ice and ivory, silk and steel

"aut viam inveniam aut faciam." — i will either find a way, or i will make one;

[forever-toujourspur]

In the Garden / Tilden and Narcissa

plantsandpotions​:

Lucius, Tilden remembered, was Narcissa’s husband. He’d heard more about Lucius Malfoy at Order meetings than through the social grapevine, unlike with Narcissa, and it was difficult to ignore the pang of unease that his name stirred. They were all almost certain that Lucius was caught up in the war somehow. Whether he was a Death Eater or just a supporter of You-Know-Who’s so-called cause, there was a lot to be suspicious of. It was difficult to reconcile that with the sight in front of Tilden now, though. Narcissa looked so peaceful, sitting in the shade of his garden with little baby Draco, reminiscing about school days. Did she know what her husband was up to? Worse, was she caught up in it, too?

Tilden hoped not. He was a big believer in giving people the benefit of the doubt and Narcissa, though reserved and intimidating, had never been anything other than polite to him. He hated suspecting people based on their family and rumours and little in the way of proof. He tried to push such thoughts to the back of his mind now and simply enjoy the conversation.

Tilden smiled at her story, the expression only slightly forced as the thoughts of the war lingered. “That’s nice,” he said, picturing the little porcelain creature. It sounded like something that would suit Narcissa’s tastes well. “I think the few times he gave me gifts, it was always potion supplies. Which was always very appreciated. Maybe he was just very good at giving gifts that fit with the person.” A different student might have groaned at a gift that was essentially more school supplies, but Tilden had always thought it was great. He could never have enough in the way of potion supplies and it was extra nice not to have to buy them. Especially back at Hogwarts, when his funds had been even more limited than they were now.

Up in the branches of the tree shading them, a bird trilled out its song, echoed by another in the semi-distance of the Forbidden Forest across the field at the village’s edge. Tilden tipped his head back, searching amongst the leaves for a glimpse of the bird. It was such a peaceful summer day that his worries of the war were much easier to push away than other times, even in the unusual company he was currently keeping. The heat still hung heavy, though, even in the shade. “I suppose I should get back to gardening,” he sighed. “Before it gets even hotter.” Much as he loved working amongst his plants, he suspected he wouldn’t last too much longer outside today. He might have to call it a day soon and retreat to the coolness of the indoors.

Narcissa listened to Tilden as she watched him carefully.  There was something in his expression that made her gaze linger perhaps a second longer than it should have - or perhaps for a mere moment, she was jealous of the ease and comfort he felt at expressing himself.  For her, she had always been careful of showing emotion - Bellatrix ran hot, quick to anger, Andromeda, while more mellow, still had had a defiance streak with her parents.  Thus, it had fallen on Narcissa early to be cool, calm, and collected as much as she could, for her parents had enough to deal with.

Her mother had taught her well, to be sure, but there were moments where Narcissa wished for something simpler. Perhaps, she thought, as she looked around TIlden’s garden, that’s why this small idyllic haven seemed so appealing. It was honest in its simplicity, no purpose beneath it, just the enjoyment of a hobby.

Briefly, Narcissa found herself wondering if Draco would get to enjoy the same simplicity or if he, like her, would have to find himself wearing a variety of hats for all sorts of different people.  It worried her, to think about his future, to wonder what the world would be like in five, ten, even fifteen years.  Deep in her mind somewhere, the rhetoric of the Cause echoed emptily - that she and her husband were doing what they were to make the world better for him, but were they?  As she gazed at her dozing son, she was not so sure.

Still, when Tilden started again, Narcissa got his cue.  And he was right, she had already spent far too much time with him; she needed to get Draco home, where it was cool and shaded.  “I suppose I should take my leave as well,” she said, finishing off the glass of water Tilden had been so kind as to give her. “And really, you quite came to my rescue earlier, are you sure there isn’t anything I can do to thank you?”  She didn’t want to do anything - but society did demand its pleasantries and social cues.

