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[Fic] Shadows in Light and Dark (Narcissa, others, R)
Title: Shadows in Light and Dark
Author: Envinyatar (aka envinyatar15)
Characters: Narcissa, Andromeda, Bellatrix, Lucius, Harry, Voldemort, Draco
Rating: R
Highlight for Warnings: *ungraphic sexual activities, including adultery, threesomes and rough sex, featuring Totally Obvious Canon Pairings.*
Canon-compliance: up to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
Word Count: 3,013
Summary: In times of war everyone has to choose sides. In the aftermath it might not be the one you would have seen yourself leaning to previously, but the intuitive decision of the moment, drawn from a mix of hope and desperation, often has a way of being the ultimately right one.

Notes: Written for the femgenficathon 2007 - the post in the community can be found here. My prompt: #15 You can no more win a war than you can win an earthquake. -- Jeannette Rankin. Many thanks and much love to zebraspots05 for listening to my gradual panicking and putting up with all the crappy drafts I threw at her. And, naturally, for her amazing beta job. There is some dialogue you will recognise, which is taken from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, pp. 563-564 and 580-581 British hardcover edition, thusly totally not written by me.

For 50scenes: #23 meditate, challenge_the: #168 change


“No sign of him, my Lord,” said Dolohov as he and Yaxley rejoined the circle around the fire in the middle of a clearing in the Forbidden Forest.

The Dark Lord's expression didn't change, but his anger was palpable. Things weren't going as planned. Narcissa knew that look, that atmosphere around the Dark Lord well by now: he was displeased.

“My Lord – “ said Bella, surely in another futile attempt to calm him, and Narcissa couldn't help but wonder from where her sister took her seemingly unending trust in the Dark Lord's cause. Before Bella could finish, however, her master had already silenced her with a raised hand.

Narcissa was disgusted at the pitiful worship she read on her sister's expression.

“I thought he would come,” said the Dark Lord, voice tightly controlled, eyes on the flames. “I expected him to come.”

Silence followed that statement. The other members of the circle stood frozen with fear. Would the Dark Lord punish one of their midst? Would he hold them at fault?

“I was, it seems... mistaken.” A collective sharp intake of breath followed. This was... new, this admission, and even though it wasn't the first of its kind, it seemed almost out of character. Too human for someone looking so much like a snake.

"You weren't,” came the voice from just outside the ring of light the fire cast, as if right on cue; as if the boy, Potter, had waited for the Dark Lord to say just those words.

Narcissa felt sick, closed her eyes. It shouldn't have come to this. Only as old as Draco, though he was, Harry's determination reminded her of another person, a woman she had been very close to.

Harry Potter, the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived, gave as little consideration for anyone else's opinion on what was right and proper as Andromeda Black had done.

*~*~*

It was Lucius who told her that her sister had taken a Muggle lover. Narcissa didn't want to believe it at first, but deep inside she knew it could be true – Lucius had connections that far outreached her own, explaining how he could know when she didn't; and Narcissa knew her sister. Andromeda always thought what she wanted and did what she wanted, and if she wanted a Muggle... she would have a Muggle, whatever her family would do as a consquence.

It wasn't that Andromeda didn't care about her family; no, indeed, she cared deeply about them. She had grown up a Black, had ingested the family mottos – a Black is strong, a Black is powerful, a Black is well-mannered, a Black is truthful to his or her blood, a Black's first allegiance lies with the family – just like the rest of them.

What Andromeda never understood, however, was that being truthful to one's blood meant steering clear from any association endangering its purity. Impurity equaled weakness and powerlessness, and these were two traits never, in any form or impliance, applied to the Black family, not in blood, character or connections.

Blacks who failed to understand this were formally disowned and separated from the family. Narcissa thought it was the right thing to do. Pride was not a failing when it came to the Blacks; it was a necessity. Those who weren't proud of who and what they were were soon discharged from the upper circle of the pureblood families, and that was something the family couldn't afford. They were an old family, true, but slowly losing their wealth, which, of course, no one knew who wasn't tightly bound to them.

Narcissa had been inwardly cheering when her dear cousin, that rebel Sirius, had been burnt off the family tree. He wasn't worthy of his last name, had never shown any pride in his ancestry beyond parading around Hogwarts as if he owned it. Regulus was different, and she was glad for it. When Lucius, however, told her of Andromeda's unfortunate choice of lovers with his mouth and of the consequences with his eyes, she wasn't cheering. She wasn't cheering at all.

Andromeda had been the one to teach Narcissa everything she knew. It had been her to guide Narcissa through the first couple of years at Hogwarts, when she'd been missing the security of home, where she as the youngest had been pampered so much that she felt uncertain in an environment where she had to stand up for herself. It had been her to save Narcissa from Bella's cruel taunting. It had been her to make Narcissa strong. How could it be that this Andromeda now turned her back on the family? How could she betray them like that? Betray her?

Narcissa didn't understand it, but she had always suspected Andromeda of having relations that weren't fitting for someone of her blood status at Hogwarts; she'd never sought confirmation, though. She hadn't wanted to know, and besides, hadn't they all had their youthful indiscretions? Narcissa hadn't thought anything of her sister's supposed choice of bed partners at that time, innocent and naive as she was at first, or later assuming it was mere lust that couldn't be controlled.

