Ice

Chapter 16: "Yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible"-- John Milton, Paradise Lost.

The moment Ariana Black saw Narcissa's engagement ring (although she was not privy to the details of the rather nefarious manner in which it was presented), she began to drive her daughter mad with wedding planning. Narcissa, who had no interest in intricate floral arrangements or musicians (One could merely hire someone to work out these details, and Narcissa fully planned on doing so when she was required to entertain on Lucius' behalf.) was constantly being followed about Ravensden and hounded with the minutiae of details that went into planning a society wedding.

Narcissa was well-aware that once again she was being compared to her sisters. Ariana Black had not planned a wedding for her eldest daughter as Andromeda's ceremony was relegated to a solemn ceremony removing her name from the Black tapestry. Bellatrix had, of course, been in possession of her normal opinionated nature and been insistent upon the details of her marriage ceremony to Rodolphus. Narcissa remembered with wry humor the way Bellatrix had skillfully given in to Ariana on those details that she cared very little for in order to have her way on the things that mattered most. Which is why Bella allowed mother to select the bridesmaid dresses since, of course, my dear sister only looked better next to her attendants in those horrendous gowns. The memory made her smile slightly, and she decided immediately to allow Ariana to select the bridesmaid dresses for a bit of revenge. If only there was a color her stunning sister would look as sickly in as Narcissa had looked in the pale peach gowns her mother had chosen.

Narcissa knew that her mother was relieved to be planning her youngest daughter's wedding. She was thinking there would be no tearful arguments about flower arrangements or loud, screaming fights about the guest list. Indeed she was correct as for all her elegance and grace, Narcissa cared very little for such things. She certainly did not want to be embarrassed, but Narcissa was certain her mother would do an admirable job with the wedding and saw no reason to involve herself in the tediousness of all that planning. She merely nodded and attempted to escape Ariana's endless fascination with the details, which was made even more pronounced by Narcissa's lack of an argumentative nature.

There was a darker reason she was not averse to giving in to her mother's demands, and she thought of it every time she watched the sun sparkle in the pristine, cold beauty of her engagement ring. The lights danced in the depths of the flawless stone -- Narcissa had chosen well -- and she shuddered under the onslaught of some indescribable emotion. Fear, excitement, lust -- they all swirled within her as, lost in thought, she tilted her hand back and forth. Her mother would catch her doing this in the morning at breakfast, when the sun poured into the dining room and sparkled merrily in her diamond. Ariana would smile fondly at Orion and remark that it was "lovely to see Narcissa so happy and dreamy over her impending nuptials to Mr. Malfoy."

Narcissa was, of course, happy to be marrying Lucius, but it wasn't exactly a dreamy happiness as her mother would have believed. It was rather as if she had completed some purpose to which her life had been directed, and although she was certain her mother would agree, being a wife to a pureblood wizard was not exactly what Narcissa had in mind. Her diamond was representative of the darkest, most vile thing she had ever witnessed or participated in, however much of an innocent participant she had been. As she watched her diamond sparkle in the morning sunlight, she thought how strange it was that something so dark could appear so shining and pure. Like me, she thought poetically, for I cannot lie and pretend I did not know what he had in mind when he made me chose. I did not stop him, and I am as guilty as he. The thought was almost as thrilling as the beautiful ring on her finger.

If Narcissa was embracing some dark destiny, she thought it only fitting her mother should send her off into it dressed in white and acting every inch the proper pureblood witch she had always pretended to be. Her mother would beam proudly and sniffle into a handkerchief, and her father would deliver her to her future husband with the same absentminded affection he had bestowed upon her for her entire life. They would see what they always had seen: Narcissa the biddable and quiescent daughter doing what she should as she had been raised to do. Her parents words from the night of Andromeda's disowning ceremony came back to her : "She's never been any trouble; she just doesn't have it in her." She looked down again at her diamond and smiled. It would almost be worth the stunned reaction it would have caused to have answered her mother's question about where she got the diamond honestly. I have a capacity for much more than trouble, it would seem.

Ariana had insisted on throwing an engagement ball for the couple; no matter that their wedding was a mere six months away. Bellatrix had insisted on a ball for herself, and as her parents were so apt to do, they assumed without asking that Narcissa wished for one as well. Narcissa had been hopeful of seeing her affianced at some point in the near future; it was odd that they saw less of each other after they were engaged than before. They had managed to escape the furor of wedding planning for dinner one evening, and Narcissa refused to bother him with the details of their wedding -- as she was not all that interested in them herself, she assumed he would be even less so. Lucius had asked her politely at dinner if he was required to do anything, and she was amused at the horrified look on his face as she pretended to consider his question. She had relented and informed him that all he had to do was show up at the appointed time or else she would learn a spell from Bellatrix to hex him. His eyes had chilled for a moment, and he'd replied that Bellatrix certainly knew some interesting curses. Unspoken between them was how he knew such a thing.

