InsaneJournal

[Fic] Contrasts (Narcissa/Severus, NC-17)
Title: Contrasts
Author: Envinyatar (aka envinyatar15)
Pairing: Narcissa/Severus, not-quite background Lily/Severus
Rating: NC-17
Highlight for Warnings: *adultery, fantasising during sex, pretense, bathroom!sex*
Canon-compliance: up to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
Word Count: 2,276
Summary: Severus wasn't what Lily wanted while Lily was everything Severus wanted, and Narcissa wasn't what Severus wanted but she was all he seemed to be allowed to have.

Notes: For the September/October pairing challenge at snape_rarepairs. This fic, for all that it's quite short, was a bitch to write, and it's only thanks to zebraspots05 that it has turned out somewhat readable at all - even though belated. As always, my eternal gratitude goes to her for beta'ing!

Inspired by Robert Frost's "Ice and Fire", as quoted below.

For 10_whores: #01 navigation, 50scenes: #08 temptation, challenge_the: #115 lust


Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

*~*~*

Severus was bored out of his mind.

Sometimes, especially in situations such as these, he wondered why he had decided to join the Dark Lord; wondered why he'd ever taken the Dark Mark when everything he seemed to be doing anymore was standing around at damnable, so-called high society parties. Was there anyone at all interested in which Black currently fucked which Lestrange, or Malfoy, or Crabbe, or Goyle, for that matter? Was there anyone interested in which heir of which family was going to marry whose daughter, which family was currently losing their fortune or which person was losing their mind?

For Severus, the answer was a clear no. He was a man of action. His dislike for social gatherings was widely known, but still he found himself attending the rather spectactular – and at that he sneered, for he found it nothing more than showy – engagement party of his old friends, Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black.

Malfoy Manor was, Severus thought, a rather grand house for a family that was so small in numbers, but he guessed that didn't really matter, did it? It wasn't about what was needed; it was all about power and reducing anyone with less to a quivering mass of worship and fear upon laying eyes on the magnificence that the Malfoys represented. Which in itself wasn't what Severus objected to, for the house was indeed quite something, but this show of wealth was rather too much for his sense of subtlety. Then again, the Malfoys had never really been known for finesse, had they? Not in matters such as these, at least.

Lily, though... Lily's engagement party would have been different. Less grand. Less impersonal. Less cold.

It would have been a small, homely, welcoming dinner party, with just her closest friends.

Without him.

But Severus didn't want to think about that. He was determined to push Lily from his mind, once for all; for she hadn't understood him, not really, and had betrayed him in the end in the worst way possible. Had chosen the Potter boy over him, of all people, when she could have done so much better. Severus would have forgiven her for many thing, but not for that. She'd made him trust her, and he'd handed her the knife she twisted in his gut.

Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it...

But he couldn't stop. He needed a distraction, and there was only one option if he didn't want to be drawn into conversation: liquor would be the night's companion. Of course, the Malfoys being what they were, the evening's drink was Danziger Goldwasser, the gold sparkling in the intimate half-dark of the ballroom.

The only hope Severus had for the Malfoy-Black union was that Narcissa's Black-blood would add some much-needed sophistication to the family. That the Malfoys had only recently come to their wealth clearly showed.

And amidst the sparkle and riches Severus drank and mingled. In his case that mostly meant drawing back into a corner and watching the other attendees. It was all he could do not think about her – and if he learnt something useful in the meantime, who was he to complain? Perhaps there would be a snippet of information that would prove valuable to the Dark Lord's cause as the evening progressed and the atmosphere became more loose. For as formal as these parties started, they almost always ended in an alcohol-driven orgy. Well, more or less anyway. It wasn't visible, but the keen watcher would pick up the signs.

Severus had learnt as much.

Severus sneered. Love meant nothing to those people, but to him it meant the world. To be approved of. To be accepted. To fit in. Even though sometimes, he didn't know whether he even wanted that anymore. Too vivid was the image of a woman with bright red hair in his mind; too fresh still, after three years, the wound her rejection had cut.

I don't love you, Severus, I couldn't... Not like this...

He poured himself another drink, gulped it back, poured another and another. After four such shots he was beginning to feel lighter, not as tense as before and ready to sit back and relax.

Ready to cut her out of his mind once again.

“Brooding, Severus?” the woman of the evening breathed in his ear, and Severus almost jumped out of his skin - his heart certainly did. Slowly he turned around to face her, annoyed at having been disturbed. Narcissa should know better than to approach him. He'd paid her and her soon-to-be husband his respect. That should have been enough to get him off for the night. Apparently not, though.

His sharp retort, however, died on his tongue and was buried in his throat as he inhaled forcefully with blown nostrils. He had not been prepared for her nearness – had not been prepared for her cold beauty, her low-cut cleavage and the display of her breasts and hips and legs, almost bordering on obscene, all of which had not seemed as obvious before. He'd known Narcissa for a long time, but he had never looked at her this closely - there'd had only been one woman for him. But now, with thoughts of her in mind and the knowledge that she wasn't his and wouldn't ever be, he finally did look.

Narcissa could not have been more different from Lily's warmth, a heat that had almost burnt him when he'd been around her. Narcissa was ice where Lily was fire. Narcissa was crisp where Lily was soft.

Narcissa was controlled where Lily was... anything but.

In short, Narcissa was all that Lily wasn't, as Severus realised in that moment of absolute clarity that alcohol sometimes brought with it. Severus knew that the Muggles had a saying for that: it's the children and the drunk that speak the truth, and right then... he was inclined to agree.

He stared at her for what seemed like an eternity, holding her gaze and his breath. He knew his sudden desire was clearly visible in his eyes, knew that the half-dark of the room didn't do anything to hide it – nor did he try to.

