The Course of Empire

Part One: The Savage State

"Betcha can't catch me, Sirius!" laughs Regulus, running underneath sun-dappled trees. The scene was memory bright and sunny green, and five children played gaily, for once throwing aside the politics of childhood and forsaking issues of age and gender to have one uninterrupted afternoon of childhood innocence.

Sirius runs at his brother, moving as if he were underwater as Andromeda runs up, grabbing his arm and pulling him in the opposite direction. Bellatrix catches up with Regulus, and pulls him to the ground, laughing. Narcissa does not join the fray, instead only smiles prettily as she watches her family battle playfully.

Parents sit by, talking politely and sometimes teasing and torturing one another in the million tiny ways family members devise over a lifetime. Years-past mistakes are brought up, flaws discussed and choices mocked, but all with the undercurrent of love and loyalty that only family can muster.

Glasses filled with lemonade were handed out. The children delightfully compare the way the charmed ice fish swim and splash around, forgoing the trained solemnity and elegance that their parents have ingrained into them in favor of pure childish delight. Their parents do not fret over grass tangled in long locks of hair or scrapes marring perfect skin. This a day built for memory.

***

Narcissa Black knew herself to be an ice-wrought beauty in a family of exotic, passionate witches and wizards. From the time she was very young, she knew that she was slightly different from her sisters, that she had an entirely different set of motivations and aspirations.

Bellatrix wanted to change the world with one fell swoop. Andromeda wanted to change their family with one decisive move. Narcissa wanted to marry into another powerful family, and use the combined influence of the Blacks and whomever she married to try to make society into the place she wanted to raise her children.

She realized her goal was a bit lofty for a teenaged witch with an average number of OWLs and who would, as her professors insisted, probably only earn a passable number of NEWTs. But she had seen her family's power, had talked to the old portraits and knew that what she wanted was not impossible, but easily within her grasp.

For now, though, she settled for enjoying the dinner parties and gatherings of the elite, while doing her best to aid the war that had been brewing for years.

Narcissa knew there would be fortunes to be made and careers entrenched in the outcome of the war, good or bad, and wanted to make her place within society. Long gone were the carefree days of her childhood - she was now nearly an adult witch, coming of age in a time of war and dissension.

Bellatrix was throwing herself headlong into the fray. Narcissa knew she would - as a child Bellatrix had always been the one who decided that they needed to explore or simply do something different and exciting every passing day. Her sister was as passionate as the other Blacks, loud and boisterous about her feelings without a care about anyone else's or what damage her actions might wreak.

Once, Narcissa had watched Bellatrix drop a priceless antique vase from the top landing of Grimmauld Place, watching with delight as the vase, which had survived centuries, plummeted through the air and smashed into dust at the bottom. Their aunt charged out of the sitting room, their mother closely at her heels, demanding to know why Bellatrix had done such a thing.

Her sister, smiling from her lofty perch well above their heads, had replied that she simply had wanted to see what the vase would do, and would Mother kindly repair the vase so she could try again from the next level down?

Narcissa had gasped, watching as her aunt started to scream angrily at Bellatrix, as her mother calmly repaired the vase, as Andromeda and Sirius appeared on a landing wondering what was going on. Her mother levitated the vase back up to Bellatrix, and said, "Only once more, dear."

"Why aren't you punishing the girl?" her aunt demanded.

"Why would I punish a child for having natural curiosity?" her mother replied.

The next time Bellatrix dropped the vase, it hit Regulus in the head, knocking him out cold.

When Regulus was revived, he insisted that Bellatrix had done it on purpose, and the screaming match that ensued had lead to her mother gathering together their things and marching Bellatrix, Andromeda and Narcissa home, muttering about her hotheaded sister-in-law.

Andromeda had never been any better. Narcissa wondered, sometimes, why the penchant for drama and strife had passed her by. Andromeda always spent more time with Sirius than anyone thought entirely proper, considering Sirius had had the audacity to be sorted into Gryffindor, of all houses, no doubt just to spite his parents. Anyone with that lack of foresight or understanding of the repercussions of abandoning family principles as Sirius had would amount to nothing but trouble. Narcissa was certain of such.

