“All men have stars, but they are not the same things for different people. For some, who are travelers, the stars are guides. For others they are no more than little lights in the sky. For others, who are scholars, they are problems... But all these stars are silent. You-You alone will have stars as no one else has them.” The Little Prince
She stared at him, her sweet, sweet cousin in front of her. He eyed her, forced on a smile she'd known him to wear too often. So she sat down, without pulling her attention away from her darling boy. Not the slightest of mind even to the house elf with the tea.
He was too skinny and too exhausted, too distant for her liking. He had sat down as well, eyeing her but just barely. Perhaps gazing at something beyond her, just over her shoulders or some deep meaning she'd never cared to look into. "How do you find the weather?" She settled.
"Too cold for my preference, I'm afraid." His voice thin and low, a drop of water could break it. "The late summer these days is never as warm, is it?"
"No. Although we should hope for warmer days soon, they say." Lucius had been saying The Dark Lord has been planning ahead.
A comfortable silence spread, and was only broken by her cousin's voice, barely a whisper, choked as if his lungs had been filled with water. "When?" His eyes were mournful.
She wasn't sure what trigerred this, at the time she had guessed it had been some hero who fell, killed for the betterment of their world. Later after a bit of thinking, she wondered if he had feared for himself the same fate that so many were destined to at these times of war. Other times, usually when she was left alone to wander her thoughts for a long period of time, she inquired within herself whether it was that he'd worried for his brother, out there endangering himself for the wrong cause.
"I wouldn't know." She simply said. She couldn't bring herself to lie and say she does. She'd brought the china up to her lips, and glanced at his. His tea has not been touched. He noticed her glance. After a few quiet moments, in which Regulus regained his composure, she spoke; "How are you handling the chilly weather?"
"As well as I do with drinking tea." Another pause. He pulled his eyes away from her, staring down at his feet. "Although I'm not sure I will continue so for much longer."
Now it was her who breathed for air which for a moment seemed to cease from existence. Like everything, every particle and every atom, froze.
Six years apart, they were not close. She remembers him often at family gatherings, hiding behind his older brother just as she used to with Andromeda. Or standing strangely lonely with his parents at the train platform as Sirius left for Hogwarts, staring just at him. It was obvious that at those moments, just those two existed. Regulus and Sirius. Sirius and Regulus. A little boy capturing his brother in those moments of living. Her capturing her littlest cousin at those moments of sensitivity. So much reminding her of herself once upon a time.
Later at Hogwarts, when he was still so small and she considered herself so big, neither of them had tried to reach out. She was busy with her studies, and friends, and the failed wooing of Odivras Bulstrode. He... she guesses he was busy getting over James Potter's existence, though even seven years later she still suspects he hasn't.
They started seeing each other eye to eye after Sirius had ran away. She'd heard what happened and rushed to come, even though it was her first Yule as a Malfoy and she was supposed to spend it with her new family.
She knows what's it like to lose a sibling to blood traitors and mudbloods.
"Then come and drink tea here, Regulus dear, I'm sure Lucius won't mind."
"Perhaps, if weather allows it." He replied. "How are Lucius and yourself doing?"
"I am fine of course, and you know how busy Lucius is these days. Seldom is he home."
"How are you keeping company, then?" Regulus continued, and Narcissa wondered what stood behind this conversation.
Pausing for a moment before she answered, her eyes jumped to the milk for the tea, which she usually prefers to skip putting. Fortune-tellers and potion-brewers would be the truthful answer. So would be spending her hours with Lucius. Sometimes. When he is home, and not so horribly exhausted that he forgets the future of his house. The latter occurs on lesser occasions, as she has found.
"I visit my father often, the company which he keeps is rather friendly." She lied, "although they are not the sort I tend to keep as my own." It has drastically changed since mother has passed. She can hardly converse with those witches even though they are barely older than herself, surly no older than Bella.
Narcissa now eyed passed Regulus' shoulder, staring at the portrait put up, in all probability, before either of them was born.
A woman with silver jewellery and white-blond hair sitting with elegance. The portrait itself was of colours and swings that made it impossible in Narcissa's opinion, to had been made after the seventeenth century.
