narcissa
the second night of the summer of 1975
Narcissa Black
to the flower with no thorns
may it await a gruesome fate, prettily
There was something wrong, she could feel it. It was a sense that drew her in, and yet she kept away. Unlike her eldest sister, Narcissa did not dance with the danger in the room. And unlike Andromeda, she did not welcome it with a warm hug. No. Narcissa stayed clear, despite the urge to flirt with the danger, to embrace that silly madness that warped her thoughts.
Perhaps it was sheer determination, or maybe it was spite, but Narcissa would rather die a horrific death than let the world see her fall to something as plebeian as madness. Besides, Narcissa was much more Rosier than Black. Everyone said it, some even thought the worst of her for it. Or better yet, the worst of her mother. And yet, here she was, taking her seat in Astron House.
The Astron House was grand, more castle than house, really. It sat at the highest peak of Mage Mountain, a magical mountain range known for its palpable ley lines that ooze celestial magic. Like the night, Astron House is drowned out by shadows, hidden from those who do not have the blood of the Black family. Narcissa’s own mother can not see the house, and she can not travel into it alone. Most think the home is protected by a Familial Fidelius charm, but truthfully, not even the Black family know why their ancestral home is hidden.
This is how Narcissa knew herself a Black. She could paint the outwards look of Astron House by memory if she needed.
Entering Astron House, Narcissa was met with five elves, one for each of them. At birth each girl was given a family elf, and when married, her mother and father also received their own familial elves. Miney, Narcissa’s elf, took her bags, and within a second she had aparated away, Narcissa assumed she went to her usual room in the West Wing, the children’s wing, where her room was the smallest (still rather grand) of the cousins, and shared a bathroom with the west wing library.
Everything was a hierarchy, and Narcissa learned rather quickly that she was at the bottom of her family’s food chain. It was evident in the seating arrangement. Great Uncle Arcturus, or as she lovingly calls him, Lord Black, sits at the head of the table. His son, Orion, to the right of him, and despite being a walking disappointment, Sirius is sat to the left of Lord Black. At the opposite end of the table, sans the head position, is where Narcissa and her mother are. Her only solace is that she is besides Andromeda.
She’s wearing a dark green dress, the color of the forest just before the trees bleed and die. Over her dress is her softer green robes. She wasn’t quite keen on the outfit choice, but her Mother had insisted, surely hoping she’d catch the eye of her cousin.
The meal hadn’t begun yet, from her understanding this was more of a meeting than a dinner. She is whispering little gossips to Andromeda, trying to break her perfect pureblood mask.
“I heard Sirius was kicked out of the Potters for trying to shag Euphemia Potter,”
“I also heard our little prince is involved in a triad with that Crouch boy and our other cousin– no, not Sirius, the Rosier boy,”
“Apparently there is a mudblood boy in hufflepuff who–”
Her words were halted by a swift stomp on her foot, and she couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. It was soft and dainty, unhearable, unless you were her mother who had a sense for when her children were being reckless. She found her mother’s blue eyes squinted at them in warning, but Cissa saw the slight uphill turn of her lips. Before she could feign innocence to her mother, there was a loud cough demanding the attention of everyone in the room.
Twelve heads simultaneously turned to face the man at the head of the table.
“I have brought each of you here because we are the remaining members of House Black,” he began, his tone serious and made no room for argument. Not that there was one to have, he was correct. “And if thing’s do not change, by the end of the millennium there will be none who carry the name Black left,”
He took a pause. Narcissa was sure it was for dramatic effect, and it did its job. She looked wide eyed at her mother, who had shifted her gaze down. She knew something, Cissa was sure of it.
“As many of you know, our dearest Druella is a born Rosier,” Narcissa sucked in a breath. “Her niece has had a premonition,” Pandora. Narcissa closed her eyes and released her breath. “Due to his allegiance to his sister, Esdras Rosier has given us the premonition,” Lord Black made eye contact with each individual at the table, before landing on her mother. “Druella, perhaps it best you explain the inner workings of the premonition,”
Druella nodded at the Lord, “Divination is a hard subject to learn, it is even harder to teach. For you to fully understand, it is imperative that you know the difference between a premonition and a prophecy,” her tongue wet her lips, clearly uncomfortable with the eyes of the last twelve remaining Blacks on her.