Andromeda herself had an alarming tendency to speak civilly to Muggleborns.

Narcissa had stumbled across her chatting amicably to a Muggleborn on more than one occasion, and when she'd call her sister out on it, Andromeda would give her a dreadfully self-important and righteous look before informing Narcissa that people were people, no matter what their circumstance of birth.

Narcissa doubted this theory, as she'd seen quite a number of these supposed people behaving like animals and heathens. Nonetheless, Andromeda's attitude worried her. She didn't act like a proper Black daughter in the least, and above all Narcissa didn't want to lose a sister because of something that could be controlled. Family was too important for that.

***

Narcissa was eating her second meal with Lucius Malfoy when the owl came.

The first date she had with Lucius had gone spectacularly. He had been gallant and romantic while she had played the role of the adoring girl beautifully. They both knew they were playing roles, and had used that as a basis of acting silly in public without anyone being any the wiser.

Blacks and Malfoys were to be dignified, and it was a thrilling, forbidden thrill to say outrageous things like, "Of course I shan't think of any other gentleman but you, Mr. Malfoy," and "I shall dream of this evening for the rest of my life if you would do me the honor of kissing me with those rose petal lips." It was a peculiar sort of joke for sharp-tongued snakes raised in environments woven with double talk and hidden meanings, but they enjoyed it full-heartedly.

This date was not as silly as the first, and the conversation had turned to deeper topics when the owl fluttered up to the table and extended a leg towards Narcissa.

She untied the roll of parchment, gave the owl a bit of her roll, and watched it fly away, wondering why her mother's handwriting looked so distressed.

"Ignore me," Lucius said in the tone of one used to urgent missives from home. Narcissa smiled thinly, and opened the parchment with some trepidation.

She couldn't quite stop the gasp that escaped her when she digested what the note said.

"Are you okay?" Lucius asked.

"I'm fine," she said shortly. It couldn't be! Andromeda couldn't have done something so terrible. There had to be some sort of mistake.

"Is it personal?" he asked.

Narcissa nodded mutely, but then, unable to contain such news, the words burst from her lips. "My sister - Andromeda, you probably have met her - left home."

"Left?"

"She's gone blood traitor," Narcissa said numbly. Images of Andromeda - allowing Narcissa to try on her first set of high heels when Narcissa was a child; laughing over the flavor of Bertie Bott's Bellatrix had stuck in Andromeda's mouth while she bravely kept her eyes shut; pulling each other's hair and screaming over something inconsequential - filled her mind, and she couldn't quite digest what had happened. She had owled her sister not two days ago, and nothing had been amiss.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Lucius said after a pause. Narcissa remembered that he had no siblings, and couldn't understand what a sister meant to someone. She'd loved Andromeda, and hated her, and loved and hated her still, but the feelings of betrayal that she now felt were poisoning the happy memories they had together.

"I appreciate that," she replied. She pursed her lips then sighed. "I'm sorry this came at such an inconvenient time. Now our date is ruined."

"That's fine. There'll be plenty more dinners," Lucius replied casually.

"Oh, really," she said primly. "When, exactly, did I agree to that?"

They laughed together, even though Narcissa wanted nothing more than to cry.

***

"Keeping family traditions is a way of ensuring immortality."

It was an odd sort of anonymous immortality, but nonetheless it was a way of cheating death through remembrance. Narcissa understood this, she knew Bellatrix understood this, yet her father insisted on repeating it.

Narcissa, for the first time in her life, felt awkward in her own home. She sat stiffly in her chair, staring at her plate with fierce concentration. Across the table, Bellatrix was frowning, and looking back and forth between their parents, who were silently eating.

"Well?" Bellatrix asked. "What are we doing about Andromeda?"

"Doing?" their mother asked, voice raising. "I think she did enough."

"Aren't you going to find her, stop her from disgracing our family further?" Bellatrix asked. "People are talking, Mother."

