WHO: Lucius Malfoy & Narcissa Black WHAT: Co-prefecting WHEN: 1990 - '93 WHERE: Hogwarts & Hogsmeade
The Hogwarts Express was bustling and Narcissa was meant to be inside the prefects’ compartment, introducing herself to the other prefects and Head students as a brand new prefect, but one thing was stopping her.
Lucius Malfoy and the gleaming prefect badge pinned to his jumper.
In the back of Narcissa’s mind, she’d always known it would come to this. In fact, when she’d opened her Hogwarts owl for the year and found the badge it very nearly became an undeniable fact. She and Lucius were the best of the best — though, Narcissa was convinced, she was always the better of the two. That was why Lucius was Narcissa’s chosen adversary. Like her, he was smart, charming, and good looking, albeit, unlike her, annoyingly so on all three fronts. It made sense that Professor Slughorn would want them to lead the students of Slytherin house to greatness.
What didn’t make sense, though, was why it was happening to her.
Several different emotions played across her face before she decided on tossing her hair and lifting her chin defiantly. “I guess congratulations are in order.”
He had almost sighed when his worst suspicions were confirmed upon seeing Narcissa Black, prefect badge and all. When he'd received his letter (as well as the badge he knew would be his, as if anyone else deserved it more than him), he'd held out futile hope that it wouldn't be Narcissa. He reasoned that just because she was somehow in everyone else's good graces, it didn't mean she would be the first choice. It was, and he knew it as soon as he thought it, a hopeless cause. Narcissa Black was a prefect and that meant he'd have to work with her — he'd have to patrol with her! For the entire year. It was almost too much to consider.
"Thank you," Lucius said, biting back an additional, I suppose. "I was the only possible choice." He deliberately waited a beat. "Congratulations to you too."
Social niceties dictated that she say, “Thank you,” the corners of her mouth tugged into a tight smile. This was a nightmare. “You know this means we’re going to be working closely together. For the next three years.” Her tone indicated just how long she thought those years were going to be.
The smile he had forced onto his face dropped. While he'd resigned himself to one year, he'd forgotten that it would be three years. And even when he became Head Boy, she'd still be a prefect, so he'd still have to be around her. "I don't know why they thought this was a good idea," he blurted out. "We don't get along well enough for that."
Her eyes widened, just a bit, to hear Lucius question the decision. But after a beat, her expression shifted to one of sympathy and she reached out to just barely tap the air around his shoulder, drawing her hand back quickly. “I can handle it,” she said, “but I’ll understand if you need to turn in your badge because you can’t.”
"Oh, I can handle it," Lucius scoffed. "I'm more worried about you."
“I already said I could,” Narcissa shot back, bristling with annoyance already.
"Pardon me for doubting it," he retorted, although he had nothing to indicate that she couldn't. One of the reasons why he'd never liked her was because she could handle everything. Was it so hard to act as if something was difficult once in a while?
Another prefect squeezed by them, pulling a very obvious face of amusement as he slid into the prefects’ compartment for the meeting. Narcissa realized they’d been stood there for far too long, especially when she heard: “Where are the other Slytherins?” “Out there.” “Who is it?” She didn’t hear him say their names, but she did hear the resulting laughter.
“Well,” Narcissa said, drawing herself to her full height, her fingertips finding the cool metal of her new badge. She glanced down quickly to make sure it was straight before looking at his. “Your badge is crooked.” She gave him another tight smile before opening the compartment door and sweeping inside.
By the time his eyes darted down to his badge (not crooked and very polished), Narcissa had already disappeared inside the compartment. He scowled at nothing in particular and counted to three before he opened the door. Lucius had a feeling he'd have to do that a lot this year.
*
He'd gotten to their agreed-upon meeting spot — the ugly couch in the corner — twenty minutes early, in the hopes that he could make Narcissa believe that she was late. Opening the book he'd brought along (for show), he sat down and tried to look like he'd been here far longer than he had. Every few seconds, he would look up to see if the noise he heard was her walking towards him.
Lucius was startled when he looked up another time and saw Narcissa standing in front of him, but, he was certain, he hid it well. "There you are," he said, closing his book. "I've been waiting."
Narcissa raised an eyebrow. “Have you? I’m fifteen minutes early,” she replied, lifting her wrist to double-check the time. It hadn’t occurred to her yet that he was being a prat. “Your watch must be malfunctioning.”
Of course she had a watch. He'd forgotten that detail. But it didn't matter, not really, even if he was annoyed with himself for overlooking such a crucial part of his plan. He'd just have to try again next time. "I've wondered if it's been faster than it should be," he said, glancing at his watch and pretending to inspect it. "Are you ready to go?"
