This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Do you remember how we first met?

I do. We were introduced, ironically enough, by your husband. It was a function at the Manor for those of a like mind - as the youth I now teach would call it - a Death Eater party. And that's exactly what it was. A meeting of the followers of Voldemort, disguised under the civility of the well-off meeting to discuss current events. We never truly fit in with them - you, the rich daughter bored with a role of as a doting wife and a well-mannered hostess, me, the poor, angry Slytherin wit a thirst for power. I only had one thing to offer Voldemort, and that was my brain. I offered up the one thing I had to call my own, but that was all in the past. Voldemort is beyond having a use for my brain and my unerring skill with potions. Going back to the party, I remember how the candlelight reflected off your blonde hair, almost casting a halo around your head. You were in hand-tailored robes in the purest white, making you look like a moving, breathing marble statue. I knew what was expected of me when Lucius introduced us. I was simply to say 'A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Malfoy' and lightly kiss your hand, such as many others had done before me. But as soon as our skin touched, I knew - I still know - that you felt the same shock I did.

Some may think me arrogant for saying that, but it is only the truth.

I managed to say the civil, polite words that were expected of me and as I brought your knuckles up to my lips, our eyes met - and we both saw through the mask of civility. We were still the rich daughter bored with a role and the poor, angry Slytherin, but we were aware. It was us against them. Lucius knew of your boredom, my dear, so he was fairly happy when a distraction in my form appeared. He took me aside after the function to give me the daunting task of keeping you occupied. He also threatened me with dire consequences should I ever try to take what was his. He said all of this in the most civilized tone, as if he were discussing the weather with me. I might have been frightened, if not for my chance meeting with you. Then, I had simply found his threatening laughable, but I replied with my now-familiar sarcasm. I believe that I said something about not wanting seconds when someone else had it first.

I proved myself to be a liar.

I wanted you for my own. I attended functions with you, and slowly over the months, we became friends, conspirators, and dare I say it - lovers of the mind. During our friendship, during our plotting to keep ourselves sane, our awareness intact, we reached a level that no one, not even your husband could reach us on. All it would take was a glance, a second-long eye contact, and we were there. Together. We plotted and schemed to protect our sanity and to protect, to retain us - the awareness we protected like dragons guarding a nest - we did this amongst all the insanity. It was our haven, our refuge.

Then you became pregnant.

As I was the only one you wouldn't snarl at constantly, Lucius asked - practically ordered - me to move into the Manor until your son was born. We strolled around the grounds, not needing to talk, simply understanding, our idyll only interrupted by Voldemort, and Lucius, when he graced his home with his presence. The rest of the time, we were in our own world - a world where the mask of civility was clearly seen through. I stood in loco parentis for Draco when he was born, at your insistence, over Lucius' objections. I believe that was one of the few times your awareness started to peek through the storm clouds of your eyes. Lucius blamed it on new-mother moods. I breathed a sigh of relief after it was over. I shuddered to think what would happen if Lucius ever discovered what had happened between us.

By the time Draco was born, our intellectual love affair was trying to manifest itself in our physical bodies. We knew that it was dangerous to let the desire build between us, but we could not stop it, any more than we could have stopped our love.

Lucius, fortunately, was gone even more frequently as the war built up. We shared many breakfasts, lunches, and dinners holding in-depth conversations about ourselves. We walked Draco around the grounds learning even more about each other, still plotting to retain the awareness. It always brought me no end of amusement that you are the one who recognized my disillusionment with Voldemort and encouraged me to begin spying for Dumbeldore. We both respected him, not for his principles, but for the fact that he was our Headmaster, and for the power we knew he commanded. Over time, I did learn to respect him for more than those two things.

Halloween, 1981.

I know that we both remember the date. The day Voldemort was defeated. The day Harry Potter became The Boy Who Lived. The day our world was thrown into chaos. The night you came to me. We didn't know what was going to happen in the next few days and sought solace from the only other one who knew. Lucius was busy buying off the right people and never noticed your two-day long absence. We made the most of those two days, giving into our bodies' demands, giving into our minds, giving to each other. I held you through those first two nights, rubbing my hands over your naked back, soothing your fears, loving you. We both knew that you had to go back before Lucius did notice your absence. On the third day, I told you to remember.

"Remember," I said, kissing you hard on the mouth while you clutched a wailing Draco to your breast. "Remember until the next time."

No prophet am I, but I knew that there would be a next time. And there was. But this time was different. You remembered, just as I had asked you to. You remembered and it meant the difference between life and death. You saved my life by remembering.

Now we come to today.

Today, we will no longer be trapped by our confining, civilized roles - you, the rich, bored daughter, me, the poor, angry Slytherin - we will become something else, something that we have always been.

Aware.

He signed his name in a flowing script, one that he had learned when he still believed in the lie of civility, then carefully folded his letter and handed it to a house elf. The elf disappeared quickly and quietly. When it returned with a folded sheet of parchment, his lips twitched as he unfolded the note.

Severus,

If you think that today will be full of awareness, then you had best prepare yourself for tonight.

All my love,
Narcissa

He re-folded the note and slipped it into a pocket inside his dress robes just as a knock sounded on the door. Draco's blonde head peeked inside.

"Professor? Time."

Now he did smile. It was time to make Narcissa truly his.