Standing, Narcissa took ahold of the stroller again, just as Draco began to stir from his nap.  Likely hungry, he began to fuss slightly, but Narcissa simply handed him a pacifier with which to occupy himself until they got back to the manor.  Taking one last look around the garden, Narcissa turned back to Tilden. “Thank you for hosting me this afternoon.  I hardly meant to take you from your time.”  She offered a polite smile.  “Please, let me know if you should need anything.”

[evermore-fashion]

Favourite Designs: Linda Friesen ‘The Raven Queen’ Haute Couture Gown

[evermore-fashion]

Favourite Designs: Linda Friesen ‘Midnight Magic’ Bridal Couture Gown

[forever-toujourspur]

Only Human / Severus and Narcissa

notlibatiusborage​:

Snape had seen many smiles, many different flavours and types, but the way Narcissa wielded the corners of her lips like a curse or charm based on the tiniest of flexes was as impressive as it was intimidating. But she was right. From now on he would have to keep his nose extra clean. And given the size of it and the state of his current role in the war (not to mention his lacking personal hygiene) that would be difficult. 

While Narcissa looked out at the garden’s Severus eyes unfocused slightly as thoughts raced through him.  If it were just a case of his own knowledge he’d have the job, surely. After all the qualified and unqualified candidates they’d both suffered through during their schooling there could hardly be a wizard left with any real skill in the Dark Arts. Or their defence rather. “There is not currently an opening for a Potions Master at Hogwarts. Not unless Slughorn wants a lackey.” Severus’ expression made it very clear what he thought of being some assistant to Horace Slughorn.

But perhaps he could use his potioneering expertise as hard proof of his scholarly credentials. And despite the way Hogwarts tended to teach things, the students could probably stand to learn just how interdisciplinary magic could be. 

When Narcissa answered his careful question, it was with a question of her own, and Severus knew the question behind it was “what do you think you’re playing at?” He didn’t dare rephrase, and some small part of him worried if he had misread Narcissa. If she was as fanatical as her sister behind the elegant clothes and perfectly arranged hair. There was a streak of madness in the Black family so the rumours said, and Narcissa had always seemed the exception, but Severus now wondered if she was simply the best at hiding it. Not only that but with her wicked intelligence, she might think he was feeling out for any dissenters not due to concern but an urge to join with them. 

“forgive me, that was a poor question.” There was a slightly crawling note in Severus’ voice now, a little too easy and slick despite the jumpy eyes and the way one long finger was toying with the rim of his cup. “I mean only to say that I hope soon we can enjoy tea and sandwiches in a world that is safer.” He picked the cup up and despite the about-face of his words, the way he stared at her over the top of the teacup as he lifted it was far too intense and serious. “to the Cause.”

Narcissa resisted the urge to laugh as Severus made clear his thoughts on being apprenticed to Slughorn.  More than once she found herself envying the ease with which he expressed himself, so easy to read and to understand.  It was something that didn’t fit in her world and never had.  She wondered what her life would have been like if she had grown up in a more lenient family, outside of the pressures of heirs and purity and appearances.  She supposed she wouldn't’ quite be the same.

Still, as he answered her question, excusing his own, his easy expression was trained back into something... different.  Narcissa watched him warily as he continued, walking back his earlier statement.  He was forcing her to consider that he may not be as dedicated to the Dark Lord’s cause as others.  While she was perhaps the better person to have admitted this to, what he had nearly admitted was very dangerous.  More so if she had let on that perhaps she felt the same.

Remaining quiet at he spoke, she regarded Severus coolly, her chest clenching as she ran through options of what to say.  Finally though, he changed the subject.  Narcissa paused, eyeing him across the table before nodding slightly.  “Indeed,” she said quietly.  “A safer world.”  

Severus’ cool grey eyes seemed to bore into her and it was only though practice that Narcissa was able to hold it.  She joined him, raising the tea cup to the same level as his.  “To the Cause.” She swallowed, finding herself nauseous as she toasted the very thing which had nearly gotten her killed.  The tea tasted bitter as it went down, though whether it was the tea itself or the toast that put the sour taste in her mouth, she was unsure.  Still once she had swallowed, she looked again to Severus. “To the hope that things will get better soon.”