“A prophecy is spoken as law. It is a divine truth that has many pathways, but all with the same outcome– what is prophesied will be. A premonition is a warning. It is not written, it is not law and it may be changed. It should be changed. Premonitions are only given when the stars are sure the path is wrong,” she emphasized the words, making clear eye contact with Bellatrix. Narcissa looked between the two, as if trying to decipher a complex riddle.
Narcissa noted her mother’s fingers tangling with one another, a nervous habit. “A prophecy is granted to those awake and clear of mind, it is words spoken. A premonition happens in the dreamscape, many believe Morpheus the sayer of premonitions. Premonitions may be viewed in the mind, it is as if it is happening– Pandora… She witnessed what will happen. She has allowed Lord Black and myself to see into her mind,” She looked to Arcturus Black and let out a heavy sigh.
“We witnessed the death of each and every one of us,” the words were colder than the rest.
Narcissa felt her body stiffen. She didn’t dare move, her attention still raptly on her mother, as if terrified the worst to come any moment now. The silence was only interrupted by the insane laughter of Uncle Alphard.
He was clutching at his stomach, doubled over. He shook his head before sitting up, eyes locking onto Narcissa’s mother, while everyone else was looking at him. “Who goes first, Dru?” he wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes, catching his breath between each word.
Druella pursed her lips, her eyes narrowed. “Lord Black,” she says, then her eyes slide over to Orion, looking him up and down, as if to say, both of them. She leaned back in her chair, “I could run down the list in chronological order, or we could focus on fixing it,” she challenged her brother-in-law.
Alphard smirked at Druella, raising an eyebrow. He accepted her challenge readily, and Narcissa felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Because, while Narcissa was calm and cool and collected, she did not let anyone mess with those who are hers. Not even family.
“We need to know what is to happen, to change it, do we not?” Now Alphard sat forward, arms crossed on the table where he leaned against them. It felt reminiscent of a predator stalking a prey.
“Arcturus. Orion. Lucretia. Cygnus. Myself. Regulus. Walburga. Sirius. Alphard. Bellatrix. Narcissa. Andromeda,” She listed out with cool indifference but the words sent a fire down Narcissa’s back. “None of us die naturally, despite what the prophet would print,” she scoffs, then she’s looking at Alphard with thinly veiled disdain, “Some of us die by the hand of another Black, but we all meet our fate due to one man,” her eyes snap to Bellatrix.
Bellatrix, for her part, looked sickly and pale and refused to comment on the clear connotation of Druella’s words. Instead, Ignatius scoffed and said, “And what of myself? I didn’t hear my name listed?”
Druella wanted to scream, “I suppose it is not enough motivation that your wife is to die before the child of hers is born,” The words were not screamed out and cursed, but instead spoken with venom Salazar himself would be wary of. “Or the fact that your nephews are to die gruesome deaths,” she hissed.
“Gruesome?” Regulus spoke softly, and more to himself than anything. That didn’t stop Orion’s eyes from narrowing on the poor boy, but Regulus’ attention wasn’t on his father. He hadn’t the sense to cower from the man’s gaze.
“How can we even trust this Rosier girl?” Walburga asked, eyes narrowed at Druella. But Before Druella can continue, there is a loud bang at the head of the table. Each Black family member bore a different reaction to the abrupt noise– but none surprised the lord more than the impassive facade of Narcissa. Arcturus stood, hands pressed against the hard wood table. His eyes are narrowed at the entire table. Narcissa fights the urge to shrink away. She instead looks directly at the man.
“Enough.” he does not yell, there is no need for it. Not when the room has already fallen silent. “I did not bring you here to bicker and argue. I’ve gathered everyone here to bless the second change we have been given. To prevent this from coming to fruition,” he takes a deep breath. Narcissa can only imagine what it is that kills her.
