For the Noble House of Black, being a girl was a disgrace. You were a disappointment from birth, and nothing you could do would ever change that fact. You were looked down upon, thought of last, if you were thought of at all. You were to make heirs for other families, not your own.
And for her mother and father, having three daughters had brought them to a shame they could have never foreseen.
All the girls had been well behaved and obedient, as all children from their house should be. And by the time she had turned four, she, like her sisters, had had a marriage all set up for her.
No one rebelled. No one questioned their duties. Love and affection were desirable, but none were put on a high importance. Keeping the blood line pure and clean was of upmost importance to everyone, even if you didn't know why.
Being the youngest Black, Narcissa had always considered herself a princess – her family was royalty, after all. But one of the first moments she experienced rebellion, was a moment she couldn't call her own. The day her parents had been informed that her older cousin, Sirius, had been sorted into Gryffindor, it had caused an outrage in her house, it would have snapped any rebellion she had out of her – if there had been any to be found, which of course there wasn't; why rebel against nothing that was wrong?
But her whole family was in an uproar over this, and Narcissa was too young, too naïve and childish to understand why this news had unsettled them so. She was too young to understand the importance held in the expectations, the duties, and the traditions her family had held. After all, her entire family had been built upon the foundations of traditions. A Black could not exist with pride if not being a purebred Slytherin. Could they?
She could remember, no matter how many years into the future she went from that day, sitting at the super table, looking at her father's furious face as he slammed his fist upon the table, claiming that the sorting hat was outrageous. It was disgraceful!
…It had been like her and her three sisters.
The second act of rebellion had come from her eldest sister, Andromeda. Narcissa had never been close with her middle sister, Bellatrix, despite their shared beliefs; Narcissa had never been one for the extreme. People were people. The people she was brought up to shun and believe were unworthy of their magic did not bother her. They meant nothing to her, so why think of them?
But her sister had never shared her family's beliefs, despite being a Slytherin and swift as a whip, she had been the real shame of their mother and father.
The morning of June 16th, 1969, Narcissa's life had truly changed forever.
There was a note left in Andromeda's room, and a personal note for Narcissa, explaining everything that Narcissa had kept in a personal box in her bedside table. For months after, she'd reread it, the words sinking in to her very bones, becoming a part of her, even if her sister now was not.
I love him. We were never to know such an indulgence, because if we were, we could never choose this path our parents had set up for us. I don't love the man Mother and Father want for me. I could never give myself for him. I'd rather have a fleeting moment with Ted, despite everything, then spend a life time of regret with a man I could never cherish only to bare him a pair of heirs. Please forgive me, my wonderful sister, because I'm not betraying Mother and Father, I am betraying you. I turn my back to my family, and by default, we must turn our backs to each other. I know you cannot disappoint them. I am not even certain if you will finish this letter, but Cissy, please know that I love you. You are my sister. I don't want to leave you. I never thought I would. I will owl you when I'm safe, but if you so wish to not speak to me, I understand.
Tear stains had ruined the piece of parchment over the years when she'd sit and reread the words. First they were tears of confusion. Then they became tears of hate and anger. Then they'd blossomed into regret, anger, jealousy, rage, desire; every emotion inside her now fell to the parchment in a desperate wish to be like Andromeda and less like a Black.
In Narcissa's final year of Hogwarts, she'd experienced her first act of rebellion.
It wasn't a secret that Florence Mullen was a muggle-born. It was the talk and shame of Slytherin when she'd told the people at her table about the story of getting her letter, and it was how for seven years, anyone and everyone who had any importance had shunned the girl.
Narcissa didn't hate Florence, she barely even knew the girl with her honey coloured hair and eyes that were a silvery grey. But suddenly, she had.
Narcissa liked to pretend to herself that she didn't know how it happened, but she knew, deep down how she and Florence had gotten close.
Common rooms were a funny thing, and so was needing help on a particularly difficult transfiguration essay. Florence, who had been the only one up late doing homework had offered Narcissa help.
Out of habit, she wanted to turn her nose to the girl. She didn't need a mudblood's help. But as she looked at her essay, she knew that if she went with her pride, she'd never get it done. Relenting, the two girls worked through it together, and suddenly their distance had shortened, though not by much.
They had spent the entire four months in the common room after it cleared together. They learned things about each other: Narcissa was to be married to a boy she distantly knew, but had never truly met. Florence wanted to be in magical law enforcement. Narcissa hated all sweets, except for Bertie Botts Every Flavoured Beans. Florence loved quidditch, despite her fear of heights. Narcissa didn't believe in fate, destiny, or even love. Florence did.
It was an odd friendship, and suddenly, it didn't feel like a friendship at all.
They went on an adventure one night. Up in the astronomy tower, Florence told Narcissa the story of the stars her parents had told her.
Her family had been named after constellations, but she'd never heard the tales that followed their names. There was no time for fairytales. Just work, work, work. But she had forgotten what they were working for.
Florence stopped her story halfway and turned to Narcissa. "How can you possibly marry someone you don't know?"
