Narcissa II
Narcissa watched her Aunt Walburga and Mother sweep out of the room with both simmering relief and rising apprehension. They imitated every thought as they left, louder, as if it would spread their scorn across the two-metre gap separating them. She had hoped, vainly, that her mother might have restrained herself if only for Narcissa’s sake. She was wrong.
Sirius squirmed between them, spelt silent by her Aunt’s hand. It had become almost a tradition for him. To her knowledge - and others - neither of her or her two sisters had required the same treatment to keep them silent and Ursa was quiet enough to rival even Bellatrix in the cradle. Spying on those memories, however willing or not, was rather interesting to see her oldest, brashest sister lie peaceful for once.
Ursa was looking with her identical, blank expression that she always had as she lay in Mother’s arms. Narcissa offered her a smile, even if she was as quiet as the grave, in more her comfort than her sisters.
(-al) Uncle Arcturus was spilling over the edges, just a bit, and Narcissa resisted the urge to tell him his shields were failing.
To be frank, Narcissa found even Orion’s occlumency shields flabby to her own, powerful and natural legilimency. There wasn’t much to be done about it, though, her Mother had explained one day. Unless a person studied day and night or experienced a frequent barrage of mind magic every few days or so, nobody would step in Narcissa’s way beyond being a minor nuisance.
It made being around Ursa all the better. Someone who could match her, even if she wasn’t as sensitive to the magic around her as Narcissa was, in power. If Bellatrix was the firestorm- you could taste it on your tongue, smoke and ash cloying in your mouth, every time she stirred the air - and Andromeda was the stable stone that you could build your house upon, Ursa was the agile breeze that could - would - become a hurricane with time.
Narcissa personally thought her magic was like a river, flooding from the never-ending pool of magical energy that dwelled within her, but she could be biased.
“Look at how you’ve grown!” Said Grandmother Irma faux brightly. There was always the undercurrent of unruffled steel in her mood that had Narcissa keeping her distance. “You’ll be taller than me one day, Bellatrix.”
“Like that’s hard to do.” Uncle Arcturus muttered under his breath.
Technically, Arcturus was their first cousin twice removed, but it was much easier to simply call him Uncle. Narcissa also knew that Grandfather Pollux simply wanted to rankle him rather than use the term as an endearment.
Bellatrix stared back at their cooing grandmother blankly.
“I do wonder how your studies are progressing. It’s only proper that a witch has training before Hogwarts. I received word that Andromeda was learning several languages, what was it?” Irma made a show of thinking, even though she had memorised every detail on the girl. “Français, Deutsch and-”
Arcturus interrupted her with a scoff. Pollux aimed a steady glare at his back. “Come now, woman, we aren’t here to talk teaching. I’m sure Pollux’s granddaughters are being taught by the finest tutors of the age. Shouldn’t we get onto… important matters?”
The adults in the room froze.
(a sigil, a dead family sigil, hanging on the wall - the ministry asks my opinion as the patriarch - the snake that hisses of purity - what he asks, my debt that my - unreasonable - what matter more, the family or - the sick scent of illness hanging in a room of unfathomable darkness - I have powers beyond even you, old friend - a glint of red, green and silver )
The blurring whirl of memories and words stilled, as the room snapped into focus.
“Of course, cousin.” Pollux regarded Bellatrix, Narcissa and Andromeda with a careful eye. “Go to your playroom, now, dear girls. The adults have discussions to hold.”
“Shouldn’t Walburga be here?” Orion murmured, playing absently with a series of swinging spheres.
Cygnus nodded in agreement. “If we are to talk on family matters -” (a ring upon a finger - vows meant but not kept) “- we should have all the family here.”
(a delicate brush sifting through dark hair, eyes lined with dark makeup and a kiss on the cheek - a proposition-)
Grandfather and Uncle Arcturus swapped a gaze that, for once, was neither spiteful nor scornful nor balefully hateful and Pollux ended their civil, silent discussion with a swift nod of his head. “Bellatrix, girl, flag an elf down when your out. Close the doors behind you, tightly. You know how to activate the house runes?”
A smile spread across her face and Bellatrix nodded smugly. “Father showed me.”
Her face fell when Grandfather turned away dismissively, the tea tray being long taken away by elves as he sat where Narcissa’s mother and aunt had been before. Irma took the seat beside the very large window that drapery was stitched in gold and silver, shifting to allow Arcturus to sit stiffly beside her.
A hand took her own, pulling her up from the sofa which sat all three Black girls. Bellatrix was scheming (a cross scribbled with a ‘y’, the rune-) as she drifted to the door, waiting for Andromeda to catch up. Narcissa was sure that if they weren’t all explicitly ordered to leave, her sisters would have rushed out without her. Catch up, Cissy, Bellatrix had laughed one day, scraping through the halls with a spare wand in hand, we’ll leave you behind!
