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. She had a whole speech prepared, but she can’t find it in herself to say anything else.
“It’s fine,” Lily sighs, “It’s cool.”
Narcissa clears her throat. It doesn't feel fine at all, not when Lily looks at her with a sad and tired kind of understanding on her face, looks at her with care . Narcissa wants to be decisive, she really does, but there’s a question in her tone when she states, “I guess this is goodbye, then.”
Lily lets a single tear run down her cheek. She looks so small as she chokes out, her eyes pleading, “I… I don't want to call it off.”
The Slytherin releases a breath she didn't know she held, and runs into the Gryffindor’s arms. Lily’s body relaxes against her own, head buried in the crook of her neck. As a hot sigh is released against her skin, she takes in the scent of red hair under her nose, it smells like wildflowers under a burning sun – it smells like home.
It feels too soon when Lily pulls back, but it’s only to look at her, sage green eyes boring into clear blue ones. Her eyes travel to the pureblood’s lips, and she closes the distance again, tentatively kissing her, and in doing so, soothes Narcissa’s aching heart.
“I missed you, baby,” Lily whispers against her lips.
They give themselves to each other for the first time that day, entirely, completely.
The sun was warm on Narcissa’s face, the wind coming from the open car windows not doing much to cool her cheeks. Hermione hummed softly to the song beside her, and Narcissa spared a look at her lips. They looked incredibly soft.
Narcissa did not know if the memories flashing behind her eyes or her longing gaze was what made her flush. Maybe it was just due to the summer air.
Lily and Narcissa resume their meetings after that, though it feels even more secret than before. No more sneaking out into the grounds for a walk around the lake or at the edges of the forest; sharing secrets, confessing dreams and hopes. No more studying together in their corner at the library, hidden from prying eyes. No, it's always empty classrooms and broom closets, lately. Sometimes the prefects’ bathroom.
Narcissa knows that her words still weigh heavy in Lily's heart, she knows Lily is somehow trying to protect herself. She shouldn't have indulged in this, should've stopped it like she said she would. But they both seem unable – unwilling – to stop themselves.
In the meantime, Lucius has been writing letters to her. She ignored the first few ones, but after receiving another letter from her own mother, she replies - as courteous and polite as ever. He's a charmer, she can tell, and yet she still finds herself confiding in him, as he does to her. He shares his struggles as a young graduate, he comforts her about her fears. They both understand the pressure of bearing a certain family name.
They start to meet at Hogsmeade on weekends, everything is very chaste at first, and she feels like Lucius could have made a great friend if they weren't promised to one another. She meets some of his friends then, and she also sometimes brings some Slytherin classmates (she wouldn't call them ‘friends’) for a shared drink. They're just talking, laughing; and honestly, it takes Narcissa's mind off her struggles.
And it takes her mind off Lily. She has seen how green eyes bore through her when their paths crossed on those weekends, she could feel the redhead staring. And how angry and defeated she looked every time.
However, they're still ignoring each other in public. As much as their bodies get closer, the tentative intimacy they had built widens. They don't talk much anymore, and a lump thickens in Narcissa’s throat at the thought. It feels suffocating, like all the air left her lungs to place itself between them, an unspoken barrier that changed their relationship from a romance to a sexually explicit kind of love affair.
It’s after one of their rendezvous, that Narcissa slips up and tells Lily she loves her.
She was coming down from her high, and the redhead was looking at her like she was a masterpiece from an ancient time, so close and yet so far away. She just wanted to erase the hurt veil she saw in those green eyes.
She kind of succeeded, in a way. The veil makes way for tears that flow amongst freckled cheeks.
“It’s not fair,” Lily cries, her voice cracking.
Narcissa doesn't even know what to reply to that. Of course it’s not, it’s not fair for her either! She opens her mouth slowly, trying to gather her thoughts, but Lily beats her to it.
“I need air,” she says, and storms off, again.
The blonde knows right then that she’s not gonna entertain this anymore.
