Title: In Retrospect
Rating: PG
Summary: A series of memories as Narcissa reflects upon what time has done to the Black sisters.
Disclaimer: All belongs to J. K. Rowling.
Notes: Written pre-HBP, but I think everything is still canon. I've decided, since we don't know for sure the age order of the sisters, to make Andromeda the oldest, followed by Bellatrix and then Narcissa. All dates are based upon the fact that, according to the Lexicon, Tonks was born in 1973. Thanks to the Lexicon and to my betas.
Part I: Naïveté
January 1982
Narcissa gazed out the window of the carriage as it floated up the drive. It was quite gratifying to see the look on the butler's face as he came to open the door for her. Of course that was, she realized, the reason she had taken the carriage instead of Apparating, a quicker, more efficient mode of transportation. So few wizarding families used carriages anymore, but Narcissa had always enjoyed the leisurely atmosphere it provided, not to mention the aura of luxury and wealth that surrounded the old-fashioned vehicle.
She let the butler help her out. Though she held her head high, not acknowledging his deferential bow, she noticed that he was not the same servant as the one who had greeted her upon her last arrival. Most of the gentry would have failed to notice the difference between one servant and another, especially when they all dressed the same, but Narcissa had always prided herself on her sense of observation. Her curiosity rose, as she wondered why someone new was necessary yet again.
Sweeping into the house, Narcissa passed her deep blue velvet cloak to the waiting house-elf. This one was not new; she remembered the creature from her youth.
"Miss Narcissa," the elf murmured. "The Mistress is waiting in the drawing room."
It was interesting, she thought, that the house-elf was giving introductions, not the butler. How times had changed.
The house itself had not changed in the few months between her last visit and now. The opulent, gold molding decorated the walls, on which were hung the same exquisite paintings. The chandelier in the foyer sparkled as usual, and the crimson carpet that led up the elegant main staircase was as clean as ever.
It was the silence that was different; Narcissa shivered, though it wasn't the temperature that gave her goose bumps. The whole house felt cold, empty, as if death was right around the corner. Truly, there were no less people here than usual, but apparently even the house could feel the change in the air.
"Narcissa!" A stately lady rose from her chair and moved towards Narcissa, a smile upon her face. Her robes were black silk, of the finest quality and cut, and her hair and makeup were flawless.
Odelina Black, though now in her fifties, was still as elegant, genteel and impressive as she had been in her twenties. Narcissa often wondered how her mother remained so thin, without a gray hair on her blonde head; even the black that society ordered her to wear suited her. Then again, she doubted her mother's body would dare do anything with out explicit orders from Odelina herself.
"Mother." Narcissa offered her cheek to be kissed, and then sat down in one of the antique chairs.
"You look lovely, my dear," Mrs. Black murmured as she beckoned the house-elf to pour tea. "Those new robes are so flattering."
"Thank you," Narcissa replied with a smile. Her new robes were the latest style, fresh from Paris, in the pale blue she had always favored. They accentuatedher forget-me-not eyes, blonde curls and pale skin. But that her mother found them suitable and attractive made Narcissa feel like a little girl again; compliments from Mrs. Black had always been so rare.
She accepted the china cup from the house-elf, as she pondered if she should mention the new butler. Then again, household staff was probably a subject best left alone for now.
She sipped her tea, the awkward, cold silence almost unbearable. She hadn't come all this way to make small talk with her mother, but she had no idea how to introduce the dreaded subject. After all, Mrs. Black was an expert at deflecting unwanted questions and avoiding distasteful topics. She would have no desire to talk about Bellatrix now; Narcissa could remember all too well Mrs. Black's response to the situation with Andromeda.
December 1972
It had been Christmas, of course. The Crouches were hosting their annual party in their magnificent ballroom, decorated in reds and golds. Witches and wizards of the highest class mingled around, eating and drinking, dancing and talking, but Narcissa had sat on the stairs, gazing down at the ballroom below, her face impassive. The many witches and wizards meandering around the room wouldn't have been able to tell how very listless and confused she felt.
It was just two weeks after Andromeda's abrupt departure from the Black household and here they were, acting as if nothing had ever happened. Narcissa's parents held their heads high, smiling and chatting with the other guests, all of whom were oh-so-delicately avoiding the questions, but dying to know all the gossip. Narcissa had no doubt there were rumors flying around; every face seemed to hide a snide remark behind a fake smile.
