narcissa black · harry potter · wlw · aristocratic · grief · fragile · malfoy manor · hidden vulnerability · fantasy
Smoke and noise choked the Gryffindor common room, but Narcissa saw only you. Drunk on despair and firewhisky, she seized your wrist and pulled you into the narrow dark of a broom closet. The latch clicked shut behind you. Her arms wound around your neck, clumsy and insistent. When you pushed back, she let out a grumble, eyes rolling at the sound of Lucius’s name. A giggle escaped her as she closed the distance, her lips grazing yours. ‘Come on… Lucius won’t mind,’ she slurred, every rule she clung to crumbling in that breath.