We all say

that we'll quit someday

When our ship comes in, we'll just sail away

TW: Thoughts of Abuse

She had taken Lucius lunch, and she had actually remembered to take food with her. Which would have been the point of taking lunch, if that had actually been her intention. But Narcissa had had other reasons for going into the Ministry. Reasons that involved the arrival of the ICW more than anything else. She made a half decent distraction, and it was Friday. The witch had every intention of at least making her husband look forward to the weekend. Likely tomorrow would find him right back in the Ministry, and truly she didn’t mind, she knew that it was important. But she was also trying to do better. To act better. And that meant that she was going to play her part perfectly.

To be ice. To be glass. So beautiful, and so fragile. And she wanted to think that it was going to be that easy to maintain. That she could always be so flawless. Even the marks on her arms were hidden away. The elves had helped her with that this morning. There was no blemish on her ivory skin. Her lips were painted a pretty red. Her eyes lined perfectly. Clear, and blue, and bright. Her hair was back in the low ponytail that she had pulled it into this morning. Everything about her appearance gave the impression that she had barely tried at all, and yet turned out immaculate.

Narcissa had gotten very good at making sure that she looked a certain way, and she had fallen so easily back into those habits. Being his wife was an easy role to fill. She was sure, in some part of her soul, that she had been born to be Narcissa Malfoy. None of them would have survived if they would have stayed Blacks. Bella had had the easiest way out. She had been the first one. The oldest one. She had made her escape into Rodolphus’s bed, and then into the Dark Lord’s ranks. She had been untouchable.

Andromeda had disappeared next. Gone, in the middle of the day. Like she had never even been there at all. And Narcissa had been left alone. She had been locked away in that castle. Surrounded by the water. And sure, that she was going to die there. She hadn’t thought that she was going to make it out. But it didn’t matter. None of that mattered, because he had saved her. She belonged to him. And she had for four years by the time she was old enough to really leave.

There had been a part of her that nearly begged her father to marry him sooner. Before seventh year. Lucius had already graduated. She would have married him then. Gone back her seventh year as Narcissa Malfoy. She truly would have been untouchable then. But she hadn’t. She had finished her schooling as Narcissa Black, and married Lucius the week after she had graduated. He had been her white knight for a long time, and she thought that in a way, he still could be. Even if he didn’t think that he was. He was both the villain and the hero now though. It was a delicate line.

And it was one that she was walking very carefully today.

After spending the evening with her sister, the other night, Narcissa had felt better. There was really no explanation for it. There was no reason that her pain had lessened, but it had. It had faded considerably, and she hadn’t wrapped her ribs for a couple of days now. The bruises were gone. Healed in a way that she would have called magic, except that she hadn’t let him heal her. There was no way to explain why she was fine. But she was. And she wasn’t going to ruin that by toeing close enough to the line that he broke her again.

Right now, she thought that she still had the upper hand. He was still sorry for hurting her. The new strands of pearls in her jewelry box were proof of that. Proof that he was so sorry. They had come the next day. With the flowers. The apology never spoken, but given in his gifts, the presents that he sent home to her during the day. He had broken her ribs. And her wrist. He had bruised her face. And he had mended it with a bouquet and some pearls. And now she had the favor. She would have it, until something else displeased him.

Last time she had walked in front of him. Next time she could do something equally as mundane. Something that no one else would think twice about. Narcissa thought twice about everything. But he had seemed to like her dress. And she knew that it had been magically secured around her again when she had left the Ministry. There was no reason not to run a few errands before she went back to check on the progress at the Manor. Paychecks for several of the businesses were in her handbag, and she had Tinky drop her in each office as she went. At least until she headed for Diagon Alley.

The bookshop was quiet, but it was Friday afternoon before summer. There weren’t going to be a lot of people milling around for no reason. Not this time of year. And still, she weaved in and out of stacks and around shelves until she stopped to watch a young man that she didn’t think looked like he belonged in a bookshop at all, looking over a stack of some of the newest inventory that she recalled had only just come in at the beginning of the week.