She didn't want to answer questions and pretend it was all nothing. Her older sister, Andromeda, whom she had followed around adoringly for so many years, had disgraced the family in too many ways. Narcissa had always longed to be Andromeda – beautiful, mature, elegant, and always so perfect. And now, realizing what her sister had been doing all these years, discovering her sister's true thoughts, and witnessing her sister's mortifying elopement with a muggleborn, of all people, she didn't know what to think.
None of her family seemed to have this problem. Her mother had betrayed no emotion whatsoever when it happened and she was now fixing anyone who dared to mention Andromeda's name with an "Andromeda who?" look. Her father had denounced his eldest immediately and then he too began pretending as if nothing had ever happened. Bellatrix was the only who really let on how embarrassing it all was. She had thrown a fit when she heard the news, swearing to kill Andromeda herself for betraying and shaming the Black family this way.
"And what will people think of me?" she had demanded of no one in particular. "Is my name forever to be linked with hers? Will I have the same reputation that she now has – that of a depraved, muggle-loving woman, lacking in morals and sense? What will people say?"
"People will say what people will say," Mrs. Black had replied. "But you are a Black, Bellatrix, and no one will ever forget that."
Now Bellatrix was dancing and laughing with her friends, throwing brazen looks at the young men, making everyone stare as they passed her by. The center of any gathering was where Bellatrix would always be and it appeared that nothing Andromeda did could change that.
Narcissa felt no desire to mingle in the crowd, make conversation with old friends, smile politely at her parents' friends, or flirt with any of the men there, even if she could have. Just fourteen, she was not yet "out" in society. She felt out of place with the adults, yet far beyond the younger children playing inthe nursery upstairs. If she hadn't feared her mother's wrath so, she would have left. Instead, she spent the night crouched on the stairs, watching everyone else.
And in the carriage on the way home she listened to Mrs. Black reproach her for being so unsociable and improper.
"I saw you sitting there," Mrs. Black had snapped. "You should have stayed upstairs where you belonged, not skulked around like that. You're almost a young woman, Narcissa, so you had better learn to behave like one. Goodness knows your sisters seem to be lacking in that department."
But the difference between Narcissa and her sisters was that neither Andromeda, now long gone, nor Bellatrix, ignoring her mother from the corner of the carriage, would have been upset by Mrs. Black's words. Narcissa, however, felt like crying.
January 1982
"More tea, my dear?" Mrs. Black's voice broke Narcissa's reverie.
"Oh, ah, yes, please," Narcissa replied, surprise getting the best of her. She remembered a time when Mrs. Black wouldn't have been quite so polite to her youngest daughter.
Andromeda had always been her favorite; beautiful, polite, accomplished, elegant and every inch the perfect Black. The Black matriarch often held Andromeda's behavior up as an example for her other daughters to follow. But that had never gone to Andromeda's head; she was always sweet and polite to her sisters, making it impossible to hate her. At least it was impossible for Narcissa to hate Andromeda; Bellatrix had no problem scorning both her sisters. As the most intelligent, she was her father's favorite. He was forever giving her new spell books and she ate them up every time; she was the son he had always wanted. Her marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions were higher than any other student in the history of Hogwarts. She was as beautiful as Andromeda, but where Andromeda's attraction was in her smile and sweet temper, Bellatrix's was in her ability to fascinate everyone who came into contact with her. Unfortunately, her high spirits and unpredictable temper kept her from being perfect in her mother's eyes, but that had never bothered Bellatrix.
Narcissa, the youngest, had always felt as if she would never be good enough for her parents. While her grades were good, they were nothing to Bellatrix's and she had excelled in Charms and Divination, nothing worthwhile in Mr. Black's mind. She didn't have Andromeda's elegance or charm, or Bellatrix's command. In fact, Narcissa, as a child, had been unable to conjure up the Black demeanor that spoke of poise, power, and a firm belief that as a Black, she was better than everyone else. Her father never had time for her and her mother despaired of turning her into a "real Black." Meanwhile Andromeda's and Bellatrix's stars were growing and Narcissa had felt left behind, longing to follow her sisters everywhere.
