The source of someone’s happiness was personal. So personal, in fact, that sometimes even oneself was unaware of the true source. For some, happiness came in the form of palpable things like friends, family, their favorite food, a toy saved from their childhood. For others it was something less solid but not less significant. Narcissa Black’s happiness lied in a mixture of both. It was deeply rooted in the back of her memories as a warm light keeping her from being completely swallowed by the darkness of the world she lived in.

Her eyes closed and a corner of her lips rose almost immediately. In her mind she could see them, every one of them, their eyes distinct in every way. Some were long, some were brown, some had obnoxiously long lashes, and others emanated such warmth that it turned her insides into a fury of mixed emotions. It didn’t matter how different they were because behind those eyes, Narcissa could recognize one thing: love. The love that her kind dared not speak of for fear of suffering from crushed dreams.

Her wand tickled her palm and Narcissa smiled. Perhaps she’d be able to conjure a Patronus this time.

Sometimes it was hard for her to remember why she had liked him once. It was moments like these, when he set her blood boiling and left her with no choice but to remain speechless in order to not appear childish and bratty that she knew why her heart had first been tricked into letting him in. He was still there, in a dark corner of her heart; hidden from view even to herself for most of the time until she was suddenly assaulted with memories of him and his sharp words that could only come from the horned tongue he seemed to invisibly possess.

“Cissy, are you listening?” demanded Bellatrix shrilly. “I said there’s no way I’m giving him an heir. I’m not a baby machine. I have ambition. I will serve My Dark Lord.”

Narcissa averted her blue eyes away from the manic gleam on her sister’s face and to the tea cup in her hands. “You should reconsider, Bellatrix. All he wishes is for a son,” pleaded the blond as she reached for her sister’s hand. Bella snatched her hand away.

“And what about me?” she shrieked. Her knee banged against the table. “Don’t I have wishes too?”

“You could have killed him!” she shouts. Her hands are clench so tightly that her nails bite into her skin, drawing blood. “You are an idiot. How could you do such a thing? To your own brother!” She can’t focus. Her vision blurs due to hot angry tears. She feels them dripping down her cheeks. A hand wipes at them furiously, over and over again. “Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!” finishes yelling the blond before she stomps away. Her marching evolves into a quick sprint and she bursts through the double doors of the hospital wing.

Her legs feel heavy but they carry her to where her heart tells them to. “Reggie,” she croaks and throws herself at the boy lying on the hospital bed. Regulus groans. “I’m fine,” he assures her. “But I can’t—really hug right now, cousin.” Narcissa pulls away. An embarrassed flush appears on her wet cheeks. “Aw, don’t cry, Little Cissy,” he says and reaches for her face with a bandaged hand. “A hurling hex is nothing. My brother is gonna have to try harder than that.” Narcissa shakes her head.

“I’ll kill him first,” she mumbles against his palm. She knows it’s a lie. Reggie snickers.

Narcissa Black was running. She had been running for minutes now. If her legs were to slow down, it wouldn’t end prettily. Firstly, she’d most likely end up face-first on the grass of her backyard. Secondly, her eldest sister, was behind her—far away enough to keep the blond safe from her excellent aim. It was only a matter of time, however, before Bella would catch up with her. Narcissa knew this. Narcissa had a plan.

At least she did before a jinx brought them and her crumbling down.

“Oomf!” groaned the girl, the side of her face sliding along the grass for a foot. As soon as she came to a stop she heard something blast against the ground beside her. Her eyes flew open and through her fluttering lashes Narcissa saw the scorched patch of grass beside her. “Move!” ordered a boy’s voice as a foot connected with her ribs, tossing her over.

“No fair!” bellowed Bellatrix, her legs visible to Narcissa through the hair sticking to her grass stained face. “You’re already out, Roddy!”

“Wrong,” declared Rodolphus, standing over Narcissa. She tried moving away from between his long legs. “She’s mine. We’re even now. Two to two.”

Incantation: Imperio.

Spell Name: Imperius Curse.

Definition: One of the three Unforgivable Curses. Cast successfully, it places the caster in complete control of the victim.

Narcissa fidgeted once. It was a subtle shift of weight in her seat; a twitch of her hips. A pale brow crept high on her forehead in contained suspicion. It wasn’t in her nature to be suspicious of everyone despite knowing she very well should be. The blond never thought she needed to be. After all, her eldest sister was plenty suspicious for the both them.

