There once was a girl who yearned to fly.



Up into the air!

Oh, how high she'd go!

Her tiptoes would graze the tops of the fluffy clouds, each creating a ladder to the bright balls of light that decorated the night sky.

She often sat in front of the big bay window in her bedroom, her head in her hands as she stared at the stars. She'd ponder for hours why her name shared that of a flower. Were there no stars left?

She assured herself it wasn't possible. There were millions. The birth of her two male cousins confirmed her thoughts. Perhaps there were simply no female stars left. Nevertheless, she felt terribly out-of-place. Was she really part of a family with a father called Hawthorn, a mother called Iris and sisters called Violet and Jasmine? Her fair hair and eyes certainly made her stick out.

And so, each evening, she counted down the days until her eleventh birthday so she could finally learn how to fly. She'd finally solve the ongoing mystery in her mind.


"Up!" she pleaded, her voice cracking as her shaky hand hovered over her new broomstick. She begged her parents to buy her one for flying class, simply refusing to use whatever the school provided for the first years. They obliged, unable to deny the requests of their youngest daughter. They convinced the school to allow her to use it. After all, no one said no to the Blacks.

Her heart sank upon realizing that she was one of the few students who had yet to call their broomsticks. The nasty looks on her classmates' faces worsened the situation. They whispered among each other, undeniably about her.

"Up!" she commanded, putting more force behind her voice. The sun's rays shone off her broomstick, the lone straggler, which remained firmly planted on the ground. Her cheeks flushed, and tears formed in the corners of her eyes. All eyes focused on her.

Nothing happened.

"Take a deep breath, dear," the kind voice of her instructor whispered into her ear. "Steady your hand and try again."

She took a deep breath, shook out her slim shoulders, stilled her hand and placed it over the broomstick. Please work!

"Up!" The broomstick finally jumped into her hand. Thank, Merlin! A wide smile broke out across her face.

"Good job, Miss Black," the instructor praised before turning her attention to the waiting students. Narcissa nodded and tightened her grip on the broomstick's handle wishing to display control and command.

Unfortunately, Narcissa barely remained seated on her broomstick, which developed a mind of its own. She teetered and tottered, losing count of how many times she almost fell. Simple turns, executed easily by most of her classmates, were extremely difficult. Her stomach flip-flopped, and she almost vomited when she caught sight of the grass below her. She remained closer to the ground than she would have liked. To say that her first lesson was a disaster would have been a great understatement.

"Miss Black!" the commanding voice of her flying instructor called to her at the end of the lesson. Narcissa dropped her broomstick and turned around. Madam Hooch sprinted over, her black cloak flapping behind her in the gentle September breeze.

Rolanda Hooch approached the blonde girl whose shoulders sagged in defeat and disappointment. She stepped forward, cupped her chin and raised her head. Tears filled the azure irises. The girl stiffened and swallowed hard, determined to keep her composure. Narcissa stared, momentarily mesmerized, into Madam Hooch's piercing yellow eyes.

"Flying doesn't come easy for some. Sometimes it takes a while to get comfortable. I can give you extra lessons if you wish," Madam Hooch offered. She flashed the girl a warm smile, hoping she'd relax.

"I shall consider it." The girl turned up her button nose at her instructor. Her words, each one colder than the last, hung like icicles off a rooftop on a winter's day and pierced Madam Hooch's heart. The girl broke Madam Hooch's hold, grabbed her broomstick and sprinted toward the castle.

Six days later, a regal tawny owl rapped on Madam Hooch's window the evening before the first years' next flying lesson. Stifling a yawn with the back of her hand, she padded over to the window. The contents of the letter caused her face to flush. Halfway through, she crumpled it and chucked it into her fireplace. She grabbed her broomstick, pushed open her window and flew off into the night sky.


A regal tawny owl, oddly similar to the one that graced her windowsill many years ago, rapped on her window. Rolanda rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. She sighed loudly, cursing whoever chose to write to her so bloody early on a Saturday morning. She fumbled with the lock before allowing the owl inside her chambers.

The note landed face down. The sunlight's brutal rays bounced off the black, green and silver family crest, projecting shadows on her bedroom's walls. She cringed and curled her hands into fists. What could you possibly want? This time, the contents brought a smile upon her weathered face. She penned a reply and sent the owl back to its owner.

A week later, she stood outside the gates to Malfoy Manor. The walk up the paved driveway from the apparition point had been unnecessarily long. The house, enormous from afar, appeared to grow as she neared the entrance. It only emphasized the vast wealth of the prestigious, prejudiced Pure-blood family. Rolanda seriously considered flying over the wrought iron gate. The idea quickly disappeared once she recalled the wards, allegedly extremely effective in keeping out unwanted visitors. They sensed her presence, swinging open a few seconds after she reached the gates.

