Shades of Silver and Black

NARCISSA WALKED DISTRACTEDLY ON PLATFORM NINE-AND-THREE-QUARTERS. Perhaps the only reason why she hadn't bumped shoulders with others was the wide burthen people were giving her. Many had paid witness to her attempting to murder Thomas Nott. Everyone had, at the very least, heard the horrifyingly true rumours. However, none spoke against her in public, specifically regarding the glaring illegality and overreaction of the whole incident.

The Hufflepuffs were too scared to testify against her, the Gryffindors felt Thomas Nott deserved the wounds he had been dealt with and the Ravenclaws were too smart to get dragged into a feud by the House of Black— especially considering the recent murder of Lady Avery had also been tied to them behind closed doors in the Manors of a selected few. Even Thomas Nott, despite being the now-bandaged victim, was silent in the wake of him almost dying. Although, he did whisper behind Narcissa's back about the hourglass of her life, which was emptying, signalling she had fewer days to live.

Regulus strolled beside her, gaze fixated on Amal, who had found her parents and was now, standing with them.

She arched a dark brow.

Regulus threw her a wink.

Amal rolled her eyes fondly. Then, she pointed a finger to his toes before using her thumb to make a slashing motion against her throat.

Regulus grinned and slowly mouthed, See you at the dance.

Amal took the lapse of a heartbeat to understand his statement. Then, she mouthed, Last chance to back out.

Regulus shook his head. Just as he was about to respond, two arms linked themselves into Regulus', making him the middle.

"Hello, little brother," Sirius and James greeted in a union, smiling down on him.

Regulus scowled, ignoring them in favour of Amal only to find that she had disappeared into the sea of faces, most likely having returned home. So, he sighed. "Out of every opportunity the two of you could have shown up in, it had to be now?"

"Well, what can I say, we live to displease," James bragged.

"And speaking of living, hey Cissa! Why do you look like an inferi?" Sirius teased, concern prominent in his tone despite the framing of his question.

Narcissa kept walking, oblivious to the question levelled towards her.

James, Sirius and Regulus shared worried glances. They ran after her and before they could tug on her sleeve and ask if she was alright, Orion spotted them, calling out their names. The sound of Orion's voice seemed to snap Narcissa back to reality and she changed the direction of the path she was on towards him. The three boys trailed after her.

There was a space surrounding a smiling Orion and Walburga, whose attire and mannerisms juxtaposed those around them. Dressed in expensive robes and dragon-hide robes while carrying a natural superiority air with them, the couple stood out like a glaring neon.

Their countenances lit up like a firecracker when the Hogwarts-going children approached them. After exchanging the casual pleasantries and generic greetings, Walburga summoned Kreacher the House-Elf to take all their trunks and items of baggage to their respective houses while Orion informed Narcissa and James that he and Walburga were picking them up from the platform and would then be dropping them to home since their parents were caught up with work.

"It feels odd, doesn't it?" Walburga mused abruptly, earring quizzing looks that wordlessly asked her to elaborate. Swivelling towards her husband, she said, "One of us has always picked up Lyra from the station for the past seven years. For a moment, I forgot that she had graduated and was searching for her face in this crowd."

"Me too," Orion confessed as Walburga looped her arm into his. "It's more strange to think that in four more years, we won't have to come to the platform at all."

"Don't be silly, Orion," Walburga said. "We'll be back a little after a decade to send off our grandchildren to Hogwarts."

Orion smiled at her statement. Before he could respond, however, James began making gagging motions while Regulus shut his eyes, pain knitting into his features.

Sirius' face scrunched up with disgust. "Merlin's beard, mother, don't say things like that!"

Walburga arched a brow, eyes glittering in amusement. "And why can't I talk about my future grandchildren?"

"Hypothetical grandchildren," Sirius stressed. "They aren't present yet and honestly, I got chills and goosebumps at the horrifying thought of my sister reproducing with a peacock." To emphasise his declaration, he theatrically shivered.

Regulus and James nodded their heads seriously in agreement with his words.

Walburga fondly rolled her eyes. "I thought you liked Lucius."

"We do," Regulus jumped to reply.

"He's not entirely awful," James added.

"But this is our sister in question. The thought of her reproducing with anyone is enough to make me want to obliviate my mind," Sirius finished before adding, "Besides, you must admit, he does resemble those white peacocks his family adores to flaunt."

"Hey, don't tease Lucius anymore, boys." Orion chastised, not denying the accusation.

