Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter series.
Morning
The house was silent.
Only the ticking of a distant clock sounded through the empty halls, as if time could go on.
In many regards, the morning progressed normally. Narcissa ate breakfast with her mother and father, owls delivered letters, and the sun rose. But with each minute that passed, the house grew more silent and more restless.
Narcissa avoided her parents' eyes as she ate without tasting. She knew that if Druella and Cygnus really saw her face, they would know just how long into the night she had cried. Then they would ask Narcissa if she knew of Bellatrix's location, as if Bella had left the family, not Andromeda.
Narcissa grimaced.
Don't think about it; don't think about anything.
Was it Narcissa's imagination, or did the ticking clock grow louder? It must be a lie, surely, that time could pass without batting an eye to the Black's fallen star. Narcissa knew it was mad, but oh how she envied time. For time would move on; Narcissa would not.
Bellatrix then appeared in the fireplace, as if from the dead, and stepped from the flames to face the remains of her family. Jolted by the fourth and final presence, Narcissa and her parents stood.
"Where have you been," Druella hissed.
It seemed that, in the midst of this trauma, Druella had forgotten Bella no longer lived with them. Or else she had assumed Bellatrix would not leave the house in such heightened crisis.
Bella opened her mouth. Narcissa waited, needed to hear Bella speak. But no sound came from Bellatrix's parted lips. Instead, she stood like a guilty thing.
Cygnus slammed his fist upon the table and glared at Bellatrix. She avoided his gaze, stared blankly at Narcissa. Narcissa looked closely at her sister and those dark burning eyes. But Bella's eyes revealed nothing; only the long shadows underneath told Narcissa that Bellatrix had not slept.
"Bellatrix," Cygnus snarled. "Look at me."
Bella flinched, shut her eyes for a moment, then turned to face her father.
Cygnus left his spot at the table to close the distance between himself and his eldest daughter.
Bellatrix did not back away from his stormy approach but stood as if anything could happen to her and she would not care. He frowned into her face. Narcissa could see the anger rising in her father's cheeks, surfacing in his black eyes.
He gritted his teeth, said in a whisper, "I thought I told you last night not to go looking for her."
A noise escaped Bella's lips. It might have been protest, resentment, helplessness. It was not, however, an apology.
Cygnus struck his daughter's face.
"Stupid girl."
Even as Bellatrix stood, rigid and ready to take the blows Cygnus longed to deal to Andromeda, Narcissa shrunk with fear. Tiny pricks of white, pure hatred for her father shot through Narcissa.
Cygnus turned his hand, struck Bella again.
"Do you want to cause this family further disgrace?" he roared.
Narcissa glanced hopefully at her mother to stop Cygnus, but Druella stood like a statue, cold, unfeeling, incapable.
Bella's eyes and lips were closed as though she hoped to block any emotion from escaping as she shook her head fiercely to answer her father.
"And then a letter from my sister, wherein she tells me you spent the dawn sitting in front of the tapestry, and yet you left without removing that blemish from our family's tree?"
Bellatrix's face paled, and Narcissa knew that Bella had hoped to keep this information from her father.
"Were you really incapable of such elementary magic, or did you feel it acceptable to neglect your duty?"
In the silence that followed this accusation, Bellatrix glanced in Narcissa's direction. Narcissa knew Bella's reason, and it felt like falling with no promise of hitting solid ground. Bella had hoped Andromeda would return before the night ended.
Narcissa felt hot blotches of water staining her cheek and feared her mother's scolding. What Narcissa hadn't expected and what hurt worse than her mother's reproof, was Bella when she registered her little sister beginning to cry and then quickly looked away. Narcissa sunk into her chair and buried her face in her hands. Maybe she could smother herself and make this all a dream.
"Cygnus," said Druella's crisp, clear voice. "You must attend to the tapestry immediately. Now, our only chance to save face is to act quickly."
Through her fingers, Narcissa saw her father nod.
"Bella will see to that, won't she?" Cygnus ordered.
With a gulp imperceptible but to the clinging eyes of Narcissa, Bellatrix nodded.
Cygnus's hand closed around Bella's wrist, and he pulled her to the fireplace.
"You know, of course, what you must do, Druella," he said.
