I obviously do not own these characters. I'm not sure where this story is coming from exactly. All I know is that my mind is going crazy with the need to get these words onto paper. If this interests anyone out there, feel free to contact me, to review, or whatever you wish. It's nice knowing my words have some effect on people - good or bad. I'll also take this moment to say that the relationship between Bellatrix and Narcissa in this story might develop into something incestuous. If that bothers you, well, don't read it. Even if it is one sided for the most part, I still feel like a warning was in order even though it's stated in the summary and rated M. Well, enough for the rant, huh? And with that, here is a story that my mind desperately needed to tell.

Nothing felt real anymore.

At least, that's how she saw it. If there was a way to fly away from here, Narcissa would never hesitate. Everything was burning here; burning figuratively – but still burning to a point beyond recognition. The film reel that was the blonde's memory was melting, smoking, crumpling as everything seemed to smoke and blend together. The smoke was blending because nothing actually mattered. Not now anyway; not now, when she was about to be forced into a marriage she didn't actually want.

"He's pureblood," Bella had said, months ago, as if that was everything.

It should have been everything. But to Cissy, it wasn't. He was dark and twisted, just like Bellatrix. They both had that same set of ideals that had always sickened her stomach.

What did being pureblood matter? It wasn't as if she could tell the difference just by looking at a person. With that logic, everyone could lie and say they were pureblood. Shouldn't that be how the world worked; blind to differences that weren't even noticeable to the naked eye?

Children were supposed to be innocent – and for some reason, Cissy had never lost this idea of being curious towards other kinds of people. She was like a child, in that respect. Always wondering and questioning. Even if she never questioned aloud – she had very intimate thoughts about the world.

Unlike herself, Bella had lost her childlike innocence years ago. She was dark and twisted now, almost as if she really were crazy.

Narcissa didn't want to believe that – not her Bella. Not her sister. There had been so many good times when they were little – but her parents started to say things…little hints about how they should feel about the world. Being the oldest, Bellatrix had taken every word they said to heart. She didn't want Bella to be crazy – she wanted the sister that used to tell her stories back. Granted, that had been many, many years ago.

As Bella's mind deteriorated, her beauty had gone with it. The raven haired girl used to be stunning; like an angel. Like Narcissa's own personal angel – the one to lead her through the dark forest that was life.

But she was crazy now, and life remained dark.

Narcissa Black had to be her own light. But if the truth were to out, Narcissa was never very good with courage or strength. She wasn't a very good candle. Always burning out at the wrong moments, always backing down when she had something to say.

It was the pureblood way, after all, to follow orders. She was good at that, outwardly, even though she was fighting herself for it on the inside every day of her damned life.

Her damned life that had taken her sister from her and forced her into a relationship that wasn't healthy.

Nothing was healthy though, when it concerned Him. The one person Bellatrix loved now; the one who received all of her attention and effort. The Dark Lord, as he called himself, was the only object of her entire family's attentions.

Although Cissy loved her sister to pieces, Bella would never love her back. Not again, anyway, when love was something the Dark lord spat on.

The kind of love Bellatrix possessed now was hideous – ugly.

It was a love stronger than the sisterly bond they had possessed when they were children. A love that had consumed Bellatrix Black so completely, that she would hurt anything – even family – to have that love reciprocated.

But what Bella didn't understand is that the Dark Lord couldn't love – could never return her feelings in his quest for immortality and ultimate power. The Dark Lord could never love another, because he was too in love with himself.

Maybe it wasn't really Bella that was crazy. Maybe she herself was, for thinking the pureblood ideology was severely flawed, even though it was the only way of life she had ever been taught.

Perhaps in time she could learn to love Lucius.

Perhaps she could learn to be accepting of her fate, of her destiny to be Narcissa Malfoy – nothing more than Lucius Malfoy's trophy.

But never, could she learn to love that which Bella loved. Never could she devote herself to murdering helpless victims, all in the name of "cleansing the magical race."

Narcissa was shaking, her hand on the glass turning blue from the cold. She'd been outside thinking for too long. For more than an hour, at least.

The young woman closed the curtains and returned to bed for the night, expecting Lucius to come visit her in the later hours. He always did; wanting to make her happy, wanting to gloat about how macho he was for killing off another Muggleborn. She could never bring herself to use the foul word he and Bella did. It was poison to her - unnecessary.

Narcissa always told him lovely though, keeping herself at a distance from him until he whined about needing her.

Purebloods are supposed to be good at following orders.

Narcissa always obliged.