Genetics • Sirius Black

Chapter Seventy One: Black Wedding.

Things have gotten more and more uncertain the more I grow old. I fear, but by the time I am only twenty, I will have lost all sense of reality, and gravity will be only a distant idea. 

Thick green paint coursed down Freya Grey's face contrasting the burning hot red of her cheeks. Her breathing was heavy, and she could hear people's giggles as she ran through the stone hallway, barely able to make out the entrance of the girl's bathroom. The tears in her eyes were tinted green, and her tiny twelve-year-old fingers were slippery from the paint. Stupid Marauders. She ran towards the nearest sink and saw the green mess flashing back at her. Frantically, she started to scrub out globs of paint with frustration, not even wanting to consider how she'd have to clean her white shirt.

"You'll ruin your hair if you do that."

Freya lifted her head to see a young porcelain woman in the corner of her mirror. At first, Freya thought it was one of the Hogwarts ghosts. All white and almost glowing. The ghost stepped forward from the shadows, and Freya's head whipped around. With striking blue eyes, the older girl took in Freya's appearance. "My sister has hair like yours." She approached Freya as she riffled through her black bag. Tensing, Freya started shrinking into herself, shoulders rising near her ears. But, the girl only pulled out a brush and bottle of something. With her finger, she gestured for Freya to turn around. Gently, she guided Freya's hair to the sink and started working. When the water ran clear, the girl pulled Freya up and added the cream to her hair. Freya could not tear her eyes off the girl's face, confident she was the most pretty person she'd ever seen. The pain came in spikes through Freya's head, and the girl seemed unbothered until she said, "Stop wincing."

"It hurts." Freya stated, her voice quiet.

"Beauty is pain," Narcissa replied, meeting Freya's gaze through the mirror. Freya's dark eyes were intense and curious but dropped soon after Narcissa looked at her too long. A soft smile landed on Narcissa's thin lips, and she resumed her work. "What is your name?"

"Freya."

"Freya what?"

"Freya Grey."

"You're not a muggle-born, are you?" The girl asked apathetically, and Freya shook her head. Gently, the girl scrunched Freya's hair in some places, then pulled her wand out of her cloak pocket. Without uttering a single syllable, the girl created a small circle in the air with her wand and started drying some of Freya's hair. Once it was damp, she stopped and turned Freya around to face her. "Say your last name with more pride." The girl said, then a barely natural smile painted her pale face. "I am Narcissa Black."

Freya recognized that name but could not imagine any relation to the great house. Blacks were known for their dark hair. Still, she bowed her head at her like her father had taught her to do in proper company. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Grabbing her by the chin, Narcissa lifted Freya's head to look her in the eyes. "Chin up."

At first, Freya did not know how to speak with Narcissa's soft fingers on her; then, she mimicked the way Narcissa best she could and tried to be a quarter as elegant as the older girl was. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

With a smile on her lips, Narcissa nodded. "Better."

Then Narcissa left the bathroom without another word. Little did either of them know their paths were crossed in more ways than one. 

It was a beautiful day in July years later when Freya Grey found herself staring at Narcissa Black through a mirror again. Her blonde hair was pin intricately on her head, twisting and twirling. The back of her lace white dress trailed up her thin neck. Hands with the precision of a surgeon, she placed a thin black line around those striking blue eyes.