Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns these characters; I do not.
"Who were your sisters, Mum?" Nymphadora asked me. "Please tell me…Dad has told me all about his family, I've met them, too, but you never talk about yours, besides Uncle Sirius. And whenever he comes to visit, he always says that I need to hear about your sisters from you."
I sighed, stroking my daughter's hair.
"Bellatrix was a year older than me. She was spirited and daring, always wanting the next thrill." I paused, overcome with memories of Bella laughing, climbing trees, running and playing with me and Narcissa. Then darker memories began to push those away: Bella showing me and Cissy her Dark Mark, Bella torturing a man, Bella rounding on me and Ted, her beautiful face in an expression of hurt and anger. "She was very passionate about everything she did, and quite dramatic, too." I left it at that.
"And what about Narcissa?" My daughter prompted.
"Narcissa was a year younger than me. She was our parents' favorite. She was sweet and polite – on the outside. And on the inside, too, most of the time. But she was far from the perfect daughter that she presented to the world." I grinned, thinking of how Narcissa would complain to me and Bella about how boring the parties Mother threw were. "She was a true romantic, and although she supported Bella's cause, she wasn't as fanatical about it." I stopped abruptly, not wanting to go any further than that. I had never had a real childhood, separated completely from politics, and so I was determined to give it to my daughter.
"Do you miss them?" Nymphadora asked softly.
I nodded. "I love them just as much as I love you and Ted. It's so sad." I realized that I was crying, despite my attempts to hold the tears back. "Despite the things that they've done, particularly Bella…I still love them."
My daughter's mouth dropped open. "Why don't you tell them that you want to be friends again?"
I sighed again, envying how innocent and naive Nymphadora was. "I should. But I'm too proud. I suppose I truly am a Black."
