FINALLY, chapter four! -wipes brow- why, that took time. But it's done – and I believe it's the longest of this part yet. 4900 words exactly, woohoo =)
This will also be an entry for Lady Eleanor Boleyn's Births, Marriages and Deaths. As will soon become obvious, it's a marriage. Bella's ;)
Named after the XX's song. Took out the lyrics because copyright rules. Check out the song!
The room was bustling with women of various ages, all talking in hushed, distinguished whispers as they flocked around the queen of the day. Narcissa took the time to rearrange her emerald gown, smoothing over the front carefully and pulling lightly on her gloves. Then she turned around, brushing back a strand of her loose hair.
Bellatrix stood at the centre of the room and looked very much like she wanted to claw at a few of the ladies surrounding her and smothering her with comments and advice – unless she would rather pick a victim from her cluster of lilac-dressed bridesmaids. Cissy winced inwardly as she watched Lavinia Lestrange fuss over her daughter-in-law-to-be, all snarky remarks and brisk gestures. Bella shrugged her off rather roughly, and then Druella appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and entwined her own arm with which of the other happy mother, commenting over the dress with a tone of serene satisfaction. Narcissa exhaled a quiet sigh of relief.
Time was slipping by, bringing them nearer and nearer to the moment – the one that made Bella's face whiten and Cissy's heart clench. The rooms were ready, the dresses were on and the guests had arrived. There was nothing left that required preparing: nothing but beauty and anticipation, and… nerves, frayed and stretched tight, nearly to their breaking point, shuddering with the strain. After the ladies of the extended family, first, had exited the room, Druella expertly handled the six bridesmaids, ushering them out as well. Bella's scowl deepened a little more still: she had never wished to be surrounded by so many gushing girls, and doubtlessly there was nobody in the group but Cissy that she even remotely liked. Such were the ways of society, though Narcissa could, to some extent, understand her sister's dismay. Ever since she had left school and had her engagement secured, Bellatrix had seemed to enjoy a relative freedom that was well suited to her character, but in her own wedding she had had little say, and the sheer prospect of it seemed to frighten her to an unsettling degree.
Lavinia Lestrange walked out as well, at long last, and there were only the Black women left: the mother and sister of the bride, to support and assist her. Narcissa fought back the feeling of absence that threatened to overwhelm her. Instead, she focused on watching her eldest – her only – sibling, standing there in her princess' dress, looking paralyzed. Druella walked up to her, arranging the last details, a bit uselessly, just for something to do; and then she caressed Bellatrix's cheek, once, and left the sisters together wordlessly.
"You look amazing," Narcissa spoke. Bellatrix was shaking. Her gaze leapt from mirror to dress to sister to door, and back again, never seeming to settle on anything that could appease her. Her hand subconsciously started fingering her veil, then pulling quietly at it, and Cissy stepped forward, wrapping her dainty digits around her sister's wrist delicately.
"It's going to be all right, Bella," she promised. "It's normal to be scared. But it will be okay. You chose Rodolphus… You love him. He won't trap you or anything, the two of you are going to be happy."
Bella stared at her. "I love him…?" she uttered. "Cissy…"
Narcissa faltered, taken off guard. "Well," she breathed, rapidly wetting her dry lips, "maybe not… like a fairytale, but you've been with him for way over one year, and the pair of you seems to get along perfectly – you're always off with him somewhere! Even if… you may feel unsure, it's a good match, it really is! Isn't it?"
"I don't want to," Bellatrix said hoarsely, "I don't want to walk down that aisle and be his." She broke free from Narcissa's hold to start rubbing her arms anxiously. "I won't belong to him. I can't."
"Bella, you can't belong to a man anyway," Cissy pointed out, starting to feel rather worried. "You don't have to… it doesn't have to be that way with Rodolphus, right? What matters is the marriage. Then, the two of you will be free to lead your life as you may choose."
Bellatrix had a rather hollow laugh. "I suppose I can't," she muttered. "But… and…" She just shook her head, biting her lips hard.