"There is nothing to be done," their father said. "Just remember how we achieve immortality."

"Maybe if you weren't such goddamn pacifists, Andromeda would have learned what was right and wrong," Bellatrix snapped.

Narcissa dropped her fork.

"How dare you raise your voice to me," their father growled. "Leave my sight."

"Like hell I will," Bellatrix replied. Her eyes were bright and alive, and Narcissa wondered if Bellatrix had fantasized about this moment.

"Bellatrix, please control yourself," their father said coolly. "Rash words only cause trouble."

"Because this family isn't in trouble already," Bellatrix snapped. "Am I the only true Black anymore? We're supposed to be strong! We helped build up the wizarding world from the ruins of the Dark Ages! Our pockets, our minds are what created this world, and now you're just letting Andromeda become one of them."

"I rather think I know my family history as well as my daughter," their father said stiffly. He set down his goblet. "And I know that we have retained our place in society by restraining ourselves from rash acts."

"What is rash about keeping a Black from betraying their principles?" Bellatrix demanded. "Andromeda obviously doesn't know what she's doing. Why didn't you stop her from a rash act?"

"Don't you think we tried?" This time, their mother spoke. "We raised her the same way we raised you, Bellatrix. We discouraged this sort of behavior for her, we gave her everything she needed, wanted or desired, but still she betrayed us. Believe me, daughter - you do not understand how we feel about this."

"Then why aren't you doing anything?" Bellatrix was as petulant as she had been as a child, demanding sweets or toys.

"What would you have us do?"

A long, uncomfortable pause.

"Anything. Everything." Bellatrix looked sad. "Why can't we be a proper family again?"

***

The room was aglow with flickering red light.

Lucius had chosen an out-of-the way storage room in the cellar of Malfoy Manor, citing soundproofing and wards to hide Dark Magic as the reason for it. Narcissa had agreed with his logic, and had ignored the musty smell and clots of dust in the air.

"Are you sure this is safe?" she asked in a whisper, afraid of speaking aloud in the terse atmosphere.

"Is anything safe?" Lucius responded, carefully adding belladonna to the cauldron in the center of the circle of red candles.

"Some things are," Narcissa replied, "and I don't think this particular activity is on that short list."

Theoretically, a Dark Arts ritual shouldn't terrify her. She was a Black, and had been raised in halls that had seen darker magic than this. Only, she had never been involved in a ritual herself, as her mother had deemed it unsuitable for ladies as well as too dangerous for a child. Narcissa decided she could be unladylike for this occasion, and she knew that she was no child.

The magic they were attempting wasn't the most powerful of Dark Arts, but it was darker than anything either Lucius or Narcissa had ever attempted in Hogwarts lavatories or their own bedrooms with robes stuffed under the door jam and fingers crossed that they wouldn't lose a limb.

"Don't worry, Narcissa," Lucius said, glancing up at her over his shoulder. The red light flickered on his pale face, making him look positively devilish. "I wouldn't let anything happen to you."

They had decided that Lucius would make the potion, while Narcissa would, at the proper time, do the incantation. They were playing to their respective strengths - potions and charms - but Narcissa couldn't help but feel a pang of something knowing that Lucius had taken the more dangerous task for himself.

"It's nearly done," Lucius whispered, stirring the potion counterclockwise. "Just a few more moments..."

Narcissa prepared to say the incantation, wand held firmly in her hand.

The exact color of the potion was hard to discern in the hellishly lit room, but suddenly it bubbled, and began to vaporize. The steam hovered above the cauldron, and Narcissa found Latinate words spilling from her lips as she flicked her wand three times, then swished it at the precise degree dictated in the moldering book they were working from.

The vapor hovered, then, quick as a flash, shot out through the room, hitting her and Lucius directly. She gasped, feeling the cool, icy touch of dark magic leak into her core, and she dropped to her knees.

Lucius looked similarly disarrayed, panting with his eyes wide. The temperature of the room dropped until she could see her breath hovering in the air like a soul. The candles flickered, died, and in the silence that enveloped the room she could hear nothing.

