Blonde
Summary:5 reasons for Narcissa Malfoy's distinctive coloring. Gen.
Disclaimer:The characters are owned by their copyright holder. (Not me.)
Purebloods are notoriously gossipy, and their scarcity means that secrets generally don't stay that way for long. So it is a remarkably well hidden fact that Druella Black née Rosier had an affair with her cousin Tiberius Malfoy after she had her first two daughters. When Narcissa found out, after her marriage, she was surprised, but not that shocked. It was not entirely unheard of, after all, and anyway, it would explain Draco's extra toe.
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When Andromeda's child was born, news of her deformity spread just as fast. Lucius had smiled, saying, "This just proves what we have been saying all along. We cannot mix with Mudbloods. The children become tainted." Narcissa had smiled and said Of course.
Peering over into the bedroom mirror, Narcissa wills her eyes a deeper shade of violet. And is profoundly grateful that the Wizarding World is apparently incapable of any logical deductions.
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The Blacks are not known for their excessive loyalty to their blood. But Druella is not a Black, merely married into the family. So when a group of Aurors ruthlessly murders her favorite cousin and his wife, she gladly adopts their orphaned daughter as her own. Such a shame, really, though, that the name had already been chosen. But Druella is rather tired of Blacks, and their Gryffindor tendencies. She thinks she can teach
this one to be a Rosier.
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The Dark Arts are difficult, even when one is an exceptionally talented twelve-year-old with access to your father's library. But Bellatrix knows that she is better at magic than Lucius or Theodore and they are thirteen. So, she points her wand at Andromeda's dolls and makes it wave its little hand. Not good enough. She tries with all her might, and the entire arm moves, and she thinks that she is making a good start on the other one, when Narcissa barges in. She drops her concentration, and the doll drops as well. She poises herself to yell at her sister. Then she looks at pretty blonde doll and at Narcissa's dark curls. She grins. Yes, that would be perfect.
----
Bellatrix is leaning against the bathroom sink, rubbing a potion through her hair. When Narcissa comes in, she doesn't look at her, just nods to acknowledge her presence, and continues. She is dying her blonde hair black, but Narcissa has lived through the period where Bellatrix got tattoos and earrings in unlikely places, so she really isn't shocked at anything anymore, and hardly ever feels the sharp bite of envy at the things that Bellatrix is allowed to do and Narcissa apparently isn't. Narcissa looks at Bellatrix's reflection, and thinks she knows why Bellatrix is doing it—the image looks sharper, older the heavy lids of the Blacks made more prominent, the soft curves of her cheek receding. She spreads her fingers wide on the kitchen sink and says, "Are you sure that it should be working so quickly?"
Bellatrix looks at her sharply. "What did you do, Cissy?", her voice deceptively calm and even sounding.
"I might have put a permane—"
The words don't make it out of her mouth before Bellatrix leaps to her feet and aims a red bolt at her head. She laughs, dodging, and runs out of the room before Bellatrix can destroy her in a fit of temper.
