Coming clean
“You protected Rita Skeeter.”
“Yes,” Narcissa said solemnly.
“You introduced Rita Skeeter to your childhood friend.”
“Yes.”
“This incredibly important childhood friend to whom I have not yet been introduced.”
“Yes.”
“Because, why, again?”
“I happened upon Rita Skeeter in the course of my afternoon appointment. She was having an absolute meltdown. Honestly, I was embarrassed for her. Finally she admitted that she had been assigned to wed Vincenzius Crabbe and she thought you and I had been the ones to make that happen. He is an abusive, nasty, blood supremacist. I was trying to hide her at the Hog’s Head but that’s where he was and, in my panic, the only place I could think of that he would never know about was Elizabeth’s tea house up in Scotland. I’m terribly sorry that I’ve hurt you, darling. I was trying to protect her and I was very concerned the whole time that it might upset you if I helped her. But, truly, I thought you would do it, too. If you were there, you would have helped her, too.”
“I’m...not hurt. I’m jealous. And jealous is an ugly thing to be.”
“I promised Elizabeth we would have her over for dinner soon so she could meet you. She’s going to just love you, Hermione. You have so much in common!”
Hermione couldn’t stay upset, Narcissa’s eyes were dancing with the thought of introducing her to her oldest friend. “I’m really looking forward to that. Invite her over as soon as you want, Cissa, I’ll be here,” Hermione said, wanting to press a kiss to Narcissa’s full lips.
“Thank you,” Narcissa whispered, her eyes filling with tears.
“Don’t cry; why are you thanking me?”
“For not staying mad.”
“Narcissa, I shouldn’t have been mad in the first place. It was just jealousy. You’re completely right, I would’ve helped her if I were there. Anything else we should discuss while we’re in the tub and I can’t kiss you?”
“I lied to Vincenzius Crabbe today, made myself sound like a pure-blood supremacist, and I’m a little bit terrified that he’s going to find out and come after one or both of us?”
Hermione’s jaw dropped. “Um. What?”
“I was trying to convince him he shouldn’t marry Rita and that he should marry a pure-blood instead because I wanted him to go to the Ministry to request a change but, in order to convince him, I had to make up a history for Rita.”
“Oh, my Cissa. That’s not nearly as bad as you made it sound,” Hermione squeezed the hand she was holding under the water. “What did you tell him about her?”
“He thought she was a pure-blood. I told him she was the child of two muggle parents and she changed her name.”
“What did he say to that?” Hermione had a guess for what word he used…
“He called her a name that I shall choose not to repeat. Which reminds me, that we still need to go up to Edinburgh and see that healer for your scar, darling.”
“Does it bother you?”
“Precision of language,” Narcissa teased.
“Does it bother you that your fiancée is a mudblood whose very skin bears the mark of being such?” Hermione’s eyes were pinched shut, her body tense.
“It bothers me that there are people in the world who think that it matters for the wrong reasons. Look at me, darling, please,” Narcissa waited for Hermione’s brown eyes to open up and connect with her own. “It matters what your background was and where you came from.”
Hermione let go of Narcissa’s hand, Narcissa did not release.
“Listen to everything before you pull away from me, lion. It does matter. It matters because it’s part of what made you who you are. Your parents being muggle dentists and you having no introduction into this world until you were eleven matter. We all need to honor and understand our differences. Not hold them against one another. Not pretend they don’t exist. But appreciate them for the different perspective they can bring to every situation. So, does it bother me that your parents are muggles? No, of course, not. Does it bother me that your skin bears the mark of a slur against you for that? Yes. That bothers me very much. The torture, the fact that I couldn’t - or didn’t - stop it, and that it’s still there? That all bothers me, darling. So much.”
“And yet again, we’re naked in a bathtub and all I want is to kiss and hold you,” Hermione said quietly.
“Bath first. Then we get dressed. Then kissing. Holding will have to come after dinner,” Narcissa laughed a little.
Hermione smirked, “if you insist.”
“Mmhmm, I do insist on holding you later,” Narcissa murmured, her eyes closed for a few moments as she simply rested, gently squeezing the hand held in her own.
“Are we dressing for dinner?” Hermione asked, standing barefoot in the middle of Narcissa’s bedroom. Her hair was still piled atop her head having stayed mostly dry in the bathtub but a shiver ran down her spine in the cool room.
“Well, I would certainly advise against dining in that robe at this stage in our betrothal,” Narcissa said, biting back a grin.
Hermione didn’t respond, instead crossing her arms and glaring playfully at the other woman.
Laughing, Narcissa apologized. “Honestly, darling, I hadn’t really decided what to wear yet. What do you think?”