Druella, like her husband, nodded.
"Send the owl to the Prophet first. Give them whatever sum they need; we cannot have this disgrace publicized to every wizarding family in England."
He stepped into the grate, threw down his pinch of Floo Powder, and said, "Number 12, Grimmauld Place."
Bellatrix followed.
Narcissa watched the spot from where her sister had vanished.
"Narcissa," Druella's voice interrupted.
In her mother's slicing tone, Narcissa found no sympathy, just unwavering emotionlessness.
"You are to write Lucius, inform him you would like to have tea and over which explain that your unfortunate connection to this betrayal should have no lasting effect on his opinion of you."
Narcissa gaped at her mother. Narcissa needed words of comfort, gentility, even blatant denial that Andromeda's departure had occurred. But instead, Druella gave Narcissa nothing. How could she stand there, Narcissa wondered, and view the passing of a daughter without a single feeling?
A strange rift tore between them. If Druella noticed at that moment she did not acknowledge it. Narcissa, however, felt the division like a knife's cut, just a sliver but still able to draw copious drops of blood.
"And?"
Narcissa hoped her mother might see her daughter's pained expression and weaken enough to hug Narcissa, to take care of her, to love her in the absence of Andromeda's love.
Druella spoke. "That is all."
Narcissa stomped through the room, hating her mother and father, wishing Bella wouldn't have ignored her.
Anger tensed Narcissa as she yanked open her desk drawer to procure a quill and parchment. But anger at least blocked the sense of loss, if only for a moment.
Narcissa's first letter to Lucius lacked her usual eloquence and care, so she crumpled the sheet and began again. But nothing Narcissa wrote made sense. The third time, Narcissa settled for retransmitting her mother's words practically verbatim. With a huff of frustration at having been ordered around so, Narcissa sent the owl and stared without seeing outside her window.
Narcissa liked Lucius, a lot. Sometimes she knew she even loved him.
But never could she imagine herself choosing Lucius over either her sisters, let alone both.
Andromeda had, though. Andromeda chose a mudblood over her sisters.
The thought, whenever it attacked Narcissa's vulnerable mind as it did now, weakened her legs and made her arms tingle. Narcissa swallowed hard, pressed a shaky hand against her clammy forehead. She found it difficult to breathe in anything but short, shallow inhales.
Narcissa wasn't even of age, but felt the body workings of an old woman. She steadied herself against her bedpost. But then she caught sight of the picture frame on her nightstand. Three girls danced within the glass frame, grinning, oblivious, happy, together. Narcissa's knees buckled.
She fell to the ground with a cry of overwhelming despair. Tears leaked from her eyes as she flung her hands against the floor. Narcissa knew she was a portrait of her younger self in a tantrum, kicking, screaming, clawing, crying. But she didn't care. She couldn't help herself. This time, the tantrum was warranted.
"How dare you," she sputtered at the picture frame. "How could you?"
Narcissa crawled to her nightstand and grabbed the picture. She shook the frame with her anger, but the sisters of the captured past remained infuriatingly undisturbed. Narcissa stood with a scream, stalked to her window, and threw the photograph to the ground.
She heard the glass shatter against the stone pathway that led into the garden.
"Traitor," she sobbed.
But Narcissa had been raised above such theatrics, and she felt her cheeks grow warm with embarrassment at the thought of anyone stumbling across the shattered frame that had fallen from her window.
So Narcissa ran to the garden's opening and kneeled in the pile of broken glass. She collected the shards in her hands, not as though they were crystals, but just as glass. Glass that could protect a framed memory, but couldn't make it last forever. Glass that was transparent and hid no mysteries. Glass that could, and did, cut Narcissa's hands.
Narcissa remembered the photo only when a gust of hot wind blew the frame's former contents past her into the garden.
Narcissa discarded the grass amongst a rosebush as she stood, chased the picture until she clutched it in her fingers.
The contents of the photo mocked her, and Narcissa considered ripping it to shreds and throwing those remnants behind the same rosebush. But she didn't.
A voice, and it might have been Andromeda's voice, spoke sadly to Narcissa.
You'll want it. When Mother and Father and Bella have burned every other photograph, you'll need this.
