Contrary to popular belief, Andromeda Black was not so very different. Not in the beginning, at least.

Bella, Annie and Cissy. You couldn't love one without loving all of them; at least, not when they were children. They were three pieces that fit together to make a perfect puzzle. No one was invited in to their close bond, and no sister wanted to be out of it. When they were little, they spent their days making up new games, painting worlds that existed only in their minds. At night, they would clamber into the same bed and fall asleep like a pile of kittens. Their dreams were the same: they would fly over mountains and canyons hand in hand, swim together in underwater palaces, ride chimeras over misty plains. They would rise with the sun and discuss their adventure, already planning a new one for their waking hours.

If you were to ask each sister who or what was responsible for the divide, each would give a different answer.

.

Andromeda wouldn't say it was their blood madness, or classist tendencies. She wouldn't even say it was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. No, if you asked Andromeda, the person truly at fault, if one person was to be blamed, was Rodolphus Lestrange.

Andromeda still remembers the first time they saw him. Bella and Cissy have forgotten the day, because they didn't realized the significance. But Annie saw the way he looked at Bellatrix, and she was scared. He was the first person who loved one sister and not the rest, and he tore their friendship apart. He was handsome, even as a boy, but he was dangerous. Most people didn't see that until it was too late- Rodolphus had sparkling blue eyes and deep dimples and a gleeful laugh that made him guilty of nothing. After he was sentenced, Andromeda would wonder, morbidly, if his victims ever knew. She wondered if he smiled as he killed them, the way he smiled as he led Bellatrix down a dark path that her sisters could not follow.

Andromeda remembers the first step. Bella was only a baby, seventeen; when she still fretted over gowns and combed her hair. Andromeda was fifteen, almost too young to understand, and Cissy had been just twelve, in her second year of school. The Blacks frequently hosted balls and galas, and the girls were home from Hogwarts. They had been excited that they were all allowed to attend, and while they couldn't stay up as late as the adults, they were still eager to discuss the events and guests of the evening.

Annie and Cissy went to bed when they were bid, after ten o'clock. The put on their nightgowns and crawled into Bella's big bed- but it soon became quite apparent that Bellatrix was nowhere to be found. They were worried but dared not interrupt Mother and Father; so they waited. It was after two, when almost all the grown-ups had left, that the eldest Black sister finally slipped into bed. Cissy was already asleep by then, her soft blonde hair in a long braid over her shoulder, her dark lashes resting in blissful innocence on her cheek.

"I had sex with him. Rodolphus," she added for clarification. Her words were blunt and tried to be careless, but Andromeda could feel the mattress trembling, just slightly. She could smell the smoky fragrance that always hung around Rodolphus; it was easy to identify because tobacco and myrrh were such odds scents for an eighteen year old boy. But he'd always had them. She didn't know how to respond.

"Are you... are you alright, Bella?" she whispered.

"Of course," she replied harshly. "I feel like..." Bella had never done well with similes. "Like a butterfly." She nodded emphatically, convinced this gave a proper image of carefree, liberated sense.

But Andromeda knew better. Andromeda had seen butterflies the moment they climbed out of their cocoons; they were fragile and translucent with crumpled wings and quivering movements. They were different. Changed. Never the same again.

The next step was teaching Bella, bright, talented Bella, how to hurt people. And how to enjoy it.

The third was giving her- this new, twisted Bella- to him, that awful, manlike thing.

Three years after that first step, though, Andromeda left. And it was all the fault of Rodolphus Lestrange.

Bellatrix disagrees. Bella is sure that, if it hadn't been for that disgusting Mudblood, Ted Tonks, Andromeda never would have left.

Bella can pinpoint it on one day, too. Annie had always been the most mistrustful of boys. Andromeda always seemed suspicious, convinced that they were just out to tear the sisters apart. A ridiculous notion, to be sure. There were plenty of decent Slytherin boys willing to prove that, too; Evan Rosier, in particular, could scarcely take his eyes off of her. But it was that day in May, when she and Annie were waiting for Cissy by the lake, more talking than studying for exams, as they claimed to be doing. Andromeda was fifteen at the time, and things had been slightly uncomfortable between them lately. Bellatrix wanted this to end, but couldn't for the life of her understand why it had even begun.

"Careful there; that's a lot of books you've got."

"Thank you." They looked up to see Narcissa approaching with an armful of texts, and a sixth year Hufflepuff with hair the color of sunshine helping to balance the stack. Narcissa arrived beside her sisters and, with his assistance, set the books on the ground.

"How are you today?" he asked the others, flashing a quick smile. "Bellatrix Black- I must say, your performance on the Dueling team is legendary' very impressive."