“Ugh,” Hermione flopped backwards onto the bed. “If only Harry and Andy were coming I’d just put on whatever but Miss Hopkirk? I haven't a clue! Haven’t you spent time with her? What’s she likely to wear?”
“Hermione. Really?”
Lifting just her head and looking at Narcissa across the room, Hermione had a blank expression on her face seeing Narcissa standing poised with her hands on her hips and her back ramrod straight.
“Me? The ex-wife of one of the Dark Lord’s most trusted and faithful servants? The ex-wife of a man who willingly allowed me to be held captive in my own house for I don’t even know how long? You think I may have spent time with Mafalda Hopkirk, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, in any kind of social setting? Where? The dungeons of Malfoy Manor?”
Narcissa was met with silence for a long, tense moment.
“Um, Narcissa?” Hermione spoke in a small voice. “I didn’t really mean it that way. I thought maybe you saw her this summer or last spring when you were going to the Ministry.”
Dropping her head and slumping her shoulders, Narcissa took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Hermione. I should’ve known better. I don't know why I got so defensive.”
“Hey,” Hermione whispered from right behind Narcissa, “it’s okay. Are you maybe feeling a little nervous about her coming over?” Hermione slid her hands around Narcissa’s waist, pressing her torso against her fiancée’s back.
“Maybe,” Narcissa answered, “but I still shouldn’t have spoken to you so sharply and I do apologize.”
“It’s all right, Cissa,” Hermione pressed a kiss to the robe-covered shoulder in front of her. “I’m going to wear slacks and a blouse. Nice enough but not exactly dress robes. What do you think?” Hermione stepped away with a pat to Narcissa’s hip.
Smiling, Narcissa agreed that it sounded like a good plan. “I do think I’ll do the same. Is that too much? If we match like that?”
“Nope,” Hermione grinned, “it’s just right.”
As Narcissa slid hangers around in her armoire choosing the right slacks, she heard Hermione getting dressed behind the screen. “I’ve just put on fresh robes and I’m going to pop home through the Floo to get dressed for dinner. Be back in a flash,” Hermione said head to the door.
“Wait!” Narcissa caught Hermione’s hand just before she got there. “I...I mean...yes. Sorry. Sure, sorry,” Narcissa shook her head briefly and released Hermione’s hand.
“What is it?”
“It’s silly,” Narcissa shrugged, turning away.
“Tell me. Please,” it was Hermione then who reached out to grasp Narcissa’s hand.
“I just didn’t want you to go. Silly of me, I know. You’ll be back for dinner in a bit. I don’t know what just came over me,” Narcissa’s cheeks were a delicate shade of pink.
Hermione pulled Narcissa’s body tightly against her own, “I can’t describe what it does to my heart when you say things like that, Cissa. Thank you for telling me. I know you were uncomfortable sharing that but it means so much to me that you did.”
“Go, my darling. Go home and get dressed. I’ll meet you in the sitting room when you Floo back. Thank you for this,” Narcissa pressed a kiss to Hermione’s lips. Then a second one just for good measure.
“I’ll be so fast,” she smiled up at Narcissa.
Twenty minutes later found Narcissa stepping into the sitting room, dressed flawlessly, hair half-up looking perfect, and make-up impeccable. “Mistress Black,” Pepper squeaked, “Pepper can get you a drink?”
“Thank you, Pepper,” Narcissa smiled kindly at the little elf, “I was actually wondering if you could help me with something?”
“Yes, Mistress Black, Pepper can help with anything!”
“There’s a, well, I’m not quite sure what to call it, but it has various bottles of alcohol in it and mixers and glasses? A bar cart? Kind of a moveable liquor cabinet?”
“Hmm, and Mistress wants Pepper to know where it is?”
“I was actually wondering if you could use your elf magic to bring it in here? I would love to mix some drinks for our guests using those bottles but it would be so much easier if it were in the sitting room, say, over by the window?”
Pepper’s eyes widened comically, “Oh, yes, Mistress Black. Pepper will do it right away!”
True to her word, the house elf disappeared and came back only a few minutes later with her hand resting on a beautifully carved wooden bar. It was the perfect size to fit in front of the sitting room window.
“Thank you, Pep! That’s exactly what I wanted!”
“Can Pepper mix Mistress Black a drink?” the elf asked, clearly hoping to be told yes.
Narcissa walked over to where Pepper was standing and knelt before her, “you know, Pepper, you can call me Narcissa, if you want to? You don’t have to say Mistress Black all the time. You know that, right?” Narcissa carefully reached out and held one of Pepper’s tiny hands in her own. “We live in this house together, Pepper, we’re practically family.”
