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Narcissa, generally speaking, found most of her Aunt Walburga’s dinner parties to be a pain. It wasn’t that she minded dinner parties in and of themselves, but she wasn’t very fond of Aunt Walburga herself, and her cousin Sirius always made a scene.
It was, however, one of the few opportunities she had to check in on her darling cousin Regulus, and she would get to wear her new Christian Dior dress with her brand new Louboutins, which were, of course, the newest craze in fashion.
She showed up just on time (which was to say fashionably late), and rang the doorbell.
Almost immediately, her aunt’s butler opened the door. Narcissa barely spared him a cursory glance, and her gaze settled quickly on her cousin Regulus, who was trying to look like he hadn’t been waiting for her in the foyer.
She walked over to him and kissed him once on each cheek. “Hello, darling.”
Regulus was, as she’d expected, wearing a custom-tailored designer suit — this week, it was Versace, if she wasn’t mistaken (and she was never mistaken about such things). From head to toe, Regulus looked the part of the proper, well-bred son he was.
“Hello, Cissa,” he said.
“How is Eton, darling?”
“It’s going quite well,” Regulus said. “I’ve just received word I’ll be made prefect next term.”
“That’s wonderful,” Narcissa enthused. “Of course, I could have assumed as much, really. And how is everything with…?”
Regulus pulled a face. “He’s decided he’s going to be the next Kurt Cobain. I’ve asked if that includes shooting himself while strung out on drugs, and he hit me.”
“I imagine your mother is quite pleased with that turn of events.”
“Quite,” Regulus said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he refuses to wear even shirtsleeves tonight.”
Nor would Narcissa. “Well, let us hope, for his sake, that he consents to dressing like a civilised person for one night,” she said.
Regulus glanced toward the staircase. “Let’s hope.”
“Shall we go to the drawing room?” she asked. “I’m certain your mother is expecting me.”
“Yes,” Regulus agreed.
Aunt Walburga’s house was truly quite dreary. If you asked Narcissa, it likely hadn’t been renovated since the turn of the century, though it wasn’t as if that side of the family was in any want of money, and there was something about how old everything seemed that made her uncomfortable. The house, though, was nothing compared to her aunt’s personality. She braced herself as she followed Regulus up the stairs and into the drawing room.
Her Aunt Walburga sat reclined on the sofa, coupe of champagne in hand, ranting loudly about how the country was going to hell with Thatcher out of office.
Narcissa was certain that she was not imagining how tense Regulus seemed, and the reason for that was quite obvious. Regulus hadn’t told anyone, let alone Narcissa herself, but it was clear as day that he was gay. She rather thought that Aunt Walburga saw that, too, which made her comments all the more infuriating.
“Hello, Aunt Walburga,” Narcissa greeted, interrupting her mid-rant.
Aunt Walburga looked up. “Narcissa! Darling! How lovely to see you!”
“It’s lovely to see you, too, Aunt Walburga,” Narcissa lied. “You look well!”
Aunt Walburga preened at the flattery. “Thank you. I recently went on holiday in the Maldives, you know. I only arrived back to see the boys back from school.”
“The Maldives suit you,” Narcissa said. She took a coupe of champagne from a server and sipped at it. In truth, Aunt Walburga looked awful; her skin was pallid (despite apparently having recently returned from the Maldives), and her hair was thin, dry, and her grey roots were visible. But, well, it wasn’t as if Narcissa was going to say that. Narcissa, for her part, sidled closer to Regulus, who was fidgeting with the hem of his jacket. “I’ve actually wondered if Regulus might want to go with me to Saint Barth’s later this summer,” she said.
“Oh, I think that’s an excellent idea,” Aunt Walburga said. “Regulus deserves a treat.”
He quite deserved to get away from his mother, but Narcissa knew better than to even allude to that. She also knew better than to ask if Sirius could get away, as well, though there was something selfish in that; she didn’t particularly like spending time with the older Black brother.
“I quite agree,” Narcissa said.
“I would love to go to Saint Barth’s,” Regulus said. His voice was controlled and calm. Narcissa wondered if he ever showed enthusiasm for anything at home — though, on second thought, she knew the answer.
“Then it’s settled,” Narcissa said. “Aunt Walburga, I can get you in touch with my travel agent.”
“Of course, darling, of course,” Aunt Walburga said. “You’ll have to leave it with Kreacher. He handles such things; I’ve not the time for such trivial matters.”
“Of course, Aunt Walburga,” Narcissa said. She took a sip of her champagne and looked around the room. Her Uncle Orion never came downstairs for social events, and she wasn’t surprised to see that Sirius had yet to grace them with his presence. Aunt Walburga’s sister, Lucretia Prewett, was sitting across from her, and a few family friends and Tory politicians were strewn throughout the room. No wonder Regulus had waited for her in the foyer. Narcissa said her hellos – as was only polite, though she didn’t let Regulus get very far from her.