“Yes,” she said, though she wasn’t really prepared to spend so much time with Lucius. “Unless you want to get in some more reading?” She gestured at his book.
He thought about it briefly. It would be a good opportunity to make Narcissa wait while he "read" his book, but, "If we start early, we can finish early." The unspoken then we don't have to spend more time than we need to together was clear. He stood up and gestured for her to walk ahead of him. "Where should we start?"
There was something offputting about walking ahead of him, so she glanced over her shoulder at him as she made her way to the exit and then again a few steps further. “I was thinking the corridor first,” she said, aiming a smug smile over her shoulder at him. She reached the door first and held it open for him, gesturing for him to walk ahead now.
Lucius nodded his head at her as he walked through, wondering if he should be suspicious of that. He shook the thought away, because even that felt more paranoid than he wanted to entertain. The corridor was empty, dimly light, and he resisted the urge to check his watch. It had barely been a minute. He couldn't fathom what led him to start talking, except that he rather disliked the silence between them. "How was your day?"
“What?” It came out sharper than she’d meant it to, but it was startling question.
"It's not a difficult question," he muttered. "How was your day today?"
“I know it —” she started before squaring her shoulders. After that, her tone was all business. “My day was fine.” This was where she would ask the same of him, but her mouth felt suddenly dry and uncooperative. Slowly, “How was yours?”
"It was also fine," Lucius said stiffly, his eyes focused on the length of the corridor ahead of them. "Except Patrick Hannigan spilled his pumpkin juice on me earlier." It had happened quickly too, as the Hufflepuff had left his table and walked right into Lucius while stupidly carrying his goblet. He didn't expect much from halfbloods, but the least they could do was watch their step.
Narcissa looked askance at him, unsure if he expected her to be sympathetic to him or not. After a too long moment, she cleared her throat. “Well, that sounds sticky.”
"It wasn't very pleasant." He felt the need to offer some advice. "Be sure to avoid him. He could be targeting people."
Now she turned to look at him directly, careful to keep plenty of space between them so she didn’t bump into him while she walked. “All right,” she said uncertainly as she faced the corridor again.
A very long moment passed in silence, their footfalls against the stone the only sound. If she strained her ears, she thought she could hear someone or something, but when she realized it was a dirty limerick sing-songed from several corridors over, she realized it was also only Peeves entertaining himself. Her cheeks flushed.
To drown Peeves out, she said, a bit louder than necessary, “So, I think if we find any rule breakers I should be the good hitwizard and you should be the bad one.”
Lucius wasn't prone to dramatics, but he wanted to make it very clear that the silence was about to kill him. It made him feel uncomfortable, which made him act uncomfortably, and had his arms always swung so loudly? When Narcissa finally said something, he almost sighed in relief. "Why am I the bad one? No one would believe that."
“They’d be even less likely to believe me,” she said, breathing out a laugh.
"I'd believe it," he said. "They don't know that you'd deliberately sabotage my Potions project just to take pleasure in it."
Narcissa was no longer amused. “What are you talking about? What Potions project?”
He faltered. He'd been sure that she would've remembered, since it'd been such a big deal to him. "The last one we did last year. When my bat wings mysteriously disappeared."
“You think I took your bat wings?” She stared at him for a moment and then, scoffed. “Forget no one believing you’d be the bad one. I doubt anyone would believe you were a hitwizard at all.”
That was unfair. He had a solid case for it. Crossing his arms, Lucius added a firm defiance into his voice. "Who else would stoop that low?"
“I’m sure you’ve made several enemies here at school.” She crossed her arms, too. “Ask them.”
"I've thought about it and I don't see any reason for them to do this. That only leaves you." He tried not to glare too accusingly.
Unfortunately, his glare was still accusatory and far too accusatory for her liking. She quickened her steps just enough to wheel around and stop right in front of him. “Listen, Malfoy,” she said, her eyes flashing and her chin raised stubbornly. “When I beat you I do it on my own merit.”
"I'd believe that if you meant your own merit and a safeguard," he countered, standing tall and making sure he didn't look like he was backing down. "You won't admit it, but I know the truth."
“You don’t know anything,” she shot back, balling her hands into fists where she had them tucked under her arms still. “I didn’t steal your bat wings.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to admit to it,” Lucius sneered, more willing to level a more accusatory glare at her this time. If she was going to fight against it, despite it being the truth, he was allowed the same move. “It would —” He was interrupted by a quiet, muffled crash that stopped him from going further. Immediately, his attention turned toward the noise, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
Gesturing to Narcissa to follow, he crept closer, clearing his throat when he saw their culprit: Louisa Pike, a Gryffindor from the year below them. “It’s past curfew, Pike.”