Tears filled Pepper’s big eyes, “that makes Pepper feel so happy, Narcissa.” She squeezed the fingers she could grasp.
“Good, I’m so glad that’s settled. Now, as for drinks, dear, I’m not sure you know how to make the drink I was going to have!”
“What? Pepper is a House Elf, Narcissa! Pepper can make every drinks!”
“A Cosmopolitan?”
Pepper squinted and looked away, “Narcissa just made that up!”
“No! It’s a drink! Let me show you. It’s very popular across the pond in the States.”
Narcissa went about showing Pepper how to combine the vodka, triple sec, cranberry and lime juice and orange bitters to make a beautiful drink and serve it in a fashionable glass. So focused were the witch and elf that they didn’t notice the other presence in the room until she finally spoke.
“Are you corrupting that innocent House Elf, Narcissa Black?”
Narcissa jumped so terribly she nearly spilled the pink beverage down the front of her off-white blouse. “Oh, Merlin, you startled me!”
“Narcissa does not corrupt Pepper! Narcissa is teaching Pepper to make Cosmopolitans. It’s a muggle drink from the pond!”
Hermione raised her eyebrows at Narcissa, trying desperately not to giggle.
“Yes, Pepper, it’s a muggle drink from across the pond. Cosmopolitans are quite popular in the States. We’ve made you one as well, Mione,” Narcissa offered, a slight pout on her fair face.
“Well, as long as you’re sharing,” Hermione joked.
“We were practicing so we could make some fun drinks for our guests tonight. Cosmos and martinis and gin and tonics.”
Hermione sipped the drink Narcissa had handed her, it was sour and tart with a sweet finish. “Hmm,” she nodded, “thank you for sharing. I’ll stick with this one.”
“Is it too strong?” Narcissa asked. “Let me try it,” she reached for the glass in Hermione’s hand, sipping from nearly the spot Hermione had used. “Why are you smiling like that?”
“I...just...sometimes,” Hermione took a deep breath trying to find the right words to explain what she was feeling, “sometimes I just know so deeply that I’m going to completely enjoy being married to you.”
Narcissa closed her eyes to contain the tears suddenly filling them. “I know exactly what you mean. Pepper, I think we’re good. Hermione and I are just going to spend a little time together before our guests come.”
“Pepper is practicing the drinks. And this one. It was on the bar. A mojito?”
“Okay, just don’t drink them, Pep. Muggle alcohol is very strong.”
“Pepper will not drink, just mix until the drinks are perfect.”
Narcissa and Hermione watched Pepper for a moment, though it had started unintentionally, the little elf was intently focused on her new task of learning to mix muggle cocktails. Narcissa stepped away and opened a lower cabinet near the fireplace.
“What’s that?” Hermione asked.
“My phonograph. I’m hoping to convince this lovely lady to dance with me while we await our guests,” Narcissa answered quietly as she very carefully placed the needle on the record that was already on the turntable.
The quiet strains of a string ensemble slowly built to fill the room before Etta James’ voice rang out with the opening lyrics of her most iconic hit.
Hermione looked at Narcissa in wonder as she placed her hand in Narcissa’s, “I love this song.”
“So do I,” Narcissa smiled back, “dance with me?”
“Of course,” Hermione agreed, sliding her right arm around Narcissa’s shoulder to rest her hand on the back of Narcissa’s neck, her left hand clasped in Narcissa’s right. Hermione quietly hummed along to the lyrics, “my heart was wrapped up in clover, the night I looked at you. I found a dream that I could speak to, a dream that I can call my own. I found a thrill to press my cheek to, a thrill that I have never known. Oh, yeah, you smiled, you smiled, oh, and then the spell was cast. And here we are in heaven, for you are mine, at last.”
At Last faded into the next song and the pair danced on, content to be in one another’s arms. Stormy Weather came on then and Hermione sighed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Absolutely nothing,” Hermione leaned back and smiled up at Narcissa, “I really enjoy this music. Etta James is one of my favorites.”
“Mine, too,” Narcissa smiled, incredulous at the random things they had in common. She took the lead once more and carefully moved them around the room so that as Stormy Weather ended she could move the needle to where she wanted it.
The room was once again filled with the opening chords of Etta’s At Last and the couple danced on, heedless of the visitors who had just been let into the Manor by Pepper.
As the song ended again, one of the visitors spoke up. “Are they really always like this?”
Sighing, Harry answered, “Yes. Always.”
Narcissa, opening her eyes to look at Hermione was startled by the three people standing in the doorway. “Darling,” she said quietly, “our visitors have arrived.”
