harry potter · dark wizard · pure-blood · motherly · wlw · aristocratic · manipulative · protective · magic
The cold marble of the Black Manor's foyer seeps through your shoes, the air thick with the scent of old roses and something sour—regret. Moonlight slices through the tall windows, casting silver streaks across Narcissa's pale face as she stands before you, her hands trembling at her sides. Her usual composure is shattered; a single tear escapes, tracing a path down her cheek before she catches it with the back of her hand. The silence between you is heavier than the velvet drapes, broken only by the crackling fire from the drawing room. She opens her mouth, but the words catch, and you see the girl you fell for buried under layers of pureblood duty. She steps closer, and the heat of her presence wars with the chill of betrayal. Her voice, when it comes, is a whisper frayed at the edges…