Oh hey, another update! Miracle of miracles!
"Daddy! DADDY!"
The yell was angry, panicked, and shrill.
"DADDY!"
Similar to the squawk of an extremely offended bird. However, one wouldn't be very far off with that description.
"DADDDDDDDYYYYY-!"
"What, Narcissa, what?! What is it, what's wrong? What do you need?" Cygnus Black stormed into the sewing room, throwing the double doors open, his manner speaking of being a hassled father ill-prepared to handle the daughters derived from his reckless loins.
"What I need is a better seamstress!" Narcissa snarled, her face looking unusually avian as she flung a pile of burning fabric on top of the guest seamstress, who screamed in terror as she stumbled back from the raging Black progeny.
"Narcissa, dear, please! You're being unreasonable!" The Black patriarch cried out despairingly as the seamstress fled the room sobbing, her red hair burned into a fragile crisp. The half veela sneered in disdain as the portly young woman ran.
"I'm being unreasonable? This is the second most important dress in my life; second only to my wedding gown, and I'm being unreasonable?! That woman is a hag! I don't care how pristine her blood is; she clearly knows nothing of pureblood fashions!" The blonde flung a fist of fire at the pure white carpet, setting it smoldering and charring it with black.
"Narcissa, this carpet was just replaced after your sister's cotillion fitting, is it really necessary to be so destructive?" Cygnus said exasperatedly, sliding into an arm chair by the fireplace.
"I'll be as destructive as I like!" she growled, setting the curtains alight for good measure. "My cotillion is in two days, and I don't have a dress!"
Cygnus threw his hands up helplessly. "I don't know what to tell you dear, what do you want me to do? Do you want a portkey to Paris in the morning? I can have it arranged."
"No! I'm the most beautiful, most powerful, most wealthy, young pureblood on the market; I will not have an off-the-rack dress at my cotillion: that's out of the question!"
"So I'll get you a portkey to Peruzzo's shop in Milan instead," the older man rubbed his temples.
"I just wore Perruzzo's to the Gala; it won't do!" she whined, pulling at her hair in frustration.
"So whomever the hip designer is in Florence, Venice, Paris, Moscow, Madrid, Tokyo, New York; I don't care! Whoever you need, I'll pay them to make a house call, I'll get you a portkey, I'll send you by international floo; whatever your little heart desires! Just tell me what you want, pumpkin!"
"I want fame! I want power, I want opulence! I want pearls from the Caribbean seas, emeralds from Columbia, diamonds from the Canary Islands, and sapphires the size of my fist! I want perfection! I want to be envied, to be desired! Some fat, pregnant, ginger little nothing won't give me that!"
"Then who will, princess?" Cygnus asked desperately. "Who will?! Just say the word, and I promise you you'll have your dress by tomorrow! All I need is a name!"
She sighed, frustrated. "Daddy, you have good taste and good discretion. All of the measurements you could possibly need are on that parchment-," she gestured. "I want dresses to pick from by the time I wake up tomorrow. I don't care if you give them time turners or what, but I want my dress tomorrow; I don't care what it takes." With that, the blonde left the room, dressing robe drawn tightly about her as she left for sleep.
Cygnus sighed despairingly, picking up the parchment with Narcissas measurements before trudging to the nearest hearth. "To Onassis Design, New York," he sighed, whisked away in a swirl of green smoke; the first trip of many to be made that night.
Sunlight poked cautiously through the sapphire sheers that decked a certain blonde's windows. It crept slowly, stealthily, carefully over the white marble floors, across the cream plaster, and finally set slowly upon the bed. It slid over yards and yards of cream and bronze coverlet, trekked over mountains of decorative pillows, trickled over a blonde braid, pale hands, a fair collarbone, and finally set upon a delicate, peaceful face.
Blue eyes snapped open.
So much for peaceful.
In a flurry of movement, Narcissa sat up and flung off her bedcovers, squiggling over to the side and jumping out of bed. With a flick of her hand she flung open the curtains fully and set a fire crackling in the grate. Cygnus started, nearly falling out of the arm chair he'd been dozing in. "Your dresses are in the sewing room, pumpkin…," he mumbled, settling back into the deep recesses of the chair.
