A/N: Whew! Thank heavens for a break in the steady flow of assessments, it gives me the chance to go through my files- and discover old fics like these! It's been a while since I wrote it, but oh well. What's the use of writing if the story languishes away, completely unread? So without any further ado, I give you:

Sisters

Teddy is sleeping in the chair by the fireplace. He looks so serene, with his face like Remus', and his violet hair- like his mother's, so long ago.

Dora.

God, Dora, why did you leave the room?

A cry catches itself in my throat, but I choke it back. I am a Black. And Blacks don't cry.

I hear a knock at the door, and rise from my chair.

"Droma," a voice whispers from behind the darkness.

I know that voice. I know it so well, but I haven't heard it say my name for God knows how long.

"Droma, please let me in."

Cissy.

The last time I saw you, you wished death upon my family. You got your wish. Are you happy now?

"Droma, please."

I want to blast the door in her face, scream at her, hit her, again and again- but, against my will, my hand drifts to the door, twists the handle open.

There is a flurry of gold- Cissy always had the most beautiful hair- and suddenly she is clutching me, holding me as a sister, as she has never done, not for years. And she is crying on my shoulder, crying as a Black never cries, without composure- aren't the Malfoys always composed?

"Droma," she says again.

And though anger still burns in my heart, I find myself reaching out, stroking her tangled hair as I used to, oh so many years ago. Back when we were sisters.

"Wait for me!"

I turn around, step off the Hogwarts Express.

"Cissy! Go back to Mother and Father."

Cissy's golden hair whips around her face, her eyes fill with tears.

"Don't leave me, Droma! I'll come with you, I'm meant to go to Hogwarts, too!"

I'm afraid to touch her- Blacks don't touch each other, and Mother may be watching.

"That's not for years, Cissy."

Her face crumples.

"I promise I'll Owl you, Cissy. I promise."

Pressing a ribbon into her hand, I step back onto the train.

Aboard the train, I watch as Cissy runs the entire platform, waving until the train is gone.

Distinctly, I hear Cissy whisper something.

"Sorry," she says, over and over. "I'm sorry."

Sorry! Years and years you've hated me, tried to kill my family- tortured my husband and watched my daughter die, for all I know, and all you can say is sorry!

Then the thought hits me again, that awful, cold realisation- I have nobody but Teddy. And I must be his everybody.

Ted- oh, Ted, why didn't you leave the country?

(Why did I make you leave?)

"I'll be round, Droma," you had said- and then you left, and never came back.

And Dora, my darling girl, my scatterbrained, reckless girl- where are you now?

(And I could never get back at Bellatrix for all she's done. I'd never hated Molly Weasley so much.)

"Hate, Droma? That's a pretty strong word," I hear you say once more. You were at home then, looking so innocent and so perplexed, and you took me into your arms and held me.

"I hate them," I had murmured back, "I hate them for all that they've done, for all they've taken from me."

And the tears come, despite all my reservations, running through Cissy's perfect blonde hair, and she is holding on me, hugging me- back like when we were children. (when we were sisters)

We sit there for hours, just the two of us.

It isn't until Teddy wakes up that Cissy raises her face, and says quietly, "I must go home."

And then the knife is twisting once more, reminding me of the home that I once had, the home I can't go to.

You have Lucius and your son. You have Lucius and your son.

Before she leaves the door, she turns around and looks at me, her ice grey eyes piercing.

"She was my niece too," she whispers, and leaves.

And somehow, that makes it just that tiny bit more bearable.