Hello everyone :D This chapter is a little slower paced than the last two, but there are a few things going on. And on the subject of the next chapter, it is my pleasure to thank WildGirlJoe, MzMalfoy, Professor Mcgonagal and . Thank you so much for your kind reviews, and thank you everyone for reading. It means so much to me. Enjoy!

Chapter 26

At breakfast the next day Narcissa was looking for signs of change in the other women of the household. And she was not disappointed. Perhaps it was because she was expecting it, but Narcissa found evidence of rejuvenation in her mother and sisters. They looked remarkably well; even more striking than usual. They appeared utterly rested when she knew they'd been up late, and their eyes and hair were bright and shining.

She smiled around as the whole family ate and talked at the breakfast table. Despite herself Narcissa felt a growing sense of camaraderie with Bellatrix and even her mother; she'd always had quite strong fraternal feelings for Andromeda, but, now she was included in their secret, she began to feel greater unity with the older two. They all shared a knowing glance when Mr Black paid them a shared compliment about him being 'surrounded by beauties'. Narcissa felt more relaxed in her own home than she had in some time and joined in more readily with the family conversation.

When the debris of the meal had been magically cleared away and the girls were setting down their empty tea cups their mother raised a hand, bidding them not to rise from the table yet. She flashed them a brief smile and looked at Cygnus pointedly until he glanced up, saw her expression, and set down his copy of The Oracle. He then fixed his gaze on his wife as she began to issue her orders for the day.

"I hope you have not forgotten that as it is Christmas Eve we shall be sitting for our annual portrait this morning. I have had appropriate attire laid out on your beds and expect to find everyone ready and waiting in the drawing room at ten o'clock. Also, there is the ball at the Goyle's tonight. Your father and I will be attending as will you Bellatrix. We will leave after dinner and I expect you two to employ yourselves well for the evening." With that Druella quirked her head in dismissal and the girls filed out. She picked up her refilled tea cup, and Cygnus went back to his paper.

…

Half an hour later the family were assembled in the drawing room before the artist. He was 'a talent but unfortunately half-blood', or so her mother had muttered indiscreetly as they took up poses. Narcissa had flushed red with embarrassment for the man, and knew her face was glowing in shocking contrast to the pale turquoise silk of her roes. When she had dressed in her room she thought the shade very becoming as it displayed her Slytherin affiliation while complimenting the crystalline blue of her eyes; she had felt confident and poised before but was mortified by her mother's cruel comments.

Her family was full of skilled diplomats. Any Black, or indeed Rosier, could manipulate and charm and read any situation perfectly. When it suited them. Clearly an ill-bred wizard who was in service to them was below her mother's consideration. Narcissa wasn't sure if he had heard but as she stared with the fixed smile on her lips she noticed the pulse thudding fast in his neck as he worked. There was also a muscle that jumped in his jaw while her mother continued to mutter to Bellatrix – both of them cackling at their inside jokes, which were probably at his expense.

Narcissa felt a little irritation at their inconsiderate behaviour. The rest of her family, but her mother and Bellatrix in particular, were carelessly moving about. Narcissa didn't deem it worth making herself uncomfortable, but she thought it common courtesy to generally stay still and make the man's job a little easier. They were moaning about having people of such low standing in the house but they were effectively making sure his job would take longer than necessary. And Narcissa knew he couldn't rush: this was his living and if Mrs Black thought his art below standard he would not be paid.

As shame at their behaviour rose to the front of her mind, she could not help but admire his composure: He was being insulted; he was trying to do a difficult portrait for the most demanding customers; the subjects were being remarkably unhelpful in every way. Yet he bore it all silently, and seemed to immerse himself in the task at hand. His self-possession was excellent, beyond what Narcissa would even expect from a pureblood. Yet his blood was far from pure. Narcissa filed the thought away, for perusal later… if she truly began doubting part of the philosophy of blood purity now, there was no way she'd be able to keep this silly smirk plastered on her face.

…

That night Narcissa sat alone in the Music Room, practicing a concerto on the grand piano there. She had to admit, she'd been neglecting her music while at Hogwarts and her mother's insistence that she practice while they were out had not been a bad idea. Narcissa also played the harp, but she had been learning piano for longer and as this was one of her favourite pieces she found herself swaying a little on the stool. Her fine fingers moved with little thought and the appearance of no effort over the smooth keys and she was quite immersed in the waves of sound flowing around her.

She had not played this in a while. Although it was complex she had mastered it quite some time ago and it was one she often played for audiences at different soirées. Her mother would want her to learn something even more impressive, more magnificent, and Narcissa had been working on sections from more intricately woven pieces earlier. This was better than having a break for Narcissa. As her hands moved without much conscious instruction her mind was left free to wander unburdened in the vale of her mind. She smirked as she thought of how exceptionally beautiful the Black women always looked in the portraits. She used to think it was the artist trying to flatter them into paying more, but now she could see it was something else. And she could see why the portrait was always done just after the Winter Solstice. Clever Mama Narcissa thought as she chuckled freely, the sound hidden by the music.

Narcissa's finger danced along the instrument, instigating the key change. The piece took on a darker tone, more minor than major and Narcissa's thoughts turned to Lucius – as they were so want to do. He was still an enigma in many ways, the situation a true predicament. She had become accustomed to him favouring her, not just with gifts but in deferring to her – adding to her all-important status and bringing others to respect her more. He was dangerously charming and darkly addictive. There was a deep resonating strength and assurance in Lucius that had her questioning everything in the world, except him.

Her hands worked almost in opposition, at different ends of the keys and often at a contrasting tempo; something about this lead her thoughts to Marius. She could barely forgive herself for allowing the betrayal to happen, but he had. Malfoy thought him dispensable because of his family's lower status. Yet Marius was valuable, a rarity. Marius was too intrinsically good to be Slytherin… he was frank like a Gryffindor, loyal like a Hufflepuff. He always seemed slightly naïve and with his boisterous sense of humour he felt almost like a child to her. Narcissa felt duty bound and almost protective of him. He was light in the shadowy corners of the Common Room, a purer substance in the dark.

The song was drawing to a close. One of Narcissa's hands danced slowly, bringing the low powerful notes towards a great crescendo. The other moved with fluid grace to produce lilting high notes sounding pure and joyous in the air. Forgetting her troubles, Narcissa revelled in the music swelling around her. The dark and strong, the bright and sweet blending to form an intricate harmony that was richer than the sum of its parts.