The potraited witch reminded her of her mother, with rich green robes and put-together blonde silks. She had the same calm but hard expression, expectingly distant. But then as the dead witch's eyes magically left the music sheet in her hands, and she gazed back at her, the similarities ended. She voiced a slightly annoyed piece of her mind before returning to what she's been doing for a couple hundred years at least. Back at staring at repeatingly silent notes.
Regulus turned around and gazed at the potrait. "Isn't she charming?" He said and then added. "Reminds me a bit of my mother, if being honest."
"Toujours Pur." Was the only thing Narcissa could say to Andromeda as they finally got to talk back in the dungeons. She couldn't cry in front of her, not her.
Andromeda glared at her, but waited for the younger sister to speak.
It was the beginning of her first year at Hogwarts, and Andromeda's fifth. She'd of course heard that the elder hangs out with blood-traitors and mudbloods from Bellatrix, but seeing it herself was a different hit.
She was betraying their family.
How could she?
They grew up in the same environment, she grew up together with Bella, they've recieved the same education. With the same tutors in the same rooms. How could she still go against the very core of the purity of society?
The second thing they hadve ever been taught is Toujours Pur.
Preceding was family loyalty.
"Toujours Pur." She repeated.
Blood-traitors aren't just those who betray respectble society, but also those who betray their own flesh and blood.
"Toujours Pur." Now Andy said too, if only disgusted by the saying.
"Aunt Walburga has always been very opinionated." She contributed.
"I suppose so." He became silent, all while his eyes flashed into a new wave of distant. "She and Sirus were never really close," he began, "but they have always resembled each other greatly." Narcissa nodded, never really knowing what to say when the topic of her disowned cousin comes into conversation.
She quietly finished her tea, purposely extending the odd but comfortable silence.
"After everything," Andromeda and Sirius. "I am hoping for the family to grow again." She finally voiced. "Perhaps you have found yourself a proper witch? I'm sure Aunt Walburga would be delighted."
Narcissa remembers how she had hated being asked these questions. But it seems he knows a 'proper witch' is not what extending the family is in her eyes.
But, well, you cannot talk openly of matters of the bed chamber.
So instead, he let out an appropriate laugh. "No. Not yet, I have not. When the time is right, I believe I shall know. I am only eighteen, cousin."
Her lips curved upwards, and suddenly a slight smirk appeared on her face as she commented; "you can tell my father that." The sound that imitated a laugh earlier, now became true and wonderful.
But then his left arm twitched in a way she knows from her husband and sister, and the amusement disappeared from his eyes. His face now serious, he stood up, "I must go now, Narcissa. I'm sorry for the short visit."
She followed him and stood up. "I'll see you later, then?" She hadn't forgotten what he'd said earlier.
She wanted to grab him, hug him, fight him, stop him, but she couldn't move. Her body still aching from the exhausted worry and continuous fear.
They were discussing work and marriage and studies and school and past and future. He was starting his O.W.L.s this year, and she was happy to give some advice.
"Did you ever talk to Andromeda again?" Regulus suddenly asked, his voice tiny. Removing the breakwater from the way their regular conversations usually seemed to wave. It felt wrong, to be asked about Andromeda. In a way, it almost became a taboo in The House of Black.
Never bring up Marius.
Never bring up Cedrella.
Never bring up Andromeda.
Narcissa was glad Regulus decided to ask about her sister, to be reminded of the time the woman was still Andromeda Black. To remember the days poisonous mudblooded claws have not yet touched a single one of her brown curls.
She'd decided to completely ignore the reason for the boy's unspoken of question. (His own, very Gryffindor, very rebellious, very muggle-adoring and Potter-befriending, very runaway, older brother.)
"No.." she hesitated, if only for a moment, and said again. "She tried reaching out in the summer after I left school, though. I've never wanted to reconnect, of course."
"You didn't?" He caught on in what he was saying. "I mean, you know. Sorry. It's just, she was your sister. It must have been hard." He offered. For once, he couldn't find for himself the right words. Perhaps not wanting to hint on something that shouldn't be hinted on.
"Andromeda shamed us all by her actions, replying would disrespect our parents, and dishonour myself." She said, although then honesty seemed to burst out against her will. "But I miss her, yes. I miss my Andromeda."
