Toujours Pur
A/N: If reading honestly portrayed Marauders sickens you, this story may cause migraines, nausea, cataplexy, and/or fever-enduced hallucinations, depending on the severity of your condition. Read at your own discretion.
And although we originally said this story would be completely canon-compliant, we changed our minds. We are creatures of inconsistency, devotees of spontaneousness and completely ruled by our whims. This story will, however, be mostly canon-compliant, as we are only changing a few minuscule details. If little purmosefully-made mistakes bother you, this story may trigger panic-enduced comas, seisures, a slight aching of hands and feet and in rare cases, death has occurred, brought about by a severe heart-attack.
-Helenia Rowan-
II: Reputation
Outside the walls of Black Manor, Narcissa Black was the epitome of pureblood nobility. She was slender, petite and delicate, with long blonde hair, icy-blue eyes, and flawlessly smooth, pale skin-at least, glamours made it appear so. But like her sister Bellatrix, Narcissa lacked one trait, subservience. Unlike Bellatrix however, Narcissa waited. Where her sister retorted with defiantly vituperative soliloquies and quick fiery temper, Narcissa handed out compliments, woven of double-edged malice and icily sweet tones. These she coupled with stony, frigid silence. She had received many a Crucio and almost every bone in her body had been broken at least once, but she refused to relinquish her will. If Bellatrix could fight, Narcissa knew that she could as well.
Narcissa had been practically catatonic after Bellatrix was carried away on the scarlet Hogwarts Express. She'd stopped eating, for which Druella was immensely pleased. But she'd also stopped practicing piano, dance, and all other means of etiquette a pureblood trophy wife was expected to embody, not that she was remotely inclined to be any such thing. It had taken Cygnus carving the words "useless prissy bitch" into the flesh of her chest with a white-hot silver dagger, before Narcissa began functioning again albeit filled with bitter loathing. She hadn't told Bellatrix, for her eldest sister would surely murder their parents there and then, and Andromeda was too scared to say anything; the middle child would not even utter words of comfort. The scars still remained engraved into Narcissa's flesh, Druella and Cygnus refused to even attempt erasing them, stating, "That is your lesson Narcissa, I'm sure you will be able to explain them to your future husband."
When Andromeda had left for Hogwarts, Narcissa was the soul victim of Druella's displeasure and Cygnus's drunken rage. Although, Cygnus was just as violent while stone sober; Narcissa learned to skulk through shadows and tread lightly.
As months passed, Narcissa hated Andromeda more and more; said girl always returned with boistrous retellings of pranks pulled by the Marauders, a Hogwarts gang made up of four raucous Gryffindors including their cousin, Sirius, and how many Slytherins she'd made cry. Bellatrix however, always embraced Narcissa first, slipping the girl pieces of chocolate. Then she'd look Narcissa over, and Narcissa would cringe, because she knew that her sister could probably see through the glamours Druella had erected. As Andromeda grew older, Narcissa was practically non-existent compared to Sirius and the Marauders; it seemed as though Andromeda didn't spare her a thought. But Bellatrix never forgot Narcissa's birthday, however, and always spent time with her youngest sister when she was home from school.
When Narcissa's Hogwarts letter arrived, it was Bellatrix who found it first.
"Cissy," the now fifteen-year-old girl whispered, creeping into Narcissa's bedroom and gently shaking her awake.
"It's over," she murmured, holding out the letter.
Bellatrix smiled for the both of them as Narcissa grasped the letter in trembling hands. She moved to shut the door so her sister could open it in peace, and took a glance in the mirror. Whereas glamour only accentuated Narcissa's natural ethereality, all it did for Bellatrix was make her look mean and sinister. Her skin was pale, almost bone-white, but her hair and eyes were as dark as it was possible for hair and eyes to be. And her hair didn't even curl pleasantly, Bellatrix thought she could live with the color if it did that; it just hung down her back in a river of midnight.