July 1971
"Andromeda, you must wear the pink robes," Mrs. Black commanded as the girls prepared for the party that evening. "And Bellatrix, you wear your red ones."
Both girls nodded as their mother swept out of the room. Narcissa sat in the closet, hidden, as she watched her sisters dressing through the mirror.
"Bella, once you're dressed, let me help you with your makeup," Andromeda cajoled her younger sister, her voice sweet.
"Don't be ridiculous, Andromeda," Bellatrix retorted. "I think I can take care of myself." She made a face at the robes her mother had picked out, but pulled them over her head anyway. She glanced into the mirror for a second before turning back to Andromeda, who was carefully adjusting her robes. Though Bellatrix pretended to have little time for makeup and hair, Narcissa knew her older sister like to look her best; Andromeda said it was because of all the young men that would be at the party. Bellatrix was an attention seeker, and loved the fact that her looks drew so many men.
"No, you can't," Andromeda replied, fixed a ribbon in her own chestnut curls. "I know Mother objects to us wearing makeup, and it's not like you need any, but I'm better at it than you."
Bellatrix tossed her head, her violet eyes flashing. Such an irregular color, everyone always said, as they were drawn to Bellatrix's gaze. Indeed, Narcissa would give anything to trade her pale features and childish face for Bellatrix's darker complexion, and hard, aristocratic characteristics. Or even for Andromeda's brown curls and eyes, sweet smile and her classic features. In Narcissa's opinion either type of beauty was preferable to her own looks. She could never hope to overshadow her sisters.
"Really, you should wear violet," Andromeda continued. "It brings out your eyes."
"Purple is a hideous color," Bellatrix snapped. "Stop primping and hurry up."
"Mother won't like you wearing your hair down," Andromeda warned.
"I don't care," Bellatrix replied, turning her head to admire her long hair.
"No, you don't," Andromeda's voice took on a teasing tone. "I do believe the Lestranges will be there tonight."
"Of course they will," Bellatrix replied.
"At their party you and Rodolphus seemed to be getting along very well," Andromeda turned away from the mirror, a mischievous smile on her face. Bellatrix flushed, before tilting her chin up.
"Stop matchmaking, Andromeda, you know I can't stand it. Some of us are still in school and not quite ready to settle down with some boring man and raise children."
"Pity you're not interested," Andromeda's voice was deceptively calm. "I overheard Rodolphus telling Evan that he thought your hair was beautiful."
"He said that?" Bellatrix swung around. "Andromeda, if you're lying…"
"You don't scare me," Andromeda laughed. "Yes, he said that," she continued nonchalantly, turning away again. "Isn't that's why you're wearing your hair down, even though Mother won't like it? I know you'll flirt with every man in the room and even sneak off with one, which will drive Rodolphus crazy and make Mother furious. You're a tease, Bella."
Bellatrix ignored her, storming over to the closet to find her shoes.
"Cissa!" she cried when she stumbled over Narcissa. "Have you been here all the time?"
"What are you doing?" Andromeda came to stand behind Bellatrix, frowning slightly.
"Uh, I wasn't – I just wanted -," Narcissa mumbled, not sure how to deflect Bellatrix's anger.
"She can't even lie properly," Bellatrix sighed, scorn filling her voice. "Are you really a Black?"
Narcissa flushed, even though she knew that would just make Bellatrix ridicule her more. Bellatrix hated any sign of weakness. The whole Black family despised common traits, but Narcissa certainly had them all in abundance.
"I won't tell Mother about you and Rodolphus!" she cried quickly. She knew her mother was continuously trying to make Bellatrix behave in a more ladylike fashion and would be livid if she knew how Bellatrix flirted with everyone or that she cared about impressing Rodolphus Lestrange.
"Of course you won't," Bellatrix snarled. "You have some sense of loyalty, I hope."
"Bella, don't be cruel," Andromeda scolded lightly. "Cissa, come out from there. You shouldn't hide like that."
Somehow Andromeda's gentle reprimand hurt as much as Bellatrix's threats.
January 1982
"How's my darling little Draco?" Mrs. Black asked, smiling fondly. "You must bring him for a visit some time. And you did tell the house-elves to make that recipe I gave you last time you were here? Little children need to eat well; though not too much of course."