Long seconds passed, then she quietly re-ignited the candles, her voice like a cannon in the silence. She felt utterly exhilarated, and longed to share what she was feeling with Lucius. It felt as though she were going to burst, sitting there still as a corpse while such strong, vibrant urges rattled her very being.

She crawled towards Lucius, not trusting her knees, while he looked around the room with bright, unfocused eyes. When their mouths met in a needy kiss, Narcissa felt as though every kiss they had shared before this were only teasers, preparing her for the real thing.

The air was still frigid, and Lucius moved his hands up and down her arms over her sleeves, and the nearness of his skin made her lean closer, closer until their bodies were touching. Dark magic was cloying in the air, and she breathed it in desperately as she separated from Lucius' kiss.

When she fell back into Lucius' embrace, she knew that what she needed - what the magic was calling for - was contact. She shoved his robes off his shoulders as he pulled hers over her head, loosening bits of hair from her practical bun, knocking it askance. Her newly exposed skin prickled in the freezing air.

In an awkward rush they removed the remaining barriers between them, mindful enough to keep the candles lit and their clothes out of the potion. When their chalk-white skin met under the wicked red illumination, all awkwardness or thoughts of practical matters escaped them completely.

Narcissa found herself trapped under Lucius' body, and reveled in every silken touch between them. The Dark magic in the air seemed to twine its way around their bodies, sliding into every crevice and touching every bit of skin at once. When magically-charged skin met magically-charged skin, Narcissa fancied she could see sparks to match the sensation that filled her.

She writhed under Lucius, feeling every bit the snake she had been raised as the cold floor pressed sharply into her chilled back, pushing herself up against Lucius's impossible warmth. Her moan as he pushed into her echoed through the thick air in sharp contrast to the animalistic sounds they had been producing.

The magic seemed to solidify in the air, heady and persuasive as the pace of their lovemaking increased. With every gasp, Narcissa pulled more of the twining, smoke-filled air into herself, making every touch more sensuous than anything she'd ever felt, building up within herself until it seemed impossible she could feel anything more without simply ceasing to be. She felt Lucius stiffen against her, and then, with back arched and fingers digging into his back, she climaxed.

Time seemed frozen as they caught their breath, still entwined in their embrace. The smoke and magic in the air seemed to dissipate, making breathing and thinking possible. They slowly slid away from each other, boneless as snakes slithering across water.

As she lay panting and sweaty on the cold, dirty floor, a thought occurred to her. "Did the spell work?"

Lucius laughed, tangling his fingers into her long hair. "It certainly did something."

"Was that what it was meant to do?" Narcissa asked. "Because there are easier ways of wooing a lady, you know."

"I wouldn't call that wooing, dearest," Lucius said.

"You know what I mean," she said. "You only said before that this was important for our relationship - what did it do?"

"It was a sort of protection spell," Lucius admitted. "It bound us together."

"Then why is it dark?" Narcissa asked.

Lucius laughed and motioned around the room and at them before resting a hand on her side. "Can you really see this being taught to schoolchildren?"

"I'm sure professors could suck the life out of something like that," Narcissa replied primly. "What sort of binding did it do?"

"Basically," Lucius said, "it grants a certain degree of protection over our union."

"But why all that trouble simply for protection over just a few minutes?" Narcissa asked. She'd known from her own readings that it had been a protection spell, and therefore hadn't worried too greatly about adverse effects for herself, but the reason why was still a mystery for her.

Lucius laughed, low and masculine in a way that sent shivers down Narcissa's spine. "Not that union, Narcissa." He sat up, and reached into the cauldron before she could stop him. He pulled out something small and sparkly, which he slid on her finger as he whispered, "This one. If you'll have me, of course."

Narcissa stared at the ring, and said, "Yes, I'll have you," before throwing herself into his arms again.

***

Lucius escorted her to Bellatrix's wedding, looking noble and handsome in richly textured black robes. Narcissa loved the feel of his robes against her hands or cheek, and she knew Lucius wore them for that very reason.

