Revenge Is Sweet

Narcissa checked her hair in the bathroom mirror for the umpteenth time and smiled. "Perfect."

"Come on, Narcissa!" Bellatrix growled, pacing back and forth. "You've been staring at yourself for the past ten minutes! We'll miss the bloody Quidditch match if you don't hurry up!"

Andromeda leaned against a stall and grinned at her sister. "Why are you in such a hurry, Bella?" she teased. "Hoping to get a victory kiss from the captain?"

Bellatrix's eyes narrowed. "Shut your mouth, Andromeda."

Andromeda gave her a smirk. "Don't be angry just because I'm right." She clasped her hands together and assumed a dramatic pose. "Oh, Rodolphus," she said in a sickeningly sweet voice, "you were so brilliant during the match! I love you soooooo much, my big, strong snuggle-bunny!"

Bellatrix looked murderous.

Andromeda lowered her voice a few octaves. "I love you too, Bellatrix, my darling. Let's run away together tonight!"

Narcissa was clutching her sides, nearly in hysterics from her sister's impressions. "Stop it, Andromeda! You're going to make me mess up my makeup!"

Bellatrix was definitely not laughing, and when Andromeda started making kissing noises, Narcissa had to step in between them so Bellatrix wouldn't pound their youngest sister. "Alright, enough, Andromeda. Leave her alone. Bellatrix can snog whomever she wants, and we should let her get on with it."

With a huff, Bellatrix glared at Andromeda. "Come on, then. I want to get a good seat."

"So you can - "

"Shut up, Andromeda!"

Narcissa frowned and looked at her reflection again. "Shut up, the both of you." She pulled a tube of lipstick from her bag and began to reapply.

"Narcissa, hurry up!" Bellatrix cried. "Why do you need to look perfect for a Quidditch match, anyway?"

"Because, my darling Bellatrix, I'm going to be sitting with Frederick Nott, and I want to look my best."

"Frederick Nott?" Bellatrix sounded exasperated. "But you just broke up with Rabastan this morning! How can you have another date that soon?"

Andromeda looked amazed. "I don't know how you do it, Narcissa, but you make dating into an art."

Narcissa smiled and shrugged her slim shoulders. "That's because it is, darling! Dating is a fine art - boys are the paint, and I am the paintbrush."

"Oh, for the love of Merlin," Bellatrix groaned. "That's the worst analogy I think I've ever heard, Narcissa."

Sticking her tongue out at her sister, Narcissa put her lipstick back into her bag and started towards the door. "The analogy doesn't matter, Bellatrix. It's the application that makes all the difference."

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Lucius doubted he would ever find the Snitch in these conditions.

Oh, the weather was gorgeous - the sun was shining and there wasn't a cloud in the sky - but unfortunately, his thoughts weren't quite as lovely. I can't believe I made that bet. What kind of idiot am I? No good can come of this, Malfoy!

He pulled his broom up another fifty feet in the air and hovered for a moment, searching the sky, but not really seeing. True, I might get to shag Narcissa, but she'll definitely find out about the bet, and then she'll hate me. No, she'll kill me. Murder me in my sleep. Scratch that - she'll murder me in front of a hundred witnesses. There is no way to make this deal work for my benefit. I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't.

He caught a glimpse of a flicker of gold out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned to look, he only saw the sun glinting off of her golden hair. Narcissa. She was sitting with... he squinted... Nott? Really? What does she see in him? Good gods, didn't she just break up with Rabastan this morning? He didn't know whether he should be glad that Rabastan hadn't meant that much to her, or angry that she had moved on to someone who wasn't Lucius himself. I will never understand women.