She didn’t actually take the time to work in the shop. She was done working. Owning the bookshop was not the same as running the hotel had been. And Narcissa was not going back to that. Not now. Not after everything that had happened since she had gone home. This place had been her gift for leaving that job behind. She wasn’t supposed to work anymore. And yet, some of her genuine hospitality kicked in, and she smiled, “Good afternoon.”

@justin • 1027 •
narcissa's outfit - front + back

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0

I remember that time
we were sippin on wine

I could see it in your eyes, you were feeling alive
Why tell you I was good, why the fuck would I lie

This was exactly the type of shit people didn't know about him. Ever since his first record went off the charts everyone knew about Luxx. He was in the news, he was on the radio, he was everywhere all the time. People knew his songs. People knew that he liked to party, shit he went to enough events that everyone probably knew what his favorite drink was, but they didn't know this. And that was because Luxx and Justin were....well, they were almost different people.

It wasn't as though he had been in the UK long. In fact it had only been about four years since he had hopped the pond to come over here, and when he had he had been just like everyone else. He wasn't famous or rich like he was now. The polar opposite, actually. He was the brokest of the broke. A college. Fucking. Student. Living in a flat with four other people, working at a coffee shop in Ottery just trying to make ends meet.  Everything that had come after his graduation hadn't been expected. He hadn't worked for it. And that drove a lot of people in the industry fucking crazy. Justin didn't care about that, but what he did care about were the things he did work for.

Magical history was the most important thing to him. This music gig was fun, and yeah he'd ride the gravy train as long as it lasted, but this wasn't his forever home. He wasn't out here trying to make a name for himself like the Weird Sisters. He wasn't looking to be permanent. History was supposed to have been where he ended up. Teaching it, writing about it, opperating museums about it-- whatever his heart desired he wanted to do. Hell, if they ever had a Drunk Magical History series on TV he'd work his ass off to be the star for that! It was his passion above all else, even above the music.

That didn't change the fact that he had a sold out concert in a couple of hours. He was still due to be spitting rhymes into a mic for a screaming sea of fans. Luxx had his shit together. Luxx was working, man. But Justin...he still needed to make a name for himself. He knew full well that if he wanted fast success he could just slap his stage name on anything and sell it like hot cakes. He didn't want that. As a matter of fact, he didn't want that persona mixed in with his work as an author at all. Which was exactly why he had stuck his birth name on everything he sent to publishers. It was the name that was printed on the books he had in his never ending hoodie pocket that he was ever so sneakily placing in this random and unsuspecting bookstore.

Why was he doing this? What was the point? Well, ancient Chinese secret, mother fuckers-- one that his mom had told him about. She had written a few books in her time and her secret to starting out was simple. If you wanted to sell your books, first order of business was to Get. Your. Books. In. A Store. Now, that was easier said than done. Publishing companies would gladly produce the damn things but getting them on shelves? That was the hard part. So he decided to take his mom's advice and put them there his own damn self.So, yeah, these first fifteen copies were on him. You are welcome, random book store. If he was lucky the fifteen copies would sell, the book store would notice they were down to one more and order some more from the actual publisher. At least, that was the hope. And dream. And plan. What wasn't in the plan? Getting fUCKING CAUGHT. 

Justin casually looked over the books he had ever so sneakily placed, acting as though he were a buyer and not a....putter-er. The woman walking through the store had no pattern. He couldn't predict her swing. And she was so damn tiny a stray gust of wind could blow her any which way. He tried to keep an eye on her while simultaneously wishing he was more and less high at the same fucking time, all the while trying not to look like he needed assistance. He thought he was winning at this game until-- Fuck, he made eye contact. And, yep, there was the standard greeting. Shit.

"Morning," he greeted back with the kind of tight lipped smile that said he was a complete dumb ass. It was afternoon, Justin. She just said that. Sweet Jesus. "Well, it's like morning for me," a goofy giggle came tumbling out and he shoved his hands in his pocket hoping to hide any edges of his books possibly sticking out, "I'm one of those...like, opposite of an early bird kind of people." Justin grinned cheerfully. If morning came at around 1pm he would make quite a nice early bird, truly. His night owl tendencies seemed to keep him far from earning any early riser title, but no matter the time of day he was almost always in a good mood. 

@narcissa | Outfit | Notes: 868

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0