Far more interesting to Narcissa were the whispered rumors of a powerful dark wizard who was slowly gathering a following to "purify" wizarding society. There were hushed rumors of brutal killings and frightened murmurs of something called a "dark mark" appearing in the sky over the houses of the victims. Narcissa read the Prophet with the utmost care and scoured for the information that was hidden in the careful reports. Her father spoke of this "Lord Voldemort" in hushed tones of respect and awe and always changed the subject when Narcissa appeared anywhere in the vicinity. She would have liked to have told her father that she was far more interested in this so-called "Dark Lord" than in any details of her upcoming wedding. Narcissa was smart enough to know that whoever this "Voldemort" was, he played more of an important role in her future than whether the retired judges from the Wizardgamut should be seated next to elderly former Ministry officials.

A week before the engagement ball her mother was throwing in the ballroom at Ravensden, Narcissa found herself visiting Bellatrix at the Lestrange family estate, Shadowbarrow. Shadowbarrow lacked the imposing feel of Ravensden or the grandeur of Malfoy Manor, but Narcissa rather thought the house suited Bellatrix. It was a beautiful home in its own right; the house was built with a fascinating combination of sharp angles, rounded corners and soaring points. It managed to look elegant, cultured and manic all at the same time. Narcissa thought the strange design fit Bellatrix perfectly - as if the architect had possessed a time-turner and managed to find out the demeanor of its future mistress and then built a home to suit her.

Narcissa was not surprised to find her sister in the drawing room pacing back and forth on the thick carpet covering the wood floors of the room. Bellatrix looked tired. Her dark eyes were shadowed, and her hair was surprisingly lank and devoid of its usual obsidian shine. "Why, Narcissa. What brings you to Shadowbarrow?" Bellatrix sipped something from a crystal cut glass, and Narcissa thought that it was most likely brandy although it was barely two in the afternoon. "Is Mother Dearest managing to drive you batty yet with the incessant wedding chatter?"

Narcissa laughed although it was a bit forced. Her sister's words were brittle as if her voice were about to break under some unknown stress. "A bit, yes. Are you alright, Bella? You look a bit tired," she finished hastily, wary with the intense stare Bellatrix was leveling at her.

"I'm fine, Narcissa," she said snappishly and then closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge between her nose. It was a rare gesture. "I am sorry, Narci. I did not mean to snap at you."

For a moment, there was silence in the drawing room as Narcissa stared in shock at her sibling. She was fairly certain Bellatrix had never apologized to her in her whole life -- and meant it at that. "Entirely understandable," Narcissa said in a calm voice. "I am sure you are quite busy lately."

The comment was meant to be innocuous. Narcissa had seen precious little of Bellatrix over the last several weeks. That in itself was an unusual occurrence for as different as they were there had always been a bond between them -- difficult as it often was to understand. Bellatrix's eyes flew open at the comment, and she looked murderous.

"What is that supposed to mean, Sister?" Bellatrix hissed, eyes narrowed. Her hands were clenched into fists. She had gone from exhausted to furious in nanoseconds. Narcissa found herself gritting her teeth and wondered if she was going to develop a jaw tic like Lucius if she kept doing so.

"Nothing," Narcissa said in a placating tone, "only that I have not seen you at Ravensden in the last few weeks, and that is unusual. Thus, I assume you to be rather busy and you do look tired, Bella."

Bellatrix laughed and shook her head, the limp strands of her dark black hair falling in her face. "That is all, is it? You haven't come here after speaking with your fiancé to ask me about my whereabouts last night?" Her voice was rising slightly; her breathing quickened.

The question was so completely unexpected that Narcissa's face reflected honest surprise. "I am hardly here to carry out inquiries for Lucius Malfoy, fiancé or not. If he possesses some burning question as to your whereabouts, I suspect he would ask you himself, Bellatrix." Narcissa raised her chin and fixed her sister with a look. Was this some ploy of her sister's to make her doubt Lucius? She was certain her sister and Lucius would never be friends, but Bellatrix had seemed honestly happy at the news of her sister's engagement.