James' brows rose high enough to touch his hairline while Regulus displayed shock and Sirius squinted his gaze suspiciously at him. "Who are you and what have you done to my father?"

Orion's eyes rolled at his son's dramatics. "All I'm saying is, don't give him a hard time. Lucius was on the expedition at Machu Picchu, you know, the one where they discovered the ancient—"

"—Lucius allowed your father access to come and take a look at that teeny-tiny object he found that everyone's making a huge deal of," Walburga explained to them exasperatedly. "So, I'm sure your father will be demanding that we give him nothing less than a war-hero's welcome."

Orion's lips twisted to form a pout. "It's so much more complicated than that, darling! Do you realise the monumental significance of this discovery? The one that my future son-in-law will have his name proudly embedded on and let me be one of the first people outside those in the expedition to see? Back in the fifteenth century, when the Icans—"

"—Orion, sweetheart, I'm going to frame this in the nicest way I possibly can, but I could not possibly careless," Walburga interjected, cutting him mid-explanation and rescuing the children from having to sleep with their eyes open. "I already had to listen to you drone on and on about this when Lucius sent the letter. Knowing the torture pre-hand, I do not want to subject the children to it, nor do I want a reminder of the memory I'm deeply trying to forget. Wait till the twenty-fourth for Lucius to arrive and the two of you can gush about it to your heart's content."

"Could I join them as well, mummy?" Regulus inquired politely.

Orion beamed and replied, "Of course you can, son. You can as well, James, Sirius and Narcissa," when Walburga's eyes widened incredulously, reducing only when the two Gryffindors frantically shook their heads, stating excuses. At least two of them had their sanity intact.

But when Narcissa was visibly silent, face displaying concentration and eyes clouded, Walburga and Orion exchanged a worried glance.

"Cissa," Orion called out softly and when she still didn't reply, Walburga gently nudged her, prompting a startled expression to mar Narcissa's features as she was drawn out of her thoughts.

"Oh, hello Uncle and Aunty," she said rather awkwardly, now that she had been caught not paying attention.

"Hello, Narcissa," Orion said again. "Are you alright, dear?"

"Of course, Uncle," came her practise answer.

"Is this about Theodore Nott?" Walburga asked in a low tone. The general, loud chatter engulfing the platform allowed them to not be overheard, acting as a natural muffling charm."Because if it is, say the word and he's dead in three business days."

Narcissa half-smiled. "Thank you, Aunty, but I would like to handle this by myself."

"You can," Orion assured instantly. "Please don't think that we are crowding you or anything, Narcissa. I hope you remember, however, that although you want to fight this battle yourself, all of us will be standing behind you."

Warmth entered Narcissa's chest as she smiled again, more genuinely this time. She non-verbally nodded her head, not trusting herself to speak without breaking down because what the hell did she just say— there was no way she could take care of the matter herself. To prove that she could stay strong and powerful without having the constant, helpful interference and weight of her family, Narcissa was going to die and subsequently, prove them all correct.

Narcissa wasn't Bellatrix to be scarily independent. Narcissa wasn't Andromeda to be capable of throwing away all the dictations that were implanted in her to improvise and survive on her own. And Narcissa was definitely not Lyra to carry heavy burdens and treat it like it was a feather or mercilessly tie up all loose-ends and emerge victorious despite the odds stacked against her without breaking a sweat.

Narcissa was Narcissa.

And lacking the financial and physical backing of her family due to the foolish declaration that she could deal with Theodore Nott's heavy threat to her life single-handedly, Narcissa was considering the option of preparing her will that day.

Later, after Uncle Orion and Aunty Walburga had dropped James over at Potter Manor and Narcissa to her own house, wishing her goodbye as they left hand-in-hand with their two children to another impromptu trip, this time in France; Narcissa found her feet rooted to the ground.

She felt paralysed. She couldn't move no matter how much she tried to force herself to do so. She stood there, staring at the oak-doors that would allow her entrance to her house, where surely, her mother was sitting on the dining table that they never ate at and finalizing the drafts of Witch Weekly and her father sitting beside her, going over Ministry documents. Her parents were waiting for her but Narcissa couldn't bring herself to go.

All she could think about was her impending doom and subsequently, the ruins the Slytherin Court would be reduced to under her rule. Her mind was trapped in the never-ending cycle of misery that blamed herself.

Hundreds of people had been the Silver Ruler before her, many from her family like Lyra, Uncle Alphard and Araminta Black. Yet, she was the one who had failed. She was incompetent.

Did Narcissa deserve to wear the Black name anymore considering she felt like such a disgrace?