Narcissa was feeling distinctively uncomfortable, as though something quite important were evading her. She brushed her concern aside, reminding herself that Bellatrix had never been delighted with the sheer concept of marriage. Only a fool would have been surprised by her rejection of the idea, added a vicious little voice within her mind.
"And just look at that dress," Bella hissed bitterly, and Cissy felt relieved. Now that was a complaint that didn't throw her in the slightest.
"It looks beautiful, Bella," she told her sister. "I know it is rather fancy, and heavy, but it's your wedding day… You look dashing, honestly."
"It is gold," Bellatrix growled. "White and gold – just look at it! And that veil, that ludicrous hairdo… I can scarcely move my head," she ranted. Narcissa allowed her to let off her steam. Bellatrix swallowed and went quiet, still rubbing her arms.
"It's almost time," Narcissa whispered, "father will be here soon."
Bella blinked, seemingly summoned back from some dark reverie. "You're going to be the last Black maiden," she murmured, "at New Year's ball… They'll all be out for your heart…" Something like a smile, or the twisted edge of it, touched her tense mouth. Cissy laughed it off, awkwardly thinking of Travers. "That's for sure," she agreed, or pretended to agree.
The door opened then, and they both turned towards their father in the threshold, holding out his hand. "Ready?" he enquired and Bellatrix shot back, "Not nearly."
Cygnus Black cracked a smile. "It is time, regardless," he spoke, and walked into the room, right to his eldest daughter, whose arm he firmly took. "Let us go," he whispered, and then added: "Shall you lead the way, Narcissa?"
Cissy found her feet, pushing the door open and slipping out, the rhythmic clicking sound of her heels seeming to echo with a weight she'd never pondered before. She walked through the empty corridors with her head held high, sensing her father and sister's presence behind her. Then she faced a pair of great wooden doors through which slight strings of notes were drifting. The great reception room at Lestrange Mansion, Bella's new home and crowds of guests waiting inside, sitting in appropriate expectation with their eyes wide open. Cissy mentally counted to three, tossed a glance over her shoulder – a glimpse into whiteness, the white dress and Bellatrix's white face as she stared back at her, irises gleaming black before the veil slid into place – and opened the double doors.
A low, polite murmur spread from the back rows all the way to the front, and a rustling of fabric serenaded its welcome into correct society as everybody slowly, refinedly pivoted to see the bride enter. Not too fast, screamed a voice in Narcissa's head while she led the way up the aisle, her eyes on the groom, tall and impressive as he stared right past her, and then the marriage officiant. After what felt like an endless span of time, Cissy could at last turn around with a little flourish of her skirts, standing in front of the neatly-lined bridesmaids, and join the still and the watchful.
Bellatrix looked like something out of a fairytale, slowly gliding her way forward while resting lightly on her father's arm. Ever since she was a little girl, Narcissa had been very aware of the eerieness that was a marriage – feeling it much more keenly than other children would have. She knew all about duties, responsibilities, social standards and alliances, she knew all of the tiny details that mattered oh-so-much and the fine art of decorating in all its subtleties, and this complex, rational web of concerns that shaped the reality of a wedding only made the enchantment stand out all the more – the perfection and the intensity of the moment, the way everything that had been planned and prepared down to the smallest details turned into something real and somehow appeared absolutely natural. Her sister's fears and reticences forgotten, she stood as a queen in her castle: the perfect setting of the ceremony and the bride in the middle, glowing white and pure. Cissy's throat was tight as Bellatrix reached them. Cygnus placed his daughter's dainty, gloved hand into Rodolphus', and stepped backwards to take his place in the front row. The officiant cleared his throat quietly.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he spoke, "we are gathered here today to unite two ancient bloodlines, in the person of these young souls…"
Narcissa allowed her eyelids to drift downwards, half-shut as she let the familiar words wash over her. The world looked scattered with gold through her long, fair lashes, sunny powder floating lazily. So many weddings she had attended – had it been that many? Or had the thrill of the planning made the events appear more frequent than they actually were, there being always a ceremony to prepare, months and months in advance? Regardless, it was the pureblood institution – the very same that, before her faraway gaze, turned Bellatrix Black into Madame Lestrange. The line carried on – traditions carried on, far greater than their beings, no matter what. Cissy swallowed.