"Ah, of course. Never dirty your hands, isn't that right, little sister?" Bellatrix had that familiar cruel, taunting quality to her voice that bespoke she was about to inflict some sort of torment. "Well, that might have to change, you know, seeing as whom you are marrying-"

"Ah, Narcissa, how lovely to see you." Rodolphus Lestrange's smooth voice cut into Bellatrix's tirade, and Narcissa expelled a breath and pasted a polite smile as she turned to greet her brother-in-law. Her eyes widened in slight surprise, but she smoothed her features and nodded her greeting.

Rodolphus was a handsome man with fair skin, dark hair and eyes as intense and deep as hers. He was not as tall as Lucius, and he wore his dark hair very short, but he had the similarly arrogant bearing of a pureblood wizard -- although not quite as pronounced a trait as was found in Malfoy. He was usually well-kept, but his appearance seemed as disheveled as her sister's -- eyes dark and wild with deep circles underneath, hair unkempt and clothing wrinkled. His voice was calm and collected; nothing else about him reflected any such emotion. He moved into the room and over to his wife. He gave her what could only be called a warning glare.

"Hello, Rodolphus," Narcissa said smoothly, eyeing her brother-in-law a bit warily. She looked at the both standing there and wondered why the house didn't catch fire from the burning intensity of the two of them standing next to each other. She resisted the urge to tell them to mind the drapes, not sure if the comment would get her hexed or not.

"I was just telling Narcissa that she should know --" Bellatrix started, and Narcissa jumped slightly as Rodolphus gripped her arm. A slight spark in Bellatrix's eyes suggested she had conflicting reactions to his rough touch, and Narcissa flushed slightly as she realized her sister might share that particular trait. I'll have to drink the entire decanter of whatever it is Bellatrix is drinking to admit to that.

"I am sure Narcissa knows all she needs to know of Malfoy," Rodolphus said with a hint of steel in his voice. He and Bellatrix stared at each other, eyes blazing, and Narcissa almost wanted to leave the room. There was such a spark between the two of them it was almost tangible, and the air was heavy and thick.

Bellatrix laughed, the sound unpleasant. She reached a hand up and rubbed Rodolphus' arm, but the gesture was far from affectionate. "Do you, my love? Do you really think she does?"

Narcissa felt as if she were intruding on some private moment -- ostensibly they were discussing her and Lucius, but the ire in Bella's voice sounded much more personal. "Bellatrix, I've told you before I am under no illusions about Lucius Malfoy," she said in an icy voice.

Bellatrix laughed and pulled away from Rodolphus. She stared pensively out of the window as Rodolphus leveled his gaze at her back -- either wishing to hex Bella or carry her off to bed. Narcissa was not certain she wished to know which intent shone in her brother-in-law's dark eyes. "You're not just marrying Malfoy, you know."

"I'm not?" Narcissa drawled, irritated at her sister's smug tone. "I was not aware I would be sharing my marriage with anyone else."

Rodolphus turned on her suddenly, that intensity in his eyes previously leveled at her sister now directed at her. He laughed shortly. "That's what we thought, at first." He laughed and caught her sister up in his arms to stare down into her eyes. Bellatrix did not smile, but the look was rapidly changing from anger to something else.

Oh, bother this, Narcissa thought irritably and said coldly, "I was not aware you were in ill humor, Bellatrix. I merely wished to escape mother and her haranguing me about table settings and seating charts. However, if you wish, I shall return at a more opportune time." Narcissa opened her reticule and pulled out the invitation printed on velum paper, the Black family motto Toujours Pur embossed on the cover in rich black ink. "Here is your invitation to the ball mother is insisting on throwing for me," Narcissa said, her voice tight. She tossed the invitation onto the secretary table opposite her.

Bellatrix pulled away from her husband and smiled at Narcissa with false brevity and deadened black eyes. "I thought you'd be happy to have a ball in your honor, Narcissa," she said quietly, her long-fingered hands tearing the envelope open slowly. Narcissa found herself riveted by the site. She's so adept at destruction.

Narcissa turned her attention away and walked to the door. She felt Bellatrix's eyes burning on her back like a flame licking at her skin. She kept her head up resolutely and walked to the door. She paused at the door, hand on the knob, and looked over her shoulder at Bellatrix. "I am not you, Sister. I'd advise you not to continually mistake me for yourself as sisters we may be, but we are nothing alike."

"He's a murderer Narcissa, and he's one of the best I've ever seen."

Bellatrix's voice matched her eyes -- dead and soulless. Narcissa smiled fleetingly and met Bella's empty eyes with her own calm blue ones. "I know," she said simply and then turned and walked out of the room. She thought she heard something crash in the room as she walked out of the house but paid it no attention.