"Thank you so much for coming," Narcissa greeted. She stepped aside gracefully welcoming Rolanda into her massive abode. She leaned forward and placed her small hand on Rolanda's upper back. Her lips pressed lightly against each cheek. Rolanda gazed at the ground, attempting to hide the confused look that consumed her face. She took a few deep breaths before looking up at Narcissa. On the way up, her eyes caught sight of Narcissa's ample bosom encased in a tight ivory corset. Rolanda's mouth went dry as she stared at the milky flesh. Luckily, she found her manners, and she returned Narcissa's antiquated greeting.

"Come, we'll go to the pitch." Narcissa took off down a long hallway, the rhythmic clicking of her heeled boots echoing off the walls. "Draco's waiting for us. He's been practicing all day. He is so excited for his lessons."

Rolanda nodded and followed her, staying a few steps behind. She couldn't converse with Narcissa given her frazzled state. And, the view, she mused, watching the gentle sway of Narcissa's hips, was rather splendid.

Draco's lessons continued for the rest of the summer. Rolanda truly enjoyed teaching the boy. He genuinely enjoyed flying and was a natural. His skills, which rivaled those of older students, would earn him a spot on the Quidditch team the following year. We'll need it if we want to compete with Potter.

Yet, part of her desperately wished that another platinum-haired Malfoy had taken her offer for private lessons.


Rolanda stood in her office in front of a large window overlooking one of the courtyards. A light dusting of white snowflakes, the first of the season, covered the green grass. A happy sigh escaped Rolanda's lips, melting the condensation that formed on her window. She peered down at a group of students, too young to go with their peers to Hogsmeade, attempt to form and pelt each other with snowballs. She chuckled at their antics, amused by their youth and innocence.

A soft knock on her door startled her. She stepped away from the window, wiped her hand on her robes and ran a hand through her short, spiky hair. She must have taken too long for a slightly louder knock soon followed the first. She wasn't expecting any visitors, save for Minerva, who recently developed a habit of sharing her finest bottle of scotch with her. Minerva admitted that Rolanda was the only one she really trusted to discuss her fears about the impending war. Rolanda gladly welcomed the witch into her chambers, glad to listen to her troubles and offer her advice. It was rare that anyone came to her for anything other than Quidditch or flying matters.

"Mrs. Malfoy?" Rolanda's eyes widened and her mouth dropped. Narcissa's rosy cheeks only added to her stunning beauty. A few snowflakes, buried in her long locks, caught Rolanda's attention. She shoved her hands into her robe pockets, fighting the temptation to brush them away. She remembered her manners, looking into the witch's tantalizing azure eyes.

"Madam Hooch," Narcissa greeted politely. She took a deep breath and braced herself against the door, trying to still the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. "May I come in?" she asked, her eyes softening as she looked at Rolanda.

"Yes, of course!" Rolanda replied, allowing Narcissa to enter. She immediately chastised herself upon realizing her tone had been far more enthusiastic than she preferred. "Would you like some tea?" she asked, wandering over to her small kitchenette.

"That would be wonderful, thank you," Narcissa responded. Her fingers shook slightly as she unbuttoned her dark green wool traveling cloak. She draped it over the chair closest to the fireplace and sat down. Rolanda emerged a few minutes later carrying a tray of tea and biscuits. Narcissa's curiosity peaked watching Rolanda's arms tremble slightly as she set the tray in front of her.

The witches sipped on their tea and nibbled on their biscuits in silence, each woman far too nervous to voice their intentions and pose their questions.

"I'm not sure what to tell you if this is about Draco," Rolanda began. Narcissa looked up and cocked a perfectly coiffed eyebrow up at her. "Potter's a bloody good Seeker! I suppose I can give him more lessons, but he's pretty advanced as it is. Though, I suppose he…"

"This isn't about Draco!"

"Oh!" Rolanda replied, her face reddening.

Narcissa looked down at her lap and delicately dabbed her lips with her napkin. The blonde's neat habits made Rolanda feel like a Neanderthal. She quickly brushed away the crumbs that had fallen on her robe, hoping she hadn't noticed.

"I'd like you to teach me how to fly."

Rolanda, completely taken aback by Narcissa's question, spilled her tea all over her hand. A long, low hiss escaped her lips as the hot liquid burned her. Narcissa leapt out of her seat, crossed the room and cupped Rolanda's hand. She gently placed her wand on Rolanda's hand to heal the burn.

