The Tempest

The Tempest


By: Max

[Disclaimer: see chapter 1]

Chapter 2: Narcissa’s Journal, part 2: The Ice Princess


“Pride shouldn’t rule our lives …” This line I kept in my memory as I kept the handkerchief – blue silk with a tiny silver falcon embroidered on it – in my trunk. It became a kind of mascot to me though I only took it out when I was away from Hogwarts. But it was with me the first summer I spent at Malfoy Mansion and I remember how I hid it under my pillow as Lucius came into my room in the middle of the night for what he named “a little advance”. He was drunk - later I soon learn that he needed to drink to come to me – and as I turned away from him because his breath made me feel sick, he became angry and pulled his wand out. “It’s your choice, Narcissa,” he said. “You can obey me voluntary as a good wife should do or you can do it under imperio. In the first case I’ll play nicely and settle for a blow job, in the second case I’ll fuck your tight, lily white Veela’s arse.”

I performed oral sex on him – and the more I detested it, the more he seemed to like it. He didn’t stop talking through the entire act – and it actually helped me because it was so bizarre and ridiculous how he praised his rather small penis as “the huge sword I’ll soon spear you through and through with”.

Yet I learned something by it. Lucius was – or rather is – actually not a strong man. He’s weak and he is far from being the sexual maniac he pretends to be. I think he’s actually not very interested in sex. He only pretends to be because it belongs to the picture of the strong wizard he wants to show the world. And, being actually quite insecure, he needs to talk himself and his partner into believing he’s a sex god. I’m part Veela – that means: I’m talented in matters of sex, at least when it comes to techniques and to manipulating weak men. I’d learned in this first holidays at Malfoy Mansion, that I’d need a lot of good tricks to deal with Lucius, so I made learning “ars armatori” to be my special project during my last year at Hogwarts.

And if there is a place one can get a proper education in matters of sex at Hogwarts, then it is Slytherin house with its well hidden, “special” library. It’s tricky enchanted: The really interesting books were all so bewitched that they show their true contents only to seventh year students and only when they were alone with them.

I finished probably every book out of this special section of Slytherin’s library – and I remember how in my last summer I sat once with one of these books on my favourite bench in the rose garden, just learning about lubrication spells for all kind of acts. Suddenly the headmaster stood next to me. I felt very clever then because I was so absolutely convinced that he’d only see a book about the care of roses in my lap and I even became nasty at him, saying provoking: “Malfoy Manor has a wonderful rose garden …”

He nodded and I became almost furious because he didn’t look angry, but only sad disadisappointed. And as he said “Roses have thorns, Narcissa” I balled my fists, suddenly wanting to jump at him, screaming and shaking him out of his calmness.

He went away without another word and left me back in my confusion. I didn’t understand why I was so furious at him. I didn’t understand why he could get under my skin with only one gaze out of his blue eyes.

Do you smile now, Albus? No, I don’t think you do. People believe you’re omniscient, but we both knew: You didn’t know that I had already started to love you. In this you were – forgive my bluntness – not only far from being omniscience, but even slower than most other men. I’d even say you showed exceptional thickness. You made me more than once think: “Why must he be so much of a Gryffindor?”

Yet I have to admit: That afternoon in the rose garden I didn’t know about my love for you myself. I only knew that I hated the sadness in your eyes and that I loathed knowing that you disapproved of me. This was the source of my rage: I wanted you to understand that as the child of darkness I couldn’t walk into the light as you wanted me to, that I couldn’t give up what I saw this time as my only chance to become free and a person of my own.

How wrong I was I learned only too soon. My pride in getting the best grades in the NEWTs in my year lasted only for half and hour. Then my future father-in-law told me, he’d neither like blue-stockings nor wives who didn’t know their places. Taking my arm in a firm and aching grip, he pulled me out of Hogwarts great hall, hissing: “The fun is over, Narcissa – you will never try to overshadow Lucius again! From now on you’re a Malfoy and as such you will obey to your lord and master.”

Four weeks later I became Narcissa Malfoy – and my only luck was that my father-in-law found the situation with Voldemort just raising to power too insecure to risk his entire fortune – meaning especially the future of the noble house of Malfoy – already. So he sent Lucius and me to Paris where Lucius got a not to time consuming job at the ambassadory. My father-in-law told us, he expected us to make “useful contacts” for our future and so Lucius and I spent most of our time with attending social gatherings or inviting people to the posh apartment Achilles had bought for us in Paris’ wizard district.

