Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. If you recognise it, it isn't really mine.

A darkly beautiful woman drew her wand from within her robes on a quiet countryside road. The stars twinkled brightly down at her in juxtaposition as she noiselessly broke the wards surrounding the darkened house in front of her.

With another swish, the door unlatched and drifted inward, permitting her to regally sweep past towards the bottom of the stairs. She paused at a picture of a woman nearly identical to herself, beaming at the camera. She was standing beside a tall man with sandy coloured hair and had her arms around a little purple haired girl.

With a snarl, the woman ripped the man out of the photo, then stared at the two remaining. Her hands were poised to abolish the girl as well, yet she paused, looking at the familiar gap toothed grin and childish wave.

"Mum?" Came a small voice from the stairs. The woman started and hid the remains of the picture inside her robes.

"Mum, I heard you were up, and I couldn't sleep, and -oh-" A young child stumbled down the stairs, coming to a surprised halt at the bottom. Her eyes were screwed up with sleep, and she had long, black, wavy hair. Her cheekbones were prominent and one of her front teeth was missing. Large brown eyes regarded the intruder with a kind of serious fascination.

The woman paused again. Her mind told her to raise the wand and finish what she came for. But this little girl-

A flash of memory enveloped her. Three sisters playing in the grass, bouncing on beds and giggling late in the night, arms and legs looped casually atop each other...

The child, so resembling that girl from the past, tilted her head curiously. "You look an awful lot like Mum, ma'am."

The courtesy made the woman unwillingly remember even more. She raised her wand a little higher, but did not yet speak the incantation. The woman and girl faced off a long time, the woman appearing to struggle, but the girl remaining calm and confident.

Finally the wand was lowered. The woman finally spoke, her voice bold and almost -not quite- menacing. "You should be in bed, little girl."

The girl scuffed a toe along the elegantly tiled floor. "I couldn't sleep. It's storming outside, see?"

The woman blinked. It had been a long time since she took any notice of the weather. Another memory, this one of silky blonde hair brushing against her cheek as its owner hid from the raging thunder, buried deeply in her four poster feather bed...

A flash lit up the room and in an instant the child had leapt around the posh couch and was at the woman's side. She had clearly not comprehended just whom she had turned to for comfort. The woman's prominent brows descended as the girl awkwardly shuffled towards her before tripping. More out of reflex than any tenderness the woman's long, thin hands shot out and caught her.

The child, used to landing hard, misinterpreted that as a warm gesture and hugged the woman tightly as the thunder came booming around them. The storm raged on as the girl sought reassurance and shelter.

Before the woman could do anything besides startle, her arms closed automatically around the girl. Vaguely she remembered holding the child's mother this way, while thunder raged in the distance. It had been a long time since anyone viewed her as a figure of comfort. It had been even longer since she had actually offered such comfort.

Her voice was not as harsh as she would have preferred when she spoke next, standing in the dark with the girl. "Aren't you a little old to be scared of the dark?"

The girl glanced up at the sharply outlined frame, unrepentant. "Weren't you supposed to have sent word that you were coming?"

The woman's lips curled upwards. She was not sure yet why, but the child's impertinence reminded her of Meda; a sister she'd long since lost. It was bringing a slightly more human quality to the gaunt, unforgiving face.

"Maybe you should be afraid, child. But not of the dark."

The girl stared up at her confidently. "Daddy says not to be afraid at all. He says to live life without fear."

Bellatrix snarled, releasing the girl abruptly. "I will teach your dear Daddy the meaning of fear. You should not listen to a mudblood like him."

The child opened her mouth to say something else, but the lady was growing tired of the child, of her moment of humanity. She raised her wand to obliterate anything that caused her to feel. A bright flash of light caught her unaware from the stairs, not harming her, but sharply knocking her away from the child.

"Nymphadora! Get behind me!" Andromeda's cry was one of true fear, her hand held out beckoning as if it would make the child move faster. Nymphadora didn't, still unaware of what the strange lady was capable of.

"It's all right, Mum, she -"

"Nymphadora, NOW!"

The dark witch snarled and raised her wand, aiming at Nymphadora. Nymphadora stumbled over nothing as her mother charged forwards, blocking her child with a shield and her own body.

Andromeda nodded regally. "Bella."

Bellatrix almost smiled, almost snarled. "Meda."

"Leave Nymphadora out of this."

"You did name her that, then? Does she know why?"

Andromeda straightened. "Leave, Bella. You will do no murder here."

Bellatrix raised her wand determinedly and Andromeda reached behind her, affirming her child was tucked completely away. "If you murder anyone, Bella, it must be me."

Bella shook her head. "I'm just here for the mudblood and his spawn. You're my sister, a Black."

"You can't touch them without killing me first. I won't let you."

Bellatrix flicked her wand experimentally, testing the strength of the shield Andromeda had put up. She could break it, given time, but she wasn't sure she could break the woman inside it. Meda could usually match her curse for curse, if she wanted to.

Besides, a small part of Bellatrix knew she couldn't kill Meda. Meda had always been her favourite. Her smart sister, too clever by half, but kind and determined. Bella still loved Meda.

Andromeda read it in her eyes – she was always the only person who could – and smiled softly at her sister. Bella stiffened in frustration, let one one small howl and apparated out.

Andromeda hugged her girl tight to her chest, holding her close. "It'll be all right, Nymphadora."

Her child stared at her with troubled eyes, then buried her face in her chest. For the first time, she muttered "Don't call me Nymphadora."