Narcissa dutifully accompanied her elder sister, who was already starting a conversation with Bellatrix, letting her hand fall wayside as the two slipped out the door. Her eldest sister stood to the side of the double doors, letting them close as she called out. “Elf!”
A crack in the air and a sullen, greying elf appeared in front of her eldest sister, bowing low when it caught sight of her sister’s disdainful glare. Its nose scraped the floorboards and its ears flopped forward, lined with wisps of white hair. Bellatrix was contemplating kicking the poor thing and Narcissa went to intervene - injured servants were poor servants, getting them to beat themselves based on their measurement was far better at both judging loyalty and keeping eligible to work, Father said- but Bellatrix made no way to move apart from crossing her arms.
She looked very much like a Walburga in miniature.
“Get my aunt and mother, won’t you?” Bellatrix sneered. It was an ugly thing on somebody like Bella, Narcissa thought with a frown. “My grandfather and uncle are talking on ‘family matters’ before dinner.”
The elf bowed even lower, but there was no tremble in his arms and no shaking in his legs, unlike the elf in the nursery. “Of course, Miss Bellatrix.”
“Good.” Bellatrix nodded smugly but the elf had snapped away with a crack.
It certainly didn’t take long for her mother and aunt to come hurrying back to the sitting room, looking unruffled and poised. There was an undercurrent to them that spoke of urgency, of topics that needed addressing as Narcissa’s mother drifted by them with keen eyes. They were all treated with attentive inspections, searching for any sign of upset or hurt.
It was all pointless. Narcissa knew that her mother had been raised differently than a Black would be raised, being born a Rosier but - (a hand on her cheek, a ruffle of hair, ‘i care for you’ told in so many ways-) - she kept strictly to the lines drawn centuries ago. They would be scorned for their weakness and ignored for their strength - until they were of an age that it was important.
Bellatrix brimmed with excitement, all but vibrating as she closed the heavy wooden doors behind the two women. They shut with a heavy thud. Andromeda jolted beside Narcissa, who had dug her nails into the soft flesh of her hands.
Her eldest sister knelt beside the corner of the wooden doorway, hands dusty and holding a piece of broken chalk as she drew over a faint scar on the dark door.
“You’re supposed to cross it with a ‘y’,” Narcissa added, trying to be helpful.
Her sister’s face darkened. “I know, Cissy. Do you want to hear them or not, dummy?”
“We’re not allowed to,” Andromeda said softly, but her eyes were tracking the engraved wood decorations to crack in the door, where tiny sounds echoed out every other second. Narcissa would find no ally in her. “What if we get caught?”
Bellatrix shrugged, her curls falling over her shoulder. “We won’t.”
You always do, was on the tip of her tongue. Be it by her Aunt Rosetta - who was, currently, still running around Egypt if her mother’s complaints were to be believed or by their parents. But it stuck, trying to converse the conflicting paths of interest and trepidation.
It didn’t matter what her choice was, because only one person - two if you push it, and Bella’s was always pushing the limits of anything she felt - could fit by the crack in the door. Bellatrix got there first, smiling with triumph and eager and Andromeda had followed her, like a dog would a master, standing at an awkward angle with unspoken inquisitiveness written on her face.
(“-follow madmen in their false conquests?! We did that for a self-proclaimed king, a millennia ago, and it brought us to our knees-
“That was for his cause, this is a shared one-”
“-egardless of whether we want to, we have to, I owe him a debt. A heavy one. If he calls upon our family for reinforcements-”
“-pay for your son’s folly, do you understand me-”
“I am the head of this family, you will do-”
“-quiet, the adults are talking-”)
It was easier, Narcissa felt, to listen instead of watch. It was being tuned into radio you didn’t desire to have, nor own, nor paid for but it was far better than watching the world disappear beneath your feet and replaced with a new one.
“A Dark Lord rising,” Bellatrix said, eyes wide with awe. “Powerful, too.”
But none of the two followed her hero-worship. “Bella,” Andromeda said, hesitantly. “I think Grandfather’s right. We all know that muggles are scum but… isn’t it easier to just let them play about in their muck? Grindewald had the same idea, Bella, and look what happened to him-”
“What, are you a blood traitor now?” Narcissa flinched back at her harsh tone.
“No, Bella.” Andromeda placated. “I’m just saying, be careful.”
“Aren’t I always?” Bellatrix preened under an invisible gaze. Narcissa watched a wedge form between her sisters - one trying to forge a legacy and another a place to live. Bellatrix had that look in her eye, that look that promised fear in the form of well-placed cow liver and curses behind a corner (glory-fame- his best lieutenant), that offered nothing but retribution. Narcissa wondered, distantly, if she had always looked like that.