Summer's Spectacle
The invitation had been sent out weeks ago, pressed into thick parchment, the Black family crest gleaming in silver wax. A summons, as much as an expectation. This was no ordinary ball. This was a symbol of union, a night to honor the upcoming betrothal of Narcissa Black and Lucius Malfoy: a merging of two of the most powerful bloodlines in the wizarding world.
But beneath the gilded elegance, there was something more. A reminder.
A display of power.
The Black family was not just pureblood nobility. Their influence is woven into the very structure of the wizarding world. And so, this night was not merely for celebration.
It was a gathering of power.
Those invited were not only from the Sacred Twenty-Eight but also those who held political and financial sway over wizarding Britain.
The Malfoys, the Rosiers, the Notts, the Lestranges—all expected.
But also the Potters, the Pettigrews, and other influential families who held key positions within the Ministry.
Because this was not just about a marriage. It was about alliances.
The Blacks did not extend invitations lightly.
-
Dozens of house elves flitted through the massive space, levitating enchanted lanterns, adjusting the arrangement of floating floral centerpieces, and smoothing out the velvet-draped tables where silver-trimmed goblets and crystal wine decanters gleamed.
At the far end of the room, Hyacinth and Narcissa stood side by side, overseeing the final details.
“The color gradient on the charmed tablecloths needs adjusting,” Narcissa murmured, tapping her fingers lightly against her forearm. “It should transition from ivory to gold, not ivory to pale yellow.”
Hyacinth nodded, already making a note. “And the floral arrangements, Mother will expect symmetry. The eastern table settings are uneven.”
A house-elf appeared with a pop, bowing low, “Mistress Narcissa, Mistress Hyacinth, the musicians have arrived. Would you like to approve the final composition list?”
Narcissa exchanged a glance with Hyacinth.
Hyacinth sighed. “We always have to approve the final composition list.”
“Of course we do,” Narcissa muttered. “Because if we don’t, someone will try to slip in something ghastly from the eighteenth century.”
-
Bellatrix stood in the foyer, arms crossed, watching with unmasked irritation as one of the house elves trembled under her gaze, “What do you mean Lord Mulciber sent word that he might attend?” she demanded. “He is either coming, or he is not.”
The elf squeaked, wringing its tiny hands. “He said he does not wish to confirm and will arrive if it is convenient, Mistress Bellatrix.”
Bellatrix let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “If it is convenient.”
She turned on her heel, marching toward Andromeda, who was flipping through the finalized guest list, “Mulciber thinks he can decide last minute whether or not he will attend our event,” Bellatrix sneered.
Andromeda didn’t look up. “Then let him.”
Bellatrix blinked. “Excuse me?”
Andromeda finally glanced at her, unimpressed. “It doesn’t matter if he shows up. This ball is about Narcissa and Lucius. If he wants to pretend he’s above attending, then he can sulk at home while the rest of pureblood society whispers about why he wasn’t here.”
Bellatrix scoffed. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”
Andromeda smirked, marking something down on the parchment, a distant look in her eyes. “Just a little.”
-
The entire household was a flurry of movement. House elves rushed from room to room, robes swished through the corridors, and the air buzzed with tension. But here, in a tucked-away alcove near the east wing, Hyacinth and Andromeda sat hidden behind thick velvet curtains, watching the chaos unfold below.
“We should be helping,” Hyacinth murmured, resting her head against the stone wall. Andromeda smirked, reclining back in the window seat, her emerald chima pooling around her. “You’re welcome to return to the madness. I, however, choose peace.”
Hyacinth exhaled, stretching out her legs. “It’s exhausting. The planning, the measuring, the expectations…”
Andromeda melancholicly glanced at her. “And yet, you do it perfectly.”
Hyacinth scoffed, tilting her head toward her sister. “So do you.”
A pause. Andromeda smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes,“I’m just better at pretending I enjoy it.”
Hyacinth frowned but didn’t push. Instead, she reached out, adjusting a strand of Andromeda’s hair that had come loose.
“You’ll be the most radiant of us tonight,” Hyacinth murmured.
Andromeda chuckled, raising a brow. “And here I thought you would be the one to outshine us all.”
Hyacinth smiled softly. “Maybe we both will.”
And for a moment, they weren’t Black daughters preparing for war disguised as a ball.
They were just sisters.
-
The final touch to Narcissa’s ensemble was a delicate golden tiara, passed down through generations of Black women, its intricate design laced with runic enchantments for protection and grace. It was Bellatrix who fastened it into place, her fingers deft and practiced.
“There,” she said, stepping back to examine her work. Narcissa tilted her head slightly, catching her reflection. “It’s heavier than I remember.”
