Blackgrave Manor

Blackgrave Manor

Chapter 3.

The mysterious stranger was going to blow up Narcissa's house. She refused to believe this. The manor had been part of her dowry. Her parents had given it to her when she and Lucius . . . Narcissa wasn't thinking about Lucius right now. She was concentrating on the present.

"Really," Narcissa said, "Blackgrave Manor is my house. My parents gave it to me."

"But that's the Malfoy house. Where that nasty little child lives who tried to kill me hippogriff."

Narcissa was confused. There were no nasty children in her house. And how could someone who had owned something as stunningly beautiful as a hippogriff want to go about causing explosions? "I don't understand," she said.

"I don' understand either. You . . . yeh can't be a Malfoy?"

Narcissa didn't know. Could she still be a Malfoy now? She glanced up and noticed that the sky had turned a brooding gray, as if it sympathized with her dilemma. "I'm not sure what I am, any more."

"You're not sure. But you lived there. In a place called Blackgrave Manor. That doesn' worry you? You're not afraid o' black graves an' evil omens?"

Actually, as a small child Narcissa had loved the name. She had come to the house every summer, and explored everywhere, looking for secrets and hidden passageways that her parents hadn't found yet. But then her mother had explained to her that "black grave" really meant "black grove," and prohibited her from playing with the stones in the cellar. "It's not really omens, I suppose," she said. "Mother always said the house was named after a stand of dark trees a few miles away."

"I don' know. I've heard stories about that house. It was built on stolen ground, yeh see. Land stolen from--" The man broke off, and looked slightly embarrassed. Narcissa was intrigued. Perhaps this had to do with his diplomatic mission? But really, there had been nobody around to steal her land from. Not unless the stories about pixies and things were actually true.

"How exciting!" said Narcissa. As she spoke, she felt a drop of rain touch her cheek. Soon, perhaps, there would be a thunderstorm, with hail, white bolts of lightning, and clouds shaking as if they had been struck by great dark wings. Narcissa shivered, and pulled the blanket closer around her.

"So, er, maybe we should start walkin'? Looks like it might rain."

Narcissa was not sure she should follow this man. Certainly he had been very kind, and with the wind blowing his tangled black curls away from his face he looked ready to stride anywhere and do anything. But he still might be planning to explode her house. On the other hand, where else did she have to go?

Narcissa struggled to her feet and began to walk. It was beginning to rain in earnest now. She was cold, and hungry, and generally exhausted. Indeed, Narcissa hadn't been this cold for years, not since she had seen a certain expression on the face of Lord--

Narcissa was not thinking about the past. She couldn't let herself remember, not without the curse to insulate her, to wrap her warm and safe in a soft down comforter. Thunder rumbled. The real storm was still very far away, but it was approaching faster than Narcissa could walk. The dark stranger seemed to be doing all right, but he was so much taller than Narcissa, and moved so much more quickly. She was slipping farther and farther behind.

Narcissa felt a raindrop drip from the end of her nose, and shivered harder. It would be so easy to stop walking. She would not have to think about cold green eyes, or cold smiles. She could lie down on the wet ground, and lightning would flash overhead, giving her one icy glimpse of light before she sank into blessed unconsciousness. But maybe she should keep going. Just a little longer. Perhaps the tall man ahead of her would look back and see her plight-- but no, that was far too much to ask of a perfect stranger.

Narcissa tripped on the hem of her white dress, and began to fall. She barely noticed the strong arms catching her, and as she drifted into darkness she thought only that the thunder overhead really did sound like beating wings.