As usual, Andromeda was fairly certain that the seat she had chosen toward the back of the library would prevent most people from stumbling across her; whether friend or foe, or a little bit of both. Granted, over the past months that she had spent a large amount of her days pouring over books and scrawling down notes for assignments, she had taken note of a small list of people who had learned exactly where to find her when they needed to talk to her in private. Among these people, most of them sought her out among the shelves of dusty tomes because they needed to talk to her without the prying eyes of her fellow Slytherins watching them. Not a precise system, perhaps, but it had worked miraculously well for the past couple of weeks.
As such, when a well-manicured, rather dainty (yet surprisingly forceful) hand caused her pile of books to shake, she was not expecting to look up and find her youngest sister, blonde curls cascading down her petite frame as she cocked her head to the side and smirked. With a small measure of pride, the second Black sister realised that little Cissa was emulating her very own trademark demeanour. That head tilt, that curl of her lips, the slightest of sighs at what she was observing; it was almost like looking in a mirror. Except Andromeda could not recall ever being on the other side of it.
She made a show of nodding along as her sister spoke, a small smile spreading across her face; yet when her sister finally finished, she quickly turned back to the notes at hand, enunciating her words with the patient voice she had heard the likes of Bella and Alice use around herself. “I’m busy, Cissa,” she said, dipping her quill in ink before copying a sentence down. Only when the youngest closed and removed the book in front of her did she meet her gaze again, sculpted eyebrow quirked in anticipation of what her sister would say next.
Inadvertently, Narcissa’s words - although spoken in jest - stirred within Andromeda a number of latent fears the middle Black carried with her constantly; fear that the change in her behaviour was noticeable, fear that people would start asking questions about it, fear that her ambitions for the future, or even worse, her new and highly unorthodox friendships, would come to light in the most unsavoury way. Yet all she did was quirk the corners of her lips up into a small smile. “Cissa, I’m merely working on a couple of assignments, not setting up camp here,” she replied teasingly, setting her quill down on the table. “Besides, after the stunt I pulled during our victory celebrations, I figured I was due for some responsibility. Still…”
Picking up the quill again, she twirled it between her fingers as she observed her sister, suspicion brewing underneath the surface. It was unusual for Narcissa to seek her out like this; even more so for her to suggest such an activity. Perhaps she had not been paying much attention to her lately, but it never seemed to bother her youngest sister when Andromeda decided to badger someone else into taking part in her crazy escapades, let alone when she decided to spend time studying - that was Cissa’s main hobby in life, after all. But still, here she was, and Andromeda did not know whether it was out of pride or out of guilt that she set the quill down again and began gathering her things. “What do you have in mind, Cissa?”
Little was she amused by her sister's interpretation of her own sister, forcing it upon herself, yet something was different about her sister; the devious smile of which was so frequently spread upon the face of the Black family's own delinquent grew absent, her enthusiasm lacking with little remorse. What did you have in mind, Cissa? In all honesty, only time. Time was precious; it could not be wasted, it could not be misused, and it certainly could not, under any circumstances, be rejected. After all, neither of the two were, in any case, aware of what would transpire in future events. Should they be separated, Narcissa would see no darker day than one of that particular one.
Flexing her fingers upon the desk, she tilted her head to the left, allowing her curls to frame her face. Suspicion bubbled beneath the skin of the younger sister, though she promptly snapped back into the determined mood she was certain that Andromeda, of all people, would know so well. With a flick of the wrist her cascading locks were tucked behind her ear, falling down her back in a regal form. After all, that was what they called her; a delicate princess. Oh, if only walls were transparent. If only they were so easy to see through. Truth be told, Narcissa was many things. Studious, judgemental, naive; but delicate, however, was something she was not. Delicacy implied weakness, and the Black family was anything but that. They were strong, they were fierce, and they were undeniably powerful. Perhaps that could change, though. Perhaps they weren't as powerful as they'd believed themselves to be once before. Maybe, with one wrong mistake, it could cost them all they had. After all, they'd lost one family member to this date; Narcissa wouldn't lose another.
After so many years, perhaps Narcissa had become the one person who could truly see Andromeda's lies within truths. Not only could she see what was going on, but she could fully remove the mask from her face. She could reveal the bubbling anticipation, she could comprehend the hurt and confusion; Andromeda was her sister, not only by blood, but by heart. Should they not have been sisters, would they have connected in the same way? Perhaps so; or perhaps not. Either way, Narcissa was glad they were. Hand in hand, the three will roam the halls as the big three; the royalty of the halls. They had each others, and Narcissa would do all in her power to prevent the loss in that. She would not leave her sister so easily, she would not give up. The Black bloodline was yet to meet a time where all hope was lost; never would they give up, never would they surrender. They would fight for what they believed in; right or wrong, good or evil. Nothing stood between them and glory.
Straightening her head into a central position, she pushed up with her fingers, repelling her body from the table. "What did I have in mind, sister?" With a sudden flick of her legs, Narcissa forced herself from the chair, bringing her sister with her. "Come along, Andie-- you'll see." Still intent on grasping the sleeve of her sister, she threaded her arm through the gap of her own; the space between her waist and her arm itself. Time. In all honesty, all Narcissa had in mind was time. Not in a sense of forgiveness, repent or remorse; but in eternity. A wish to stop time itself. They did not desire more time, but wish to own time; it could stop when requested, possibly pausing forever. For when they were with each other, time was a mere factor of which stood between them and whatever would transpire in the future. Easy or difficult, good or evil; time was nothing, time was everything. And there it sat, ticking away. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Truth be told, there was nothing lurking in Narcissa's mind for the doings of the two. Rather, she would prefer to give her sister the option. In a sense, should she choose carefully, Andromeda would soon re-transfigure into the same Andie she and her eldest so dearly adored. "What to do, sister?" She mused, tapping her chin in an exaggerated fashion. "Oh, the possibilities," pausing, she turned to face her sister, "Have you been spending all your time alone, these past few days? Or, perhaps those you've been gracing with your presence would enjoy our company, would they not?" Spinning on her heels, she began to drag her sister back towards the dungeons. After all, why would she converse with anyone outside those walls?