Hermione fiddled with the screen between them, looking at the route they still had to travel. Soon they’ll reach the bed and breakfast they had booked to pause for the night. Narcissa tried to focus on her movements, but the song was still on, and still taking her back in time.
They're avoiding each other again. While Lily openly looks heartbroken, Narcissa hides her pain, throws herself even more into her personna of popular Slytherin queen. And at Lucius.
He takes the change well – a little too well, if you ask Narcissa. She misses the confidant she found in him, and how vulnerable he was with her at first. Now the blonde wonders if it was all just to win her favour. Lucius is now only talking of his business plans, politics; and how they would make the perfect couple to appear at official events. He’s getting bolder physically too, grabbing her waist while walking on the cobblestones, laying a hand at the small of her back when he guides her through a shop door.
Narcissa doesn’t say a word about it. She knows it’s what is expected of her, the picture perfect pureblood wife to the powerful pureblood husband. More like power-hungry than actually powerful, for now, though. There really is no point in delaying the inevitable anyway. But she still stiffens, and thinks of another pair of hands she’d rather have around her.
Spring has been here for a while now, and students enjoy their last Hogsmeade outings before exams start. Narcissa is really stressed and tired, with the preparation of her N.E.W.T.s, the prospect of the wedding that summer – and with dealing with the loss of Lily, still.
So, when Lucius offers to meet at the Three Broomsticks to blow off some steam, with all her clique of Slytherin 7th years and his friends, she accepts. They are all inebriated – even Narcissa – and empty firewhiskey shot glasses were piling up on their table. The blonde spots red hair in the crowd of patrons, and all kinds of emotions flow through her. Anger, sadness, desperation. She just wants to get her back, to see if Lily still feels something.
Narcissa kisses Lucius. The table all cheer loudly, and she says above their voices, “And that, baby, is how a woman kisses”
She locks eyes with Lily as she’s talking, she wants to be sure the woman saw and heard. Some part of her wants the muggleborn to react, to make a scene even, anything really. But the redhead just stares, frozen for a moment, then turns back to her friends like nothing happened.
Less than an hour later, Narcissa sees Lily leave her table and the blonde quickly excuses herself, pretending to go to the bathroom to follow her. They still have a couple hours before they have to be back, but Lily is taking the road leading to Hogwarts, looking at the ground, hands in her pockets.
Narcissa stealthily catches up with her and pulls her into a small alley between old stone houses. She can see a startled look in the redhead's eyes for a second, but it barely registers in her foggy brain and she pushes the girl against the wall and kisses her with passion. Lily can smell the strong alcohol on the blonde’s breath and starts to push the woman away from her. Narcissa’s eyes open, they’re glossy - clouded - and she tries to compose herself back to her cold demeanor, but her defeated posture still shows through.
The blonde’s stomach clenches but it’s not the alcohol. She staggers slightly.
Lily takes her into her arms to stabilise her, whispering into her ears, “You should call me baby, not him.”
Narcissa fights to stop the world from turning too fast around her. She locks her eyes into deep green ones, seeing the pain in them so plainly makes the lump in her throat tightens. The pain becomes hers, it’s too much to take in, she has to stop this feeling.
“I must do what my family expects of me,” Narcissa whispers. “There is no other way.”
“I can’t hear your excuses and your stupid reasons anymore, Cissa.”
“It’s not an excuse! It’s just the way things are in my family!” Narcissa sounds angry and desperate, but then adds softly, her tone pleading, “We can still keep this as our little secret. Lots of pureblood couples do other things in the shadows of their marriage.”
“I don't want to be your secret ‘thing’ to do ‘in the shadows’! Why do all of you fucking Slytherins can’t be honest instead of being deceptive, acting behind closed doors to protect your power!”
Narcissa straightens her spine and chuckles haughtily. Her eyes lock into Lily’s again, but all the vulnerability is gone, they’re back to the ice blue everyone gets to look at. She’s always been able to erect walls around her in defense.
“Well I am a ‘fucking Slytherin’, so… It’s the way I am.” Narcissa’s voice is cold, final. Silence stretches between them, a world of ‘what ifs’ that flashes on both of their faces, as they stare at each other for what feels like hours.
