So I have to blame this on Mrs. Ginger Hinkley's wonderful story, Dancing Through Thunderstorms. If you haven't read that, you need to do so NOW. It's an amazing series on the Black sisters, probably the best I've ever read.

Anywho, this is a continuation of the "Aging" chapter. None of the characters belong to me; they're all a product of the lovely JK Rowling's imagination.

All of her most emotional moments with Bella, good or bad, seemed to happen in the rain.

So thought Narcissa as she lay in bed, sleep gently settling over her mind in a soft blanket of bliss. Hazily she allowed her mind to wander over the day's events and couldn't help but smirk upon remembering the faces of her guests as she strutted into the ballroom completely soaked, hair straggled and clinging to her face but radiating the confidence, grace and imperious manner of a queen. Her dress had been rather uncomfortable seeing as it was completely soaked and therefore weighed her down, but on the whole being wet hadn't really bothered her much. Strange, seeing as she was the most proper out of the three Black sisters.

No, not three—just two. As Narcissa thought yet again of Andromeda, clarity was brought sharply back to mind in the form of pain streaking through her chest, but for the first time anger was intertwined with the grief. This was supposed to be Narcissa's day, but most of it had been spent crying over her blood-traitor of a sister and then, just when Bella had succeeded in cheering her up and the night had been so pleasant, the stupid prat had to pop into her mind again and bring it all rushing back. Her fists clenched on the silken sheets as she experienced a very sudden and very intense desire to throw something, preferably something breakable.

Narcissa probably would have done it, too, if a sudden rap on the window hadn't startled her. Throwing back her covers, the blonde swung her legs out of bed and was surprised to see a great horned owl standing on the windowsill. Odd; all of her family and friends had been at the party, so she couldn't fathom who would have to mail anything. Still, it wouldn't do to leave the creature outside.

As Narcissa opened the window, cool night air washed over her face, crisp and fresh from the afternoon's rain. She closed her eyes briefly, enjoying the way the wind stroked through her hair, before untying a parcel from the owl's proffered leg. As soon as the package was free, the owl hooted and took off.

A bit surprised that it hadn't at least stayed to see if she wanted to send a note or something in return, Narcissa returned to her bed without bothering to close the window. Slipping a finger underneath the folds of paper, she tore it off and gasped as a beautiful silver box came into view, sparkling in the darkness of the room. Upon opening the lid Narcissa found herself looking at a slim golden ring adorned with sapphires the exact same shade as her eyes. Although not the most sumptuous of pieces, the ring was still clearly of quite a high caliber and she couldn't help but wonder who had sent it. Perhaps Lucius; the thought made her stomach jump with excitement, but then a flash of white happened to catch her eye. Looking down, Narcissa saw an envelope sitting on the bed in front of her, presumably having fallen out of the package when it had been opened. Her heart began to pound; she recognized the neat, flowing script. Narcissa's throat closed as she picked up the letter with quivering hands and somehow managed to open it.

Dearest Cissy,

Narcissa almost dropped the letter right there. Three years—three years of absolutely no contact with Andromeda—and then she had the nerve to start her first correspondence in such a manner? A voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Bella was screaming at her to throw the blasted thing away and pretend like nothing had ever happened, but (even though she refused to acknowledge it) Narcissa was so glad to see some proof that Andromeda still existed—that she cared—and so kept reading.

I don't know if you'll even read this or not, but I couldn't let your seventeenth go by unnoticed. I'm sorry that you got this so late, but I waited until I knew everyone else would be asleep. I can't risk Druella or Cygnus tracing my owl—or, Merlin forbid, Bella.

I miss you, little flower. Not a day goes by that I don't think of you and wonder how you're doing. I think of Bella too, but now I more wonder how deep into the shadows she's gotten and how much of her I would still recognize if I had stayed. I hate what she's doing to you, dragging you down with her, but you're not like her and I know you never will be, and one day that will be what saves you.

Happy seventeenth, Narcissa. I know you'll make the Black family proud.

Always yours,

Andromeda

Narcissa's vision was blurred when she finished the letter. Parchment slipping from limp fingers, she buried her face in her hands, wishing desperately to reach into the words and find the joy and security that had been hers so very long ago. Wishing that her fingers could curl around a fallen star and lift it back up into the heavens.

But when Meda had fallen, she had also burned out. Now she was gone somewhere her little sister could not find her. Gripping the ring so tightly that its gemstones cut into her palm, Narcissa choked, "I miss you, Andromeda."

Only the black sky heard her cry.