[evermore-fashion]

Teuta Matoshi ‘Flourishing Meadow’ Haute Couture Collection

[jaane-ghazal]

Slytherin: We play to win.

[harrypotterhousequotes]

SLYTHERIN: “I will never be satisfied. Life is one constant search for betterment for me.” –Jayne Mansfield

[forever-toujourspur]

plantsandpotions​:

In the Garden / Tilden and Narcissa

The fact that Narcissa’s gardening experimentation was mostly aesthetic didn’t quell Tilden’s interest. He would have loved to see her work in action, but saying as much felt like he would be trying to invite himself over to Malfoy Manor. Which was both impolite and a sort of terrifying prospect. “It sounds brilliant,” he said again instead. “Plants are delicate, so I know how finicky that sort of work can be.” It really was impressive.

He chuckled at her opinion on Potions. He might not agree, but he could understand where she was coming from. He loved the hands-on aspect of Potions, in the same way that he loved Herbology. Both were subjects where he was able to set aside his wand and create something (or cultivate it, in the case of Herbology) with his own two hands. To him, it didn’t feel like more work than the result was worth. Instead, it felt like the end result was truly earned.

It would seem that Narcissa was feeling much the same way about Transfiguration. Tilden smiled, appreciating that she didn’t make him feel bad for not being good at the subject, nor did she come off as braggy about her own aptitude for it. “I guess I never got to that point with it,” he said affably. “It just never really clicked. But that’s alright. I know plenty of people I can go to if I need something transfigured.” Which wasn’t actually all that often. For how intriguing the branch of magic was, it wasn’t exactly as household or commonplace as something like Charms. He didn’t need to change animals into dishware on a daily basis or alter the appearance of his furniture. He supposed that if he were more skilled in the subject he would probably find all sorts of uses for it, as Narcissa did with her gardening, but as it was, he didn’t feel like he was missing out on all that much.

He nodded at the mention of Professor Slughorn. “Yeah, I s’pose so,” he replied. He hadn’t ever really liked the feeling of being a favoured student, as nice as the professor had always been and as reassuring as his confidence in him had often felt. He just wished that Slughorn had been a little less… well, obvious about his preferences for some students over others. Especially as he sometimes ignored the students who were struggling in his classes in favour of heaping praise on those who excelled. “The food was always nice at his parties and it was fun to go with friends–” Though that had been ruined somewhat once Lily and Severus’ friendship had fallen apart. “–but that sort of thing is a bit posh for me. And I think I may have let Professor Slughorn down a bit now that I’m out of Hogwarts, not doing anything really big and grand, you know? Just working in a shop and in my garden.” He shrugged. He didn’t really strive to be the sort of person Slughorn would drag to his parties to show off to his students, claiming some hand in his successes.

“I’m guessing you went to those parties, too?” he asked.

Narcissa smiled politely over the table at Tilden, resisting the urge to expound on the endeavor at the risk of veering into socially unacceptable territory.  Moreover, there was the desire to make her work appear effortless, everything done with grace and ease.  The appearance of being better than others - the best, even - was a constant to maintain in her life, the carefully crafted idea that everything she did occurred with an other-worldly ease.

She hummed at Tilden’s explanation.  Indeed, Narcissa often found she enjoyed pure magic and theoretical magic over the use of magic for utility.  There was simply something so elegant and clean about magic more based in theory knowledge that the more hands-on work of Herbology or Potions.  Whether it was the way her wand satisfying swished through the air, or the way the work done in books came together in the final spell, she wasn’t sure.  It had always seemed a more pure type of magic, rather than the type of magic used for cleaning, or crafting, or worse still those that involved actual handiwork.

Tilden’s statement about the dinners being posh caused a slight frown to appear on her face.  Posh?  Had they been?  She had always relished the ability to get out of her robes and into a nicer dress, to chat with people she had known her entire life.  She supposed for someone who’s family didn’t make a fuss about dinners and etiquette, perhaps they might have been considered more ‘posh.’  