"…then I declare you bonded for life."
It was snowing again: tiny, fluffy flakes drifted lazily towards the white-coated ground, a world of quietness. Cissy briefly took in the sight, forgetting the hustle and bustle at her back, all the matters that might require attending to. A winter wedding, dream-like and delicately iced over – this was the image she would keep. Slowly, she allowed the drape to fall back over the window's glass and turned around again, plastering a smile upon her features.
The first thing she saw was her sister where she stood a ways away, surrounded by dainty circles converging to congratulate. Vaguely aware that Bellatrix might be in dire need of some comfort or support so as to avoid blasting anybody's head off, Cissy crossed the room towards the happy couple. She slowed as she neared them, the sheer tension in the air sending a chill crawling down her spine. Bella whirled away from a pair of tiny ladies then, and Narcissa held her breath as Druella hastily appeared to avoid an altercation.
Rodolphus' hold seemed rough as he grabbed his wife's left arm before she could stalk away from him as well, unnecessarily, almost frighteningly rough around Bella's slim limb. Narcissa winced, the Lestranges' every move exuding something raw, dangerous that chilled her to the core – and she longed to walk up to them, to push them back into an acceptable position and shake some sense into Bella or maybe hug her hard, she didn't know. An unsettling hostility against Rodolphus stirred within her. It was his job to watch over Bellatrix now and make sure she didn't do anything overly stupid, and thus far he did not quite seem to be handling that massive task correctly.
Hypocrit, taunted her inner voice. She fought to shake off the uncertainty. Bella was a handful to love and to live with, anybody with an ounce of common sense would have seen that. She was the little sister. It wasn't her responsibility to look after her elders… She swallowed hard. It really wasn't.
Narcissa moved closer, forcing the worries into a corner of her mind. Bella had shaken her new husband's grip off. She glared daggers into his face as he spoke in low, harsh tones, clear blue eyes boring into her face.
"You will stop this, Bella," she heard as she neared them, "isn't this what you were longing for? To get a good look at our guests? Well, he's not there…"
She saw nothing but Bellatrix's dark eyes glaring over the groom's shoulder then, and she heard nothing but her sister's frantic hiss as she gestured – wildly – in her direction. Rodolphus pivoted and discovered her frozen there, numb and unsure. She watched as he cleared the storm from his tight mouth and the line of his eyebrows smoothly, but it raged true at the very bottom of his pale eyes, lurking underneath the clear, tricky waters. Narcissa endeavoured to compose herself so efficiently, and was not quite sure of the extent of her success. She was feeling dreadfully exposed – accused, an eavesdropper and an outsider.
"I was just…" she started, "I just wondered…". She stumbled for her words, longing to just turn around and disappear.
"Whether we would manage attending to our guests properly?" Rodolphus supplied. His voice was the same as she'd always heard it, low, pleasant and collected, but for the first time she had no idea how to place him. Family, they were family by now, she remembered.
"Yes," she croaked weakly.
"Well," he breathed, "if you can make sure my wife doesn't run off, I should be able to honour my responsibilities as groom." A hint of a smile stretched his thin lips.
Without awaiting a response he just strode past her, lost among the crowd the next second. Somewhere between anxiously wondering who else might have noticed something was off and warily assessing the tangle of unknown that was Rodolphus Lestrange, Narcissa looked at her sister and found her white-faced, staring blankly with vacant eyes.
"Bella?" she almost whimpered, loathing herself for how pitiful she sounded. This was a wedding, she reminded herself forcefully, this was a wedding and Bellatrix was just kicking up a fuss, reluctant as ever before the constraints of society – and the image of herself as a spouse. There was no place there for the unexpected and Rodolphus… well, she'd just seen Rodolphus irate. It wasn't like she knew him that well… And Bellatrix could have infuriated a saint. It was truly nothing surprising.
"Yes," her sister responded automatically, blinking as if emerging from a dream, or a nightmare. She stared at Narcissa, seeming half as though she expected something – and half as though she expected nothing at all.
"Your guests are awaiting," Cissy managed. She couldn't bring herself to ask – to ask anything. Later, she promised herself, knowing it'd be too late.
