Starlight

Narcissa was the only cousin not named for the stars. Her parents told her that the name, so fitting of the family elegance, had stuck. Aunt Walburga told her to suck it up and take it like a Black, but then, Aunt Walburga's name wasn't astronomical and certainly wasn't elegant, in Narcissa's eyes. It wasn't a big deal, as she assured herself over and over in those foggy days of youth, but she couldn't help but prefer Rosier reunions to those of her own name.

Her mother was a haughty woman; so much so that Narcissa could have easily been fooled into thinking her own surname was derived from the maternal line. Her mother was a strong woman, and her mother was a proud woman, and her mother was cruel above all, from the perpetual downturn of her lips to her calloused hand to misbehavior to the constant insistence that she was a Black, she was a Black, she was a Black. . . . It was an unbearable mantra in her mind, and it became her hope and dream to one day be whisked away by a handsome prince like in the fairy tales Andromeda so loved.

Ah, Andromeda, the kind one in the family. She'd always preferred Bellatrix and Regulus—her role model and her equal, respectively—but they'd become staunch supporters of Voldemort in their time, and the followers never survived. Only Andromeda was left… Andromeda with the benign little smile dancing out of sight, Andromeda who told her fairy tales and whispered that she'd never let go.

She let go for Sirius soon enough, and look what had happened to him. The rebellious never survived, either.

But Narcissa was a good daughter, an obedient daughter, and did what she was told. So she made the Hat sort her into Slytherin, and she didn't protest when Aunt Walburga blasted Andromeda off the family tree, and she let Bellatrix enlist her in the Death Eaters, even though all she wanted was to start over as a Rosier and let the Hat put her in Hufflepuff and give Fabian Prewett a chance when he told her she was beautiful. She wasn't beautiful, right down to the upturned nose, but she took her simple pleasures and noted the irony in her name.

She loved astronomy, but Narcissa was still the only cousin not named for the stars.