Title: Fraying Wires and Fairytales

Character: Narcissa Malfoy

Summary: "Narcissa Malfoy, a doll with loose fittings and button eyes; a robot programmed badly." Narcissa, Lily, and the hearts of machines. / Freeverse.

Notes: Huh. Angst. Pain. Sadness. Femmeslash. Metaphors. What more could you want? I sincerely hope you enjoy!


Narcissa Malfoy,

a doll with loose fittings and button eyes;

a robot programmed badly.

You're held together with fraying wires

that just can't function.

Turned down by the one you thought you loved,

once upon a time,

but girls like you don't end up in fairytales,

because girls like you,

like girls like her,

and confusion, darling, doesn't suit you...

She is elusive; pretty;

fiery and intelligent and everything you'll never be.

You've made it awkward, sweetheart,

for lack of a better word,

because you see her every day and

yet,

you still can't look her in the eye.

She gives up trying.

You're not good enough.

Narcissa Black,

a machine with a heart that's forgetting to beat;

a robot programmed badly.

You're mad and you're sad, but,

you know what?

You're getting on fine.

Maybe.

"Glad we're still mates,"

the other girl smiles,

and Narcissa, you cry inside, 'cause hey:

porcelain masks aren't made to crack.

"I don't like you like that."

Lily Evans, the girl with no emotion,

a brash voice and no hesitation in bringing down James Potter,

will never love you, dear,

and you're not even sure she likes you.

Guess what, Cissy?

Fate's got it in for you

(if you even believed in that sort of thing)

and your destiny isn't with her.

She turns you down with a frown, and a sigh,

and you don't even think she cares.

You blink, and she doesn't talk to you again.

You didn't expect her to, really.

Who'd want Narcissa;

a robot

with no guarantee?

"I still want to be friends."

Narcissa Black;

you're the girl who went against all codes,

and looked at another

who wasn't your Lucius,

and smiled prettily, and readily, your ears burning red,

and said,

"Maybe?"

But you belong with Lucius, babe,

and she belongs with Potter,

because she's a princess in her very own fairytale,

and no fraying wires are going to

convince her otherwise.

You're a damsel in distress,

but save yourself this time, princess.

No one is coming.

Your tower's too high,

and no girls would want to climb it

even if they could.

Narcissa Malfoy;

the girl who had everything,

and lost it all in one sentence, dear,

one word -

maybe?

You're a girl in war,

darling,

and she's on the other side of the fence,

waving at you

from over No Man's Land.

None of you chose this, Cissy,

and none of you care enough to change it.

You wish you could

reach into your hard drive,

fiddle with some wires,

create some sparks,

and maybe even manufacture a happy ending

out of - well, nothing,

but fraying wires and fairytales.

This is, dear;

there ain't no happy endings.

Machines never outlive their creators,

and do you know why?

Because robots aren't supposed to die,

and humans just love

being contradictory.