Narcissa winced, because she knew the truth behind the thought.
She folded the picture in half to avoid seeing Meda's smile and Bella's laughter and Cissy's naivety. Narcissa tucked the photograph within the folds of her dress, and it became the first secret she would keep from Bella.
Narcissa turned to face the house, lamented the idea of being in it alone. But when she reentered, a presence rested in the air. Mother had hurried to the house of her birth to begin covering the social damages done by Andromeda's leaving, Father was at Grimmauld Place, Bellatrix as well. But someone was inside the house.
Narcissa's heart raced.
Don't be foolish, Narcissa. It will only hurt more if you think she's coming back.
But was it so foolish?
"Andromeda?" Narcissa whispered.
Narcissa could hear only her heart pounding through her body. But then, from above, the creaking of boards as someone walked the floor of Andromeda's bedroom. Narcissa hesitated a moment, then rushed at the stairs. She took them two at a time, spun around the corner, raced down the hall to Andromeda's room, flung open the door.
Bella.
"Bella," she choked.
But Bellatrix did not hear Narcissa's feeble call. And how could she? For Bella was crying.
Narcissa stood, unable to move, in the frame of her fallen sister's bedroom door and listened to Bella howl like a wounded animal. Suddenly, Narcissa longed for the maddening silence of the early morning.
Bellatrix didn't cry, yet here she was crumpled on Andromeda's bed as if she knew nothing to do but to cry. The realization crushed Narcissa. Bella always knew what to do.
Narcissa entered as loudly as possible. She hoped that Bella would hear the noise and cease her crying to adopt an appearance of, well, anything but this. But Bella didn't stop. Perhaps she was convinced she was alone in the house. Perhaps she just didn't care.
Now Narcissa stood next to the bed and ached to reach Bellatrix, to beg attention, to assuage her own grief. Bella's sobbed with her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth stretched open as she gulped for breath between each outcry. Narcissa felt her stomach twist unpleasantly. Bella looked so small curled up as she was, drawn into herself as if to block out the world.
Bella's misery escalated in volume and pitch. Narcissa's heart, if possible, broke further as she watched who was now her only sister. Tears slipped down her face, but she ignored them. Longing to possess better comfort, Narcissa reached out her hand to Bella. Narcissa's fingers hovered a moment, then stroked the damp hair from Bellatrix's face.
The touch startled Bella, and she stopped her crying with a series of gasping hiccups. Bellatrix craned her neck backwards to determine the face of her comforter. But even through tears, Narcissa saw the pang of enormous disappointment that welled in Bella's eyes. She had not found whom she had wanted to see.
"I'm sorry, Bella, I'm sorry," Narcissa croaked as her sister fell into weeping.
Bellatrix no longer howled, but still her body shook with the weight of her sadness.
Because Narcissa needed to hold onto something as her world spun madly off axis, and because Bellatrix couldn't provide comfort, Narcissa latched onto Bella. From behind, Narcissa wrapped her arms around Bellatrix's waist and buried her face in Bella's hair. When Bella's body shook more jaggedly, Narcissa held tighter.
A tiny, persistent, childish part of Narcissa longed to be held rather than to hold so that she might receive the comfort she needed. Narcissa hid under the curtains of Bella's hair and hoped she should never have to deal again with the world.
"Please, Bella, please," Narcissa mewed against her sister's neck. She spoke from a lifetime of knowing nothing but the absolute protection and love of two sisters. "Make it all better."
Narcissa didn't think Bellatrix had heard the plea, and perhaps it was for the better. Silly whining and begging would not reconcile a broken house, would not restore two sisters to the former grandeur or three.
But then Bella untangled herself from Narcissa's grip and rolled over to face her little sister. Tears no longer stained Bella's face, but where they had fallen they had washed away the face of Narcissa's older sister, and Narcissa gazed into the face of a woman she did not know.
"Cissy," Bellatrix said hoarsely, "She's gone."
Author's Note: Did anybody else have difficulties coming to terms with the end of DH Part Two? *sniff* I was feeling the pains of losing Bella, so I had to write this. Timeline check in case it wasn't obvious, morning after Andromeda leaves (see chapter 30). Thanks for your reviews, favorites, alerts; I appreciate them so much.