Disclaimer: All recognizable content belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing. No money is being made from this.
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From the moment your little girl is born, you know there is something peculiar about her. She has all of the normal characteristics of a Black- from the nose to the dark grey eye color. Her hair is a soft brown and sticks to the sides of her little head. Her cry is barely a whine, and that is what scares you the most. It's like a whimper, rather than a loud screaming one. She is small- smaller than Bellatrix had been anyways- and even though she is only a few minutes old, doesn't seem to have the cunning charisma that her older sister had when she had been born.
It is a few days later and your husband, Cygnus, has just returned home from his business trip. Over those days, your little girl has grown close to her sister, but not so much to you. You find it rather odd, and sad, but try not to think about it.
Your husband steps into your room, and takes a look at the newborn. His face is twisted into a sneer, and you know he is disappointed because it was a girl and not the heir the both of you had been hoping for. You still haven't named your little girl yet; you were waiting until Cygnus came home to choose a name.
Andromeda, you think, and the name rolls off your tongue. 'Her name is Andromeda.' It has a nice ring to it, and follows the age old tradition of the Black's, and she hopes Cygnus will like it.
From this moment forward, her name is Andromeda Callidora Black.
Your little girls is growing. Her hair is now a darker brown, curled in tight ringlets that cascade down her back. She is now three, a toddler, and a thankfully quiet one. She is usually off in her own little world, either coloring or playing with her sisters.
You take care of her as much as you can, and try to bond with her like you have with little Narcissa and Bellatrix. But she is like a stranger to you, and tends to be more independent than her sisters.
You try to keep an eye on her. You teach her the ways of a pure-blood lady, what a woman stands for and serves as in an aristocratic society. It is an attempt to get all of them to listen, especially your little girl, from which on occasion you get a scoff from. You then retaliate that scoffing is not at all ladylike, and she immediately returns to the way a lady is supposed to act.
She tries to do everything so perfectly and she succeeds. Her back is perfectly straight, and she is always sat primly in her chair with a hard expression on her beautiful face. Your little girl is trying so hard to please you, and yet you send her off. She always walks away with a crestfallen look on her face.
By the time she is six, she is starting her spontaneous bursts of magic. They only usually occur when she becomes angered, and anything porcelain or breakable flies into the air, shattering on the hardwood floor with such a force that it turns into a dust. She feels so sorry and miserable after her outburts, and you tell her that it is okay, since she is showing her magic. You're relieved that she isn't a squib, and would rather have plates explode than a non-magical child.
She is seven when you and Cygnus make a marriage contract for your little girl. None of your girls quite understand what is going on, and are playing with the Lestrange's boys in the opposing family's garden. You and Cygnus came to actually only sign off your eldest to their eldest, but you figured that you would be on much better terms with them if perhaps both of your oldest girls were to sign off both of them. Thus, you are now printing your signature on the magical parchment, and they are now officially to be married when eighteen.
You realize that, at the age of nine, your little girl hasn't said the word; mudblood. She still refers to them as 'muggle-borns', which is quite odd considering the fact that the word is spoken daily and thrown around like nothing. It is said so casually throughout the household, and you vow to use that word more, so she will pick it up, so she will understand that she is above everyone else.
Your little girl is growing up. She has received her letter, and is absolutely ecstatic. She will be going to Hogwarts soon, and she is practically in shock when you travel to Diagon Alley with her to purchase her things. It takes a while to find which wand was exactly right for her, but once acquired all she can do is stare.
As you stand on the platform, you realize that soon all three of your daughters will be attending the school, and they will be proud to uphold the family status. You receive a letter that night from Bellatrix, who says that your little girl made it to Slytherin. You smile and set the letter on your nightstand before drifting asleep.
She is fourteen and you begin to notice a change in her. Your little girl is becoming more withdrawn from you, from everyone. When she comes home, you ask what is wrong. She shakes her head, because she thinks you don't know that anything is wrong. She smiles, and turns away before you can say anything else. You were only trying to stand as a real motherly figure for her, and she still is pushing you away when you were trying to help.
You get a letter out of nowhere. She is sixteen, and over the years the amount of letters you receive have been minimal. It is an explanation. An explanation for why she wants to marry a different man, pure-blood. She hates Rabastan, and he hates her, to the extent that when she returns home for her sister's wedding, she is distressed.
You approach her, a caring glint in your eye. You want to help, but do not know how to help, and eventually walk up to her after the ceremony to ask her what is wrong. She begins to cry, and you lead her into a private room. You embrace her in a hug, something you would never do, and let her break down. You feel sorry, and want to pull your little girl out of this marriage, but you know you can't—their fate is magically sealed.
It is now her seventh year and you are excited for her. This is her final year, and then the wedding preparations begin, and you are thrilled to plan begin to plan it.
The letters cease once more throughout the year, and you know you shouldn't worry. It is NEWT year, after all, which requires a lot of studying. But she is to be a housewife, so grades are not necessary, and you most certainly will not let her work.
She returns home happier. Perhaps she has grown used to Rabastan. You assume that she is excited, like you, for the wedding, although she is spending a lot more time in her room than she usually does. You once again assume that she is mentally preparing herself for the wedding, which will be taking place next year. You smile, and return to the informal sitting room to drink your tea and read a novel.
Cygnus dies a few months later. Your heart is torn, although you do not understand why. You never actually loved him, he was a stiff; a prat. You're confused as to why you are showing emotion for him. The only light that you see is the wedding for your little girl.
It is a warm August morning when you wake. You remember suddenly that it is your little girl's birthday, and you smile.
However it is oddly quiet. Usually your little girl is up by this hour, trying to be as quiet as she could when she creeps down the creaky hallway. You stand up, still in your nightgown, ready to investigate why it is so quiet.
You hear a soft cry from the crack of her bedroom door. It is not your little girl's, but Narcissa's. You open the door and see the blonde sitting on your little girl's bed, tears leaking from her eyes. She holds a letter in her hand, and you take it.
You have to read the letter over a few times to comprehend it. She's gone: she left for a mudblood. A filthy mudblood.
You crumple the letter in your fist, tears threatening to spill over your eyelids. How dare she, you think, and once again you are confused. You do not know what to feel- anger, sadness, betrayal.
She is a disgrace to this family.
She is no longer your little girl.
A/N: I do not know if I am pleased with this, but I am pretty proud that I reached over 1k words! Reviews and constructive criticism is appreciated. :)