Narcissa met her sister's gaze in the mirror and smiled serenely. Right then, she looked every bit the pureblood aristocrat she was brought up to be, eyes cold and cutting, blonde hair flowing just so. Even without glamours to conceal her scars, Narcissa Black was truly an exquisitely carved statue of picturesque elegance. Together, she and Bellatrix would have the whole world in their fiery, icy clutches.
When the sun rose, Narcissa donned a sleeveless ankle-length gown of pale-blue gossamer silk, the sort of dress Bellatrix would never touch. With the help of her sister, she brushed her curtains of blonde tresses into a waist-length sheet of gold. She fastened the carving of a silver serpent about her slender neck (a gift from Bellatrix), gathered up her Hogwarts letter, and swept down the staircase. The rest of the family was already seated as Bellatrix and Narcissa took their respective places.
"Hello girls," Druella greeted with a saccharine smile.
Cygnus put down his newspaper.
"You received your letter." The patriarch spoke in a flat monotone, dark eyes boring into Narcissa.
"I did," Narcissa replied emotionlessly, while excitement simmered just beneath the surface.
Andromeda groaned dramatically, wrinkling her nose in disgust.
"Don't even think about hanging with my friends and I, Prissy," Andromeda sneered. "I don't want your pureblood Death Eater self tainting them."
Druella pressed her lips together in a thin line of disapproval, and Cygnus nearly shattered his teacup with the force his grip exhibited. But they had given up on Andromeda long ago.
Narcissa's face remained icily impassive as she spoke:
"I am so proud of you, Andi, for managing to utter such garrulous prattle without choking on the hypocrisy spewing forth from those ever so divine lips you possess. I suppose your stunted maturity has caused you to believe Gryffindor means Holy. And tell me dear sister, have you sold your virginity off to that Mudblood yet?"
The line of Druella's pursed lips grew thinner. Cygnus glared, saying crossly, "That's enough Andromeda."
Bellatrix smirked at Andromeda who glared furiously.
Druella sent a cutting hex at Narcissa, but said girl visibly betrayed nothing, instead reaching for a strawberry tart.
"Narcissa!" Druella bit out harshly.
Narcissa's eyes flashed, ice-blue pools of frigid difiance staring at Druella, unblinking. She lifted the pastry to her lips, but Druella's hand shot out, closing around Narcissa's slim wrist with talon-like nails.
"Take one bite, and I reak every bone in your hand," Druella hissed. "Bellatrix is simply psychotic, and Andromeda is a Mudblood loving Blood Traitor. I'll not have you disgracing our family further Narcissa, no man wants a fat cow for a wife."
Narcissa's angry retort was cut off when the fireplace flared to life and a house-elf announced the arrival of Abraxas Malfoy. Cygnus swore, and Druella gave Narcissa a look that promised retribution, before both parents stood and left to greet their guest.
Andromeda sent Narcissa a smug, disdainful sneer so like Druella's and muttered "fat cow" under her breath, mocking Narcissa with degradingly crass hand gestures, eyes looking pointedly down to Narcissa's flat stomach and thin waist.
Tears sprang to Narcissa's eyes. What if Andromeda and Mother were right? Was she truly a fat cow, too difiant and ugly for a man? Bellatrix glared.
Narcissa stood, glaring at Andromeda with a look that could freeze fire as shame flooded her features. Then, she stormed out of the breakfast room, up the stairs, and into her bedroom. After closing the dor with a soft click that belied her bitter anger, she allowed sobs to rack her thin frame. Her Hogwarts letter lay abandoned on the table, forgotten.
"HOW DARE YOU MENTION THAT. OF ALL THINGS TO Mention AND YOU PICK THAT!"
Narcissa heard Bellatrix yell at the top of her voice. Then, she heard a thud, as though Bellatrix were shoving Andromeda against a wall.
