Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
A/N: This is the first chapter of these drabbles. They're about all of the Black Sisters, I'm planning on doing them until I reach 1998 or perhaps 2000.
Enjoy!
)O(
1957
An old mahogany grand-father clock stands in the corner of the richly-coloured room. Its face is enclosed in a thin circle of gold, with little snakes entwined together.
Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
A small girl sits cross-legged on the floor in front of it; her green silk dress spread out around her and her large eyes watching the hand that indicates the seconds go round and round the face of the clock. A single hot teardrop rolls down her youthful face while she continues to watch the clock, transfixed.
The noise has always scared Bellatrix Black a little. She hears that noise and thinks of how quickly the time in her life goes by. She hears that noise and the following night she'll have nightmares where she is the hand of the clock; continuously following the same pattern. Trapped. She'll wake up silently crying and having to remind herself of what her parents would do if they saw her to make herself stop.
Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
She does not understand why she keeps coming to watch it. She feels as if she is under that curse: the curse they call Unforgivable, the curse that is illegal–
Struggling to remember the name, she scrunches up her eyes.
The Imperius Curse.
Yes, she's put under that curse by the clock, and she's got no way of stopping it. She's got no way of bringing the act to a halt.
"Bellatrix, hurry up; when we come back from your Aunt Walburga's you'll have plenty of time to look at the thing," her misunderstanding mother's voice snaps from the bottom of the stairs outside the room Bellatrix sits in.
No, Mama, Bellatrix thinks. I've got no time at all. Not really.
)O(
1960
They're running. They're running together, occasionally breaking into a skip. They're running in circles in that abandoned little corn field next to their Manor where the grass is taller than any of them and they have to clutch hands so they don't lose each other. They're running in the sunset, where the orange glow puts the entire field in a spotlight.
The sun's rays give Narcissa's golden curls an angel-like glow. The sun's rays highlight the blonde tints in Andromeda's waves. The sun's rays give Bellatrix's onyx eyes an eerie glint.
The moment is one of complete freedom, but it lasts for only a few moments before the girls' father is yelling at them to get back to the Manor.
It is a moment that means nothing, yet everything. It is a moment none of them ever forget.
)O(
1960
The entire Black family sits down at a long dining table. With straight backs, the three sisters are next to each other in formal matching dresses – Bellatrix in blue, Andromeda in mauve and Narcissa in lilac. There is also a boy, a year or so old and he sits next to stern looking parents, whose faces are lined.
"Have you heard about this… 'Lord Voldemort'?" the childrens' Grandfather Pollux asks.
The name runs through the room without a single wince or narrow of the eyes. Something that changes in several years.
"Yes. He's being foolish. Too drastic. Word has it he's going to ask us to join him, soon. I won't say no, but I won't say yes, either. I'm not going to help a man who's probably only going to be around another year or so. I've heard of his plans but I doubt he'll accomplish them." Walburga says, her voice stern and controlling. Sipping from her goblet of elf-made wine, she starts coughing, trying to muffle the sound with a handkerchief.
"I told you you shouldn't have started smoking, Walburga," Orion mutters, snapping his fingers for an elf to help his wife. "It only makes your chest worse."
"Be quiet," Walburga chuckles, "things like these do not affect us Blacks."
None of the children pay any attention to the woman's comment apart from Bellatrix. Her head tilts slightly upwards, her eyes come into contact with her aunt's and she blinks.
Things like these do not affect us Blacks.
)O(
1961
Hands are clutching at her–hands that are old, hands that are tiny, hands that are frail, hands that are delicate, hands that are wrinkled, smooth, shaking, still, their fingernails sharp and pointed, filed and tidy, jagged and uncared for, and some–
Some of the hands are all bone and the nails non-existent.
Andromeda wakes up, screaming, before Bellatrix is there, stroking Meda's hair and her face and lying next to her, wrapping arms around her body, embracing her with that odd scent she carries that everyone seems to love but know it's not quite normal.
"They're coming for us–he's coming for us," Andromeda whispers, her voice hysterical and unnaturally mature for such a young age.
"I know," Bellatrix murmurs back, her voice hushed and smoothing, "but we can't stop him. I've read about him and he's more powerful than anyone gives him credit for; there are rumours of the history between him and Dumbledore so I can't think of which one is the most skilled. He could come for us and kill us all before we had the–"
She stops in mid-sentence when she sees the terrified look on her sister's face, the tears soaking into the pillow.
"Sorry."
)O(
1962
Appearing on Platform 9 and ¾, Narcissa lets a moment of weakness escape her.
She clutches to Bellatrix, a mixture of raven black and blonde curls hiding both the sisters' faces. Bellatrix crouches down so she is level with Narcissa, and kisses her on the forehead.
"You've still got Andromeda, Cissa."
"She doesn't like me," Narcissa mutters, sniffing.
"Don't be stupid," Bellatrix laughs, "we're sisters; of course Andy likes you! She loves you!"
The word 'stupid' hurts Narcissa, but she hides it. "Not like you do."
A pause where Bellatrix smiles slightly sadly. "Maybe that's for the best, Cissa."
)O(
1964
She's walking through the fifth-floor corridor with Rodolphus Lestrange, the one person who can seem to protect her at Hogwarts from the insults that are thrown at her.
She doesn't normally care about the teasing and bullying that happens to her, because none of these people matter. Not in her world.
"Oi, Black! Heard you had a little breakdown in Charms, yesterday! Has that mental problem of yours finally reached to the point you can't even keep up your little pureblood Queen façade?"
The comment of her questionable sanity is not what makes her spin around, snarling.