She hummed in agreement at Tilden’s last comment.  “Yes, Lucius and I were invited quite often.  Separately, at first, of course,” she added with a wave of her hand.  “It was a nice break from the monotony of class, and an excellent way to meet other accomplished members of the class.”  Narcissa took another sip of water, carefully eyeing the line of shade as it crept closer to the pram in the waning sun.  “There was one year he offered us all small tokens for the holidays.  I seem to recall receiving a small porcelain elephant.  It would always walk across the table while I was studying.  I confess to it being quite adorable.”  She laughed, finding herself wondering how the man had been of late.  She had not given him much thought since graduating, but the nature of the conversation brought her back to Hogwarts as she began to fondly remember more and more.

[harrypotterhousequotes]

SLYTHERIN: “A narcissist is someone better-looking than you are.” –Gore Vidal

[forever-toujourspur]

lurking despair / narcissa & edgar / the beasts

September 28th, 1980 Twillfit and Tattings Diagon Alley

A rare moment of peace had found Narcissa as she peered at her figure in a full-length mirror, clad in an evening gown that was just slightly too snug over her stomach and breasts.  She could feel the material - light, but with little give - stretching over her torso, changed by the bearing of a child.  She stood for several moments simply staring at her reflection and how it had changed over the last few months.

Certainly, she was happy to have borne a child, but still the nagging voice in her head harped on all the things that were not ‘ladylike’ about her appearance.  As saleswitch after saleswitch harped on how lovely she looked, how much her husband would love the gown, Narcissa resisted the urge to scoff, for she knew the truth.  The barely held back whispers of having to take out a few stitches, loosen the bodice and the waist.  She stood tall against these whispers, as she always had, but each one caused her to crumble slightly inside.

Finally, after shooing them all out of the dressing room, she rid herself of the gown, promising herself that she would come back for it again once she had lost the weight she’d gained with Draco and had the same measurements as before - indeed those that had garnered enviable glances and aspirations alike.  Staring at herself, the truth of what having a child does to ones body, was difficult.  Already she could see the stretch marks as they spanned  across her skin, the extra layer of fat that had added protection to her child.  Her lip turned up in distaste at all of it.

After a few minutes, she dressed once more and walked out of the store empty-handed, despite the saleswitches insistence that the gowns were more than adequate.  For some time, she walked in a daze, ignoring the people around her, focusing more on her thoughts and the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other.

This inattention proved hazardous, however, when she walked straight into the back of someone standing outside a shop.  Taking a few moments to gather her bearings, an apology immediately came out. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry.  I’m afraid my mind was elsewhere for the moment.”

Another look at the taller, familiar figure proved beneficial, however, when she discovered that it was none other than Edgar looking down at her.  “Mr. Bones,” she commented quietly.  “Do forgive me; I confess to being rather occupied.  I trust you are well?”

[lancelotprynce]

[forever-toujourspur]

Yellow: 7 facts about my childhood

{ one ; }

Narcissa grew up both the treasured golden child - obedient and beautiful - and the third daughter in an old noble family - a disappointment, a girl. With her parents, she straddled the expectations laid on her as a 'lady,' to look pretty and be silent, and to be clever, cunning, conniving even. Over the years, she has learned to expertly balance these conflicting expectations, but still struggles at times.

{ two ; }

At the realization that Narcissa wanted to learn all that she could, that she wanted to be on equal or greater footing with the men at the table, so to speak, Narcissa's father taught her what he could of old languages (Latin, Greek, some medieval French), philosophy, history, and other subjects. He began to train her in martial magic when she was 10 - and only at her insistence because Bella was learning it and Narcissa wanted to know.

{ three ; }

While more often than not, Alphard was tasked taking Narcissa to ballet once she had been enrolled in special classes, on several occasions her father took her.  Narcissa counts these among her fondest memories of her father who, while proud, was not overly affectionate.

{ four ; }

Narcissa often felt overshadowed by her older sister’s accomplishments, which in turn began to fuel her strive for ‘better.’  If she could more book-smart than Andromeda, or stronger than Bella, maybe she would have something of her own to lay claim to, and wouldn’t just be the youngest.  With her mother’s urging, this turned into Narcissa to be the ‘English rose’ of the family, trained in all ways of the lady.