Bellatrix scowled. "I quite know that." Without warning, she walked past her as well, slipping away in a heartbeat. Narcissa crossed her arms over her chest and breathed slowly, deeply. The air flowed her lungs, heavy with expensive perfume and the scent of flowers. It made her feel dizzy.
Narcissa slipped through the crowd easily, providing smiles and a few pleasant words here and there as she went. Meeting her mother's eye across the room, she noted that Druella appeared quite satisfied, though her daughter could also tell that she remained tense still. People were slowly settling at their allotted places for dinner, after which there would be further celebrations, with dancing, until the night came to an end. Narcissa reached her own table, a few steps from where the bride and groom would take place, along with Cygnus, Rodolphus' father and his brother and best man, Rabastan. Two ladies were already sitting there, talking quietly. Cissy shook off a brief surge of paranoia as they halted their speech upon her arrival. She recognized Mrs Nott and Mrs Malfoy, and curtseyed gracefully before she took her seat.
"Hello, Narcissa," greeted Mrs Nott, and Mrs Malfoy echoed: "Miss Black," with a nod of her head.
"Mrs Nott – Mrs Malfoy," she responded politely. She knew Silvia Nott quite well since the woman was a close acquaintance of her mother's, but Circe Malfoy was close to a stranger, and as she looked upon her, she found the intense, slightly inquisitive look of her serious grey eyes to be slightly unsettling. Her attention was thankfully diverted by the arrival of Harmonia Greengrass, her mother's best friend and confidante – followed, to her dismay, by Alcyone Nott, all saccharine smiles and mocking glances.
As dinner was served, conversation flowed easily between the lot of them, all well-bred and proper, all pleasant company. The family of the bride was congratulated, the wedding's organization and setting were praised and the main one of the following social events, the New Year's ball that would be hosted at Black Manor and which Narcissa would attend as a debutante, was duly discussed. Then the topic switched to Hogwarts; all of them belonging or having belonged to the fair and noble house of Salazar Slytherin, they had many traditions or recollections to share. The younger girls' upcoming OWLs and their school results in general were also evoked. Although Alcyone's smug tone and attitude soon proved to be an inherited trait, the discussion remained agreeable; and Narcissa talked animatedly, paying only the minimal required attention to her dish. Once in a while she could feel Harmonia's eye on her, or Circe's; but it always quickly passed, and she smiled demurely, a picture of perfection.
They reached dessert, by which the conversation had drifted to Diagon Alley; and as Mrs Nott and Harmonia Greengrass leaned their heads together and Alcyone attempted to look witty, Narcissa stole a glance around the other tables while carefully cutting her portion of cake. Bella's mouth was tight, her cheeks tinted an angry red, though her father and husband seemed calm, deceptively so, Cissy assumed; and Druella was evidently watchful, despite the relaxed and pleasant façade she was keeping for her table's sake. As Narcissa's attention switched back to her own companions, stifling her unease beneath a smooth demeanour, she found Circe's eyes trained on her.
The woman leaned forward, a smile playing on her lips. "Enjoying the evening, Miss Black?"
"Oh, certainly," Narcissa responded with as much warmth as she could gather, "I've always loved weddings, and for it to be my own sister! It makes everything all the more delightful…"
Circe had a low chuckle. "I can imagine. Very beautiful bride we have here. Extremely beautiful." Mrs Malfoy's eyes were dancing with mirth, for a reason only she could presume to know.
Narcissa was at a lost for how to respond; the woman before her could not be called beautiful with any measure of honesty, yet she was certainly striking with charisma, and her conversation and intense, yet somehow derisive gazes were proving dangerously disconcerting. Cissy was beginning to see for herself why Lady Malfoy was as influent as slightly dreaded, and why everybody preferred and endeavoured to be in her good books. The woman's wit was sharp and she suspected it made quite a fine weapon – even when she did not put it to its full use, it always seemed that there would be some double meaning to her words that it would be most unfortunate to miss. Knowing that she hadn't even properly made her entrance into society and yet that Circe Malfoy's opinion of her would greatly depend on this one encounter, Narcissa fought the uncertainty off and mobilized her own quick brain and flawless manners.
