Genetics • Sirius Black

Chapter Seventy One: Black Wedding.

Once she finished, her sharp eyes flew to the corner of her mirror where Freya stood behind her. Pinching the corner of her mouth, Narcissa turned around in her vanity chair. "How does the dress fit?"

Freya looked down at the cotton pale blue fabric draped over her body, almost as if she'd forgotten she was wearing it. Her hands ran over the skirt of it; it was cool to the touch and worth more than anything else she'd ever worn. "Good."

The wedding was sudden, and her being a bride's maid was even more sudden. She only found out at the end of June.

"Come here," Narcissa commanded and glanced at the chair beside her. Doing as told, Freya crossed Narcissa's room, trying not to seem like a foreigner. But the smoothness of the dark wood floors made Freya feel like she was about to fall and snap her neck. Fortunately, Freya had enough training in heels that her neck stayed intact. Once Freya sat, she stood straight and faced Narcissa's inspection. A pale finger stroked a curl in Freya's updo. "You have the hair of a true Black, you know." Narcissa mused, then sat back in her chair. "Now, be honest. Do you like the dress?"

Glancing down at the long white lace dress that puffed out at the bottom, Freya wondered how she even put it on. Its train seemed endless, and it fit Narcissa's slim figure snuggly. "You look like a princess."

"I got it made in France just for today." Crossing her legs under the giant skirt of her white wedding dress, Narcissa spoke with a touch of pride and excitement. She looked like she practically glowing. "I know you do not like Lucius, but he is a good man and I am happy to marry him."

"Do you love him?" Freya asked before she could stop herself.

"Love is not important in marriage." Narcissa reminded her, but Freya knew even if she did love Lucius, she not admit it. Not to her protégé, at least. "He is not as... arrogant as he seems. He is actually quite funny."

"Intentionally?"

"Are you mocking my husband?" Narcissa raised a thin brow, and Freya stiffed, but amusement tickled Narcissa's gaze. "It is a bit of both." Freya hid a laugh, and Narcissa shook her head. "He is sweet." Freya remembered when she first met Lucious Malfoy. Pompous was the word she used to describe Narcissa's soon-to-be husband.

Yet, Narcissa still fell for him.

"Cissy, are you done yet?" A woman with thick, shiny, curly black hair pinned up just like Freya's came into the room with a tired expression. With heavy lids and full lips, she wore the haughty expression most Blacks did. "Mum's getting impatient." Unbothered, her large eyes glanced unamused and touched one of the pictures of Narcissa and Lucius framed on the dresser. She took it in her hand and checked her teeth for lipstick; then, her gaze found the young girl sitting next to her sister. Dropping down the picture, she took her in without much thought. With a slightly awkward half-arsed curtsy, the woman said, "Ms. Grey, how do you do?"

The whisper of a mocking tone in her voice made Freya not want to answer, but still, Freya did. "I am well, thank you."

A hint of a chuckle left the woman, and Freya narrowed her eyes at her. Narcissa, on the other hand, was withholding an eye roll. "Freya, this is my sister Bellatrix." The blonde explained as the dark-haired witch sauntered behind Narcissa to look at herself in the vanity mirror. Nose wrinkled, Bellatrix toyed with the updo. Narcissa sighed. "Bella, leave your hair alone—"

"It feels like I have a rat on my head."

"It's just for today."

"Or until the next wedding. War's happening, husbands die."

"Bella."

"What?" Bellatrix Black— nay, Bellatrix Lestrange had her wedding to Rodolphus Lestrange two winters ago last winter. Clearly, she still was enjoying the bliss of marriage.