Totally inspired by @rweasley‘s thoughs on this, I love it.
Narcissa had always carried her blonde locks with pride.
They’re what made her stand out from her sisters; being the only one out of three to take after the Rosier side of the family more than the Blacks themselves.
In Druella’s eyes, her hair made her more proper than her sisters, too. She lacked Andy’s dark eyes and Bella’s untameable curls; she was pretty and proper, and though her mother had meant it as a criticism when she’d been her family’s destined Heir, Narcissa was glad for it when she’d initially transitioned.
She wouldn’t have thought of changing her hair, not when she was fifteen and it felt like the only thing about her that her mother somewhat appreciated.
Things changed when first Andy left, and then Sirius too.
For months before he actually ran off to James bloody Potter’s house, Sirius had been trying to make her “see sense”, in his words.
He’d tried to convince her about his opinions on their family that she’d known long before and had always disagreed with; Narcissa had not been any more inclined to listen to him then than she had in the years before.
The last time she saw him before she’d witnessed aunt Walburga burn his name off the tree like she had Andromeda’s, he’d tried a different approach.
“I used to think you could turn out different,” he’d yelled at her, and she’d rolled her eyes. “Too scared of breaking people’s expectations to think for yourself.”
“You’re just like them, just more of a coward,” he’d accused. “So desperate for their approval you’d never do anything they could disapprove of!”
He’d been right, but Narcissa had refused to admit to any of it.
He’d left, and after his name had been scorched off the tapestry at Grimmauld’s place, Narcissa had gone to Diagon Alley and got Madame Primpernelle’s finest hair dye.
Her personal elf, Tilpy, had dyed it for her. Not all black, she wasn’t that eager to face Druella’s wrath, but a mixture of black and far more platinum blonde than she’d had before.
In Narcissa’s opinion, it made her look regal. In Druella’s opinion, it was the third-worst thing that happened to their family that year.
It was part of who Narcissa was, she supposed.
Proper and good in every way that was expected of her in their society; nothing like her sister and her mudblood husband and nothing like her cousin and his muggle cigarettes and his order.
Still with her own quiet and subtle ways of rebellion.
Her name, every bit as beautiful and pretentious as was custom for a daughter of their house, but not part of their tradition in any way.
Her hair, every bit as gorgeous and classy as she was expected to look, but not in the way her mother had wanted her to be.
Narcissa herself, really. Picture perfect and the prime example of what a pureblood Lady of their society should be, and the complete opposite of what she had once been supposed to be.
Sirius might not have understood, but that hardly mattered
She was perfect, perfection in pureblood society too, in entirely her own ways all the same.
Narcissa was quite proud of it.
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