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We were young children for a time. Not yet old enough to understand the true gravity that came along with being born with pure blood. We laughed like other children did. We told hushed secrets and hid our vegetables in our napkins. We trusted our parents.
I don't exactly remember when things began to change - when shoulders were forced back and sticky fingers were cause for punishment.
I don't exactly remember when Nina's fate began to take shape.
.
Perhaps it was leading up to the first Black family Summer party that we were old enough to attend; when mother had taken Nina and I out to buy nice dresses. Dressing like mom had been fun right up until it wasn't fun anymore, right up until what was once an innocent game became an expectation to perform in a twisted pure blood version of a dog and pony show. The first couple of times we didn't mind the prodding and measuring, as we had not yet known the dark connotations behind exactly what it meant to be "old enough" to attend a Black Summer party. At eleven years old we were still under the impression that a pretty dress was just a pretty dress; at seventeen, I now know it's far more comparable to animals being raised for slaughter… the fattest, most well-bred pig sold to the highest bidder.
So yes, perhaps that's when things began to change.
.
Or maybe it was when dad taught us how to "act the part." I remember that conversation clear as day. I remember the way he explained the workings of the party; I remember the way he looked different, something about the way the dim light of his office shadowed his face and his suddenly intimidating desk separated us from him; I remember his speech, so carefully worded and well-thought out… so very meticulous.
"Do you know what it means to be important?" He posed the words as a question, though continued on as though it was never his intention to elicit a response from either of the young, wide-eyed girls sitting across from him, "To be important is to have something to offer… to have something other people want. This...party… we are going to tomorrow night - it is crucial that you understand… there will be many important people there, many people we do not want to disappoint. Now… the first trick to surviving one of these parties, especially for a young lady, is to say very little. Now that is not to say that you cannot speak. If somebody addresses you, you respond. I only ask that you not speak unless spoken to. You see… arrogance is loud, elegance is silent. Remember that. Arrogance is loud, elegance is silent. You never want to be viewed as arrogant. To be arrogant is to be self-important. We have established that to be important is to have something to offer… to be self-important is to 'think' you have something to offer when, in reality, you do not. Those with flashy possessions and flashy words are more often than not compensating for their lack of having anything to offer. Rarely do the words of an arrogant man reflect the truth.
Now, the next trick to surviving this party - the importance of eye contact. You always look a man in the eye. To avoid eye contact is to show weakness, and my girls are not weak. When someone is speaking to you, and you to them, you look them in the eye and do not ever be the first to look away. That is very important…. There is that word again; important. I say not being the first to look away is important because it offers you something. There is something to be gained from not being the first to look away and that, my girls, is confidence. Whether you are truly confident or simply want to give the illusion of confidence, it is shown through not backing down. Remember, confidence is never to be confused with arrogance. It is not only acceptable to be confident, but also desirable. Arrogance is neither acceptable nor desirable. You see, arrogance is walking into a room and thinking you are better than everybody else. Confidence is walking into a room and not feeling the need to compare yourself to others. You know who you are, you know your worth, and you are not intimidated by the worth of others. An arrogant man would never recognize the worth of another and that is his most fatal flaw.
I have just one last piece of advice for you girls. Stand tall. You say more through body language than you do through words. When you walk in that building tomorrow, you walk in with your head held high, your shoulders held back, and your arms are not crossed. Never let the size of a building or the arrogance of the people around you make you feel small. There is no building bigger than you, there is no person bigger than you. You walk in that room with the confidence of a Royal. Nina and Holland Royal are not smaller than anybody or anything.
Yes, perhaps this too was when things began to change. At the time, I did not realize that this speech would jumpstart what became a life of outer appearance and meticulous thought prior to action or speech. At this time, I did not know just how far Nina would take the art of rebellion.
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I suppose it also could have been at the Black Family Party when things began to change. I remember the instant feeling of disappointment that washed over me when we arrived; the word party had certainly been a stretch. No, this was not a party in the least – in fact, it was quite the bleak affair. The adults sipped away at a then unknown substance in an effort to falsely convince themselves that they were happy, while the children stood around in silence, innocently wondering why their attendance at a 'party' such as this were required.
It was at this 'party' that I felt, for the first time, uncomfortable in a pretty dress. We had just passed the threshold of 12 Grimmauld Place – the great, ancestral home of the Black family – when we were stopped by Orion Black himself. He greeted us with a smile that did not quite match the hardness of his eyes… eyes that slowly ventured from Nina to myself; back and forth and back and forth. He stood straight as he did this, his head angling downwards at almost a 90 degree angle in order to take us in without sacrificing his apparent need for perfect posture. Shoulders back, head bent downwards, eyes slowly moving back and forth, back and forth; to this day, still one of the most unsettling sights I'd ever witnessed.
What beautiful daughters you have, again wearing that smile that seemed incredibly out of place, and what's your name?
I remember looking up at my dad before answering, only speaking once he gave me a stiff nod, Holland.
His smile grew, as did the hardness in his eyes, and his face began to morph into that of a nightmarish creature, Holland, he thought on the name for a few seconds, what a beautiful name for such a beautiful girl. A rare combination, you know: a beautiful girl with a beautiful name in a beautiful dress. A rare combination indeed. I have a son, you know. Perhaps you would like to show him your pretty dress? Oh my, such a pretty dress.
I remember feeling as though I'd almost rather be standing in front of him naked than wearing 'such a pretty dress'.
Do you mind Gerard? I would love to escort precious Holland to come meet my son, Sirius.
My father had placed a firm hand on my shoulder, How about you escort the both of us, he voiced, and I still remember that wash of relief that fell over me at not having to be left alone with a then disappointed Orion Black.
Very well then, he had turned promptly on his heels, leading us to a young Sirius Black, somebody whose company I have come to moderately enjoy over the years.
Nina though, was not as lucky. See, while I was introduced to the rebellious and surprisingly witty Sirius Black, Nina was forced into a night of unwilling partnership with the twisted and vile Evan Rosier, who was entirely too young to be as sadistic as he was.
So yes, maybe this is when things began to change for Nina.
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Regardless of which event or decision ultimately led to my sisters disappearance, I know one thing for certain; the more people tried to keep Nina in line, the wilder she became. It is the knowledge of this fact that keeps me awake at night. You see, it's easy to imagine she was taken, ripped away from this world by the hands of evil. But, knowing Nina as well as I did, I know there's another very plausible, and possibly more painful possibility: her disappearance was entirely self-inflicted, a selfish ploy to rid herself of the chains that bound her to the purist lifestyle in which she was born, all the while leaving me here, alone, to be fed to the snakes that lurk around every dark and dreary corner.
It's the not knowing that drives me fucking crazy.