A drabble for s i l v e r a u r o r a's Daily Prompt on the Slytherin Corner forum.

One-word prompts: divinity, blindside.

Quote: "I think how hope may be the thing that pulls you forward, keeps you going, but that it's dangerous, too, that it's painful and risky, that it's making a dare to the world and when has the world ever let us win a dare?" (from The Knife of Never Letting Go, by Patrick Ness.)

Character/pairing: Narcissa Malfoy

Wild-card prompt: one character in your story dwelling on the prospect of dying at some point or another, whether in a sad or happy manner is up to you.

Your whole life tastes bitter now, every glimpse of beauty and past happiness painfully cutting through your very soul, every hope tarnished before even being fully conceived, every thought unspoken and forbidden.

You think that hope might be the thing that pulls you forward, because at the end of the day, let's face it, if there was nothing more than what you're living now, you'd have crumbled to the ground months ago already. But on the other hand – on the other hand, you hope nothing. You have no hope, just expectations – that make you stand tall and carry on, a divinity of blonde hair and stoicism, all pure blood and cold face and beauty. If you allowed yourself to breathe, to think a word out of line, it would be the end of you, after all. Wouldn't it?

So hope is overrated in such a world, you think, and shrug your shoulders gracefully. There is no such thing as hope – you are simply waiting, and coping. You hope your son will come home unharmed every night, some might say – but no, actually you don't, you just don't think about it anymore. You have a reason to go on – two reasons in fact, your husband and your son – and so you're going on, end of story. If – when – the blow comes that tears what's left of you apart (blonde hair stained with scarlet, grey eyes unseeing), what use will there have been in hoping that it wouldn't happen?

(and what's more, to hope, you'd need to imagine the worst, somehow – wouldn't you? And you don't want to risk your pretty façade, oh no you don't – now is not the time to break down, to claw at your own skin with your nails and scream like a trapped animal, your husband and son need you)

You've never liked to question the world you live in – you're clever enough to try and twist it your way instead, subtly. Mindless questioning leads to cracking, to fleeing, to failure and open displays of emotion. All things you despise, all things you couldn't afford anyway.

So you carry on, and you hold your family together, keeping your fate, what you really have become, in the blindside.

Facing the truth is just too dangerous.

(you know what? Denial might just be the best compromise between being brave and surviving)

(and in a war, you've got to make compromises. You might be a queen, but you're no fucking warrior)