Chapter 7
"Thought I'd find you here." Andy said softly from the door.
Narcissa almost fell from her chair. "Andromeda! Do not scare me like that! I could've hexed you!"
Andy gave her little sister an arrogant lopsided smile as she walked towards where she was in front of the large window. "And I could've blocked you."
"You keep telling yourself that, 'Dromeda." Narcissa scoffed with good humour as she sat up straight, making room for her sister to sit next to her on the malachite camelback sofa.
"What are you looking for tonight?" Andy asked her, taking a peek into the lavish brass telescope that stood in front of them as she sat down. "Ah..." Andy sighed sadly recognising the constellation.
"I'm sorry-" Narcissa began, her cheeks flushing from shame.
"No, no," Andromeda reassured the younger witch. "Don't worry - you have every right to miss her. Hades, sometimes I can't stop myself from missing her too."
"It feels... wrong, to miss her." Narcissa confessed. "But I really do. I miss our sister, and it feels wrong. That's not something anyone should feel wrong about... but I do - and still, I miss her."
"She chose to go into that darkness, Cissy." Andy replied kindly. "I can already see the guilt in your eyes - this was on her. It was her choice. There was nothing you could've done to save her."
"There was so much I could've done." Narcissa whispered softly. "You see, Bella... Bella in her madness prayed for storms, dreaming that those storms would bring her peace. I should've... I should've done so much more. Family is supposed to be everything, after all."
"So your plan is to atone by staring at the stars?" Andy asked gently, leaning into the chair as she watched all the delicately drawn astronomical movements dancing on the walls and ceilings.
"It's a start." Narcissa replied tersely, unable to suppress the little smile that pulled on her lips; both witches chuckled quietly. Narcissa took her older sister's hand into her own and sighed contently. "I remember crying over you, you know." She said as she turned to look into her older sister's dark eyes. "And I don't mean a couple of tears and being blue. I'm talking about collapsing and screaming at the moon."
"Oh Cissa..." Andy said gently, pulling her proud sister into her arms. "We're okay now."
"Why did it take us this long?" Narcissa asked quietly.
Andromeda frowned... "I'm not quite sure anymore. I guess we both got wrapped up in our own worlds. Our own wars."
Narcissa laughed hollowly. "That sounds like us." The younger witch then reluctantly pulled back from her sister, remembering at last that it wasn't normal for Andy to casually join her in late night astronomy sessions anymore. "What can I do for you, 'Dromeda?"
"You can start by lifting that curse you set on my house." Andy said admonishingly.
"Oh, yes... that. I had almost forgotten." Narcissa said with a small, innocent, je ne sai quoi shrug of the shoulders. "I'll pop by first thing in the morning."
"That'll do for one night then." The older witch said yawning. "I better be back."
"But you just got here." Narcissa said indignantly, and Andromeda couldn't help but break out smiling - her sister sounded exactly the way she remembered when they were kids and it was time for her and Bella to go back to Hogwarts.
"And it's one o'clock in the morning, Cissy." Andy said standing up. "I thought I'd pop by because I couldn't get to sleep and I saw it was a clear night so I imagined you'd be up too. But it's late and we should both go to bed."
"Always the responsible one." Narcissa muttered under her breath.
"Someone's got to be sensible around here." Andy bit back full of mirth as she headed to the door. "Cissy..."
"Hmm?"
"Hermione..." the older witch started, playing with the knob nervously.
"What about her, 'Dro?" Narcissa asked casually.
"She's a special one, that one."
"I know." Narcissa replied without hesitation.
"Look out for her, won't you?" Andy asked her sister.
Narcissa understood the responsibility her sister was giving her. She didn't reply right away, hesitating in a way she rarely did, for Narcissa knew there was much to be said, but was confined in that moment to saying only a little. At last she nodded to Andromeda, "she's in safe hands, 'Dro."
"Good. Get some sleep then, Cissy." Andy said, opening the door. "Merlin knows I need it."
Narcissa watched her older sister close the door, leaving her alone again. Her sisters had the bad habit of running off, away from her and into the midst of the battle; leaving her unable to pick between them; leaving her stationary, waiting for them to come back to her - family is everything, after all; she thought sarcastically to herself.
But now... now she had to keep an eye out for the Granger girl. She remembered leading the muggleborn and her little band of misfits into Malfoy Manor when the snatchers had caught them. They had been just a bunch of kids trembling with terror; that included her Draco. With much shame she remembered how she had blurted out that she recognised the girl, fear pushing her to ask Draco to confirm. The muggleborn's deep brown eyes had bored into hers as they shed reluctant tears and the whole scene broke down into chaos - her husband fighting Bella over who called the Dark Lord; the Snatchers squabbling over gold; her sister screeching about swords and banks... her sister - all prodigious skill and no conscience.
And then... the screaming.