"Draco's fine," Narcissa replied. "He's walking and talking so well for his age! And Lucius wants to begin his wand training, but I don't want to push him too far…"
"He's a Malfoy and a Black, dear. He'll be more intelligent them all of them. So handsome too," Mrs. Black gushed. "He looks so much like you when you were little. You really were the most beautiful child. I was looking through old photo albums the other day." She rang the bell for the house-elf, while she continued to talk. "Such elegant young girls, all of you."
The house-elf hurried in, carrying a stack of old, dusty photo albums. Mrs. Black picked the top one up and opened it to the middle.
"See, there you are! Looking so lovely for that party. And there's your father…" she continued to talk, pointing out each picture. But Narcissa wasn't listening; she was glancing at the empty spaces, where photos once had been.
All of the pictures of Andromeda were gone.
She'd never realized that they'd all been taken out. Curious, Narcissa took another book from the house-elf's arms. While Mrs. Black flipped through the album, Narcissa looked through older ones
Sure enough, Mrs. Black, or whichever house-elf had actually done the work, hadn't gotten rid of them all. In one album, there were all the pictures of Andromeda; Andromeda holding little Narcissa while Bellatrix ran in circles around them; Andromeda laughing and chasing Bellatrix around; Andromeda posing for the camera; Andromeda hosting her first luncheon, while Narcissa watched in the background. Narcissa watched her sister's happy face, wondering if ever then, during her last summer in the Black household, Andromeda knew what was going to happen. Surely Mrs. Black, seated off to the side, had no idea. Nor did any other members of the family.
Except Narcissa. Watching her fourteen-year-old face it all came flooding back. The months of agony, of not knowing what was going on or what she should do about it. And for months after Andromeda's elopement, Narcissa continued wondering if she should have – even if she could have – stopped her sister in the beginning.
June 1972
"Shh, Cissa, don't move," Andromeda's whispers woke Narcissa. Her sister, dressed in strange Muggle clothes, was climbing over her bed.
"What?" Narcissa demanded blearily.
"Yours is the only window near a tree," Andromeda replied, opening the window with a flick of her wand. "You never saw a thing."
"Where are you going?" Narcissa demanded, but Andromeda was gone, sliding onto the branch situated near Narcissa's window, before slithering down the tree. Narcissa stared, shocked, at the figure running across the moonlit garden. It was the type of thing one expected of Bellatrix. In fact, because of Bellatrix's nighttime escapades, their parents had placed wards on the house, preventing anyone from Apparating in or out at night. Narcissa doubted that had stopped Bellatrix, as if obviously hadn't stopped Andromeda from doing the unthinkable.
The sun was peeking over the treetops when Andromeda swung herself backover the windowsill.
"Thanks, Cissa." Andromeda favored her little sister with a smile. "I knew I could trust you."
Feeling a flush of pride to know that her older sister trusted her, Narcissa said nothing. Every night for the rest of the summer Andromeda crept through the house and climbed out of Narcissa's window, but Narcissa never asked a question. Had it been Narcissa sneaking out via one of her sister's rooms, she had no doubt Andromeda would have gently forced Narcissa to remain inside. Bellatrix would have certainly used blackmail.
If either Bellatrix or Narcissa had known Andromeda's destination, they would have so shocked that sisterly loyalty would have been forgotten. And Mr. and Mrs. Black would have stopped their oldest right then and there.
January 1982Narcissa had often wondered what Andromeda would have done if her parents had found out about her nocturnal exploits. Would she have caved in to their demands, with tears and protests? Stormed and screamed as Bellatrix would have? Obeyed without a question, like she had always done? Or walked out, head held high, every inch a proud Black defending her right to do whatever she wanted to do.
In fact, Narcissa had often been surprised that when Andromeda climbed out of that window for the last time, it was in the middle of the night. Competent, calm Andromeda would have told her parents what she was doing, not snuck off like she was ashamed.
That Andromeda might have been scared of her parents' reactions had never occurred to Narcissa until recently. Narcissa had been the meek, quiet one, while her sisters took orders from no one and never backed down. But now that she could reflect upon their past, she realized that perhaps Andromeda knew what she was doing to her family, and while she chose to do it anyway, she felt somewhat ashamed of her choice
Narcissa realized she was daydreaming again. Her mother, however, hadn't noticed and was still talking.
