The Third Sister
By Kacella
I sit on the hard wooden bench and wonder what I'm doing here.
She doesn't want me here.
Well, no, that's not entirely true, but this is: He doesn't want us here.
He wouldn't want us here if he knew that we were here.
Yet, I start to think as I look at the mass of people gathered here today, that this cape that allows invisibility is completely pointless, for many so many people are here today. Alas, the featured couple is one of the "Royal Couples" of the wizarding world.
Much like we.
You sit there, a loving smile on your face, toying with my hair. We are not yet married yet I already consider you my husband. I love you.
A hint of a smile touches my lips as I think of you. But then my thoughts of you are to be interrupted by thoughts of her. The bride for whom we have come. My sister.
I have two sisters, my love for them is an ever-forthcoming bounty. It hurts me every time one of them doesn't return a call, or doesn't reply a letter.
For my oldest sister I've already given up all hope. I still send her an occasional letter, but I have stopped hoping for a reply. I haven't heard from her for over a year, since my graduation. I'm not surprised that I don't see her here. In fact, it would have come as quite a shock, had I seen her here. She doesn't associate with "our kind", she and her husband have rented a muggle flat, and she is doing nicely, so I hear.
When will we have a quaint little flat? I think to myself as I study you again. Even though we are invisible to the world, you have worn your best cape, and you've also tried to tame your hair, I see. Oh well, all in vain, dear, all in vain.
I snuggle up to you, as if the thought of my sisters has left me cold. You don't know what is gong through my head, yet you have heard the story before, and though all our differences, your love to me has never wavered. Again, I love you.
Staring into your eyes as you look at me fills me with happiness, yet the warmness inside slowly evaporates as I think of his eyes. The eyes of the man who took my second sister, today's bride, away.. His eyes are cold, they remind me of icy northern planes. A tundra- cold, emotionless. How could two sisters be in love with such different men? Such stark opposites?
Yet I doubt she loves him. I doubt she has the same feelings for him as I have for you. Could her stomach become filled with butterflies every time he takes her hand, as mine is with you? Does her heart skip beats every time she looks into his eyes, as mine do with you? Do her knees still turn into butter by each kiss, as mine do with you?
Or is it obsession that drives her to him? Obsession with wealth, good looks, a good name?
All things I have with you... Yet surely what I feel is not obsession. I love you.
Now to my eldest sister.... Well, I'm not sure what she feels for her beastly husband. Surely not disgust, as I do. Yet, in my heart of hearts, I think it is only society that pushed her into the marriage with him. The pressure she has always felt to do "the norm". They aren't soulmates, as we are.
We used to love each other so much while growing up! We were Mum's "bouquet", as she called us. Her bouquet of flowers, as we were all named after flowers.
There's me, Lily, the youngest. A shock of red hair, green eyes that mirror enthusiasm for all what life has to offer. Lily, also called the dreamer, lover of life, very intelligent. It has always been my goal to prove myself. Family has always been of major importance. Even though, I, by some kind of twist of fate, perhaps a recessive gene, was born a witch to muggle parents, I have never felt a distance to my family in any way, I love them still.
I think- No, I know, that I would give my life up for my family, for any family member.
Then there's the eldest, Petunia. Petunia, whom I always admired, yet who never really realized it, and in turn resented me. Growing up I never really realized how much you strive to fit in, be part of the crowd. You never really had any of the benefits your other two sisters had. Never brains nor beauty. Yet, maybe now, looking back, I think you managed to cope with that by trying to have a normal amount of everything. For that's who you were and who you strove to be: Normal.
I think my very first memory was of you trying to hide between shadows and street lights, as we played hide-and-seek in the twilight. Maybe your philosophy was, that if you hid yourself in the most obvious place, you would be over looked. I don't know. The only thing I really remember about that evening was the scowl that played your bony features as I tagged you. Your golden hair hung in strings on your six-year-old shoulders, yet to me you were the most beautiful girl in the world. I wanted to be just like you, my big sister.