{ five ; }

Narcissa’s favorite book growing up was The Tales of Beedle and the Bard.  At first, her mother read it to her, and then that task fell to Andromeda.  The book itself was an old edition.  While Narcissa won’t readily admit it, Andromeda left the book for Narcissa when she left the house and it still sits in her library as her most prized possession.

{ six ; }

Many of the happier memories of Narcissa’s childhood were spent at the family cottage.  The women would leave first in the hotter months of summer, and Cygnus would follow.  In the middle of the countryside - much different than the manicured fields and gardens of Black Manor - Narcissa enjoyed wandering the grounds, finding the old ruins and reclaimed parts of the property.  No one is sure exactly how long it has been in the family.

{ seven ; }

While Narcissa was never particularly good at it. she loved to draw.  Embarrassingly enough, she once gave a rather bad drawing to Lucius when they were both younger.  Once she realized she didn’t excel at it, she focused on other things that she was good at, that would set her apart, chief among those piano and dance.  

[periodcostumefantasylover]

Countess Ebba Sparres blue gown in The Girl KIng

[forever-toujourspur]

plantsandpotions​:

In the Garden / Tilden and Narcissa

Ah. So Narcissa wasn’t exactly the same sort of gardener as he was, hands coated in soil and robes stained green in spots by the grass. For a fleeting moment Tilden felt a wave of disappointment and even a little derision, before he mentally waved the feeling aside. Just because she didn’t like to get dirty didn’t mean that she wasn’t a gardener. Nor did it mean he was somehow better than she was for the way that he tended his own garden. Those were cruel thoughts, he told himself, and unfair ones. After all, even setting aside personal preferences, she’d just had a baby, for Merlin’s sake! Was he really going to judge her for not wanting to do strenuous work while pregnant? Or even now, with a wee baby in tow? He immediately felt bad for even briefly entertaining the thoughts.

Anyway, what she did do sounded pretty interesting. Tilden raised his brows, intrigued. Narcissa was going on to admit that she had never been particularly skilled in Herbology, but that did little to dissuade his interest. He leaned against the trunk of the tree providing their shade and shrugged.

“Do you cultivate new breeds of flowers?” he asked. “That’s brilliant!” He knew a handful of herbologists who did so and the practice always fascinated him. He’d read about Muggles who even did it, without any magic whatsoever to aid them in their endeavour. Just science and patience and a passion for growing things. He’d never bred his own flowers, leaning more towards experimenting with magical plants like Alexander the Beanstalk, or Arnold the ambulatory Venomous Tentacula, but he would love to try his hand at the more laid-back realm of flower cross-pollination.

“And Herbology isn’t for everyone,” he went on. “I reckon Transfiguration and Charms can do a lot for gardening, especially if there’s someone else to help you with the more, hah, in the dirt part of it,” he added with a chuckle, glancing down at his soil-stained hands. “I’ve always liked that bit. Herbology was my best subject at Hogwarts. Well, that and Potions, of course.” He pulled a face. “Transfiguration was… not. Hah. Not by a long shot, alas. It takes so much concentration and focus and, well, I’m a bit of a daydreamer.” He shrugged again, laughing lightly. He wasn’t all that embarrassed to admit that. There were plenty of people out there who were brilliant at Transfiguration, he didn’t need to be one of them. And as far as he was concerned, there was nothing wrong with being a bit of a daydreamer.

Tilden’s interest in Narcissa’s gardening was almost palpable, evident in the way that his brows twerked up, the intrigue in his eyes clear.  Narcissa paused, extending a pale hand to reach into Draco’s pram and idly caress the sleeping baby.  Just knowing that he was alright was enough to assuage the temporary anxiety that had taken ahold of her.

She turned back to Tilden, a polite smile easing her normally sharp features.  “Hm, I wouldn’t say that I cultivate new breeds exactly.  More... create new strains perhaps?  Such as altering certain minute characteristics like color, or the size of the blooms. The charms themselves are easy to place on them, but getting them to stick is another matter entirely.”

