Narcissa Black
Age- 23
Chosen Faceclaim- Sarah Gadon
Loyalty- Neutral
Former House- Slytherin
Occupation- Philanthropist/Socialite
Label- The Braggart
Aesthetic- Long baths with rose petals, dislikes confrontation, hopeless romantic, silk robes.
Traits- + Charming + Ambitious + Clever - Manipulative - Vain - Secretive
Key Points
From her earliest years, Druella prided herself in her youngest’s well-mannered, calm-tempered demeanour — The perfect diction, the perfect smile, just the right way of not getting stains on expensive dresses. Narcissa’s childhood was less one of a happy child and more akin to that of a pretty, untouchable image (an image which, paradoxically, was not quite herself and that she had to live up to). Images are seen and not heard, trapped in a set point in time which would be the only thing ever remembered of them — The thought is small, reductive and frightening; that Narcissa will always be the fair-headed girl with immaculate dresses, expertly placed hair locks and pretty smile growing on her lips ( inviting, almost friendly behind the unattainable coldness of her soul, caught deep within her pretty blue eyes. Her pretty blue eyes and her pretty smile and her pretty dress and her pretty hair and her pretty manners; that adjective taking over her life, making it feel cramped and empty at the same time ). It is not so much that Narcissa aspires for more. After all, she has never known anything else but being the youngest of three — the one who had to be perfect when her other siblings and cousins were not, who was never berated or out of line, who seemed to fade into the greater than life entity that was the House of Black. She was not Cissy Black, then, she was the legacy she had to uphold, heavy on her tiny shoulders and heavier on her heart, coming with the intrinsic knowledge that all of these reasons that made her special and pretty and perfect were also the reasons why she would never be valued by her family as something other than a pawn, traded off in marriage for an alliance. A perfect pawn, but a pawn all the same — A spare, where Bellatrix was her father’s rightful heir. Even as a young child, even with Andromeda’s positive presence in her life, Narcissa could tell this was how it all worked. She was not stupid, she could perfectly make out the part they all expected her to rise up to and the fact she had no choice in the matter whatsoever. And so she played the part for all her life. She figured then that perhaps this was what love and devotion were all about — following the family’s path, heading the family’s comments, not because she had to but because she persevered in that mind-set despite of it all. Self-abnegation, a quality she has much less of now that she has figured out not only how to play the part but also how to play the game.
Being the last of her offsprings left at home during the school year, Druella took to parading Narcissa around pureblood society, an attempt less at connecting with her own daughter and more at reinforcing her image as a homemaker ( an image which practical, to-the-point, ambitious Druella at times seemed to not match, but Cissy knew better than to question her mother. If she was particularly well-behaved her mother would entertain her in practicing French, a language her side of the family had very distant ties to, instead of her usual straight-forward replies and reminders her daughter’s tutor was coming soon ). Then, Narcissa was also expected to smile and keep quiet unless spoken to, which would then only require a sweet smile and clever answer. One might think, then, that Narcissa honed her social skills through her mother’s connections, playing with the children of other witches whose company Druella cared to be seen in. While this is for the most part true, her mother’s behaviour never truly gave Narcissa much to learn or to observe, her ways always engrained deep inside the young witch’s soul as if it were a brand ( the Black family stamp, its crest proudly metaphorically marking Narcissa as one of its own ). Cygnus Black the Third’s manner ( walk, posture, speech pattern ) was far more intriguing for the youngest Black sister who understood that by being the last to leave and the most overlooked, she would also have the strategic advantage of being the one who could easily observe and take in her father’s taste for the political. This is perhaps the first time Narcissa would ever grant herself the right to form a fully fleshed out thought ( an idea, concept, something to hold on to ) of her own, without her parents’ will and her sisters’ opinions clouding her own judgement. From this moment forward, the blonde swore to her future self that she should not allow people to so easily manipulate her, a promise which she believes she has kept for the most part ( doing things out of love does not count. It is not manipulation, it is her choice ).