"What do you mean? Stop it, Bella, this hurts," Andromeda whined, probably trying to pull free of Bellatrix's nails, the pressing of her pointed elbows, the general weight (which wasn't much), pinning Andromeda into the wood panelling. "And I wasn't trying to hurt her, honest, I just wanted to have some fun, honest…"
Narcissa composed herself and crept to the top of the stairs to watch, and sure enough, there was Bellatrix, twisting Andromeda's pale arms.
"Bella-" Andromeda started again, but Bellatrix cut her off.
"No," she hissed venomously, "you lost the right to call me Bella years ago. Look at our sister one night, when Mother takes off all that glamour. Just look, Andromeda, and when you do, tell me why a man wouldn't want her. It's not because she'll be fat, oh no, she was always going to be pretty, it's because she's scarred and Mother is too damn proud to remove her and Father's handy-work. But I'm going to get her out of here. I will NOT let Mother or Father ruin her chances of a good life. And you won't make my job harder by bringing up Death Eaters, will you, Andromeda?" Bellatrix's voice took on the almost flirtatious tones it did at most of the balls Mother made the girls attend, but her expression was flirtation's polar opposite. Her face was contorted with anger and hate.
"Bellatrix, have you joined?" Andromeda asked timidly, once her sister let her go.
"Course not," Bellatrix replied, curling her lip in disgust, "Avery smells, Rabastan Lestrange is cruel and Rodolphus is stupid. Why would I want to be seen with them?"
Andromeda looked like she was going to say more, but Abraxas Malfoy stepped back into the room, adjusting his cloak about his shoulders, and Andromeda was forced to be quiet and polite, retreating to a corner.
Narcissa descended the stairs smoothly, wearing a mask of polite hospitality as she entered the room and dipped a graceful curtsy to the Malfoy patriarch. Then, she lifted one of Abraxas's hands and bestowed his palm a feather-light kiss. Abraxas gave her a genuine smile, and Narcissa's chest contorted with longing. She wished Cygnus had given her that look, wished that this Abraxas Malfoy were her father even though she'd just met him.
Dinner had been a strained affair. After Abraxas had finished his business with Cygnus and Druella, he departed via portkey. Cygnus locked himself in his study, tipping back vodka, after whisky, after gin, after cognac. Andromeda went off to her bedroom to owl Sirius and sulk, and Druella escorted Narcissa out of the house and to Diagon Alley. Bellatrix insisted on coming, but Druella used her wand to shut and lock the door. Bellatrix screamed death threats as Druella apparated herself and Narcissa away.
The two materialized outside the Leaky Cauldron, Druella clinging to Narcissa's arm so as to keep her tethered, so as to keep her from tumbling off into that unknowable void of nothingness one traveled through when apparating. Turning her daughter roughly to face her, Druella pointed her wand. Her hand was steady, wandtip aimed first at Narcissa's hair, and then moving slowly down her body, as though the wand were a Secrecy Scensor. As she moved the wand, she muttered the spell for Glamour, wrasping Narcissa in an elusion of exquisite elegance. Every scar appeared gone, as though it had never been there.
"Do not shame me," Druella seethed dangerously, her eyes holding a promise of pain. "or I swear I'll slit you open and see what's inside."
With a hand of steel, Druella steered Narcissa through the dingy pub, and into Diagon Alley after tapping the appropriate bricks with her wand. She deposited Narcissa in front of the nearest shop, Flourish & Blots. Narcissa moved her feet obediently, as resisting Druella's ministrations was futile.
"Find your books while I go into Knockturn to get a few things. I want you waiting here in one hour to buy your robes and such," Druella ordered coldly, forcing the Hogwarts shopping list into Narcissa's hand, along with a small pouch of gold. Without waiting for a response, Druella turned on her heel and glided down the winding street.
Narcissa held her head high as she swept into Flourish & Blots, coldly examining the shelves weighed down with books around her. She hadn't taken more than ten paces, however, when four of the last people she wanted to see strode into view. The Marauders, who'd been loudly and colloquially making fun of Severus Snape and then Bellatrix, repeatedly stating that they were "such filthy Death Eating pachydermic scum" (to put it cleanly, and in much more sophisticated language.) The four third-year boys stopped when they caught sight of Narcissa, except James Potter, who hadn't yet noticed.