If they hadn’t been on rounds, Narcissa might’ve bristled at the gesture to follow, but she’d heard the crash, too. She stepped around Lucius to stand at his side, unballing her fists and letting some of the tension out of her arms. She lowered her voice. “What are you doing here?”
The Gryffindor’s eyes darted between the two of them. “I-I thought I left my Potions notes down here.”
It was a nice try, but barely believable. “Likely story,” he said, maybe puffing out his chest more to display his badge. “You can try again.”
“No, I swear,” Louisa insisted. “I had class today and I forget them and — and you can ask —” But she seemed to realize anyone they could ask was back in Gryffindor. She was in the dungeons.
“I believe you,” Narcissa said softly, glancing at the door they were stood in front of. “But the Potions classroom is three doors down and Professor Slughorn always locks the door at the end of the day to stop people stealing.”
"It still sounds suspect to me," Lucius declared, his voice a loud contrast to Narcissa's. "You obviously know the rules, otherwise you wouldn't be sneaking out after hours, but you'd still risk them to retrieve notes? What are you really hiding?"
“Nothing!” Louisa’s voice was suddenly squeaky and she was looking everywhere but at the two prefects before her. “I swear!”
Narcissa nudged Lucius’ foot with hers and, once she had his attention, tilted her head towards the nearby door. “It’s just that we’re going to have to tell Professor McGonagall,” she was saying, her voice sympathetic and understanding. “This seems like an awful lot of trouble for Potions notes.”
He was lucky that he understood what Narcissa meant when she directed his attention to the door. Using her conversation with Louisa as his chance, Lucius edged towards the door as stealthily as possible before — probably unnecessarily — flinging it open, only to reveal Anita Peterson gasping in surprise. Triumphantly, he whirled back to Louisa, who was blushing furiously in the wake of her revealed lie, and said, "I knew it. Better luck next time, Pike."
There was a creeping feeling at the back of Narcissa’s neck. She and Lucius had just worked together. Her face remained sympathetically impassive as she glanced between the two girls. “I think you should both go back to your dorms,” she said with a note of disappointment. “We’ll have to tell your house heads, of course.”
The girls scurried off before Lucius could stop and question them further and it was then that he realized what Narcissa just understood as well. He was silent, unsure of whether he should acknowledge it or not. Even during paired projects, they had trouble working together. "How many points do you think we should take for that?" He finally said, a little awkwardly, not used to asking for Narcissa Black's opinion.
She tried to look at him, but it was suddenly, strangely hard. “Well,” she said, drawing the word out as she both tried to think of an answer and look at him, her eyes on the ceiling. She finally looked at him, though. “I think ten. The professors will probably give them detention. Your badge is crooked.” She gestured at his chest and started walking again, feeling strangely flustered.
Once again, Lucius made the mistake of checking his badge — when, yet again, it was perfect — as Narcissa walked off. In a way, he was thankful for the distance, because then he could use it to forget what had just happened. It was much better that way.
*
After one shouting match in the Great Hall, four meetings with Professor Slughorn, three meetings with Professor Slughorn and Lucius, one meeting with Professor Dumbledore and Lucius, one night of rounds with a prefect from Ravenclaw because they’d argued in Potions class about the bat wings again, one night of rounds with a prefect from Ravenclaw because Nearly Headless Nick found them arguing on rounds, one owl from her mother asking her what was so wrong with the Malfoy boy, one uncomfortable discussion with Madam Pomfrey on the inconvenience of hormones, and hundreds of sighs from both the Head Boy and Girl because despite it all they weren’t bad prefects, Narcissa was ready to wave the white flag of surrender.
It was a new school year and she was turning over a new leaf. But mostly, if she had to do rounds with another speccy, spotty Ravenclaw who smelled like he spent what time he should’ve spent showering in the library instead, she was going to break something valuable.
She was waiting at their — the ugly couch, steeling herself for the most uncomfortable discussion of all. When she saw Lucius coming towards her, she rose to her feet, smoothing her skirt down and giving him her most neutral expression.
Lucius had prepared a speech before he approached her. He was going to tell her that they needed to get along because the previous year had been humiliating enough, but if he had to patrol with Bethany Higgenbotham another time, he was going to strangle her and be done with it. Those patrols had even done the impossible and made him miss patrolling with Narcissa. At least Narcissa didn't babble on and on and on and on about her pet rabbit. That was what he was going to say and if she didn't like it, well — he supposed he couldn't do a thing about it, but at least he'd have said it.
He stopped in front of her and cleared his throat. "We need to talk."