"And how is Lucius?" Mrs. Black asked, waving the house-elf away. Narcissa could tell how proud she was of her son-in-law. It was ironic, she mused, that of the three Black girls, she was the one who her mother now favored, she was the one who had married best, and she was the one who would carry on the Black lineage.
"He's fine," Narcissa replied. "Very busy with work, as usual."
"I hope he isn't neglecting you." Mrs. Black sipped her tea. "Of course, he's such an important man, just like your father. Really, I don't know what these men do all day, always so busy."
Mrs. Black was portraying the Odelina Black she showed to her friends and acquaintances at parties and gatherings. If Narcissa hadn't know the real woman, the strict ruler of the family, she would have thought her mother was just another vacuous lady who cared more about clothes and gossip than anything else. She knew that Mrs. Black had been the strength behind the family, the one that had held the Blacks together through many a disaster, and the one who kept the name from sinking too far. Although not a Black by birth, she had instilled more of the Black qualities in her daughters than Mr. Black ever had.
August 1973
As Narcissa packed her trunk she could hear Bellatrix down the hall. Ever since graduating from Hogwarts a few months before, Bellatrix had been bored at the Black Manor. She had no patience with her mother's social gatherings; Bellatrix had never been good at concealing her true feelings, nor had she ever thought she ought to, and more often than not she was very vocal about her boredom. Mr. Black had always ignored these outbursts, saying he liked a girl with "spirit" and Bellatrix's beauty, pride and intelligence kept her from being a total disgrace in society.
But if poised and polite Andromeda could elope with someone so unsatisfactory, then of what was Bellatrix capable? Mrs. Black was determined to save the family name.
"It isn't fair!" Bellatrix cried. From any other child the remark would have sounded petulant and unreasonable. Bellatrix simply sounded as if she was stating a fact. "I'm not Andromeda." She spat her sister's name. "Why must you confine me to the house?"
"Bellatrix, I can't have you gallivanting around," Mrs. Black snapped. "People talk enough as it is – do you want to be shunned and scorned too? You are a Black!"
Narcissa could almost see her sister's defiant pose, her violet eyes snapping angrily. No one could be quite so obstinate and intimidating as Bellatrix - except Mrs. Black.
"So what do you want me to do?" Bellatrix demanded. "Attend your insipid parties, smile and simper? That's what Cissa is for, not me."
It hurt Narcissa to know that Bellatrix thought so little of her. Ever since Narcissa had entered Hogwarts, Bellatrix had scorned her little sister publicly and privately; she'd had more use for Andromeda than the youngest Black girl.
"Certainly not," Mrs. Black retorted. "I have enough damage control to do without you making things worse. You can't be trusted in polite company and you certainly can't work like some common peasant, yet you seem unable to control yourself. I'd send you off to Europe like I did," she paused, "your sister, but you'll just get into trouble there too. However, your father seems to think your education is lacking. While I think it unbecoming for a lady to know so many spells and potions, I admit Hogwarts left you ill prepared for the real world.
"Therefore," Mrs. Black continued, giving Bellatrix no room to argue, "you will spend half your day with him, studying and helping in whatever way you can. Then you shall come to me, and I shall teach you how to behave like a lady. The rest of the day you may amuse yourself. Until we find your behavior satisfactory you will attend no parties or dinners of any kind." Mrs. Black's tone brooked no argument. "And hopefully I'll find you a husband soon enough."
Narcissa knew Bellatrix wouldn't take kindly to that. She always wanted to be doing something, but her restless escapades had yet to find any real cause. Bellatrix never did things half-heartedly; what she did, she did well, with all the passion and enthusiasm possible. Yet, for the time being at least, Mrs. Black had quelled her daughter's antics.
Not that Bellatrix would obey entirely. Her father's favorite, she could twist him around in a way no one, other than Mrs. Black, could influence the Black patriarch. Though if he knew of some of his daughter's activities…well, Narcissa had only heard the rumors. The things that went on in Slytherin House would have shocked many a former member; surely even Bellatrix would be more circumspect.