"What do you want, Mudblood?" Bella snapped. Andromeda scowled.

"Bella, be nice."

And that was it. Not, 'Bella, be courteous,' because it was expected that you treat inferiors as so insignificant that aloofness could pass as decency. No, Andromeda asked that she be 'nice.' Kind. Tolerant. But they were Black girls!

Bellatrix was not surprised when Andromeda ran away with him two years later. Betrayed, furious, of course. But the surprise came two years before the day Andromeda was blasted off the tapestry in Aunt Walburga's house, on that sunny day in May when Andromeda past ignored her upbringing, disregarded the loyalty of her sisters.

She saw what Andromeda saw, but she saw it differently. Andromeda saw a boy who was safe; a boy who could love all three sisters, who was gentle and everything that Rodolphus was not. Bellatrix saw that he was not Rodolphus, too; she saw that his blood wasn't pure, and was therefore unworthy.

Of life.

Narcissa had, a long time ago, ceased to feel guilty. In the beginning, guilt had consumed her. Later, it had only come in twinges, twinges quickly soothed when she looked at her infant son, or out the window of her gorgeous home. Now, Narcissa was almost able to convince herself that it would have happened anyway. That it wasn't really Lucius's fault.

But she knew it wasn't true.

On September first, eleven year old Cissy Black sat by herself in a compartment of the Hogwarts express, waiting for her sisters. However, the first person to slide open the door was not Bella or Annie; it was a boy. The most beautiful boy Narcissa had ever seen. And he smiled at her.

"Hello, there," he sidled into the seat across from her. He was only fourteen months older than she, but their birthdays fell in a way such that he was beginning his third year. "What's your name?"

"Narcissa Black. My sisters call me Cissy, though."

"I prefer 'Narcissa,'" he drawled, "and I'm Lucius Malfoy."

"Pleased to meet you," she replied shyly.

"This is your first year, isn't it? I've never seen you before."

"It is. I-"

"Little missy Cissy!" Bellatrix called in a sing-song voice, dancing in. "We thought we'd lost you!"

Andromeda followed, lugging her trunk. Neither of the older sisters noticed the fleeting look of distain from the boy in their midst, but Narcissa saw it, and somehow she knew; knew that one day, she would have to choose.

.

"Your first ball, Narcissa?"

She turned, thrilled to see that he was there, smirking mildly at her.

"It is; my mother generally doesn't permit me to-"

"Cissy," Andromeda laughingly called. "Mummy says bedtime!"

Narcissa cringed, but nodded. "Just a moment."

Once Annie left, Lucius murmured softly, "I like you, Narcissa."

Before she could express her delight in any way other than a pleased flush, he added in a barely audible undertone, "But I don't like your sisters." Before she could reply, he glanced over his shoulder. "Fortunately there are ways around that. Is that Rodolphus Lestrange, over there? If I'm not very much mistaken- and mind you, I rarely am- he is quite fond of your eldest sister. Is he not?"

"Yes; I think-"

"Good night, Narcissa. I'll see you at school."

She watched him leave, approach the Lestrange boy and whisper something, pointing to Bellatrix. Rodolphus went over to to Bella with a look that gave Narcissa chills. Bella didn't seem to mind, though. Later, that night, while Narcissa feigned sleep, she heard what Bella whispered and knew, deep inside, that Lucius had had something to do with it. And that it was bad. But she didn know why.

.

"Tonks?"

"Yeah, Malfoy?" The prefect turned warily to regard the Slytherin leaning lazily against a tree, flipping though a small book.

"You Hufflepuffs are all about hard work, aren't you?"

"What do you want?" he askedm rather uncharitably; he'd had enough experience with this blonde to know better than to let his guard down.

"Don't get touchy, Mudblood; there's a little girl over there that could use some help carrying her books over to where her sisters are. Thought maybe you could be useful." He returned to his reading. Ted rolled his eyes; he knew the girl was another Slytherin, and thought the arrogant boy might at least help a housemate. Ever the kind-hearted young man, he moved to assist, never guessing that in moments, he would look his soulmate in the eye for the first time.

.

"I wanted you," Lucius confessed at last. Narcissa had always suspected it, but now that she was his wife, he felt safe in the confession. "I didn't want to share you with anyone. Not even your family."

"I would have loved you best, anyway," she whispered, eyes closing as he stroked her cheek.

"Well, now you love me only." He ducked his head and kissed her softly. "And you are mine."

Narcissa wondered if it should have been so chillingly easy to sink into his words; but she had, a long time ago, stopped feeling guilty.