Bellatrix had a massive gala thrown to celebrate her nuptials. Narcissa couldn't help but feel it was a farewell party, leaving her alone as the sole Black daughter as Bellatrix joined the Lestrange family. Narcissa's own wedding was planned for the following year, and she looked forward to it with the same sort of fervent longing that all girls felt when they thought of their weddings. She couldn't quite get used to the fact that after that, her name would no longer be Narcissa Black, but Narcissa Malfoy.

Narcissa had helped her sister dress for her wedding, and had been slightly shocked when she'd spied the mark marring Bellatrix's arm.

"You haven't done anything stupid, have you?" she'd asked, staring pointedly at the mark.

"Oh, damn," Bellatrix had said, staring accusingly at the mark. "That will look terrible with these robes." She cast a glamour spell, frowning at her arm as the mark faded into creamy white skin. She smiled at Narcissa, and picked at a stray strand of hair. "Fix this for me, will you? You've always been better at hair charms."

Now, Narcissa was wondering how far Bellatrix had taken her loyalty. She knew that Lucius had joined the ranks of Lord Voldemort's followers, and somehow she knew that he would be fine. Lucius was strong and influential, and would not fall too deeply into the temptation of the Dark Arts to lose sight of what was important. Bellatrix was not nearly as callous and cold as Lucius, and Narcissa feared that she would become too firmly entrenched in the way of the Death Eaters to keep herself out of trouble.

Narcissa herself did not necessarily disapprove of the Dark Arts, or the other dark things the Death Eaters did in the midnight hours, but knew that the rest of the world did. Lucius would keep his hands clean enough to escape negative attention, but Bellatrix had always been impetuous and passionate. She was fully a Black, and Narcissa could not help but think that nothing good would come of Bellatrix devoting herself fully to the Dark Lord.

"Narcissa, would you like to dance?" She glanced over to see Regulus standing tall and handsome in his new dress robes.

"Of course I would," Narcissa replied, offering her hand.

As they twirled around the dance floor, Narcissa couldn't help but notice the expression of worry on Regulus's features. "What's wrong?" she gently asked.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Regulus asked in a rush, schooling his features so that he appeared to the rest of the ballroom to be asking her something trivial.

"I've taken many dancing lessons," Narcissa replied glibly, knowing perfectly well she was evading the question.

Regulus gave her a familiar look - she'd seen it on Bellatrix, Andromeda's and her own face before - and said, "You know what I mean."

"I love Lucius," Narcissa replied. "And I can handle him."

"Can you, or do you just think you can?" His stare was penetrating, and Narcissa felt vaguely uncomfortable with her cousin for the first time in her life.

"What are you getting at, Regulus?" Narcissa demanded, smiling. She refused to cause a scene at her sister's wedding.

"He's a dangerous man, Narcissa. I don't want to see you get hurt." Regulus was dead serious.

"Shouldn't you be giving this lecture to Bellatrix?"

"She's not like you, Narcissa."

"Are you saying I'm too weak to be Lucius' wife?" Narcissa asked, indignant. "Because I assure you, Regulus Black, I am hardly weak. Lucius might be dangerous to other people, but not to me. Never to me."

"You can't be positive of that," Regulus said. His hand gripped hers tight.

"I can," Narcissa said confidently. "Remember, Regulus, I'm as much a Black as you are. I can handle myself. You just worry about yourself."

The song ended, and Regulus abruptly left her standing on the dance floor.

"May I have this dance?" she turned to find Rabastan Lestrange smiling at her, and she accepted his sun darkened hand in her pale one as a new song began. She met Lucius's eyes over Rabastan's shoulder, and smiled at him. He was standing between Macnair, Crabbe and Goyle, looking impossibly pale and slender against their bulky forms, and his responding smile gave her a pleasant shiver deep inside.

Bellatrix approached, hand in hand with Rodolphus, while the group laughed at some comment Lucius made to the newlyweds.

Narcissa allowed her body to move freely to the music, and whirled away.