Devotion

* * *

Narcissa Stirling had been a meek and eager-to-please nineteen-year-old when she first caught Lucius Malfoy´s eye. He was twenty-four and already working for the Ministry, a handsome and powerful wizard. Her friends had been jealous and called her lucky for catching him. But the truth was... she had done nothing. She was far too frightened to approach him; the more so for the fact that the whole of wizarding Britain knew his family was looking to marry him off. She knew she would hardly be considered appropriate marriage material for the prestigious Malfoy family, so to avoid heartache, she shrank from him, and watched from afar as one witch after another -all beautiful and rich- threw themselves at him. He didn´t seem to care. She never spoke to him, and was certain he knew nothing of her existence until the Ministry threw a Yule party, to which all employees were invited. She had gotten a job in the records office, keeping files straight and papers orderly, just to be relatively near him.

She was sitting at the bar, dejectedly nursing what was still her first drink, despite the hour being well past midnight, when Lucius Malfoy sat down next to her.

"I think you´re the only woman here who hasn´t asked me to dance. Why?" His grey-eyed gaze was demanding.

"I wouldn´t presume..." she blushed furiously and looked down at her drink.

He put two strong fingers under her chin and pulled her face up to look at his. "Are you afraid of me, Miss Stirling?"

He knows my name. She nearly swooned. His stare was unrelenting, and she quailed inside at the intensity of it. But she straightened her back and shook her head resolutely. His lips curled into a devilish smile. She was certain she hadn´t fooled him.

She was still captivated by the passion that spilled out of his every pore as he took her hand and led her to the very center of the dance floor. When she realized all the people looking at her, she blushed once again and tried to duck her head and pull away from Lucius, but his grip on her wrist was unbreakable.

"No need to feel bashful, my dear, you´re dancing with me. You can dance, can´t you?" She looked up at him and he was still smiling, but it made her shiver to realize that it didn´t touch his eyes. "Don´t make me regret this," he whispered so only she could hear, and his fingers tightened around her wrist.

She whimpered slightly and nodded, knowing this was the only chance she´d ever have to be this close to him. The music began and she followed his steps perfectly, feeling every nuance of his fingers against her back, telling her which way to go. She fancied she saw a smile of real pleasure cross his face, as he realized that she would not cause him embarrassment after all. Her heart swelled with pride, knowing that she had done something to make him happy. Maybe he´ll remember me, somehow, when he´s married and has children, he´ll think of the wonderful dancer he met at a company party. The thought made her even lighter on her feet, and he danced with her through the next three songs, hardly pausing to change rhythms. Everyone had stopped to watch the spectacle, but she didn´t care. All she knew was Lucius´ smile and the feel of his strong arm around her. Tongues were already wagging in the corners where the old spinster witches sat.

"Aren´t they beautiful together?"

"She´s rather plain, to me, not at all the kind of witch he´s usually seen with,"

"Wonder what his family will think?"

"She must be a pureblood, or he wouldn´t even be touching her."

"No problems with his family, then, that´s all they care about,"

By the time they stopped dancing, they were both flushed and short of air, though Lucius tried to hide it. "Walk with me," he said as he began guiding her to the terrace doors. Unsure whether this was a request or a command, Narcissa just nodded and obeyed. They walked out the doors and into the garden, where the cool night air was a welcome relief for her burning lungs. Lucius didn´t speak, and she wondered if he was waiting for her to say something.

"Thank you for the dances," she managed in a whisper.

"It was my pleasure," he replied, then suddenly pulled her behind a tree and into a kiss so passionate, she thought her legs had turned to jelly.

Oh, gods, he´s kissing me. Lucius Malfoy is kissing me. A moan escaped unbidden as she raised her hands to run her fingers through his silky blonde hair, as she had imagined so many times before. One of his hands was on her waist, pulling her against him, and the other was behind her neck, so she couldn´t pull her head away, even if she had wanted to.

She didn´t know how long they stood there, oblivious in their passion. All she knew was that it felt like eternity, drinking in the feel of him, his arms around her, her hands in his hair, the smell of his cologne, which blended so nicely with the taste of bourbon still on his tongue.

Is he only doing this because he´s drunk? she wondered. Gods, I don´t care. If he never remembers this, at least I will.