"Thank you," Rolanda breathed, her body trembling slightly as shivers ran down her spine. Her face flushed, and she stared at the carpet, unwilling to look at Narcissa.

"I'd like you to teach me how to fly," Narcissa repeated, taking a seat next to Rolanda. Her slim thigh brushed against Rolanda's muscular one sending yet another shiver down Rolanda's spine. This has to stop.

"How did you get in?"

"Does it matter?" The blonde threw her hands into the air, frowned and bit down on her bottom lip. Rolanda nodded and turned her attention back to her tea.

"Severus let me in," she confessed, playing with a loose thread on the couch.

"I see," Rolanda replied, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well… then… he most certainly can teach you how to fly," she concluded.

"He couldn't possibly!" Narcissa responded. I've already asked him for too much.

"Really?" Rolanda pressed on, narrowing her eyes at the blonde. "He seems awfully close to your son."

"He can't. He's far too busy teaching," Narcissa replied. And being a Death Eater.

"I see. Are you implying I'm not busy? I may only be an instructor here at Hogwarts, but it doesn't mean I don't have other obligations."

"Madam Hooch, I never implied that you aren't busy. It's just that your expertise in this area far exceeds Severus'. Severus hardly has the patience to teach his students, let alone me. He won't resist the urge to mock me and question me about why I didn't learn when I could," Narcissa insisted, desperation creeping into her voice.

"I see." Rolanda studied the blonde's usually impassive face, trying to work out her intentions. Her bubbling curiosity began to get the best of her. What brought this about? Why now?

"Please, you must help me!" Narcissa begged pulling the older woman's hands into her lap. "You're the only one who can!"

Madam Hooch glanced up from their intertwined hands and into Narcissa's eyes, filled with tears that were seconds away from falling down her face. Rolanda recalled the desperate and defeated girl who stood in front of her over thirty years ago. She longed to help that girl. Now, she could help the woman sitting beside her.

"Alright, I'll teach you." Narcissa, overjoyed and filled with immense hope, flung her arms around Rolanda's neck, holding her close.

"Thank you… thank you so much," she breathed into the shell of Rolanda's ear.

"You're welcome, dear," Rolanda responded, clumsily patting Narcissa's back. She grew light-headed inhaling Narcissa's intoxicating perfume, a mixture of vanilla and almond.

"I must go," Narcissa responded, breaking their embrace. Rolanda mourned the loss of the soft, warm witch in her arms. She smoothed out an invisible wrinkle on her dress. "We'll begin once Draco returns to school after the holidays. I will send an owl."

Rolanda nodded, standing up to allow Narcissa to exit. She took care not to let her gaze linger too long as Narcissa rose to her full height and carefully put on her cloak. A huge smile erupted across Rolanda's face after Narcissa left. She flopped on the couch, unable to hide her growing excitement. She could not wait for the lessons to begin.


Rolanda paced around her bedroom wringing her hands on the morning of Narcissa's first flying lesson. Thoughts of the majestic Malfoy matriarch plagued her dreams causing her to toss and turn most of the night. Those thoughts, some incredibly erotic, remained etched in the deep crevices of her mind. Her attraction to the woman puzzled her. Granted, beautiful blondes always held a soft spot in Rolanda's heart. There was something different about her. Rolanda had yet to pinpoint the driving factors of her growing attraction. Perhaps it was simply because she failed to teach her over thirty years ago. Rolanda shook her head hoping to banish her thoughts. Yes, that's it. I'll give her lessons, and that'll nip this in the bud! She mounted her broomstick, setting off into the sunrise for a good fly to clear her head.

Narcissa paced around the unused ballroom she transformed for her lessons. She pressed her palms into her stomach, attempting to squash her nerves. Perhaps this is an awful idea. She spent hours reviewing her plan, second-guessing each intricate detail. She eventually convinced herself that it was solid. Besides, it'd be incredibly rude to cancel on Madam Hooch.

"Thank you, Flora. I won't need anything else for now, but may need refreshments after," Narcissa said, dismissing her favorite house-elf.

Warmth spread across Rolanda's chest as she listened to the gentle tone Narcissa used to speak to her house-elf. The contrast between her public and private persona intrigued Rolanda. Unfortunately, her attraction to the witch only grew deeper witnessing this innocent interaction.

"Madam Hooch," Narcissa greeted bowing her head slightly at the older woman. Rolanda's chest fell for she hoped that Narcissa's soft lips would touch her cheeks once more. "Thank you again for coming."

"It's my pleasure, dear. Now please, let's do away with the formalities. Call me Rolanda." She flashed the witch a small smile.

"Very well. You may call me Narcissa or Cissa," she responded returning Rolanda's smile, which soon turned into a frown upon noticing Narcissa's outfit.

