Summary: Bellatrix Lestrange killed Sirius Black during that fated battle in the Department of Mysteries. The Light side took a hit but still won enough that day.

Others weren't so lucky…

1 – The clock on the wall seems to be ticking backwards

5 – Sleepless nights

9 – Good as gold

Word count: 1 730

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter does not belong to me

Shattered Reality

"How could you, Bella? How could you do it? Do you have no shame? No loyalty?"

Her screams echoed through the typically silent halls of Malfoy manor in a distinctively unlady-like manner. Any other day she would have scoffed at the thought of even raising her voice, it was absurd. She was the Lady of the Most Ancient and Revered House of Malfoy and most importantly, she was a Black and a woman of her status and with her upbringing never raises her voice. It was simply not done. It was unclothe and plebian and lowered her to level of the likes like Mudbloods and commoners. Even the thought of doing so would have made her blush scarlet had she been younger.

Now, she couldn't find it in herself to care. Instead of lowering the volume of her words and composing herself, she only looked straight at her sister's almost black eyes (so unlike her Rosier blue ones) and carried on.

"Our cousin, Bella! Our blood, our family! How could you? He…"

"He was a blood traitor Cissy, he deserved what he got," said the eldest of her siblings dismissingly. She lazily looked around the drawing room they were in; one of the least used and went to the old grandfather clock. Narcissa hated that particular piece of furniture the most. "He was a shame to our name, a blemish that needed to be erased from this world, rather than simply hidden away. He never deserved to bear the name Black. He…"

"Was more of a Black than you'll ever be!" screamed the blond woman once again. Her cheeks were flushed outside of the privacy of the bedchamber Lucius and she shared (used to share, because he was in Azkaban now, he was in Azkaban and she was here and no one was safe anymore) for the first time in many years. "When we were children he was smarter and more powerful and better duelist than you and everything a Black should be. And you hated him for that, for being superior to you and…"

Suddenly Narcissa felt a shock run through her body and it took her all willpower she possessed not to cry out in pain as she fell on her knees. The coppery taste in her mouth and her throbbing tongue helped her realize how hard she had to have clenched her teeth to keep silent.

"SHUT UP!" screamed Bella, her face twisted into an angry grimace that did nothing to help her poor looks. Once she had been so beautiful, the dream of every wizard with her wild black locks and deep dark eyes. Her skin used to be just the right shade of pale, not too much or too little, her lips had been plump and red. Many, so many had offered for her hand and she had refused them all, secure in the knowledge that more would keep coming.

Now she was less than a shadow of her former self; her face was gaunt and skull-looking, her once healthy skin now held a permanently sickly color and her sanity seemed to be slipping away.

Her fits of rage were becoming more and more frequent and now, now, all that power and rage was directed at Narcissa. The blond woman tried to suppress the shivers that kept shaking her body. This wasn't Bella, Bella never screamed at her, Bella would never hurt her. She would never look down at her with this disgusted and simultaneously condescending expression. Her big sister would never cause permanent harm to a family member, let alone kill one. Family was the one thing that should always matter, that had always mattered to both of them.

"SHUT UP!" screamed Bella again, angry red sparks coming out of her wand and burning holes in the expensive four centuries-year-old Persian carpet. "You know nothing, little sister. You are as naïve and blind as you were twenty years ago! The child, the baby of the family, the one that everybody spoiled! The one person in this entire cursed family that could never see the truth.

"And Sirius… he was the worst of them. He was the heir, the most beloved son that everyone doted on. He had access to books and knowledge that I could never have. And then he threw it all away for his precious blood traitors and Mudbloods! He was as good as gold in their eyes - they never saw it coming. But I knew him what he truly was - a disgrace! He didn't deserve to be the heir! And all because he was born male!" in her anger she hit the glass of the old clock with her left hand.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

The pendulum of that annoying loud thing was not deterred from it. It kept swinging left and right and left again, constantly measuring the time Narcissa desperately wished to stop and just turn back.