Bellatrix smirked. “Good. You should feel the weight of it.”
Narcissa rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. From the other vanity, Hyacinth smirked. “Careful, Bella. You almost sounded sentimental.”
Bellatrix scoffed, turning away. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Soleil Kim moved through the corridors of Noctis Veil with silent precision, her presence commanding without a single word. She entered the dressing chamber watching her daughters finish their final preparations. Soleil’s gaze flickered over the ivory and gold hanbok, the delicate embroidery of daffodils, the cascading waves of Narcissa’s perfectly arranged hair. She nodded once. “Flawless.”
Narcissa exhaled, the tension in her shoulders easing just slightly. Bellatrix gives Narcissa an encouraging smile.
Hyacinth, who was adjusting the golden clasps on her own sleeves, raised an eyebrow. “Is that approval I hear?”
Soleil’s lips twitched in something that almost resembled a smile. “It is an expectation being met.”
Hyacinth sighed. “Of course it is.”
-
Regulus adjusted his crisp, tailored robes, his silver cufflinks catching the light as he fastened them. They don’t mention how Sirius should have been in the room with them, not lounging in the reception hall with James Potter. Hyacinth, already prepared, stood beside him, watching his reflection in the mirror. “Nervous?”
Regulus shot her a flat look. “I was raised for this.”
Hyacinth smirked. “And yet, you checked your collar three times.”
Regulus scowled. “You are insufferable.”
She laughed softly, smoothing out the embroidered vines along her sleeves. “That’s what sisters are for.”
He exhaled sharply, but there was the slightest twitch of a smile.
And for a brief moment, before they stepped into the spotlight they were just Hyacinth and Regulus.
Before duty took over once again.
-
The grand doors of Noctis Veil’s ballroom slowly swished open, and the air shifted.
The moment she, Andromeda, Narcissa, and Bellatrix stepped through the grand entrance of the ballroom, the air shifted. It was as if someone had cast a silencing charm. For the first time in years, pureblood society was speechless.
Hyacinth kept her chin high, shoulders poised.
A ripple of whispers spread like wildfire, hushed but urgent, as the entire room turned to stare.
“The Black sisters…”
“Have you seen what they’re wearing?”
“Exquisite. Soleil Kim must have had it custom-made in Korea.”
Hyacinth kept her chin high, shoulders poised. She had been trained for this since childhood. But tonight, they were more than just daughters of the House of Black.
They were a statement. A reminder. A reckoning.
Their wizarding hanbok stood out against the stiff, heavily adorned British robes of the other noble families. Each piece had been carefully designed, a deliberate display of power and heritage, woven with enchanted silk and centuries of bloodline magic. Narcissa’s hanbok was soft ivory and shimmering gold, delicate and pristine, her jeogori embroidered with intricate daffodils. She looked like she had stepped straight out of a celestial painting.
Andromeda’s was deep emerald and silver, the enchanted silk subtly shifting like ocean waves. A tribute to the vastness of the unknown, a quiet defiance against a future that had yet to be written. Bellatrix’s was darker, edged in obsidian, with silver-threaded sigils woven into the chima. It wasn’t just a gown, it was a warning. She moved like a storm..
Hyacinth's were royal violet and deep midnight blue, the sleeves patterned with enchanted golden hyacinths that seemed to bloom and fade with every movement. Vines of golden thread curled at the edges of her skirt, weaving and unraveling like it was alive.
It was a vision unlike anything seen in British high society. And it was intentional.
Soleil Kim had ensured it, “You are not just daughters of the House of Black,” Soleil had told them as she fastened the final touches onto Hyacinth’s sleeves. “You are daughters of the Kim lineage as well. The world will not forget it.”
Lady Greengrass clutched her pearls, whispering furiously to Lady Rosier. Abraxas Malfoy lifted a glass of wine, nodding in silent approval. Even the younger pureblood heirs: Avery, Mulciber, Rosier stared.
Across the room, Cygnus Black stood with Abraxas Malfoy, his sharp gaze sweeping over his daughters with the ease of a man who knew he had already won,“Your daughters have set the room ablaze, Cygnus,” Abraxas murmured, swirling his drink.
Cygnus allowed himself a smirk. “Let them burn.”
“The Blacks have always been prestigious,” one woman murmured to another, eyes fixed on the four of them. “But now? Now they are untouchable.”
Hyacinth let the words drift past her ears.
They had always been admired.
-
The music shifted the soft swell of strings signaling the next waltz. Lucius turned toward Narcissa, extending his hand in quiet expectation. She hesitated only a moment before placing her delicate fingers in his, the warmth of his touch steady and assured.