Surprised, she blinked at him for a moment, nearly forgetting her own prepared speech. “I — yes, we do.” She thought about doing the polite thing and letting him go first, but what if he wanted to suggest they switch with the Ravenclaws entirely? Abruptly, “I would like to call a truce. While we’re on rounds.” She held a hand out to him.
But he'd been about to say the same thing, or something close to it. The sentiment was similar. Caught off guard, Lucius could only stare at her hand before remembering his manners and extending his own out and shaking hers. "I was about to propose the same thing. Bethany Higgenbotham makes me want to gouge her eyes out."
It took her a moment to remember to jerk her hand out of his and she promptly linked both of her hands behind her back. She couldn’t believe how easy that had been. She thought about saying something disparaging about the other girl’s surname, but she did not make fun of other people with Lucius Malfoy. Much.
“Mine had body odor,” she said, a delicate wrinkle to her nose.
His nose wrinkled as well. There was only one culprit responsible and Lucius, speaking from experience, knew how difficult it must've been to spend hours with him. "They should remove him as a Prefect and give the badge to someone who has some knowledge of hygiene."
“I,” she said, pausing for a short beat because it felt strange to say to him, “agree.” She glanced at him quickly before looking away. “If he can’t enforce the rules of hygiene with himself, how can they expect him to enforce school rules?”
The way he leaned in, just very slightly, was almost conspiratorial, although it obviously wasn't. It was just best that no one heard it but her. "I think it's a pity appointment. His family's all the wrong sorts."
Narcissa laughed. Quietly and under her breath, but it was a laugh all the same. She leaned in, too, just a bit. “Isn’t that most of them?”
"Valid point," he conceded, only because he hadn't realized what he would be saying. But it wasn't as if it was false. "It's unfortunate Hogwarts doesn't care about the merit system as much as they claim they do."
“No,” she replied, agreeing with him coming easier the second time, “but we — the Slytherin student authority is adequate.” This was said very quickly. She’d nearly said the two of them had been chosen on their merits.
With the self-important tone that always came whenever he was discussing himself, Lucius said, "Slytherin has the best students in the entire school. Choosing us was foolproof." He quickly added, "Because we've proven to be good Prefects." It didn't make it any better.
It was the truce, she reminded herself. But a smile tugged at the corners of her lips anyway. Nevermind that she’d nearly said almost the same thing. “Have we?”
"Of course we have. The professors overreacted," (it was really just one barely louder than normal conversation in front of everyone), "and it's not as if we're not mature," he argued, very sensibly, in his opinion.
“I — we are,” she agreed, quickly correcting herself again. She didn’t know what to say after that because it still felt strange to be having a civil conversation with Lucius Malfoy and, annoyingly, the light from the fire seemed intent on making him look as frustratingly handsome as always. She wished she would at least develop a deformity of some sort. Even a unibrow would help matters.
“You know,” she said, after a quiet moment, “Professor Slughorn is having the portraits watch us out there.” She gestured at the common room exit.
As unbecoming as it was, Lucius couldn't help but gape at that piece of information. It felt like a betrayal of trust — and not to mention a complete lack of faith in their — his — ability to do their (his) job — and it took him a few seconds to recover from it. "That's…" he couldn't think of anything else to say that wasn't an indication of his outrage, "Well, they'll be wasting their time."
Again, she leaned in, a bit further to avoid being overheard by the portraits in their common room. “They’re only portraits,” she said, quietly, mostly to make herself feel better about the entire thing. It was humiliating. “It isn’t as though their time is that valuable.”
He looked around, casting skeptical glares at the portraits, before lowering his voice. "They'll probably lie about what they saw just to add some excitement to their lives."
“You’re being paranoid, Malfoy,” she said, amused.
"I am not," he scoffed. He examined the portraits again. "It could very likely be something Wellington Othello Laurencius Sploot the IV would do. He just stands around and poses with his lance all day."
“How on earth do you know his entire name?”
"I once made the mistake," he scowled at the recollection, "of engaging him in conversation. You can't forget a name like that."
Narcissa pressed her lips together to suppress a laugh and merely nodded, nearly sympathetic. “We should probably get to our rounds, though. I’m sure the portraits will tell if we’re late.”
"They can try," he said, half as a warning and half to himself. Nonetheless, he straightened up and nodded in agreement. "Should we start in the corridor again? Higgenbotham insisted on beginning on the other end of the castle. It was ridiculous."
“Ravenclaws,” was all she said, shaking her head. She glanced down at his badge, but only gestured at the door, indicating he should walk ahead of her. “Of course, though. Only a simpleton would start all the way over there.”