"Indeed," she said with a candid smile, "it was quite a success. Though Hogwarts kept me from participating as much as I would have wished, planning such an important ceremony was still no easy task – and yet I never seem to get tired of it."
"And from what I can see, you hardly lack the talent to match this enthusiasm," Circe remarked politely. She gestured to Narcissa's plate. "This cake is sinfully delicious!" Nodding with a smile, she ate a small portion of her own helping, not taking her eyes off her companion.
Cissy felt colour flood her cheeks, an instinctive reaction. She lowered her eyes upon her plate and the carefully cut pieces of pastry, none of which she had actually touched. Stabbing a small slice, she raised it to her mouth and chewed carefully. "Down to the smallest details!" she approved with a little, off-sounding laugh.
She stole a glance at Alcyone, but the girl was thankfully too engrossed in drawing the ladies' attention to notice her schoolmate's dismay, let alone take advantage of it. Mrs Nott was listening to her offspring's vain rambles with glee, Harmonia with an entertained expression Narcissa fairly doubted was to be considered a compliment; at least she was not in any way close to ridiculing herself like that. She had drawn Circe's attention, and now she merely had to ensure the consequences would not be negative. She was Narcissa Black. She wasn't looking to become any lady's protégée, no matter how influential the woman might be.
"Ah, the details. So important," Circe was commenting, "when everybody is striving for perfection, the details are really what make all the difference…" She inclined her head, and Narcissa hummed her approval. The statement was really quite obvious, and yet its truth was a demanding, a dangerous one. Perfection allowed no rest, after all. For all of the flaws that could be found on Circe's face, she was perfection in her looks, artfully put together so they could appear sophisticated without displaying an excessive concern that might remind of a lack of natural beauty – and perfection in her personality more than anyone else Cissy had ever encountered, a finely-worked diamond that shone carefully polished, and yet rough somehow, in her notably unusual frankness. Mrs Malfoy was powerful enough so she didn't have to pretend, and subtle enough that one never actually knew what she thought – most importantly, she was unique among the countless ladies who sought nothing but to never show a fault. Narcissa admired and feared her; she found herself wishing she did not have to converse with her, but could remain quiet and observe without being observed in return.
Her wish was fulfilled and the whole room's attention converged once again as music filled the air, and the bride and groom rose to open the ball, twirling gracefully. Narcissa focused on the two of them dancing as though this one image of harmony could erase every flaw and every uncertainty the day had thrown into sharp light; but too soon other couples were surrounding them, stealing them from view, and then they broke apart as Lavinia claimed her eldest son and Bellatrix was handed over to Cygnus. The dancing had truly begun by then, and young bachelors stopped at their table to solicit the honour from Alcyone and Narcissa. The latter excused herself from Circe, who did not seem to be minding her any longer regardless, and let the music carry her as she spun away into warm arms. However, it must have been quite clear in everybody's mind that the youngest – the only remaining – Black maiden, though fifteen years old, was not a debutante yet, for the requests died down after a few waltzes of courtesy. Cissy was left to wander the room and make small talk pleasantly and elegantly, as was the duty of the maid of honour and sister of the bride.
Narcissa daintily sipped on a cocktail she had been handed by a passing house-elf. The creature must have been quite perturbed by the strenuous task of navigating through the talkers and the dancers without colliding into anybody, having been Disillusioned as was proper for such occasions, so as to avoid bothering the guests with the sheer sight of its lowly being; indeed, the liquor it had delivered to her was much too strong for a girl her age. However, Narcissa didn't care to complain – the liquid warmed her as it slid smoothly down her throat, relaxed her taut nerves and eased her frustration at being left aside as though she were common or ugly, just because her first official ball was still a few days away. Giggling lightly and politely at something Mr Nott had just said, she then excused herself from yet another group and sauntered away, boredom assaulting her, with the occasional spark of jealousy whenever she spotted Alcyone smirking at her from the arms of a partner or another. Biting her lips to prevent a scowl, she turned around slowly, her gaze drifting across the space.
