On Her Own

On Her Own

Narcissa, the ice queen, she told herself as she stared at the frigid features in the mirror. She took a silver brush from the vanity drawer and halfheartedly pulled it once through her pale, shimmering hair. It almost looked silver with the candlelight reflecting off of it. She replaced the hairbrush. I need to get out, she thought.

She stood regally and proceeded down the spiral stair to the ground floor. Sorting through the keys she kept in her pocket, she selected an ornate brass key and fitted it in the lock of the heavy oak door.

On my own, pretending he's beside me.
All alone I walk with him till morning.
Without him I feel his arms around me.
And when I lose my way I close my eyes and he has found me.

It was raining outside in the gardens. Moonlight peeped throught the stern and distant clouds, and the occasional star could be seen shining beyond the treetops. Narcissa smiled as the clouds shifted to unveil a pair of bright stars. They seemed to hang in the boughs of the tall silver birch like a pair of diamond earrings. The smile melted from her face. Diamond earrings. Narcissa put a hand to her bare earlobes; she didn't wear earrings to bed, and rarely wore them during the day, when no one else was around except the house elves or occasionally Draco. Lucius had given her a pair of beautiful diamond earrings as a gift before they were married. Suddenly, the stars were not so beautiful any more.

In the rain, the pavement shines like silver.
All the lights are misty in the river.
In the darkness the trees are full of starlight.
And all I see is him and me forever and forever.

Lucius. Sometimes just thinking about him made Narcissa want to cry. But she was a Black; Blacks did not cry. Neither did Malfoys. It was her own stupid fancy that caught her up in foolish Muggle fairy tales like love. She had been young, naïve. He had seemed such a regal, beautiful young man, his seniority adding to his charm. She could remember the first time she saw him, as a first year at Hogwarts. He had been a tall, charming fourth year, the young leader of the entire Slytherin tribe. She had fit right in and risen quickly over the other girls in her house. By third year, it was inconcieveable that she would do anything else with her life than marry Lucius Malfoy. She couldn't dream a more perfect ending. On top of that, she was quite sure that she was in love with him.

And I know it's only in my mind
That I'm talking to myself and not to him.
And although I know that he is blind
Still I say there's a way for us.

He didn't love her; it was doubtful whether he had the capacity to love anybody. He admired her beauty--that she had no doubt--but it was rarely manifest. Of course, she followed his example: rarely did she dare give in to idle speculation or sentimental attatchment. Draco was her only exception. She smiled to herself. Draco. Her son. Lucius wouldn't have minded more children, she knew; what sane man could refuse the prospect of another heir? But Narcissa loved her son more than life itself; she couldn't bear another child, for what could he be other than imperfect? And what if it was a girl? Narcissa shuddered at the thought. Lucius may be lost to her, but she still had her son.

I love him, but when the night is over,
He is gone, the river's just a river.
Without him the world around me changes.
The trees are bare and everywhere the streets
Are full of strangers.

When had she first realised the lack of spirit in her husband? Oh, it had taken her years. For a child unused to tenderness and love, rigidity and coldness had seemed in the right. But slowly, slowly, she had discovered what she was missing: the little signs that show affection. The sparkle in his eyes when he spoke of her was never present; rather, when he spoke of wealth, of fortune, of power--then his eyes gained the lover's glow. His manner was always cold and severe, hardly changing between his attitude toward his wife and toward his business partners. It had take Narcissa too long to learn of love--and now it was too late.

I love him but everyday I'm learning
All my life I've only been pretending.
Without me his world will go on turning.
The world is full of happiness that I have never known
I love him, I love him
I love him, but only on my own.

Tonight, though, Lucius was gone, Draco was at school. No one was visiting, and the house-elves cowered in abject terror no matter what she did. No one would ever know that she, Narcissa Malfoy, could indeed be human. Tonight she could put her little-used imagination to work; that power of the brain which, in Narcissa, was rusted and neglected, much like her heart. But still: she could imagine that Lucius loved her. She could imagine that the affection she truly felt for her husband was returned in kind. She knew that it was foolish; she realised that idle speculation was the pasttime of the idiot; but there was still a strange, furtive sort of solace in her imagination. Her life could have been so different, she sometimes mused, so different if her marriage had truly been a partnership between the two of them. She was his, but, even surrounded by wealth and fortune, she, Narcissa Black, was on her own.