If one thought about it quite thoroughly now, taking everything into consideration, it wasn't that far-fetched that perhaps her older sister had fallen in love with a Muggle, too.

Although she felt obligated to tell her mother, Narcissa didn't say anything to the family. She wanted her sister with her long enough to say goodbye. Lucius would take care of informing everyone, and while Narcissa didn't want to agree with her husband that it was necessary she knew it couldn't be any other way. The Blacks would lose their connections if they let Andromeda stay with them, and their connections were what they relied upon now that money was short.

It was the right decision, but that didn't mean that right decisions couldn't hurt.

The sisters' goodbye was a tearful one, knowing this separation would likely last a lifetime.

*~*~*

Narcissa recognised the determination in Potter's eyes and his stance, and in that he wasn't unlike her Draco, her little dragon.

She also recognised how lost young Potter was in the face of Voldemort, how he dismissed all of the Death Eaters as almost not worthy of his attention, and in that he wasn't unlike Bellatrix.

Narcissa quietly stared in fascination as the boy didn't react to the shouts erupting around him, then how he did react to the half-giant's exasperated yell. Still, his face didn't fall, and Narcissa stored away this fact - the boy was an excellent actor, more likely than not having gone through a hard education, from what she'd heard.

Then silence descended and everyone stopped breathing, save for the flames' crackling and the snake's hissing and Bella's quiet gasping.

*~*~*

Bella was the oldest sister, dark where Narcissa was fair, direct and almost tactless where Narcissa was delicate. Bella never paid respect to anyone she didn't respect, never did what anyone told her if she didn't want it, and in that she wasn't unlike Andromeda. Still, there was a significant difference between the two sisters: Andromeda was well-mannered and polite, even if it sometimes was only an act. Not Bella, though; never Bella. It wasn't that she didn't possess manners and good breeding; it was that she didn't find them useful, or fascinating , or any such of these ideas in her head that Narcissa always failed to understand. For Bellatrix and Narcissa, albeit both believing in the importance of blood, did so for very different reasons.

Blood was Bella's religion, and the Dark Lord her god.

Blood wasn't more than a rank in society for Narcissa. She didn't necessarily believe that Purebloods were more skillful than Halfbloods or Mudbloods, but she did want to protect her world - her rank - and mixing with Muggles would just lead to the destruction of the wizarding society. Muggles and their descendants didn't know the first thing about manners, politics, money, and those were what Narcissa believed in.

In all truthfulness, in retrospect Bella had been the first to choose estrangement from her sisters, not Andromeda, although at the time it had seemed different.

*~*~*

The boy and the Dark Lord stood facing each other, looking, contemplating, sizing each other up. The crackling fire was a fitting background, illustrating the eerie, tense atmosphere like nothing else could have done.

Then the Dark Lord tilted his head with a cruel smile on his mouth and spoke, so softly that Narcissa almost didn't hear it. "Harry Potter. The boy who lived."

The following silence was only broken by Bella's unmistakeable pants. Narcissa looked at her sister, the sickness she had been feeling since Potter had come out of the shadows growing. Bella's worship of her Lord, her obvious arousal at the meeting of two such powerful wizards and the violence this promised, was a reminder of just how far she was gone after so many years in Azkaban.

The Dark Lord raised his wand. For a few seconds he held it there, and Narcissa dared to hope; then the world as she had known it exploded in a flash of green light.

*~*~*

When Narcissa married Lucius she knew he was a Death Eater, and she didn't object to this at all. The two of them were quite the fabulous couple: both loved power, and while they didn't revel in torture and death, they did accept it as means to ensure they stay in power – as close to power as a follower of the Dark Lord could get, anyway; which was significantly closer than trying by oneself.

When Draco was born, however, the question of security became more important to the young mother. While power certainly still was important, the work for the Dark Lord became less so. What her husband had to do, and she herself occasionally, was anything but safe. Stability was not to be had; working in politics became increasingly dangerous, too, if one wasn't out in the field, questioning, torturing, murdering.

To be truthful, Narcissa wasn't unhappy when the Dark Lord fell.

The following years were spent doting on her son and talking business with her husband – and yes, insofar they weren't really the typical Pureblood couple, for they shared their thoughts on many a matter and relied on each other. They didn't love each other, but they did feel affection.

Friendship with sex, Bella had called it once before her nephew had been born, to which Narcissa had countered, and you? Sex without friendship? Bella had only laughed and swept up her hair, showing her neck to her sister. The bite marks visible there had made Narcissa shudder. Decorum means nothing to you, does it, and that hadn't been a question.

Still, she had caught herself thinking about carnal lust and the things she might be able to feel, and Narcissa herself threw decorum to the wind when she took the gardener to bed only days later. Lucius didn't even seem to mind, for when he caught them he'd laughed and taken to fucking the boy himself, thrusting into him thrusting into her.

After having Obliviated the gardener they had lain together and gone back to talking business.

