Hello hello lovelies! Happy Thursday!

I am so happy that everyone enjoyed Riley's chapter! I tried to make it seem like years had passed without it dragging in parts.

There are seven more chapters in part II, which means we are sort of halfway through it! I am having far too much working through these various perspectives, and I hope you all like it just as much!

Please leave a review and let me know what you think x

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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.

P.S. HOW HAS THIS STORY REACHED 3000 REVIEWS, WHAT THE HECK, THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH xxx

"Sisters are different flowers from the same garden."

-Unknown

Andromeda Tonks, née Black

The sky was blue as can be without a cloud in sight. Two witches and a wizard were seated around an intimate, round table. The eldest witch admired the table's ironwork, and commended the expert craftsperson, as the details on the tabletop looked as if painted with a delicate brush.

It was a perfectly acceptable summer's day, and a tall glass of lemonade was in front of her on the table; the ice cubes bobbing at the surface.

"So you're courting my daughter?" The woman asked with a prim smile. A bee lazily floated over her shoulder, and landed on her lavender, butterfly sleeve. She gently shooed it.

The woman was the picture of elegance: the dress she wore was light cotton, empire-styled with a thin, royal purple band beneath her bosom. She smoothed her hands across her skirt before she gazed expectantly at the man across from her. Her dark curls were drawn back over her shoulders and out of her face.

"Mum, you're making this weird," Nymphadora Tonks whinged, holding the man's hand tightly as she rolled her eyes. She was wearing a cropped t-shirt that showed her midriff and tight, black leather pants. She'd removed her shoes when she arrived so the bubblegum pink varnish on her toes was visible.

"What? I am merely inquiring about this young man's interest in my only daughter," Andromeda shrugged cavalierly.

"I'm hardly a virtuous maiden who needs to be protected! I am a grown woman," Tonks argued irritably. She huffed, and tacked on, "not to mention I have a career and my own flat."

"I am well aware of all of that Nymphadora, mind your tone when you are speaking to me. You may be a grown woman, but I am still your Mother," Andromeda said with a quirked brow.

"Sorry…it's just, I came to introduce Remus to you, not have him undergo an intense interrogation."

"The lemonade is lovely," Remus smiled tightly, taking a small sip, briefly meeting Andromeda's gaze.

"Thank you, I made it myself." Andromeda inclined her head politely. She may be an outcast, burned from the family tree and banished from certain social circles, but she was still in possession of all her manners. The woman was perched gracefully in her chair, sharp grey eyes assessing the couple.

The pair's chairs were close together, and their hands were interlaced on top of the table. A bold show of their intentions. This wasn't a brief dalliance or fling, this was serious.

"You are a lovely man, Remus Lupin, but I was just a little surprised by your visit. Dora rarely brings suitors home, much less suitable ones. Something tells me there is more to this union than what meets the eye." Andromeda smiled knowingly. Remus's cheeks tinged pink, and Tonks snorted under her breath but wasn't offended by her Mother's comments.

Andromeda was positive the pair shared a bond. She was unable to see them, and she wasn't good at sensing them, but if she focused hard enough, she swore she could see the string connecting the young couple.

Andromeda was unbothered by the age difference between Remus and her daughter—thirteen years—as wizarding folk lived to be nearly two centuries old in some cases.

Andromeda was more concerned with the secretive looks Remus and Nymphadora shared when they thought she wasn't looking. They were in love, plain and simple. Andromeda was overjoyed to see it.

"Why does there have to be something more, Mum?" Tonks asked cautiously.

Andromeda heard the rumours after Remus Lupin resigned from his post at Hogwarts. And if the rumours were to be believed, a werewolf was sitting in front of her.

Andromeda's mind whirred and she landed on the answer. Her daughter was Remus Lupin's mate. A rare bond, sometimes only witnessed once in a lifetime, if ever.

"So mates then?" Andromeda smiled softly. Remus almost choked on his lemonade, and Tonks rubbed his back and stared at him in concern. The witch was happy that her daughter found a kind, sensible man.

The only one she'd really liked was Charlie Weasley, and whilst she was fond of him, he and her daughter had gotten into the world of trouble as teenagers. They were both too wild for their own good, and they'd caused havoc wherever they went.

"Something like that, Mum," Tonks replied, leaning over to press a kiss to Remus's cheek. The man tightened his grip on Tonks and carefully placed his lemonade glass down.

