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A Forbidden Love Chapter 1.
🕑 Added 2024-01-03 04:35:22 +0000 UTCBlurb:
What lengths would a mother go to to protect her child? Narcissa never thought she'd have to answer that question until her husband's stupidity led her to enter into a bargain with the Dark Lord's greatest enemy.
Sometimes the world gets it's greatest heroes by complete accident. As for love, well, one always finds it in the place they least expect it.
(Short Story AU where Narcissa goes to Harry for help after meeting Snape. Hogwarts starts at 14.)
Content Warnings: Teasing.
“No!”
Narcissa frowned at the scream. Her daughter was just as strong-willed as her husband and had just as big a sweet tooth as he did. She watched as the girl pushed her plate away.
“No brussel sprouts!”
“Darling, you know you have to eat them or you’ll upset Kreacher,” Narcissa murmured. She pulled a chair and dragged it next to Lily's, giving the blonde girl a small smile. “If you want story time when papa gets home you better finish dinner.”
“I want story time now!”
Narcissa chuckled.
“Well, I’m not as good as your papa or godmother when it comes to stories, but I guess I can give it a try. What kind of story do you want?”
“How did you and papa meet?” Lily asked, staring at her mother with big green eyes.
How indeed?
Narcissa thought back to the night everything had changed. It wasn’t something she could tell her daughter, not until she was old enough to understand why an aunt she had never met had nearly killed her mama.
So, she launched into a heavily sanitized version of what had happened, keeping the real events locked away in her mind for a later date.
“You see, your papa has always been my knight in shining armor. He saved me…”
---
It was supposed to have been so easy. Get out of a horrible marriage, keep your only child safe, and wash away some of the guilt she had accumulated over two decades. All she had to do in return was keep her eyes and ears open.
A spy. That was what she had become. That was what she would have called herself had she been thinking rationally.
A spy for a man she didn’t know, snooping on her husband and sister, and a man so terrifying she couldn’t even utter his name. And she had done it for an organization she did not trust.
It was insanity, but what mother was sane when it came to her child?
Perhaps that was why Severus had sent her to him. He understood her pain in a way few others would have.
To his credit, he had kept his promise till the very end. Draco had been found unharmed at the foot of the stairs of the Astronomy Tower, stunned by an unknown person before he could kill a disarmed Albus Dumbledore. Severus had finished the job her son had started but Draco’s soul had remained untainted.
What happened next should have made her walk away but she didn’t. She kept spying even after Severus switched his allegiance even though he knew her secret. She kept betraying the Dark Lord even after Draco was out of immediate danger.
At some point, her actions had become less about keeping her son safe and more about protecting him.
But she wasn’t ready to acknowledge that, not yet.
She wasn’t ready to face him either. He had entrusted her with an enormous responsibility and she had let him down through sheer ineptness and pride.
It wasn’t like she had any other options. She had no wand, no money, and zero knowledge of the Muggle world. She had managed to escape with nothing but the clothes on her back and even the dress she wore was gashed in a dozen different places. Her blonde hair was spilling out of its messy bun. She had a black eye and swollen, bloody lips, and was bleeding from all the cuts Bellatrix had made on her body. Every Muggle that passed her stared at her and even she knew it was only a matter of time before one of them called their Aurors to report the shivering, battered woman standing on the pavement, staring wistfully at an old building.
Narcissa took a deep breath and crossed the street. She waited until the door to Number 12 appeared and pushed it open. She walked into the dilapidated and quiet hallway, ignoring the sleeping portrait of her aunt to her left. The dust carpeting the wooden floor swirled as soon as she entered. An ominous sign, but she was committed. She ignored the pounding in her chest and slowly walked deeper into her ancestral home, suppressing memories both good and bad. She could reminisce once she was safe.
She needed a place to crash for the night and any supplies Harry could spare for her. She’d be out of his hair as soon as she could walk, that was if he didn’t kick her out before that for her failure. She just wished Dobby had accompanied her inside but the excitable house elf had apparated away immediately, intending to throw anyone pursuing them off her trail.