Finally, Lily breaks the silence.
“Well, good luck babe,” she whispers.
And leaves.
The car came to an abrupt stop and Narcissa startled. A cow was on the small country road, and they waited for it to cross before moving on. The brunette was a good driver, so the seatbelt didn’t really hurt Narcissa, but still she felt a dull pain in her chest as she thought of her last interaction with Lily. Hermione picked up speed, and soon the sounds of the motor and music lulled Narcissa back to her thoughts.
Narcissa graduates with all of her N.E.W.T.s and never sees Lily again. She marries Lucius that summer, as expected, and tries to forget ginger hair by gripping blonde ones, tries to forget soft freckled skin by caressing clammy cold one, tries to forget smart humour with scathing sarcasm.
It’s a tight rope, but she gives her all. She only really succeeds though, when she tries to forget green eyes by looking into big grey ones, pure and innocent, looking up at her like she’s the whole world. It was all worth it if it brought her her son, she rationalises.
When she hears about the Potter’s death, she hands over a few-months-old Draco to the elves for the first time since he’s born. She cries in her bath for hours, well after all the water has turned cold; so cold, her blood felt like ice.
She wears that ice fiercely after that, to protect herself, never letting it go except for her son.
The years pass, and as she sees the claws of darkness grow tighter around Lily’s son, around her own family and her darling son, she often wakes up in the middle of the night, her husband next to her. Sitting up, with her head in her hands, she feels helpless, nothing more than a trophy pureblood wife. She’s afraid the cold she’s worn elegantly for so long will finally reach her core. Narcissa can’t stand this anymore, can’t stand him , but she doesn’t know anything else.
Then, in the cold darkness of a forest, worries for her son at the forefront of her mind, a little Gryffindor courage finds her. From mother to son, from a pair of green eyes to another. And everything is finally over.
The divorce with Lucius is finalised while he’s still in Azkaban waiting for trial. Her son moves on, finds a family of his own. They’re free, and she finally learns to be honest.
The song ended, and Narcissa forced her eyes to refocus on the present, glancing at the witch on her right side to reassure herself that the cold had never managed to plague her heart. She did not want to act in secret anymore, she wanted to be honest. For Hermione.
“Darling… that song…” Her voice felt rough. Immediately, Hermione looked at her with concern on her face.
“Hey, are you ok?” the younger witch asked. When Narcissa nodded and smiled softly, she added, “What about the song?”
“It feels like she wrote it for me,” Narcissa whispered. Hermione glanced at her looking confused, and then laid her eyes back onto the road, frowning. “I never told anyone.”
So, she told her. Everything. She hesitated when she had to reveal who her first love was, to make sense of her chagrin upon their death. But Narcissa chose honesty, might as well go all in. When she talked about what she felt when saving Harry, Hermione asked :
“I thought you did it for Draco, that’s what you told me.”
It had been a painful conversation at the time. When she had been tired of Hermione insisting that she had made the right choice in the end, she had snapped. She was still guarded, after all, and so full of shame, she couldn’t bear it. She had told her how selfish it was, how she only did it for Draco, and that Hermione should really stop wasting her time trying to get close to someone as dark as her. She was glad the witch had been stubborn in the end.
“I did do it for Draco,” Narcissa answered, “but I was still so scared, almost convinced it was already too late, I needed some bravery.”
Hermione pensively hummed, taking it all in. After a while, she turned to Narcissa, “I’m glad you told me. But I’m sorry for the heartbreak.”
“It’s alright, it was a long time ago. In the end, I could not stop the world from turning.” And Narcissa was glad she couldn’t, because she definitely didn’t want to stop this feeling either. She smiled at Hermione, all of her affection for the woman radiating from her as she looked into brown eyes. “She told me so.”
They both laughed softly, and Hermione moved her hand from the gear stick to Narcissa’s own. The blonde let a small breath out as she looked at the smile still on the other witch’s lips, reflecting on the last few years. Good luck indeed, the best of luck in fact.