I'm sorry for the wait: not-a-proper-writer-writer's-block I'm afraid. I'd like to thank the wonderful reviewers who cured it and they are NymphadoracallmeTonks, Bhuvi, Mithrendil, MzMalfoy, and two lovely guest reviewers. Especial thanks to those who pointed out my mistake last chapter - thanks guys. So please enjoy.
Disclaimer: Still not JKR, still have no rights to the Harry Potter universe we know and love.
Chapter 29
Narcissa stared broodily into the glass of red punch she was clutching. It was not a boozy liquid, on the contrary her mother had urged her to sup that rather than the heady mulled-wine which was also being offered around. A silver tray of the taller wine goblets moved past her at waist height, hiding the House Elf that was carrying it, and Narcissa got a strong, nauseating whiff of sweetly spiced alcohol. She was stood with haughty posture and sulky expression at one edge of the formal gallery, half hidden by a tall pedestal boasting a hugely lavish flower arrangement. It had exotic 'bird of paradise' flowers in it, dotting the piece of living art with spikey petals. To Narcissa, they looked like real birds, abstracted but trapped flightless in the green. It was a grim thought.
These parties never brought out the best in her. The room was full of the circulating elite, all swirling and shining like some bloated school of fish. It was about nine in the evening and the party was in full swing. As few people had left yet, and even the most fashionably late had now shown up, each of the Rosier's entertaining rooms was packed. Despite the arctic weather, it would have been unbearably hot were it not for the enchanted snow. Tiny and perfect, icing-sugar white flakes cascaded from the high chandeliers and candelabra, cooling the air and evaporating just above the sea of heads. The magic was similar to that of the Christmas glitter at Black Manor and Narcissa surmised that her Mother and Aunt had been sharing tips there was rivalry between the two matriarchs, and each would happily outshine the other, a lack of grandeur in one house would reflect badly on the other branch of the family too.
Narcissa knew she belonged in this environment. Stately Ballrooms were her natural habitat. But these Balls were just frustrating, and never failed to sour her mood. According to strict protocol - as it was a family hosting the event - she could: attend, but only for the first few hours; dance, but only with male relatives; get dressed up, but only in what her Mother and the hostess had both approved. In the most archaic and, in Narcissa's opinion, dubious terms she was not 'out' in society.
Narcissa generally held with tradition. She liked her social standing, her luxury and her House Elves to wait on her, but on nights like that one she felt positively revolutionary. She had danced a short waltz with her Father not long after she arrived and another a while later with her Uncle – at his insistence. He teased her mercilessly and even that early on she had been fed up and in no mood to humour him. Since then she had done very little. She'd had a bit of a giggle with Andromeda at the expense of an elderly lady dressed almost entirely in pink feathers. She'd just started chatting with Sirius who was filling her in on the new three quarter-sized broom he'd got for Christmas when his mother dragged him away – he and Regulus had an early escape from the tedium of grown up parties.
Narcissa was contemplating absconding to the Library to try and find a good book and wait out the last hour before she could leave the party when a firm hand took the punch glass from her hand and set it down. The sound of false compliments, fake laughter and the low hum of classical music disguised the hiss Bellatrix unleashed on her ear.
"You look like a grumpy toddler. Need I remind you, that if you marry anyone it will be someone circulating here tonight and you must be conscious of making a good impression? Smile. What would Mother say? I'm glad I found you before your sour expression could cause too much damage. Now come along, you Andromeda and I are up next in the Music Room. Play the harp – you'll need that accomplishment to make up for your sulking."
As Bellatrix finished her tirade they were already passing out of the room, Narcissa's hand caught firmly in Bellatrix's. Both girls smiled gaily, charmingly, at everyone they passed even as one was annoyed and the other a little hurt. If Bellatrix hadn't swanned off to try and be on Lestrange's radar Narcissa wouldn't have been so alone and fed up. Bellatrix could be fun when she wanted to be, but recently she'd seemed very caught up in… politics… of all kinds really. Narcissa would never admit it, but she missed the time when the three Black sisters were more of a team. And as much as she didn't want to admit it, even to herself, Narcissa would put up with a lot to be closer to her big sister again.
…
The Black sisters finished their piece. They were well practiced and knew many songs that could showcase their talents. Tonight they had performed just three. Amongst the rousing applause that followed their playing, other birds in their brightest feathers twittered and preened anxiously to get a turn – many older than the three and with a more urgent need to show case any accomplishments. The three knew there task was done after those three songs. They had established their superiority in the field of music and made sure almost any act following them would suffer by comparison. Bellatrix had decided on three song, as usual eager to give the impression of modesty – which was one virtue she sadly lacked. Not that any Black had much of it: they got what they wanted and were always assured that what they had and what they were was the best.
Narcissa's blushing habit however, went beyond the illusion of modesty to suggesting she believed herself unworthy. It must have been showing then because as they left the little stage Bellatrix gave a warning tug to the back of her dress. To minimise the noticeability of her glowing cheeks Narcissa kept her posture erect but tilted her head down slightly, letting the tendrils of warm brown hair that had been left free of her knot fall forward. She couldn't see much, but that didn't seem to matter until he hand had been taken and placed onto the dark sleeve of expensive dress robes. Glancing at the arm she noticed a cream pearl at the cuff of the man's undershirt, just as a familiar voice began to speak.
"Narcissa," ah, so this was what Bellatrix had been trying to warn her of. "That was wonderful… a man could be forgiven for thinking you were trying to impress someone. The display was, truly, magnificent."