Narcissa blinked. "What?"
"How do you marry a stranger? What is the purpose of it all?"
Narcissa was confused. "Because it's my duty," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It's what my parents expect of me, of my sisters." What they had expected of Andromeda.
Florence shook her head. "But why?" she implored. "Why is it so important?"
"Because that's just the way it is."
"Well I think it's stupid."
"Mudbloods like you would never understand," she said with a sigh, not realizing exactly what she had said.
Florence looked at her friend. "You're not better than me simply for being pureblood, Narcissa."
"I know that."
It was a lie and they both knew it.
"Your name means nothing to me. It doesn't mean anything to a single person outside of our house, so quit acting all high and mighty. There is nothing special about you or your family."
Narcissa blinked, and then looked down at her hands, unable to find a reason why she was better. Blood was all she had. Her magic wasn't stronger than Florence's, nor was her ability to learn.
Narcissa bit her lip. "Have you ever been in love?" She was thinking of her sister's letter, suddenly wanting to know what love was.
Had she ever loved anyone?
Had she ever been loved?
"Yes," Florence said. "Have you?"
"I…" Narcissa sighed. "No."
Florence looked over at her friend. "Do you love me?"
It was such a bold question and it frightened Narcissa.
"I…" Narcissa said, her gears shifting. She did, but she shouldn't, but she couldn't remember why. "I do in my own way, yes."
"I love you, too."
And Narcissa felt something inside her tug. A part of her wanted to cry because of how happy it made her, another part because of how badly it hurt.
On the eve of graduation, she and Florence snuck up to the astronomy tower. The stars and moon were hidden by a silvery mist that clung to the air like poison. The air was hot and far too humid for this early in June. The air smelt like heat and fog, but the two girls sat on the floor, talking about their future.
"I am to marry Lucius this summer," Narcissa said.
Florence looked up. "What?"
"Early August," Narcissa further explained. "We're to be married and moved into a nice house before the fall."
Florence looked devastated. And she was; they both were.
"Don't marry him." She said her voice desperate and pleading.
It broke Narcissa heart, but instead, she turned away and faced the view of the lake in the distance. "I have to," she said. "It's my responsibility."
"Please, Narcissa, don't."
Narcissa swallowed thickly, tears clung to her eyes as her heart suddenly felt a thousand pounds heavier. "It's not that simple."
"Yes it is. You know it is." Florence said her voice frantic and she grabbed Narcissa's hands, forcing her friend to look at her teary eyed friend. "I love you. Not him! Don't marry someone you don't love, please!"
Narcissa felt tears in her eyes, but she closed them, biting her lip hard.
"Run away with me," Florence pleaded with her.
Oh and how Narcissa wanted to. Her very soul ached for it, but she sat there, the word clinging to her tongue, yet she was unable to let it go. She loved Florence, but Andromeda had been right: she loved her family's pride more.
What kind of disgrace would she be? She'd be the worst one. And her parents, two children in one family, and the other with a muggleborn girl, it'd be the epitome of disgrace.
Narcissa's tears slid down her cheeks. "You don't understand, Florence," she whimpered.
Florence dropped her hands. "No, Narcissa, I don't." Her voice was cold, distant as she looked at her friend.
No, they weren't friends. They hadn't been for a long time. How could two lovers just remain friends?
"I do love you," Narcissa whispered, then leaned in, kissing her. She had to just once, and instantly regretted it. Her sister had been right. She'd been right about everything and it tore through her like a hurricane.
How she wanted to be Andromeda instead of a Black. How she'd give anything to not be Narcissa, but be any other child, because that meant she could have love and affection, not duty and tradition.
Narcissa let out a whimper as the kiss deepened, her tears spilling onto her robes. Pulling away, she looked at Florence. "No matter what," she vowed, "you're my forever."
"But you'll still marry him," Florence said, her own tears leaking down her cheeks.
Narcissa turned away, leaving Florence there in the astronomy tower, unable to face it anymore.
The regret, the shame, the anger, the hate, the desire; she couldn't look at it as it festered up inside of her, rotting her from within.
Her regrets collected up in her box. Letters she never sent to Florence, letters she never sent to her sister, the picture of her sister's child – a baby with ever changing hair, a rare gem, a diamond! They all sat there, hidden away from prying eyes.
She had gotten pregnant, miscarried a few times, and then finally, she had one healthy baby boy. He looked like his father, acted like his father, but clung to his mother. Narcissa adored her son, the one other thing she ever loved.
Sure, she liked Lucius, but could never love him. She could never give him her heart for it belonged to someone else. A someone who she saw in the Prophet the morning of September 9, 1989 had died. A death eater attack, her entire family killed in an ambush. Florence was dead, and she closed her eyes, tears clawing at her eyes.
Her husband and son joined her at the table, both asking her what was wrong, and when she opened her eyes, they were free of tears. Black's had mastered the art of hiding pesky emotions.
She denied there being anything wrong, and that night, as she went to bed, she put the paper at the bottom of the box.
Another regret.
That's all it was.
That's all it could be.