Shades of Silver and Black

Frost entered Lyra's eyes as she arrived at a conclusion. She tore the envelope, prying it open and fishing out the letter, before reminding herself that although she may be burying a hatchet, she must keep a map of their location. But then again...

Why did she have to bury a hatchet in the first place? Why did she have to cast aside her fury prematurely, just because she was needed? Why was she called on only when she was needed, like a pathetic yet important house-elf?

She glimpsed back at the folded piece of paper which tempted her to read it. Then, she glanced at the embers in the fireplace, and discarded Narcissa's letter into it, allowing it to be consumed by the flames. She averted her attention to Theodore's letter and filed a reminder in her mind to write him a thank-you note, before sifting through the remaining stack of envelopes she had received.

For the first time since the incident with Thomas Nott, Narcissa slept well. She had established herself as a force among the students belonging to Slytherin, and been firm in front of the members of the Court, whose loyalty towards their practised traditions seemed to reduce with every whisper of the Dark Lord. Narcissa had left her mark on the legacy, proving that she was more ruthless than Lyra, who had ruled with an iron hand for the past seven years. Narcissa had no reason to worry, no reason to be concerned, nothing to ponder over. So, sleep had come easy that night, and Narcissa had welcomed it.

But in the pale rays of the morning sun, after Narcissa had finished getting dressed and was about to head for classes, an owl flew in, dropped a letter and sped away before the venomous snake in Narcissa's room could make it its meal.

Narcissa's initial reaction had been to stare at the letter with furrowed brows. She hadn't been expecting any letters so soon. Then, a ghost of a smile danced on her petal lips. It must have been congratulatory letters from her Great Uncle Arcturus. Her Great Uncle had lent her an ear as she informed him of the situation and had provided encouraging words to motivate her to solve her situation by herself. She was grateful to him for that. At first, she had desired that he smooth things over between the two houses. But her Great Uncle had helped her realise that this was something she had to do alone.

She had to stand high like a pillar with her chin raised in pride so nobody could claim she was weak, that she was incapable of doing anything without asking for help. Furthermore, he had reminded Narcissa that the weight of the mighty House of Black was behind her. Even if she fell, they would help her stand, but she was the one who would have to walk.

After much debating, Narcissa had coined a plan. Killing him would be an attack that the House of Nott would take great offence over, not to mention, she could be tried in a court of law due to it. It would work against her considering everyone knew that she and Theodore Nott were at odds now. However, making him suffer was another thing entirely.

Making him the one thing his family were most repulsed by—a mudblood—would be an act of perfect revenge, the flawless defence.

With that idea in mind, Narcissa had set to planning the whole winter holidays. She perfected the spell after days of practice on the older, more useless house-elves. Taking in the excuse of the holiday season, Narcissa applied the spell on a gift. Then came the problem of how to make sure Theodore not only received the present but also opened it, thus getting in contact with the spell she charmed on the inside of the wrapping paper. Should Narcissa herself send it to him, it would have gone in the rubbish pile. Lyra, however, was neutral, and her fiancé was one of Theodore's best friends. The stars connected into constellations, and then she had been ready.

Just thinking about her hard work, the effort of which had turned into fruit the previous night, kindled a smile on her face. Narcissa picked up the letter and opened it. She regretted it instantly, as her happiness dissipated and rage possessed her.

Dear Narcissa,

If you're going to kill me, do it yourself. Don't ask your cousin to do your dirty work for you and claim credit for the idea. And if you're going to lie about killing me, take lessons on how to lie better.

I've been lenient. So far, I've been employing one of Lyra's tricks and letting your paranoia consume you, which I'm relishing. My father once told me that embarrassment is greater than death, at times. Thank you for allowing me to see that he's right.

I'm done with my revenge. I'm not going to take it further. I've never been the violent type, and I have a strong inkling that you're going to humiliate yourself further, so why should I bother putting in efforts?

Therefore, I've decided to be the gentleman in this situation and let you off the hook for harming my brother. But I dare you to give me another reason to harm you, for I'd love to.

For obvious reasons, I'll have to revoke your invitation to Cassie and I's wedding. I hope you're terribly disheartened by it and get bitten by the same venomous snake your cousin tasked you to take care of. You used to be quite close with both Cassie and your cousin if I recall correctly. Shame you're horrid. I did like you initially, Narcissa, and so, I wish you the most dreadful and malicious days ahead :)

With immense hatred,

Theodore, Heir Apparent of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Nott.

P.S: You are Nott good at bluffing. I wonder how you play Blackjacks. (Do you get it? Cassie says that's funny, and Cassie's never been wrong.)

