The source of someone’s happiness was personal. So personal, in fact, that sometimes even oneself was unaware of the true source. For some, happiness came in the form of palpable things like friends, family, their favorite food, a toy saved from their childhood. For others it was something less solid but not less significant. Narcissa Black’s happiness lied in a mixture of both. It was deeply rooted in the back of her memories as a warm light keeping her from being completely swallowed by the darkness of the world she lived in.

Her eyes closed and a corner of her lips rose almost immediately. In her mind she could see them, every one of them, their eyes distinct in every way. Some were long, some were brown, some had obnoxiously long lashes, and others emanated such warmth that it turned her insides into a fury of mixed emotions. It didn’t matter how different they were because behind those eyes, Narcissa could recognize one thing: love. The love that her kind dared not speak of for fear of suffering from crushed dreams.

Her wand tickled her palm and Narcissa smiled. Perhaps she’d be able to conjure a Patronus this time.