Title: Does it Matter?


Author: Jinni (druscilla@cox.net)


Rated: Pg13


Pairing: Giles/Narcissa


Disclaimer: All things BtVS belong to Joss Whedon, et al. All things HP belong to JK Rowling, et al.


Distribution: The normal places.


Summary: For Tara’s birthday this past Sunday. Happy belated birthday!


~*~*~


He couldn’t believe. . . .


After all these years.


And yet, there she was.


She looked just like he remembered her, even if there were a few more lines in her face, and her expression was more reserved. The same white-blonde hair. And those eyes. Eyes such a silvery color that they looked to have been poured from the very metal itself; and when they caught the light just right they had hints of blue, impossible to see at other times. She was still very beautiful.


“Narcissa?”


She looked up, noticing him standing in the office doorway for the first time, and he was pleased to note that the reserve on her face fled instantly under a shower of happiness.


“Rupert? Is that really you?”


“Quite,” he murmured with a tilt of his head. “You’re the Ministry’s representative to the Council?”


He honestly had never seen her as someone that wanted to take part in the workings of politics. Those brief years they’d shared as friends had never given him any indication that she held those interests. Yet, here she was, apparently the ‘Malfoy’ he was meeting with that afternoon.


“So shocked, Rupert?” she snorted softly. “I assure you – I am quite up to the task.”


“I don’t doubt that for a moment. You just never seemed –“ He stopped, snapping his mouth shut. That couldn’t sound any way but rude, now could it? But she’d already guessed what he was going to say, and the mirth had far from left her eyes.


“Never seemed like the type to dabble in Ministry’s affairs? You can blame my late husband for that one. He introduced me to the world of political intrigue and I fear I can’t get enough. And your group does seem to have its share of intrigue, on top of all that.”


By ‘his group’, Giles assumed she meant the new Watchers Council. Small, but growing every day, the Council currently oversaw the locating and training of the newly activated Slayers in the world. From there they coordinated to send Slayers to Hellmouths around the world and/or any hotspots that crop up from time to time. Buffy was doing most of the training, with Faith as her assistant. Willow and Xander lectured on various topics from time to time, supplemental classes to the physical training offered, in addition to organizing scheduling for the Slayers, and providing valuable research. Even Andrew had managed to worm his way into a position with the Council.


“We do seem to run into trouble more often than not,” he agreed. “Shall we talk inside?”


He followed behind her into his office, gesturing for her to sit. She was still the same old Narcissa Black, he told himself, despite the years that had been added to her since the last time they saw each other.


“Did the Ministry give you any idea as to what you’re expected to accomplish?” Giles began slowly, watching her face as she pondered the question.


“Just to watch, observe – assist if needed – and report back on everything I see,” she shrugged, shoulders rising and falling within what he was sure were very expensive designer robes. Their crystalline blue color worked well with her pale features. Much more so than he would have pictured in his own mind, had someone described it to him.


“And will you be doing that? Reporting back on everything you see, that is?”


Another shrug, a small sigh. “Rupert, do you honestly believe I’m going to tell those self-important bureaucrats anything more than what they absolutely –must- know?” She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Your secrets are safe with me. Just as they always were.”


Her knowing look, the slight twist of her lips; that was all it took to remind him all too clearly that Narcissa knew things about him that no one else was privy to. She’d been his confidant up to the point he was expelled from Hogwarts, during his fifth year. That was what one got for dabbling in the Dark Arts, of course. The expulsion was supposed to teach him a lesson about right and wrong – all it did, in retrospect, was throw him in with the likes of Ethan Rayne, who made very sure that his knowledge of the Dark Arts was complete.


And he hadn’t seen Narcissa since his expulsion, for all that they’d been good friends before.


“Those. . .ah. .. .secrets,” he felt the heat rising to his face and cursed himself silently for getting such a reaction off of those memories. Oh how he’d confided in her on those lonely nights! How he’d told her his dreams and aspirations, admitted to everything he hoped for himself. And not just power and wealth, the two items that had been foremost in his mind. No, he’d admitted everything. What he wanted in a family. In a wife.


“’A good witch’,” she closed her eyes, reciting from memory. “’Someone that’s not afraid to get her hands dirty. Preferably not a pureblood, they don’t know much of anything when it comes to usefulness. . .’”


He’d meant those words to strike a chord within her, all those years before. At the tender age of fifteen he’d been doing his best to flirt with her in the only way he knew how – subtle insults. He’d wanted her to rise to the bait, to proclaim that pureblooded witches were just as worthy of his time as the muggleborns. But she hadn’t. She hadn’t seemed to notice or care about the slight that he’d purposefully aimed at her.


“I knew that night that we didn’t stand a chance,” she murmured softly, eyes opening again.


Or. . . had she?


“Narcissa –“


“Don’t you apologize, Rupert. I’m happy with the way my life turned out, for all that I adored the very ground you walked on,” she smiled sadly. “So don’t say you’re sorry, I won’t hear of it.”


He nodded, forcing a tight smile to his own lips. How he would have done anything back then, to hear that from her. It would have put him on a different path, that was for sure.


And maybe that wouldn’t have been for the best, in the long run. He would likely never have joined the Watchers, and certainly would never have taken a field assignment watching over Buffy Summers if he had. All the good that he’d done in these last years would never have happened. Who was to say that the world would even still exist, given the coaching he’d done through times of pending apocalypse?


“I was foolish back then,” he found himself murmuring softly, despite his silent decision that his life had worked out just as it should have. “I wouldn’t have seen a good thing even if it was standing right in front of me.”


Narcissa raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. “And now? Have you learned much in these past years?”


Giles shrugged. “I’d like to think I have, yes.”


Her smile widened, flashing those perfect white teeth that were normally hidden behind rosy pink lips.


“Perfect. I’m assuming that we have much more to discuss regarding my assumption of this position. Shall we meet later tonight – perhaps for dinner?”


He nodded dumbly, standing when she stood to show her to the door after deciding on the time and place of their rendezvous. He felt. . . lightheaded, as if he’d just been taken for a wild ride that he wasn’t even aware he’d been on.


He felt. . . like maybe she hadn’t been as surprised as she’d acted to see him?


But. . .no. That was preposterous.


Giles smiled, shrugging off the confusion addling his mind. Did the how and why of her offer really matter, after all?


Not to him.


And definitely not tonight.


~*~End Fic~*~