This is my first attempt at writing one-shots like this…

Anyway, you know I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters in these musings. Wish I did, but I don't. Don't sue me, Jo!!

Please read and review. Please, please, please!

Anyway, without further ado, may I present… Musings!

My three daughters. My babies. One in Azkaban, one a blood traitor, and one… one completely lost without the other two.

She never was strong. Emotionally. Narcissa, my youngest. Constantly unsure, never dedicated. Beautiful though, like an angel. Soft, fair, my child of light. Not a dark beauty like her sisters; she inherited my color. My pale skin tone, my light hair. Even my eyes; I always saw myself in her. Perhaps that's what was so difficult. I saw my mistakes every time I looked into those clear eyes, and I couldn't bear it. Truth be told, I was relieved when she went off to school. The most delicate of the three, yet I feared her. And my fear must have been plain to her. I never wanted her sent to me; I knew her eyes would show my miserable life. Everything she learned, I would have Bella teach. I think Narcissa feared her, almost as much as I feared Cissy.

Because Bellatrix was strong. Dedicated wholeheartedly to her blood, to her role. Always. She knew what was expected of her and what to expect of others. And she was a beauty, too. Narcissa's opposite. Dark-skinned, like most Blacks, dark eyes. And so powerful. Magically. Even before Hogwarts, her magical skill was excellent. And it constantly grew. Tenfold, a hundredfold, a million-fold. Maybe she was too strong. Maybe we made her a bit too dedicated, I don't know. She joined the Dark Lord. The first female in his inner circle. Because he always advocated more power to purebloods. Being in control, as is our right. Our birthright. We were given power for a reason: to use it. Her soul grew as dark as her hair, her eyes. She tortured, killed, took pleasure in her acts. Then she got caught. What does she see in Azkaban, I wonder? What memories do the dementors leave behind for her to face? Memories of me?

See, I never thought I was a good mother. I tried, of course, and I can only hope that I turned out better than my pathetic excuse for a mother. My middle daughter, I'm sure, has no worries. Andromeda was born with a mothering instinct and a very logical mind. You hear that the middle child is always the unwilling mediator, but Andromeda genuinely loved it. I suppose it was the self-certainty that comes from always proposing an easily accepted compromise. Because she'd easily find solutions where every Black in the three previous generations had failed to look. Andromeda could always tell what people wanted, too, and she always reaped some kind of benefit. Even now. She turned her back on all she was and married some common Mudblood, yet I still can't manage to forget the blood traitor. I heard she had a daughter, and I'm sure the child is well-cared for. Nurtured. She probably turns to Andromeda when she feels bad. Narcissa always used to. Even Bellatrix, when she was small. She'd pour out her problems to her sister, who couldn't even understand them. But who would Andromeda turn to? Who could she turn to? Always the most caring…

I'm sorry. I've failed every one of you, and I sincerely regret it. These three wishes, I want to dedicate to each of you. Narcissa, may you someday find the strength to stand for what you believe. Andromeda, may you be blessedly happy for the rest of your life, whether with the Muggle-born or not. And Bellatrix, my eldest, I have but four words for you: May you find peace.