She froze as she caught sight of a smaller silhouette that was poised at the very edge of the room, watching, like her, the twirling couples and the little bunches of people making conversation with a dark expression on his face. Sirius ought not to be there at all – he should have remained in the room that was allotted to the children, after the ceremony! If Walburga spotted him, it was likely to cause a scene. Narcissa set out quietly to approach her cousin, without drawing any unnecessary attention to herself. However, she certainly drew her target's attention; the young boy scowled at her, and then turned away and disappeared into the next room.
As long as he was away from any eye that could be offended by his utter disregard of proper behaviour, it was safe – yet as long as he wasn't under any eye that could potentially restrain him if needed… The danger was real, the dilemma serious; although Narcissa debated within herself, she already knew that she wouldn't allow this opportunity to escape to slip past her. Clutching her glass, she edged away, glancing nervously around before finally fleeing into the corridor.
She breathed then, the noise of the party a faraway, distorted reality behind her; pressure slipped from her shoulders, and a few seconds were required for her to remember about Sirius. She paced the hallways looking for him, her heart beating fast with the fear of being caught wandering without permission on another's property; she found no sight of him, and eventually intuition guided her to the great double doors at the entrance of the mansion. Cursing her cousin, she pushed them warily.
He was there indeed, sitting on the steps and watching the snow-coated ground morosely. Narcissa nearly retreated as she hardly saw any mischief he could possibly come up with here – and also as the bitter cold made her stagger, being, unlike Sirius, clothed with a dainty little dress; but something held her back, and eventually she stepped towards the boy, advancing slowly. He did not bulge at the soft clicking sound of her heels. She sat down, shivering as the coldness from the marble steps seeped into her, chilling her to the core. Hastily, she gulped a sip of her cocktail and dimly thought that the alcohol certainly made her more reckless.
"I hate it here," Sirius spoke darkly, cutting into her reflections. She shuddered a little, utterly thrown off guard, and peered at her young cousin from above her glass. The harsh bitterness of his tone was nothing she'd heard before; she had always considered Sirius as a big-mouthed, cheerful little troublemaker, always doing his very best to draw attention to himself, escape his mother's slightly tyrannical nature and on the whole do everything he wanted, regardless of rules and propriety. For the Sirius she knew – from a distance – boredom meant nothing but a challenge, a challenge he would take up in the most colourful way he could think of, making an utter nuisance of himself whenever that was humanly possible. This was the way Sirius was. One grew used to it eventually.
"Well, the evening's almost over," she murmured unhelpfully. That wasn't quite true, but she could not for the life of her think of anything better to say.
"Liar," he hissed. "And I'll still be sick of it. Even after the stupid wedding. I want to go to Hogwarts."
Ah. Sirius wanted something he could not get right away – that she could understand. Stunningly enough, it was actually a wish she had shared with her cousin. "Eight months left to wait," she said cheerfully, though she was aware the remark might only aggravate him further.
He stared at her disgustedly. "Are you that stupid or are you trying to choke your own brain cells to death?" he snapped. "I want to go away now! I'm sick of them. I'm sick of it all. And I want to see her."
Through the alcohol it took Cissy a few seconds to figure out that there was only one her Sirius would have stressed with such adamant despair. She blinked in shock. Somehow she had been too busy with her own feelings to realize that Sirius would also miss… her. She halted her thoughts right there. It was over, and no childish tantrum could mend that, fix what had been broken forever.
She opened her mouth to say "She's gone," yet the words did not pass her lips. Sirius was glaring straight forward, jaw rigid and searing eyes; and Narcissa shivered once more in the bitter cold, a pained sigh escaping her. Part of her would have liked to rebel too, if only it could have granted her the sweet delusion of hope. But she knew better. There was no escaping their duties – no alternative but to lose everything.
She didn't want to lose everything. She didn't want to lose her unbearable cousin, Narcissa thought dimly as her fingers, numb from the cold, reached out and squeezed his wrist.
"We love you too, you know," she uttered.
Sirius laughed cruelly, derisively. "See if I care," he spat, willing to wound.
Cissy leaned her head against his slight shoulder, feeling him tense up at her touch. She didn't apologize, just stared up into the stars – and he did the same wordlessly.