#messy deranged wonderful atlas

[flowerflamestars]

i would LOVE an author commentary for atlas 🖤

OOOO ask and you will receive!

She didn’t disappoint.

The whip crack of Narcissa’s apparition that he’d oh so careful taught the wards when he was all of sixteen, the heady scent of her perfume. Sillage or shadow? SIRIUS RAN AWAY/GOT THROWN OUT AND IMMEDIATELY MADE SURE HIS SAFE PLACE COULD ALSO BE HER SAFE PLACE

Both, he thought, the sheer brightness of her in firelight casting the whole room darker.

Silver, gold, Cissa- the blue of enchantment. She is still wearing the necklace! Taken off after childhood, found again and worn every day of the hateful war. The surprise was not in the end that she’d come- he hated her, he loved her, he’d never believed for a second she’d stay away but he’d been wrong before- but the sleeping bundle in her arms, downy blond curls visible.

She didn’t even look at him.

Three spells, in perfect silence. Couch cushions to a palatial crib, Draco tucked safe inside, a shimmering net encasing what she had created: protection, silence, home-brew magic not unlike what Sirius had done to the study to keep all comers but another Black away.

Narcissa is VERY VERY good at magic. She did well in school- but also, like Sirius, doesn't care very much for boundaries or rules and it shows. It's all a little more...mystic. Raw. She's not a textbook caster.

The picture of damnable grace, Narcissa Malfoy sank to the floor beside Sirius, scrupulously outside the range of blood splatter his magic-strong body was still seeking to spurt.

She looked at him, purposefully chosen beautiful robes pulled rakish and now ruined. The hair Sirius would pretend he wasn’t vain as all hell about, falling over his face and painting even more improper his bared collar, shifting tattoos running across Sirius’s ribs. SIRIUS GOT DRESSED FOR HIS WEIRD DATE, OKAY? he is TOTALLY not subconsciously tapping the fact that this middle of the night, secrets and magic thing was like...their entire relationship. Fawn, stag, wolf, owl- Lilly, James, Remus, Narcissa-

She looked at the blade, sunk deep to bone, and raised one perfect brow. “Is that one of Cedrella’s?”

At one point I answered an ask about Sirius's style? This. Yes. Here is his open collar and really pretty hair and antique magic murder hand-me-down, tattoos racing beneath midnight blue silk- A grimace, a smile. The incoming blackness had absolutely nothing on meeting her silvery gaze.

Cissa tapped the bloodslick hilt, perfect manicure ringing faintly on spell forged steel. “One of her poisoned daggers.” It wasn’t a question. She held Sirius’s fluttering eyes with hers for one more endless second, and scoffed. “Idiot. Reckless, dangerous, foolish, idiot.” Cissa is enjoying this. On the second repetition, she ripped out the knife. She healed the wound, nails biting into his thigh, punishing grip sealing shut his rended skin. GOOD AT MAGIC...and hmm... hello plot confusion, touching him. It's almost like Narcissa did something about that contract with all her clever power. And then, without giving Sirius a second to blink as his body threw off the shock, as pain melted away, Narcissa slapped him across the face. BABE Hard, but with the open hand that she wore not a single ring upon. the fact that Sirius notes this! the clear fact this is a choice because she is PRECISE just like he is in these not immediately knowable ways. Ears ringing, Sirius grinned. “Hello, Narcissa.” y'all this is the best Sirius has felt since he was seventeen. Temper- he saw it, he knew it, he felt it- flashed like lightening across her face, and gone. “Don’t call me that.” What do we think Lucius calls her? hmm? It's sure as fuck not Cissa. “Lady Malfoy.” She stood up, dawn-colored silk fluttering to reveal long bare legs, peignoir a perfect match. They are both SO into aesthetics. Risen from her bed, Sirius could understand, robe thrown on hasty- to check on her son? To grab her son, to take with her, because she didn’t trust to leave him behind? Not quite...but not wrong. Draco's nursery is magically probably one the safest places in Britain. When Narcissa isn't present. Draco in her arms, haste enough to not even tie it shut, for worry? Yes, actually, Sirius. She wasn't sleeping and then you rang up mortal peril time He was eye level with her knee and Sirius- Sirius had to shut his eyes. That was an ancient tumblr post I am now realizing: I love even your knees? Correct. Which she evidently watched him do, by the acidic hiss that emerged from what he knew to be a perfect mouth, “Sirius.” WHAT HE KNEW TO BE- jesus. One breath. Not enough. He wanted a cigarette. A drink. Another fucking stab wound for her to grab. “Cissa.”

Like I said, Sirius is ENJOYING himself. But also, god Sirius, you think you need a drink??

He's just kneeling there. Bloody. Grinning. In the firelight. Her animagus form is tattooed over his heart alongside his chosen family- he got her here via warning enchantment of death! He just tossed back his stupid, stupid, pretty dark hair and, visibly effected, shut his eyes at the sight of her bare legs. Narcissa is like, drinking cognac and watching him swallow.

It is not a coincidence that three sentences later Narcissa is taking a drag off a shitty muggle cigarette, the same brand they used to steal from her sister.

It is ALSO not a coincidence that the moment Sirius actually, finally, calls her Cissa, they move onto actual business.