"This is entirely too much," she stated stepping closer. "You've decked out for a full-on Quidditch match. Really? Is this necessary?"

She stepped even closer, taking a deep breath as not to inhale Narcissa's addictive perfume. She cupped the younger women's chin, her fingers shaking as she released clasp to the helmet atop Narcissa's head. She was so focused on the soft skin under her calloused fingertips that she completely missed shiver that ran through Narcissa's lithe body.

"I suppose not," the Malfoy matriarch replied petulantly as she pulled her long locks into a ponytail. "You can never be too safe," she argued crossing her arms over her chest.

"Take it all off."

Narcissa's face flushed at the older woman's deep, husky authoritative tone. She slowly removed the shin, knee, arm and chest pads that she nicked from Draco's closet and transformed to fit her figure. She set the protective gear in a corner, staring longingly at the items hoping her instructor would change her mind.

"You'll be using this." Rolanda took Draco's old Nimbus 2001 broomstick out of her hands. She pointed to a broomstick beside her feet, which was identical to the ones used by the first years.

"Really?" Narcissa replied turning her nose up at the battered broomstick that at least thousands of students must have used. That thing isn't sanitary!

"Yes," Rolanda responded in a tone that clearly indicated that she would not change her decision. Narcissa huffed and stomped over to the broomstick. "You know what to do."

"Up!" Narcissa yelled, feeling like an eleven-year old all over again. This time, the broomstick jumped into her hand. The sudden impact caused her to step back a bit. She curled her hand around it.

"Wonderful!" Rolanda exclaimed, clapping her hands together. Narcissa mounted the broomstick and locked eyes with Rolanda. "Now, kick up and fly up to the ceiling and back down."

Narcissa closed her eyes and slowly began to soar up. She made it about halfway before she took a look at the padded ballroom floor. She shook a bit, but managed to stay upright. Down below, Rolanda carefully watched the woman, immediately sensing the cause of her apprehension. She removed her wand from her robe pocket and began vanishing the mats that Narcissa placed around the room.

"Stop! What are you doing?"

"You don't need these," Rolanda replied, vanishing the last mat.

"What if I fall?" Narcissa called down to her.

"Just say Arresto Momentum. It's as simple as that. Now, come on, dear, we don't have all day. Up you go."

Narcissa sighed deeply and began rising higher and higher. Damn these high vaulted ceilings. And of course, I picked the room with the highest ones. A few minutes later, Narcissa reached the highest point. She placed her hand on the ceiling trying to calm the rapid beating of her heart. She looked down at the ground and felt herself growing faint.


"Say the spell! Say the spell!"

Seconds later, the blonde witch fell into Rolanda's outstretched arms.

"Thank you," Narcissa breathed, her cheeks turning red. "I'm so sorry. This has been an utter disaster," she added as Rolanda helped her to her feet.

"Narcissa, don't apologize. You needn't. These things happen. Like I said, sometimes it takes a while for one to get used to flying. We must work on your fear of heights."

"Alright," Narcissa responded softly staring into Rolanda's striking yellow eyes. "See, you should have left the padding," she added giving Rolanda a soft smile.

"Perhaps. Anyway, I think you've had enough for today. Same time next week?"

With the help of Rolanda's patient instruction, Narcissa's flying skills greatly improved. She overcame her fear of heights, and she was able to fly to the highest ceilings in the manor without issue. Over time, Narcissa began to trust Rolanda. She agreed to try flying outside. Narcissa, terrified at first, took a few tries to get comfortable. Eventually, she got the hang of it, much to Rolanda's delight.

The women also developed a friendship outside the weekly flying lessons. Rolanda was almost always invited to stay over for tea. Sometimes, the invitations extended to dinner. Rolanda always accepted since she enjoyed Narcissa's company. She hadn't expected the lessons to last as long as they did. She figured it'd take a month to teach Narcissa the basics. However, intrigued by Narcissa's inquisitive nature, Rolanda found new things to teach her. She taught Narcissa how to fly in different conditions and on different types of broomsticks. She often wondered why the blonde wanted to learn everything about flying. Unfortunately, the woman refused to spill the reasons behind her intentions. Rolanda could not help but speculate on them. She hoped she'd done a good job keeping her feelings hidden. However, the constant invitations to stay for tea or dinner puzzled her. She's probably just lonely with her husband locked up in Azkaban and her son in school.

Rolanda watched as Narcissa flew gracefully through the air. It was an unseasonably warm April day so they took advantage of flying in the manor's majestic gardens. Rolanda tried to ignore the tightness in her chest. She knew this day would come, and they'd have to part.

