Narcissa Malfoy missed her sister. Even though Bellatrix had turned into some kind of monster after joining the Death Eaters, Narcissa missed her older sister terribly. Narcissa remembered her, not as the masochist she had become, but the sweet, yet slightly sassy, young girl that she once used to idolize. She remembered her as her play mate, as her sister. The sister that used to play tag with Sirius and herself, the sister that would have risked her life anyday for her younger siblings.

Then she had met the Dark Lord. And the monster that he is, she loved him. Yes, she was married, but Rudolphus didn't seem to deserve her attention as much as He did. Then, Narcissa's once almost sweet sister, had turned sadistic, evil, vile, cruel. The years she spent in Azkaban changed her. No one quiet understood Bellatrix from the beginning, no one but her youngest sister. Narcissa had always been the shy, sensitive Black, who seemed to know everything about a person she had just met. It wasn't until after Bellatrix had lost her last hint of sanity, that Narcissa had stopped trying to help her. After she killed her favorite cousin. The cousin they used to play with when they were young. When she killed Sirius.

And even after all the things she had done, Narcissa had never stopped loving her sister. Even after she was killed, she continued to love her. Continued to miss her. And now, as she sat on her older sister's bed, head in her hands, she missed her. But after looking over her room, after staring at each picture of her sister for hours, she realized that there were certain things that she was glad had died with Bellatrix.

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