I think I wasn’t bad in acting the beauty queen of the society. I’ve always liked elegant clothes, I’ve got some taste and with the Malfoy money it was easy to become the most fashionable woman in the wizard’s world. My father-in-law and my husband liked that very much. They showed me around as the most precious possession of the Malfoys and the more envy I got from other people, the more jewellery and even more expansive robes I got. I even owned three house elves who were only busy with my beauty – one was educated by Paris’ best hairdresser’s, one was a specialist in beauty potions and the other one had to work on my wardrobe.

There was only one problem even my powerful father-in-law hadn’t a solution for: Lucius’ potency problems. In his vanity he had already at school started to dabble around with lust potions of various kinds – and a few of them were rather dangerous. As we married he was already at a point where he couldn’t get an erection anymore without using a potion and because he still meant he would have to perform sex once a day, it became worse and worse. After a year he was practically totally impotent, even potions didn’t help anymore and – with his father waiting impatiently for the next heir and already blaming me – Lucius finally had to admit his problem.

The next six years we spent on the search for a cure. We saw probably every healer who was offering help for such problems, I even read muggle books about it, but in the end it was probably sheer luck and my knowledge of fertility charms which helped that I became finally pregnant.

Actually I would have thought that Lucius would be proud, but he wasn’t. Even before my belly began to swell my husband told me that he detested pregnant woman and that he wouldn’t want to be seen in the company of a “fat, ugly wife”. He wanted to send me back to England where I could have hidden myself in the mansion until the child was born and I was in form again. Yet my father-in-law didn’t want me in England. The situation with Voldemort – with whom Achilles was heavily involved now – had become more and more difficult and so I was sent to Rome where my friend Persephone lived, happily married to a pretty old, but really nice Italian transformation master who adored her and was only too glad to have me in houshouse for keeping Persy company.

Do you remember, Albus? In Rome we met again and it actually was quite funny – and no, I mean not only the situation itself, but the fact that we met in Rome. In England I never saw you though Malfoy Mansion isn’t far away from Hogwarts and though I was sometimes with Lucius and the in-laws by social gatherings with politicians. But only once we almost met – at the birthday party of Bagman. Only we were late – and you were already gone. But I rber ber that I always felt a slight flutter in my stomach when your name was mentioned. And whenever we were in England and going to an event where it would have been possible to see you, I dressed myself even with more care than normally.

If you would have asked me this time why I spent so much time in dressing and hair doing and finding the most suitable jewellery in my collection whenever I thought I could met you, I’d have probably saidt I t I wanted to present myself to you as beautiful as possible because I wanted to show you how wrong you’ve been in your disapproval of my marriage.

Today I know: I wanted to show myself as good as possible to you because I already wanted you. I only didn’t know before Rome. And no, my hero, it wasn’t your manly broad shoulders which got me. And it wasn’t your smile and those blue eyes; it was … let me tell you the entire story.

To go to the robe shop had been Persy’s idea. It was spring, it had become rather warm, I was in the sixth month of my pregnancy and really needed a few wide summer robes because my belly looked already as if I would expect at least twins and so I stood naked – Persy was just to get me another robe to try – in the changing cubicle of Rome’s poshest robe maker and suddenly the ward between mine and the next cubicle dropped and I found myself – no, not eye in eye, but belly to belly – with my former headmaster who was naked too.

I suppose the look on my face was priceless – and it probably even became better as you proved that being naked is nothing that could keep you back from showing manners and charm. Bowing slightly you smiled at me, looked me in the eyes and said: “How nice to meet you, Madame Malfoy.” But although you’re a gentleman – you’re a man too. Before you directed your gaze at my eyes, you had looked at my body and – oh, Albus! If you would have known what you did to me that day!

That look in your eyes – you weren’t repulsed by my pregnant body. Just on the contrary. I think you wouldn’t have looked with so much adoration and tenderness at me if we had met by one of these parties with me after hours of working at my appearance.

I’m obviously not a lady, but only a woman. I couldn’t resist looking at your body. Of course I did it through my eye lashes and only shortly and I really didn’t dare to look at your private parts – though I mudmitdmit I would have been interested. But I registered your broad shoulders and still well muscled chest and I liked that you had a few hairs there, but only so much so you look like a grown man, but not like an ape. I wanted to touch your smooth skin and I asked myself how you had managed to get the light tan and – please, don’t laugh at me – I found your round belly absolute irresistible. It reminded me of the boy you once were and – I was pregnant and probably my motherly feelings were already awakening and with them came that I started to love you not only as the strongly man you are, but as the boy you have once been also.

But back to Rome. You were quicker than the shop keeper; you were even quicker than Persy. As she came with a robe to cover me, you had already laid the one you just had tried around my shoulders. It smelled of you – a hint of lemon and sandalwood and lavender and this fragrance which is so entirely you was already very familiar to me because I had your handkerchief bewitched to keep this – your – smell.

