𝔳𝔬𝔩𝔲𝔪𝔢 𝔦, 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖎𝖎𝖎

house of black

Bathe. Wax. Pluck. Paint. Colour. Rose. Darken.

For Lyra, the primping and powdering was so frequent it had become like some sort of repetitive ritual. Frankly, she had become so sick of it that the house elf bathing her back was shaking in fear of witnessing an infamous Lestrange tantrum. Nevertheless, she chiseled a smile on her stony statue of face and slipped on a pretty dress that was sure to have Narcissa cooing.

Rabastan held his sister's chin in his hand, surveying her features for even an inch of imperfection. ''More lipstick,'' he decided. ''Walburga likes lipstick.''

''Is Walburga to be one of my suitors?'' Lyra deadpanned, raising an perfectly plucked eyebrow but reaching for the silver tube nevertheless. ''Pray tell, why are you so tense, brother?''

He bristled; anyone else wouldn't have noticed the vein in his neck pulsing or his lip twitching, but his sister did. She always noticed these types of things, and her observation would surely get her into trouble one day.

''I'm not tense,'' he laughed, although the smile didn't quite reach his eyes the way it should've. ''I'm simply annoyed our brother is late — I did have plans, believe it or not.''

''Oh, if the plans include producing more illegitimate heirs, then I have no doubt you did.''

Rabastan clicked his tongue, glancing at his silver pocket-watch. ''None of that talk around the Blacks, Lyra.''

''Are you concerned your actions would taint our family name if anyone were to ever find out? Have no fear, brother. I am almost certain the Blacks have more than enough secrets of their own they'd rather keep to themselves.''

''All of the Sacred Twenty-Eight do, some more dark than others. Either way, you are to keep their secrets to yourself too, Lyra — they are doing us a great favour letting you stay with them.''

''I still do not see why I must spend the entire summer with them. I would not complain if it were a few days, maybe a week, but until school starts? I have never been away from home that long, and I do not see how their summer estate differs from our own.''

''It doesn't, but their summer estate has a son who is considering courting you. A son who will most likely end up being heir to the fortune of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Lyra, which you must remember.''

''I remember it better than my own name, that is how much you rabbit about it. I frequent these types of conversations with Rodolphus, but never you — have you two taken Polyjuice Potion without telling me?''

''You couldn't pay me enough Galleons in the world to turn into Rodolphus, have you seen the loose cannon of a wife he has? No, but as you can see he isn't here, so I've got to step up even if it is only for a few seconds.''

''Yes, and then you can continue bedding even more susceptible young women.''

Rabastan didn't offer a response, instead flicking his wand in the direction of Lyra's dressing room. In an instant, every item of clothing she owned was stowed neatly in the trunk Hector Greengrass had gifted her, all her toiletries were stacked in a light carry-on case, and Pistachio was snug in the same crate he had been brought in. All three pieces of luggage floated in mid-air as the pair of siblings set off down the flight of stairs and into the foyer.

Lyra set off in direction of the drawing room, where the largest fireplace in the house was, when Rabastan stopped her.

''We are not Flooing. Orion detests the dust, and we mustn't risk getting your dress robes dirty.''

''Then are we taking a Portkey? I always tell you they make me nauseous, and I cannot imagine Orion will prefer the contents of my breakfast over a bit of green dust.''

''Neither. The Blacks have sent a carriage.''

Within seconds Lyra had wrenched open the front doors of the Lestrange Manor and was greeted by the fresh summer air and a horse-drawn carriage. It wasn't anything like the rickety old things drawn by Thestrals that Hogwarts had; no, this one was far more handsome.

Two huge Palomino horses of the purest white stood tall and proud, their coat as shiny as a diamond and as soft as cotton. The carriage itself was creamy colour, with silver accents and embellishments. Even the sage green curtains and velveteen benches inside were entwined with a glittering thread.

''I must admit, I don't see the point of such a grand gesture,'' Rabastan commented. ''A Ministry car would've been fine enough.''

''Never mind that,'' Lyra shook her head. ''The carriage is beautiful. Clearly, our family isn't the only one relying on the consideration of courtship.''

''No, I suppose not,'' he agreed, as they drew closer and closer to the Black Summer Estate.

The country house was even grander than the carriage, if that was even possible. While it was just as lavish (if not more) than Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, it was much more welcoming. The building of the hall was a mellow beige colour, livened by the buntings of honeysuckle and berries that climbed the bricked walls. Every window pane was accessorised with a row of yellow peonies, and the bushes before the home were brimming with white roses.

Lyra was most definitely accustomed to having the best of the best, but the Blacks were certainly going above and beyond, and she wasn't going to be caught complaining.

''I'm not staying,'' Rabastan informed her as she reached for the carriage door. ''Rodolphus and Bellatrix will join you shortly for dinner.

The brunette nodded, resuming her actions in opening the carriage door when the handle twisted and the glass swung forward. There was a small jump for her to make that was softened by a cushion on the ground, and the sight she was met with was fit enough for royalty.

Rows upon rows of house elves lined the steps leading up to the ornate front door, all bowing upon the sight of her. Among them were the Black family; they all managed to resemble each other ever so slightly, yet differ greatly at the same time.

Walburga was at the very bottom of the stairs, nodding at Rabastan in satisfaction before kissing Lyra on the cheek. She was quick to waltz off, leaving the young girl to greet Druella, Cygnus, and Orion by herself before they too hurried off.

It seemed as if all the grown-ups had someplace to be that day.

