[Wheeeee. Wrote this a few days ago, or so. I actually quite like it.

It's a bit confusing, but I'll give a hint at the end.

Characters © JKR and the WB. My take on them, however, is wholly mine.

Cheers.]

Bellatrix swore she could count the stars.

"Don't be stupid, that's impossible," Lucius would scoff; yet despite this he'd look up at the night sky with his friend and try to number them all.

"S'not," she'd cry, offended, "He taught me too, He did."

In the day they would sit out in the golden fields and enjoy the sun, and nap in the warmth; at night they'd still be there, but the fields would be grey, and the sky would be vivid with little jewels of light.

Sometimes Severus would join them, but rarely; they were sixteen, after all, and he was just twelve, and as a child he did not conceive what they thought to be miraculous, amazing. He just liked their company, so they gave it to him freely; but yet, he did not understand.

Sometimes, Lucius felt the same way.

"How many stars, then?" he'd ask, frustrated. Bella's shadowy face would gleam with a grin; her dark lips spread, her eyes glittering.

"How many do you feel there are?" she'd tease, and he'd pull up handfuls of grass, and throw them at her.

June turned to July, and July to August – school was not too far away. Near the beginning of this end, He came along, and sat with them.

"How many stars?" Lucius ventured.

Voldemort shrugged lazily, "How many do you feel there are?" he responded, with the merest hint of amusement.

Lucius could not throw grass at the Dark Lord – it just wasn't done – so he sulked a little instead.

Summer turned to school. Lucius and Bellatrix worked on astronomy homework, and Bellatrix splotched little designs on his cheek with the ink from her quill. She was always such a child.

"How many stars?" She'd mock.

"Get back to work, bint," He'd mutter.

"I'll tell you how many I think there are," she went on, "There are eight."

"Eight?"

"Yes," she continued, heedless of his tone, "Eight. There could have been nine, but…" her voice lowered, "The ninth one couldn't light."

She looked sad.

Lucius went back to his work.

Lucius graduated with flying colours, as always. He bid farewell to Severus; and he went into the world with a whirl of his coat and the ticking of his pocket watch. Bellatrix went with him.

"Sirius, the Dogstar…" Bella would say, in the lonely nights as they traveled, as they lived, "That's a star."

"So's Andromeda," Lucius responded.

"No, that's a constellation, I think…"

"Whatever."

Lucius even remembered sitting down with the Dark Lord, preparing to receive the Dark Mark. But before the ceremony, Voldemort had turned His piercing scarlet eyes on Lucius's grey; smiled a thin little smile on His unshaven face that glittered despite the darkness that seemed to follow Him everywhere.

"How many stars?" He asked.

Lucius shrugged, bewildered. "I don't know."

"I think there are none, and the sky is black," said Voldemort, softly, "but I feel that I am wrong, and I do not enjoy it."

Lucius said nothing, not even when the Mark burned and burrowed into his skin and sent shearing, agonizing pains jolting throughout his arm. It wouldn't do to press the Dark Lord further, after all.

Lucius grew a little older.

He got married to Bella's younger sister, to everyone's puzzlement. Narcissa was pretty and lovely and fragile, yes – but Narcissa was no competition to Bella.

But whatever had happened, they got married. And Lucius was pleased, and their wedding was outrageous.

On the night Narcissa was giving birth to her son, Lucius sat in his study, accompanied by Severus – now a tall, slender young man, with a sharp wit and a deadly smirk. Bellatrix was in the upper chamber, aiding her sibling.

"How many stars in the sky, Severus?" Lucius asked, more scruffy-looking and haggard than usual.

His companion looked thoughtful; then he gave Lucius a look, and said, simply, "Two."

Lucius still didn't understand. He had a feeling he never would.

But something happened, hours later – when he was passed his son, his heir, his future. Something happened when he looked into the child's face for the first time, felt the floor give way under his feet, felt the roof open up to the heavens, to the cosmos, whirling above his beautiful head and whispering secrets into his too-mortal ears.

"Five," he whispered. "There are five."

[Yaaaay! Hint:

Stars shine in the darkest of nights, and in the case of some stars and constellations, they point you in the right direction.

Mmmph, I wuff my Lucius.]