Andromeda cleared her throat, and nonchalantly changed topics. "How is Sirius?"

Remus went pale. Nymphadora's eyes were like goldfish's and she blinked rapidly.

"Mum!"

"What? I can't ask after one of the only decent cousins we have left? I highly doubt Dumbledore would let him run around if he was actually responsible for the Potter's deaths."

The mood plummeted marginally at the mention of the late Potters. Andromeda cleared her throat, took a sip of her lemonade, and thought of ways to bring levity back into the conversation.

"I didn't know Charlus Potter very well, but Dorea was a wonder, and a witch to be reckoned with. Which shows in the brilliant children she raised," Andromeda said, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere.

Remus's brow creased for a brief moment, but it smoothed out moments later. Remus smiled crookedly. "Sirius and I spent so much time there as teenagers, it was as if they had three children. I had my own Mother, Hope, and she was brilliant, but in many ways…Dorea was my Mum as well."

Andromeda pursed her lips in pensive ponderation. An image of a raven haired girl stunning Bellatrix at Narcissa's wedding came to mind, but she couldn't picture the girl's face nor her name.

I could have sworn there were three Potter children, Andromeda mused, her thoughts furling around each other like smoke. The more she tried to grasp onto an idea, the faster it fled.

Andromeda blinked, and she was brought back to reality. Nymphadora and Remus were speaking lowly amongst themselves, laughing under their breath. The love and adoration in their eyes made the air catch in her throat.

She watched them with tender affection, and all thoughts of raven haired girls left her mind. Andromeda couldn't recall what she'd been pondering with such fervour; she was too enchanted by the sight before her.

Bellatrix Lestrange, née Black

The first time Bellatrix laid eyes on her nephew, an inexplicable, sour taste overtook her senses. As he grew it didn't go away, it only got worse and eventually she hates the little runt. Her hatred doesn't make sense, she expected to adore the child before he was born. This hatred is part of the reason she opts to not have any children of her own.

Rodolphus had suggested on multiple occasions that they too should start a family, and she was almost agreeable to the idea, but being around Draco had stamped away the foolhardy notion.

Narcissa knew Bellatrix held no fondness to her son, but she pretended otherwise in her sister's company. A fact Bellatrix was abundantly aware of. She wished it was not so, as Draco was her blood and beloved sister's child, but he smelt wrong.

Bellatrix would look at the babe as he grew and disgust would broil in her gut. When the welp began babbling she momentarily contemplated smothering him with the pillow in his cot.

Bellatrix remembered the exact moment she saw him again. Many moons later, after the Dark Lord was resurrected, and she was freed from her cell in Azkaban. Pale hair, grey eyes, he looked like his Father, but something was amiss.

A flash of molten silver, an arrogant, bloody smile—the crimson staining his white teeth—and dark hair came to mind when she looked at him that first day. She couldn't rid herself of it afterwards. She loathed him, for there was something in his eyes and his visage that irked her endlessly.

Then, there was the girl. Ickle Harry Potter's friend. With horrendously bushy hair, and steel in her brown eyes. She had too much gumption for such a plain Mudblood.

Bellatrix first caught sight of her in the Department of Mysteries, and another witch had taken her place. Hazel green eyes that burned with amber and gold, raven curls and a fierce tongue. It was perplexing, and baffling, and her dear cousin Sirius almost landed a Stupefy he'd sent her way.

A maddening sort of giddiness overtook her when Dolohov sent one of his infamous spells the girl's way and it landed its mark. Sheer joy raced through her veins as the girl flew backwards and collapsed on the stone.

The witch was furious when she learned that the little chit had survived.

Bellatrix's disdain of Draco grew steadily, and she knew he would fail to complete the task the Dark Lord had given him. The boy lacked spine and conviction. She was eager to punish him when he was unsuccessful.

Unfortunately, if he failed, Narcissa and Lucius would also pay the price. The Dark Lord grew weary of their ineptitude. They weren't as close as they once were, but it would be a shame if her Narcissa was tortured because of her pitiful offspring.

Somehow, Draco doesn't completely mess up his task, and the end result is achieved; Albus Dumbledore was dead.

After that, Bellatrix avoided her nephew as much as possible. She found the less time she spent with him, the easier it was to bear his presence when they had to share the same air.

A rather dreary, monotonous day was brightened significantly when Greyback and his snatchers brought Potty and his friends to Malfoy Manor. Well, it was supposedly Potter, but his face was all messed up. You could hardly tell any of his features apart in the swollen, dirty mess.