In his sleep, Draco’s tiny hand curled around her index finger.  He was warm in the afternoon sun.  She pulled the shade down slightly lower to shield him a little more and made a mental note to leave when she had the chance.  Tilden had been kind enough to extend his hospitality, but any longer and she feared that Draco would overheat.

“I was skilled at Potions, but it was never my favorite.  Too much up front work for such little pay-off,” Narcissa laughed quietly, remembering how she would have boys vying for her attention prep her work for her.  Eventually, she figured she could just do it better herself.  “Slughorn was an excellent professor, however. His stories made class quite enjoyable.  The dinner’s too.”

Narcissa offered Tilden a knowing smile as he spoke of Transfiguration.  Indeed it was technical and logical, the alphabet almost as important as the spellwork itself.  Once Narcissa had learned that, however, the subject had been a breeze.  “Ah, I can see how that would become an issue,” she nodded knowingly.  “It was easy once one figured out how to understand an object, the space it took up, and how to alter that, for me at least.”

Narcissa thought for a moment, recalling Tilden’s supposed talent at Potions.  “If you were proficient in Potions, did Slughorn take a liking to you?  He has rather the penchant for rooting out students who show promise.”

[perennialgrace]

forever-toujourspur​:

perennialgrace​:

afternoon tea with a side of inquisition / narcissa & daisy / august 28, 1980

Narcissa’s temper - ever a spring so tight it was ready to break - was thinning rapidly.  Her lips pressed into a thin line as she leveled an icy gaze across the table at the younger woman.  There was a scant five years between the two of them, and yet Daisy seemed so much more… immature than she had been.  “Yes,” she offered tersely. “Why ever should one keep up to date on the happenings of their friends, and the campaigns of new charities.”  She paused, a small smile twisting her lips. “Oh, but that’s right - I’m sure you don’t know anyone in the society pages, so of course it wouldn’t be important to you.”

Daisy’s eyes fell to her book and Narcissa watched as she gave a dramatic roll of her eyes.  “Educational for me, yes, though I’m sure Draco enjoys the pictures.”  Her grip tightened on the pram, even just mentioning his name to her, as if she were unworthy to even think it.  Her eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of giants.  Mermaids at Hogwarts - yes, she’d made a hobby of watching them through the glass in the common room, but giants?

Even worse still, she was talking to him.  Narcissa felt the indignation rise up within her, that she would deign talk to her son.  “Don’t talk to him,” she said softly, her voice cold and quiet but laced with venomous poison.  “Don’t talk to my son.”  She hadn’t given much thought to Hogwarts - had only been thinking about the years to come in a more general sense.  Picnics, summers at the cottage and all across Europe, teaching him to walk and talk… she didn’t even want to think about him going away to school.

“If you had any brains at all, girl, you’d know there are no giants at Hogwarts - at least not outside of that oaf, Hagrid.”  His name dripped off her tongue as if it were a soiled rag in summer heat.  “More to the point, if you had any brains at all, you would get up from this table and leave me and my son in peace.”  Narcissa’s eyes narrowed across the table as she watched Daisy carefully.  Would it be so bad to cast a Confounding Charm on her, just to make her shut up?  Could she get away with a Body-Bind?  Would that make her stop?  If anything, imagining the look on her face was almost enough to quell her temper.

Daisy snorted at Narcissa’s intended insult. Like she would be all offended by the suggestion that she didn’t know any of those high society losers! Which wasn’t even true- her stepfamily were sacred 28 and were always at those dumb parties- but frankly, she would have been much happier if she didn’t know a one of them. “I keep up with my friends by like, actually talking to them,” she said. “Like a normal person. God, who wants to read about two witches wearing the same dress robes to a party. What a waste of time!”

God, but these uppity pureblood sorts were weird. Like, what the hell sort of name was Draco? A rich bratty pureblood kid named Draco who was learning about poisons in his infancy— yeah, he was gonna turn out great. Daisy opened her mouth to say as much, but Narcissa beat her to it, practically snarling at her not to talk to the kid. Daisy raised her chin. “Or what?” she asked, before letting out a laugh at the witch’s indignation. “Fine, I won’t talk to him. He’s not exactly a thrilling conversationalist. Though, you know, I always thought that parents loved it when people went all baby-talky to their kids.”