She settled in next to Regulus on one of the settees, and kept up quiet conversation with him about school and his friends (the few he could claim; she was quite concerned for him, really), though she was careful not to seem closed off to anyone else.
Narcissa looked up when a new guest arrived in the drawing room. He was handsome — stunningly so — with white-blond hair and cool grey eyes. He carried himself with all of the grace and arrogance of new money. His suit was Armani, and, really, Narcissa couldn’t help but wonder what it’d look like on her bedroom floor.
He was introduced to Narcissa as Lucius Malfoy. Narcissa recognised the name immediately. His father was a big name, though Narcissa wasn’t sure quite what he did. She didn’t think anyone was sure quite what he did. The Malfoys were, at least, new money — she thought perhaps his father was in real estate? Or something boring like that.
He introduced himself politely. “Of course, I’ve heard all about you, Miss Black.”
“Have you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Naturally, naturally,” he said. “I think we ran in the same circles at Cambridge, but we were never formally introduced.”
“What a loss for you,” Narcissa said.
Lucius Malfoy met her gaze daringly. “I quite agree.”
Narcissa saw neither hide nor hair of Sirius until it was time for dinner. She was seated between Lucius and Regulus — and she certainly couldn’t complain about that — when Sirius stormed into the room wearing a ratty Nirvana t-shirt under a garish red and gold flannel shirt (where did he even find such things?), complete with dirty, ripped jeans, and ugly, big, black docs. His hair was longer than Narcissa had ever seen it, and it looked like he hadn’t washed it in ages.
Compared to Regulus (who seemed to shrink in his seat the moment Sirius entered the room), especially, the contrast was striking.
Narcissa knew Sirius well enough to know that what he craved, most of all, was a reaction, so she was careful not to give him one, and continued speaking to Regulus about her recent trip to Paris.
Aunt Walburga, though, it seemed, either hadn’t learned this lesson, or didn’t care, because she stopped talking to Lucretia Prewett mid-sentence and turned to give Sirius one of the coldest looks Narcissa had ever seen. “I thought I made it clear that you were to wear a suit.”
Sirius flopped down in an empty seat. “Didn’t feel like it.”
“Sirius,” Aunt Walburga said, her voice low and threatening. “Go upstairs and change. You are embarrassing yourself.”
“Nah,” Sirius said. “I’m embarrassing you.”
“Lucius,” Narcissa said perhaps a bit too loudly, “where did you attend secondary school?”
“I was educated at Eton,” Lucius said. He seemed eager to latch on to the change of topic.
“Oh!” Narcissa exclaimed. “What a coincidence! Regulus and his brother are currently at Eton!”
“Well, not currently,” Sirius said. “Seeing as we’re on holiday. And I’m not about to become some Oxbridge twat.”
“I’m terribly sorry for my son’s behaviour, Mr. Malfoy,” Aunt Walburga said. She turned to Sirius and glared at him. “Apologise for your insolence.”
“I don’t think I will,” Sirius said. As he hadn’t been served yet, he reached across the table and poured himself a very large glass of wine. “My mate Jem and I are starting a band.”
Lucius looked from Aunt Walburga to Sirius to Narcissa – and then back to Sirius. “What, er… what sort of band?” he asked, though Narcissa was sure he could tell just by the way Sirius looked.
“Grunge,” Sirius said. “Sort of like Nirvana, but less mainstream.”
A lesser man might have laughed, but Lucius kept Sirius’s gaze. “I’d be interested to hear it.”
“Yeah, because you listen to real music,” Sirius scoffed. “I believe that.”
“I do,” Lucius said. “I might dress properly for a dinner party, but I assure you, I listen to a varied assortment of music.”
Sirius rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Then name one grunge band besides Nirvana.”
“Pearl Jam.”
“Besides them. Everyone knows them.”
“Hole,” Lucius said.
“Hole doesn’t count.”
“Why doesn’t Hole count?” Lucius asked.
“Because Courtney Love killed Kurt Cobain, which I’m pretty sure disqualifies her from being able to be called grunge.”
Narcissa had no idea what they were talking about, but Aunt Walburga looked about ready to kill Sirius.
“She didn’t kill him,” Lucius said, rolling his eyes.
“Maybe not directly,” Sirius said.
“Don’t get him started on this,” Regulus said.
Sirius glared at his brother. “Don’t you start, you fucking swot.”