“Oh, Merlin.”
“I do apologize, we didn’t hear you arrive,” Narcissa said to their guests, releasing the hand that had been holding Hermione’s though she kept her left arm wrapped around Hermione’s waist.
“Please come in,” Hermione said, “I’ll turn the music down.”
“Pepper has been mixing some delicious drinks. Would anyone care for a cocktail?”
Pepper nodded enthusiastically, “Pepper has Cosmopolitans, Mojitos, ginsandtonics, and what was the last name, Mistress Black?”
“The last one was a martini. Pep, thank you for being so thoughtful but you may call me Narcissa even in front of guests.”
“Okay! Pepper will call you Narcissa! Does Narcissa want a Cosmopolitan?”
“I’m not sure yet, Pep. What would everyone like?” She looked around at their guests. Hermione was smiling up at her, with a delightful grin on her face. Narcissa knew the look. It meant Hermione wanted to kiss her...very much. Andy, too, was grinning at her but in a way that said she wanted to tease her. Harry looked like he was unsurprised but Mafalda Hopkirk looked as though she had perhaps landed on the moon.
“Miss Hopkirk? Would you like a cocktail?” Narcissa offered.
“Yes, a gin and tonic. Heavy on the gin,” she nodded to herself, looking around. “This is a bit surreal.”
“Is it really?” Hermione asked, her defensive tendencies coming out strong. “You were witness to most of Narcissa’s depositions, were you not? You know what she went through? You were invited to a friendly dinner in her home. Did you expect her to be a monster?”
“Oh, no, Miss Granger, I just,” Miss Hopkirk shook her head, looking away. “I just...you know. Yes. Yes, I did expect her to be a monster. Sorry. Truth be told, Bellatrix Black Lestrange was a nightmare and I really wasn’t sure about you, Mistress Black. You were married to Lucius Malfoy.”
“Yes, and through my testimony, taken under the influence of vertiserum and legilimency you know all the lurid, embarrassing, debasing details of that marriage. You know it was arranged when I was a child. You know I was forced into motherhood at a young age, though I would never trade my son for anything and I am grateful to have him every single day. You know I spent the better part of two years a prisoner of Malfoy Manor. But because I didn’t have the urgency or facility to dissolve my marriage sooner I am unworthy of civil society now?”
Hermione had to literally bite her tongue not to jump into the conversation and assure Narcissa that she was in fact worthy of everything in the world. Worthy of civility and kindness and caring.
“I apologize, Mistress Black. I spent many years thinking you were married to a man with whom you agreed. I thought you were following a cause in which you believed. I am happy to know that’s not the case. I’m sorry for my reticence. Especially as I’ve already publicly supported you, it was rather rude of me.”
“Thank you. Apology accepted,” Narcissa turned to Pepper to reach for Mafalda’s drink only to find Pepper glaring at the other woman. “Pep? Miss Hopkirk would like a gin and tonic, please.”
“Miss Hopkirk should ask nicely.” Pepper crossed her arms and tapped her little foot. “The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black,” Pepper glanced quickly at Hermione, “and it’s betrothed, use proper manners in this residence.”
Harry snorted, “Pepper, my friend, you are just like your brother! You’re the best! It’s great how you’re defending our Narcissa, little mate.” He winked at the house elf in encouragement but it served the purpose of breaking the tension.
“I’m terribly sorry for my lapse in manners, Pepper. May I please have a gin and tonic?”
Pepper didn’t answer right away, instead looking at Narcissa for permission, it was, of course, given with a simple nod of her head.
“Yes, Miss Hopkirk,” Pepper agreed, “do any other guests want a ginsandtonics?”
Everyone else passed on the simple drink.
“So, you two are really a match, huh?” Mafalda tried to lighten the conversation stepping toward the sitting area with her beverage.
“We are,” the couple said in unison, looking at one another.
“It surprised most people,” Hermione acknowledged, “perhaps no one moreso than ourselves. A year ago if you had told me where I’d be standing and around whom my arm would be right now I would’ve carted you off to St. Mungo’s myself but...now that I’m here, with Narcissa, about to marry her, I can’t imagine anything else.”
“Exactly,” Narcissa agreed, simply, as she and Hermione sat on a small love seat together.
“I mean, how lucky can I be? I get to marry my best friend? One of my best friends, I should say. Of course, Harry is one of my best friends, as well.”
“I’m okay with Narcissa being your best friend, Mione. I’m your brother,” Harry assured her.
“You are, Harry, that’s true,” Hermione acquiesced.
Narcissa swallowed audibly and asked Andy what she wanted to drink.