The swirling dust gathered at the far end of the hallway and took the form of a man. The figure growled, the sound booming off the walls.
“You killed me.”
Narcissa froze. She had never directly killed anyone and she wasn’t sure who the man standing in front of her was. Was it someone her husband had killed? Was this another crime she was guilty of by association?
“MURDERER!” the man yelled and charged at her.
Narcissa closed her unswollen eye but the figure dissipated into a cloud of dust before it hit her.
“She didn’t kill you, Mad-Eye.”
Narcissa timidly opened her eye and saw two wands pointed squarely at her.
Harry ignored his friends and strode towards her, his eyebrows raised in surprise.
Was that anger on his face? Was he upset with her presence or with the fact that it (and her appearance) clearly meant she had been caught?
“I’m sorry.” The words escaped her lips before she could help herself. “I was stupid enough to get caught and I didn’t know where else to go. I didn’t know if you’d be here.”
“We’ve rarely gone out the week we’ve been here. It’s too risky. Come on, let’s get you in the kitchen before Walburga wakes up. Kreacher is cooking dinner.”
“What happened?” Hermione asked, finally lowering her wand.
“Bellatrix,” Narcissa mumbled, swallowing a mouthful of blood. “She promised to give me a quick death.”
“Guess she didn’t follow through on that.”
There was no warmth in the girl’s voice but no hatred either. Narcissa knew that was all she could hope for given everything Hermione had to endure because of her son, husband, and sister.
“Trust me, what she was doing to me was the quick version.” Her swollen lips curved into a bitter smile. “She decided to grant me the small mercy of torturing me to death instead of feeding me to Nagini.”
“How did you get here?!” Ron growled, his face red.
“I told her.”
“What?! When?!”
“When she met me for coffee in Hogsmeade a few months ago. Professor Dumbledore gave me a piece of paper and I slipped it to her. It let her bypass the Fidelius Charm,” Harry said shortly. He wrapped his calloused fingers around her small, bruised hand and gently tugged on it. “Nobody was using this house after Sirius died and she was searching for a safe house so I brought her under the Fidelius. Now move, Ron.”
“She’s the enemy,” the redhead hissed as they walked around him and into the dining room.
Harry didn’t bother with a response. He simply got her settled into a chair and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving her to study the familiar room with her uninjured eye.
“Nothing’s changed,” she murmured as she ran her fingers across the polished wood of the dining table. The same walls, the same floor, the same table, hell, even the candleholders were unchanged.
“We’ve been somewhat busy,” Hermione muttered. She flopped onto a chair with a sigh and propped up her legs on the table. “Didn’t get around to redecorating.”
“Plus Kreacher gets upset and gives us boiled brussel sprouts for dinner if we touch anything. I’m more concerned with what’s on the plates than the plates themselves,” Harry said with a chuckle.
Narcissa smiled fondly at the annoyed grunt that came from the kitchen. The old elf had always been a grump. Her smile disappeared and she tensed when Ron slipped into the chair behind hers and kept his wand pointed at her.
“Why are you here?” he growled.
“Did you expect her to just lie down and let her insane sister torture her to death, Ronald?” Hermione asked, huffing in annoyance. “Before you ask, she’s been spying on Harry’s behalf for the last year. We didn’t tell you because you have the emotional range of a teaspoon and can be shockingly childish about certain things. Put the wand away before Harry sees it and gets upset.”
Why would Harry get upset with his friend threatening her?
Narcissa didn’t have time to dwell on the possible answers to the latest question in her mind. Mere seconds after the redhead had grumbled and pocketed his wand, Harry emerged from the kitchen balancing a box and a bowl of water in his hands.
“Later,” Harry muttered, shooting a warning glare in Ron’s direction. He carefully placed the wooden box and bowl of water on the table before pulling the chair next to hers away from the table. He turned it around until it faced her and sat down on it. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you but we aren’t going to discuss this right now.”