Should she step into her house, her father would smile while her mother greeted Narcissa with a warm embrace. Then, they would order the House Elves to cook Narcissa's favourite treats and ask her how everything was going, if everything was alright.

Narcissa didn't think she could lie to them, neither did she trust herself enough to be honest with them without breaking down into a sobbing mess.

Instead, she shut her eyes, wordlessly produced her wand and gave it a wave. When she reopened them, Narcissa was greeted with the familiar sight of the Planetarium, the cool drafts of wind that rolled from the Celtic Sea tickled her rosy cheeks.

Her feet kept walking and her mind kept spiralling. Narcissa didn't realise she passed her Great Aunt Melania and her Uncle Alphard, nor did she notice the many corridors she had crossed, all the paintings hung giving her scrutinising looks of superiority. Narcissa was snapped out of her self-induced daze after she had knocked on the looming doors that led to Lord Black's study and heard a, "Come in,"

The doors caved inwards, allowing Narcissa entrance before magically shutting themselves after she had crossed the archway, stepping inside the study onto the rug, a delicate green, infused with the kind of white that brought memories of baby-breath flowers. From childhood glimpses of running around the study with her sisters and cousins, she knew that it was so soft underfoot, and warmer than the wooden floor around.

Wallpapered with royal green and silver accents, the chandelier that hung from the middle of the ceiling accompanied by the enchanted ever-lit candles that floated in the air in strategic positions played primary roles in brightening the space along with the long windows, when they were uncovered by the silver, velvet curtains.

Tens of bookshelves were pelted against the walls. A fireplace burned with embers, providing warmth. A tea-table made from sandalwood was situated before it, surrounded by green armchairs and a sofa made to match the walls. Directly in front of the fireplace was a mighty, mahogany desk on top of which laid a scattering of quills and ink pots and piles of documents, behind which was her Grand Uncle Arcturus, setting his quill down and giving her all his attention.

"Hello, Narcissa," he greeted, standing up and strolling over to sit on the sofa and gesticulating with a hand for her to do the same.

Narcissa complied.

"Would you like some tea?" Arcturus inquired politely.

Narcissa shook her head.

"How was school? It's your N.E.W.Ts year, isn't it? Don't apply unnecessary pressure or take up too much stress on yourself. Grades are letters on parchment. They don't define you and you shouldn't let them." Arcturus paused, observing the vacant gaze that Narcissa held. Hesitantly, he resumed speaking, "Is Heir Rowle okay? Melania informed me that he'll be in attendance on the 24th for Lyra's surprise party. Speaking of which, you have truly out-done yourself, Narcissa dear. Your plans for that day sound absolutely lovely. I'm sure Lyra would appreciate it very much. I know I do."

Narcissa didn't respond. Rather, she continued sitting on the arm-chair in front of where he sat on the sofa, her ankles crossed and arms folded.

Arcturus willed himself to be quiet. Clearly, he was badgering her with small talk when she wanted to tell him something important. His assertions might have felt pestering or unintentionally demanding to her. So, he decided to wait for her to speak.

Three minutes past. Five minutes past. Ten minutes past. Thirty minutes past. Shortly after crossing the one-hour mark, Arcturus felt the need to attempt to start a conversation between them again, if only for the fear that Narcissa never would.

"You look tired," Arcturus noted, his voice cutting through the air like a slicing charm. "Have you been getting enough sleep?"

"I can't sleep," Narcissa spoke in a whisper. "I've been wearing glamour charms for the past two months to cover up my dark circles. Leonard knows. I doubt anyone else cared to notice." She laughed bitterly. "I want to sleep so badly, but all I can do is worry. I wish I could look at my bed and think "cosy" but instead I see shadows of myself from the night before rocking back and forth as the insanity chews me up." She smiled weakly. "I'm pathetic, aren't I?"

"No," Arcturus answered although Narcissa meant for it to be rhetorical. "You're human, Narcissa, not Lady Hecate. The thing about being human is that you'll bleed when you fall down, you'll crash and you'll break down. But you will find the courage to get back up and stand on your feet again. The thing about being human is that you don't give up no matter how bad things get. Humans face troubles that seem like it's the end of the world but eventually, slowly but surely, they will overcome them. Everything seems hard now but I promise you, one day, it'll fade into nothing but memories."

Narcissa's facial expressions did not alter. Rather, she quietly quipped, "Do you regret it? Changing a legacy that had been established? Shifting your political stance, getting ridiculed because of it, all of which happened due to Andromeda's affection with the boy?"