Narcissa's cheeks burned with embarrassment and her breathing quickened. Humiliation seeped into her bones and mixed with her blood. Then, her anger set in. Her jaw clenched and her hands tightened into fists to crush the letter. She threw it to the opposite end of her room, and her body shook with ire.

Narcissa's anger felt palpable. As if it was a tangible, living demon that she wanted to set free on her enemies to destroy. Her eyes slit to reflect those of the snake her so-called cousin had tasked in her care, Godric. Her eyes slid towards the snake near her study desk, and as if it wanted to show support, it bared its fangs. Narcissa took that as advice.

She marched to the floo in her room—the same room that her cousin had once occupied, the one that all the Silver rulers before her—including a certain Dark Lord, not that Narcissa was privy to that knowledge—had lived in. This room announced that she was Queen, and Theodore's letter had announced that she was an embarrassment. Narcissa's fury flamed into a wildfire.

When Narcissa's head popped into the fireplace with the embers and flames kissing her burning cheeks, she noticed Lyra seated in what she deduced was the parlour of the quaint house in Argentina. Her shoulders were hunched forward, brows meeting in concentration. A needled thread was hovering in the air, while Lyra's wand flicked and swished steadily and quickly. There were cuts of meat spread out on the tea table in front of her, and Narcissa gathered that she had practised suturing.

Lyra looked up at the sign of the fires roaring and tilted her head. The lights of the room were dim, and it was dark outside. Shadows danced on Lyra's face. She set her wand down, leaned back and folded her arms over her chest, waiting.

"You did it again," Narcissa said, her deathly low voice echoing off the high ceilings.

Lyra's shoulders stiffened at her accusing tone.

"I shouldn't even be surprised at this point, but I am. You Queens really don't like having your thrones occupied by another, worthier candidate, do you? Look, Lyra, it must be hard to fall from glory like Icarus. I empathise with your situation, I really do. However, I don't condone what you're doing. I'm not sure what kind of sick power-play that is, but in case it hasn't hit you yet, you're not the Queen anymore. I am. Is this some odd tradition, where former Queens sabotage their successors? Elenor Bletchley is still at odds with you. I've seen her spite you every time you meet. Is that it? Is that what you're doing to me?"

"Is that what you think I'm doing?" Lyra asked quietly.

"It's hard to think otherwise." Narcissa stared at Lyra with accusingly hurt eyes. "You chose him over me. You chose a friend over blood. I asked for one thing. Just one. You've always encouraged me to let you handle things, and when I did, you let me down. I didn't even ask for much. Just a cursed letter. You could have done that within a minute, but you didn't. Instead, you chose to humiliate me in front of the entire Slytherin house and thus, disgraced the House of Black."

"There's a lesson to be learnt here then, Cissa."

"Never trust your cousin?" Narcissa countered bitterly.

"That, and," Lyra paused. A storm brewed in her eyes. Darkness fleeted past her face, making her look frightening. Dangerous. "Never order me around, Cissa. You might think you've figured me out and know precisely which of my heartstrings to tug, but... Well, I'm petty. I hold grudges, especially against family members because you were supposed to be on my side. Since you weren't, why should I be on yours?"

Narcissa's lips twisted like she was disgusted with her cousin. She recalled all the family values Lyra had preached when they were younger. "You're so pretentious."

Lyra beamed. "Took you long enough to figure that out, kudos to you on that." Her eyes grew heavy. "I know how it is to be stuck under a legacy, always being compared and wanting to create a name of your own." That was the core reason Lyra became a healer, after all. To be different.

Lyra's voice softened further. "And I know it must be horrid to drown under expectations and live in constant fear of not reaching up to them, let alone exceeding them. But you can't just be rude to me and demand that I help you. You might have thought you were coming off as firm and embodying your Queen of Slytherin persona, but that's not how things work, not with me, and I'm unwilling to encourage that. You should have been kinder, you should have asked nicely. I would have forgiven you, I really would have. I wouldn't have done anything to Theodore, but I would have settled the matters well. At the least, with fewer repercussions than there is now. But if you assumed that your passive-aggressive writing on the envelope would intrigue me to pull out the letter, it worked. But if you thought that phrasing a request as a command would come across as strong, I hate to be the one to break it to you, Cissa, but it comes off as entitled and a little whiny, which is not the tone you want to possess."

Narcisse clenched her jaw.

Lyra shook her head again. "Even after all the time we've spent together and despite you claiming to know me best, you're forgetting two crucial things. One, you don't know me. Nobody knows me. You only know the version of me I've put up in front of you. You've barely scratched the surface. And secondly, however...terrible...you might behave, however many power plays you may display, whatever you do, it won't work with me simply because I'm a worse human being than you are. And don't even try to appeal to my conscience, dear cousin. You may find I don't have one."