“I beg your pardon?” stated the girl dully, face expressionless once her brow settled back to its normal location.

Bellatrix placed one hand against her chest. The brunette extended her arm in a gesture that forced Narcissa to imagine a tea tray placed on her sister’s hand.

“I said I’d go,” declared Bella haughtily, eyes closed for a moment as she spoke. Her brows twitched. “It’s no big deal. We’re engaged now. Also, it’s not every day our little Cissy has her debut! I’ll dance with Rodolphus. I don’t mind it. Much.”

Narcissa brought the teacup she had been holding to her lips. Imperiused. Her sister had been Imperiused.

To most, Narcissa Black was a simple-minded girl. The truth was that she had more secrets than she cared for. It wasn’t that she planned on having them pile up, one after the other. They simply surfaced, like odious stinky bubbles in your bath water, and left her with no choice but to blush at them and hope no one but her heard. One of those detestable bubbles resurfaced as the blond sat in the common room.

Having been successful at making scarves and gloves, Narcissa wanted to try her hand at sweater making. So far it was proving to be a miss. She tossed down the needles, a frown on her face. Her fingers twitched over the armrest before she reached for her wand. A Knitting Charm could be more successful, perhaps.

Although faster, the needles didn’t seem to be making any concrete shape. Narcissa’s cheeks exploded with small bursts of color at the sound of a familiar low chuckle. She sent the owner of the rumbling a seething look. “Is there something wrong?” she asked.

“No,” answered Lucius calmly. He observed her cautiously for a moment before gesturing at the working needles. “Is that a sock?”

Narcissa choked.

“Nox,” he whispers. The light that pulses gently on the tip of his wand disappears. His grip on her hand tightens. Narcissa’s lips, chapped and dry, press tightly together. She mustn’t make a sound. He won’t like and it will only bring attention to their hiding place. Her throat is dry and it’s hard to swallow but she does it anyway. It’s better this way, she tells herself. Better to have the words safe in her belly than through Rodolphus’ ears and her sisters’ who were surely nearby, doing their best to find them. But still…

But…

“It hurts,” she complains in a whisper that threatens to be just a trick of the wind. Rodolphus brows pinch together, and his jaw tightens. Her fingers like porcelain touch gently over the boy’s and press ever so slightly. He recoils, dark brows arching high and hide under the dark hair, slightly damp that sticks to his forehead. Cissa flinches and brings her freed wrist to her chest where she coddles it. Her eyes avoid meeting the ones of the boy next to her, instead focusing on his small nose which wrinkles slightly. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

It was, as if suddenly, she had been the pathetic receiver of a Langlock jinx. Except her tongue was not glued to the roof of her mouth. It just flopped uselessly without making a sound in her defense. Regulus' eyes had turned from playful to cautious. There was a warning buried between his furrowed brows that she ignored in favor of observing her bleeding fingers.

"You'll only hurt yourself further Narcissa," Regulus whispered as another sweep of his wand conjured bandages. Before she knew it, she was mended.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said quickly, as her blue eyes focused on the ornate wallpaper plastered on the wall across the room. Fear and resentment lodged in her throat making it hard to swallow.

"You do," Regulus insisted but released her hands. "And you know better."

"I already said I don't know what you're talking about."

Narcissa didn't know when she had become such a good liar. She had never had a need to stop before and think about it; however the ease with which she met her cousin's gaze without flinching terrified her. It was scary the depths that greed could lead you to if you followed.

Narcissa wished someone would utter that Morsmordre spell and summoned all His followers at this very moment. It was a selfish thought. Later in the night she'd be too wrought with guilt to fall asleep so easily but right now she could not fathom sitting another minute while Regulus bore his grey eyes through her forehead.

"What do you propose I do, Regulus?" she asked him with a sardonic smile. "Marry you?" Narcissa scoffed, and turned her face away form her cousin.

She felt feverish. As if she was suddenly consumed by a maddening disease that would take away her sanity.

"Is it such an ugly thought to you?" Reggie inquired, still sitting on the armrest of the seat she occupied. "I think it would work. I think..." Hesitation fell heavily from his mouth to her lap. Narcissa shooed it off with her bandaged fingers. "We could be happy, you and I. At least some kind of semblance of happiness."

It couldn't be denied. Cissa knew that as far as people like her and Reggie were concerned, real happiness was a luxury. It was a fantasy, a dream you were supposed to outgrow eventually.

And yet she held on tight.