“Sirius!” Aunt Walburga yelled. “That is enough! We do not need to discuss drug addicts at the dinner table! Especially when we have company!”
“I don’t mind, Lady Black,” Lucius said. “I think an appreciation for the arts is healthy.”
“For the arts, perhaps, but screaming into a microphone is not art.”
“Like you know anything about art,” Sirius growled.
“Upstairs,” Aunt Walburga said, standing up and going to haul Sirius out of his seat.
Narcissa cleared her throat and turned her attention to Regulus. “So,” she said. “Saint Barth’s. Regulus, darling, do you have any idea what you’d like to do there?”
Regulus glanced nervously to where Aunt Walburga was still trying to heave Sirius out of his chair. “I thought I’d like to sample the cuisine,” he said.
“Oh, the food there is delicious!” Narcissa said. “And I would quite like to go swimming, I think.”
“Swimming sounds lovely,” Regulus said.
“Oh, fuck this!” Sirius shouted. He pushed his mother away and stood up. “I’m going to go stay with Jem!” He stormed out of the room, and Walburga chased after him.
Narcissa noticed Regulus visibly tense, so she placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure it’ll calm down.”
Regulus shook his head. “It won’t.”
Narcissa wanted to ask how he was so sure, but she knew better than to do that in front of others. “So, Lucius,” she began, but then Regulus spoke again.
“I know it’s terribly rude, Aunt Lucretia, Lucius — everyone — but I think – I think perhaps it’s best if… I think dinner is quite over.”
There was the slightest tremor in his voice, and Narcissa decided in that moment not to leave him alone. “Regulus,” she said. “Why don’t I… I think we’ve still some time before some of the shops close. Why don’t we try to find you a good swimsuit for Saint Barth’s?”
“I can drive you,” Lucius offered.
Regulus looked between them. “A-all right,” he said. “We’ll tell Kreacher on the way out.”
And so, a scant three minutes later, they were sat in Lucius Malfoy’s car, parked a block away from the house.
“I’ve forgotten my wallet,” Regulus said.
“That’s quite all right,” Narcissa assured him. “I’ll send your mother a copy of the receipt.”
“Rather than try on swimsuits,” Lucius said. “Why don’t we go to the pub?”
“Regulus is fifteen,” Narcissa said. “We can’t go to the pub with a child.”
“I could go for a pint,” Regulus said.
Narcissa turned and looked at him. Did she really not know him at all?
“I know just the place,” Lucius said.
The place Lucius knew was just as fancy and extravagant as Narcissa could have surmised from his name and attire — and, evidently, they had no issue with letting a clearly underage boy drink a pint of beer.
Narcissa wasn’t sure what to make of it.
“So,” Lucius said when he was three drinks in (he drank top shelf bourbon, because of course he did).
“So?” Narcissa said, swirling her glass of cabernet sauvignon.
“Is your aunt normally such a bitch?”
Narcissa didn’t know how to reply to that, but evidently, Regulus did. “You have no idea,” he said. “If he does leave for James Potter’s – he’s not going to come back.”
“You don’t know that,” Narcissa said.
“But I do,” Regulus said. “He’s had it planned for ages. This whole – running away thing.”
“He has?” Narcissa asked.
Regulus nodded. “Frankly, I’m surprised he even came home for hols. He could have gone right to Potter’s.”
“Are you – Regulus, darling, are you okay in that house?”
“I’m fine,” Regulus said. “I do everything she asks.”
Narcissa didn’t think that was any real guarantee of safety. “If you ever need anything, you know how to find me,” she said. “And I do mean it, Regulus, darling: anything. No matter how trivial you think it is.”
“Thank you,” Regulus said. “But right now, I think I’d really rather hear about Paris. You said you had a private tour of the Louvre?”
“Oh, of course,” Narcissa said, pretending, as she knew Regulus wanted, to be completely distracted by his question. “That’s really the only way to see the Louvre, honestly. No obnoxious tourists to worry about, no one rushing you along – you have as much time as you need.”
Lucius Malfoy rang her three nights later.
“I think we should go out for drinks,” he said, sounding every bit as charming on the phone as she remembered.
“Only if you’re paying,” she countered.
They sorted out a time and a place, and she met him there, wearing a new Dolce and Gabbana dress and a new pair of Louboutins and looking, generally speaking, perfect. He was waiting outside when she arrived, and they went in together.
He waited until they had their drinks in hand to ask, “How are your cousins?”
She sighed. “Regulus was right. Sirius hasn’t come back — not yet, anyway — and… well, Regulus is coming to Saint Barth’s with me next week, and I’ve made sure to invite him out quite often – I’m not sure what Aunt Walburga is doing now, but I’m certain it’s no good for him.”