“I’m going to check the wards and make sure she didn’t tamper with them,” Rom grumbled and stomped out of the room.
“He has no idea how to do that, does he?” Harry asked, looking at Hermione with an exasperated smile.
“I doubt he can even name the wards that are protecting the house. I better go and make sure he doesn’t accidentally damage them.” Hermione stood and paused for a second. “You’re safe here,” she muttered as she walked out of the room.
“Thanks,” Narcissa mumbled. She swallowed another mouthful of blood and turned her head to avoid looking at Harry. The last time she had met the handsome young man she had been a beautiful witch, perhaps past her prime but still retaining the charm that had once bewitched half of Hogwarts. Now she was a broken shell of her former self and no longer of any use to him.
“For what? If anything, I should be thanking you. You saved our ass in London by warning us. We would still be using the fuckwit’s name if we didn’t know they placed it under a taboo spell,” Harry murmured. “At least now we have a safe haven instead of having to run from place to place, wondering how they found us.”
“Is that what you’re calling him? Fuckwit?” Narcissa smiled, then immediately winced when the gesture caused a new tear to open in her lower lip. It began to bleed and Harry immediately pressed a cotton ball doused in dittany against it.
“Yeah. It sounds wrong when you say it. A proper lady like you should stay away from a word like fuckwit,” Harry teased. “Can you please take off your dress?”
“A proper lady like me doesn’t undress for a man she’s not married to either,” Narcissa teased back. Her gray eyes sparkled and despite her injuries and mental anguish, she suddenly felt twenty years younger.
Harry blushed.
“It’s just… uh… the dittany evaporates quickly. We don’t have a lot of it and it’ll be easier if I… you can do it yourself I’ll wait-”
“Relax,” Narcissa whispered. She held up her hands to show him her bruised and swollen fingers. “I think it’ll be better if do it yourself. I’ll just forget my manners when I’m around you.” She winked with her uninjured eye and stood, turning around until her back was to him.
“You’re remarkably relaxed for someone who was just tortured,” Harry remarked to distract himself. He’d never gone further than kissing anyone, and he had certainly never undressed a woman before. Was she wearing something underneath? What would he do if she wasn’t? It wasn’t like he was blind. There was something ageless about Narcissa’s beauty.
Stop thinking with your dick, he scolded himself and grabbed the zipper of her green dress. He couldn’t help but notice that the dress matched the color of his eyes. He pulled it down her back and the dress drooped down her shoulders. Harry was relieved to see that she was wearing a conservative white bra underneath.
“You have that effect on people. Fuckwit terrorizes them and you make them feel safe. Has anyone told you that?” Narcissa asked with a quiet hiss. Pulling her arms free of the dress was an extremely painful but necessary affair. She turned around and faced him once the dress was bunched up around her waist. “Besides, torture was a daily occurrence in that manor. It became a fact of life. This was just the first time I was on the receiving end.”
“Uh… not really,” Harry murmured, his blush deepening. He cleared his throat and frowned. “Did you ever have to… torture anyone?” he asked as he helped Narcissa wiggle out of her dress. He kicked it to one corner of the room once she had stepped out of it. She was left in her underwear and she tried to wrap her arms around her chest, only to have to give up because of the pain.
“No. They treated me as their maid and I was happy to stick to that. I never took the mark, not even after Draco did,” Narcissa said. She turned her hand to show him her bare wrist.
“How is he? Did they…”
Narcissa shook her head. “Bellatrix sent him to his room. Another kindness, I suppose. In her own twisted way, I’m sure she thought she was doing me a favor. He went without saying anything,” Narcissa said, her voice emotionless. She watched him carefully tend to the various wounds on her body, letting him manipulate it how he saw fit. He carefully cleaned each cut on her skin with a wet cloth before applying dittany on it and covering it with a clean bandage. Again and again, he repeated the same actions, his calloused fingers unfathomably gentle. He paused after every wince, looking at her to make sure she was okay before he continued.