Narcissa glared at Lyra with enough heat that the fire around her would feel cool.

"It's funny," said Lyra. "Hilarious, really, that I get blamed even if I do something, or if I don't. I never interfered once, Narcissa. I admit, I was upset initially when you never approached me for any tips or assistance for the Court, but I've given a lot of thought to the words you told me during Yule and found myself agreeing. It's your rule, why should I try to shadow your movements? So, I decided to listen."

"You're twisting the matters. That's not what I'm saying, and you know it."

"I do not," said Lyra sharply. "I have not a single clue which altered version of the events that you refer to. In case your memory fails you, dear cousin, a few days ago, you came to me, not the other way around. I didn't read your letter. I thought so, for one moment, but I kept true to my decision, which had been based on your words, and threw it into the fire. You can't take credit for your victories and fault others for your failures. That's not how ruling works. You need to take accountability. And if you can't handle the weight of actually acknowledging your errors, then fix it. Turn your losses into gains. Turn the tide. Perform glorious miracles and give the illusion of perfection for all I care but don't condemn me for your choices. If it helps, this was nothing personal. I needed House Nott as an ally. I'm playing a bigger game than yours. I don't care for your reputation or ruling much longer, not when I have legacies and lives on the line. Yours, unfortunately, included."

"You just said it yourself, you're playing with my life and my legacy which you seem to hate. How is that not interfering?"

"I'm not interfering with your life or your legacy," corrected Lyra. "I'm just making sure both of those come out mostly unscathed after...things...happen."

"What things?" Narcissa growled.

Lyra's cheeks were dimpled. "Now, now, I can't have you interfering in my plans, can I?"

Narcissa shook her head almost mournfully, like she was grieving the person she had assumed Lyra was. "We have the same blood flowing through our veins," whispered Narcissa, her voice shaking from disappointment and fury. "I thought you were my sister, or something closer. I looked up to you. I loved you, and you betrayed me when I needed you most. You spoke a great deal about the pride we take in our family and our name when we were younger, and now, you left me to rot." Her eyes travelled from Lyra's platinum coloured hair to the heavy ring on Lyra's finger. "I suppose because you have a new family now, and a new name, you no longer care about what you had. The House of Black is still being shamed for Ted marrying in. I can't believe you willingly shamed us more."

"You shamed us more," corrected Lyra with a tilt of her head and Narcissa flinched the slightest. "You were the sister I always wanted. I adore you, I love you. I left you the Court not only because you were family, but because you were you. I thought you could do it, and I still believe you can. But this isn't the way to go about it. You're complicating matters that had to be let go. You're pushing away allies at the time we most need it. Your impulse-led decisions are bringing shame to the House of Black. Why do you think Grandfather Arcturus didn't smoothen things out? Why do you think you were led to write a letter to me of all people, which I'm sure would have caused you to take a hit to your pride?"

"I didn't—"

"He was warning you not to do this," Lyra spoke over Narcissa. "His lack of intervening isn't a sign of how much he trusts you to handle responsibility, but his way of warning you that you're not doing the right thing. He's probably doing damage control as we speak."

"No—"

"I'm all for power plays, but not when the pillars of power are changing. You became Queen at the most troublesome times, nobody can blame you for those students distancing themselves from the Court and losing faith in our ways, in our traditions and beliefs. That's out of your control. But not Theodore, who was defending his stupid little brother against the person who nearly killed him, like how we defended our stupid little brother against the person who nearly killed him three years ago. Those are decisions, choices, you made in a clear mind on how to handle; you didn't handle them well. What's done has been done. Let it go. Focus on damage control. Focus on accountability, on responsibility."

"Don't tell me what to do," snarled Narcissa. "It's odd how you keep saying you won't do anything to my life or legacy but constantly command me how to live it. I'm not your imperio'd puppet. Hypocrite, much?"

"Very, but there's a difference between telling you how to live your life and advising you to not fuck things up further."

"For someone who seems to be so concerned about what and what I don't do and claiming to make me come out of this unscathed, you're awfully good at doing nothing at all."

"That's because you're awfully good at astounding me to a terrible point of shock. I can't tell if that's pleasant or not."

"Not for you."

"I gathered that much. I was referring to yourself." Suddenly, Lyra beamed and clapped her hands together. "Anyway, I have to go—letters to burn, meat to stitch, Lucius to ignore. Have a nice day, bye." She sang the last word, and cut the connection to their floos with a wave of her hand, halting whatever protests Narcissa was about to recite.