It's the fact that the Gryffindor who stands in front of her seems to think her status in the pureblood community is a lie.
Even Rodolphus draws his wand.
"I'm worth more than you'll ever be, Mudblood. You can walk about thinking that everyone will accept you, but have you not even heard about the Dark Lord? Haven't you even thought about the fact that some of the people you decide to talk to when you aren't even worth their time will one day be standing by the Dark Lord as they rip your precious little world into shreds?"
The corridor is silent.
"I didn't think so."
)O(
1965
My Dear Cissy,
I know it's hardly easy without Andromeda or I there with you, but please; act strong. Keep your chin up. Stand tall. Even at a young age, your attitude matters. Mother says Walburga's been spreading a rumour about you–that you're turning weak. I wouldn't pay attention to the old hag but because she's achieved having two heirs, she's turned spiteful. I wouldn't put it past her to say you're turning into Andromeda.
About Andromeda. She's been talking to the wrong people. Mudbloods, half-blood's, blood traitors. Of course, she's involved with Purebloods, too, but there are only a couple she can stand. Well, there are only a couple I can stand, but I act as if I can stand all the other ones to their faces. Andy shows she's not bothered in the slightest about them.
It's awful.
She's only 13 and yet I'm so scared she's going to betray us. In our Pureblooded society, there are few people I truly like, and of course Andy is one of them. But if she runs away in future years then… We cut off all communication with her and I do not see how either of us will be able to achieve that.
I know I should not worry. But the younger years are some of the most important. That's why you have to act independent. Because otherwise you'll be ripped to shreds by the women and men in the world who do not understand.
Few understand.
So; that is why it is so important for you to convince yourself as if you have never had a sibling to miss when others are around to judge.
I'm sorry.
All my love,
Bella
An old grand-father clock stands in the corner of the room.
Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
This time, it is Narcissa who sits in front of it. She is shedding tears from the letter and she is frowning as the hand goes back and forth between 5 and 6 minutes past 11. The word that comes to mind reminds her of exactly how she feels without Bella or Andy here beside her, scolding her because if something scares Bella, it should scare everyone else, as well.
Broken.
It flitters through her head like a baby bird that has just learnt to fly. It is not as graceful as it one day will be. It makes slightly jerky movements as it flaps its wings.
But it flies out of her brain, in the end, because, well: it can't stay in the same spot forever. And Bella has told her that she must not let it if it could.
)O(
1966
The scarlet steam engine is standing there when the Black family stands on the platform. Narcissa's been here before, of course, but for once the platform is hers. She's the one boarding the train for the first time and she is the one who will be away from her parents for a whole term for the first time in her life.
And she can't wait.
Away from her Mother's constant nagging that she's such a pretty girl with so much potential but she needs to take more care with her presentation and can they go dress shopping? It's been a while and little Cissy's grown a few inches and her clothes are too short and the sleeves look daft and now she's developing breasts and curves–
She breaths in the air that is hardly fresh and calms herself.
Yes. It'll do her some good to get away from her parents.
)O(
1967
Andromeda grins at Ted Tonks, a Muggleborn Hufflepuff with a kind nature that she can not help but adore. He is the one person in the whole school–the whole world–she can open up to–she can't open up to her sisters anymore because if they knew what was going on in her head they'd be heartbroken and furious is not even the word to describe how angry they'd be.
"Who're you smiling at?" Cissa squeals, always assuming it's a boy. "Where are they?" And she sneers as she sees Ted. "Oh, Andy, that Mudblood thinks you're smiling at him," she laughs. "Pathetic."
Struggling to keep her grin on her face, Andromeda turns around and walks away, holding hands with her younger sister and lacing their fingers together.
"Pathetic," she mutters.
)O(
1968
"Cygnus, it is not a matter of her sex, it's a matter of how capable she'd be as a Death Eater! I realise it will be difficult for her to handle with her N.E.W.T.s coming up, but she could go far. I would like to start training her as soon as possible. She has talent and a good blood line–"
At the word good, Cygnus raises his eyebrows.
"An almost flawless blood line," Lord Voldemort sighs, his eyes looking at the ceiling. Even trying to convince a supporter is difficult and his eyes flash a brighter red at the disrespect.
"I see your point, My Lord," Cygnus murmurs, "but surely Bellatrix will not be an acceptable protégée as the fact remains she is a girl."
"Do not disagree with me!" Voldemort snaps. "I will find a way to have your daughter as a Death Eater and you can not stop me. No one can."
)O(
1969
"Bella, come to Hogsmeade with us."
"Can't you spend more time with us? It's your last year."
"Please, Bella, come outside to the river for a bit?"
Her sisters are always asking requests of her, and she is irritated they can not realise she has countless amounts of homework to do and she has to revise otherwise she'll fail her N.E. . And she wants to tell them she trains with the Dark Lord, but she swore she wouldn't and so she keeps it to herself.
"I don't have any time."
"And what comes in my last year? Exams."
"I'll be too distracted. I might come down later."
Her replies are short and snappy and the reactions from Andromeda and Narcissa are always the same.
A sigh.
"Okay."
)O(
1970
She's finally free from the place that allows disgraces to Wizardkind to enter into its grounds. Hogwarts is beautiful in an odd way and she half loves it, but she is more than glad to know she does not have any reason to return here ever again and come face-to-face with people who do not have the right to talk to her.
"Well done, Miss Black," Albus Dumbledore says as he shakes hands with her and he looks her in the eye with sadness because somehow he knows she's with Voldemort now and he always–and he does not know why–had some hope for her.
"Thank you, Professor."