Disclaimer: All characters and everything else you recognise do not belong to me. There is no profit made and it's only written for enjoyment.
AN: This is written for the lovely Faliine who requested it far too long ago! I'm sorry it took so long to do so little but I have a plan and I'll try to update as soon as possible. Please be aware that there are mature themes included in this story such as self-harm. If these things will upset you I would recommend you don't read it. Please remember to review and I hope this is a good enough start!
Before the Dawn
Chapter 1
The room was flooded with darkness and the unsettling silence of a black night. The youngest Black sister, Narcissa, was atop her bed with her knees hugged to her chest as she held her breath and buried her pale face in her knees; so to waffle to first whimpers that threatened to shatter the perfect silence.
Narcissa's mother had always told her daughters that it was never acceptable for a pureblood lady to cry and so, little Cissy would wait until the rest of the house were enveloped in sleep before letting her emotions seep out in a desperate, unheard cry for help.
What else could she have done?
Being a daughter of Black was not an easy life for a young girl. The pressure to keep the good name upheld would be enough to break anyone and Narcissa was one of the unlucky few that it did. Every party they attended, every suitor she was introduced to, every day when she'd be forced into her medieval clothing she bit her tongue and held her head high. Everybody saw her as an angel; the perfect daughter that could do no wrong - so unlike the trouble maker Bellatrix and the bookworm Andromeda. That's what they all said:
Narcissa Black the angel.
Even the thought of this image caused Narcissa's heart to squeeze and stomach to churn. She whined in a short cry as tears rolled down her porcelain cheeks. How was she to uphold this perfected image people had of her? Even her family - her best friend and sister Bella included - had no clue as to the damage done to Cissy's mentality.
Her heart skipped a best as head snapped to the door with a short gasp of air as she convinced herself somebody was stood at her door, listening in and learning of her unacceptable nightly weeps.
She sat in complete nothingness for two whole minutes before she began breathing normally again, having been holding it between little swallows of air. She could barely think straight as her sight became useless with the build up of tears and they spilled over with whimpers of a broken girl.
Her thoughts clouded and head span as her short sharp breaths caused an airy, fuzzy pressure in her mind, feeling as if she would soon slip into the abyss of blackness. The prospect frightened her and she wailed into her knees before tilting her head back to the ceiling, eyes locked tight and pink lips stretched into a grimace of pain.
Soon, her cries became tired and she found herself curled in a foetal position on the rich fibre winter sheets, blonde locks splayed over the snowy white pillow.
Numbness overcame her, sending her to a dreamless sleep so to escape the expectations for pureblood aristocracy for a few blissful hours. She knew that one day this suffering would have to end - whether that was to be due to time or something more forceful the young teenager didn't know.
It would end.
The promise that sent her to sleep night after night kept her going. She would be happy one day. She could be herself one day. She could live and love and take pride in her being one day. She only hoped that she'd be able to keep up her act for as long as that took.