She bristled at Narcissa’s implication. “I have plenty of brains,” she snapped, scowling. “It’s called exaggeration, ever heard of it? Though,” she added, unable to let her point go, “I’ve no doubt if there were giants roaming about the grounds, they’d be mates in no time.”

The order to leave was quite the opposite of subtle, which Daisy could appreciate. Not that she would make things that easy for the witch. “I would,” she sighed, with all the drama she possessed. “But there are no other tables available, and you know,” she continued, inventing on the spot, “I twisted my ankle the other day. It was feeling a bit better earlier, but I’ve been walking, you know, and I need to rest it now or I’ll simply fall over in the middle of the street.” She shook her head, as though it were truly a tragic moment. While also making a mental note to remember to limp dramatically when she did eventually leave the table.

[forever-toujourspur]

Narcissa resisted the urge to gape across the table at her unwanted guest. She should have known that the intricacies and benefits of knowing everyone’s business, whether gossip or truth, would have been lost on the girl in front of her. After all, that was how Narcissa was taught to think - knowledge is power, and power can be leveraged to get what you want. Her mother had ingrained that lesson in her well, in subtle smiles and dagger-like glares, in keen ears and an even keener head. Druella’s own philosophy, nearly mirrored in her daughter but not quite, was ‘why have friends and confidences when you could have sources?’ In that same way, her whole childhood, Narcissa had been warned against anyone who might want to use her for her position, for her family’s name and power. Any mistake could have been tantamount to ruin. Narcissa should have known that Daisy wouldn’t have had the same *perspective*.

A smirk gently twisted up the corners of her lips. “Your naïveté betrays your youth,” she murmured quietly. “No matter,” she brushed the matter aside, “it should hardly matter for someone such as yourself. After all, it is not likely you will ever enjoy a prominent enough position to benefit from those relationships.” For not the first time, Narcissa was reminded of how *different* she was from other people, how her own pedigree and education had shaped her life - largely for the better. She, her family, even Purebloods in general, were meant for something *better*, something more meaningful, something not afforded to common Wizardkind and Mudbloods. Glancing over at Draco, Narcissa smiled down at him. That was the future she wanted to give her son, one where his pedigree and potential would be honored over those less than worthy.

When Daisy spoke of her parenting, Narcissa stiffened. Of course, she had not said anything explicitly against her, but a barb was still a barb. “We are not most parents.” Daisy went on and on… and on. Narcissa began to wonder if she ever shut up. Soon, she lost the original point that Daisy had been trying to make and decided not to press it further. Admittedly, Narcissa was tiring of Daisy’s presence and the usually long fuse of her temper was running short, between lack of sleep, constant worry, and the knowledge that this evening would see only a few hours of sleep once more. She sighed quietly, resolving to sit inside from now on - where unwanted company may be screened at the door.

This resolution, of course, only lasted until her request for Daisy to leave was willfully ignored and an elaborate lie constructed to remain. Left with two options - leave or stand her ground - Narcissa narrowed her eyes across the table at the girl. “Yes, you might injure your ankle further. What a pity that would be.” Her voice dripped sarcasm in an uncharacteristically unsubtle way. For the smallest of moments, Narcissa considering conjuring ropes to tie her to the chair - at least that way, she would get the rest she so desperately wanted. “Though with so many other chairs available to you, I have to wonder why you chose mine. What you may be hoping to gain…” Narcissa let herself trail off, goading the girl into her next response.

[hidekomoon]

𝒽 𝑒 𝒷 𝑒,  g o d d e s s   o f   y o u t h   a n d   c u p b e a r e r   f o r   t h e   g o d s 

[forever-toujourspur]

notlibatiusborage​:

Only Human / Severus and Narcissa

He gritted his teeth slightly, grinding the sandwich to nothing in his mouth trying to keep the stress off his face. The worst part was that she was right. He knew from his own experience that people only understood when they were made to. When the world turned and turned against them. He didn’t have to like it though.Tilden (and Lily) didn’t deserve pain to teach them. He wanted to spare them that if he could. But more and more it seemed that he couldn’t protect them from the ravages of the underground warfare going on beneath their noses.  