Lucius followed her gesture and started walking, remaining silent. The only thing he could think of saying was that he agreed, and that had happened too much already. It was better to say nothing.
*
"Did you see Leonard Pips try to blame that mess on the sixth floor on us? He really had the audacity!" It was the third time he'd talked about it today, the first two to Rabastan, but although his friend had listened, he hadn't understood the significance of Leonard Pips and his squeaky voice trying to get him and Narcissa in trouble.
Remarkably, their prefect partnership post-truce had gone four months without incident. There had been a few snipes and pointed remarks, of course, because truces didn't outlaw that, but if the professors — or the portraits, for that matter — had hoped for something to happen, they would be sorely disappointed. In a way, Lucius was proud they had been so civil — as civil as they could be, with the two of them being… the two of them — for so long. He'd never imagined it was possible.
“No, I try not to acknowledge Leonard Pips when I can avoid it,” she replied breezily, with a wave of her hand, but a small furrow started to form between her brows. “Did you report him for lying? I don’t think we were even near the sixth floor when it happened, were we?”
"It wasn't even our patrol that day!" If Pips wanted to lie, he could've made the lie believable. "I'm not reporting him though. I'll think of a better plan than that," he said.
“Oh? Like what?” she asked, her interest firmly piqued. She wanted to know what Lucius Malfoy’s revenge looked like.
He wasn’t trying to impress Narcissa Black, but he had to take pride in his ideas. That was the only reason he hoped she would approve of them. “I was thinking I’d curse him every day for a week until he becomes paranoid at the possibility of more. Then I’d leave off for a few days, and start again.”
“Poor Leonard,” she said, though she didn’t sound sorry for him at all. “What curse were you planning on using?” She almost offered up a suggestion, but caught herself at the last second. Narcissa didn’t scheme with Lucius.
There was a moment’s hesitation before he told her. She was a Black and Blacks could be trusted with information like this. Still, he kept his voice low, despite the fact that no one was around. Lucius never liked to broadcast his Dark Arts research. “There’s a spell I found that causes intermittent nosebleeds throughout the day. The only way to stop it is the countercurse, which he won’t be able to find. Pips wouldn’t even know where to look.”
It surprised her that he would admit to using a spell like that to her and she glanced over at him with her eyebrows raised. But she gave him a nod of approval before facing the corridor before them. “It sounds like Pips will be the one to make a mess on the sixth floor now,” she said with a mean laugh.
"I'd love to see his face when he realizes he can't stop it," Lucius said smugly, chuckling to himself. "He deserves it."
“He certainly does,” she said, folding her hands primly in front of her. “Give him an especially nasty one from me?” She aimed a very slight smile at him.
The smile caught him off guard and it took him a split second longer than normal to look away. He quickly forgot about the fleeting compliment that came to mind. "Of course. The first one will be yours."
“Thank you,” she said and she actually sounded gracious. Maybe it wasn’t entirely the truce at play anymore. Maybe their rivalry was amicable now and they could be… Before she could finish her thought, their footsteps brought them to one of the school’s many staircases and she stopped, glancing up. “To the next floor?”
"After you," he said, extending his arm to guide her up. "Watch your step." There were always a few staircases that were tricky to navigate; one time, it had pulled away from him at the last second. If he hadn't been alone at that time, it would've been incredibly humiliating.
This was another of those times when the staircase decided to pull away at the last second. In the moment between her foot hovering above the first stair and stepping down onto it, the stairs swung away from her and she pitched forward. She threw one of her hands out to grasp for his arm and her life seemed to pass before her very eyes. Death by staircase was an undignified way to go. Lucius’s first name, not his last, fell from her lips.
Lucius leapt into action, pitching forward to catch Narcissa before she fell. Fortunately, he reached her just in time, his arms wrapping around her back, tightening them when he felt that lurch of panic in his chest. He pulled her back from the staircase, heart pounding, and let out a sigh of relief.
Even with her feet on the inanimate stone of the corridor, adrenaline was still pumping through Narcissa’s veins. Matters weren’t helped by his arms around her and she was dimly aware that she should pull away now, thank him, and move on. But all she could think about was closeness, like how close she’d come to falling and how close she was to Lucius now and how nice his eyes were.
It wasn’t even a conscious thought, leaning in. It just happened and then she just happened to press her lips to his.
In the days (and months) after, Lucius would think back to this moment and wonder if he'd been the one to lean in first, because at that moment, he couldn't be sure. He was holding Narcissa close one minute, and he was kissing her — or kissing her back — the next. It lasted just a few seconds, but it was long enough for him to realize what was happening and pulling back, dropping his arms from her body and staring at her in shock.
