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Narcissa had never been overly fond of stormy nights.
It wasn’t that thunder or lightning bothered her; she always slept soundly while the storm raged outside. It was that she thought they were awfully cliché.
She shouldn’t have been surprised, then, that the news of Regulus’s death came during a storm. Specifically, it came from Kreacher, who had apparated to Malfoy Manor on the orders of Aunt Walburga.
His message was simple, anguished: Regulus had a death date on the family tapestry.
Narcissa didn’t hesitate. She ordered Dobby to tell Lucius where she was going and apparated to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place immediately.
Lucius would understand. He was out on a raid and would join her shortly; he would come to her. He would know she’d be distressed.
Regulus was her cousin. Her baby cousin. He’d barely been of age.
She couldn’t believe it, but she didn’t think seeing the tapestry would make it sink in any more.
When she arrived at Number Twelve, Aunt Walburga and Uncle Orion were in the drawing room. Narcissa walked over to her aunt and offered her condolences.
She didn’t hug her, or kiss her cheek, or squeeze her hand. Such acts of affection were seen as weakness in the House of Black.
She was quite glad she’d married Lucius. Lucius, who would doubtlessly scoop her into his arms tonight and kiss her forehead and tell her that she wasn’t alone.
Because she had to, she looked at the family tapestry.
Sure enough, next to an unsightly burn mark, it read Regulus Arcturus Black, 28 August 1961 - 3 November 1979.
She felt her breath catch in her throat, but the reality of the situation refused to sink in.
It would, she knew. Eventually.
She didn’t tell Aunt Walburga or Uncle Orion that she’d been planning on having Regulus be the baby’s godfather. They didn’t even know yet that there was going to be a baby. She’d been waiting for a special occasion to announce it.
Regulus had known, though. She’d seen him just the week before, and while he hadn’t looked well, he had looked perfectly happy for her. He’d even agreed to be the godfather.
And now he’d never even get to meet the baby.
She wished he could.
She took a deep breath. There was no use dwelling on that, not in this house. Merlin knew Aunt Walburga didn’t have a kind or loving bone in her body. Vindictively, Narcissa thought that Regulus would still be here if it weren’t for Aunt Walburga. If she hadn’t pushed him so hard. He’d always been so eager to please, and after Sirius…
Well, he’d had no choice.
Narcissa knew that she would never know the full extent of what had happened in this house, but she knew that she would never treat her own child like that.
She couldn’t.
The only sound in the room was Aunt Walburga’s sobs, and Narcissa wanted to shake her by the shoulders and ask her why she’d never shown this level of interest in Regulus when he’d been alive. But she didn’t.
She was simply too well-bred.
So she sat on the settee and wished that Lucius would come soon.
When the Floo eventually activated, however, it was Bellatrix.
Narcissa really didn’t want to hear her sister go on about the Cause right now. She didn’t know what she’d do.
(She believed in the Cause, of course, but Regulus had been so young, and Narcissa thought she was perfectly entitled to her anger with the Dark Lord at the moment. It would pass, of course. These things always did. Now was simply not the time.)
“Oh,” Bellatrix said. “I see you’ve already received the news.”
“Didn’t Kreacher fetch you?” Narcissa asked.
“I was out. On a mission. Then the Dark Lord requested my presence.”
Bellatrix was going to withhold her information until she got the attention she wanted. Narcissa sighed. She was not in the mood for this. “Our cousin has just died,” she said, hoping Bellatrix might find – if not compassion, then at least pity for the boy.
“The boy was a traitor.”
Narcissa felt her blood run cold. “No,” she murmured.
Aunt Walburga started to wail.
“It’s true! He tried to leave. We all know what happens to traitors.”
“Regulus is – was always loyal to the Cause.”
“Evan told me –”
“Evan’s a liar,” Narcissa said as evenly as possible. “You know as well as I do that he’s always lied for attention, ever since he was a little boy.”
“He’s also always been attached at the hip to Regulus. If anyone would know, it’d be Evan.”
Narcissa felt a spike of anxiety at her sister’s words, but she quelled it. Evan was a liar. He wanted attention. He’d always been jealous of Regulus. That was all there was to it.
She refused to entertain any thoughts to the contrary.
Bellatrix, however, refused to see sense.
Rather than engage her eldest (elder; only) sister in an argument, she gave Aunt Walburga and Uncle Orion her condolences again, and promised them she’d attend the funeral. Then she went home.
Lucius was standing in the drawing room, Floo powder in hand. When he saw her come in, he dropped it back in the box and took her in his arms.
“Darling,” he said. “I’m so sorry.” He kissed the top of her head and stroked her cheek with such gentle compassion.
And that, it seemed, was all it took her to lose composure. She blamed the baby hormones, but really, she knew that wasn’t the truth of it.
Regulus was dead, and no one had been able to protect him. Bellatrix had as good as said she’d have fed him to the wolves.
She wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that Bellatrix had cast the Killing Curse herself.
She wondered whether they’d show his body at the funeral. Whether they had a body to show.
Lucius held her tightly. The affection he gave her was nothing she’d have been able to accept at Number Twelve, and she found herself selfishly grateful that she’d come home.
Here, she could mourn her little cousin in peace.