A/N - Not mine. I'm allowed to wish it was though, right?

'So. I hear a one Malfoy in interested in one of the Black sisters.'

Looking up, she grinned and stretched back. 'You ought tell Lucius that he hasn't got a shot at Andromeda. She thinks long hair looks effeminate on men, particularly blonds.'

Snorting, the standing figure dropping from the shadows onto the grass. 'Effeminate. What does that even mean, Cissy? Honestly, the state of affairs that even purebloods - as liberal as Drommie may be - use such muggle-isms? Effeminate. As though there's a bloody difference between men and women.'

'Oh, Trixie,' she sighed, smiling as she shook her head. 'Don't discount all the muggle-isms. I did so love the mental image of Dolohov and Nott in muggle women's clothes. Particularly those heels.'

'Is particularly the word of the day or something, Narcissa? I concede your point, though I don't know why muggle women would ever tolerate such discomfort just to be debased as a sexual object!'

'You'd be a feminist radical in their world, Trixie. I overheard Tonks blathering on about it; the second wave of feminism, he called it.'

Bellatrix Black made a face, leaning back from her sister as though her words were actually repulsive. 'I don't understand why Drommie insists on making nice with the would-be-muggles. They're just so disrespectful.'

'Because you're ever so very much more tolerant and aware of muggle culture and customs.'

Sticking her tongue out at her sister, Bellatrix grinned in that particular way she did, the one that made Narcissa think that one day, maybe, her sister could turn into something she wouldn't recognise. 'Well, we are their superiors.'

'Drommie would tell you that we're not. Except by our standards. And that the first generation consider the muggle world equal, but different.'

'The first generation,' Bellatrix scoffed, rolling her eyes. 'How can the muggle world be in any way, shape or form equal to ours? We're not perfect, granted, but we're not so dammed petty! I mean really, how can any self-respecting human - even the ones more slime than man - be proud of a culture that even after all their accomplishments and innovations still deems people hierarchical based on gender and race and place of birth. Honestly, Cissy, look at Dolohov! Does he go around parading his roots? Or do we go around insulting him? Or, oh, that other first year! Jordan or Johnson or something, was it? Merlin, that's what a muggle-born should feel coming into this world! The awe and respect and astonishment that this is what civilisation ought to look like. That a black or a Russian or an Arab - male or female - can come in and get what their capacity dictates they deserve.'

'You're a Slytherin, darling, of course you love the bureaucracy. But not everyone's a Slytherin, or our world would be perfect. It's not a bureaucracy and - whether by our own doing or by muggle influence, I honestly can't say - it's becoming more and more muggle. It's who you know and who your family is that's beginning to take over.'

'You don't sound upset. Andromeda'd be furious about it, you know.'

Narcissa smiled knowingly, looking out the corner of her eye at Bellatrix's cat-like stance. Her darling sister was always ready to pounce (it's only ever fitting to describe Bellatrix with italics, after all, she embodies the passion of them. Bellatrix lives in italics.) 'I think you might have been an Italian in a past life. You talk like that Zabini bloke who was at dinner over the holidays. All italics and passion, Trixie. Anyway, Drommie's an idealist. Her inner Ravenclaw loves the idea of a system where everyone at the top is the best.'

'Inner Ravenclaw? She is a Ravenclaw, Cissy. You're talking about her inner Hufflepuff that wants everyone to have flowers and butterflies and roses.'

'Roses are flowers, Bellatrix,' Narcissa wrinkled her nose, 'and we're not going about tossing my namesake's about at people. That's just rude. Though I can't say I would ever say no to a functional world.'

'If Lucius continues his interest in you, you might end up part of the dysfunctionality.'

'If I decide to keep him around, he can do as he likes. I, for one, am going to do research.'

Bellatrix's face lit up and she peered into her sister's fair features. 'Oh, goodness, Cissy, you're going to be the mother of the next generation of Malfoys! Goodness, with their library and access to resources, you'd never leave. Just make the next generation of Malfoys better than the current. Please.'

Narcissa laughed this time, loud and clear and happy, 'Oh, be nice! Lucius isn't so bad. Poncey, yes, but he's not like that to me.'

'Because he knows you'll shoot him down in a heartbeat if he ever were to take that attitude with you. For all of Drommie's loud-mouthed idealism and my passion, and don't you dare ever tell me I sound like that Zabini twat ever again! I think you might the strongest of us. You'll out-last us all.'

Looking up sharply, echoes of what would come pulsated from the small bubble of the still-beautiful Black world. Lowering her eyes as she wished fervently that Bellatrix hadn't said such a thing, Narcissa's voice was soft, 'We'll see.'

Something about the Black sisters as disjointed and dysfunctional didn't quite sit right. But this, confusion and misunderstandings and presuppositions and paths-taken, makes them feel real. I've deliberately given no ages or years and ranks and whatnot. Hope you enjoy!