It was more kindness than she had ever experienced in her life. It broke something fundamental in her and if she had any tears to spare she would have started sobbing uncontrollably. Her wounds weren’t cursed and would heal by morning, her mind… she wasn’t sure how long that would take to recover.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Sometimes your child is a massive disappointment despite your best efforts. My only regret is that I wasn’t brave enough to walk out when he was younger. Maybe things would have been different if I had raised him far away from his father’s influence.”
“Who knows… after the war-”
“The things I’ve seen him do… he’s going to Azkaban after the war, Harry. You don’t have to sugarcoat it for me. Prison and the fact that he didn’t protest even when I was screaming in agony might be slight impediments to us rebuilding our relationship.”
“Slight?” Harry raised an eyebrow. He kept his attention focused on her face even while he tended to the wounds on her body, not wanting to embarrass her. He was certain his body would have an undesirable response if he paid any attention to the large pale mounds barely contained by her bra.
“Impossible. I think that would be a better word.”
“A month ago I’d have agreed with you.”
“Not anymore?”
“My cousin recently hugged me and told me to take care of myself. I guess miracles do happen.”
“I doubt I’ll ever be able to get over my son being fine with my death, Harry. Not when I…” Narcissa trailed off. She shrugged after a moment and let Harry help her sit again. “It is what it is.”
Harry nodded. He understood where she was coming from. After all, everything she had done, she had done for her useless son.
“I thought he was the one who helped you escape,” Harry murmured. He bent and grabbed one ankle and then the next, pulling her slender legs onto his lap. He began to tend to the knife cuts on her unblemished skin, gently applying dittany to them before covering them with a bandage.
“That was Severus. He reminded me that a certain house elf would come to my aid if I called for him when Bellatrix left to grab some of her ‘toys’. Dobby got me out of the manor.”
“What?! Snape?!”
Narcissa shrugged again. “He’s a complicated man, Harry. I don’t know why he helped me escape. I don’t even know who he truly serves. Maybe he’s just looking out for those he cares for.”
“Someone once told me that’s the hallmark of a true Slytherin.”
“I remember.” She smiled fondly. Their secret meeting in Hogsmeade had been a rare bright spot in an otherwise horrible year. “Do you think your friend will let me borrow her wand? I want to release you from your vow.”
“Narcissa you don’t have to-”
“I do. If you face my son in battle, and there’s a high chance you will, I won’t have you do it with one hand tied behind your back.”
“If we duel one of us might-”
“Yes.” Narcissa nodded. “I’d prefer it not be you, which is why I must release you from the vow you made.”
“You’re being remarkably calm about this as well.”
“I guess I’m in shock.” A humorless chuckle escaped her lips. “I’ve already lost my son, Harry. I’m sure I’ll have to deal with that fact in the coming days, but I’m just… numb right now.”
“That’s the dittany. It’s amazing,” Harry joked in an attempt to lighten the mood. He cleaned and bandaged the last two cuts on her arms before pulling away. “We’ve recently finished cleaning the three bedrooms on the first floor. Ron sleeps in the first one. Hermione prefers to sleep on the foldout couch in the library. You can sleep in either of the remaining two.”
“What about you?”
“I like to sleep in Sirius’ room. It’s still a mess but it’s the only room in this bloody house I can get some sleep in. Hermione jokes that his spirit keeps me safe from nightmares.”
“When I was growing up my room was the one next to his. We used to talk all night by tapping on the adjoining wall. We even had our own secret code,” Narcissa said with a sad smile. “I’m pretty sure that’s where he got the idea for those mirrors. I think I’ll take the third room on the first floor. That used to be Andy’s room.”
“What did you do with the one I-”
“Smashed it. I managed to break it just before Lucius came barging in.” Narcissa winced as she stood. She glanced at her discarded dress. She never wanted to look at it, let alone wear it again but it wasn’t like she had any other options.