It had been a glorious night, the first of its kind, and they hadn't ended when Lucius had decided it was time for a heir. He certainly didn't share her anymore, but Lucius was more than capable of satisfying his wife himself, and his hunger matched her own. Whereas most husbands absented themselves from the marriage-bed as soon as their wife was with child, Lucius loved taking her in every position possible, and afterwards, playing with her growing belly.

It was wondrous, how they had grown to long for each other simply because of one little remark from Bella.

Still, her husband wasn't the most important thing in her life; her son was. And for him, she was glad the Dark Lord was dead. She had seen what happened to too many children not to fear for her own – some lost their parents, some got lost for the cause, Regulus among them, as the rumours suggested.

Too many of them had been too young.

Narcissa mourned her sister when she was sent to Azkaban. She had been the last constant in her life, someone who could teach her something if she deemed it fun enough. Their relationship, in the years since Narcissa had left Hogwarts, had been different from before, for Narcissa had learnt to hold her ground and not be hurt by her sister's remarks. They weren't close, but they were there for each other.

That was what Narcissa missed. Power had a way of being a cold partner, and while Narcissa's bed rarely remained so she felt she needed company, someone she could be open with and share her worries with; someone not male. However, the gossiping wives of other influential Pureblood politicians were nice, but also rather dull for someone with such a sharp intellect as Narcissa. She could not say anything that might, in any way, discredit Lucius, for he was hated by too many – if anyone would ever find out anything personal, they would use it against him.

Instead, she took to meting out well-disguised jabs at Mrs. Nott or Mrs. Parkinson, amusing herself with how her words were admired not for what they really meant but for what they apparently said. It was a cruel hobby, true, but Narcissa didn't care about that. She was bored and needed a distraction from everyday life at home – quiet as it had become since Draco had moved on to Hogwarts.

Distraction, when it finally came, came too soon. Her life came to a sudden stand-still when one night Lucius' Mark glowed after almost a decade and a half. It wasn't that they hadn't anticipated it would come to this and prepared for it, for the Mark had been becoming stronger for the past year – still, her last hopes that it would not happen were crushed. Reality had a harsh way of making itself known.

*~*~*

There were no cheers of triumph when Harry Potter, the boy who lived to get killed, hit the earth, dead. Rather, the air was filled with the sound of a collective gasp – then many Death Eaters hurried to where their Lord had fallen the same instance Potter had.

Narcissa wasn't among them. The scene playing out before her eyes was too surreal to be true – she couldn't quite believe it. She stood staring dumbly, surveying the happenings with unseeing eyes, coldness creeping up her limbs. She preferred not to be close to the Dark Lord – please let him be dead – and her worrying sister anyway, as she imagined the dead eyes of her son staring up at her, accusation clear in them.

The next happenings drowned in the sound of water rushing in her ears. Her horror and panic only receded when the pain of a hex thrown at her momentarily overrode everything else. "You. Examine him. Tell me whether he is dead."

Narcissa blinked, then it dawned on her what the Dark Lord wanted. She slowly set into motion and approached the body cautiously. Kneeling beside him, she checked his eyes and the heartbeat. She was at the same time surprised and not surprised to find it still beating steadily, but relief over the possibility of still finding a way to get to her son stopped all questions in her mind. Hope is the very essence of life, someone had once said. If you have no hope, you might as well be dead. Narcissa would make sure it wouldn't come to that. She took care that her hair fell over both of their faces while she examined him. It gave them the necessary privacy.

Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?

When the answer came – a breathed yes – Narcissa thought she had never been as happy as she was in that moment. The eventual outcome of this confrontation – and thus, the war itself – was still unclear, but hope had been returned to her, something she hadn't dared allow herself since Lucius' capture and her and her son's – and her own – subsequent punishment.

Her decision was made.

"He is dead!"

Cheers erupted around her, and Narcissa's mouth broke into a grin. For the first time in two years she felt true joy.

*~*~*

The events after that she can't clearly remember, now that she's sitting in the Great Hall with her husband and son, huddled together and uncertain of their future. Severus is dead, it's confirmed now, as is his treason; but Narcissa can't care less about that. He did what he had deemed necessary to protect the one he had loved, and who is Narcissa not to understand that? She has chosen the same path, after all.

She will remember Severus with fondness and sadness, for he was there for her when there had been no one else to turn to.

She will remember Bella differently, not with quite as much fondness, but still sadness; for as much as they have grown apart in the end, they were sisters, and that's a bond no one can break.

Who else is there? The Dark Lord is dead, and she and her family are free of his reign after all. Draco has survived, Lucius has survived, and she will be reunited with Andromeda.

Narcissa is relieved, but as with all things there are two sides to this particular coin.

The pureblood's status will fall, she knows it. They will continue to be influential due to their wealth, but in time... They will intermarry with Halfblood families and the old bloodlines will get lost. Tradition will be lost. Change will come knocking on the wizarding world's door – she can already hear it approach.

The prospect is not a joyous one, but right now she couldn't care less. She will take care of that tomorrow, and tomorrow will come, whether she wants it to or not.

When the time comes, she will be prepared for it, just as she has always been.