Belle of the Ball

By the standards of her family, Narcissa was plain.

Now, she was by no means homely or disfigured in any way. She was pretty, certainly, but plain. With her family and her breeding - the Blacks - she was expected to be much more than she turned out to be. Why couldn't she be more like her sister? Bella was perfect, and even Sirius, the wayward cousin, was undeniably handsome. They didn't talk about Andromeda much. But Narcissa - she was rather plain.

That's why, on her coming-out ball, her sister overshadowed her by far. Bellatrix, in a lacy dress of heavy, rich velvet, her chestnut hair curling agreeably over her shoulders, was the belle of the ball. Narcissa couldn't wear the velvet - it made her sylph-like figure look waifish, and her pale blonde hair just couldn't decide whether to curl or stay straight, so it just hung there in loose waves, only down to the nape of her neck. Her mother thought that she ought to show off her slender, graceful neck and gently sloping shoulders, since she lacked any curves to emphasize. Bellatrix, on the other hand, had curves enough for the both of them. That's why she was laced into a linen-and-velvet corset dress, while Narcissa had to settle for baring her shoulders in a wispy silk gown.

What was worse - Bellatrix was flirting with the Malfoy boy. Ever since her own coming-out the previous year, she had no lack of suitors and had almost decided on the Lestrange heir - he was certainly fitting. But she had to go and steal Narcissa's beau, too! Not that Lucius was her beau, but she would certainly like him to be. Tall, although not quite as tall as Bella, he was stylishly slender and wore his silvery hair long. And whenever he looked at her with his pale grey eyes, she always got the shivers. But now, Bella had sunk her hooks in, and was slowly reeling him in. And once Bella had someone, there was no going back. Narcissa might as well forget him.

Shy and wary as a white midnight moth, Narcissa hovered near her sister, listening for snatches of conversation, snatches of Lucius' voice. She watched as Bellatrix smoothed his collar, laughing, a low, throaty laugh, watched Lucius smile in return. Then, his eyes on her. She blushed and averted her gaze. What was his game?

When she felt she could look up again, Lucius was leading Bella out on the dance floor. How predictable. Narcissa would not dance even at her own ball. Everyone would ask Bellatrix. Everyone always did.

She found a seat by the wall and arranged herself in it prettily. A wallflower. How fitting. She sat out the dance, looking down at her gloved hands, folded primly in her lap. Bellatrix wore fingerless gloves - so daring. When the band took a break between songs, she was suddenly aware of a pair of trousers standing in front of her.

She raised her eyes. The person in the trousers was Lucius. She blushed and felt the urgent need to look away, but his gaze held her.

"May I have this dance?"

"What happened to Bella?" she asked peevishly. She was proud of herself - her voice trembled only a little.

"Bella? She's delightful, but," he reached out a gloved hand, "but it's you I want."

She took his hand and allowed him to guide her onto the dance floor.

Three days later, he asked for her hand in marriage.