Melody | Narcissa Black

The Empty Space

Narcissa didn't notice it until early August. She had not looked at the family portrait in a very long time – it had, over the years, simply become part of the wall, something she was so used to that her eyes automatically skimmed over it. But out of the corner of her eye, she noticed an empty space. Frowning, Narcissa moved closer to the portrait. It was of the family, had been painted by Augustus Fawley, long ago when she had been a young child. 

The little people in the portrait rarely changed, and rarely left, but now, right between the sulking Bellatrix and smiling Narcissa on the sofa, there was no Andromeda.

Narcissa kept coming back the portrait over the next few days, which became weeks, until it was just before she was going back to school and Andromeda still had not returned to the painting. She knew better than to ask her mother, but her cousins came to visit with their mother in the first week of August. Twelve year old Sirius was in his parent's black books, both because he was in Gryffindor and because he had grown his hair out like his friend James', in what his father called "a nasty muggle style."

Orion gave him a dark look and told Narcissa to keep both he and his brother out of the adult's way, and looking for some advice, she showed them the space in the portrait.

Sirius was just as confused as she was, but Regulus spoke. "It's the disownment," he said, his eyes flicking back to the door of the drawing room in case the adults caught them looking at the portrait. "Because she isn't part of the family anymore."

Narcissa's chest did an odd painful squeeze. "Oh," she said quietly. "Of course."

She turned seventeen in the middle of the month. Her grandmother gave her a diamond bracelet, and warned her with strict instruction to only ever wear it on special occasions – it stayed locked in its little leather box. She insisted they should hold a party, and when Narcissa protested she didn't want one, her grandmother snapped that it wasn't for her, it was to preserve the integrity of a family name that the younger generations seemed to be intent on destroying. It had been a long time since a party had been held in the manor, but suddenly everything was alive again. Rooms that had been shut up were reopened, silverware polished by the house elves, floors swept. Rosanne ordered Narcissa a new set of dress robes in dusky pink, had her hair done in an elaborate twisted style, set off with a shining tiara. Narcissa stood looking at herself in the mirror, and felt nothing. There had been a time where she would have been delighted to play dress up, to wear fancy clothes and have her hair done, be paraded around like some stupid doll. Andromeda had been right, she thought, with a slight sinking of her heart. That's all they were at these parties. Dolls, paraded around for the men to leer at, for them to pick their wives. She was somewhat grateful to her mother from shielding her from it for so long. Still, as she stepped into the drawing room, she could feel the attention in the room slip onto her. She wished her hair was had been left lose. Her face felt horribly exposed without the curtain of gold to hide behind.

Her grandparents seized her immediately, introducing her to so many people it made her head spin. They played their parts well, and even Druella slipped back into her own slot, though she drank perhaps a little too much. Eventually, Narcissa had enough of meeting men, and when nobody was looking, she slipped out into the garden. It was a bright summer night, but a little cool; she gathered her light shawl around her shoulders. She was glad to be away from the party. Her head was aching from false smiles and introductions, and she picked her way down the path. She didn't see the person sitting in the shadow of the house until a cigarette tip flared, and she heard the drawl of her eldest sister. "Had enough of the party?"

Narcissa jumped. "Bellatrix!" She said, flushing a little. Reminding herself that she had nothing to be guilty about, she straightened. "I didn't see you."

Bellatrix shrugged, tipping the ash of her cigarette onto the grass carelessly. She looked a little more haggard than the last time Narcissa had seen her, which had been some time ago. Her eldest sister rarely kept in touch. But now Narcissa could see some dark shadows under her eyes, a drawn look to her face, although her sister was only twenty three.

"Sit with me," she said. It was more of a command than an invitation.

Narcissa sat beside Bellatrix on a cold metal garden chair, drawing her shawl even closer around her. "You look well," she said nervously, lying through her teeth.

"Of course I don't," Bellatrix said dismissively. "I look like shit. But you look nice."

"Thank you," Narcissa wasn't sure what to say. She did not think she had spent much time alone with Bellatrix since they had been small children, and she had always been closer to Andy.

"Some advice," Bellatrix blew smoke into the air, watching the party inside. Music drifted out through the partly open door. "Get out of here as fast as you can. Mother will suffocate you slowly."

Narcissa's lips parted in surprise. "I wasn't – I mean, she isn't –"

Bellatrix snorted softly. "She's a leech. She clings on to you, sucking every bit of life from you. Grandmother is trying to set you up with a husband. You need to take the first opportunity you have. It's what I did."

Narcissa's reply was silent, and she knew she would never be brave enough to speak it out loud: Maybe I don't want to be like you.