She never thought much of death, well, of her own death. For some reason, it never occurred to her that she was in fact, not immortal. She supposes deep down she knew death to be imminent, and yet hearing their names listed out like that, she shook her head, looking to Andromeda. Her face was ghastly white, and her hands gripped the sides of her chairs. While being the first to die was rather embarrassing, Narcissa doesn’t think she’d be able to handle being the last. She doesn’t think she can handle being second to last either.
She never thought much of death, and now that she has, she hopes it to be swift and out of order.
“What can we do?” Lucretia spoke, her voice wasn’t strong and filled with confidence as Narcissa had heard before. Instead, she sounded fearful. Her hand rested softly on her stomach and Narcissa was suddenly filled with a sense of dread.
“We play the game,” It wasn’t Arcturus who spoke, but instead Orion. He had this steel look in his eye. A determination Narcissa hadn’t seen in the Heir. If truth be told, Narcissa always thought Orion to be rather lazy. He was set to let his familial wealth sustain him and his wife, and she’d wager as Lord, he’d just keep things tidy off of his Father’s foundation. Narcissa was the observer, she saw them all for who they were and who they pretended to be. Orion would often pretend, with false vibrato and words eerily similar to his fathers. This was new. And with one glance at Sirius, she could tell that he was also trying to figure out what this meant, his Father’s new lease on life.
“Precisely,” Lord Black had said, a nod towards his children. “This self proclaimed Dark Lord will bring the ruin of House Black,” Bellatrix gasped. Andromeda huffed. Narcissa rolled her eyes. “I will be damned to allow that to happen. We are The House of Black, and we bow to no wizard,” Narcissa had always had admiration for Lord Black, the way he carried himself. The way he loved his late wife. The silent authority in which he ruled his house. If she were a man, she'd aspire to be just like him. But just as, it is not her place to do so.
“We will use those we trust implicitly, gathering support within the shadows, unbeknownst to either faction. False neutrality will be our savior” He was still standing, and now he began to walk. “To the public, there will be just the light and dark,” he nodded along to his own words, imbedding the deeper meaning into them like a stitch woven.
“Sirius will be our starting point. The boy is a Gryffindor, so let’s use it” Narcissa sat straighter, her mind working just as Arcturus’ was. Arcturus now stood at the opposite end of the table, near Narcissa and her mother.
“Narcissa,” He looked down to the blonde Black, his eyes searching hers. “I know it is you who is puppet master of Slytherin,” Andromeda coughed into her hand, which sounded suspiciously of a laugh. “Who do you believe is mendable to our cause, who would follow us without mind to question?” Narcissa was stunned for a moment, because how could he possibly know that? Unless she wasn’t being as discreet as she thought, which frankly, was simply not possible. She knew the Lord Black was testing her, and she was determined to pass.
“From the top of my head, I’d say the Greengrasses and Parkinsons are looking for a way out of this war. Perhaps Snape,” She saw Sirius stiffen. “He is a halfblood looking for a purpose, and if the rumors are to be believed he is a potions prodigy with a mean streak,” She thought another second, “Malfoy with the right motivation, but perhaps not his father.” She looked up at Lord Black, “I’d say the Lestrange brother’s as well, but I am certain the elder is already Marked, as he is now out of school and Rabastan has made some rather uncreative threats to those born of a lesser blood status,” Lord Black nodded, and gave her a small smirk. “Anyone else?” Narcissa shifted in her seat under the scrutiny.
This was a big moment for her, she could boost herself higher in the family.
“I didn’t think it relevant to mention the Rosiers, but them as well. On top of Familial connection, they are quite close with Regulus. And if I were to branch out of Slytherin, I’d say several Halfblood families would join us. From my observations, most half bloods and mud– muggleborns crave the connection to mother magic we purebloods have naturally. If we offer them that connection, rather than dismissing their wants such as Albus does, we could entice them into our cause,”
“Very well,” Lord Black stated, “I will take that information and I will morph it into a plan,” his hand squeezed her shoulder as she passed by her heading back to his seat.
“For now, let us eat,” he sat, and instantly the elves were there with their custom meals just to their liking.