Dear Diary:
I haven't done this in a while. Not since I was a child. I laugh as I write to you, feeling my youth rising inside my cold heart. I only know what I know. It is as simple as that. I do not know where to start, so perhaps the beginning is best.
We've quarreled again. We're quarreling quit a bit recently It is always over the same thing. Cissy and I, sisters, cannot seem to agree on this touchy subject.
My nephew, Cissy's son, has been chosen. He is to participate in the rising of the Dark Lord. The boy is even blessed enough to have the privilege of ending the life of the old man, Dumbledore. Yet Narcissa weeps as if he was destined to eternal damnation.
I tell her, and I tell her often, of how lucky she is. Her son's name will go down in history! He will bring glory to the Black family name, glory that our damned sister Andromeda and cousin Sirius stole from us. Glory that is rightfully ours! Cissy's boy reminds me of Regulus; so young, and so willing to do whatever he is told for the family. Indeed, this will be something to take with pride.
But yet my sister weeps. Why does she weep? She believes it a death sentence; her son is just a boy, she cries! He's only sixteen years old, not even of age yet! A death sentence it might turn to be, but his death would be with honor and valor! Not a soul would die without having utter his name at least thrice in their lifetime.
I tell her she is lucky. I tell her if I had thousands sons as she has one, I would gladly give him to our master, the Dark Lord. She becomes angry. She screams through her tears at me. No you would not, Bellatrix! You say that only because you've not got those thousands of sons, Bellatrix! She supposes that she knows me better than I know myself, and I scoff. I walk away, thinking of what a nuisance she is being, what a weakling she is.
I think to myself. What if I had those sons? Or what if I just had one? I imagine Draco is mine. Would I let him serve? Of course not. I mean, of course so. It would be his duty; both my husband and I have pledged all that is ours to the Dark Lord, so would not that qualify our son as already his?
I wanted a son. I wanted a daughter, too. Rudolphus - my husband of God knows how long - refused to give them to me. He deems me an unhealthy mother, but I've seen worse. He says I am too devoted to the Dark Lord, which I am, but how would that hinder anything?
Never mind. Draco is the focal point. What if Draco was my son? I would doubtlessly give him over, wouldn't I? I make up my mind; I would not. Draco is already by my frequently. I love him like my own already. I've never told anyone that before. Neigh, not even Draco himself knows.
I see Cissy's point, but I simply cannot let her see that. In fact, I could almost cry for being such a hypocrite. But I do not. I am the big sister. I must always fight for my position, and my position cannot change.
I decide in my head that I love Draco more than anything. More than Rudolphus. More than my master. Tell no one. Not even Draco. That is what I must do. If a word of this spills, I'll be had. Not a soul will respect me, and respect is not only what I crave, but what I demand.
I sigh. I feel weak I review my life so far. There were three of us. Then two. I went to school. I got married to a man I hardly knew, was several years my elder, and was picked out my parents for his blood. I went to Azkaban. I got out. I am here. Hesitant at first but then curious, I think of Cissy's. There were three of us. Then two. Cissy went to school. Cissy got married to a man also arranged by our parents, but this was a man she desperately loved. Cissy had Draco. Cissy's been happy. Cissy cried when I went away. Cissy sang when I got out. Cissy had a family. Cissy had happiness. Cissy had everything she ever dreamed of. Comparatively, Cissy's much better off than I.
Jealousy makes me writhe. I do not like this feeling. I've never envied Cissy before, but now I see how lucky she truly is. I look at myself. What have I to show for my life besides the Dark Mark on my left arm? That is the only thing I have that Cissy doesn't; Cissy never got the Mark. I thank every god out there that she never got the Mark.
A sudden realization makes my flesh turn cold and my blood drain from my face. My baby sister doesn't need me anymore. She'll be fine if I die during this whole bloodshed war. She would feel sorrow at the loss of me, but in a weeks time, she'll be back to herself as long as she has Draco. I love my sister. She is the one thing I love as much as Draco. This is when I decide; I will breathe only so long as Cissy-.. I will breathe only so long as Narcissa wants me alive. As long as Draco wants me alive.
Narcissa found a small book lying in the floor of Bellatrix's old room. She could hardly believe she had gone two months without her big sister. As she picked up the book, her fingers felt fire, and she dropped it. A spell, she reasoned. Narcissa looked at her hand, a little dark with singe marks. More carefully this time, she lifted it again.
She opened it to find Bellatrix's childhood diary. It had every day since Bellatrix's first year up to her graduation day. Narcissa was about to put it down when she noticed a page with a folded down corner. She began reading it, and it began with the following:
Dear Diary:
I haven't done this in a while. Not since I was a child. I laugh as I write to you, feeling my youth rising inside my cold heart. I only know what I know. It is as simple as that. I do not know where to start, so perhaps the beginning is best…
A/N: I really hoped you liked it. R&R?