"They probably eat a lot more than just death," James announced snidely, "I'll have to ask Bellabitch or Snivellus what prostituting for the Lord feels like. Unless they are his whores and do it for free-" James ran into Sirius's back and looked up, staring into the face of Narcissa Black, who wore an expression so similar to her sister's, that although they looked different, it wasn't hard to tell who she was.
Peter Pettigrew snickered, leaning in to whisper, "You're wrecked," into the ear of his friend.
Narcissa glided forward, icy rage emanating from her being, slender body poised, arms held in a deceptively calm manner.
James laughed. "What, are you gonna fight us?"
"James…" Peter said, unsure, "Come off it. That's Bellabitch's sister. Remember what Bellabitch said she'd do to you if you had anything to do with her?"
James laughed. "Bellabitch won't do anything," he said confidently, then turned to Narcissa, a challenge in his voice when he asked, "will she?"
"It shouldn't be that surprising," Narcissa murmured as if to herself, "that such filthy traitors never learned the proper use of language and grammar."
James took a menacing step forward, drawing his wand as he did so. Sirius stepped up next to his friend, sneering at Narcissa.
"Go on home Cissy, you wouldn't want to be seen and thrown into Azkaban," Sirius jeered at his cousin. "You might be mistaken for a Death Eater, or are you just a whore?"
Narcissa's eyes flashed.
"I am Narcissa to you, you've lost the right to address me with any name," she stated coldly, "you and Andromeda both." Narcissa flicked her eyes toward James contemptuously. "And sweetheart," Narcissa simpered in a voice dripping with poisoned honey, "gonna, isn't a word."
Remus turned his attention to a shelf of books, hiding his smirk.
"You're one to speak you filthy" James began but Narcissa cut him off.
"Filthy rich, properly raised pureblood maiden?" Narcissa asked rhetorically. "Accept darling," she added condescendingly, "It would be filthily rich. Do learn to conjugate, your atrocious grammar and redundant insults are quite unbecoming."
That was the last straw. James shoved his wand forward, a spell on his lips. How dare this little Death Eating wench! He hated her, she was a pureblood prissy who got all mad and bratty and spoiled and fat and… James could count every one of her ribs. But it was probably just a spell, he consoled himself, looking for any excuse to his behavior.
Quick as a viver, Narcissa's slim hand wrapped around James's wrist, nimble fingers squezzing, sharp nails digging into the indentations underneath one of his veins. With an undignified squawk, James relinquished hold of his wand to her. She turned it on him, holding the wand almost casually, as if she did this sort of thing every day of her life.
Sirius and Peter drew their wands, and as quickly and quietly as a shadow, Remus took their schoolbooks and went to pay for them without a word.
"You don't know what to do with that, bitch!" Peter Pettigrew exclaimed, staring Narcissa down with his small, watery eyes.
"If you want a bitch," Narcissa hissed, "why don't you pay Hagrid's dog a visit, Bella has told me all about Fang. It shouldn't really be a problem, the male genitalia."
"Finite!" Sirius yelled the first spell that came to mind. A smirk split his face as he imagined pimples and warts being revealed, wrinkly skin, flabby cheeks…
Panic flashed across Narcissa's face, and James's wand must have felt it. A volley of green and silver sparks issued forth from James's wandtip, showering over the Marauders and a few flying into one of James's eyes. Narcissa dropped the wand, trying to keep her composure as Sirius's spell tore at her glamours, revealing the scars that crisscrossed her skin.
And it wouldn't do to be seen like that, Narcissa thought, so dropping the wand, she did the only thing that felt natural to her. She ran until she reached the wand shop, Olivanders. She could start her shopping there, anyway. Icy fear coursed through her veins as she imagined Druella finding her in this state, the glamours she worked so hard to maintain in tatters. She bit her lip and forced herself to walk into the shop with head held high and face blanked of all emotions.