For a few second I was happy. For the first time of my life I felt entirely contented and warm. I looked at your eyes and I forgot the world around us and if you would have asked me in that moment if I would go away with you – I would have taken your hand and would have gone with you on my naked feet, in a too long robe and without wasting a thought on my husband. But reality was to catch me quickly enough in the form of an amused female voice who said: “As nice as it is to look at you, Albus – I think Madame Malfoy would feel a bit more comfortable if you would cover yourself.” Titania Bellefort, the lady I’d last met as the wife of the French ambassador in London, gave you a robe.

In the contrast to me who found it a bit embarrassing to meet a married woman with what obviously was her lover – and my former headmaster and besides some one who I thought to be married too – Madame Bellefort seemed entirely at ease. She asked me how I’d feel and if I’d like being in Rome and when my baby would become born and why I hadn’t brought my “handsome husband” with me to Rome – and I blushed because her tone was so casual that I almost asked where her “charming husband” – and yes, Monsieur Bellefort was a charmer and I actually liked him – would be. Only Persephone saved me from it with showing a robe she’d fouor mor me and Madame Bellefort thought it was nice and I should try it, but you – now in a light blue silken robe – disagreed, saying: “Dark blue doesn’t suit Narcissa – it makes her pale.”

Persy wasn’t with you. “But it looks nice with her blue eyes …”

You shook your head. “No.” Looking deeply in my eyes, you said: “They’re violet, not blue …” Then your eyes searched the shop, you wrinkled your forehead and then you suddenly smiled and marched to a hanger with robes for men. With one grip you took a silken robe in lilac – but so bright it almost looked like silver and came with it to me. Holding it next to my face, you looked at Persephone and Titania Bellefort. “Hmm?” you asked.

“Hmm!” Persephone nodded approvingly. “Try it, Narcissa. I think that’s what we searched for.”

I went in the now again warded cubicle, tried the robe and walked out, looking at the big mirror. I liked what I saw – and so did you, smiling at me. “The Ice Princess – perfect.”

Madame Bellefort – perhaps a bit jealous? I mean which women likes her lover looking like that to another one? – found that now I really looked pale.

“That’s not pale, dear Titania. That’s ethereal,” you corrected her.

She had grace enough to laugh. “Oh, Albus!” But she obviously had enough. Still smiling, she said: “I’m afraid I’m never to look ethereal. I’m starving and I want to have pasta and one of those delicious Italian desserts which make for becoming fat, but …” she looked at me, at you and then with a pretty malicious smile back at me, “… most men like it rather soft and round.”


Three minutes later she had you out of the shop and I actually was glad Persephone was already as red as a tomato and couldn’t have suppressed her laughter any longer. She almost broke down with it and tears ran over her cheeks as she cried: “I bet my rather soft and round butt that even Dumbledore with his famous talent in charming ladies won’t manage to get this one in his bed tonight! Titania has just decided to let Oberon Dumbledore sleep on thea wha where he can dream from ethereal ice princesses. Oh my Narcissa! I’m afraid you’ve just got an enemy for lifetime!”

I was still so impressed at the scene and so confused by it, I didn’t laugh with her. But Persephone is used with me being rather quiet, so she didn’t ask. It was me who asked her – she always was better informed than me – about you and Madamelefolefort as we sat later in a street café. “Persy, did you know that … I mean, Dumbledore and Madame Bellefort … they’re having an affair, don’t you think?”

Persy started laughing again. “Of course, you sweet innocent lamb! Didn’t you know?”

“But she’s married!” I stammered, provoking even more laughter from my girlfriend.

“So what?” Persy laughed. “You know: Young wizards play quidditch while the adult wizard’s game – at least in England – is adultery. No one speaks about, but every one does it. Madame Bellefort plays with Dumbledore; Monsieur Bellfort’s having an affair with Isadora Snape – since years. And Isadora’s husband plays in the all male league while their son and heir …”

“Don’t tell me Severus Snape is a homosexual too!” I interrupted.

“No, of course not. He likes women – only he had the misfortune to fall in love with a muggleborn witch once. He wanted to marry her, but that ghastly family of his spite in his soup. Since the sulks in Hogwarts’ dungeons …”

I was not very interested in Severus Snape. During our school days we had some times worked together and I knew he is brilliant, but we’ve probably got too much in common in our lives and therefore we never wanted to come close to another dark creature. Yet I was interested in you and so I asked my obviously very well informed friend: “And Dumbledore? With whom is his wife sleeping?”