Now to the second oldest, second youngest, the middle sister. Our bride. We both loved you. I think it made you spoiled, you only appreciated the best, for that is all you got. Your golden hair lit up a room, as it still does, your elegant features could make any person appreciative of beauty smile. I don't really know what you thought of us. Probably that we were just extras in the movie of your life. You were in the spotlight, we were the back drop. I never had a problem with being the side-kick, neither did Petunia. How could one not love you? You were the princess of our middle class home, of our small neighborhood.
With you started the hate in Petunia. As soon as you were contacted by the same school of wizardry that would later contacted me. I think she wanted to go too. With you the seed of envy was planted, with me it began to grow. She wanted to fit in again, this time with us. Yet then things became twisted in her mind. She labeled us as the "weirdoes".
She labeled us freaks, yet it didn't really affect you. You just stared at her, your intelligence saw through her facade of disgust and into her soul of jealousy.
And now, I sit here, on this wooden bench, unseen among the many people through the means of an enchanted cape. Mum and Dad aren't with us anymore, yet his family is. His family consists of the real aristocrats. You're with them now, I think you may have found your place in the world. But why with them? Why must he hate the man that I love? Why must he hate your parentage? You threw me away after he wished it. You threw away your family, to begin anew with him. To become his family.
Yet blind to all your faults, I still love you.
The organ has started. I turn my head to where you, the bride, will be walking down the isle. A thousand things flutter through my mind at once: Did we not want to raise our children together? Are we still the same sisters who played dolls in the living room together, in front of the hearth? Has growing up changed us so much?
I see you now.
You walk down the isle. You hold crimson roses in your white hands. Your bare a face of pure concentration. On what? Your eyes show nothing. They have become his eyes, haven't they?
Cold and driven, an emotionless nothing.
Good-bye Narcissa Evans. You stand now at the altar, across from your fair-headed fiancé, to become Narcissa Malfoy. Farewell.
By Kacella
I sit on the hard wooden bench and wonder what I'm doing here.
She doesn't want me here.
Well, no, that's not entirely true, but this is: He doesn't want us here.
He wouldn't want us here if he knew that we were here.
Yet, I start to think as I look at the mass of people gathered here today, that this cape that allows invisibility is completely pointless, for many so many people are here today. Alas, the featured couple is one of the "Royal Couples" of the wizarding world.
Much like we.
You sit there, a loving smile on your face, toying with my hair. We are not yet married yet I already consider you my husband. I love you.
A hint of a smile touches my lips as I think of you. But then my thoughts of you are to be interrupted by thoughts of her. The bride for whom we have come. My sister.
I have two sisters, my love for them is an ever-forthcoming bounty. It hurts me every time one of them doesn't return a call, or doesn't reply a letter.
For my oldest sister I've already given up all hope. I still send her an occasional letter, but I have stopped hoping for a reply. I haven't heard from her for over a year, since my graduation. I'm not surprised that I don't see her here. In fact, it would have come as quite a shock, had I seen her here. She doesn't associate with "our kind", she and her husband have rented a muggle flat, and she is doing nicely, so I hear.
When will we have a quaint little flat? I think to myself as I study you again. Even though we are invisible to the world, you have worn your best cape, and you've also tried to tame your hair, I see. Oh well, all in vain, dear, all in vain.
I snuggle up to you, as if the thought of my sisters has left me cold. You don't know what is gong through my head, yet you have heard the story before, and though all our differences, your love to me has never wavered. Again, I love you.
Staring into your eyes as you look at me fills me with happiness, yet the warmness inside slowly evaporates as I think of his eyes. The eyes of the man who took my second sister, today's bride, away.. His eyes are cold, they remind me of icy northern planes. A tundra- cold, emotionless. How could two sisters be in love with such different men? Such stark opposites?