Thankfully the Ravenclaw Seeker was no competition, because Lucius suddenly looked up and saw the Snitch - right next to that idiot's ear. He made a quick dive and easily captured the tiny golden ball in his fingers, raising it above his head to show his victory. Normally he would have reveled in the triumphant shouts coming from the Slytherin stands, but at that moment, he looked down and saw Narcissa and Frederick Nott entwined in each other's arms. Bile rising in his throat, he zoomed towards the ground, threw the Snitch in the equipment box, and stalked off to the locker room. He hated Nott and his pretty-boy looks. He hated Narcissa for not choosing him. He hated Rodolphus for offering the bet.

But most of all, he hated himself for taking it.

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Narcissa finally detached herself from Frederick and immersed herself in the crowd of ecstatic Slytherins. She could hear him calling after her, but she ignored him. He's like a bug that won't go away. She still couldn't believe what had happened. Lucius had caught the Snitch and she was cheering with the rest of her classmates, her heart racing with the thrill of another Slytherin victory. She had turned to Frederick to give him a quick peck on the cheek - just to celebrate, of course - but he had pulled her into a more intimate embrace, one she wasn't ready for, one that disgusted her.

She hated her reaction to Frederick. What was wrong with her? He was handsome, charming, and rich - everything she wanted. But the moment he'd touched her, her stomach had revolted. What is going on?

Narcissa pushed through the crowd and walked quickly up to the castle and down into the dungeons. She reached the Common Room entrance, the password on the tip of her tongue... and stopped. Everyone would be coming back here to celebrate, and she really just wanted to be alone. Pivoting on her heel, she marched back down the corridor and found refuge in a broom closet. It wasn't exactly an ideal hiding place, but no one would ever think to look for her here.

Taking a seat on an overturned bucket, Narcissa lowered her head into her hands. She heard the excited shouts of her fellow Slytherins as they went into the Common Room, but soon their voices faded away, and Narcissa's last fragment of victory cheer faded with them. What is happening to me? Who have I turned into? Just last week she had been flitting around from one beau to another, happy with her popularity, happy with her life. Liar. Who are you kidding?

Okay, so maybe she wasn't really that happy with her life. But what did she have to complain about? She had a great life. She came from a wealthy family, generations upon generations of pureblood witches and wizards, and that stupid family tapestry to prove it. She had two wonderful sisters whom she adored. She had every boy in Slytherin, and some not in Slytherin, lining up for a chance to take her out. She made decent grades in her classes, and if all else failed, she had her looks.

Yet somehow, in spite of all that, Narcissa Black was miserable. All she wanted, more than anything else in the world, was to find someone who really, truly understood her. Someone who understood that she had a brain underneath her beautiful blonde hair. Someone who understood that she really did have more on her mind than makeup and boys. Someone who wouldn't believe the rumors.

She knew what people said about her. Slut. She's shagged just about every guy in school. She can't stay with the same one for more than two dates. She's such a tramp.

Narcissa had no illusions about where the rumors came from. She'd heard the guys she'd dated talking about her - when they thought she wasn't listening, of course - boasting about how they'd shagged her on the first date. It was disgusting, but she didn't bother to set the stories straight. Why did she care what they said, anyway? Idiots. Every last one of them. Can't handle the fact that I dumped them, and they have to save face in front of their friends.

But the truth was, she did care. A lot. Every time a boy asked her out with that gleam in his eye - the gleam that said, I know you're an easy one - her heart broke. After five years, she thought she'd have become hard to it, but she wasn't. With every cruel word, every harsh glare, every false accusation, she died inside just a little bit more.

She sighed and wiped her damp eyes with the sleeve of her robes. Come on, Narcissa. Pull yourself together. You can't stay in this broom closet forever. You have to -

The door flew open.

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"Narcissa?" Lucius asked in surprise. "What are you doing in here?"

She looked up, her eyes wide. "Lucius! I - well - good gods! You scared me half to death!"

Lucius offered his hand and helped her stand. "Sorry about that. Are you alright?" His heart was racing from the fright she'd given him, but he didn't let on. "You look upset."

She slowly shook her head. "I'm not upset, I was just - er - what are you doing here?" she challenged.

