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Later, Narcissa would say she always knew.
The truth of the matter was that she had long suspected, and had drawn the rational conclusion from years of odd remarks and strange behaviours.
She’d assume it came from somewhere in Orion’s family, but she was too perceptive to believe that. After all, she knew Uncle Alphard as well as Sirius and Regulus did.
As she watched her youngest Black (and favourite overall) cousin walk to the Ravenclaw table in shock, she made a mental note to write a masterpiece of a letter that would encourage her aunt to go easy on the boy. She couldn’t afford to make the same mistake she’d made with Sirius.
Sirius, after all, had never forgiven her.
She knew better than to go up to Regulus during the sorting ceremony, but she kept a close eye on him, and couldn’t help but notice when Sirius all but dragged him out of the Great Hall. He had no tact at all, Sirius, and he didn’t seem to mind the stares they gathered as they left in the middle of the sorting ceremony.
She rather thought that she could piece together what Sirius was going to say, but she was surprised to see Sirius come over to the Slytherin table after depositing Regulus back with the Ravenclaws. She kept her gaze trained on the Ravenclaw table long enough to watch a first-year boy… Scamander, if the hat were to be believed, start talking to Regulus, and she tried to watch what happened next, but then Sirius was there.
“Narcissa,” Sirius said with the carefully measured coldness of a twelve-year-old who had determined to do something he detested for the greater good. “May I speak with you?”
“Of course,” Narcissa said. Sirius had always preferred Dromeda, and Narcissa knew why, but she’d never begrudged him his favourite cousin… even after Dromeda ran off with some Mudblood.
Sirius gave her a look which conveyed his discomfort discussing this around a table full of Slytherins, so Narcissa, determining that her youngest cousin’s health and safety outweighed any negative social effects from sneaking out during the feast, followed him out to the corridor.
“Reg’s too soft to get a Howler,” Sirius said.
“I quite agree,” Narcissa said. “Although I’m not sure I’d use those exact words.”
“I told him to write Mum, and I said I would too, talk about how awful Ravenclaw is.” That seemed rather transparent, but Narcissa’s Aunt Walburga had always detested that which Sirius loved. It did make sense that the reverse might hold true in this case. “And I need you to write about the virtues of Ravenclaw. Not…. like you think it’s better than Slytherin, but more like…”
“As if I think Ravenclaw is a perfectly acceptable house for good pureblood witches and wizards and not some of the strangest students in this school?”
“Yeah, exactly,” Sirius said. “There’ve gotta be Ravenclaws who even Mum respects.”
Narcissa could think of a few. “Very well. I was intending on doing much the same of my own accord. I’ll also speak with him,” she added, “because… he really does need to understand the gravity of the situation.”
“Believe me, I know,” Sirius said, looking in that moment much older than his twelve years. Narcissa wondered just what went on that house when she wasn’t there. Gryffindor had been a disappointment, of course, and Narcissa had shared her family’s belief that Slytherin was the only acceptable house, but… well, she didn’t want to linger on those thoughts. She wouldn’t have put it past Sirius to have chosen Gryffindor to infuriate his parents.
“I don’t think Aunt Walburga will send him a Howler,” Narcissa said. It wasn’t how she tried to control Regulus, and it wouldn’t do her any good. Narcissa was sure that her aunt realised that.
“She’d better not, or I’ll send her one.”
Narcissa looked her cousin in the eyes. “I don’t think you fully understand what a terrible idea that is.”
“Well,” Sirius said, “someone has to show her what a bad idea it’d be to treat him like shit.”
She had half a mind to ask where he’d learned such language, but the answer was obvious: Gryffindor tower. “Sirius,” she said, trying her very best to be as commanding as possible. “We will both look out for Regulus. This is a complication, but we will work through it.”
“We’d better,” Sirius said, as if Narcissa could ever find him threatening.
“I’ll compose a letter to Aunt Walburga… why don’t you see how he’s doing? I believe he started talking to the Scamander boy around the same time you came to talk to me.”
Sirius paled. “Mum won’t be happy about that.”
“She never has to find out,” Narcissa said.
Narcissa kept up light conversation with her friends for the remainder of the feast, but her mind was busy working away at what to say to Regulus. She knew, now, in Ravenclaw – with Newton Scamander’s son chatting to him like they’d known each other their whole lives – Regulus wouldn’t have the pressure from his friends, or perhaps even at all at school, to marry a proper pureblood witch like his parents had always wanted.
She knew her challenge was, really, much greater than ensuring her favourite cousin didn’t get a Howler. She had to ensure he didn’t get disowned.
After all, everyone knew Uncle Alphard had only been left on the family tree because Regulus and Sirius existed. His minor scandal with Dorian Rosier (her uncle on her mother's side) was etched in her memory, although she’d been a child when it had happened. He’d never married, but then he hadn’t had to; Sirius and Regulus had been born by then.
Sirius was already a lost cause – another Andromeda-in-training, although Dromeda had at least had the decency to be Sorted into Slytherin. But Regulus… perhaps she could save him. And after he had an heir… then he could do as he pleased. It might cause a minor scandal, but the line would continue, and that was the important thing. She planned to approach him with such a compromise when he was a bit older, more able to understand what, exactly, was at risk.
She wasn’t heartless. She wasn’t going to make him think about this before he needed to. Especially with everything Aunt Walburga would likely force upon him.
She did sneak out of the Great Hall before the First Years left, with the full intention of having a quick chat with Regulus. She rolled her eyes when she saw who they’d allowed to become Ravenclaw prefect – a Mudblood with no considerable talents.
She managed to make her pointed look not a full glare, but she did say commandingly that she needed to speak with Regulus.
