Author's Note: Not sure where this story is going to go exactly, but what isn't possible with Lucissa? I'd like to give a special thanks to Makani (at acciobrain and on DeviantArt) for forever changing my view on the Malfoys. xD She caused my obsession with this two, but she just doesn't know it. Go check out her website and her fanart.

I'd also like to give another special thanks to my readers (I'm thanking you ahead of time, lol) and would ask if you read, please review. Honestly, even if it's "Good job" or "You suck" (which I'd delete anyway, haha), it still means a lot. How hard is it to write two words?

Another thanks goes out to my beta-reader, riss313, for correcting my mashed up words and adding in her own thoughts.

Disclaimer: I sadly own nothing; I just like to ogle at the characters.

Behind Blue Eyes
[A fanfiction story by Mesteria]

Chapter One: Introductions

It wasn't always easy being the perfect one, the princess, the little girl, the baby. I had to uphold my family's name, however, and I took that job seriously. There were times when I wanted nothing more than to tear off my dresses, jump into muggle clothing and run amuck as my sister's did. I was only human; I made mistakes, too.

My eldest sister, Bellatrix, ran with a tough crowd and mainly boys. She was often out late; she would often return home drunk and insist on telling me about the sloppy, drunken sex she'd had. Normally, she shared these stories with my middle sister, Andromeda, but recently Andy had been absent a bit more than usual. She was more secretive and spent time alone in her room, shutting the world out. If she were home when I went to bed, when I woke in the morning, she was usually gone.

Of course, my sisters hadn't always been this way. Once upon a time, we had all been close, choosing to spend our summer nights with one another under the stars. That was before Bella lost herself, Andy lost her family and I lost them. Those days had ended almost two years ago. It would be two years next week, Wednesday to be exact. July fifth, 1967: the date my mother had been killed. That day would always and forever be a day of remorse and guilt for me; it would forever be the day I would punish myself.

After my mother's murder, my family and my life fell apart. I was young at the time, just thirteen (about to turn fourteen). Bella had been eighteen and Andy, sixteen. The night it happened, my two sisters huddled together in Bella's big bed. I had locked myself in the bathroom adjoined to my room, cradling myself in the tub. I didn't allow myself to cry because it had been my fault that my mother was dead in the first place. Not just dead… murdered, by muggles.

I only cried when Bella unlocked the bathroom door with magic and tried to comfort me. I had only cried because I didn't deserve to be comforted. I fought against her that night (something no one ever dared to do), pushing and shoving her away, pulling her hair, scratching her face and clawing at her arms. I screamed at her to leave me alone, but, in the end, she won; she always did. When I went to push her back one last time, she caught my wrists and twisted my arms until I fell on my knees in the tub. Then she released me, climbed in the tub with me and held onto me even after I had fallen asleep.

We were closer than ever for about a week. We didn't do much. We had no energy, nor the will; we even ate our meals in bed, usually Bella's, since it was the biggest. I usually crawled between them (even though they were best friends) and snuggled up to Bella's side. Andy would lie behind me, her head resting on top of mine and her arm draped over my waist. Sometimes, at night, I would slip out of their hold and walk the halls, aimlessly hoping that everything had just been a bad nightmare. I was always wrong.

The funeral was held three days after my mother's "death" (murder). She was buried in the Black family cemetery. My sisters and I wore black veils to hide our faces, as it was proper to do so. I stood with my sisters and my father at the front of the crowd that had come for the funeral. Bella had her boyfriend, Augustus Rookwood, to lean on. Andy leaned on me and I leaned on no one. I shut myself down entirely that day. I didn't shed a tear before, during or after the funeral. I didn't deserve to mourn the loss of my mother.

After that week we spent together, that was when my sisters began to slip away from me. Bella became cruder than she had been before; she was rebellious and uncontrollable. She was wild and fiery; her passion for the purification of the wizardly world grew. She hated muggles, muggleborns, and half-bloods just because they had muggle blood in them. She vowed to find the muggles that had murdered our mother. She vowed to kill them.

Andy was another story. She spent time locked away in her room or in the library reading. She read wherever she went; I think it was an escape for her. If she could become absorbed in a book, in a fantasy world, then she could make it through the day. Some of her school friends started coming around a few weeks after the funeral and she began to get out of the house a bit more.

I was the one left behind, as usual. I was forgotten in the background, left to defend myself against the harsh world that lay right outside my bedroom door. We didn't eat as a family anymore and eating by alone felt strange; eventually, I stopped eating. Nobody noticed me as I lurked around the house and in the gardens. Everyone dealt with my mother's death in their own way. I chose to push it down and out. I told everyone that all was fine… I was fine.

My father chose a bottle. He drank until every bottle in the house was dry. He was a quiet drunk, actually. He'd lock himself in his study. Sometimes at night, when I'd roam the halls, cold and alone, I could hear him cry. Daddy never cried in front of us; neither did Bella anymore. I don't think he ever really left. Maybe to go buy some alcohol, but I didn't see him much the rest of that summer. When it was time for us to head back to school in the fall, he gave us each a kiss on the cheek and then stalked back to his study… to his bottle.

Two years later and things hadn't changed.

"Hi, Daddy," I said quietly, peering into his office.

He looked up with a face. But when he saw it was I, his face lit up. "Cissy," he beamed. "How was your walk?"

Every evening, before I went to bed, I took a turn around the gardens, weather permitted. I could no longer roam the halls at night; they made me uncomfortable. I nodded and stepped into his office. I couldn't tell when he was drunk; his tolerance was built up so high now. "Lovely, as usual," I said. It was the same answer I gave every night. I sat down in the chair opposite his desk.

He nodded in response and glanced down at his desk. He quickly covered up whatever he had been looking at and then met my gaze again. "Tell me," he said with a smirk, "what could a fifteen-soon-to-be-sixteen year old young lady want for her birthday?"

I was slightly surprised. The truth was I never expected anything for my birthday anymore. My birthday was in August, on the eighth. That first year, everyone forgot my birthday. I had even forgotten it until midday, when I looked at the calendar to see the exact date. (I was counting down the days left until school began again.) I spent the day by myself, tucked away in my walk-in closet, clutching a picture of my mother. Last year would have been the same, but Andy remembered last minute and threw together a small dinner for me. Bella was gone and Daddy was in his office. Andy and I ate only a portion of the dinner and then I fell asleep in her bed, safely folded in her arms.

My father was asking me quite early about my birthday. He would probably be too drunk to remember when the day actually rolled around.

Uncomfortable with the conversation, I stood up and backed away from his desk. I stood behind the chair I had previously occupied. "Um, I'm not really sure," I said awkwardly. "Nothing really. It's fine. I have everything I want."

The truth: he couldn't give me what I wanted. I wanted him to stop drinking. I wanted Bella to stop sleeping around and practicing the Dark Arts. I wanted Andy to talk to me again and to be home. I wanted family dinners again. I wanted to attend balls like we once had. I wanted to dance with my father. I wanted to not feel so empty. I wanted to feel as though I didn't have to hide anymore. I wanted to stop feeling guilty. I wanted to stop blaming myself. I wanted to cry. I wanted holidays to be filled with joy and happiness like they used to be.

But most of all, I wanted my mother.