Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

A/N: Hello! This is my second story, featuring someone whom I view as one of the most fascinating characters in Harry Potter. After reading some fics by the wonderful our dancing days, I started wondering about the nature of the relationship between the Black sisters (and to a lesser extent, their cousins). This is what happened. Please enjoy!

Counting Stars

You're going to be the brightest.

When you visit Auntie Walburga, you never can quite meet the eyes of all those portraits in her hall. They are distinguished and old and brilliant, and you? You're just beautiful Bella, with blazing ideals and a temper to match. How can an eleven-year-old girl ever hope to match the stars?

So instead of looking at the portraits, you walk on up to the living room, where the tapestry of your family stands. You are just another name on there; just another bit of glowing golden thread on centuries-old black velvet. You stare up at the hundreds of people above you, all bright deeds and brilliance, and it's like you're counting stars. How can you shine beside them?

"Stargazing again, Bella?"

Drommie comes up behind you silently, leaning against the wall with casual elegance. A few strands of hair flutter in front of her eyes, and you frown. Recently, your sister has been failing to deport herself with the aloofness necessary of a Black; right now, her eyes sparkle and there's a smile playing about her lips. You have more important matters on your mind, though, so you let it pass.

"How many stars do you think there are, Drommie?" you ask, keeping your eyes on the diamond-studded sky outside the window.

"Many," she answers, flicking her hair over one shoulder. "Too many. Why? Are you thinking of counting them?"

You heave a small sigh. "I want to shine, you know."

"You will," she assures you. "Cissy is the flower, and I'm the princess, and you can be the warrior queen – remember?"

You smile at the memory of childhood games before a thought comes to you. "But warriors are mortal too," you tell Drommie earnestly, twisting round to look at her. "I think I'm better suited to a star."

Drommie laughs, but you're serious. Your eyes travel to the tapestry that hangs on the other side of the room, and you imagine shining twenty times as bright as all the rest of them.

Of course, you have competition for your position as brightest.

"Sirius!" Cissy scolds. "Just – sit – down!"

The child laughs, increasing the speed of his dancing around the room tenfold. "You can't make me do anything I don't want to!" he cries wildly. "What're you going to do, Cissy, cast the Imperius on me? Surely you wouldn't dare to do that to the Black heir, would you?"

"Sirius." Drommie rises from her chair and places her hand on his shoulder. "Just sit down for now. Then once the grown-ups come in, I'll take you and Reggie upstairs and we can have a Gobstones tournament, alright?" Sirius glowers at her for a moment, before sitting down in a chair – although not without making Cissy's parasol burst into flames.

Your sister glares at the boy, but you watch him approvingly. He has spirit, energy and an obvious aptitude for magic, and one day you think he might make a worthy ally as you rise in importance through the ranks of the family. He will join Hogwarts next month, and then you will be able to properly observe his potential.

Because Drommie glows in her rose-pink robes and Cissy shimmers in pale green; Sirius blazes in silver and little Reggie twinkles in white. You're going to shine, though, aren't you? Shine in blood-red.

Drommie walks over to the tapestry on the wall, and traces her glowing name on the black velvet. There is a mysterious smile on her face. After a moment, you stop trying to puzzle her out and turn your attention back to the real stars outside.

The next time you see that tapestry, Drommie's star is a black hole.

Your new master aims to cleanse the wizarding world of polluting filth, and as one of his most devout followers you think you are well on your way to shining. Your competition isn't doing too well – Drommie doesn't exist and Cissy's just a pretty preening peacock these days; Sirius is Gryffindor filth and Reggie's only a baby. The other stars just can't burn as bright as you.

You marry and your name changes – Bellatrix Lestrange now – but you're still a Black at heart and you're shining. Whenever you see the night sky, you know that you're brighter than them all, and that makes you smile.

Then Drommie glows with motherhood and Cissy's shimmering is for her husband to watch; Sirius is a black hole just like Drommie and Regulus twinkles a bit more. And you carry out the Dark Lord's orders gladly, each time shining brighter.

You still visit Auntie Walburga every now and then, and you walk past the portraits in the hall with your head held high. You count the stars on the tapestry and smile proudly when you reach your name at the bottom.

Then the Dark Lord vanishes and all your rage burns bright within you; you don't think you've ever shone so much as when you were making the Aurors scream. Drommie's far away and Cissy shimmers sadly; Reggie's twinkled out and you know you can shine in the darkness of Azkaban.

But what you're not expecting is Sirius, blazing with anger and innocence in the cell opposite. You scream or laugh when the shadows overcome you, but he stays still and silent all the time. Gryffindors really are fools.

Now you're free, free, and shining as you kneel before the Dark Lord once more. Drommie's just a memory and Cissy's changed, and Sirius blazes brighter than ever but that doesn't matter because you snuff him out.

There is nothing like the thrill of fighting to make you shine, and you have plenty of opportunities to do that. But the best part is always casting the Dark Mark above your victims' bodies, seeing it shine brighter than all the countless stars in the night sky. You're addicted to it, maybe – the cold exhilaration of being better than them all, of claiming the Dark Lord's favour. You're just so bright, and when you're this high up nothing can make you fall.

But Bella, darling, even the brightest stars burn out.

Reggie twinkled, small and fragile and easily extinguished. Sirius blazed, blazed so bright that he had to go out with a bang. You hope you'll do the same, when your time comes. It wouldn't do to die quietly, would it now?

And it's every bit as perfect as you wanted: a flash of light and a wild laugh and a tinge of regret because you've never lost a duel before. It doesn't really matter, though, because you shone blindingly bright in that final battle; you've imprinted yourself on the insides of people's eyelids.

So in the end, Drommie glows (she's lost so much, but at least she has her grandson) and Cissy shimmers (did you hear that she saved Harry Potter's life?) and Reggie twinkled (he died to bring down You-Know-Who, apparently). You shone, though: bright and brilliant and every bit as perfect as the stars. But you weren't the brightest after all, you know: even you were eclipsed, even your star was dimmed in comparison.

Because the Dog Star is the brightest of them all.

A/N: Well, that's it! I hope you enjoyed it; please leave a review!

~Butterfly