Without a word, he led her onto the dance floor. The ballroom faded into the background. The murmurs, the admiring whispers, the speculative glances, all of it became nothing more than a distant hum as Lucius guided her effortlessly into the first step.
Their movements were seamless, practiced yet natural, a dance they had been performing for years. But tonight, something was different.
Lucius watched her, truly watched her, as if seeing her for the first time.
“You’re staring,” Narcissa murmured, her voice low enough that only he could hear. Lucius smirked slightly, his grip tightening just enough to remind her that he had her. “Am I?”
“You are.”
She lifted her chin, as composed as ever, but there was something else in her eyes tonight; curiosity, amusement… maybe even intrigue.
Lucius exhaled a slow breath. “I suppose I can’t help it.”
Narcissa arched a perfectly shaped brow. “And why is that?”
He could have given her a carefully measured response. Something charming, something expected. But the words that left his mouth were neither, “Because you are extraordinary.”
For the first time in their courtship, Narcissa faltered. It was slight, barely noticeable, a fraction of hesitation in her next step. But Lucius felt it. He felt the way her fingers tensed just slightly in his grasp before she steadied herself again. A flicker of surprise crossed her face before she masked it with ease. “You’ve never said that before.”
Lucius tilted his head slightly, considering her. “I never realized it before.”
That was the truth of it. He had always known Narcissa Black was beautiful. He had always known she was poised and intelligent and the perfect match in every way. But until now, he had never understood just how much of herself she had poured into being all of those things.
She was not merely a product of her upbringing. She was not just the perfect daughter, the ideal bride, the elegant society woman.
She was Narcissa. And she was unlike anyone else.
She held his gaze, searching for something in his expression. “You sound as though you admire me, Lucius.”
He let a small smile curve his lips. “I do.”
A flicker of desire bloomed over her face, and she couldn’t look away. The dance continued, their movements slow and deliberate, but the air between them had shifted. Gone was the quiet expectation, the formality of an arranged match. In its place, something real began to take shape. Narcissa was not one for sentimentality. She did not believe in foolish romance or whispered affections with no weight to them. But she had never wanted that anyway.
She wanted respect. She wanted a partnership.
And as Lucius Malfoy held her in his arms, leading her through the golden-lit ballroom with a gaze that saw her, truly saw her, she realized something. Perhaps, without meaning to, she had found both.
And she didn’t mind it.
-
Hyacinth had been preparing for this night for weeks. The hanbok, the posture, the carefully placed words, the way she would hold herself as if she were untouchable. It was all second nature now. Yet, as she stood amidst the murmurs of the ballroom, beneath the weight of countless admiring and envious glances, she felt something close to exhaustion settle in her bones.
Her sisters had already disappeared into the social labyrinth of pureblood society. Andromeda’s sharp wit lured in those who dared to match her intelligence, Bellatrix basking in the attention that her very presence demanded, Narcissa floating across the ballroom, her dance with Lucius Malfoy unfolding like a story being rewritten in real-time.
Hyacinth remained where she was, allowing herself a single breath before stepping forward to fulfill what was expected of her. Regulus fell into step beside her, their movements in sync, the way they had been trained to be. He said nothing, but his presence was steady, a quiet shadow at her side.
Their first stop was the usual cluster of older witches, those who had known their mother, who spoke of their beauty with veiled interest, their words dripping in both approval and scrutiny. Hyacinth met their pleasantries with grace, offering practiced smiles, soft nods, just enough engagement to keep them pleased but never so much as to invite anything deeper.
But her next stop was less predictable. She approached them because she had to. Because that was what was expected.
The Gryffindor boys. James Potter. Sirius Black. Peter Pettigrew.
They stood near the refreshment tables, slightly apart from the rest of the gathering, as if they didn’t quite belong but refused to acknowledge it.
She held her head high, her steps deliberate, and when she stopped before them, she inclined her head ever so slightly. She hadn’t spoken to Sirius since the incident, and this summer she spent at Noctis Veil.
"Potter, Pettigrew, Cousin," she greeted, her tone smooth and polite. Regulus stood just beside her, posture perfect, his expression unreadable.
James, however, was still watching her.
She had felt his gaze before she even turned in his direction. It wasn’t the lingering kind of look she was used to– the one that came from young heirs weighing their options, or older men assessing her value like a prized artifact.
This was different. This was curious.
Sirius exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “No need to waste your breath, Cinthie. We’re just the lowly Gryffindors, after all.”
Regulus stiffened beside her, his hands clasping behind his back, but he said nothing.