“That didn’t happen,” she said urgently. It had, though, and she hated that there was a small part of her that wanted it to happen again.
It was as if every word had disappeared from his (extensive, he wanted to clarify) vocabulary except one. “What?”
All she could think was how embarrassing it would be if anyone found out. She’d certainly never be able to face Madam Pomfrey again. What if she required healing? “It didn’t happen,” she said, sounding more sure of herself this time. “We didn’t just do that.”
As soon as he heard the certainty in her voice, it was as if something clicked for him. Of course it didn’t happen. He couldn’t have kissed Narcissa Black! No matter how much better they’d been getting on lately, they were still enemies — and it was preposterous to even think about! He steadfastly looked anywhere but her mouth.
Gathering what remained of his dignity, he said, stressing a particular word to follow her lead. Not that he needed to. “Do what? We’re just patrolling.” But he could feel himself get warm as he unwittingly recalled what had just happened.
“Exactly,” she agreed. “Which we should get back to, don’t you think?” What if she wanted to kiss Lucius all the time now?
"Right. We have the other half of the castle still." That meant they'd have to be together for another hour or so. He thought about pointing that out, but refrained. It was going to be fine. It was already forgotten.
But he took a few steps away from her, just for good measure.
Narcissa was coming to the same conclusion he was about the time they’d have to spend together that night alone. They had months and months of rounds left, as well. How could she have been so stupid? She’d never kissed anyone before and her lips had chosen him? There were so many other boys with nice eyes, ones who weren’t her academic rival. Leopold Yaxley had very nice eyes! Maybe she would kiss him and it would make her forget all about kissing Lucius Malfoy.
With a glance over at Lucius’s feet, she convinced her own feet to start walking again. “We can use the stairs around the corner.”
"Lead the way," he said, partly to be polite, but mostly so he didn't have to walk step in step with Narcissa again. Who knew what would happen then?
*
They’d said their goodbyes at least ten minutes ago, but Narcissa still held Leopold’s hands in hers. They seemed to be locked in a battle of who would leave first and neither of them wanted to cave first. “We’ll both be busy,” she was saying to drag things out even further, “so I don’t expect you to write every day, but you’ll write often, won’t you?”
“How does once a month sound? Every other week?” Leopold asked seriously, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when her expression soured. “Once a week, at least.” He gave her hands a squeeze. “Every other day when I can manage it.”
By the time Lucius entered the platform, he was already in a foul mood. Most of it had to do with the fact that his father had not stopped making pointed remarks about a certain missing badge ever since he'd received his Hogwarts letter. The other part was because he wasn't looking forward to seeing which one of his far less deserving colleagues had gotten the badge. And if Narcissa Black was Head Girl while he was still a Prefect, he would resign immediately.
Absentmindedly, but with a scowl seemingly permanently attached onto his face, Lucius pulled his trunk behind him and headed to a door. It was just his luck that the one he'd chosen was being blocked. Without noticing who it was, he cleared his throat and said, louder than normal, "Pardon me, you're blocking the way." Another second later and he realized it was Narcissa Black and Leopold Yaxley, attached by their hands. As always, there was a fleeting memory of an event that hadn't happened, but he pushed it away. If possible, his scowl deepened. "I hate to interrupt —" Although hate was hardly the right word, "But some people need to get onto the train." To Narcissa, he added snidely, "Some of us value punctuality."
“There’s plenty of time to board the train, Malfoy,” Narcissa snapped, her eyes automatically seeking out his lapel. She sank into Leopold and out of Lucius’s way when she saw he was only wearing the same prefect badge as always. Thank Merlin she’d been spared the indignity of having to work under Lucius Malfoy after the Incident that she had (hadn’t) completely forgotten about in the months since it hadn’t (had) happened.
“I should be going anyway,” Leopold said, ducking in to press a chaste kiss to Narcissa’s cheek before letting go of her hands and stepping away. He gave Lucius a nod and said, “Malfoy.” With that he turned on his heel and left.
With a sad little frown, Narcissa watched him go before turning to Lucius. “I see you’re not Head Boy. What a pity.”
He ignored Leopold steadfastly, his head turned so that he didn't have to glimpse him. What kind of person lingered at the platform the year after he'd already graduated? What Narcissa saw in him, Lucius would never understand. "I'm sorry, I'm reserving my greetings for the Head Girl."
“That’s fine,” she said, managing to sound like she wasn’t bothered at all by the fact that she wasn’t Head Girl. She was very bothered, though. “I didn’t really care to talk to you anyway.”
He rolled his eyes, his eyes casting beyond her in the direction that Leopold had left. "Right. You'd much rather speak to Yaxley. He's a terrible conversationalist."