The eternity of their kiss turned into an all-too short moment when Lucius finally released her neck and pulled his lips away from hers. She kept her eyes closed for a little longer, afraid that when she opened them, it would all be a dream. Then she felt soft kisses on her eyelids and resolved to open them. The sight that met her was beyond her wildest dreams. There was Lucius Malfoy, in her arms and she in his, his face flushed and his eyes burning with passion. Part of her shrank from them, for it felt like he meant to devour her. He must have felt it in the tensing of her muscles, as he recovered himself and the fire dimmed instantly, though she could still see him fighting for control over it.

"Don´t worry," he leaned forward to breathe into her ear, "I´ll only bite nicely."

"Gods," she moaned as she felt his teeth grazing her neck. Then her traitorous knees finally did give way, but before she could hit the ground, Lucius had scooped her up and was carrying her deeper into the garden.

He laid her down among violets, then took out his wand and walked in a circle around the area. When he returned to her, he nimbly flicked his wand and muttered, "Obfusco." The perimeter he had walked turned into the bottom edge of a dome, which glittered and sparkled for a split second, and then the night returned to normal. He returned his wand to his robes as he faced her again. "No one will see us here," he said softly. Or so she thought at first, for as she looked at him, he had all the apparent softness of a great hunting cat, about to strike. Surely he doesn´t intend...

Her questions were answered as he slipped his robe from his shoulders. Gods, I must be dreaming. This is too good. She raised herself onto uncertain legs and walked over to him, and raised trembling hands to the top button of his shirt. He smirked in pleasant surprise and allowed her to undress him, then returned the favor. When their work was done, they stood for long moments, just looking at each other.

Lucius Malfoy was everything underneath his clothes that she had dreamed he would be, with the slight addition of silky platinum hair gracing the arch of his chest. She lightly ran her fingernails through it; he closed his eyes and smiled. The feel of his heart beating beneath her hand sent thrills throughout her body, and she couldn´t help but gasp.

His eyes flew open again and, mistaking the goose bumps rising on her arms, said, "You´re cold." She tried to protest, but he was already reaching into his pile of clothes for his wand. He pointed it at a low bush within their hidden area. "Confinus inflammare," and the bush popped into flame that miraculously didn´t spread to anything else.

Upon seeing her concerned look, he began walking her back to the bed of violets. "If anyone tries looking for us here, their eyes will simply slip around this place, like trying to look past a mirror. They won´t be able to see even the fire."

Narcissa desperately hoped so, for what happened next was something that should not be seen by any but those involved.

* * *

She awoke in the oddest place: a bed, and not hers. As she sat up, a crumpled violet fell out of her tangled hair. She was wearing only her slip and underthings, the robes she had been wearing the night before lay across the foot of the bed next to a silky white wrap. The bed was an ornate canopy creation, with silk sheets, an embroidered comforter, and lace curtains. She looked around the rest of the room, and found herself in what she thought must be a palace. The room held a vanity edged in gilt whose chair had a dainty lavender velvet cushion, a beautifully polished writing desk whose surface was empty except for a very small stack of fresh, white papers, and a wardrobe that took up an entire wall. She slid out of the bed and her feet landed in the deepest carpet she had ever felt. It was soft and white, and reminded her of Lucius´ hair. Lucius... The events of the previous night came rushing back to her, and she crumpled back onto the bed with a dull ache in a very particular place that told her it had not all been a dream.

She lay on the bed for a few moments, willing the pain to stop or lessen. Lucius, her mind spoke over and over again, each time with a sense of wonder. Good gods, I´ve had him. This must be his house. He must have brought me here after... her cheeks burned and she couldn´t help but giggle. She pulled on the wrap at the foot of the bed, and slipped out the door to find Lucius. To find my lover.

Narcissa walked down the length of the hallway, nothing in the house making any kind of sound, until she neared the very last door, through which she could hear voices. Knowing one of them must be Lucius, she smiled and crept closer to the door, but what she heard made her smile fall.

"Blood, I tell you, blood on me. It was disgusting. I had no idea she was..." Lucius´ voice, and he sounded very frustrated.

"What do you intend to do with her, sir?" came a voice she didn´t know, and one that didn´t sound entirely human.

"I don´t know," Lucius answered. "Oh, damn Fudge and his infernal bourbon!!" The sound of something glass being thrown against the wall met Narcissa´s ears.