She layed awake for days debating with herself whether she should reply to the still coming letters. She didn't, at the end, because she couldn't recognize her sister's handwriting anymore. It stopped its necessary Black elegance and started looking rather scrubby. Almost like Andromeda disowned them, and not the other way around.
"But after she married him," Narcissa shall not let the witch have the even slightest chances of pleasure by having that pig's name coming out of her mouth. "She just isn't the same. Not my sister anymore."
Narcissa preferred drowning in her own despairing. If she didn't, and did, actually, look up at the teen in front of her. She would have seen his face growing with horrified fear.
Yet Narcissa preferred growing blind.
"Maybe. Probably not." As he said that, she finally convinced her muscles to move. She held him onto her, not caring for the bones that felt to sharpen his skin.
He wrapped his arms around her, and gave out a one, single, terrible, wail, before pulling away, forcing her to, too. His eyes shone now, and for a moment she was reminded of her once other cousin, as Sirius shines just as brightly. She gathered all her might to whisper. She couldn't bring herself to shout or cry or protest. "Promise me."
"He promised! He promised and he lied and he doesn't care!" He yelled, threw china and porcelain and silverware on the floor, ran his hand through his hair. Kreacher, his aunt and uncle's house elf, eyed him, then her, but stepped back.
Aunt Walburga and Uncle Orion left. Whether it was to officially disinherit the soon to be ex Black heir, or calm down just them two, did not matter. The smell of the burnt tapestry was still left in the air, and the words of complaint and gossip from the portraits still went through the hallways.
"We can talk, just give it a moment to breath." She knew telling him to calm down won't help, she remembers the hurt and fury of being worse-choiced by your sibling.
"He betrayed our family! He betrayed our family, Narcissa! Goes against our values, our beliefs? Fine! I could live with that! I understand that blood-traitors can influence! But he left! He left! And I'm still here and he doesn't care cause he's got Potter now!" He paused to breath, tired of looking for things to break.
Narcissa took the chance and hugged him, perhaps for the first time since before she started Hogwarts. She held him close and let his tears wet her clothes. "Come on, just let it out." She couldn't be sure he heard her, she almost didn't hear herself with his cries muffled in her shoulder.
At fifteen, he was still shorter than her. She's always been considered fairly tall for a woman. Standing at a metre and seventy-eight centimetres, and he at a metre and sixty-six, his head fit perfectly on her shoulder.
Narcissa is glad she can provide someone with a sense of safety.
Then she forced back her composure, only hints to imperfection were her slightly wrinkled dress and almost shining eyes.
"I cannot do that. I'm sorry. Goodbye, Narcissa." and he disappeared.
It just so happened, that a month or two so later, as her heart was still lost with concern, she looked down at the paper. She knew what to expect, at some point, but for some reason the title 'BLACK HEIR DEAD' caught her with suprise.
Another boy lost to neverland. She put a hand on her stomach, and her mind filled with a somewhat new determination.
"Lucius," this was one of the rare occasions where Lucius was neither at the ministry nor at The Dark Lord's right side.
And so they layed in bed together, his whole body protective of her blonde waves. He hummed a response, not in a particular mood to use words. "When we have a child, whenever that is," she whispered. They've been trying for years now, it ought to be soon. "May we give them a celestial name as tradition in my family?"
"Tradition is to name the firstborn son after the father's, Narcissa." He murmured, and moved her hair so to start playing with the bones poking underneath the skin of her exposed shoulder.
"Darling, the middle name shall be Lucius, I know. But please-"
"If we have a girl," he caught her off, "name her as you'd like." This was better than nothing, she supposed. But she couldn't let this go, for a particular reason that shouldn't really be important.
"Lucius, I know my own body. I'm afraid.." she breathed, and the next part she said in silent whispers. "I'm not sure I will be able to carry more than one child." Her world was breaking, and her eyes were filled with watery tears.
Lucius himself stayed still, not a whisper and neither a sigh. If only really thinking of a response. "If it comes to that, name the boy as you'd like." He finally replied, giving in. "Just perhaps not something as obvious as Regulus, I doubt my mother would love that." He added, as if reading her mind.
Oh, Regulus dear.