“Leopold is a wonderful conversationalist,” she corrected. A group of fifth year girls stepped up behind Lucius, their trunks in tow, but they quickly veered off to the next door upon reading the room. “He isn’t self-obsessed like certain people I know.”
"Now that's no way to talk about yourself," Lucius said, mockingly, his face twisted into a falsely sympathetic expression. "I'm surprised Saint Leopold hasn't caught on. He must be slow about these things."
“What on earth is your issue with Leopold?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowed. She didn’t bother refuting that she was self-involved because at least she could be secure in knowing Lucius was even more self-involved than she was.
"Nothing's my issue with Leopold," he said immediately, even managing to keep the emphasis off the name. "He'd have to be interesting for me to take issue with him."
“You’re being a child,” Narcissa pointed out, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Her eyes fell to his badge again and she felt another rush of relief that he was only a prefect, not Head Boy. It made not being Head Girl an easier potion to swallow. She lifted her eyes to his smug, stupid, handsome — not handsome face. “So if you’ll excuse me, I have to go speak with people my own age.” She started for the door, but with her foot on the first step, she turned back to him. “Your badge is crooked.” She disappeared inside.
A look down, a curse, and three deep breaths later, Lucius followed, thanking Merlin that this would be the last year he would have to deal with Narcissa Black.
*
There were about fifteen — no, sixteen — better things that he would rather be doing, including not being at Hogsmeade, than doing what he was doing right now, which was being forced to patrol Hogsmeade with Narcissa Black. Without knowing how it had happened, somehow, the two of them had been the designated patrollers and that was the story of how and why he was at Hogsmeade with Narcissa Black.
Walking down Hogsmeade with Narcissa Black.
Not at Hogsmeade with her.
There was a difference.
Lucius kept his eyes forward and maintained his surly countenance. "They should have assigned the fifth years to do this. They've got nothing to do."
For some reason, Narcissa both did and didn’t want to mention she’d had something to do — plans with Leopold — to Lucius. She did because being there with Lucius Malfoy felt strangely like firelight catching his jaw in the common room or his arms catching her in the castle’s corridors. She didn’t for the exact same reasons.
Merlin, she loathed the genetic lottery that was his face.
“Yes, well,” she said, affecting nonchalance like any good hitwizard would, “at least now we can say we’ve already done it if they try to make us do it again.”
That wasn't much consolation for Lucius. He continued on his tirade, despite the fact that Narcissa had a good point. "We're only Prefects anyways. It should be up to the Head Boy and Girl to set an example for us. If I was —" he cut himself off, wrinkling his nose at the realization that he was launching into his fourth speech beginning with that phrase in the past month. "If they try, I'll just be busy next time."
“I was busy this time,” Narcissa pointed out. “They didn’t care.” She was very kindly going to pretend he wasn’t about to go on another ‘if I were Head Boy’ tangent. It reminded her of her grandfather’s ‘back in my day’ speeches.
He glanced at her briefly, disappointedly breaking that rule he'd established this year of not looking at her. "What would you be busy with?"
“I was going to see Leopold,” she said, pointedly staring straight ahead. If she’d been Head Girl, she’d have spared herself the indignity of having to cancel her date.
"I thought you'd gotten tired of him by now. It's been months." Lucius felt a stab of irritation at this thought. How was Leopold Yaxley sustaining her — anyone's interest?
Narcissa sighed. “I happen to like him very much.” She cast an annoyed glance in his direction. “I don’t understand why you’re so jealous of him. I’m sure there’s someone out there who finds you palatable if you look very, very, very hard.”
Lucius scoffed. “Why would I be jealous of him? I’ll have you know Violet Flint and I were supposed to attend Hogsmeade today before I was forced to reschedule.” He had asked Violet, although it had been mostly out of a desire not to attend Hogsmeade alone, rather than a true interest in her. She was pretty, but more boring than he cared to indulge.
“Speaking of getting tired of someone…” She gave a surprised laugh, feeling a stab of irritation similar to the one he’d had moments before. “Violet Flint? I must be sleepwalking if we’re talking about her.”
"Violet Flint is quite funny, you know," he said, deliberately exaggerating this trait. No one he knew would actually call her funny. Maybe amusing on a good day. "And we've got a lot in common." She, after all, did like to compliment him.
“Funny!” she said with another surprised laugh and then she kept laughing. The funniest thing Violet Flint had ever done was be called funny, as far as Narcissa was concerned. “What on earth do you have in common with Violet Flint?”