"I daresay, sir, unless you are planning on marrying this girl, she had better not be here when your parents arrive," the odd voice said.

"But how can I get rid of her? If she hadn´t been... she´d be able to call it a good roll in the hay and leave it at that. But she´ll cling..." Determined footsteps began pacing.

"A memory charm then, sir?"

"Yes. Yes, I´ll do that." Narcissa heard a drawer opening and then the footsteps turned toward the door. She tried to retreat but there was nowhere she could go fast enough, and Lucius stepped through the doorway to find her huddled on the floor, clinging to the wainscoting. "It´s for your own good, my dear," he said, shaking his head; "I´d make a terrible husband." He flicked his wand and commanded, "Obliviate!" and Narcissa braced herself for the robbery of her memories.

But a slight sparkle from the tip of Lucius´ wand was all that happened. He stepped closer and tried again, still with the same result. The thought was inconceivable to both of them. How could Lucius Malfoy, powerful wizard that he was, fail something as simple as a memory charm? Narcissa stared at him as he stared at his wand in disbelief, when the owner of the disembodied voice came out of the study. It was a house ghost, the butler probably, given his clothes.

"It would appear, sir, that the lady has her own very good reason for keeping her memory of your rendezvous last night," the ghost said with a smirk.

"What nonsense are you talking, Hilary?" Lucius asked, his anger barely contained.

"Her body will not allow you to remove her memories, as it is already carrying some other proof of what happened."

"Proof? What proof?" Lucius rounded on Narcissa, as if she had deliberately done something to foil him. Her mind reeling with the ghost´s words, only one answer came to mind. Her hands absently strayed to her belly. Lucius´ eyes followed her movement, and he stared at her, as if the power of his will alone could make it not be true. He narrowed his eyes. "Get rid of it, now!" he demanded, leveling his wand at Narcissa. She crawled backwards as best she could, still trying to protect her abdomen. Lucius´ child. I´m carrying Lucius´ child. Gods, you´re playing a cruel trick on me. I wanted this, but not all at once, not like this. He´s so angry about it...

Lucius was indeed angry. His wand tip remained fixed on her as he seemed to ruffle through mental files, looking for a spell to do what he wanted.

"Sir," the ghost intervened, "perhaps you are being too hasty. It would seem fate has conspired to grant you what you want."

"What I want?" Lucius exploded and turned back to the ghost. Narcissa let out a deep breath, thankful that he was no longer focused on her. "I don´t want any mousy little witch from an unknown family walking around carrying my bastard child!"

"Then see that it is not a bastard, sir," Hilary replied simply.

"What?! You´re not actually suggesting that I marry this trollop, just because she got herself pregnant?"

"It does require two, sir," the ghost said calmly.

"Don´t you get smart with me." Lucius brandished his wand at the butler, though they both knew it would do no harm.

"What difference does it make whom you marry, sir?" Hilary asked. "Would you truly love her, whoever she was? Take the chance you are being given. Appease your family, ensure your inheritance, remove yourself from public scrutiny and the machinations of old wives and their idiotic daughters."

"Too clever by half, Hilary," Lucius replied, shaking his head. "To think that I, of all people, should have to settle, so..." and he glared at the woman still cringing on his floor.

Narcissa suddenly had a deep longing to be anywhere other than Lucius Malfoy´s house. This was nothing like anything she had imagined it would be, and she didn´t like at all the way it was going. The charming dancer from the night before, the paragon of manliness and power she had loved from afar, had disappeared, the simmering passion he always seemed to contain now having boiled over into anger. It was at that moment that Narcissa knew she would spend the rest of her life living in fear of Lucius Malfoy, and should harbor no hopes for kind words from him.

* * *

Their wedding was announced and planned in a whirlwind of activity that Narcissa was hard-pressed to remember in years afterward. She vaguely remembered dinners with his parents, socialite parties she had always dreamed of attending, dress fittings, guest lists, and how her friends had fawned over her. What she did remember clearly was Lucius´ unwillingness to participate in practically any of it. He would politely bow out of discussions when other people were present, but when Narcissa tried to speak to him alone, he would flatly refuse.

