Now in the Morning I Sleep Alone

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to JKR. I've just taken a dive into her sandbox.

Now in the Morning I Sleep Alone

The music swirled, tumbling through the ballroom in a gentle wave, sweeping beneath skirts and rustling the curtains as it went. If Narcissa closed her eyes, she could see it, could see where she would stand to catch its highest note, could see where to spin and where to curtsey and where to still. It was effortless, all so perfectly simple, an easy rise and fall...first the eye, catching; then the hand, on the shoulder, one on hem; and last the mouth, a pilgrim's kiss.

This time, Narcissa let herself laugh.

--

Somebody was going to die if Narcissa Black did not get out of her house. The heat had kept them imprisoned inside Black Manor all week, pacing outside of the locked doors and pressing urgently against the cooling charms. She'd been too afraid to even open a window to send owl post, for fear of the creeping heat slinking inside and poisoning the precious, cool air.

Not to mention that every bloody time she turned around, someone was talking about The Birthday Party. She'd assigned it capital letters in her head, for all the importance it seemed to have...it was supposed to be the social event of the summer. Bella's birthday and engagement party all rolled into one. Everyone who was anyone would be there; all the available bachelors were invited.

As prospects for Drommie.

Narcissa felt that it was spectacularly unfair that her sister should get a ball that was unofficially dedicated to finding a boyfriend all to herself. She'd been going to the parties for three years now...if she hadn't found someone already, it was obvious that Mother and Daddy would have to do it for her. And why not? There was nothing wrong with that. Girls had their parents arrange their marriages all the time.

And anyway, Narcissa knew, Drommie's single status wasn't for lack of options. Her sister had a grace to her, a soft loveliness that always came as a surprise. She wasn't like Narcissa, or Bella, whose features were striking and immediate; Drommie's beauty was more gradual, growing with every second look. She probably could have been engaged by now, if she'd really wanted to be; she was just too picky, and that was no one's fault but her own.

Narcissa, on the other hand... she knew already whom she wanted (Lucius Malfoy), and how she wanted him (immediately), and all it would take would be one night and she'd have him. But if she didn't get downstairs quickly enough the nearest tart in a low-cut dress would snatch him up and everything would be absolutely ruined forever.

Thursday took a hundred years to roll around, and mercifully some of the heat had broken that morning. Still, Narcissa wore her temperature-adjusting robes from Madam Malkin's; she'd be damned if she'd get caught outside without them if the cool streak broke.

They Floo'd directly to the Leaky Cauldron. Bellatrix went first (of course), followed closely by Drommie, and Narcissa let a few seconds pass before she followed. She never trusted Drommie to step out of the fireplace fast enough, as she almost always forgot something.

Anyway, that was just the way they did things. Bella-and-Drommie and Narcissa. It's how it had always been. She'd never managed to break into their little club, but that had never bothered her before. It was just recently. She wasn't a child anymore, or she wouldn't be in two months, and there was hardly any reason for them to keep treating her like she was Reggie's age.

She stepped out of the fireplace, brushing soot off of her robes, and cleared her hair from her face. Sure enough, Bella and Drommie had formed a team huddle over in the corner; but there was a third person with them.

Rodolphus. Narcissa guessed he'd returned from Argentina.

She'd never decided if Rodolphus was handsome or not; he was striking, certainly, with hard, dark eyes and a set chin. She supposed he was good-looking enough for Bellatrix, anyway, if not quite for her. He was no Lucius Malfoy.

She made her way to them, and Rodolphus greeted her with a coolly polite half-smile and a kiss on her hand. "Narcissa," he said with a nod. "Lovely as always."

Perhaps she hadn't been fair before. He was certainly a gentleman, and his looks got better on a second look. "Hello, Rolph," she responded cheerfully. "When did you get back from Argentina? Bella didn't mention she was meeting you today."

"I had business in London last night."

She was saved from answering by Bella's amused laughter. "You certainly did," she hummed, which Narcissa didn't really understand but Drommie seemed to disapprove of. Her middle sister coughed and cut her eyes towards Narcissa in a gesture that seemed to indicate that whatever Rodolphus' business had been, it wasn't to be spoken of in front of her. Bella rolled her eyes. "Oh, please, Meda, like she doesn't already know," she said, although Rodolphus still looked uncomfortable. "I knew all about it at her age."

And then Narcissa got it. Right. Sex.

"You knew more at fourteen then I know now," Drommie replied dryly. "Can we at least pretend to be appropriate?"

"It's good to know that at least one of you has some sense of propriety," Rodolphus said in a voice that couldn't quite be called teasing but couldn't quite be called disapproval, either. Narcissa always had a fairly difficult time reading him, probably because his expression was always so controlled.

She looked around for a clock. "Shouldn't we get moving?" she asked impatiently, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

Drommie smiled and reached out to pet her head. "Yes. Bella and Rolph are going off on their own to," she hesitated, "look at rings. We'll meet up with Bella at Madam Malkin's so we can pick out her dress. Come on."

