InsaneJournal

Who: Narcissa, mentions of Draco and Lucius
When: Autumn 1985
What: Looking at the tapestry
Where: 12 Grimmauld Place

It had been a very long time since she had seen the tapestry, and even longer since she had set foot in Grimmauld Place. The obligatory visits to Aunt Walburga had become less frequent as time passed, but Narcissa had not been very surprised to hear of the venerable lady's death yesterday. Walburga had been dying since Regulus had vanished, six years ago. Standing alone in the parlour, Narcissa could hear footsteps upstairs, and imagined Lucius and Grandfather Pollux speaking in low voices about arrangements, what would be practical, and what needed to be done about the will. It was unfair that they had to take care of this when there should have been children, and grandchildren, and numerous other people to give a proper send-off to the family's once-formidable matriarch. Narcissa herself had handled floral arrangements and mourning clothes with a sense of detachment. She didn't feel sad. She wasn't sure what she felt, in all honesty, because Walburga had not been herself for so long. She turned her attention back to the brocade. They had loved the tapestry when they were little, simply because it was impressive and shiny and you didn't understand what the burnt spots meant when you were six. Every Christmas had been a race to find names first (Narcissa had always lost to Bellatrix and Sirius). It had never occured to anyone that the five of them would be the very bottom of the tapestry and the end of it all. Well, not quite. Narcissa smiled crookedly and traced the bright letters of her son's name. Draco was five and had never seen the tapestry, nor had he been to Grimmauld Place before today. They hadn't told him that all of this would pass to him eventually. He should be a child and nothing more for now, Lucius had agreed, without the cares that come with being the heir to three fortunes. It was difficult enough to protect him from everything that had happened during the war, but they managed. After the amount of strings Lucius had pulled to get off with merely a Ministerial slap on the wrist, there was nothing to do but forget. But it was impossible to forget everything. She found her father's name, and two burns on the names of people she had grown up with and loved. It was unnecessary to keep her promise to Sirius and inform him about Walburga, Narcissa realised, but there was still Andie to tell. One day. And there was Bellatrix's name. A marker in Highgate without a body did not pay enough tribute to her sister's beauty, brilliance and dedication. Nor did it seem adequate for little Reggie. It was all that had been possible, and Narcissa had endured it. Maybe enduring was a specialty over philanthropy (she would never run a charity ever again, thank you) or parties (the April Ball stayed despite the depleted state of Society). Yes, the tapestry had been beautiful and impressive before, Narcissa reflected, when it had been a symbol of how glorious The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black was. Now it simply seemed to show how far they had fallen. "I'm sorry," she said, and though she looked towards some names and away from others, it was just a piece of fabric. Even without Walburga, it would stay in this parlour forever with the faded photographs, drying flowers, and stifling velvet curtains. There was nothing else to see, so Narcissa stepped out and slowly closed the the parlour doors behind her. Draco was sitting at the foot of the steps, attempting to look solemn in uncomfortable dress robes as per Lucius' instructions that morning. "There you are, Mummy," he informed her petulantly. "I've been looking for you everywhere. What's in that parlour?" A pause. "Nothing, dearest," she finally replied, bending down to give him a hug. "Nothing at all. Let's go find your father."