The Devil's Snare {The Sisters Black}
Okay, this is my second sisters Black fanfic (still not long, sorry, bkut it'd really hard to capture the feel of the Black family for a long time xP) Please enjoy and leave reviewses!! =D I wrote a poem for this lol
Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa Black-
With nothing in common but the blood that runs through them,
They'd travel to hell and back.
+++
It was a masterpiece- terrible and decrepit and burned and lovelier than a rose.
It was old and worn and that vile color that paper becomes with age, but its ever reaching branches twisted like vines as they coiled around each victim, each carrying the noble, blue-blooded name of Black.
And there were other names, yes, but they were mere technicalities- necessary flaws and temporary. Because one day Lestrange and Malfoy would disappear like the fool's gold they were and Black would rule once again.
There was no Tonks, only a large, circular burn mark because some mistakes were irrevocable once made and therefore must be erased before their existence. There was no Evans, but there was still a Narcissa- a Narcissa Malfoy, you will note- because Narcissa knew better than to fall in love.
It hadn't been anything- not even a minor setback, really, to remove the traitorous names from the majestic Black tree because they had never been Blacks in the first place if they were otherwise now, and therefore not a loss at all. Because a burn mark symbolized hatred beyond words- beyond blood, and any kinship felt towards the Unmentionables was swiftly forgotten because really, what was a name that wasn't a Black?
So really, there wasn't much to say about Andromeda Tonks, because she never was a Black, after all.
Bellatrix was an embarrassment- a Black should never stoop so low as to follow in the footsteps of one not of pure blood, nor one of no title nor name. But still, she was a Black, and therefore they must bear the shame and they did until the day she died.
And perhaps they might have seen her as more if they had seen her as her precious little sister had- manipulative and desire-ridden and hungry for the noble blood that coarsed through both their veins. They may just have been proud of their eldest for teaching Narcissa to hate and become the numb, frostbitten ice queen that had made them so proud?
Narcissa- the youngest, the fairest (the queen) was their pride and joy and swiftly engaged to the Malfoy boy, because no other name could possibly be even worth considering for their prodigy. Because Narcissa knew the unspoken law- Narcissa knew that no love could be stronger than the name of Black and the name of Black she would live by. She was never tempted- no, she never had plans for the Evans girl because that would be foolish and altogether blasphemous. But it entertained her to watch her flower's hatred push the boundaries and it tickled her immensely to watch her fall.
And fall.
Because Lily Evans would never know the fear that Narcissa had and she had to- she simply must know what it felt to be taken advantage of and she must feel the helplessness because Narcissa couldn't be the weakest link. She couldn't be afraid. And if the Evans girl was afraid, Narcissa was not.
When Evans fell in love, Narcissa laughed and laughed and wished she knew why because for some reason it wasn't really funny- not at all. The hole that had been burned into her heart as the girl trudged away was as terrifying and dark as her surname and the only thing she could do was pray to a God that she didn't believe in that the words begging to cross her lips were 'I hate you' but they weren't.
And so the Black Family Tree hung proudly in Grimmauld Hall, immobile and immortal- a constant reminder of what was to come, what had never been, and what could never be.
+++
Loathe, love, envy or stare,
Do or be damned with blood thinner than sand
And the name like the Devil's Snare.