“Give me a second,” Harry said, correctly guessing her conundrum. He walked over to the door and poked his head out to make sure Ron and Hermione weren’t in the hallway or on the staircase. “The coast is clear. Why don’t you go to your room and I’ll come up once I’ve had a conversation with Ron. I’ll bring you something to wear.”
Narcissa nodded and limped over to the door. She made sure the hallway was still empty before slipping out of the room and walking to the staircase as fast as possible. Every step she climbed sent a current of pain shooting up her spine. She paused after the first turn and leaned against the wall to catch her breath, unable to go any further.
It wasn’t long before the shouting began and even though she knew she was intruding on a private discussion, she couldn’t bring herself to move.
The Weasley boy- she always forgot his name- began yelling at the top of his voice. He kept going and going and going, calling her every name and slur under the sun until she heard Harry’s roar.
“SHUT UP, RON!”
She didn’t know why he was so angry. Ron was being unkind, yes, but a lot of what he had said had technically been true.
“-YOU’RE TAKING HER SIDE-”
“WHY SHOULDN'T I?”
“-SHE IS HIS WIFE-”
“WAS.”
Harry’s voice was as cold as ice.
“Still am,” Narcissa mumbled under her breath. She would continue to be a Malfoy until either she or Lucius died. She doubted Wizengamot would accept her petition for a divorce anytime soon.
“SHE NEEDS TO GO!”
Hermione joined the fray, which confused Narcissa even more. She was certain the brunette barely tolerated her presence, treating her like a useful tool that had to be kept around until it had served its purpose.
“ARE YOU INSANE RON?” Hermione yelled.
“ARE YOU TAKING THAT TREACHEROUS BINT’S… HARRY YOU CAN’T SERIOUSLY BE CONSIDERING LETTING HER JOIN US?”
“She is staying. She already knows everything and even if she didn’t there’s no world where I make her leave.” Harry’s voice was one of controlled fury.
His voice caused an unfamiliar flutter to awaken in her belly and Narcissa decided she had finally gone insane.
“I… listen, I’m not saying he’s right, Harry. But I can understand where he’s coming from, even if he’s being horrible at explaining his concerns. I’ll talk to him. Go take care of Narcissa!” Hermione growled, sounding utterly exasperated. “RON! Come with me to the kitchen and grab something to eat, it’ll help you feel better.”
“I’m not staying in the same house as that bin-woman!”
“That’s alright. You know where the door is, Ronald,” Harry said coldly. “You’re welcome to leave whenever you want.”
Narcissa ignored her pain and hurried up the stairs the moment she heard a door slam shut. She ignored the first two doors and walked over to the third, quietly pushing it open and slipping inside her sister’s old room.
Andy had stripped it bare before she ran away and nobody had seen it fit to restore anything. The walls were devoid of paintings. The closet door was open and every shelf inside was bare. The nightstands were empty as well. Narcissa walked across the cold, uncarpeted wooden floor and slumped onto the mattress. She tucked her legs under her body and stared at the fire blazing behind the ornate brass grill of the fireplace, focusing on the flickering flames.
She didn’t know how long she sat there, staring at the fire with vacant eyes and an expressionless face. After what seemed like an eternity, there was a knock on the door.
“Enter,” she murmured without taking her eyes away from the fireplace.
Harry pushed open the door with his shoulder and walked inside, his arms laden with pillows, a bedsheet, blankets, and unfamiliar clothes.
“You’ve thought of everything,” Narcissa murmured. “You shouldn’t have bothered. I’ll leave tomorrow. Dobby will take me someplace else. I hear Cornwall is lovely.”
“You aren’t going anywhere else. You need time to recover,” Harry muttered with a frown. He arranged the pillows by the headboard and gently prodded her until she stood.
She tried to help him with the bedsheet, only for him to gently push her out of the way. His palm on the bare skin of her back sent a current up her spine and she shivered despite the warm room.