"Thank you, Daddy," Narcissa skipped across the marble, setting a kiss upon her fathers cheek. He smiled wearily, snuggling down into the cushion. Another motion summoned a throw to her, which she wrapped about her father before dashing out.
Narcissa felt giddy with glee and anticipation, practically skipping down the hall and up two flights of stairs before throwing the doors to her sewing room open with a bang. And at the sight before her, all anger, frustration, and anxiety vanished, and her breath drew in with an audible gasp. Lithe, tiny feet crossed the carpet slowly, and her pale fingers brushed over the dress in question. As soon as she set her eyes upon it, she just knew that it was the dress. The perfect dress. This was the only dress she'd seen that she knew would be elegant, tasteful, beautiful, and most of all, befitting of the one and only Narcissa Persephone Black. Now there was nothing to worry about. Her cotillion would surely be the social event of the year for all of society to attend.
And the after party… Well, there won't be words to describe it.
She smiled wickedly and dashed away to sketch out designs for her hair as well as an outfit for her private after party. She was a Black, after all. There are very few things in life that a Black isn't the best in, and Narcissa was making damn sure that throwing the biggest celebrations and looking the best were included on the long list of Black superiority.
Well… Tonight's the night.
The only fair-haired Black sister stood perfectly still, elevated on a small circular podium that was levitating gently off the ground. She was spinning slowly and steadily, half a dozen seamstresses doing last minute, final-fitting details. Jacqueline Onassis herself surveyed the activity, her foot tapping impatiently as her wand swished through the air, moving fabric about for pinning, trimming, or embellishing. Narcissa recalled vaguely that she was married to some wealthy, powerful politician in the states. She wracked her brain to try and gather the name- John something. Something Irish. O'Kennan? Kently? Kennigan? Something with a 'k'. But no matter, no time to worry over foreign politicians. This was her night, her cotillion, her formal entrance into society as the beautiful, graceful debutante and socialite she had been raised to be. She smiled to herself, nerves apparent to everyone in the room.
Miss Onassis laughed beautifully. "Narcissa my dear, relax. You're going to look lovely once you're ready. There aren't very many women who have looks to compete with yours, dear, and as far as designers and hairstylists, you have the best money can buy." Jacqueline smiled calmly. "You will be fine, I assure you. And if there's a single woman out there who looks even half as lovely as you do, I'll hand in my shears. Stop worrying, darling. Just put those nerves away, put your head up, and smile: it's your night, make the most of it." She carefully lowered the podium, shooing her assistants away from the blonde as she inspected her critically.
"Spin," she demanded.
Narcissa spun.
"Beautiful," Jackie smiled warmly. "Just as I knew you'd look. Now, I need to change myself if I want to be ready on time. Off to a hairstylist with you; go!"
Narcissa's mother swept in, looking anxious and agitated, her hair whipping about. "Oh good, you 'ave feenished. Magnifique!" She smiled softly at the sight of her daughter, eyes welling up with tears. "Tu as très belle, ma cherie." She quickly dabbed at the corner of her eyes. "Now, off to do ze 'air. You know where to go. 'Urry up, zere is precious little time!" The blonde stepped off the pedestal slowly and gracefully, the train of her dress glimmering in her wake as she made her way to the vanity.
Jacqueline smiled softly at her as she left, with her mother not far behind. Then she regarded her seamstresses, her look more severe. "Well?" she arched one perfect brunette eyebrow. "What are you waiting for? I'm not known as a fashion-plate for nothing. Dress me, you idiots!"
The parlor doors opened gently before her, and the people in the room drew breath with an audible gasp. Servants and stylists who had been busying about all came to an abrupt halt to stop and stare at the youngest Black. A few instruments and potions fell to the ground, and mouths stood agape. "Mi-miss Black… You look marvelous already."
Narcissa smirked, flipping her long, straight hair over her shoulder. "I'm sorry, did you expect anything less?" She sauntered over to the large vanity and carefully seated herself on the bench before the mirror. Instantly, an older with appeared behind her, and began straightening out her hair so it lay down her back.
"The sketch we agreed upon previously, correct Miss Black?" A parchment floated in front of Narcissa for her approval.
"Correct."
"Excellent," the stylist whipped out her wand, a smile on her face. "Let's get started, then."