The Mudblood didn’t seem impressed. Showed what he knew. “You can speak with him in the morning, Black. I’m meant to be showing the first years how to get into Ravenclaw tower.”
Narcissa felt anger well inside of her and wracked her mind for a good enough hex – she’d likely lose house points, but it would be worth it – when Regulus intervened. “It’ll just be a moment,” he said in an impressive imitation of his father, “it’s family business.”
The Mudblood rolled his eyes. “One minute, or else it’s ten points off Slytherin and a detention for the both of you.”
A fifth-year prefect couldn’t do that, and it was some pathetic power trip for him to be threatening that in front of a group of first years, but Narcissa guided Regulus a bit off to the side and cast a muffling charm to ensure they wouldn’t be overheard.
“I’m going to write your mother about all of the prestigious purebloods in Ravenclaw’s history, but you and I both know that won’t be enough. Sirius thinks just because it’s not Gryffindor that Aunt Walburga will be fine, but she won’t. You’ll need to get perfect marks, Regulus. Make prefect, get on the Quidditch team, no detentions. And… for the love of Merlin, I hope I don’t have to say this, but I’ll say it just on the off-chance that you really are as daft as your brother: do not befriend any Mudbloods. I suppose Half-Bloods are unavoidable in Ravenclaw, but… Sirius and I can’t protect you from her if you do something that stupid.”
“It’s not as if I asked to be in Ravenclaw,” Regulus snapped, surprising her. “I asked for Slytherin, and the hat said Ravenclaw, and there’s no petitioning to get it set right.”
Of course he had, the good boy that he was. She half wanted to tell him she was proud of him for at least expending the effort, but it wouldn't serve any purpose. “Be that as it may,” she said instead, “there is no longer any room for errors from you. And once you graduate, you’ll marry a respectable pureblood girl and have children who will, hopefully, go to Slytherin.”
This was of the utmost, and she searched his eyes for proof that he was listening. “I know that,” Regulus said, almost seeming resigned. “And Sirius said… that I should write Mum, too.”
Regulus had always been her Aunt Walburga’s favorite, but Narcissa rather thought that wasn’t because, like her, she found him charming and had a soft spot for his own softness and gentleness, but rather because Walburga Black equated his softness with malleability, and because Sirius had likely jumped to his defense at the slightest sign of trouble, taking the blame. A Black and a Gryffindor at once, Sirius, and it made for an interesting combination.
“Make it placating enough,” Narcissa said, “and it may work.” It wouldn’t do to let Aunt Walburga know that Regulus had a backbone or a mind of his own, not yet. “Sirius probably got more than was strictly necessary for the sorting itself because your mother had to hear it a month after the fact from my mother.” Narcissa was sure that her mother had waited for the perfect point in conversation to mention that particular fact, most likely in response to some mention of Dromeda.
Regulus nodded, and, in spite of herself, Narcissa felt herself soften. “Reggie,” she said, lapsing easily into the childhood nickname, “I know you’re a good boy, and I know you’ll do the family proud, but you must understand that we’re as shaken as you are by this. And your mother…”
“I know,” Regulus said.
Narcissa kissed his cheek, then, because the boy needed some sort of affection, and his mother certainly wasn’t giving it to him. Then, in an attempt to reassure him, she said, “It’s awfully drafty in the Slytherin common room, anyway. But up there, in the tower… there’s no excuse not to make the Quidditch team next year.”
Regulus nodded and, correctly interpreting that the conversation was over, walked back to his group while Narcissa lifted the charm, scanning the small group of first years. She didn’t recognize any of them besides Regulus, but then she hadn’t anticipated that.
She did her best to draw herself up to her full height and hauteur, and turned to that Mudblood prefect. “All done. Was that really so hard, now, Grant?”
The Mudblood rolled his eyes at her. “Go back to the dungeon before I dock Slytherin house points, Black.”
She could have protested that that wasn’t within his rights, but she took a quick glance at Regulus, and stormed off in what she rather imagined was an impressive swish of her robes.
She went back down to her common room after her discussion with her cousin feeling as if everything just might work out, and a plan in mind for her letter to her aunt. It would be beautiful, long, poetic, and most importantly, it would protect him, at least for a little while.
Of course, she’d need to keep an eye on him, for the good of the family. He’d need his family to remind him of his duty to marry a pureblood witch and have children – that was, if Sirius didn’t do it first, but Narcissa didn’t have very high hopes for that. So it would have to be Regulus, or the Black family would die out.
She thought, idly, that she’d be proud to carry on the Black line. Lucius was absolutely darling, but the Blacks were better than the Malfoys – it was only patriarchal nonsense that would prevent her from having her own son carry on the Black family name.
But it would have to be Regulus – if she tried to keep her name, to give her son her name, she’d cause a scandal.
The idea came to her mind more often than not as she watched her favourite cousin during his first year at Hogwarts.
She watched as her favourite cousin befriended the two Half-Bloods he shared a dorm with, and that was when she knew it was over. She still wrote placating letters to her Aunt Walburga, of course, singing Regulus praises and detailing how he was making the family proud… but there was no way, she knew, he’d ever be willing to fulfil his duties to the House of Black.
Not anymore.
She wondered if keeping her name to carry on the line was such an absurd idea, after all.
Years later, she would tell him that the important thing was his happiness, and she would half-believe it. She would mean it when she said that she loved him, though, even if she still wouldn’t understand why he’d be so willing to turn his back on everything he’d ever known for a man.
Even later, as she held her own son in her arms, she would remember her cousins, especially Regulus, and promise Draco (who was so small, so fragile) that she would always love him. That if he, by some turn of events, ended up like his first cousin once removed, that she would continue to love him, and support him, because his happiness would be the most important thing.
The Malfoys were nothing compared to the Blacks, anyway.