"Rolanda?" Narcissa's soft melodic voice filled Rolanda's ears, and she turned to face her. Narcissa shifted and played with the tassels of her cloak. Nervous. That's totally not like her.


"I have a long flight to make next week. Come with me."

"I couldn't possibly," Rolanda responded staring at the lush rosebushes behind Narcissa's shoulder.

"I doubt I'll make it alone. I've never flown for very long."

"We can practice," Rolanda suggested immediately feeling bad for turning her down.

"No. I must leave next week." Narcissa sighed and gave Rolanda a small smile. "Anyway, thank you for all you've done. I really appreciate it."

Narcissa picked up her broomstick and walked past Rolanda back to the house, grazing her shoulder lightly as she passed. Rolanda sighed and put her head in her hands. She felt awful, but there was no way she could come with her.

Later that evening, Rolanda pondered over Narcissa's tempting offer. She convinced herself that no good would come from it. After all, Narcissa couldn't possibly be interested in her. She married an attractive man after all. Yet, Rolanda wondered if it was all a ruse.

"Rolanda, would you mind seeing if I have clothing suitable for a long flight?" Narcissa called from the en-suite bathroom. Rolanda stood at the edge of the room, afraid to come any closer.

"Come in. I don't bite!" Narcissa said, giggling softly. Damn her, Rolanda thought as she stepped closer. She took a seat at the edge of Narcissa's large, luxurious bed. She briefly wondered what Narcissa would look like tangled in the silk sheets.

"Everything's over there," Narcissa said pointing to her massive wardrobe. "I'm going to take a quick shower." Rolanda gulped and started to perspire at the thought of Narcissa covered in bubbles. She took a deep breath and dug her nails into her palms.

She walked to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer. Her eyes widened at the sight of Narcissa's lacy undergarments made of the finest silks. I wonder what this would look like on her, Rolanda thought pulling out a black lace teddy that left very little to the imagination. Rolanda failed to notice Narcissa behind her. She shut the drawer and moved to the armoire.

"Find anything?"

"You…" Rolanda began, trailing off upon noticing Narcissa. Her hair was still damp, and she was clad in a short ivory dressing gown. The low-cut gown offered Rolanda an eyeful of Narcissa's delectable sternum.

"Do you mind?" Narcissa said tugging on the tie to her gown. Rolanda shook her head and turned her back to Narcissa. Her face reddened as she heard the gown hit the floor. She desperately wanted to peek, but resisted.

"I'll get it," Narcissa yelled to her house-elves as she sprinted down the hallway to the front door. "Why, hullo… I knew you'd come."

"I couldn't resist," Rolanda replied. "Let's get this trip started."

Two hours into the flight, Narcissa could not help but smile at the feel of Rolanda's strong arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Her hot breath tickled the sensitive spots of Narcissa's neck and ears. She was positive that the goosebumps that formed on her arms were not due to the chill in the night air. Her smile widened as she felt Rolanda's hands brush against the undersides of her breasts.

Eventually, Narcissa grew tired and hungry. They stopped at a small pub in a remote countryside village for a quick bite to eat. Rolanda offered to take over, and Narcissa happily obliged. Rolanda tried her best to stay focused, but it was extremely difficult with Narcissa's arms wrapped around her waist. Just a few more hours left to go… you can do this.

An hour later, they approached a small cliff on a small isle. A small cottage consumed most of the isle giving them very little room for error on the landing. Rolanda wished she'd been flying, and she doubted Narcissa would make it. She could barely contain her shock when Narcissa executed the landing perfectly.

"How did you do that?" Rolanda asked as they dismounted the broomstick. Narcissa walked over to Rolanda and whispered into her ear. Rolanda's mouth dropped open. Her chest heaved. Her head spun. Narcissa smirked at Rolanda's lack of response.

Narcissa inched forward slowly and cupped Rolanda's chin, tilting it to face her. She languidly lowered her head causing Rolanda to shake in anticipation. She desperately wanted to lunge at the younger woman and press their lips together, but she forced herself to wait. Let her make the first move.

Narcissa's lips finally descended upon Rolanda's with a surprising softness that took her break away. Rolanda moaned at the contact. Her hand shot forward twisting Narcissa's golden locks around her fingertips. They remained attached at the lips for a few moments before Narcissa broke away, her face flushed and a smile etched on her moist lips.

"Was that your plan all along?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

The response, a soft whisper uttered into the night sky, warmed Rolanda's heart. Rolanda bent down and placed her lips around the outer shell of Narcissa's ear.

"Well, let's get inside, dear," she purred, delighted as the blonde melted into her arms. "There is so much more I want to teach you."