One long finger traced along the edge of the teacup as he planned his words, speaking slowly and evenly but with a hint of tension at the corners of his eyes. “The Headmaster has never believed me before. Never cared to listen to my side of things. He always assumed the worst of me, and-” a hard, unpleasant sound, almost a growl but cut short forced its way between his teeth. “Trusted his precious Gryffindors.” He rubbed a hand across his mouth, as if smearing the bitter taste of his school days from his lips. “I can’t leverage my blood, or- “ He shook his head, shoulders rounding forward as he continued to poke at the teacup. “Hopefully whatever it is that keeps the Dark Arts teachers from staying continues and I can try again next year. As long as I keep my nose clean. I think this year I was too…suspect.” After all, it hadn’t been too long ago that he’d been pulled in for questioning, nor had it been long since his kidnap at the hand of masked vigilantes, possibly at the behest of the man he was trying to hoodwink. And his association with Lucius and Narcissa likely wasn’t helping his case.

Narcissa seemed so much more accustomed to cloak and dagger. It was probably a by product of growing up in this world. Before she married a Malfoy she had been a Black, after all, and Sirius and Andromeda aside, they were consummate pureblood paragons. His own Magical heritage in the Princes was practically nothing compared to that long genealogy. His cohort of Slytherins had all seemed inter-related. He supposed that as much as he convinced himself he didn’t want to be an inbred, pampered pureblood, he was envious of them all. 

He looked up, dark eyes determined and severe, “I will get that job, one way or another, I just need an angle.” He needed his job at the apothecary. He could just about afford living expenses without it, but books and pamphlets and new recipes were practically as important as food to him, and they didn’t come cheap, even when he had a good relationship with Karkaroff at Volkov’s. And he needed to try and forget, or ignore the increasingly violent means of the Cause towards its ends. “Do you-” He couldn’t ask that. It would put them both at risk of sounding treacherous. Perhaps another phrasing.

“Do you think that the others are as committed to the ultimate aims of the Cause as we are?” Good. Affirmed they were both loyal, but rather than expressing displeasure at the violence, hinted that it was the possible disloyalty that worried him.

Narcissa kept a careful eye across the table at her guest, listening as he spoke.  Once more, she was reminded of his youth, especially as he spoke of misgivings and resentments from school.  While she was not too far from her last year at Hogwarts herself, it felt infinitely longer than the scant six or so years it had actually been.  She herself had grown in those years and while she still may have felt occasionally like that same small, trapped little girl, she also knew what she was capable of on her own.

Narcissa took a delicate sip of her tea, the now cooling peppermint soothing.  A chilling smile turned up the corners of her lips as she placed the teacup back on the saucer.  “Then the answer is simple,” she began, a slight chuckle coloring her words.  “Assume that he believes the worst and work from there.” Narcissa gave a slight nod.  “Even in the face of bias and assumption, when presented with facts that strongly lean in one direction, any reasonable person would have no reason to doubt the individual they came from.”

Her gaze strayed out the window and to the gardens beyond, the setting sun bathing the room in a blueish-gray hue.  “Dumbledore cares not a thing for blood, for prestige.”  Narcissa’s nose wrinkled, remembering his fondness for all students, not just those who deserved it.  “In that regard, there is nothing to leverage.  Far more useful is your own knowledge.  That will impress him far more than blood.  You are a talented potioneer, few can deny that fact.  That in itself is a foot in the door, if you will.”

When Severus looked back up at her, his gaze was sharper, hardened y determination.  Softened only slightly by stuttering over the question, Narcissa bristled in a slight fashion.  She had thought that she had disabused him of this line of inquiry, and yet, he still persisted.  It was a fine line to tread.  Instead, Narcissa gave a soft, fabricated laugh. “In what sense might they not be?”