DO NOT EAT TOM RIDDLE'S SNAKE (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} missmegan) wrote,@ 2009-08-30 22:58:00 |
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one hundred prompts; black; druella & narcissa.
WORDS; 1,112. The world had crashed apart. Druella's middle daughter was just gone, and Cygnus had already blasted her name off of their family tree. It hadn't even been a day! Andromeda would surely come to her senses within a few days, and return home to be properly married to a suitor of respectable lineage. If any would take her, of course. The news was out, the society ladies were gossiping, and what was Druella to tell them? Her eldest had taken to saying "Andromeda who?", not helping the situation at all, and it was damn good that Bellatrix was already engaged to a Lestrange, otherwise they'd have probably found it quite impossible now to get her a good enough marriage. It had been hard enough in the first place to find someone who wanted such an outspoken girl, who knows what would have happened if the Lestranges hadn't come forward before this mess. One daughter run off marrying a muggle, the other being incredibly foolish with the situation, that would have been far worse. And then there was Narcissa. It was extremely fortunate that she was pretty, with any luck her beauty would make up for the shame brought upon them by Andromeda, and the general loudmouthing of Bellatrix. They'd just have to make sure that the point that Narcissa was the jewel of the three, and worth attention even with the Black family's status going straight down the drain with every passing year. Druella hated that it was Orion's boys who would carry the name on, not any of her girls, but they carried the breeding and lineage, at least. While Druella had been born a Rosier, the family of Black had her loyalty and she worked incredibly long and hard to uphold their standing. Not that any of her work or time seemed to make a difference, with Andromeda just going off and making them all look terrible because of her foolish ideas. Where had she and Cygnus gone wrong with Andromeda? Sighing she turned her head from their manor's copy of the Black Tapestry, and found her youngest standing in the doorway, staring at the same spot that Druella had been, the burnmark nestled between the names of Bellatrix and Narcissa. "She's not coming back is she?" Narcissa said, stepping up closer to where the tapestry was on the wall. Druella looked back to the tree herself, one hand (which was oddly enough holding a fork taken from the table at breakfast) on her hips. She was a little ashamed to let her daughter see her in the bit of a wreak that she had become with her dress slightly straightened, her hair not fully brushed, and especially without even a bit of appearance-shifting to adjust the more prominent signs of age (and general blemishes) that Druella preferred to keep hidden. Staring at the tree, Druella said, "Oh, of course she will. She'll come to her senses in a few days, a week at most, you'll see. But don't worry about that, darling. What you need to worry about is that summer function at the Malfoys next week. They have an unmarried son near your age, you know?" Leaning in slightly, she imagined a line running from Narcissa's name to the Malfoy boy's name. A Malfoy, now that would be perfect for her little girl. The Malfoys were a good line, a good standing family with much less drama than the Blacks had suffered recently. It was a high hope, but if they took a liking to Narcissa (which, by all rights, they should considering how absolutely perfect the girl was, but Druella might have been biased) then that would be wonderful all around. A marriage to a Malfoy would help the Blacks' standing, and Narcissa would be in the proper sort of household befitting her. "Lucius?" "Yes, that's the boy. Have you met him?" "Well, yes-" "And?" Narcissa and Druella looked at each other briefly before turning back to the tapestry. "Do you think it's possible?" "Well, of course. I mean, for Salazar's sake, they'll have to only take one look at you, and I bet the boy will be begging for your hand in marriage," Druella said surely, tapping Narcissa's name on the tapestry with her fork. A quiet moment passed between them as Druella's pointer-fork stayed on Narcissa's name while they both looked at all the names on it. Once Narcissa (and Andromeda, because she would come back, Druella had decided) was married off, that would be the end of it. Bellatrix's wedding was coming up soon, and unless she did something stupid (or the Lestrange boy decided he didn't want a woman so outspoken), she'd be a Lestrange soon. Then what would Druella be, she wondered? The mother of three married daughters, nothing of note? Orion and Walburga had two young sons that would be carrying on the Black name and society would forget about Druella and Cygnus being Blacks at all. It was a shame that women couldn't carry on names, but then if they could, Druella probably would have never even married, being the black widow, good-looking cougar in the balls that even the young men were after but couldn't have. With that thought in mind, she lost track of where she was, with a smirk on her face at how fun that would have been, and it was Narcissa speaking that reminded her that things weren't like that at all. "Maman?" Blinking, she looked back to her daughter who was looking at her curiously, and said, "Indeed," tapping Narcissa's name, "Even when Andromeda does come back, it's still up to you my little angel, to uphold the family's name." "What about Bellatrix?" "Bella spent too much time with your father, I fear, and doesn't seem to quite realize the place of a society lady," Druella's arm dropped from the tapestry. Narcissa nodded in agreement, and Druella clapped her hands together. "Tomorrow we'll go shopping for a new dress for you, you can't very well wear anything you have now. Then Sunday you're coming with me for tea at the Parkinsons. Old lady Selwyn will be there, she's good friends with Mrs Malfoy. Now, it's nearing teatime, yes? Good." With that, leaving Narcissa behind with the tapestry, Druella strode from the room, intent on fixing her appearance (even when there was no company, a lady should always look her best), and returning the fork to the kitchen. She looked at it briefly as she walked to the bedroom, and found it was one of the set that was engraved with a black B on the handle. Black, as it stood for. As it was. |