Even though you will never speak the words, I can tell that you need me by the way you are looking at me. I walk over to you and gently take your hand in my own, and you just as gently lay your head on my shoulder.

You don't cry. You don't speak. You don't make any sounds at all. But I can tell that you appreciate me being that, that me just being there is enough to comfort you for at least this moment.

We have always been able to communicate with each other so well without having to speak any words. A subtle look. A subtle gesture. With those nonverbal cues we are able to understand each other perfectly.

Not that we aren't also able to communicate and to comfort each other with words. Many times when I was young, you were able to comfort me with your words.

I was the youngest of three children. I was the insignificant one.

I believed in blood purity, but Bellatrix was definitely more extreme in expressing those beliefs.

I was no killer. I was no torturer.

Andromeda was the rebel, the one who went against the rules.

I was nothing but a little girl who followed all the rules and was always obedient.

I was also the only Black sister not named after a constellation or any of the stars.

Instead, I was named after a flower.

I was nothing but a flower.

Back when we were children, you found me crying one day in my family's garden, and I was immediately embarrassed and scared. We were arranged by our families to be married one day, but you had never expressed any happiness over that. Instead, you had always had a cold, uninterested expression on your face whenever my parents insisted that we spend some time together.

You didn't want anything to do with me. No one wanted anything to do with me. I was just the little flower.

But you surprised me. You asked me what was wrong, and you seemed genuinely concerned.

I told you what Bellatrix and Sirius had told me earlier that day. Both had told me that I was nothing but a flower. Both saw me as weak and pathetic, even though I would have liked to believe that Bellatrix cared at least a little about me. We were, after all, sisters.

But then again Andromeda was my sister as well, and even though she never called me a delicate flower, she never said anything to defend me either.

You told me not to let Bellatrix and Sirius get to me. You told me that Bellatrix didn't have half my brains, and that Sirius had always had his head stuck up his arse.

I couldn't help but smile at the mental image that you had made of Sirius. Sirius had always thought that he was better than me because, like Andromeda, he was a rebel. He had never followed the rules like I always did.

I was also flattered that you would think that I was smarter than Bellatrix. Before that day in the garden, I had been convinced that you had seen me as nothing more than a silly girl.

But I then remembered the day you had walked into my family's study when I was reading a philosophy book. You had not said anything to me, but you had nodded your head in a way that could have been considered approving. You had even sat beside me on the couch for a few minutes. You didn't say anything, but at least you tolerated my presence for a few minutes.

I had wanted to say something to you that day in the study because I had remembered hearing your father mention that you loved philosophy.

I had wanted to discuss the book I was reading with you, but I had been afraid of sounding stupid.

So I kept silent.

Back to that day in the garden. After you had insulted both Bellatrix and Sirius, you had then preceded to tell me a story about a giant, man-eating flower that was known for eating only the most powerful of wizards and witches.

You then me that you had heard many stories, but you had never heard any stories about man-eating stars.

Only flowers ate great wizards and witches, not stars.

I laughed. You frowned and your eyes narrowed in anger, thinking that I was laughing at you. I quickly explained that I wasn't laughing at you, that I would never laugh at you because you were too brilliant for that.

Your eyes lit up with both surprise and happiness when I called you brilliant.

I didn't understand why you would be so surprised by my praise. You had always had an intelligence, a charisma, and a confidence that I had both admired and envied. Whenever you walked into a room, everyone immediately took notice. You didn't have to say anything. All you had to do was just stand there in all your majestic glory, and that was enough to make people worship you.

Including me.

Even though I had thought I was as insignificant to you as I was to everyone else, I could not help but worship you.

You had always been significant in my eyes.

I remember crying on your shoulder when Andromeda had been disowned by the family for marrying a Muggle-born.

Andromeda and I had never been close, but she had always been nicer to me than Bellatrix had.

You didn't mock me for crying, just like you had not mocked me that day you had caught me crying in my family's garden.

Instead, you held me, and you told me that everything was going to be fine.

You didn't insult Andromeda in any way, even though you would have had every right to do so considering that Andromeda had never ever been nice to you. In fact, she had always treated you with what could be called polite disdain. She had been a lady, but she had never had problems with expressing that she didn't care much for you.

However, you cared more about comforting me than hating Andromeda. You told me that it was understandable that I would be hurting so much, but you also told me that what Andromeda had done would not bring me down. You told me that I would survive this because I was much too strong not to survive this.

I had never before been called strong, and I couldn't see how you could consider me strong. After all, this was the second time you had caught me crying.

I now know you saw something in me that I had yet to see for myself. You had always been more observant than those Muggle-lovers had given you credit for.

I remember several years later when we were at Hogwarts. You and a group of Slytherins were discussing politics. You had always had the mind of a politician, while I was hopeless at politics, even though you always insisted otherwise.

You noticed that I was listening. Then, you suddenly asked what I thought.

My mouth dropped open. True, my grades were among the best, but I was most definitely no politician. I was just a silly little girl.

You asked me again what I thought, an eager, hopeful expression on your face.

I gave you my opinion, and you nodded your head approvingly. You even told me that you had never thought of it quite that way, and that I had definitely made a very good point.

The other Slytherins with you looked at me with a newfound respect. If the great Lucius Malfoy said that the little Narcissa Black had made a good point in a political discussion, then the little Narcissa Black was definitely someone worthy of respect.

