Lipstick. Check.
Makeup. Check.
Nail polish. Check.
Not a single hair out of place. Check.
On the surface, Narcissa looked perfect as she looked at her reflection in the mirror.
But if someone was to really take a close look at the Pureblood wife and mother, they would be able to see that her pale face was not the result of makeup. No, it was the result of stress and fear.
If someone was to really take a close look at Narcissa, they would also be able to see how tired she was. They would also be able to see how close she was to completely falling apart and breaking.
But for a Pureblood, especially for a female Pureblood, there was nothing more important than appearance.
Narcissa could still remember how her mother had almost panicked when her youngest daughter had gotten her first pimple. After that incident, Druella Black had quickly made sure that Narcissa knew how to cast all the spells that would quickly destroy any imperfections on her face.
Narcissa had spent quite a bit of her time at Hogwarts fixing her face and the rest of her skin that could possibly be seen by the public instead of doing her homework and studying. If Lucius had not been around to help her out, Narcissa probably would have become completely lost.
Druella had not been worried about her daughter's grades, however.
"In a proper Pureblood woman, beauty is always more important than brains," Druella often told Narcissa, even after her youngest had become a married adult. "A beautiful Pureblood woman makes her husband look good as well. However, if a Pureblood woman looks common and ugly, that reflects poorly on her husband. And you don't want to hurt Lucius's public appearance, now do you, my little Cissy?"
"Of course not, Mother," Narcissa had replied both quickly and respectfully.
Narcissa remembered Lucius asking her one night in the Slytherin common room why she was so far behind in her homework.
"Is something bothering you, Narcissa?" Lucius had asked in a concerned voice, clearly ready to go curse whoever it was that was causing her such distress. "You're much too smart to be struggling like this."
Lucius was the only one who had ever called Narcissa smart, and it warmed her in the inside.
Even though she would have accepted it if Lucius had only wanted her for her beauty, she definitely appreciated the fact that he had given her a value that went beyond the surface of her skin.
"I'm having problems with pimples," Narcissa had explained, "and my mother doesn't like that."
Lucius had then nodded his head in understanding. Appearance was important for all Purebloods, and even though male Purebloods were given slightly more leeway than female Purebloods, Narcissa knew for a fact that Abraxas Malfoy would have never allowed his son out of the manor looking anything less than perfect.
The fact that Lucius's life behind the walls of Malfoy Manor was anything but perfect did not matter. All that mattered was that Lucius's life looked perfect.
It was the same way with Narcissa.
"I can brew you a potion that will keep the pimples away for at least a month," Lucius had then said.
Even though she knew it wasn't proper, Narcissa had hugged Lucius in relief and gratefulness.
Lucius had been taken aback for a moment, but he awkwardly returned Narcissa's hug. And before he could help himself, a slight smile of genuine happiness had appeared on his face. And for that brief moment, Lucius's face had not reflected its usually coldness and hardness.
"Why didn't my mother teach me how to brew this?" Narcissa had asked Lucius when he had handed her a dosage of the potion. "It definitely would make keeping my skin perfect a lot easier and a lot quicker, and it doesn't look that difficult to make."
Lucius hesitated for a moment before saying, "Your mother probably didn't know about this potion."
That had been Lucius's diplomatic way of saying that Druella Black did not use her brains like he thought she should.
It was hard, though, to let go of a lifetime of training and breeding.
Narcissa's world was shattering all around her, but that didn't mean she shouldn't still look her best. Her mother would want her to look her best.
Narcissa met the reflection of her eyes in the mirror. She was close enough to see the tears that were starting to form.
But at least she looked beautiful. And at least she would look perfect as she cried.
That was, of course, until her tears ruined her makeup.
And then she would have to start the whole beautifying process all over again. Then, she would look perfect again.
And she would look perfect until she started crying again.
That, of course, would mean once again doing the whole beautifying process.
It was a never ending cycle that was quickly draining Narcissa of all her energy and strength.