“The wounds will heal by tomorrow.”
“I wasn’t talking about the wounds.”
“I don’t want to be a bother.” She paused, then gathered her courage and continued. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry but I overheard Ronald-”
“Don’t be. He’s not exactly subtle when he throws a tantrum. I’m surprised half the street didn’t hear him.” Harry rolled his eyes. He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down before he continued. “This is my house. If he doesn’t like who lives in it he’s free to leave.”
“He’s your friend.”
“So are you. And right now only one of you is acting like an immature twat.”
“So you’ll kick me out if I act like an immature… twat?” Narcissa asked, rolling the unfamiliar word on her tongue. She obediently sat on the bed when he took her hand and led her to it. She watched him lay out the clothes he had grabbed for her with a small smile.
“Do you plan on being one? What would that even look like?”
“I could go slap Ronald for calling me a whore.”
“He didn’t…” Harry trailed off and blushed. “He didn’t call you that.”
“He implied as much. He seems to think my breasts have hypnotic powers. How else could they make you do what I want?”
“He’s an idiot,” Harry muttered, assiduously avoiding looking at the breasts in question. “Your breasts are fine.”
“Just fine? They were voted as the knockers most likely to smother a man when I was in the seventh year,” Narcissa teased. There was something extremely therapeutic about the silly flirting. If she closed her eyes she could almost imagine them having their conversation over a cup of coffee in the Muggle café where they’d first met.
“They’re… uhm, they’re amazing,” Harry mumbled. His blush deepened and the red extended down to his neck, a fact that wasn’t missed by Narcissa.
“I didn’t know you had eyes in the back of your head, Harry. You haven’t even looked at them.”
Harry slowly turned around and lowered his gaze. He immediately regretted it. A certain body part immediately stirred to life and he could only pray that he’d be able to end the night without making a massive mess.
Who’s the fuckwit now? She’s hurt you moron, you need to stop thinking with your dick!
“I’m beginning to think maybe Ronald was right. They do indeed have hypnotic powers,” Narcissa giggled.
She didn’t know if acting like a hormonal idiot was a trauma response or if her brain had finally decided to embrace how she felt around him. She realized she did not care in the slightest as long as it helped her forget what her sister and husband had done to her.
Harry tore his eyes away from her chest and coughed awkwardly.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, his cheeks burning.
“Don’t be. It’s been two decades since someone has stared at me. You’d think I was a hag.”
“What? Nobody ever-”
“Lucius won’t stick his dick in you if you don’t massage his ego. There’s only so many things a girl can lie about.” Narcissa shrugged. “I was house decoration long before the Dark Lord came back. He preferred young idiots who truly believed their three minutes with him were the best they’d ever have. Others stared when they thought I wasn’t looking but where’s the fun in that? They wouldn’t do it openly because they were afraid of my husband. But you’re not, are you?”
“I’m not what?” Harry asked, busying himself with folding and unfolding the shirt he had laid out on the bed.
“Afraid of my husband.”
“Malfoy is worryingly low on the list of people I’m scared of,” Harry said with a snort. “I’ll be honest, Wormtail worries me more than your husband does.”
Narcissa tried to grab his chin, a task made nearly impossible by her bandaged fingers.
Harry obliged after the third try, telling himself he was doing it to make sure she didn’t hurt herself, not because he wanted another excuse to look at her.
“Then there’s no reason for you not to stare at me, is there?” Narcissa asked softly. “I don’t mind it. It makes me feel less like the old hag I am.”
Nobody with functioning eyes would have thought of her as an old hag. Harry tried his best to ignore the strange fluttering in his chest as he studied her light gray eyes, thick lashes, and plump, blood-red lips. He ruthlessly suppressed his urge to trace the contour of her sharp cheekbones with his finger.
She was gorgeous and nobody would question it if she told them they were the same age. She didn’t look a day over twenty. He didn’t dare lower his gaze further, not when his pants were already uncomfortably tight.