I was no longer the silly little girl.

And it was all because of you. It was all because you respected me and you noticed me.

No one else had ever before respected me and noticed me.

You were the only person that saw my true worth.

It had just been hard for you to express that to me at first.

Emotions had always been hard for you. Even though you had seen me cry several times already by this point, I had yet to ever see you cry.

Purebloods were expected to control their emotions, but purebloods were willing to make some exceptions with the females, just as long as the females never cried in front of those considered to be less worthy.

Pureblood males, on the other hand, were not allowed any exceptions. Pureblood males simply were not allowed to cry. Ever. Not even in private.

I now know that was why you never mocked me for crying or considered me weak for crying.

Because you had wished that you also had been allowed to cry.

I had always seen you as the strong, confident one who could not be bought down by anything.

I learned one day in Malfoy Manor that you were just as vulnerable as I was.

You just were not allowed to express that vulnerability.

I had decided that I had wanted to visit you at your manor for once. Before this day, you had always come to visit me at my manor.

Looking back now, I could tell that the idea of me visiting you frightened you.

Looking back now, I know it was because you were afraid I would think less of you if I knew the truth.

I could never think less of you.

As were walking through the Malfoy garden, I could tell that you were in pain, even though you were doing a pretty good job of hiding it. By this time, however, I had grown to know you well enough that I could read your eyes.

I could see the pain in your eyes.

I asked you what was wrong. You told me, very quickly and very defensively, that nothing was wrong.

I told you that I could tell you were having problems with walking, that I could tell you were in pain.

You looked around to ensure that we were alone. I couldn't blame you. I could never explain why, but something about your father had always scared me. I had never told you this, though, because I didn't want you to think that I was silly.

I had never been scared by Bellatrix, even though as a young girl she had already been demented and cruel.

I was, however, scared by Abraxas Malfoy, even though he had never openly done anything to give me cause to be so fearful of him. All he had ever done to me was look at me like I was some insignificant worm, the same look I was used to receiving from the likes of Sirius.

There was something different, however, about the way that Abraxas Malfoy looked at me as compared to how Sirius looked at me.

Back to our walk in the Malfoy gardens. You whispered to me only two words, but those two words were enough to explain everything.

My father.

You didn't say anything further, and I didn't press you. I just took your hand in my own and held it gently.

You then told me not to say anything about that day because your father didn't like people, not even other Purebloods, spreading vicious rumors about him. You told me that your father could be dangerous when he was angry, and he didn't care about anyone, much less a little girl.

Even if that little girl had blood as pure as his.

I nodded my head in understanding, even though I wanted to say something to someone.

It wasn't fair.

But it was the Pureblood way.

Pureblood parents had three different ways in which they raised their children.

The children were either overly indulged, almost completely ignored, or abused.

Pureblood parents could either be too lenient or too strict.

The Pureblood society lived by the expression, "Don't speak. Just accept."

We were, after all, purebloods. We were the elite. We were not weak. We didn't need anyone to help us. We may sometimes use others to make things easier on us, but we didn't really need those people.

I wish I had been braver back then.

I wish I could be brave now.

The Dark Lord has taken over our manor. We are prisoners in our own home.

And there's nothing we can do about it.

We just have to accept it because there is no one who can help us.

There is no one who cares about us.

Only now do I realize just how alone in the world we really are.

We only have ourselves.

A lifetime of untold, hidden suffering has taken away much of your strength. The bruises on your face are painfully obvious. The Dark Lord has no reason to try to hide them. The Dark Lord has no reason to hide them like your father did for so many years.

No one is going to say anything.

How can the world be so cruel? How can the world continue to ignore your pain?

Sometimes I wish you were not so good at hiding your inner pain. Maybe then the world would actually care about you like I care about you.

I wish you would cry. You know I wouldn't think less of you if you cried. If there's anyone who deserves a chance to cry, it's you.

For your whole life, you have always presented yourself as strong and unbreakable. As a proper Pureblood male, you were not allowed to show anyone that you could be broken.

You were never allowed to be weak.

But I could never think of you as weak. You are stronger than you give yourself credit for.

You have always been my protector, and you continue to be protector even now.

You have told me not to draw attention to myself.

Let the Dark Lord think that I am insignificant.

Let the Dark Lord think that I am nothing more than a weak, dedicate flower.

You just want me to be as safe as I can possibly be at a time like this.

And I am definitely much safer than you are.

As is our beloved son Draco.

You try your best to take the beatings meant for the entire family. You are always able to draw the Dark Lord's attention from me and Draco when the Dark Lord is angry and needs someone to take that anger out on.

You have always been a great politician.

Sometimes I wish you weren't such a great politician, even though I am flattered that you care so much about me and Draco that you would endure pain for our sakes.

I need you to know that I love you, even though I know you don't like it when I speak those words.

But I know that you love me as well, even though you have never spoken the words.

We don't need to speak the words.

We know our love for each other by just looking at each other, by just touching each other.

And because of that love we will somehow survive this, survive the Dark Lord.

We are too strong and we have already suffered too much not to survive this.

Besides, am I not a flower? And did you not once tell me the story of a giant, man-eating flower that only eats the greatest of wizards and witches?

You are truly my source of strength.

You have always been strong for me.

Now it is my turn to be strong for you.