''Lyra, you look lovely,'' Narcissa complimented, wrapping her arms around the girl. ''You must show me the glamour charms you use.''

''I have the whole summer to,'' she returned, unwrapping herself from the blonde's embrace to face Sirius.

Truthfully, she didn't know what sort of greeting to expect from the eldest Black son. After all, they weren't courting or anywhere close to, so it was not permissible for him to touch her. However, he wasn't a grown up, so therefore it made no sense for her to curtsy to him. She thought back to the etiquette classes from her youth, and before she knew it, he was no longer in front of her.

Now, she didn't expect him to nod and wink at her.

Surely, it was her eyes playing tricks on her, Lyra deducted as Regulus held out his hand to her. She allowed him to take her own hand in his and place a kiss on the front. The manner was unsure and anxious yet innocent; she didn't blame him, after all, the two barely knew each other and were inevitably being groomed into spending the rest of their lives together.

''Regulus,'' the Malfoy woman broke the settled silence. ''Shall we give Lyra a tour of the estate?''

''I shall,'' he agreed. ''Unless you must chaperone?''

Narcissa glanced between the two teenagers, and then at their hands which were still grazing each other delicately, before looking at them again.

''You two will be just fine, I would imagine.''

The tour was everything Lyra had expected, and more. Her sleeping chambers on the third floor were almost a carbon copy of those at Lestrange Manor, and there was even a small side room for her Niffler to stay in. A pair of rococo French windows were the centerpiece, however, leading to a magnificent view of the rolling hills and acres of flower mazes that the grounds had to offer.

The young pair had returned moments before dusk, just in time for the patio dinner. The long table was laid beautifully, and by the time the plates were filled and seats were taken, there were still three people missing.

''I'm afraid Bellatrix and Rodolphus won't be able to make it,'' Walburga hummed, taking her place at one end of the table. ''As for Sirius, I haven't the faintest idea where he's disappeared off to.''

''He hasn't.''

That was the first time Lyra had heard him speak. Of course, not in her life — more often than not you could hear his obnoxious guffawing coming from the Gryffindor table at every meal, or his bad flirting with McGonagagall in Transfiguration. But she had never heard him sound so . . . dull. It was as if he had received the Dementor's Kiss, and his appearance proved this to be a good guess.

His hair was uncharacteristically disheveled; even at school, Sirius never allowed for his most impressive feature to look less than impressive. The top button of his dress shirt was undone and collar askew, as if he had been dragged through one of the rose bushes. Finally, there were dark crescent moons under his eyes in shades of lavender and violet, mellowed by the peachy sunset gracing the garden.

''You have kept us and our guest waiting long enough,'' Orion clipped. ''Sit, Sirius.''

He did as he was told, but not without slumping into the chair and clattering his fork against his  plate.

As mentioned before, Lyra noticed the little things. This included the glint of sadism in Walburga's eyes as she made eye contact with Orion, who was sat across from her at the other end of the table.

The air was so brittle it seemed as if it would snap. For a while, the dinner had the same mechanical atmosphere that all the inhabitants were used to: sit up straight, don't talk with your mouth full, take small bites, use the correct cutlery, drink slowly, don't slurp . . . the list went on.

It was only after the third and final course that the lull in conversation subsided. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, Lyra couldn't decide.

''So, Lyra,'' Orion began. ''You are to start your fifth year, I believe?''

The pure-blood witch nodded, smiling demurely despite the sleepiness that threatened to cloud her manners. ''Yes, I am.''

That was all the engagement he needed to continue. ''You are in the same year at school as Sirius, then — it's a wonder you two have had so little interaction.''

Nobody at the table knew why in Merlin's name Orion had made such a comment. After all, even a blind Hippogriff would be able to tell why Lyra and Sirius were strangers. First of all, she was a girl, and he was a boy. Second of all, she was a Slytherin, and he was a Gryffindor. Those two reasons were shallow, but they were more than enough.

''I tend to keep to myself at school, mostly. After all, it is only permissible for me to form friendships with girls, so I am either alone or with Alecto.''

''The Carrow girl? Yes, she seems nice enough. Good family. However, Regulus had mentioned that you share other mutual friends, which leads me to wonder who else he's talking about.''

''The other Slytherins, father,'' Regulus spoke. ''Avery, the Carrows, Snape, Barty, Evan, Wilkes, and Mulciber. We're all in the same group, technically, except the girls don't speak to the boys outside of school work.''

''I see,'' Orion nodded slowly, sipping from his goblet as if making his mind up about something. ''Lyra, you are aware that Regulus is due to begin his fourth year, I hope?''

The Lestrange girl furrowed her eyebrows, quickly relaxing her expression once she realised what she'd done. ''Yes,'' she hummed, slightly confused as to what this had to do with anything. ''The last year of freedom before examinations — it went by in a blur for me.''

''Oh, I remember my school days like they were yesterday,'' Walburga chuckled, clutching the strand of pearls around her neck. ''My parents were overjoyed when I was sorted into Slytherin, much like myself and Druella when the children began their first years. Tell me, do you have fond memories of Hogwarts, Narcissa?''

The blonde stopped pushing the pile of food around on her plate aimlessly. ''Naturally. It is where I met Lucius, after all.''

''Where is Lucius?'' Lyra asked. ''I have not yet seen him around today.''

''He won't be joining us for the summer, unfortunately,'' Narcissa rolled her eyes. ''He has work. He will be here for the upcoming luncheon, however.''

''Splendid,'' Walburga grinned. ''You marriage will set a fine example to the younger ones, I daresay.''