Arcturus stayed silent so Narcissa repeated her question, this time more firmly, "Do you not regret it, Uncle Arcturus?"

"No, Narcissa, I do not and nor will I ever regret bringing happiness to Andromeda, even if it caused misery to everyone else. Andromeda is part of the family, same as you, and I was given the ultimatum in this situation. At that moment, I was admittedly not thinking about the long term consequences of my decision or even how everyone else would react to it. All I was concerned with at that span of the second was Andromeda's happiness."

Arcturus recollected all the letters he had received from Narcissa lately, along with the information he had heard from others. She was going through turbulent times and was immensely strong to have made it this far. He took a breath, exhaling it slowly. "I apologise that this one decision of mine is causing you much discomfort, difficulty and disappointment, Narcissa, but Andromeda is still with us now because of it, and I cannot bring myself to regret it for that sole reason so I suggest you don't either."

"Then what do you suggest I do?" Narcissa's tone trembled without her consent. "Most of the Slytherins aren't accepting Regulus or me as their king and queen. They've started a mutiny and are, unfortunately, dare I say it, winning. It's awful of me to say, but Regulus doesn't seem to care— not as much as he should, anyway. He's too busy making ga-ga eyes at Amal Shafiq. The students don't have confidence in me to lead anymore. Lyra trusted me with this position and here I am, only a few months later, balancing on broken branches."

Narcissa tossed her head back to laugh humorlessly. Then, she spoke softly, "I love Andromeda but trouble stemmed from that moment on. I might sound selfish, wishing that she never met Ted, but isn't she selfish as well for prioritising her happiness over everyone else's? Forgoing through with her decision despite knowing the consequences it would cause for the rest of us. Isn't that awful of me, to be speaking that way about my sister?"

"It is not, Narcissa," Arcturus assured her at last, a delicate firmness in his tone. Neglecting on informing her that he was more-or-less facing the same problems at the Wizengamot since his colleagues hadn't accepted him transferring from the dark faction to the neutrals, he stated instead, "Your feelings, your pain is valid. You are so strong, Narcissa, and a wonderful leader. You just came into power at the wrong time and are thus, facing the most difficulties in your rule. I doubt anyone would have fared well against the turbulent currents you are trapped in, so do not blame yourself for anything— for the mutiny that is occurring or for your self-proclaimed selfishness. Everyone is selfish in their own way. Why are you categorising that as a bad thing?"

Narcissa sighed deeply, using two of her fingers to massage her forehead in an effort to stop the on-coming migraine. Ignoring her Uncle's question, Narcissa probed, "You already know what all woes are affecting me. It's become common knowledge by now, I'm sure. What I want to know is—" her voice wavered and Narcissa had to inhale sharply to compose herself. "What do I do next, Uncle?"

"Nothing from the past can be corrected and worrying about the future is a fool's game. Enjoy the present," Arcturus advised, a wry smile blooming on his face as he added, "Besides, we are Blacks, are we not? We shall emerge victorious in any and every circumstance; in all battles and wars. If one strategy fails, we can implement an impervious to command and control the outcome. I know that things look monumentally impossible now, Narcissa, but it will get better. You, me, all of us will win simply because we do not know how to lose, and I don't intend to gain that knowledge now. Grab a quill, Narcissa, and let us plan."

"Plan a future free of woes?"

"Plan a present immersed with smiles and gold," Arcturus corrected, a grin lighting up his features. "Let's design a plan that shows what a Black does best— come out on top at the expense of others. Let us rule and make them rue."

Narcissa's smile matched his, a twinkle entering her eyes. "Let's."

People didn't understand the gravity of the word 'ruthless'. They thought it meant 'mean'. It wasn't about being mean. It was about seeing the bright, clear line that led from A to B. The line that goes from motive to means. Beginning to end. It was about seeing that bright, clear line and not caring about anything but the beautiful fact that you could see the solution. Not caring about anything else but the perfection of it. Not caring about anything that had to be destroyed, anything —anyone— that had to be reduced to ruins to achieve that endgame. All is fair, after all.

It was about not having remorse or regretting the consequences of one's actions. It was about plunging into the depths of insanity to emerge victorious, to not care about the ghosts which would later haunt them. It was about sacrificing whatever little morals a person held to stand above the broken bones of survival.

Ruthlessness was mixed into the blood of Blacks and by either bending heaven or raising hell, they would win. Simply because they did not know how to lose and didn't intend to ever gain that knowledge.