#narcissa1

[janamclaggen]

when: April 27, 1979 where: Great Hall who: Jana + @narcissablack-x​

Jana chewed obnoxiously on a piece of gum as she stuck her hand out to shake her partner’s, mandrake baby on her hip already, “Hi, I’m Jana. I don’t know if you remember me.” She’d crashed, with Iris’ permission, that Nott hen’s party. The one with the strippers. “Our baby’s going to be real blonde, I can tell.”

[zeldanettles]

“Pretty kitty, a party suits you.” Zelda admired, eyes peeking out over the top of her cup. “You’re real gorgeous.”

@narcissablack-x​

[romieblack]

“When isn’t Bella late?”

@narcissablack-x

[ellaparkinson]

NARCISSA BLACK

“Do you keep records of all these spells, or do you run off the chaos of pure inspiration?”

.

“It’s a bit of both I suppose. I keep a record— what I’ve created, who for, for what reason.” She kept the information purely as a source of knowledge and more so as a type of power. “I don’t typically need to revisit the pages of my spellbook however, I remember it all.” Perks of having an eidetic memory.

[harperwil]

sisters keeper || narcissa and harper

You would think that torturing and murder would be the worst part about being forced to work with a terrorist organization, but nope. For Harper, it was the group projects.

Specifically those where she had to work with newbies. It was a thing that she’d always have to endure, however, for she neither had the eligibility nor desire to move any further up the ranks. More than that, she’d always been pretty damn good at teaching – being able to define, explain, and demonstrate on a topic that she had a skill with was almost the only time she really enjoyed conversing with others.

But that was only if the people she was teaching actually wanted to learn, listened to her, and had an iota of common sense. Which, unfortunately, was not the way she would’ve described who she was working with that night.

Harper hadn’t caught his name, or given her own (’lesson one: keep your identity secret from everyone’, she had said earlier), but she knew from his accent that he wasn’t from the country. She’d pegged him to be maybe nineteen, the same age as Dolohov but very much unlike her superior Death Eater in the sense that this kid was still… well, acting like a kid.

Harper had left him alone for five minutes. She came back just in time to hear him in the middle of robbing Narcissa Black.

“I said put your hands up!” he was screaming, wand pointed squarely at the young girl’s chest. Harper bit back a string of curses, heart pounding as she ducked around the corner. Oh, this was bad. This was so, so bad. A hermit she may be, she still knew of the Black family. Knew the reputation that the eldest sister maintained. Knew that they had the power and resources to track down anyone who would dare to touch a golden hair on their youngest’s head – Death Eater or not.

And the idiot wasn’t even wearing anything to cover his goddamn face.

Harper ripped off her mask, making a quick decision. It was better to explain to Dolohov why she’d turned her partner into a cockroach, than face the consequences of messing with a Black.

“Protego!” she yelled, revealing herself just as the boy threw a hex of his own. The ropes he’d summoned bounced harmlessly off the invisible barrier now surrounding Narcissa, and Harper aimed her wand at them.

“What the–? Hey what’re you doi–”

His words were cut off as long twirls of duct tape slapped around his mouth, wrists, and ankles. Shock, recognition, and outrage shown clearly on the boy’s eyes, but Harper ignored him and turned to Narcissa.

“You alright?”

@narcissa-wil

[sirius-whoisleft]

black of night //

It was late, and Sirius was making his way through the corridors of the school. Curfew had come and passed; so had Sirius’s attention to the time passing. Wandering around after curfew had never been something that bothered him ––the rules didn’t guide his behavior any more than they governed, say, all of the violent war shit breaking out across the world–– and the dark, deserted halls didn’t strike fear into his heart like it might have for others. Normally, his presence out and about at this time of night meant he was up to no good. For better or worse, he was a fan of spreading mischief and the cover of night was his preferred medium.

Tonight, though, Sirius was not up to mischief. He’d been holed up in a classroom, abandoned after the bustle of the school day and free of the laughs and shouts and ‘Sirius, have a drink!’s of the Gryffindor common room. The Marauders had drifted to their separate corners of the castle for the evening: Remus to tutoring, Peter being tutored, and James attending to his Head Boy duties with a level of dedication that had inspired and surprised all the rest of the boys.

And Sirius? Sirius had his books.

It wasn’t a position that many had seen Sirius in–– surrounded by high stacks of hardcovers and focused intently on a parchment-filled paper. He did his best to tell himself he wasn’t hiding this from the castle, from anyone at all. But there was something to be said about the late hour, the fact that he left cursebreaking out of his conversations, about his desire to not look stupid if he tried for something and didn’t get it.

But it wasn’t a time for his self-esteem to waver into crisis–– it was time for bed and, bag slung over his shoulder, he was on a mission to get there. He wasn’t sure who was on patrol tonight (only that it wasn’t either of his roommates) but he didn’t take any pains to keep quiet or step lightly as he reached the top of a flight of stairs and started across the third floor, his eyes on his wand as he played with it in-hand.

He was pulled out of the moment when he heard steps rounding the nearby corner. He fumbled, quickly, to try and cast a lumos, but being caught off guard left him in the lurch. His wand fell to the stone floor with a clatter, emitting no light put causing a noise that pretty much guaranteed he was about to come face to face with someone else who was also out here after hours–– for better or for worse.