Hyacinth ignored the tension in Sirius’s voice. “I was raised to acknowledge my guests,” she replied coolly. “Surely you haven’t forgotten your upbringing, Sirius?”
His smirk sharpened, but it did not quite reach his eyes. “Oh, I forgot all of that a long time ago.”
She did not let the conversation linger. Instead, she turned her gaze to James, who had yet to speak. An emotion that Hyacinth couldn’t pinpoint flickered behind his hazel eyes.
"Enjoying the night, Potter?" she asked, her voice carefully measured. James tilted his head slightly, lips quirking at the edges. "More than I expected to."
It was an answer she had not anticipated. Sirius scoffed beside him, shaking his head. "Don’t flatter her, James. Hyacinth Black doesn’t need her ego to be stroked even more."
James’s smirk deepened, his gaze never leaving hers. "Is that so?"
For a fleeting moment, Hyacinth considered answering. But instead, she simply offered a graceful, practiced smile before turning away.
Because Hyacinth Black did not entertain foolish things.
Not curiosity.
Not warmth.
And certainly not James Potter.
-
The ballroom of Nott Manor was a symphony of politics, alliances, and careful maneuvering, a battlefield dressed in silk and candlelight. The air hummed with whispered negotiations, unspoken agreements, and the weight of centuries-old traditions pressing down on every guest.
And in the far corner of the room, near the refreshment tables, three boys stood watching.
James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew had been raised in this world. They had attended these events since childhood, and had learned the rules of these gatherings long before they had understood what they meant.
But tonight felt heavier.
Peter shifted uncomfortably, awkwardly adjusting his robes. “Merlin’s beard,” he muttered, grabbing another canapé off a passing tray. “This is… a bit much.”
“It always is,” Sirius said, voice flat. He had stopped caring about these things years ago.
But James was watching. The room was layered with careful choreography. Every conversation had a purpose. Every glance held meaning.
And standing at the center of it all: Hyacinth Black. His eyes lingered on her, longer than he intended. She moved with effortless grace, her violet and gold hanbok an undeniable statement of refinement as she greeted the other guests. But it wasn’t just the way she looked. It was the way she held herself.
Composed. Reserved. Untouchable. Beautifully.
Sirius noticed, and he followed James’s gaze, then huffed a short laugh. “Forget it, mate.”
James raised a brow. “Forget what?”
Sirius smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Hyacinth Black doesn’t thaw for anyone.” A hint of bitterness in his voice.
James tilted his head, watching as Hyacinth exchanged a cool but polite smile with a group of older witches, her expression unreadable. But for a fraction of a second, when she thought no one was watching, something in her face shifted. James caught it.
Just a flicker of tiredness. Of something deeper beneath the mask.
And for some reason he couldn’t look away.
-
The ball had ended.
The grand halls of Noctis Veil were now silent, save for the faint echoes of music still lingering in the air. The guests had gone, the whispered politics had faded into the night, and within the privacy of their chamber, the Black sisters were sprawled around the room.
They were still adorned in their wizarding hanbok, their intricate designs now slightly wrinkled from hours of movement. The golden embroidery on Hyacinth’s sleeves shimmered faintly in the candlelight. For the first time that night, they could breathe.
Narcissa sat near the vanity, carefully removing the delicate golden pins from her hair, the curls cascading over her shoulders with a wistful look on her face. Andromeda leaned against the edge of the bed, her arms crossed loosely, staring at the ceiling as if memorizing the patterns of the enchanted sky painted there.
Bellatrix paced. Recounting all the subtle interactions. Always moving, always restless.
Hyacinth sat at the edge of a cushioned chair, her hands clasped over her lap. No one spoke at first.
It had been a night of flawless execution, of effortless elegance, of playing the game they had been trained to master since childhood. Every bow, every perfectly placed smile, every carefully calculated glance had been deliberate.
“It was beautiful,” Narcissa murmured first, her voice quiet, but content. She set the golden hairpin onto the table with delicate precision. “Every detail.”
Andromeda let out a breathless laugh. “Every detail took weeks to perfect.” She shook her head. “The invitations, the floral arrangements, the stupid charm to get the curtain to ruffle exactly as it should, everything was just so…exhausting.”
Bellatrix snorted, turning sharply on her heel. “It was necessary.”
Hyacinth exhaled, tilting her head slightly. “And it worked.”
“It did.” Andromeda’s lips curled into something almost amused. “Lady Greengrass looked like she was about to faint when she saw us walk in.”
That made Narcissa smile, just barely. Bellatrix smirked. “It was wonderful.”
