DISCLAIMER: The ideas are mine, the characters, sadly are not.
"I always felt insecure and in the way, but most of all I felt scared. I guess I always wanted love more than anything else in the world."
Marilyn Monroe
Chapter 2 - 1960
By 1960, it was understood that I was old enough to accompany the family to an official function. I was three years old then, and no longer stumbling upon my own legs as I walked, already begging for a toy broomstick as a present. Not because I really wanted one – the farthest thing from it, actually, to be honest, the idea of flying frightened me a little – but both my sisters had their own broomsticks and I did not wish to be left behind.
I was the last one to get ready, and the entire family watched as I walked in the fireplace room dressed in my new burgundy dress with a black silk belt and a black bow for my hair.
"Narcissa, fix your bow," mother said, almost as soon as I entered, and I tried, clumsily, to adjust my bow, not quite knowing what was wrong with it.
"Here, Cissa," aunt Walburga said, helping me with it and fixing the bow with a wave of her wand, "Doesn't she look beautiful, Cygnus?"
"Like a princess," my father answered. It made me smile.
"Shall we go, then?" Uncle Orion asked, and in a few moments, we were on our way.
My father had made a significant donation in the name of the family to a new children's wing at St Mungus Hospital, and it was expected that we attended the inauguration. A high platform had been set up and that's where my mother and father stood, next to my two older sisters. Bella and Andy were part of the ceremony, as they would give one present each to two of the children who were hospitalized. It was a symbolic gesture, representing the donations and it followed my father's short but engaging speech as did the wave of applause and approval given by the crowd to his words.
I was considered too young to be on the stand, it was my first official function after all, and I watched from the side, along with my aunt and uncle. My sisters carried two big boxes adorned with large colourful bows and deposited them in front of two of the children in the front row, which again was followed by a round of applause. Secretly I was happy that I was not with them. I had never seen so many people before, and something about the crowd scared me. Before I knew, I was stepping back so that my back was pressed against my uncle's legs and I heard him whisper something I couldn't quite make out in his wife's years before he knelt down and placed one of his arms around me.
"Cissa, is everything okay?" he asked, and I nodded that it was, but he must have seen that I was scared because he didn't stand up. Instead, uncle Orion pulled me closer to him and pointed at the higher platform discreetly, while whispering to my ear: "There, see? That little girl is going to give the flowers to your mother. That symbolizes the people's gratitude to our family."
"It's a present," I said simply.
"Yes, a present. They are saying thanks to us, and your father in particular."
"Why?"
"Well, your father has donated gold that made it possible for the Hospital to build this wing. Now it will be possible for more children to get treatment here, and their care will improve, even if their families can't afford their treatments."
"But won't we run out of gold?" I asked, and I must have sounded concerned because my uncle laughed gently,
"No, princess," he whispered, kissing my face softly, "you don't ever have to worry about that. We're Black."
I watched as my mother waved, thanking the crowd for her flowers and sending the little girl away, thinking about my uncle's words. I was far too young to make sense of any of it, but I was trying to pay attention and remember his words. Mostly because repeating what the grown-ups said to my sisters made me feel quite grown myself.
"See that?" My uncle continued, pointing at my father and Bella, together, disclosing a new oil painting in the wall, and a silver plaque that read 'The Arcturus Wing', "that's a portrait of your great-uncle Arcturus."
"Arcturus," I repeated, looking at the man, and I remember thinking that he looked very young
"He was my father. When I was about your age, he taught me that the House of Black is special, that we are different from the common crowd. Ordinary men do not have to worry about using their gold to build hospital wings but we do have a responsibility to make our world better. It is because of that that the people respect our line and birth."
Father was busy shaking hands with the Hospital director while a photographer of the Daily Prophet took their picture. He did seem very impressive up there, but he was impressive most of the time, at least to me. I looked up at my uncle, still holding on to his right hand and saw him pulling aunt Walburga closer and kissing her lips softly. I squeezed his hand a little tighter and he stroke my hair gently…
Now my father had his hand on Bella's shoulder as they posed for a photograph. She looked very much like him, with her long dark curls and charming smile. Beauty was a hereditary trait in our family. The Blacks were tall, lean, well built, and so obviously noble it was not rare for lesser people to behave lowly in our presence. Even Sirius, who was but a baby at the time, too small even to be brought to that event, had dark, meaningful eyes, and in the years that followed he would prove to be a Black by his appearance if nothing else.
My sisters too had inherited those darkly handsome traits, and I often grieved for looking so much like my mother. I wanted to be beautiful. Although my appearance had something aristocratic as well - no one could deny that - I lacked the long, lustrous, dark hair, the dark eyes, and that casualness of elegance that others found so attractive. The one trait I did share, which was undeniably hereditary, was unfortunately not quite as visible as the others: a proud, dark heart, filled with prohibited emotions and dangerous memories.
A/N: Thank you for reading. Please, consider reviewing and giving me some feedback.
Live Long and Prosper