"Oh, why wasn't I a man? I would have led our family to greatness. I would have been ten times the man he was. I would have never had to suffer that simpleton I call husband! And I would have killed that blood traitor the moment he brought same to our House!"

Bellatrix kept on rambling in the same spirit for several long minutes, sparks still coming out of her wand and burning more and more holes into the carpet as she gestured wildly around. Her voice steadily got louder and louder and her demeanor – wilder. The blond woman wasn't sure if her sister even remembered the cause of her rant or that she was still here.

After awhile Narcissa managed to stand up, her legs still shaking. Bella had turned her back on her and even if she were looking straight at her, it probably wouldn't have mattered anyway. Bella was too far-gone right now, locked in her own little world, away from the reality.

The Lady Malfoy slowly crept to the door and put her hand onto the golden handle, her pale blue eyes never once leaving the figure of her eldest sister in the mirror. The clock on the wall seemed to be ticking backwards. Its reflection was much more bearable that the real thing, the time going into the opposite direction was the one thing she wanted the most.

Narcissa carefully turned the handle, quietly left the drawing room and closed the door. Then, in a rather ungraceful and definitely not lady-like manner, she leaned on the door. She closed her eyes for a moment and took several deep breaths doing her best to ignore the shrilled cries of her sister.

She had to leave, she wanted to leave and go to their (hers now) bedchamber but couldn't summon the strength to do so. Besides, what was to point? All she would do would lay on that too-big bed and stare at the ceiling for the entire night. When was the last time she had a full night sleep? She couldn't remember. Two years ago maybe, before that fated World Cup where she saw the one thing she never wished even to think of ever again that green skull which equaled death. That mark that symbolized a time she wished to forget filled with all-consuming fear that had crept in her entire being.

Her knees gave up and Narcissa found herself sitting on the marble floor like some ten-year-old girl with no manners what so ever. She was tired of this. It was almost like fifteen years ago. And yet, it seemed much worst. Her beloved big sister was mad, her other sister hadn't sent a single letter for nearly a decay, Regulus was gone, Mother and Father were gone and so was Aunt Walburga. One by one, each of her family members fell as the leaves of a tree that, no matter how old and grant it was, would lose its leaves each autumn.

Now, Sirius had joined them as well. Sirius, who was a blood traitor and oath-breaker but was still her blood, her cousin, her family; Sirius, who would tell jokes and mess around at former gatherings and dinner parties, but was at his best behavior at her wedding. Sirius, who publicly denounced them and refused to even speak with them; Sirius, who sent her a letter congratulating her on the birth of her child, a letter that expressed his wish for her happiness and her son's health. Sirius, who came to little Reg's funeral despite all; Sirius, who spared her husband's life simply because he knew how much she loved him. Her cousin, who she once had considered a little brother, had died by her own sister's hand, which was still trashing the smaller drawing room and screaming against the world.

Narcissa felt warm liquid run down on her cheeks. She quickly wiped off her tears and stood up. One should never cry in public and every place where someone could walk on them was a public one.

The witch straightened her back, lifted her chin and cast a quick glamour on her face. With confident steps and cold demeanor, she quickly made her way to her rooms, which were, thankfully, not too far away. Nobody saw her, not that she was expecting him or her to. Guest and even family members rarely used that part of the Manor, its only plus being its closeness to the East wing, where her rooms resided.

Tap, tap, tap.

'A Black is does not show weakness, because a Black is never weak.'

Tap, tap, tap.

'A Black is never weak.'

Tap, tap, tap.

'A Black is never weak.'

Tap, tap, tap.

'A Black is never weak.'

'No matter how little sleep a Black gets, I suppose,' thought Narcissa bitterly. She knew it was only the begging. The mission had failed and the Dark Lord would take his anger on her little dragon.

She had spent countless sleepless nights already and would spent countless more, maybe that extra time would help her come up with a plan to save her child even if she could not save herself. If she could give her boy a future, if there was even the smallest chance of it, she would take it without hesitation. Just as Bella didn't hesitate to kill their cousin, she would not hesitate to do whatever necessary to save her only son.

Even betray the Dark Lord.