Narcissa´s memory of their wedding day, though, was poignantly sharp. The ceremony was held in a grove on the grounds of Malfoy Manor and was everything a girl could have wished for her wedding. Everything was heartbreakingly beautiful and perfect, at least to the guests. The bride herself wanted nothing more than to run away and call it all a bad dream. She whispered her vows, seeming to everyone else that she was simply too overcome with emotion to speak out loud. Lucius, on the other hand, pronounced his vows to her with all the fullness of his rich and silky voice, and Narcissa would have been completely charmed, like every other woman there, had she not been keenly aware of each and every word he spoke, as well as the ones he did not.

Lucius and Narcissa had written their own vows, and Lucius had played a surprisingly large part in the wording of the ceremony itself. If anyone had cared to notice, it was probably the only wedding they would ever witness that was decidedly missing any reference to `love.´ Lucius´ vows, though promising to perform the husbandly duties of honoring and providing for his wife, struck Narcissa like a slap to her face. He´s not even going to pretend to love me. He´s making sure he doesn´t have to. Lucius Malfoy considered it a matter of his gentleman´s honor that he be a man of his word, and so he chose his words carefully whenever he spoke. His wedding was no exception; he wanted to make sure that he would not have to do anything as ridiculous as `loving´ his wife.

And he never has...

* * *

Narcissa closed the wedding album and placed it back onto the shelf, just another unmarked leather tome among so many. She looked around the library, smaller than one would expect in so large a house. It wouldn´t be, Narcissa thought, if Lucius would deign to mix his personal books with the rest of ours. But Narcissa knew that most of the books in Lucius´ study were not truly appropriate for public display, especially as he frequently had coworkers from the Ministry over for dinner. If they only knew what was beneath their feet as they sat at our table... she mused. The secret compartment in the dining room floor was Lucius´ favorite spot for storing his most unsavory possessions, and he reveled in the irony of it.

It bothered Narcissa to have such things in her home, and she would have gone looking for them and had them destroyed, had she not known that Lucius would certainly notice their absence. Why he needed or wanted to own such arcane and dangerous items was something Narcissa was careful never to think about.

The library door opened and through it came the sound of small pattering feet. Narcissa turned around and saw one of the house elves carrying a silver tray with an envelope on it.

"This just came for you, ma'am," the elf said as he held up the tray and blinked at her with large, watery green eyes.

"Thank you, Dobby," Narcissa replied as she took the envelope. The elf nodded and then quickly left the room. Narcissa shook her head. Letters to Malfoy Manor were delivered warily, the house elves always fearing the worst: that their contents would prove the least bit displeasing to the reader. She´d never had a chance to prove to the elves that she wasn´t like Lucius, who thought nothing of punishing any bearer of bad news.

The envelope was addressed in familiar handwriting, and Narcissa smiled as she opened it.

Cissa,

I´m in London this week on business. Goodness, little Draco must be twelve by now, and going to Hogwarts. You´re probably going crazy in that big empty house. Come have lunch with me in the Leaky Cauldron. It´s been ages since we talked and I want to know everything I´ve missed.

See you soon,

Rinn

`Ages´ didn´t hardly seem long enough to describe how long it had been since Narcissa had seen Erinn Whateley. They had known each other long before they attended Hogwarts, and remained friends throughout their school years, even though Erinn had been sorted into Gryffindor. Narcissa had watched, heartbroken, from the Ravenclaw table as her friend and the other Gryffindor first-years were strewn with red and gold streamers and confetti. House alignments proved not too difficult to overcome, though, and they sat together whenever they had double classes. Erinn had been her maid of honor and had held her hand throughout her labor with Draco, as Lucius had refused to. Much to Narcissa´s dismay, Erinn had left Britain shortly after Draco´s birth, a member of the office staff for the British liaison to the Italian Ministry of Magic. Narcissa had not seen her since, and their letters became fewer and farther between as the years rolled by.

Still smiling, Narcissa made her way down to the kitchen, to inform Hilary and the cook that she would be going out for lunch. She ran back up the stairs to her room and quickly dressed in her favorite burgundy robes. The sleeves belled out from her elbows, and the front laced from her waist up to just below her bustline. She walked to her mirror and turned from side to side to study her reflection. Twelve years, she thought. Have I changed? She rearranged the folds of her robes over her belly. Rinn was always the thin one. Thirty-five was a long way from twenty-three. Narcissa wondered how much Erinn herself had changed. With a girlish grin, she pulled out her wand, took a deep breath, and Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron. She appeared beside the bar with a pop hardly heard above the chattering of the clientele.