He kept his head high as Narcissa laughed. It didn't matter that she didn't believe it. It could be true and she didn't have to know the truth of it. "If you're done," he said sourly. "We both excel in Charms. Her family has always been close with mine. My mother is very good friends with hers. And we both have an eye for beauty."
“Oh, well, in that case,” she said, sounding both unconvinced and like she was on the verge of laughing all over again. “I’m sure the two of you will be very happy together.”
"Certainly more so than you and Leopold," he said, glaring at a random student for no reason in particular.
“Leopold and I have been seeing one another for nearly a year now.” This was a slight exaggeration, but Lucius didn’t need to know that. “We’re already happy together.”
"Pardon me if I don't believe that," he said dryly. "Yaxley leaves something to be desired."
“I don’t need you to believe that,” Narcissa said, a delicate furrow between her eyebrows. “You aren’t —” A flutter of movement at the Shrieking Shack’s gate caught her eye. “It isn’t really any of your business, actually.”
The gate slowly creaked open, as if it were simply the wind catching it, but she spied the indistinct haze of a disillusionment charm from where she stood. She drew her wand and, after a silent finite incantatum, an unfamiliar boy in a Gryffindor scarf appeared, who promptly yelped and made a run for it.
Lucius heaved a great sigh at the sight of the Gryffindor boy, annoyed both at his presence and at his interruption of their conversation. Now Narcissa would continue to be blind to Leopold's faults. Almost lazily, he pulled out his wand and cast a Trip Jinx in the boy's direction. He stumbled and fell and Lucius hurried over to stop him before he made another attempt to run away. "The Shrieking Shack is off limits," he informed him haughtily. Every Hogsmeade visit, someone — inevitably a Gryffindor — decided to test that prohibition. Why they wanted to was beyond him. Hogsmeade had far better sights than a run down, likely haunted shack.
“I was dared to,” the boy insisted from the ground, turning entreating eyes on Narcissa, who’d followed Lucius at a much more sedate speed.
“Of course you were,” she agreed, understanding, holding a hand out to the Gryffindor boy and helping him to his feet. “What’s your name?”
The boy looked uncertainly between the two prefects, considering giving them a fake name. They’d believe him if he said he was Sirius Black or James Potter probably. But those two were second years and everyone knew third year was when you started going to Hogsmeade. Ultimately, though, Narcissa looked so nice — even though she was a Slytherin — that he tilted towards her just a bit and told her out of the side of his mouth, “Luca Stump.”
"Luca Stump," Lucius said, not registering any familiarity with the name. "I hope the detention you'll be serving will be worth the dare."
Luca’s shoulders slumped and he swore under his breath.
“We could look the other way, Lucius,” Narcissa pointed out, ignoring how odd Lucius’s name felt in her mouth. “If he promised to leave and never come back.”
"I'm not sure he would learn not to do it again," Lucius said, ignoring Luca's hopeful look. "He'll just be at it again next time."
“He didn’t actually go inside,” she pointed out.
"Only because you spotted him before he was able to." Lucius hadn't even paid attention.
Really, Narcissa didn’t want to go to Professor McGonagall’s office with Lucius after having had to spend her Hogsmeade weekend with him. She turned to the Gryffindor. “Luca, do you promise you won’t come back here ever again?”
Luca gave an enthusiastic nod. “I swear!”
For a long minute, Lucius stared at the boy, his eyes narrowed in displeasure and disapproval. Competing instincts of contrariness and inaction fought each other, but in the end, he had to agree with Narcissa. He didn't much like the thought of going through the entire, exhausting process. However, he wasn't content on just letting him go with just a promise. "If you come back here, you'll be owing two detentions. Do you understand?"
Luca nodded again, this time with more fear in the movement. Lucius was satisfied, shooing him along, a directive the Gryffindor hastily followed.
He turned to Narcissa. "It's always a Gryffindor."
“Of course it is,” she said with a sigh. Reaching for the gate to pull it shut, her eyes drifted to the house. Its reputation didn’t scare her over much, but a shiver went down her spine and she took a step away from the gate, turning to Lucius. “I’m thirsty.”
"There's still time to get to the Three Broomsticks," Lucius said, only just realizing it might have been misconstrued as an invitation. He was quick to clarify. "I'm not buying you a drink."
“I didn’t ask you to, Malfoy,” she snapped, looking unimpressed. She adjusted the green and silver scarf around her neck and snuck another glance at the shack. “Let’s go, though.” She looked at him, at his scarf and then the prefect badge glinting in what little sun there was.
“Your badge is crooked,” she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she turned and started walking back to the main street.
One day, he would know better than to look down every time Narcissa said those words. Unfortunately, it wasn't that day. With a scowl at his perfectly placed badge, Lucius begrudgingly followed her.