Some of her nights were still haunted by those screams, all terrible and drawn out and nauseating as they mixed with her sisters' voice. As Narcissa had watched her sister draw wand and blade against the Granger girl, she had had a crystal clear view of how broken beyond repair her family had become. The girl writhing with agony on her carpet was just a girl - how had things gotten this far? How had she and Lucius sunken this low, why had they dragged Draco down with them, and Bella - when had she lost her soul? She remembered how she almost threw up when her sister, her kind, brave, over-protective sister had given the muggleborn away to Greyback.
After that she just remembered the chandelier breaking and dragging Draco away from harm and seeing Dobby, and then her sister asking her to kill Dobby, but how was she going to kill Dobby? Dobby had been there when she'd married Lucius, taking care of her every time things got out of hand - they had both gone through it together; only Dobby had been the one who managed to get away. In those last few moments she managed to send the little house elf a look of gratitude when he disarmed her, knowing she would have been unable to live with herself if she did him any harm.
Then the Dark Lord arrived and everything became muddy with agony, the only thing she could see through the tears being those scared, brown eyes begging her for mercy. The same brown eyes that now looked at her inquisitively with compassion and curiosity. There was something about the Granger girl, well, she definitely wasn't a girl anymore; but there was still something about her that felt just like home.
Narcissa felt... comfortable around her, she decided. Maybe a bit too comfortable. The muggleborn had a knack for saying the right thing that got Narcissa to drop her mask and speak frankly. It was refreshing, but the older witch was still hesitant - there was only one possible outcome to this situation; someone would get hurt.
When had she become such a cynic? She asked herself sarcastically. Maybe 'Dromeda was right and she should go to bed before she started spouting verses of metaphysical poetry.
As Narcissa absently went through her nightly routine her mind floated back to the Oracle and the letter they had sent her the other day. After spending most of her meeting with the Ladies of Charity inconspicuously translating the ancient greek (the Oracle of Delphi was terribly traditional) instead of listening to what new social issue those ladies of high society wanted to focus on this season, she had managed to fairly accurately translate the message the priestess had sent her:
"Once lions learn to rest in snakes' lairs, light all the lanterns! - shine them bright on all Black. When fighting for the sacred, the snake cannot apologise for its poison, just like the lion cannot apologise for its bite. Seek not permission for peace, settle not for the jejune. Plunge, plunge, plunge!"
Narcissa had noted it was very on the verbose side for the priestess, she would have to send a generous offering to the Sanctuary; maybe a statue, the Black family hadn't donated a statue in quite a few centuries, maybe it was time. This was one of the oldest responsibilities of being part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight - to receive oracles and make offerings. Approximately every decade, or before a serious upheaval of events, the head of each family would receive a personalised oracle in its typical, grandiose, if not occasionally cringe-worthy language. Trying to decrypt the babbles, despite their seemingly obvious symbology, well... that was an entirely different matter.
As Narcissa closed her eyes, the priestess' words lulled in her mind... plunge, plunge, plunge!
When will this man stop speaking? Narcissa asked herself furiously. Miss Granger was soon to arrive to Black Fortress and the conference on post-war economics was overrunning.
"In conclusion," the bald, wheezy man at last spluttered to Narcissa's relief, "our purchases reflect, deep ineradicable emotional needs, most prominently the assertion of self-identity." Narcissa eyed her pocket-watch; 20 minutes overrun, this was quite frankly rude. "We are highly social animals," the pureblood raised an offended eyebrow - there was only one animal in the room, and that was the animal who was overstepping his time, "and a lot of our spending is governed by its anticipated effect on our relationships. It is my argument that businesses make money not, primarily, by conjuring up false desires, but by identifying and satisfying real ones. Thank you very much."
Narcissa suppressed the sigh of relief that bubbled in her as she clapped politely along with the audience and with barely contained impatience she tried making her way out of the hall.
"Narcissa!" Called out a familiar voice.
Closing her eyes to regain her composure she took a deep breath, plastered a huge smile on her face and turned to face the alarmingly overweight and slightly terrifying heiress of the Bulstrode family. "Violetta! What a pleasure. Don't you think it was a terribly insightful conference?" Narcissa asked trying to get all the pedantic pleasantries over with as quickly as possible.
"Quite so. The old gang has a table reserved at the Phoenix Platters. Do tell me you'll come - we're all dying to hear what you make of this." Violetta said enthusiastically, her large diamond earrings bobbing along precariously with her head movements.
"I'm afraid I can't." Narcissa said, almost surprised by how sincerely apologetic she sounded, even to herself. "Tell the boys it'll have to be another night. Oh, and don't order that Louis Roederer Millesime champagne," Narcissa said leaning into the other witch, "between you and me, that rosé is not worth the bottle it's corked in."
"Oh Cissy, this is why we need you!" Violetta complained dramatically.
