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by napo08 Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 13+ · Interactive · Fanfiction · #1981406

Harry joins feminine side.

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Chapter #17

Voldemort knows who Narcissa used to be

    by: Wandering Mind Author IconMail Icon
Voldemort sat at the head of the grand and ornate table at the center of the mansion’s dining hall. Servants scurried about, bringing him food and drink. Narcissa felt a roil of emotions as she took the seat next to the Dark Lord. Something within her stirred every time he would look at her, but she felt ashamed that she had ever fought against him as that buffoon, Potter. Why should she fight against the man trying to bring Wizards and Witches to their rightful dominance over Muggles? What had Muggles ever done for her?

“I must say, Narcissa, I was surprised to see you had been the one that led my Death Eaters to my resurrection,” said Voldemort as he took a sip of his wine. “It was an honour, my Lord,” Narcissa replied. “Oh, come now, Narcissa. You and I know you’ve said my name plenty of times before,” he said pointedly. Narcissa’s eyes went wide. “You know who I was, my Lord?”

“My dear, you have something within you that I have only felt in one other being.”

Narcissa’s hand went to the spot where the lightning scar used to be, though she knew it was no longer there. Voldemort smiled, “Yes, my dear, that scar carried more than a spell, it carried a part of me,” he explained. Narcissa felt fear rise within her. Would the Dark Lord punish her for what she’d done as the wretched Potter?

“Do not fear, my dear,” Voldemort continued, as if reading her mind, “this ancient magic that binds us allows me to see a great deal about you,” he stretched a hand towards Narcissa, “and I know you’re no longer who you used to be.”

Narcissa looked down at his hand over hers. She had had her nails painted a dark green, the colour of Slytherin, and she couldn’t help but think how well the colour contrasted with Voldemort’s skin. His touch was cool and it soothed her to feel his touch.


“I am eager to serve you,” Narcissa told him, her voice barely above a whisper. Voldemort smiled, the light of the massive fireplace reflecting off his eyes. “Let us …”
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