Yet I doubt she loves him. I doubt she has the same feelings for him as I have for you. Could her stomach become filled with butterflies every time he takes her hand, as mine is with you? Does her heart skip beats every time she looks into his eyes, as mine do with you? Do her knees still turn into butter by each kiss, as mine do with you?
Or is it obsession that drives her to him? Obsession with wealth, good looks, a good name?
All things I have with you... Yet surely what I feel is not obsession. I love you.
Now to my eldest sister.... Well, I'm not sure what she feels for her beastly husband. Surely not disgust, as I do. Yet, in my heart of hearts, I think it is only society that pushed her into the marriage with him. The pressure she has always felt to do "the norm". They aren't soulmates, as we are.
We used to love each other so much while growing up! We were Mum's "bouquet", as she called us. Her bouquet of flowers, as we were all named after flowers.
There's me, Lily, the youngest. A shock of red hair, green eyes that mirror enthusiasm for all what life has to offer. Lily, also called the dreamer, lover of life, very intelligent. It has always been my goal to prove myself. Family has always been of major importance. Even though, I, by some kind of twist of fate, perhaps a recessive gene, was born a witch to muggle parents, I have never felt a distance to my family in any way, I love them still.
I think- No, I know, that I would give my life up for my family, for any family member.
Then there's the eldest, Petunia. Petunia, whom I always admired, yet who never really realized it, and in turn resented me. Growing up I never really realized how much you strive to fit in, be part of the crowd. You never really had any of the benefits your other two sisters had. Never brains nor beauty. Yet, maybe now, looking back, I think you managed to cope with that by trying to have a normal amount of everything. For that's who you were and who you strove to be: Normal.
I think my very first memory was of you trying to hide between shadows and street lights, as we played hide-and-seek in the twilight. Maybe your philosophy was, that if you hid yourself in the most obvious place, you would be over looked. I don't know. The only thing I really remember about that evening was the scowl that played your bony features as I tagged you. Your golden hair hung in strings on your six-year-old shoulders, yet to me you were the most beautiful girl in the world. I wanted to be just like you, my big sister.
Now to the second oldest, second youngest, the middle sister. Our bride. We both loved you. I think it made you spoiled, you only appreciated the best, for that is all you got. Your golden hair lit up a room, as it still does, your elegant features could make any person appreciative of beauty smile. I don't really know what you thought of us. Probably that we were just extras in the movie of your life. You were in the spotlight, we were the back drop. I never had a problem with being the side-kick, neither did Petunia. How could one not love you? You were the princess of our middle class home, of our small neighborhood.
With you started the hate in Petunia. As soon as you were contacted by the same school of wizardry that would later contacted me. I think she wanted to go too. With you the seed of envy was planted, with me it began to grow. She wanted to fit in again, this time with us. Yet then things became twisted in her mind. She labeled us as the "weirdoes".
She labeled us freaks, yet it didn't really affect you. You just stared at her, your intelligence saw through her facade of disgust and into her soul of jealousy.
And now, I sit here, on this wooden bench, unseen among the many people through the means of an enchanted cape. Mum and Dad aren't with us anymore, yet his family is. His family consists of the real aristocrats. You're with them now, I think you may have found your place in the world. But why with them? Why must he hate the man that I love? Why must he hate your parentage? You threw me away after he wished it. You threw away your family, to begin anew with him. To become his family.
Yet blind to all your faults, I still love you.
The organ has started. I turn my head to where you, the bride, will be walking down the isle. A thousand things flutter through my mind at once: Did we not want to raise our children together? Are we still the same sisters who played dolls in the living room together, in front of the hearth? Has growing up changed us so much?
I see you now.
You walk down the isle. You hold crimson roses in your white hands. Your bare a face of pure concentration. On what? Your eyes show nothing. They have become his eyes, haven't they?
Cold and driven, an emotionless nothing.
Good-bye Narcissa Evans. You stand now at the altar, across from your fair-headed fiancé, to become Narcissa Malfoy. Farewell.