"Another day, Vi!" Narcissa said, winking cheekily at the witch as she hurried to the exit, not letting her respond. They were going to hold this one against her, she concluded.
There would be no escaping the old gang next time unless she wanted them to start asking what she was up to and that was simply not an option.
Narcissa made her way down the gilded hall, uninterested in all the gauche decoration. Once she pushed open the door that led to the cold London street, she quickly glanced side-ways to double check there weren't any stray muggles, and with a faint pop, apparated home.
"Miss Granger, you must forgive me - it seems I'm developing the bad habit of arriving late to my own invitations."
"Hermione - call me Hermione." The younger witch said warmly as she looked up at her, amusement playing on her features as she rested her head on her hand. "And it's no worry, I know you have a busy schedule. Plus, these have kept me company." She said nodding towards the large pile of books in front of her.
"Thank you for your understanding... Hermione." The pureblood experimented with the new syllables, savouring each one as the rolled by her tongue. "And call me Narcissa. But what have you been up to?" She asked curiously, sitting next to the younger witch and taking a look at the books she spread out on the table. The fire was roaring, and when she turned, a steaming cup of tea had appeared on the coffee table. As Hermione gathered her thoughts and notes, Narcissa couldn't help but marvel at how blissful this was.
"I've been trying to categorise the mental, physical and magical and their properties into substances and essences and features but I think I've muddled it a bit." Hermione said, passing Narcissa a parchment with crossed out charts.
"Substances have ontological independence - they can exist in their own right; they do not depend on another entity in order to exist." Narcissa muttered as she grabbed a quill and inked it. "Mental properties are not the same as physical properties, just as neither of those are the same as magical ones."
"Yeah, yeah, like you said in your paper - there is a correlation between them, but not a necessity." Hermione said pulling out a black leather bound notebook and flicked to the right page.
"Exactly," Narcissa said approvingly. "However, an essence is the set of attributes that make a substance what it fundamentally is. Without its essence, a substance loses it's identity. Magic, alas, is not an essence - that's why it can live on after it has been cast, independently of its caster." Narcissa handed Hermione the corrected paper.
"So the mind's essence is logical reasoning," Hermione confirmed, admiring the pureblood's exquisitely elegant handwriting. "The essence of material things, is extension; and the essence of magic is... emotion?"
"Why do you think wands have personalities?" Narcissa said flashing the younger witch a smile. Hermione smiled back, but winced.
"That concealment charm might do wonders for hiding a bruise, Hermione, but it won't actually help with it." Narcissa said kindly, her tone implying no judgement.
"How-?"
"I've lived my entire life surrounded by temperamental people." Narcissa said as she stood up in the search for something. "I've cast so many I can spot that charm from across the room."
"I just fell." Hermione supplied, suddenly feeling the need to justify herself.
"Okay." Narcissa replied, unable to keep some of the disbelief from her voice.
"I sometimes have trouble sleeping," Hermione quickly added. "I make my own sleeping potions but I think I let this batch strengthen too long - one sip and I crashed face forward."
"Well lets see the damage." Narcissa said softly as she sat back down on her chair but Hermione seemed hesitant. "I promise I'll have seen worse." The older witch said with a small smile. Hermione huffed in resignation and turned her head so the pureblood could have access to her left side. Amused that Hermione refused to un-cast the spell herself, Narcissa touched Hermione's cheek with feather-light weight in order to feel where the magic ran. Slowly, Narcissa's fingers ran from Hermione's temple down her smooth cheek, leaving tingles on their route; satisfied she wasn't about to banish half of Hermione's face she dispelled the charm with a flick of her wrist. "That looks sore." Narcissa drawled sarcastically. Despite herself, Hermione chuckled at the pureblood's dry sense of humour.
"Ouch. You're not allowed to make me laugh." Hermione said still smiling.
"Well, I'm sure this will make up for it." Narcissa replied opening the small jar she had gone to fetch. "Me and Sev invented this far too many moons ago." Narcissa scooped a small amount of the white cream on her index and middle-fingers and gently spread it were the nasty red and black bruises coloured Hermione's face. As her skin absorbed the cream, the bruises changed from black to blue, to green, to yellow until they faded away completely.
"How-?"
"There's only one reason you wouldn't have used a normal anti-bruising potion - your body is already overloaded with magic. Sev and I made this for all the bruises you get with the cruciatus, but it works just as well with any sort of magical excess." Narcissa replied closing the small jar.
"Thank you, Narcissa." Hermione said gently.
"It's no trouble." The pureblood replied with a small smile. "Anyway, I think we were talking about the essence of magic."
Hermione nodded enthusiastically, pulling out another book from her bag. "Yes we were."
Thought I'd treat you all to a long chapter to celebrate having finished my mocks! (Let me be in denial that my real ones are basically in a month). Thank you truly for the reviews - they're getting me through these dark days of deadlines. I do consider all prompts given, so thanks for those. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter :)