“Dumbledore? Married?” Persy laughed as if I’d have told her the joke of the century. “You know my husband and he were apprentices by the same transformation master? They know each other pretty well. Salvatore always says the only thing Dumbledore really fears is marriage and the charm he’s best at would be contraceptus. Hogwarts venerable headmaster was in young years a veritable womanizer and even today he’s still a ladies man. I mean he’s pretty discrete now – he keeps his love life and Hogwarts apart. It’s said that none of his affairs ever had a chance to visit him at school and that his female colleagues could probably dance the dance of the nine veils on his desk without him doing more than to cast a warming charm. But you know: His family is so old and almost as rich as the Malfoys and so he’s got everything a bachelor needs – a nice place in the country, a not too small house in London and a flat here in Rome. Salvatore and I were invited there last summer and dear me – my husband learned a few new warding charms! And we both don’t think Dumbledore made his terrace on the roof impenetrable for looking on it from outwards only because he likes to have his breakfast in his pyjamas there.”

I probably had eyes like saucers. “You mean, he does … on the terrace? In the middle of Rome’s wizard district?”

“My dear lamb – he’s got chairs there just inviting for sex! And I think it’s rather nice to do it there with only the sky over you and the noise from the streets just to hear and a breathtaking sight not only over the wizard’s district, but down to the river. And look at him – he’s still a pretty handsome man, isn’t he? Those eyes … and those hands! Huuh! And with his experience and temper – if I were in the adultery game too, I wouldn’t mind him placing his slippers under my bed …”

In the evening as we sat with Salvatore in the garden, the subject came up again. I wore the new robes we had bought and Salvatore paid me a compliment about it. So Persy told him about our encounter with you.

“He flirted so heavily with Narcissa I thought his lady would jinx him!” Persephone giggled.

Her husband didn’t find the story so amusing. Looking very serious, he said: “Be careful, Narcissa. Your father-in-law is not a man to cross and your husband – forgive me if I sound blunt – suddenly wouldn’t like rumours about Dumbledore and you.”

I was aware of that. I knew Lucius would kill me if I would cheat on him. But it didn’t keep me away from dreaming.

It was kind of ironic. Until that day in Rome I had almost believed that I was in my sexuality an “exception of the rules”. I mean: Who has ever heard of a frigid part Veela? Our kind is famous for a high developed drive. Yet I had never felt it. Even with Yven Melanchton it hadn’t been sex what I had craved, but tenderness and warmth. And with Lucius – oh goddess! I think he could make a full Veela consider entering a nunnery. With him I had come to almost hate sex – and not only because he never cared about my pleasure – probably he even thought that a decent woman shouldn’t feel any joy in sex. What made it really detesting was that he still demanded to be praised – and heavens, after one hour of sucking and licking and stroking to get his cock at least half erected, I found it rather difficult to act as if I’d find this tiny, wrinkled dangler the goddess biggest and most imposing gift to womanhood. I was always glad that I had learned the lubrication charms so well because the idea of sex with Lucius was already enough to my centre feeling like the Sahara at night: absolutely dry and pretty cold.

Sometimes I think Lucius liked it just like that. I being frigid made him not only sure I would never cheat on him. The additional bonus for him was the feeling he’d rule entirely about me. He knew for sure that I only slept with him because he ordered me to and this made him feel superior.

At this time I hated him for it. Today I rather sympathize with him. How much he must have felt threatened by my intelligence and power for all his attempts of keeping me small!

Yet during my summer in Rome I didn’t think much of Lucius. I thought of you. Sitting on the balcony at night I looked in the sky, searching for the North Star. Polaris, the reliable, the star who doesn’t change his position, the guide to millions of night travellers, became a symbol for you and my friend. In his light I imagined how it would be to lay in your arms, to kiss you – your high forehead with the deep wrinkles, your sensitive temples, the tip of your rather crooked nose, your soft cheeks, and the generous mouth. I imagined how it would fell to rummage in your hair – that silken silver mane had always fascinated me. And how your mouth would feel on my skin? The soft whiskers, the long beard … and the skin under it, soft and smooth. I thought of your long, dexterous fingers, the warmth of your palm, and the strength of your grip. And your voice – this always smoky voice, calm and soft and nevertheless the voice of somebody who doesn’t only know what he wants, but is use to get it.

But although all my dreams – I never thought of really coming close to you. It was not the fear of Lucius which kept me away from that, but the even bigger fear to lose you as the man of my dreams.

Please – don’t misunderstand me in that. I didn’t believe your real self probably wouldn’t stand up to what I dreamed you to be. I simply didn’t go so far as thinking about that. I was Narcissa Malfoy, I had promised loyalty and faithfulness to my husband, he was the father of my unborn child and at that time in my life this meant that I would never have thought of coming close to another man.


To be continued …