"Why, hello, Mrs. Malfoy." Tom, the innkeeper, leaned over the bar to greet his new arrival.

"Good day, Tom," she replied. "Is Erinn Whateley lodging here?"

Tom pointed at a table with the dishtowel he held in one hand. "Looks like she was expecting you, too." Narcissa turned to find a lanky brunette witch drumming her fingers on the table. She smiled as she hadn´t in many years and started walking toward the table, but didn´t get farther than three steps before she heard a shriek from her destination and saw the brunette running toward her.

"Cissa!" the witch exclaimed as she wrapped Narcissa in a hug. "Gods, it´s been forever. You look great!"

"Thanks, Rinn," Narcissa replied as she returned her friend´s hug. "But what´s happened to you? Don´t you ever eat?" she asked with a grin. Erinn was as thin as she had been the day they graduated from Hogwarts. "Really, it´s disgusting. You´re a grown woman and you should have more meat on your bones." Erinn laughed as she walked with Narcissa back to the table.

Narcissa was not short or ugly by any means, and never had been, but next to the gorgeous and tall, willowy form of Erinn, she had always felt rather like a gnome. Erinn´s wavy brown hair fell just past her chin and played against the olive skin of her gracefully shaped neck, which flowed downward into a figure envied by most Muggle fashion models. Erinn, for her part, tried to compensate for this by wearing loose robes and slightly baggy Muggle clothing. But Narcissa still noticed glances from the men in the room, directed at her friend´s face, charming as ever.

"Where to start?" Erinn said as they sat down, her brown eyes sparkling and her smile making her face look girlish and adorable. One shouldn´t still be considered `girlish´ and `adorable´ at the age of thirty-five... Narcissa mused, only slightly jealous.

"You go first. I´m sure you have far more interesting stories to tell," Narcissa prodded.

"Well, I don´t know about interesting, but there certainly are stories," Erinn granted. She proceeded to tell Narcissa about her time in Italy, while Tom brought them kidney pies and butterbeer. She had received several promotions within the department and was currently the personal assistant to the liaison, an aging and rather hopeless wizard named Muller.

"Rinn, that´s wonderful!" Narcissa replied. "Congratulations."

"What´s not quite so wonderful is that the whole office thinks we´ve been called back because they´re going to reassign him," Erinn said with a frown.

"Isn´t that a good thing?" Narcissa raised an eyebrow, confused. "If the position´s open, you could have it."

Erinn shook her head. "But we don´t know if the staff goes with the position, or Muller himself. If the new liaison comes from within the department, one of us, some or all of the staff will probably stay. But if it´s somebody completely new, which I wouldn´t put it past the Ministry to do, they´ll probably want to bring in their own crew. Which means most of us will be out of jobs."

"Not the best reason to come home," Narcissa agreed.

Erinn gave a half-laugh and shrugged. "I don´t know where home is. I´ve been away so long that England feels foreign, but I haven´t been in Italy long enough to really call that home, either."

"I´m sure you´ll find some Italian fellow, if you haven´t already, and that should speed up the process," Narcissa suggested with a smirk.

"I steer clear of fellows, Cissa, you know that..." Erinn lapsed into uncharacteristic and uncomfortable silence, then emitted a self-deprecating laugh. "I don´t have the best judgment, do I?"

Narcissa didn´t know what to say. She never did, when this subject came up. Erinn had only really loved one man in her life, a fellow Gryffindor two years younger than she, and a man most decent witches and wizards considered the vilest of betrayers. Sirius Black was languishing in Azkaban, and had been for eleven years. Almost exactly, this month... Narcissa remembered. Erinn had already been in Italy for a year, hoping he might join her, when news of the betrayal of the Potters and the subsequent disappearance of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named reached her. Her letters to Narcissa had been full of hurt and disbelief at first, and then shocked outrage when she discovered that he had not even been given a trial. Looking across the table and seeing the denial and hope still haunting her friend´s eyes, she knew that Erinn would never be able to forget him.

Her years as a gracious hostess in awkward situations served her well in changing the subject. "Did you have plans for the rest of the day?" she asked.

"Not really," Erinn replied, returning from her dark thoughts. "Muller´s given us all this first couple of days to get settled back. Get used to speaking English in public again and all that..."