The Sorting Hat is perhaps the first entity to truly acknowledge her own complexity ( She is eleven, she is worried. All her family has been in Slytherin and she cannot defect from that rule. She almost feels incredibly small on that stool, and then hears a whisper that she seem to have more potential and ambition than what first glance would tell you. Slytherin, of course ). And then little Cissy Black ( fragile, pretty, well-mannered Cissy Black ) is free — Free to be her own person, to use her time at Hogwarts to perfect herself and her magic in a way which interests and benefits only her, not her family. And Narcissa has perhaps the most comforting realization of all and does not do any of that ( does not want to do any of that ). She is a Black, and it is an honour to bear the family name, and she will be nothing short of the perfect, focused student everyone expects her to be. Too busy romanticizing her sisters’time at Hogwarts, Narcissa assumed hers would mirror theirs in a transcendently self-defining way, but now that she is here, it becomes apparent she does not want any of that. The part that was written for her was made that way for a reason, and though she had always respected it and understood it, it is the first time in her life in which she genuinely looks forward to it. There is safety, security and comfort in this path she knows so well — And this is what Narcissa craves. Her parents had not made her the heir, like Bellatrix, or the spare, like Andromeda ( though she had once believed she shared Andy’s burden ). They had, albeit perhaps unwillingly, made her a politician — Someone who would grow into an elegant, poised, respected socialite who would never have to worry about her position at the top of their community so long as she fulfilled her duties and married well.
She is invited to attend the Slug Club with some of her cohorts, which she uses to her best advantage as a networking event, forging bonds and collecting information with and about people who could prove useful or otherwise significant once she would be done with her education. She sets herself up for the perfect life, a life which would not entirely depend on the match and marriage that would be made for her — A life that would benefit whoever her husband would end up being. As per her mother’s teaching, the blonde never let go of her air of purity, sitting pretty and quiet — But pretty and quiet were the façade, the pureblood trademark which hid her agendas and desires ( and worries ) in an effortless way. Narcissa is just about ready to start her life when events take a different turn, tainting this overall masterful use of the popularity given to her because of her family name forever and devastating her even more. Andromeda leaves home. No. Andromeda is dead, dead to her and to the rest of her family, not even a footnote in the blonde’s story where she used to be a main character. And Narcissa aches for things to be different, for Andy to come back and say this was all a weird and intricate prank played on Aunt Walburga, but it never happens. And soon, too soon, Sirius follows through the door Andromeda has opened, and Narcissa does not know what to tell Regulus. She does not even know what to tell herself. Narcissa’s ghosts are now people of flesh and bones and feelings she should not and does not want to be feeling, instead of the immaterial figures roaming Hogwarts.)
Graduation is a lackluster event in the midst of a war where sides have already been chosen for her. There is no joy, no feeling of accomplishment, just a tick on the predetermined path of her life, an insurance her betrothed will have an educated wife. They are all underestimating her, but that is quite alright. Narcissa wants to be underestimated, to lay low. It’s the only way she might save at least a small piece of herself to be hers and hers alone. And of course, the blonde is proud to fulfil her duty — Proud to make alliances for the great and most noble House of Black, and the Malfoy heir is intriguing enough that she feels she has no reason to complain. But being the poster child for pureblood excellence and being herself, at least just a little, are not mutually exclusive. Besides, she likes the excellence — Likes the parties and the pretty dresses and the expensive jewelry and the imported wine; likes to tell people of her family’s French heritage, on her mother’s side, and how beautiful Paris was the last time she went; likes to be looked at and envied and adored. She is selling a very specific brand of life, one that everyone should feel envious of and wish was their own. And she is doing it perfectly — The only missing link is the grand, scintillating wedding which would be the envy of all.
She sometimes wishes it all could be different, of course — Wishes her neutrality in the conflict were more honest than it currently is, wishes she could marry for love and have work like any other witches her age and wishes she could pick up that quill and write to Andromeda. But where would be the prestige and fulfilment in that?
Connections
Bellatrix Lestrange- Sister.
Lucius Malfoy- Betrothed.
Andromeda Tonks- Sister, estranged.
Regulus Black- Cousin.
Sirius Black - Cousin, estranged.