Draco had one charge; identify Potter so they could call the Dark Lord. Instead, all Bella got was, "I can't—I can't be sure." He was filthy swine, and she didn't hide the sneer on her face.

Lucius was desperate for it to be Potter. He was holding on by a thin thread since he'd fallen out of the Dark Lord's good graces. Lucius wasn't any better than the dirt under his heel.

Bellatrix languidly listened to the back and forth prattle, and was unsurprised when Draco said, "I don't know," and scuttled over to hide behind his Mother's skirts.

They were about to call the Dark Lord when everything changed. One of the Snatchers started waving about the Sword of Gryffindor.

Bellatrix acted swiftly and within minutes all of the Snatchers were unconscious around the Drawing room. She questioned Greyback, but the only useful thing he revealed was that it was in their tent when they got picked up.

Snape had the Sword delivered to her vault, and whilst she didn't like the man, he was extremely capable and reliable. Which meant they'd been in her vault! If they had the Sword, what else had they taken?

"Draco, move this scum outside," Bellatrix said, gesturing at the unconscious men. "If you haven't got the guts to finish them, then leave them in the courtyard for me."

Cissy didn't like her tone, or the words she used with her son, but Bella had bigger problems.

Bellatrix honed in on the girl. A thorn in her side, a mystery that she couldn't solve. She wasn't just a Mudblood, there was something else. Bella's blood boiled and anger hissed in her gut whenever she was around the girl.

Bella would find out how they got into her vault, and if they'd taken anything else. Her life was at stake now.

Bella demanded the other prisoners be taken to the cellar. The ginger boy made an awful lot of racket, and she smacked him across the face.

Bellatrix gripped the Mudblood's face, and the sight of the fear quivering in her eyes brought Bella immense joy. She was going to enjoy this.

Draco had returned at some point, and his face was paler than usual as he realised what was happening. He was weak, and he's uncomfortable with the proceedings, she can see it in the way he's holding himself.

She hated him almost as much as the girl on the other side of her wand. The mudblood's screams are wonderful music to her ears. She was originally only going to torture the information out of the girl, but upon witnessing Draco's discomfort, she decided to carve a reminder of what she was into the Mudblood's arm.

A House Elf came to the prisoner's rescue, and all that was left in the aftermath was a shattered chandelier and a dagger she'd thrown after them hoping it buried itself to the hilt in one of their chests. Draco's hands were trembling, and he clenched them to hide his fear. Bellatrix hated him.

Months later, the unthinkable happens. Bella is bested by Molly Weasley; a frumpy housewife. Bellatrix knew the moment it was over, and the smile slipped from her face. Black crept onto the edges of her vision, and an infuriating sight was before her.

Hermione and Draco Potter, the Blood Traitor children of Dorea and Charlus. The girl stunned her at Cissy's wedding.

Then, the Potter girl had the audacity to smirk at her, and everything blurred from sight. It was a dark, impenetrable blackness. And then there was nothing.

Narcissa Malfoy, née Black

Narcissa loved her son dearly the moment she laid eyes on him. She'd looked down at his pink, crying face and thought that she'd never seen something so beautiful. He was hers, and she was his. He'd stolen her heart and he hadn't even had to try.

Narcissa doted on Draco throughout his childhood, in hindsight, perhaps too much. However, there is a strange niggling at the back of her head that tells her she needs to. As if she was making up for some unknown slight from her past.

Lucius told her on multiple occasions not to mollycoddle their son as much as she did. For the sake of balance, he was the one who saw to Draco's discipline. He rarely showed the boy affection for fear of having him turn out soft and weak.

Malfoys are not weak, and they do not beg.

Narcissa loved Draco, but occasionally she would catch sight of him standing in the shadows and his hair looked as dark as night. The first time was when he was napping under a tree—during the summer months—in between his Governess's lessons when he was six. There was a different aura about him. She'd blink, the vision would disappear, and she'd forget all about it.

Once, when Draco was eight, he made a snarky comment in reply to his Father at the dinner table. Lucius slammed his hand down on the table, and demanded Draco learn to curb his cheek around him. Draco shrank down in his seat, nodded miserably and quietly resumed eating.

Draco had been rude, but it hadn't warranted such a spirited response. Narcissa watched her husband, and noted the odd expression that had taken over him—one of mild contempt—but it smoothed out moments later. Lucius blinked blankly at his surroundings, as if unsure where he was.