Narcissa saw and understood it all. She slowly licked her lips, and the excited answering glitter in her blue eyes was all he needed to know. He didn't know why she'd chosen him, but it didn't matter. Narcissa embraced the darkness that was part of him in a way that Lily would have never been able to, forever the do-gooder that she was.

Perhaps he'd been mistaken. Perhaps it was indeed ice he needed, not fire as he'd always thought.

Severus stood, raised himself to his full height. Eventually he answered her question. “Not brooding, no,” he murmured, voice hoarse with lust, and Narcissa replied by turning around and walking out the door and down the corridor, beckoning him to follow.

He complied. Down the hallway they went, further into the dark – and wasn't that where they belonged – further into the depth of Malfoy Manor. Severus knew what he was about to do; he'd thoroughly debauch that which rightly belonged to Lucius, hopefully forget himself in the process; and were he a lesser man he would quiver now if he hadn't before.

But he wasn't a lesser man, and knowing how painful Lucius' revenge would be if he ever found out about this night didn't cause Severus' erection to deflate. No, the danger drew him, and if possible it excited him even more – the forbidden had always called to him.

It did so now, urgently, and he didn't have it in him to deny his hunger satisfaction – not tonight. From behind, he grabbed Narcissa by the arm, opened the first door to the right – which turned out to lead to a small dimly-lit bathroom – and pushed them through, closing the door behind them. He was upon Narcissa the next instant, pulling her to him, kissing, biting, sucking. The force of his attack pushed her back against the sink, and she had to brace herself with both arms not to be bent over it backwards in her desire to meet his tongue's every thrust.

Still, this wasn't quick enough, wasn't good enough; was simply not enough to drive the image of red hair and green eyes from behind his closed eyelids. He forced them open, broke away from the demanding movements underneath his and spun Narcissa around, desperate to forget what until now he had been unable to do.

This was his only chance.

Narcissa was, by far, not a puppet in his hands, as she let him know through the defiant glare she was sending him via the mirror, even though she complied. Her hard eyes met his and he drank her in, swollen lips and tousled hair, thinking yes, this might just be it.

“Get on with it,” she said into the silence, and he jumped to action. He pushed up the hem of her dress and aside her panties, and she was wet and warm and perfect for him already, spreading her legs for him; never mind that perfect for him was someone else, but he couldn't have that someone, and no he wasn't thinking about her at all at that moment, he really wasn't.

So he freed himself, because he wasn't thinking of her and didn't need distraction, didn't need that cunt offered freely to him because it was anything but hers. He positioned himself at Narcissa's entrance, his eyes now firmly locked with hers through the mirror – and it wasn't fire that greeted him there, no, of course not; it was ice, and it froze as it burnt its way down to his gut.

Everything was fire, fire all along, however you twisted it.

He bent her over the sink even more and then pushed inside, powerfully, sheathing himself inside her until his balls touched her from behind, and he didn't hold still as he saw the gasp of pain escape her mouth – because she wasn't who she ought to be if she was burning him, and she needed to be punished for that. He needed to forget who she was, who he was, but still he couldn't break eye contact.

He slammed into her, and Narcissa's face contorted with every thrust, telling a story of pain that was immediately belied by the moan that slipped free from her throat.

Severus almost paused there, because he realised this wasn't what he'd wanted after all, he knew that now; not like this. He was using Narcissa, and even though she was willing – more than willing – it wasn't enough. This was why Lily couldn't love him.

But it was too late, she was pushing back against him, and if he got rid of her now she'd send her husband after him. The marks he'd left on her hips would speak a plain enough language.

His rhythm was carefully controlled now, powerful strokes that he had to force out of himself and into her. But his eyes he could not control, and when finally Narcissa threw back her head and moaned loudly, her throat exposed, he could finally look away from her, eyes closed. His body did not seem to want to finish this the way it ought to, the spark was gone; so when Lily's image crept up again in his imagination, he did not fight it. He imagined thrusting into her and how she would meet him, how she would feel around him, wet and hot and tight and willing, and his desire was back and then he knew he was close, so close. He reached around Lily's - Narcissa's - Lily's body, touched her in a desperate attempt to make her feel all that he felt, thrust into her one last time, and was gone as her muscles contracted around him.

It took a moment for Severus to come back to himself. He'd slumped against Narcissa's back as his legs had given out from under him, but now she was squirming underneath the dead weight that pushed her into the sink. He barely caught himself when she shoved him away violently, almost tripping over his own feet - that he suddenly remembered all that had transpired and with whom especially really didn't help any. Fool.

He didn't look at her as tucked himself back into his trousers and zipped up, then rearranged his dress robes. When finally he couldn't pretend to fuss over his clothes any longer he met her gaze, as steadily as he could - which would have been remarkably steady for anyone else but was quite shaky for him. He prayed she wouldn't notice.

The small smile on Narcissa's face was unexpected, to say the least.

Her hand already rested on the doorknob. "Goodnight, Severus. We will see you at the wedding, I expect?" she asked, voice normal, but she didn't wait for an answer; already she was out the door, her dress and hair perfectly straightened. Nothing on her looked out of the ordinary.

Except everything had changed, now. Narcissa was everything Lily wasn't and Lily was everything Narcissa wasn't, and Severus wasn't what Lily wanted while Lily was everything Severus wanted, and Narcissa wasn't what Severus wanted but she was all he seemed to be allowed to have. Everything was tangled now, twisted together in a heap of confusion when before it had been straight and easy: Severus wanted Lily. Lily didn't want Severus.

There was a bitter taste in his mouth as dizziness overtook him, and he slumped down the wall, hands in front of his eyes and head resting on his knees.

Love would be the death of him yet.