"I have errands to run in Diagon Alley. Would you come with me?" Narcissa looked at her friend, hopeful.

Erinn finally granted her one of the smiles she remembered. "Have I ever said no to shopping with you, Ciss?"

The two women walked to the back of the Leaky Cauldron, and out into the small courtyard behind it. Narcissa took out her wand and tapped the pattern into the bricks on the wall, which then folded themselves neatly into an archway leading to the familiar wizard shopping district.

Narcissa and Erinn walked arm-in-arm through Diagon Alley. They stopped at Honeyduke´s extension, a sister store to the one in Hogsmeade, and Narcissa bought Draco a bag of sweets.

"He´s twelve now, right?" Erinn asked as they walked out of the store. Narcissa nodded. "They grow up fast, don´t they?"

"They do, indeed," Narcissa answered. "Too fast."

"Does he still favor you? He was such a beautiful baby."

"No, he´s grown into Lucius, now." In more ways than just looks. Upon coming home from his first year at Hogwarts, Narcissa had realized that Draco had become everything she had feared. Perhaps if she hadn´t spoiled him, he would have been more conscientious and resourceful, like a Hufflepuff. If she hadn´t always protected him, he might have been a brave Gryffindor. He was her son, so he might have been a Ravenclaw. But he was also Lucius´ son.

Erinn sensed her mood. "He´s in Slytherin, isn´t he?"

Narcissa nodded.

"I know you didn´t want him to be." Erinn laid a comforting hand on Narcissa´s back. "He´ll find his own way. It might take him a while, but he will. He has too much of you in him."

Narcissa smiled. "He´s the Seeker for his House team," she said. "I think he´s a bit young to be playing Quidditch, but Harry Potter was made Seeker in his first year, and Draco made such a fuss about not being allowed his broom at school that Lucius bought the entire team new Nimbus 2001´s for this year."

"How very Slytherin of him," Erinn commented. Narcissa could tell without looking that she was rolling her eyes.

"Speaking of whom, that reminds me," Narcissa stopped walking to change direction, "Lucius´ birthday is in a few weeks, and I wanted to buy new robes for his party."

"Robe shopping, too?" Erinn spun around to follow her. "Cissa, you´re using up all our fun outings in one day," she pouted.

Narcissa laughed. "Well, I don´t know how much longer you´re going to be in the country. Better to do it all at once than miss the chance because you get promoted and sent back to Italy."

They walked to Madam Malkin´s robe shop. The store witches instantly began fluttering around the two women solicitously.

"Mrs. Malfoy, how lovely to see you again. How are those robes working for Mister Draco? We still have his measurements, if you wanted more..."

"No, thank you," Narcissa replied. "I´m shopping for myself today."

"Oh, how lovely. And what were you looking for?" The seamstress raised an eyebrow in interest. Working on commission, no doubt.

"Mr. Malfoy´s birthday is at the end of the month, and I´d like some new dress robes."

The seamstress´ eyes glittered with excitement. "Oh, ma'am, we have just the thing..." and Narcissa was whisked off to the back of the store. Erinn, with her seemingly careless opinion of clothes (considering the somewhat oversized robe), was obviously seen as a secondary priority. She followed, grinning, and rounded a corner to find Narcissa standing on a small box, swathed in yards of shimmering, silvery gray fabric that was slowly taking the form of an elegant robe. Erinn shook her head.

"That won´t do," she said.

"I beg your pardon?" the seamstress asked. Narcissa looked doubtful.

"That color is no good," she answered, stepping closer. "Look at this woman: she has cornflower blue eyes and buttery blonde hair, and you´re putting her in gray? She´ll lose all her natural color. She needs something more vibrant."

The seamstress witches looked at Erinn askance, but once they realized Narcissa was seriously considering the suggestion, they changed their minds. "Of course, we were just about to..." and the half-formed silver robe lifted off of Narcissa and went flying behind the three-paneled mirror. "What color would you like, ma'am?"

Narcissa looked at Erinn, who simply smiled and sank into a nearby chair. "Blue," she answered. Erinn nodded approval.

"Satin or velvet, ma'am?" one seamstress asked, as the other levitated bolts of fabric from the stacks behind the counter and presented them to Narcissa.

"Both," Erinn answered, fingering the hem of a nearby display.