Caught off guard by the non-sequiter, Andy stuttered for a moment before answering, “I, uh, I think I want to try a mojito?”
“Oh! Me, too,” Narcissa smiled, carefully extracting herself from Hermione and heading back to Pepper.
Pleasant chatter continued from the three who were seated so Andromeda took the opportunity to quietly question her baby sister about the sudden mood dampening.
“I can’t explain it,” Narcissa shrugged.
“Try, Cissy. Hermione called you her best friend and your face immediately froze. You are worthy of her and her friendship. You saved a great many lives.”
“It’s not...quite...that. I, eh, I’m struggling a little. That is to say...hmm.” Narcissa stopped speaking and shook her head before taking a deep breath, “I apologize. I mean to say, I must remember that we are in this for a cause. We are working to spark a revolution. We may have agreed to move forward as if that weren’t the catalyst but, truly, it is. I should be grateful to at least be considered a friend to my spouse this time around.” Narcissa blinked rapidly and wiped an errant tear from her cheek.
“I think you’re considered much more than that, sister,” Andromeda said as she observed Hermione watching them carefully from across the room. “She looks ready to murder me for upsetting you.”
“She’s protective of all her friends, that’s one of the best parts of her,” Narcissa explained. She closed her eyes trying to force her emotions to stop as she heard Hermione walking over.
“Everything okay over here?” Hermione asked, gently running her hand up and down Narcissa’s spine.
“Mmhmm, we’re fine,” Andy answered.
“Narcissa?” Hermione stepped closer so she could see Narcissa’s face. “Are you okay, darling? Can I help with something?”
“Just a little sisterly chat, Mione. I’m fine,” Narcissa forced a smile.
Searching Narcissa’s eyes for honesty, Hermione simply nodded her head once and answered, “I don’t think that’s entirely accurate but, since we have guests, I’m going to let it slide. If whatever is going on is still bothering you later, can we talk about it after they leave?”
“I’m really fine, dear,” Narcissa pressed a quick kiss to Hermione’s lips before stepping away and gesturing to the sitting area.
“So, you’re just going to ignore the Decree?”
“I am,” Harry answered Mafalda, seeming quite unconcerned.
“And you aren’t worried about the repercussions,” she continued to press.
“Are they going to put me, Harry Potter, in Azkaban? For not marrying some random woman while my girlfriend finishes her last year of school?”
“Ah, you’re famous, you can do whatever you want,” Mafalda said snidely.
“I’m using my fame to my advantage and to show others that they, also, can just choose not to have their future determined by a random twenty-two year old in the Ministry basement. Who are you marrying Miss Hopkirk?”
“I’m a Ministry employee, they wouldn’t dare!”
“Wouldn’t they?” Narcissa chimed in. “I heard through the grapevine today that they’re trying to match Kingsley Shacklebolt with someone. If the Minister can be married off, anyone can.”
“They’re really going to make us do this, aren’t they,” Mafalda whispered.
“In fact,” Hermione spoke quietly back, “that’s why we invited you over. We don’t think the Ministry should be running roughshod over our lives this way. They assigned Narcissa and I to wed other people. Not just any other people but they specifically assigned Narcissa to re-wed Lucius. Her tormentor, her captor. That’s what the Wizaengamot thought of her heroics in the war.”
“But. You just dissolved that marriage. And they were putting you…”
“Yes. Right back in harm’s way. So, Miss Hopkirk, if you haven’t selected your own spouse yet, what are you going to do? Marry who they say, find your own partner, or avoid the institution all together?”
“I’m not planning to get married in the next year. If, by some lucky happenstance, I met the right witch or wizard, I would consider getting married again but...I can’t see myself settling down with some bloke I don’t know because the Wizengamot’s decided we look good together on paper. I guess I’ll be avoiding the institution all together. Like Harry.”
“Understandable,” Andy nodded along.
“But what about you two? You’re giving in and getting married. And so soon after getting together!”
Hermione smiled a small grin and rested her hand on Narcissa’s leg, “I know it seems that way but...it’s different for us. We want to marry each other. I can’t wait to marry Narcissa. This isn’t such an imposition for us, just kind of rushing things a bit. We are going to run into trouble with the baby-making-factory part of the Decree.”
“Well,” Narcissa leaned into Hermione with a devlish smirk on her face, “to be clear, as my Hermione likes to say, it’s not the baby-making part that’s going to be trouble.”
“Narcissa!” Hermione laughed in shock, looking quite scandalized.
“It’s just that we don’t want to actually produce any children just yet,” Narcissa finished, enjoying Hermione’s flaming red cheeks.