Regulus.
Narcissa was twenty-two years old when her cousin Regulus got the Dark Mark.
The Wizarding War was coming in full force by the time she received an owl informing her of the ordeal, Lucius out already in one of his missions as a Death Eater. Her hands had trembled as soon as she had taken in Walburga’s handwriting, inviting her to Grimmauld Place like it was Regulus’s birthday rather than his doom. She had considered calling Andromeda — maybe she would be able to talk some sense into the boy, so he would run away from that house like Sirius had done a year ago. She had her number, she had had it for all these years, locked away in a little jewellery box, never touched. But Narcissa knew better.
Fastening her cloak, Narcissa was quick to apparate at the Borough of Islington, quietly moving through the dark streets. Her heels clicked softly against the pebbles that made up the street, the hood of her cloak covering her face from prying eyes. Not like Muggles knew where to look, though.
She didn’t need to draw her wand out of the pocket inside her cloak to cast the spell that revealed 12 Grimmauld Place to her, a simple mouthing of the words was enough before she was already going up the stone stairs and slipping inside, once Kreacher was done scrunching his nose up at her.
“Is she here?” Narcissa asked the house-elf, barely glancing back at him as he closed the door.
“My Mistress is upstairs, arranging herself for the arrival of the Dark Lord.” Kreacher informed with narrowed eyes.
She didn’t say anything back to him, and instead quickly made her way to the living room, where she could hear chatter. Narcissa wasn’t surprised at seeing Bellatrix already there, fawning over the idea of another family member becoming a Death Eater.
Regulus, instead, was terribly quiet, sitting on the couch with his hands rigidly resting on his knees, his gaze lost somewhere in the carpet beneath his feet. The boy had always been pale, like every member of the noble House of Black, but he almost looked sickly now, which made Narcissa’s heart shake terribly. Maybe she should’ve told Andromeda, should have asked for help. The boy was scared to death.
“He’s just a boy.” Narcissa murmured, drawing Bellatrix’s attention off Regulus.
Her brown, shiny eyes scanned her sister in a quick sweep, before she hooked her arm around Narcissa’s, pulling her close. “He’s sixteen already — I wish I had taken the Dark Mark at that age.”
“He clearly doesn’t want to.”
While Bellatrix’s eyes did snap to hers, Narcissa only focused on Regulus’ — they bore into her like a threat, or maybe a plea. It was obvious that becoming a Death Eater hadn’t been his wish, but there was a warning in his silver eyes not to say it too loudly. Could she be wrong?
“Nonsense.” Bellatrix finally said, unhooking her arm from hers to bat her hand dismissively. “He’s thrilled. Aren’t you, Reggie?”
Regulus simply nodded, his eyes still locked with Narcissa’s, while she was trying to make sense of it all.
She had understood supporting Lucius — she was his wife, after all, it was her support that was expected of her. But a kid, her cousin Regulus bearing that hideous mark? No, she couldn’t bear it. Not with how tense Regulus looked.
Had he really asked for it? Was he influenced by those friends of his, Crouch and Rosier? The questions burned in Narcissa’s mouth, begging to be answered by the boy before him, who had no light behind his eyes. She had never thought she wished Regulus were more like his older brother, but as Narcissa slowly accepted she was losing another member of his family to Him, the thought did cross her mind.
Narcissa barely noticed her body moving forward, how she leaned down over Regulus while her hand came to his black hair, fixing it gently. “Everything alright?”
Her question surprised both her and Regulus, and it could have surprised Bellatrix too, if she weren’t receiving Barty Crouch Jr. and Evan Rosier, who had just come to the ordeal to watch his friends join them.
Regulus glanced at the boys as they came into the living room, before returning his gaze to her older cousin — he had never liked her decision to dye her hair with Malfoy’s shade, but he kept himself from frowning.
“Yes.” He simply answered, and Narcissa withdrew her hand.
Walburga came down from the first floor just as the Dark Lord appeared in the fireplace with an outburst of green smoke. The sight alone of him made Narcissa straighten her back, moving aside to place herself by Bellatrix’s side, her hand tight into a fist.
If his appearance had always seemed eerie for her in the first couple of months by his side, lately it had gotten so much worse — the almost snake-like quality to his sickly skin was evident now, his dull dark brown eyes now with a red fire in them that commanded fear. Not respect, just utter horror. He even moved like a nightmare, as he approached Regulus with that wicked attempt at a smirk.
Luckily for her, he must have been in a hurry, because he hardly even acknowledged Walburga by nodding her way, simply keeping his attention on Regulus — somewhere back when Narcissa had been staring at Lord Voldemort, he must have gotten up from the couch, now standing directly in front of his soon to be master.
“Bellatrix.” Lord Voldemort called, extending a bony hand out.
Bellatrix immediately moved to his side, her hands pulling the sleeve of her black dress up to show the Dark Mark in her left forearm. It looked as malicious as Narcissa remembered it, from a couple nights ago with Lucius. She always tried to avoid looking at it, but now it was inevitable.
Just like Lucius had done years ago, Regulus pressed his index finger against Lestrange’s Dark Mark. Perhaps it was because he was barely a man, or because he hadn’t expected the sting — but his lips let out a loud cry of pain at the burning, before he forced his lips to press together, tightly. Narcissa was the one to notice how Regulus’ eyes had glistened, and continued to glisten even when the mark was already in his own forearm, burning and pulsing.
In less than a year, Regulus would be dead.