[A/N: I don't know, one of those things that hits you and won't go away until you write them down. And Narcissa… I don't know. I got an idea for a Britney Spears story the same night for crying out loud! (and no, I haven't been smoking anything) Narcissa isn't too happy about being painted up as mentally unstable but she'll have to live with it *nods* *gets death glares from the Malfoy family* *sweat drop*]

Narcissa

The face in the mirror is not mine.

It's older. Prettier.

The eyes… the eyes are so much colder than mine are, it doesn't matter that they are the same color and shape. Same pale hair, maybe a bit shorter.

I wonder if she's happy with her life. Happy with what she has, with what she has become. She looks so sad, so dead in side. But she's beautiful, like Mother. Maybe I'll be that pretty when I grow up?

Carefully I reach out to touch her. She who is so pretty, but seem so dead inside. Maybe I can wake her up again. Maybe I can make her smile.

The surface of the glass is so cold and she seems so distant, still.

"Narcissa?"

The woman in the mirror reacts to the strange male voice and quickly pulls back her hand. Odd. We got the same name. Only she seems to earn it more than me.

I wonder who he is, this man who she seem to know. Curious I turn around in the soft chair, feet not reaching the floor, as they rarely do when you are just six years old.

The man has a pale, narrow face, cold silver eyes and pale hair. Even paler than mine, it's almost white. Not white like old people's hair, but in an endearing sort of way. It makes him look angel like, innocent, if you don't pay any attention to his eyes. He's like the Narcissa in the mirror, dead inside. He seems concerned though. As if there is something wrong.

I turn back to the pretty woman in the mirror. It looks as if she knows him, but I don't think she likes him very much.

I jump slightly as two big hands rest themselves on my shoulders. He stands like that in silence for a while. Narcissa in the mirror doesn't seem to want to face him, she keeps looking down and carefully glancing up hesitatingly.

He kisses me on the head. It seems more forced than anything else. Just like Father.

Father and I have a very strained relationship. Is this man who is so forcedly caring and careful the same?

The Narcissa in the mirror smiles at him, equally fake and emotionless. He seems satisfied with that somehow. I wonder why he settles for less, why she settles for so little.

Maybe she liked him at one time? Maybe he even cared about her once?

He sighs deeply.

"Come, Narcissa," he takes my left hand with his right and escorts me towards the big wooden door.

Glancing back at the mirror with silver snakes circling around it, creating a beautiful frame. The man is leading her away too, and she seems to follow him hesitatingly, looking back at me. He looks at her, he seems almost scared. It doesn't suit him.

He leads me down the hallway. There's a boy standing there. Pale, skinny and concerned silver grey eyes.

"Go to bed, Draco," the man holding my hand instructs.

Draco. What a pretty name. When I have children, maybe I'll name one Draco.

"Everything will be alright."

I look up at the pale man. What is wrong? I didn't know something was wrong. I quickly look at the boy, this Draco.

"But Father…"

The man is this boy's father? That makes sense, they are so alike. But the man looks too young to have a teenage boy. I frown slightly, maybe he was a young father. I wonder who the mother is. She must be very happy.

"Now."

He has a very dominant tone, like my father, and this Draco obeys, quietly stepping back into his room. It's a very dark room from what I can see before he closes the door. Maybe it's because it's late, it must be past my bedtime.

I gasp inwardly, fearing what father would say if he found me up now.

That must be why this man came, I squeeze his hand tighter and walk a little faster. Maybe he's one of the servants? No, he acts to noble for that.

"Come on, Narcissa," he says calmly and helps me into bed.

Silly. As if I couldn't get into bed on my own.

He smiles again, this time it seems as if he's trying really hard not to yell at me. What did I do wrong?

It seems to pass though because he walks to the other side of the bed and starts to get undressed. I guess he's going to keep me company, maybe he knows that I'm afraid of the dark?

"Sir?" I raise my voice carefully.

"Yes?" he seems to be on the verge of tears, but I can't understand why.

"Will you read me a bed time story?"

"Sure," he says as he lay down in the bed next to me.

He sounds very forced calm but I move closer and close my eyes.

"Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess," he starts but his voice seems to die away for every word.

I don't say a thing. The kind man will continue soon, I'm sure he will.

"It's me, Lucius," it sounds as if he's crying but I don't look.

Lucius.

I frown. I remember a man with that name, somewhere. Lucius, Lucius, Lucius. Lucius. I remember. I remember a Lucius, don't I? Pale, tall, almost white hair, powerful and dead silver eyes. He was kind to me, wasn't he? Somewhere deep inside I think I recall this man making me smile.

Deep down somewhere I remember a Lucius, but it's all cloudy now.