“It certainly doesn’t sound like a good situation for him to be in.”
“Regulus can handle it,” she said, though she wasn’t convinced of that herself. He was so young, after all.
“Even so,” Lucius said. “I know my father was quite hard on me when I was young. It – caused some problems.”
“You mean the cocaine?” Narcissa asked.
Lucius stiffened. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, Violet Crabbe rang me,” she said. “Edward’s sister. I mentioned that you’d come to my aunt’s dinner party, and she was kind enough to remind me of your reputation at Eton.”
“Haven’t touched it in ages,” he said. “Honestly.”
“Be that as it may, I think she was trying to warn me about you.”
“She always did have a nasty jealous streak,” Lucius said mildly. “I rather think she’s still bitter that I wouldn’t sleep with her.”
“Do you?” Narcissa asked.
Lucius sipped at his bourbon. “No,” he admitted. “But she does have an extraordinarily large mouth.”
“Well, yes,” Narcissa agreed. “Though I suppose that does explain how you know those bands my cousin is obsessed with.”
Lucius laughed. “They’re not nearly as countercultural as he pretends they are. As I’ve said, I listen to a wide variety of music.”
“I see,” Narcissa said.
“I do,” Lucius insisted. “I’ve even just bought a TLC CD last week.”
Narcissa laughed. “Of course you have.”
“I even bought it on my own accord,” he said. “I think you’ll find I’m full of surprises.”
“And whoever said that I’m not?” Narcissa countered. “I might look like the girls you’re used to dating, but I assure you: you couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions, Mr. Malfoy.”
“Try me,” Lucius said, meeting her gaze and holding it.
Narcissa scoffed and drained her glass of wine. “To start, I’ll take a whisky. Neat.”
Lucius smirked. “Coming right up.”
“Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll get to see your house tonight,” she said.
“If I’m lucky?” he repeated.
“I know what I said, Mr. Malfoy.” She stared him down. “I thought I asked for a whisky.”
Lucius Malfoy’s house was about what Narcissa expected. It simply screamed “new money”. It was huge, luxurious, and ostentatious, with marble floors and far too much gold to not be tacky. Some of it seemed a bit dated, but the whole experience was so overwhelming that she wondered how she’d wound up there. Was that a portrait of himself riding a lion? What on Earth…?
It was the zebra print sofa in the sitting room that really pushed her over the edge. It was official. She’d entered the parallel universe the nouveau riche seemed to inhabit, full of gross misconceptions of the aristocracy and good taste. It was a wonder the nouveau riche ever seemed to have any money left with what they spent it on.
She took off her Louboutins and accepted the glass of bourbon he offered her as she reclined on said tacky sofa. He put on the stereo, though Narcissa didn’t know the song or the artist.
“So what do you do?” she asked, tucking her legs underneath herself.
He turned to face her. “I’m in banking,” he said. “I know – it’s a terribly boring day job, but it’s what my father wants, and it’s easier than trying to argue.” He took a sip of his bourbon before replying. “What about you?”
“Currently, I’m working on setting up a charity to help children with cancer,” she said.
“How very Lady Di of you.”
Narcissa laughed. “It seemed an obvious choice. I don’t know. I’m taking the year off to decide what I want to do – I can continue with charity, easily, but perhaps I might like to go back to school.”
“What would you study, if you did?” he asked.
“I thought I’d continue with Classics.”
“Classics?” Lucius repeated.
“Yes,” Narcissa said. “You know, Greeks and Romans. Much of it’s terribly male-centred, of course, but there’s a certain beauty to Greek and Latin both. You can express things that you simply can’t in English. It’s like stepping into a completely different world.”
“It sounds to me,” he said, “as if you really love it.”
“I do,” she said.
“Then why are you taking a year off?” he challenged.
Narcissa rolled her eyes. “I noticed that Regulus’s phone calls were getting longer and longer, and he’s always been very easy for me to read. If I’m in London and I don’t have to worry about coursework or exams… it’ll be easier. Just until he’s at university.”
“You must care for him a lot,” Lucius said.
“I do,” Narcissa said. “I don’t want to put my entire life on hold for him, but – charity provides a nice middle ground. Besides, it’s not as if starting a charity will look bad. I think my parents would quite prefer it to furthering my education.”
“Then that’s their mistake,” Lucius said. “I don’t see why you can’t do both. You seem quite capable.”
“You have no idea how capable I am,” Narcissa said. She sipped at her whisky. “For one, you do realise that we’ve had about the same to drink and yet you’re far drunker than I am?”
Luicus smirked. “And yet you’ve not taken advantage of me yet.”
“Be patient,” she said. “I want to finish my drink first.”