For a moment, the conversation felt normal. Four sisters shared a moment, reveling in the power they held. And then, Andromeda’s smile faded.
“I can’t do this,” she whispered.
The room stilled. Narcissa turned, setting down another hairpin. Hyacinth blinked, heart, slowing in an unfamiliar way. Bellatrix’s smirk vanished.
“What?” Bellatrix’s voice was sharp, immediate. Andromeda swallowed, her hands tightening around her arms. “I can’t do this. This life. This… world.” Her voice shook, just slightly. “Tonight proved it to me.”
Narcissa furrowed her brows. “What are you saying?”
“I’m leaving,” Andromeda said, finally looking at Hyacinth. “By the end of the summer, I will be gone . And I will never come back.”
The weight of those words sank into the pits of Hyacinth’s stomach.
Silence.
Hyacinth’s chest tightened. Bellatrix stepped forward, the loose fabric of her hanbok billowing around her. “What are you talking about?” she demanded. “You can’t leave.”
“I can.” Andromeda took a slow breath. “And I will.”
Hyacinth shook her head, trying to grasp what was happening. “Where would you even go?”
Andromeda hesitated, just for a second. Then, with quiet resolve, she said, “I am married.”
The room collapsed in on itself. Narcissa’s lips parted, her eyes widening. Bellatrix froze, completely.
Hyacinth’s breath caught. “What?”
Andromeda straightened her shoulders, meeting their gazes. “Ted, he proposed to me right after graduation, and we eloped.”
The words rippled through the air like a curse. It was Bellatrix who reacted first.
“No,” she whispered. Her body trembled, her hands curling into fists. “No, you didn’t.”
Andromeda’s expression softened, but her voice did not waver. “I did.”
Bellatrix’s breath hitched, then she exploded.
"You’re abandoning us?!" Her voice cracked, her usual cold control shattered in an instant. “For a Mudblood?!”
Andromeda flinched, but she held her ground. "I’m leaving for myself.”
Bellatrix was shaking. Her fury was palpable, raw, devastating.
“You’re one of us!” she screamed. Then quietly she whispered, “You’re my baby sister .”
Andromeda closed her eyes, just for a second. “I will always love you,” she whispered. “But I do not belong here.”
Something in Bellatrix snapped. With a sound close to a choked sob, she turned, storming toward the door. “You’re dead to me,” she spat, voice shaking.
She didn’t look back. The door slammed behind her. Andromeda inhaled slowly, blinking back the moisture gathering in her eyes. She had expected it. She had been prepared for it.
But it still hurt.
Narcissa sat still, her hands trembling over her lap. She did not speak, but tears had begun to trail silently down her cheeks. Hyacinth had never seen her cry before. Narcissa swallowed, closing her eyes as if steeling herself, “I want to tell you to stay,” she finally whispered. “That we’ll find a way.”
Andromeda stared at her, eyes wet. Narcissa looked at her for a long moment, and then she nodded as if she had just lost a battle,“But if this is what you want…” Her voice broke slightly, but she forced herself to continue. “Then maybe this is the only way you will get it.”
Andromeda reached out, taking Narcissa’s hand in hers, and squeezing it.
They had always been close. They had always understood each other.
Even now.
Even when it meant saying goodbye.
Hyacinth, who had been frozen in place, felt her heart crack. She rose to her feet, her entire body rigid. "You would throw everything away for him?" Her voice was sharp, shaking. It did not make sense to her, who would be above family? Who would give up their honor and duty ?
Andromeda flinched, but she did not step back, "You don’t understand—"
"No, I don’t!” Hyacinth’s breath hitched. "You belong here, Andromeda! We built this– everything together!"
Hyacinth continued going on a tangent before finally coming to a realization, “Mother and Father will be furious, they will throw you out! …But you knew that didn’t you?” she trailed off, her voice getting quieter. Andromeda’s lips parted, but Hyacinth didn’t let her speak.
“You’re abandoning us. Me.”
Tears burned at the edges of her vision, but she refused to let them fall.
"You are my sister," Hyacinth said, voice barely above a whisper. "How could you?"
Hyacinth’s breath left her in a slow, shaking exhale,“You’re really leaving?” she whispered.
Andromeda nodded, her throat bobbing. Hyacinth closed her eyes. It was inevitable.
She had always known Andromeda was different. Had always known she had questioned things they were not supposed to question.
But knowing did not make it easier.
A tear slipped down her cheek. Andromeda reached to cup Hyacinth’s face and stared into her eyes, trying to memorize the piercing grey orbs of her sister.
Hyacinth did not pull away. Because Andromeda would be gone.
And nothing would ever be the same again.