Actually, he'd been trying to hide away in the very same broom closet. It was his usual hideout when he wanted to do some serious thinking, but she'd gotten here first. He tried to think of a good excuse for bursting in on her, but the truth came out instead. "I needed a place to think, and this is where I usually come when I want to be alone."

Narcissa looked embarrassed. "I didn't mean to take over your space - I'm really sorry. I'll go." She tried to push past him, but he caught her arm and she looked up at him in confusion.

"You stay. I'll go."

She shook her head again. "No, I couldn't - you should -" She hesitated for a moment, and then rushed on. "Why don't we both stay?"

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Narcissa had no idea what made her say that, but suddenly Lucius Malfoy was too close for comfort.

Lucius was the one person she would never expect to be crammed into a tiny broom closet with, no matter what the circumstances. But here she was, knee to knee with the one boy she'd always wanted but could never have.

She felt her cheeks heating and was supremely glad for the darkness of the closet. She would be devastated if the great Lucius Malfoy saw her blushing. He was a god, for the love of Merlin. Most popular boy in Slytherin, Seeker, top of his class, absolutely gorgeous. She'd admired him for ages - five years, to be exact - but never once had he looked her way, never once had he even given a clue that he knew she existed.

Until now.

And now what was she supposed to do? Just talk to him? Like he was her friend? Right, Narcissa. Dream on.

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She was awfully quiet.

Lucius knew that she was usually quite talkative, at least with her sisters. He'd seen them interact - he loved watching her smile, and she smiled the most when she was with her family.

But now, here with him, she was silent. What is she thinking?

"So," he began, rather awkwardly, "do you want to tell me why you're in this closet instead of out celebrating with everyone else?"

Her soft laugh tore through his heart. "I should be asking you the same thing. It's your victory, why aren't you out there?"

Lucius sighed. "Too much on my mind, I suppose. I wasn't really in the mood for celebrating."

"Why not? You're the hero today. You should be riding around on their shoulders and having Butterbeer poured on your head."

He wished he could see the sparkle that he knew was in her eyes. "Yes, well, Butterbeer gets sticky, you know," he teased. "And I'm too tall to be carried on their shoulders - they always manage to knock my head on the ceiling."

She laughed again, louder this time. "You're not what I expected, Lucius."

"What do you mean?"

The laughter stopped, and he heard her sigh. "Just that I'm glad we're in here is all."

His heart stuttered. "You are?"

"Yes, I am. Very glad."

Lucius grinned. "I'm glad too, Narcissa. I was hoping that I'd get to talk to you today."

He could almost feel her smiling back at him. "You were? Really?"

"Yes." He sucked in a lungful of air and took a chance. "I've been wanting to talk to you for a long time."

"So why didn't you?"

Her question surprised him into telling the truth. "Because I was afraid of you."

She laughed out loud at that. "You? Afraid of me? I don't believe it. Why would you be afraid of me?"

Lucius swallowed around the lump in his throat. "I was afraid you wouldn't want to have anything to do with me."

Narcissa's laugh suddenly turned hard, and he heard a trace of bitterness in her voice when she spoke. "Me? The Slytherin Slut? Not want to have anything to do with a handsome guy? Who are you kidding, Lucius?"

He was taken aback by the pain he heard in her seemingly joking words. "I wasn't kidding, Narcissa. Honestly. And just for the record, I don't believe what they say about you. I don't believe that you're a tramp, or whatever other horrible words they use to malign your character."

She was silent.

"Narcissa?" He slowly reached out and found her hand, wrapping her slender fingers in his. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean - "

"You don't believe them?" Her voiced was choked with tears, and he squeezed her hand tighter. "You don't believe what the other boys say?"

"Of course not. I know those morons just talk big to cover up for the fact that they're complete losers."

She took in a shuddering breath. "Thank you, Lucius," she whispered. "That means a lot to me."

"Anytime," he reassured her, pressing her fingers to his lips. "Anytime."