For Funerals, We Wear Black [NARCISSA & ANDROMEDA]

She wasn’t surprised that Narcissa seemed to still be in bed - it seemed as if the poor blonde girl had been there since the news had broke. She didn’t show up for meals, she refused to speak to their mother, and she most certainly hadn’t opened the damn curtains in ages. Bellatrix could practically smell the must coming from a room that hadn’t been properly cleaned or aerated since they had arrived back home. If Cissy wouldn’t leave the room, it was impossible for the elves to come in and open a window from time to time, or even to change her sheets. The poor girl was living in her own filth. Or at least, that was the way that Bellatrix saw it - she was the girl that had her sheets changed daily, her clothing washed by hand even if she wore it for only a few hours, her room was spotless...and it smells of pine needles when she wanted it to. But this - this was disgusting.

She eyed the bed that she could see the outline of in the middle of the room and immediately crossed there, touching the edge of the footboard, letting her sister know that she was there. However, instead of pausing to speak with her, she turned and walked to the right where she knew the windows were. Reaching up and touching the top of the curtains, Bells slid them to the sides, allowing the white hot light of the November day to sear the room and serve as an unorthodox wake-up call for her youngest sister, ”Up.” Bells said, folding her arms across her chest as she stared out the paned window that was before her. Narcissa was lucky that she didn’t have to watch the courtyard from her vantage point at this end of the Manor - she wasn’t sure that the poor girl could take any more than she was already experiencing. Bells’ green eyes scanned the side of the house, watching as some small snow-flakes fell to the ground, or lodged themselves between the branches of the trees that were surrounding the house. It was only then that she turned around to survey the damage that had been dealt to dearest Cissy. 

Bells had never been - nor would she ever be - a particularly loving and empathetic human being. She didn’t see the need. She was raised to believe that emotions were compromising and often got you into more trouble than they were worth, but seeing her youngest sister like this...curled in her bed as if she had just been dealt the fatal blow instead of their father - it almost tugged on her blackened heart-strings. Turning around so that she could face her sister, she looked at the girl’s blonde hair on the pillow. Cissy was the fairest of all the Black sisters, that much was certain. Even in her state of depression, she was ethereal. The Eldest Miss Black was almost jealous of her, almost because she knew that her sister would never be able to do the things that she did. Narcissa was delicate, Bellatrix was the thorns. She was the protector. 

A few steps forward and Bellatrix was at the edge of her sister’s bed. She reached into the pocket of her black dress and pulled out a pair of leather gloves, slipping them onto her hands because of the chill in the room, ”You really should get up, and it’s in a few hours.” She said, her voice nothing more than a whisper, obviously referring the funeral that they were all slated to attend as good Black family children. Gloved, Bells reached across her forehead and brushed some of her sister’s blonde hair away from her face, ”You haven’t eaten in days.” She muttered, ”I’ll have Terrace send for some food.”

Bells immediately lowered her face so that she could clearly see the expression that was on Narcissa’s. She was being stupid, completely idiotic. By starving herself and lying around in the dark, what exactly did she think she was going to accomplish? But of course, Bellatrix knew better than to tell the girl what to do; Narcissa would ignore her if she didn’t coax her out in the correct manner. Sighing slightly, Bells removed her hand from Cissy’s forehead and placed it on her nose, pinching the bridge with every bit of strength that she had, ”Well you can’t just sit in here forever-” She began to say, but Narcissa was still going, spouting off all the different things that she refused to do. Merlin, if Bells had ever said these things to her superiors, it would have earned her a curse and a slap to the face. However, they were two completely different people - Bells and Cissy - although born from the same-blood, Bellatrix was older, responsible and dutiful. Narcissa had a naive quality about her, something that she had always possessed as the baby of the family. 

She watched her sister violently fling the dress to the other side of the room and raised both of her eyebrows at young Cissa, ”No one really wants to go to funerals. They’re poor excuses for parties.” Bells said as she stood up from her position on the side of the bed and crossed the room to the dress that had been flung there. The raven-haired beauty tugged on the bottom of her glove before reaching down and picking the dress up and folding it across her arm. It was a smart dress, rather sensible, perhaps more sensible than Bella’s lace combination, but she suspected that Narcissa actually wanted to pay her respects to their dead-beat of a father. 

Staring silently down at the fabric, Bellatrix was struck with the strangest sense of nostalgia for her childhood days. She remembered the years that she and her sisters had spent at this house. The way that they had always gotten along well. They would spend hours playing hide-and-seek in the vast manor...at least until their father seemed to always find one of them first and demand that they stop being so childish. Bellatirx shook her head, banishing the memory to the back of her mind where it belonged. Honestly, she was in no mood to reminisce about her long-gone childhood. She was a woman now - she was the leader of this family. Stepping forward, Bellatrix placed the dress on the bottom edge of the large bed, then looked back up at Narcissa, her green eyes boring into her sister’s. 

”Terrace-” Bells called. No sooner had the words left her lips than a small house-elf appeared next to the bed, his head bowed in acknowledgment of the two Black Sisters. Her eyes had not left Narcissa’s, as if breaking eye-contact was impossible. 

”Madame Bellatrix-”

”Bring the youngest Miss Black a cup of tea. A spot of honey. A glass of water for me.” The girl said, the no-nonsense as quick to appear in her speech as well as her demeanor. She straightened her back as her green eyes shifted to the left and she stared at the deplorable creature that was now polluting her sister’s room by just standing there, ”What are you waiting for, you twat? Go!” She yelled, shooing the animal off in the other direction. Thankfully for Bellatrix’s nerves, Terrace disappeared with a pop, evidently to fetch the beverages that she had just ordered.

”Hmmm?” Bellatrix questioned as she shrugged her shoulders, ”You said you didn’t want food and tea isn’t food. It’s a beverage. Always check the loop-holes.” She said as she pulled a wand out of her pocket. It wasn’t hers...hers had been splintered and destroyed by Valerian Maxwell a few days ago during parents weekend. She had inherited her father’s wand: A slightly crooked and knobby thing, but powerful none-the-less. It obviously hadn’t been too attached to Cygnus, because it worked perfectly for her, ”Now get up. Don’t make me use this.” Bells said, offering her sister a light smile. She was only half serious....wasn’t she?