@narcissawil

[chancellor-dervilia]

Down the Line || Narcissa & Quinn

[This colony had a lot of infected people in high places, more than he wished there were, a lot more actually, because an ideal situation would present itself as soon as the NWRF HQ decided that Elite status should not be handed out to Infected or people who fought for their cause. It would be much easier to forward their agenda if they had little resistance. After all, that was - if Quinn was correct - exactly what the NWRF wanted: to research and get rid of the infections, to ensure they wouldn’t hurt anyone anymore.]

[Some of their researchers, however, were either pro-Infected, or Infected themselves. One of those cases was Narcissa, a young woman who had been transferred here only recently - because all the nutjobs were send to his colony - and who Quinn had yet to hold a conversation with her. But he wanted to, he needed to, because in order to be sure everything would follow suit, he had to have them under control. The researchers were a valuable part of that whole organization. He couldn’t dismiss their infections as easily as he might with others. Because the researchers were doing research on the infected, and if they acknowledge that they were doing it on their own kind, they might not do everything that was necessary.]

[He entered the lab just under ten minutes before dinner time, knowing this was when the place was most deserted, and according to the system Narcissa was still there.] Miss Shor, can I borrow you for a bit please? 

@narcissashor

[celestialgreengrass]

a night we’ll never forget / c + n

Celeste was excited about the Malfoy’s annual Christmas party. Christmas parties were among her favorite kinds of parties. She loved the lights and decorations and all of the people that were dressed to the nines. The endless amounts of champagne were fun too. She had fond memories of stealing a bottle of champagne with some of the other Purebloods when she was much younger, and getting tipsy off of it. 

But if the party was the best part, than dressing up and getting ready was a close second. It had only been natural that she extended an invite to Narcissa to come to the Greengrass estate to get ready for the party. Diana was under the weather and wasn’t going to attend, and Celeste detested getting ready for a big event alone. She was absolutely looking forward to gossiping with her friend, and getting ready to have a great night. 

She was in her bedroom already, trying to decide which dress suited her the most, and which would be best to wear to the party. A hand on her hip, she appraised the four dresses that she had thought would be most appropriate. One was a sparkly silver color, the other a beautiful red that showed off a modest amount of cleavage, the third a black dress on the shorter side, but it accentuated her legs, and the final dress was a sparkly champagne color that she personally loved. But truly, all four dresses were lovely, she just wasn’t sure what statement she wanted to make tonight.

“Miss Greengrass, Miss Black is here,” one of the house elves announced.

“Yay!” Celeste squealed. “Send her up!” 

The elf bowed to her and disappeared with a crack. A few moments later, there was a knock at her bedroom door, and she threw it open. “Cissa!” She squealed, pulling her friend in for a hug. “I’m so happy you’re here! How is your break? Let me see the dresses you brought! I’m so excited for tonight!”

@narcissa-whoisleft

[bellabtchs]

She preferred this place to the manor ----- it was too big, too empty, too much like that fucking place she grew up in ( where the only good things were the garden & her sisters ). But this place, the apartment in the middle of wizarding London, was one that felt like h o m e. With the noise of the city all around her and the place not too small, but not too big either, it was perfect to confine the whirlwind that was Bellatrix Lestrange. 

With feet on the salon table ( she could hear her mother disapprove ) and a glass of wine already in her hand, she was clicking her tongue along to the ticking of the clock while she waited. This was done with a certain impatience: even though her sisters were not late, she was bad at waiting, and was growing more and more bored as the minutes passed. Then, there was that long-awaited knock on the door, and with a smile that was only reserved for her sisters -- as they were the two people who still made her feel h u m a n -- she opened the door. 

                         ( Of course, she had made sure her wand was in her dress                            pocket before she did so, as Bellatrix was not stupid at all. ) 

“And here I was, thinking you were never going to make it.”

@andrvmeda @nvrcissablvxk

[amos-wil]

@narcissawil

Amos wasn’t exactly subtle in his attempts to sneak items in from Hogsmeade. In fact, he tried to drag as much attention to himself as possible. This wasn’t for the intention of getting caught, of course, but usually when a student was doing something that could warrant a detention, they tried to be quiet. Amos’ idea was to do the exact opposite so suspicion would not lay upon him. So, with ease, he carried a box through the hallways, smiling at every passer-by on his way to the Hufflepuff Common Room.

In the box contained forbidden items, but nothing too drastic to risk expulsion, or so he hoped. A Fanged Frisbee, a couple of weak Love Potions and some Ever-Bashing Boomerangs were just a few of the items contained within. Amos had only one purpose for them, of course. To unleash to his dorm-mates. Whether it would be in a friendly here have a present type of way or a I’m going to throw this at you while you’re sleeping kind of gesture, he hadn’t quite decided. Either way, the prospect of showing them to his closest friend, regardless, made the risk all the more worth it.

And boy, did Amos know the risk. Especially when he spotted a certain blonde Slytherin nearby. His first instinct was to ignore her completely and continue on his journey. After all, he didn’t know her all that well. A few passing words here or there, passing on messages from Professors or having to talk to her regarding her prefect nonsense. But the problem was exactly that – her status. He didn’t know her well enough to know how observant she was. Or how nosey. So he took a risk, and grinned at her as he wandered past.

“Narcissa Black.” Amos halted beside her, shifting all of the weight from the box into just one of his arms so he could do a half bow. “How wonderful it is for you to grace us with your beauty. Rather selfish of Slytherin house to drag it to the Dungeons so often.”