The seamstress´ expression at first was a scathing look, but then she seemed to think about the implication of Erinn´s suggestion, and her lips curved into a smile that indicated she was coming to like this interloper and her ideas.

"Yes," Narcissa agreed, "a gown in satin, and the outer robe in velvet."

"As you wish, ma'am."

The satin began wrapping itself around Narcissa and, with only a few suggestions from Erinn, became a simple but very striking gown. It had a fairly decent scoop neckline, and fell in smooth princess seams down to her ankles, with just a slight flaring at her hips. The sleeves were long and slender, with cuffs that buttoned most of the way to her elbows, and came to graceful points on the backs of her hands. The back of the dress was the most striking, though. Narcissa´s back was bare to almost her waist, her fair skin bordered elegantly by a swath of the dark royal blue fabric draped from one shoulder to the other, the base of the curve resting in soft folds against the small of her back.

Erinn didn´t quite understand why Narcissa had been so particular about the back of her dress: it would be covered by her robe. But it was so much fun to be playing dress-up with Narcissa again, that she didn´t mind the eccentricity.

The robe was a deep, midnight blue, which complemented the gown nicely. It was cut wide down the front, to better display the form-fitting gown. It was fitted around the bodice and flared out from her waist, where it was held by a thin cord of silver and gold. Narcissa stood in the finished product and turned in a circle for Erinn to see all of it. "What do you think, Rinn?" she asked with a smile Erinn had not seen in too many years.

"Hmm, it´s missing something..." she replied. "The sleeves aren´t right. They´re too heavy for you." Narcissa turned back to the mirror and lifted her arms to look at the wide bells of the velvet sleeves as Erinn walked over to the counter, ignoring the skeptical glances from the seamstresses, and tapped her wand against her chin as she examined the bolts along the wall. "Ah," she said finally, pointing to one, "Accio." The bolt slid itself out of its spot and sailed into Erinn´s waiting arms. She brought it back to Narcissa and held out her find. It was a gauzy, white material, embroidered with subtle swirls of gold and silver. "Here, take these sleeves off," she instructed one of the seamstresses, who was startled enough that she obeyed quickly and didn´t ask any questions. Erinn then unwrapped some of the material and held it up to Narcissa´s shoulder.

"Oh, yes," Narcissa said, seeing what Erinn had in mind. "Large oversleeves of this, open all the way down the front, like the robe itself," she instructed.

"Dye this blue and it´ll be perfect," Erinn added.

"They´ll look rather like wings," one of the seamstresses said, and it sounded as if she hadn´t decided whether that was a good thing or not.

"Perfect," Narcissa replied, grinning at Erinn. How often as children had they played at being faerie princesses? When the filmy oversleeves were attached to her shoulders, she finally felt like it. A simple charm turned the fabric from white to blue, and the seamstresses and Erinn all stood back to observe their creation.

"Oh, Mrs. Malfoy," one of them cooed, "this is a one-of-a-kind. Would you like us to keep the pattern, or destroy it?" Narcissa doubted very much that they really would destroy the pattern once they were done with her garments, no matter what she said.

"You may keep the design," she answered, "But please don´t make another until after the party."

The seamstresses nodded excitedly, and carefully wrapped the gown and robe in tissue and placed them in a box while Narcissa put her burgundy robe back on.

"Of course," she said as she dressed, "you´re more than welcome to the party, Rinn. Shall I get to dress you up, now?"

Erinn laughed. "Not this time. I received a gift in Italy from the Japanese liaison, and I´ve been looking for a chance to wear it. This party should be perfect. Thank you, Ciss."

"You´re not going to show me up at my own party, are you? It´s in very bad taste to overdress the hostess," Narcissa said as she signed the credit slip to remove the money from her Gringotts account. "Please have this sent to the Manor," she instructed, and the seamstresses nodded and curtseyed her out of the store.

"No one could overdress you in that, Cissa," Erinn said on the front steps of the store. "It´s incredible, really. Even if they make hundreds more of that design, no one will wear it as well as you."

Narcissa blushed and, to change the subject, said, "So, tell me about this Japanese fellow who buys you dress robes..."

Erinn flashed Narcissa her irresistible smirk, slipped her arm through hers, and began walking down the street again. The two women walked for a few hours more, laughing and gossiping the way they had the first time they walked down this street together, all those years ago.