For NoSecretsHere, via the Monthly Oneshot Exchange (Narcissa, Bellatrix, jealousy, tragedy)

Word Count: 1,001

I.

"It isn't fair!" Narcissa stamps her foot and folds her arms over her chest, lips poking out into a pout. "I wanna go to Hogwarts too!"

Bellatrix rolls her eyes before carefully folding her acceptance letter with an impatient snort. "You're too little, Cissy," she says flatly. "You can't go."

"I'm big too!"

Her eldest sister offers her no sympathy. Andromeda has always been the nicest. She would have something sweet to say now. Bellatrix, on the other hand, just shakes her head.

"You're little," she says, placing her hand on top of Narcissa's head and ruffling the pale strands as if to emphasize exactly how much taller Bellatrix is. "Too little to go to Hogwarts."

Narcissa continues to pout. It always works on their mother, so, maybe if she pouts hard enough, Bellatrix will be able to let her go to Hogwarts. It doesn't work, of course. Narcissa gets pushed to the side while the family fawns over the eleven year.

"You'll be the first of my girls in Slytherin," their mother says proudly.

Narcissa sulks, unnoticed by the others. It's then that she realizes she will always live in Bellatrix's shadow.

II.

Narcissa stares at the button in front of her. Admittedly, it isn't her best work. The match head it had originally been is still noticeable along the edges of what should be a smooth, plastic button.

Professor McGonagall comes a stop in front of her. The Slytherin tenses; she can't help but feel nervous. Bellatrix is excellent in Transfiguration, and Andromeda rarely fails at anything. The professor's eyes are sharp and critical as she lifts the button and examines it.

"I expect better from you, Miss Black," the older woman says, and Narcissa is grateful that she speaks softly so that the other students cannot hear. "Your eldest sister's first attempt was nearly flawless."

"Yes, Professor," Narcissa mumbles. "I'll try harder."

But that's the problem. She's thrown herself into her studies. There is hardly enough time for anything else because she's too busy trying to improve, trying to match her sisters.

No matter how hard she tries, she cannot measure up. Her sister's shadow only seems to grow.

III.

"I'm thirteen," Narcissa groans. "You got to attend Mother and Father's parties when you were thirteen!"

Bellatrix scowls as she adjusts her dress. "It isn't a regular party," she says impatiently, tucking her dark curls behind her ear. "It's a party for those old enough to be married, Cissy. You're too young to think about that."

It isn't quite true. Narcissa already has her eyes on an older boy from a good family. Bellatrix, however, doesn't care about marriages and love. She's only going along with this because it's her duty to find a husband to keep the bloodline strong and pure.

Narcissa should be the one out there, dancing with handsome suitors and basking in the adoration. She would laugh and smile like a good little Pureblood and prove herself to be the wife of any man's dreams. Bellatrix will never appreciate such a sacred thing. She'll probably be bored the whole night or try to hex any man who looks at her.

"You'll have your time," her sister assures her, patting Narcissa's cheek. The gesture is half affectionate, half condescending. "But not tonight, Cissy. One day."

As her sister walks away, Narcissa stares after her, wiping envious tears from her eyes. It isn't fair that Bellatrix gets everything that Narcissa dreams of.

IV.

The wedding hurts. Narcissa watches as Bellatrix stands before Rodolphus, looking utterly bored.

Rodolphus deserves better; he deserves someone who would truly love him and cherish being his wife— someone like Narcissa.

"She makes such a lovely bride, doesn't she?" her father praises, a proud grin on his usually stern face.

Narcissa would be more lovely. She would be radiant, fueled by her love for Rodolphus and the joy of spending an eternity by his side. Bellatrix, as beautiful as she looks, does not glow. There's a darkness about her, as though storm clouds have engulfed her, but no one else seems to see it.

"Absolutely gorgeous," Narcissa agrees mechanically because she is a good Pureblood, and good Pureblood women never speak out, even when their hearts are breaking.

V.

The war is over, and Narcissa can breathe again. The moment the Dark Lord falls, she feels as though a weight has been lifted from her, as though there is one less burden for her to carry.

She is careful as she makes her way through the corridor. Her sister's body is with the others who had backed the wrong side, as though her presence will taint the heroic fallen.

People watch her as she passes, and she hears them whisper with each step she takes, but she forces herself to keep her head high. She is not here for them; she has to see Bellatrix one last time, if only to comprehend that her sister is truly gone.

Bellatrix looks so peaceful in death. She has died with so much blood on her hands, but she has died with pride. Narcissa shudders at the thought.

Once, she had longed to be like her sister. Bellatrix had always managed to have everything that Narcissa had wanted. Now, in the end, it seems so silly.

"Do you need anything?" Lucius asks gently, his hand trembling as he rests it upon her shoulder.

She leans against him, her eyes still fixed upon her fallen sister. Her husband is safe; he may face imprisonment, but he is alive, and there is hope for them. Her son has survived, though he will have to carry the weight of his choices in the war for the rest of his days.

Bellatrix has died without love in her heart, without anything but hatred and blind fanaticism. Narcissa has survived with her family intact and hope for a brighter tomorrow.

"No," she answers at last, embracing her husband and turning her back on Bellatrix. "I have everything I need."