“I’ll help you get dressed and then you should sleep. You need to get some rest.”
And you need to stop, he thought, lowering his gaze to his crotch. It was bloody embarrassing, doubly so because they hadn’t done anything. Even their conversation could easily be written off as playful banter between friends.
Where were you when I was snogging Ginny, huh?
Maybe you have a type-
No, I don’t, Harry snapped at the voice in his head.
He decided to leave it at that and divert his attention, hoping the problem would go away if he ignored it.
“Will you tuck me in too? Make sure your patient is snug and warm?” Narcissa asked, batting said eyelashes innocently. Feeling like a young girl again wasn’t the worst thing in the world, she decided. It helped her forget all the shite she had swallowed in her two decades of married life.
Fuck, we have a type.
Harry had nothing to say to the voice in his head so he simply grunted and nodded in response to her request.
He picked up the shirt and waited for her to raise her bandaged arms before slipping it over her head. It was one of his old jerseys and the garment hung loosely off her curvy frame, running down to the middle of her thighs.
“This was the best I could do, sorry. Nothing of Hermione’s would fit you so I grabbed a shirt from my cupboard.”
“It’s perfect, thank you,” Narcissa said softly. It smelled like him, something she already knew would be invaluable in grounding her to reality when the inevitable nightmares came. “And the shorts?” she asked, watching him kneel in front of her. He helped her feet into the holes of the shorts and pulled them up her legs. She stood to let him pull them up, another current shooting up her spine when his knuckles brushed against her bare waist.
“They’re Hermione’s. They’ll be pretty… well, short. Snug too. But I’m sure you can manage for one night. I’ll do some shopping for you when we go out tomorrow.”
“Have you ever shopped for a woman, Harry?”
“N-not really.” Harry stammered with a frown. It was hard to lead a complete life with a partner when one’s entire existence was devoted to the destruction of an evil wizard. “But how hard can it be? If you tell me your size, I’ll grab you some shirts and jeans.”
“I don’t wear jeans, Harry.”
“Dresses?” Harry offered.
Narcissa nodded. “What about underwear? I’ll need bras and panties.”
“Right! I guess I’ll grab those too.”
“And toiletries? I need nine different lotions for my nightly skincare routine. Are you sure you’ll be able to get the right ones?”
Harry stared at her, completely dumbfounded. His frown turned into a smile when he noticed the corners of her lips twitch.
“You’re messing with me,” he muttered with a grin.
“Just a little,” Narcissa said with a genuine smile. “I’m not insane, Harry. I just need three.”
“Right. Uh-”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind stealing from you and Miss Granger until I’m strong enough to accompany you on a quick shopping trip.”
“We buy things from Muggle stores. We can’t risk going to Diagon Alley.”
“Of course,” Narcissa whispered, nodding in understanding. “I learn something new every time I meet you. This shall be my first real foray into the Muggle world.”
“For now I think you should make a foray into your bed. It’s getting late and you need your rest,” Harry murmured.
Without thinking too much about it he took her hand and helped her up the bed. Once she had settled down on the pillows and made herself comfortable he unfolded the blanket and covered her with it. He wrapped it around her, trying to make sure she was as snug as possible.
“Harry?”
“Yes, Cissa?” Harry asked distractedly. He had noticed the welts on the soles, injuries that he had completely missed while tending to her.
Narcissa blushed.
Cissa.
She’d never had a nickname before and she decided she liked the one he’d given her very much.
Cissa.
Cissa.
“Narcissa?”
His gentle shaking broke her out of her reverie.
“Hmm?” she asked, turning to look at him with pink cheeks. His hand was on her shoulder and the gentle way his fingers dug into her skin was enough to awaken an extremely inappropriate part of her brain.
She determinedly ignored the growing tightness in her belly and shot him a nervous smile. “What’s wrong?”
“Your soles. What happened to them? Those welts don’t look like the other injuries on your body.”
