Melody | Narcissa Black

Futures

Narcissa soon returned to Hogwarts for her final year and she would have been lying if she had said she did not feel a sense of relief. As much as she worried for her mother while she was at school, there was a small part of her who liked to be away from the cold emptiness of home, guilty as it made her feel. She knew it was selfish. She was all her mother had left. But yet her heart lightened as she joined the sea of black robes at the train station, just one more student among hundreds.

"Narcissa! Over here!"

She heard her name being called and turned to see her friends coming towards her. Narcissa had had lots of friends over the years at school, none of them particularly close ones. Narcissa knew their friendship was skin deep and most of them were simply friends with her for political reasons, but she didn't hold this against them. After all, she didn't particularly like any of them either. She kept up their friendship because it was useful, because it felt good to slip into a crowd at school. It felt good to take on a different persona than who she was at home, to not just be the youngest sister, the one who had to look after her mother. At school she could be somebody else.

Narcissa was glad to be swept up by them and pushed along to a carriage, where Carlotta terrified some first years into giving up their seats. It was a relief to sink into mindless gossip about boys and the other girls in their dormitory, and they soon found themselves onto the topic of the next summer and their long hatched plan to holiday together abroad.

"Father says he can arrange for us to head to France straight after graduation," Carlotta was painting her nails by the window. She was beautiful and she knew it, stretching her slender legs across the empty seats while the other girls looked on with envy. "You're all going, aren't you?"

There were murmurs of assent around the carriage.

"Of course," Rosalie played with a strand of her long white-blond hair. "My sister Olivia did an exchange year at Beauxbatons and she says French boys are so much better looking."

"What about you, Narcissa?"

She was flicking through the latest issue of Teenage Witch, only half listening. Summer was so long away it might as well be ten years in the future. She knew she wouldn't be allowed to leave her mother, but simply shrugged, going for a look of nonchalance. "Probably."

"I can't wait," Beatrice sighed, looking out the window at the passing countryside. "It has to be more exciting than another year at this dump. I can't wait for the Dark Lord to come to Hogwarts." 

As usual, the mention of his title cast a momentary silence among the girls, at least until Carlotta gave a little snort. "I think the Dark Lord has more to focus on then a stupid school, Bea. For now, at least."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Rosalie said. "If he intercepts the school now.....well, he can stop the breeding of another generation of mudbloods and blood traitors, can't he? It's more important than you might think."

This caused a thoughtful pause, until Narcissa tossed her long hair impatiently, not wanting to hear any more, wanting to avoid any and all talk of the war and the Dark Lord. "What are we talking about politics for? I mean, boring. Carlotta, could you paint mine too?"

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It was with bright blue nails that Narcissa and Carlotta arrived at the Welcoming Feast, and it was with flashing eyes that Professor McGonagall curtly told them nail polish wasn't permitted and disappeared every trace from their nails. Carlotta was still bitter about it for the next week of their Transfiguration lessons, but wasn't fool enough to challenge the teacher.

The first Divination class came at the end of their first week. It was a class they shared with Ravenclaw House, and not many of the Slytherins took it, Narcissa simply because she was dyslexic and avoided the murky world of languages. It was a class that wasn't taken very seriously by most of the students, with the exception of a few of the Ravenclaws who wanted good grades and listened diligently, or Pandora Dearborn, who was flaky enough that she probably believed that somebody's future could be determined by a lump of soggy tea leaves or a glass ball.

Today they were each given cups of tea, which was a drink Narcissa disliked, but drank down quickly.

She studied the dregs of her cup, staring at the tea leaves, but it was no use. It still just looked like a soggy lump of leaves. Beside her, Beatrice was frowning into her own teacup, elegant dark eyebrows knitted together.

"It looks like a frog," she said at last. "What on earth does that mean?"

"It looks more like a hat from here," Rosalie told her, then preened. "I think mine's a ring. Got to be a good sign."

"Mine just looks like leaves," Narcissa said flatly. "This is ridiculous."

Unfortunately, the teacher was standing behind her.

"Let me see yours, Miss Black," Professor Sinclair's voice came from behind her shoulder, and she deftly plucked the cup from her with long fingers. The teacher turned the crockery in her hands, squinting at the leaves. Narcissa was glad to see she looked amused rather than annoyed.

"Divination is  a little ridiculous, you are quite right. What you should know about Divination, girls, is that most of it is lucky guesswork......hm, Miss Black, I should say love is in the air."

Narcissa's face burned. "L-love?" she squeaked, as Bea smirked and elbowed Rosalie.

"Well, it seems so. Some dark times, too...." her face suddenly looked troubled. Narcissa opened her mouth, but Beatrice got there first, pushing her teacup at the teacher. "Look at mine, Professor! Is it a frog or a hat?"

"Hm," as soon as the expression had arrived, it was gone again - Professor Sinclair looked almost relieved as she handed the cup back to Narcissa.

She looked glumly at the leaves. It may just have been her imagination, but the dark mess suddenly seemed to resemble a long and twisted snake.