Together, they went out into the bright sunshine; it was as hot as ever, but somehow less oppressive, a lighter heat which kissed as their skin but never seemed to settle. Diagon wasn't particularly busy, but Narcissa still refused to hold her hand once they were out of the Leaky...she wasn't twelve anymore, after all, and she didn't want people to think she had to be... led anywhere.

Drommie smiled down at her. "Where to first?"

--

Wizzhard Books was smaller than Flourish and Blotts, tucked between Ollivander's and Twilfit and Tatting's, and rarely had more than two customers at a time. Narcissa loathed it. So much dust and so few windows, and hardly anyone to socialize with; the few women her age that bothered to go into them were either on a mission and didn't have time to talk or were like Drommie and wanted to stand for a million hours and read.

"Are you done yet?" She moaned after a few minutes of browsing, "I could've crushed a whole goblin uprising in the time it's taken you to get through the history section."

Narcissa heaved a sigh, tapping her foot impatiently and pretending she didn't notice the annoyed look her sister shot her at the words. "It took almost fifty years to put down the last troll uprising," Andromeda said dryly.

"That's my point."

Drommie sighed. She gazed longingly at the shelves before her, admiring each overstuffed with volume like it was a piece of jewellery or a new house just waiting to be decorated. She ran her hand thoughtfully over a few spines before turning to her sister. "I'll make you a deal," she offered decisively after a moment. "You go ahead, get whatever it is you need. I'll meet you back here at one-thirty."

"You have all the money," Narcissa pointed out. "And without you I always spend too much."

Drommie reached deep into her pocket and tossed Narcissa a small purse, heavy with galleons. "I'm sure Father is used to your spending habits by now," she said with a resigned shake of her head. "Back here at one-thirty. If you're late I'll tell Mother you nicked the purse and spent it all on fattening candy."

"But I haven't!" Narcissa protested indignantly, hands flying to her hips. She fought the urge to stamp her foot.

Drommie smiled cheerfully. "Well, don't be late, and no one has to think you did."

She was always being bullied. It was horribly unfair. Bella did whatever she liked and got away with it, and Drommie just went along and seemed bored all the time, but Narcissa worked really hard to be perfect, and all she got for her pains was two bossy big sisters.

"I don't know what you like so much about bookstores anyway," she grumbled, looping the drawstring of the purse around her wrist.

Drommie sighed, pulling a thick tome with gold engraving on the cover from the shelf. "Haven't you ever wanted to be someone else?" she asked dreamily, running her hand along the book's binding.

Narcissa stared at her. "Why would I possibly want that?"

Her sister shook her head. "I wouldn't expect you to understand," she said with a shrug. "Malkin's at two. Don't forget."

With that, Drommie turned away, dismissing her.

--

She bought new perfume, a QuickQuotes Quill, some fresh ink, and a new pair of gloves. Altogether a successful trip. She'd window-shopped at bit at Madam Pimpernelle's, but Druella Black's Guide to Womanhood, Step Three was never to use beauty products, only spells, because they were more reliable and less noticeable, so she didn't go inside.

Besides, the thought of seeing someone she knew was just too embarrassing.

It was almost one-twenty by the time she was satisfied, so she headed back to Wizzhard with her bags in hand. She could see Drommie through the window, her back to Narcissa.

There was a boy with her that Narcissa didn't recognize. He was vaguely familiar, so he probably went to Hogwarts, but he certainly wasn't a Slytherin. He had a nice half-smile and crinkled grey-green eyes; his hair flopped lazily over one eye. He stood a good four inches over Drommie even as he slouched, his shoved hands deep in his pockets as he leaned against the bookshelf.

Narcissa sighed. Her sister was too much of a bleeding-heart, always treating other Houses like they were important.

She went inside with the intention of tricking Drommie into going to Fortescue's with her before heading to Madam Malkin's, but she slowed as she approached, curious to hear the conversation. Her sister was standing relaxed, Theories of Transubstantial Transfiguration held in front of her like a shield. If it weren't for the frigid air hanging around her, or the tense way that her fingers ticked against the callused binding, Narcissa might have thought her vaguely bored.

"... bollocks," the boy was saying, expression amused as Drommie ran her eyes over him like she was Aunt Elladora and he was a house-elf that couldn't carry the tea tray.

"Are you sure I can't direct you somewhere, Tonks?" she asked coolly. "Perhaps, I don't know...away?"

The boy's smile widened. "You just get sweeter every summer, Andromeda Black," he told her, and then his eyes caught Narcissa's. He winked at her and, without another word, bounded from the shop.

"What was that?" Narcissa blurted as soon as he was out of earshot.

Drommie rolled her eyes, dropping the transfiguration book onto the already impressive stack and hefting it into her arms. "Nothing," she said in a clipped tone. "An insufferably big-headed Hufflepuff who is sorely mistaken if he thinks he's going to beat me in Charms again this year." Then she smiled. "Come on. Let's go see if we can talk Bella out of buying lingerie and calling it a dress robe, shall we?"

--

They couldn't.

A/N: Thanks to ConstantComment for looking this over... and for providing comic relief.