Written for the HPFC Flower Language Challenge
Alstroemeria
Symbolises wealth, prosperity and fortune
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"All you need in life is wealth, Druella. Wealth gives you prosperity, and with prosperity, you get power."
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She had only been five years old when her mother had uttered those precious words of wisdom as she combed her only daughter's thin, blonde hair, yet Druella Black had strived to abide by them for her entire life. As a child, she had been brought up exactly the way a young, Pureblood girl was supposed to be. Her entire life had revolved around marriage. For a girl of her era, marriage was the only acceptable way to gain a reputation; for a husband was reflective of the type of woman you were. A wealthy, attractive, Pureblood husband was indicative of a lady's status in society, and without it, she was even lower than a House Elf.
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"Marry a rich man, Druella; do not care for trivial matters such as love."
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Cygnus Black had been offered as a sufficient suitor when Druella was only fourteen. At eighteen years of age, he was handsome, excessively wealthy and the heir of one of the most notable Pureblood families in the wizarding world. Her father had conducted the transaction; they were to be married when Druella graduated Hogwarts and her dowry would taken from her vault and added to her husband's. And, like any fourteen year old girl, Druella couldn't have been happier with the match, and bragged about her engagement to Cygnus to her gaggle of friends at Hogwarts.
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"If a man chooses to marry you, Druella, it means that he is willing to spend the rest of his life with you. Do not ask for anything more."
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Indeed, in the weeks leading up to her marriage, she had not spoken more than a few brief words to her future husband. Time for proper conversation alone was snatched away by dress fittings and writing lists: lists of invited guests (most of whom Druella had never met before), lists of the choices for the banquet, lists of the elf-made wine. When she had first met her future in-laws, Cygnus had treated her with a cold, indifferent manner, that she assumed was because he was tired from work. Alas, he had chastely kissed her cheek when they had bid each other farewell at the end of the evening, but there was no passion to be found and Druella felt herself longing for some sort of emotional connection to her fiancé. Her mother's words loomed over her, and she bit her lip and cried to herself under the covers, praying that somehow it would be different when they were married; that Cygnus was merely holding back from expressing his true feelings in front of prying eyes. He had to love her, didn't he? He was marrying her, after all.
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"Money is the only thing that matters, Druella. Only wealth can give you true power."
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The first time she visited her vault at Gringotts, she was overwhelmed by the sheer size of the place. It was a large as her childhood home, and stacked from floor to ceiling with gold and silver cylindrical towers and an assortment of jewel studded artefacts. Her own Rosier vault seemed tiny compared to the entire Black fortune. The goblin bowed before her and addressed her by Madam Black, a title that filled her with pride and power. As she strolled down the alley, clutching her little money bag, people moved out of her way and averted their eyes at her presence. Never had she felt so revered. She held her head high and sneered down at the passers-by over her straight, regal nose. No longer was she little Druella Rosier, youngest of five. He was Druella Black, a member of the most influential Pureblood family and she enjoyed the awe her new name inspired.
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"You are only here to provide sons for your husband, Druella, for without sons there is no heir."
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It was quite a smooth birth, only four hours, and Druella had looked upon her newborn daughter with fond eyes. Sweat stuck to her forehead and she felt exhausted, but her face was glowing with joy as she cradled her little girl in her arms. She had decided to call her Bellatrix, for name was exotic and beautiful. Little Bella was a splitting image of her father, with a small tuft of black hair upon her head. Her eyes were silver and she threw her chubby fists about as she howled in discomfort. Cygnus had spent her a quick visit and scowled in disproval at his firstborn, before departing rather quickly. Andromeda came next, a year later. She was a quiet little thing; didn't utter a single cry and simply blinked up at her mother with large, brown eyes. Again, Cygnus disproved of his second daughter, and barely spared his daughter any affection. Druella hoped with all her might that their next child would be a son. But alas, when baby Narcissa made her appearance some three years later, Druella knew there was no hope for her. She would never have a son. Cygnus didn't acknowledge her presence for a month after Cissy's birth and Druella spent most of her time in the nursery, caring for her youngest and hoping they didn't end up a disappointment like she was.
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"Have no regrets about your life, Druella. You are wealthy, prosperous and powerful, people should be jealous of you."
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It was the eve of her sixtieth birthday. She sat beside the fire, her feet propped up on a stool and a cup of tea clenched between her cold, bony fingers. The house was empty. Cygnus had passed away some years ago, not that Druella missed his sour presence. As she watched the fire flicker and cast dim shapes across, she thought about her life. When she was a child, she had pictured herself as this beautiful queen, living in a lavish palace, with her handsome husband by her side and her children running about. But, if anything, her life had been completely different. She had married a man who had no care for her, had lived in a large, cold house, void of life, since she was eighteen. She had disappointed her husband with giving birth to three daughters, and had robbed her girls of the right to choose their own path. Her eldest was now a psychopathic maniac, rotting in Azkaban, her second daughter had disgraced the family by running off with a Mudblood, and her youngest, darling Narcissa, was condemned to live the sad, lonely, loveless life that she had been obliged to lead. A single tear fell down her pale cheek and she reached for her wand. There was nothing for her in the life now. Her husband was dead, her daughters married, or in prison. Life was bleak, and she wanted nothing more than to be rid of it. Placing the tip of her wand against her temple, she gave a dry smile. All you need is wealth, mother, she thought bitterly, for it allows you to die in style.
A/N: A different writing style to what I normally write, but I thought I'd do something different. Just a glimpse into the life of Druella Rosier; mother of Bellatrix, Andromeda and Narcissa Black. I always thought that Pureblood witches of her status would have a life similar to women in the Victorian era; where finding a husband and producing heirs was the only goal. And I think it would have been a dreadful life...
If you could be so kind and drop me a review on your way out, that would be great! xx