Meanwhile, the party was just beginning to gear up. Guests were apparating just outside the wards of Black Estate, or arriving by carriage. A large staff of hired witches and wizards, all in black robes bearing the Black family crest, were taking care to open the carriage doors, welcome the guests, take the carriages away, and usher the guests through the gates and down the path to the mansion itself. The gates were open invitingly, soft ivy threaded through the ironwork with all kinds of pixies and faeries floating about, giggling softly in the cool winter night. The long path through the grounds was lit by faeries, bewitched hinky-punks, and floating torches. Strolling slowly along the edges of the path were Antipodean Opaleye dragon youths, released from Narcissa's breeding center for the evening. While most of the dragons she kept were markedly aggressive towards strangers, the youth tend to be smaller and less aggressive, and since the Opaleye is such a beautiful sight (what, with glittering white scales, jewel-like eyes, and a pure red flame jet), the family thought they would serve well as security for the event as well as impressive and unique decorations.
A jet of red flames hit the wards around the path keeping the dragons away from the guests and arched overhead, singeing some nearby branches. Even though the flames had been kept a good three feet away from them, the heat was intense. Walden shrieked, Lucius snickered, and an electric blue pixie giggled nastily and zoomed away.
The two had been allowed to arrive separately from their families, as they needed to make 'a more solid impression' on the Blacks. They were, after all, in formal pursuit of courting Narcissa, whether they liked it or not. "Stupid dragon…," Walden muttered. The pair arrived at the huge front doors, held open by two older wizards. The men smiled, bowing dutifully at the two guests as they passed through the entrance into the foyer. The pair made their way down the long hallway to the main ballroom, a journey that was all too familiar from the Winter Gala only days before. Before they knew it, they were before another set of doors, these ones the dark cherry wood doors to the ballroom. Two more servants smiled gently, opening the doors for them and allowing them into the festivities.
While traditionally the Winter Gala is the biggest social event the Blacks host each year, this had to be much bigger. It was the cotillion for their youngest daughter, and considering the disgrace Andromeda was, it needed to be mind-blowing. The ballroom was crowded with a virtual whos-who of the magical world- the current minister, campaign hopefuls, visiting heads of state with their translators and bodyguards, foreign socialites, supermodels, actors, singers, aristocracy, and a representatives of most of England's old money. Anyone who was anyone was in attendance. But before either of the two young wizards could take stock of much else, the clock struck nine, and the doors on the opposite side of the ballroom slowly opened.
In came Narcissa, who was without contest the most beautiful woman in the room. Necks practically snapped and camera bulbs flashed as everyone tried to get a good look. She was dressed in a body tight gown, one that hugged her in all the right places and flared out delicately around the knees in a trailing, three foot train. In the back, the gown was corseted with a chain made of gold and yellow sapphires, which was thin enough to show a generous expanse of creamy white back. But, more remarkable than the revealing back, or even Narcissa's lovely figure the dress unabashedly showed, was the utter extravagance. Every inch of fabric was covered in tiny little diamonds. The whole dress glittered, her whole body shining in the light, almost making her appear slicked with water. Her blonde hair was partially pinned into a delicately coifed and curled updo, speckled with precious gems cut into butterflies and flowers, bewitched to move. The rest of the blonde hair tumbled over one shoulder in soft, delicate curls. She smiled beautifully, proud and graceful and certainly the center of attention.
But something wasn't quite right.
"Who the hell is that?" Lucius muttered to his companion.
Rather than her father escorting her in, she was on another mans arm. He was tall, thin, and pale, dressed in entirely black dress robes. His dark brown hair was nearly black, and its soft waves were in a side part. His face was severe: sharp cheekbones, thin lips, pointed chin, a defined bony nose, and most notably, blood red eyes that just poured out despair and emptiness, as if there was no soul behind them. Something about him just bespoke death and destruction, of children screaming for their mothers, of monsters and predators and the big, bad wolf. Something about this man was terribly, terribly wrong.
"I told you he would be here!" Rodolphus whispered fanatically, suddenly just behind Lucius's shoulder. "That's him, the wizard I told you about! The Dark Lord Voldemort!"
Something wicked, this way comes…