“That’s because Bellatrix didn’t make them. Rodolphus did. He hexed me whenever he thought I wasn’t moving fast enough.”
“And Malfoy let it happen?” Harry asked, aghast.
“There is nothing more important to my husband than self-preservation. He was still in the doghouse and he didn’t want to do anything that might antagonize the Dark Lord or his favorites,” Narcissa answered with a shrug. “It’s okay. The welts don’t hurt as much as the cuts did. My husband was too much of a wimp to ever punish me during our marriage so fate saw it fit to condense all the punishments I’ve earned in one year,” she teased, trying to lighten the mood. She didn’t like it when he worried, especially about her. She was undeserving of his concern.
“Why would… wait, you wanted Malfoy to punish you? Why? For what?”
“Name one Pureblood who hasn’t put his wife across his knee at least once a week. To be quite honest I was looking forward to it when I got married.”
It was Harry’s turn to blush.
“You’re joking, right?”
Narcissa winked with her uninjured eye.
“You’re strange.”
“Strange is interesting. Strange is unique,” Narcissa murmured with a small smile.
“So, he never punished you? Guess he did one thing right,” Harry muttered.
“I didn’t say that. One could argue that him visiting my bed for three minutes every night until I gave him an heir was the biggest punishment he could give me,” Narcissa muttered. Lying about his sexual prowess had gotten extremely tedious, especially since he’d finished and pulled out of her faster than the time it took for her nipples to get hard. Cold fucking air had been more arousing than her sorry excuse for a husband.
“I won’t disagree with you,” Harry muttered, frowning.
We need to kill him, the voice in his head spoke up without being prompted.
I- what?!
He touched Narcissa, he needs to die.
Harry rolled his eyes. Sometimes his inner monologue was frighteningly bloodthirsty.
Of course, he touched her. How do you think Draco came into this world?
That shut up the voice in his head and he turned his attention back towards Narcissa.
She was looking up at him with big gray eyes, chewing her lower lip worriedly.
“Don’t. You’ll reopen all your wounds,” Harry murmured. He reached out and gently freed her lip from her teeth, not noticing the faint smattering of pink coating her pale cheeks. “I’m sure you know where Sirius’ room is. I’m a light sleeper. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to knock.”
“Okay,” Narcissa whispered, her throat dry. “Are you sure you don’t want me to leave tomorrow? Ronald-”
“Is being a child,” Harry said firmly, cutting her off. “I’m not sending you anywhere. If he doesn’t like that he can either deal with it like the grown man he is or leave.”
“Okay. I’m also sorry that I couldn’t find more information about the-”
“You need to stop blaming yourself. You have nothing to apologize for. Goodnight, Narcissa.” Acting on impulse, he leaned over and gently kissed her forehead. “Thank you for having my back,” he whispered as he pulled away. He smiled and walked out of the room, gently shutting the door behind her.
I’ll always have your back, Narcissa thought, continuing to stare at the shut door until sleep took her.
Notes:
'A Forbidden Love' is a three chapter short story. I really loved the idea behind this story because I haven't written a story set in the later stages of the war yet, and because Narcissa rarely gets a proper redemption arc. I like the idea of a morally gray! Narcissa who truly redeems herself. I also love the idea of Harry and Narcissa both finding love and intimacy for the first time in each other. Also, standalone Harry/Narcissa stories deserve more love! Any predictions for what happens in Chapters 2 and 3?
Comments
Coady
I really hope to see the other 2 chapters sometime
Brian Jordan
I only found this story recently but am looking forward to the next part. Is it too much to hope that Ron and Narcissa can have a conversation that actually helps him get past his own prejudices as matters move forward? (Honestly, I expect that writing 'Ron acts like a spoiled brat... again' is getting rather boring.)
Coady
Narcissa's nobility and self-sacrifice shines through and Harry's pig-headed prat pal Ron fails to blind him to it. I love it! We need more!
Ziz
Amazing story cant wait for the next chapter! If there is one hopefully there is
