Narcissa

A burden to bear

Professor Slughorn ambled slowly between the desks, occasionally leaning in to take a whiff of the overflowing cauldrons. When he passed in front of Narcissa's, he had to hide his nose behind a handkerchief to avoid inhaling the foul odor of her failed potion.
"Not quite there, Black," he said, shaking his head. "I had hoped you'd inherited some of Andromeda and Bellatrix's talent... but it's clear you still have much to learn."
Narcissa lowered her head as the professor continued to praise her two older sisters. When he finished recounting an incredible episode involving Bellatrix and a complicated Living Death Potion, Slughorn took a vial filled with a fluid, silvery potion and handed it to Narcissa: "I would like you to have a potion identical to this one, in every way, by tomorrow. Same color, same density, and same smell. I'm counting on you."

Narcissa grabbed the glass vial and waited for the end of the lesson with her eyes welling up with humiliation. It wasn't the first time someone had pointed out how inferior she was to her sisters. It was hard for her to compete with Bellatrix and Andromeda, two witches who were skilled in any magical art. They were seemingly perfect. Seemingly! In her mind, Narcissa returned to the night she had discovered Andromeda's secret relationship with the Muggle-born. A few weeks had passed, weeks in which Andromeda had even stopped looking her in the face. Had she really broken up with him? It had to be so, Narcissa told herself. She still had the awareness that even someone like Andromeda, so proud, so unshakeable, had hidden weaknesses. Unspeakable secrets.

Narcissa was so immersed in her thoughts that, turning the corner of the corridor, she bumped into someone. In the collision, her books fell to the floor with a thud.

"Hey! Watch where you're putting your feet..." Lucius Malfoy stopped mid-sentence, having recognized the young woman in front of him. "Narcissa! Are you hurt?"

She timidly raised her eyes to the boy. "I'm fine. I... I'm sorry... I was daydreaming," she stammered. She felt so dazed and excited by Lucius's presence that, at first, she hadn't noticed the mess she had made. Only then, looking around, did she discover that she had broken Professor Slughorn's vial. All the potion had spilled onto the floor. "Oh no!" she exclaimed, putting her hand to her mouth.
Lucius looked at her curiously. "Was it something you needed?"
"A Potions assignment," Narcissa nodded, trying to suppress her anxiety.

"Nothing that can't be fixed," Lucius reassured her. He took out his wand and pronounced a spell: "Reparo." The glass shards rose and magically reassembled themselves. Still with his wand, the boy gathered the spilled potion from the floor in a matter of seconds and put it back into the repaired vial.

"Thank you," Narcissa whispered, grateful. Both she and Lucius leaned in to take the reconstituted vial, now hovering in mid-air, and gasped when their fingers touched. They quickly pulled their hands back as if they had just burned themselves. She felt the heat rising to her cheeks. She looked into his eyes, which she already knew were gray and shaded by thin eyebrows, and feared she could no longer control her heartbeat. Why on earth was he having this effect on her? She took the vial in her hands and examined it. "You know, I'd love to know a spell that could make me live up to my sisters, but I guess not all problems can be solved with magic. Right?" She felt no embarrassment in confiding in him, because Lucius seemed genuinely eager to listen.

"Is that what's bothering you?" he asked.

"Having such an important name is too heavy a burden sometimes."

"I know how you feel." Lucius gave her a languid smile as he sheathed his wand. "I too find myself having to work hard to be worthy of my illustrious ancestors." He scrutinized Narcissa's beautiful face, feeling a deep kinship with her. "We belong to two of the oldest families of pure-blood wizards in England, but this should not be a burden, but a source of pride."

"Of course!" Narcissa hastened to say. "I'm proud to be a Black, it's just that..."

"Believe me," Lucius interrupted her. "You have nothing to envy your sisters."

Narcissa wanted to retort something, but found herself unable to open her mouth. She waited until Lucius had walked down the corridor to join his friends, then leaned against the wall and sighed heavily.