Narcissa Malfoy crossed paths with Hermione Granger a handful of times, however most of them weren't noteworthy in her opinion. Except the one time that the girl was tortured on Narcissa's drawing room floor by her unhinged sister, Bellatrix. A painful tightness constricted her chest at the sight, but she remained as still as stone. A voice in her head screamed, 'stop it!'. The voice was adamant that she stop the young witch from going through tremendous pain again.

Again? Narcissa thought in a daze, but then another scream ripped from the witch, and Narcissa snapped out of it. She pressed a hand against her ribcage and drew in a steadying breath. Narcissa started to run through the steps in brewing Dreamless Sleeping Potion in an attempt to drown out the girl's agony at the hands of Bella. It was futile, the girl's screams splintered through Narcissa's head, and she just wanted it to end.

The next time Narcissa saw the Granger girl, she was duelling during the final battle. Harry Potter had survived his encounter with the Dark Lord in the forest, and the tide had turned; Narcissa was partly responsible for that. The Order and its allies had new fire breathed into them, and they were fighting to survive, they were fighting to win.

Dirt, soot, grime was smeared across the gir land mixed with her drying blood from several small, visible wounds. Granger was a force to be reckoned with. Dark curls swung across the girl's back as she moved with fierce precision, and Narcissa stopped, struck with a bolt of recognition. She rubbed at her eyes, and the girl's honeyed brown curls had returned; her hair much shorter than in the previous moments.

Narcissa had frozen in her search of her son, but a barrage of yelling on her right brought her back to reality. Narcissa couldn't afford to remain stationary, she was wandless and practically defenseless. She needed to find Draco, she needed to make sure he was safe. Narcissa picked up her skirts with both hands and raced into the fray. She needed to protect her son.

The war ended, their standing in the societal food chain was diminished significantly by their allegiances during the war. Lucius narrowly escaped spending the remainder of his days in Azkaban, but his wand was taken away, as was his magic, and he was forced under House Arrest.

Narcissa's lie to the Dark Lord about Harry Potter being death, in addition to The Boy Who Lived's bleeding heart saved them from endless persecution. He spoke at their trials during the summer, as did the Granger girl. Although her testimony was more curt, and she didn't outright accuse them of atrocities. It wasn't a stellar defense, but it helped.

After the Malfoy's trials, Narcissa tried to keep her head down, and avoided leaving the house unless absolutely necessary. She was branded a Death Eater's wife, and was not welcome in most of society. It was a peculiar, unfamiliar feeling being shunned on such a vast scale.

Once, invitations to events held by Narcissa Malfoy were highly coveted. And if you were lucky enough to garner an invitation, one did everything in their power to ensure they stayed in good standing with Lady Malfoy. Summer luncheons, grand balls, informal Quidditch games hosted on Malfoy Manor's grounds were some examples. But most witches yearned to be one of the select few that were invited to Narcissa's smaller, more intimate weekly meetings.

The Malfoy's tainted reputation put an end to all of it. Narcissa hadn't wanted Draco to go back to Hogwarts, but he'd insisted. He wanted to finish his education. Which pleased the Ministry officials that would have otherwise imprisoned him on the Malfoy Manor estate like his Father.

Sleepless nights plagued Narcissa from the moment Draco left in September until the first of December. That night, she dreamed of a raven haired boy with grey eyes, full of snark and cheek, but who was kind. He was her friend.

The subsequent days, a strange feeling pressed down on her mind, but she shook it off, obstinately ignoring it. Until, she received an owl from Minerva McGonagall that summoned her to Hogwarts.

Perhaps she'd known the truth for days, but even when Minerva explicitly told her that Draco and Miss Granger had travelled back in time, she internally denied it. She fought the muddied and unclear images, and flashes of scenes that abruptly stormed her mind.

Narcissa fought it until she couldn't anymore. Her memories crashed in clamant waves; a distressing one swam to the front and viciously accosted her.

Draco Potter—the image stark and clear as if she was reliving it—bloodied and convulsing on the light hardwood floors scalded her irises.

It became clear in that moment that the reason for protecting her darling boy went deeper than a Mother's love. She hadn't thought it possible with how much she loved him. She'd needed to protect him because she was the one who had inflicted unforgivable pain on him all those years ago. Narcissa'd failed as a Mother and a friend.

Draco Potter's forgiving words echoed in her mind. The entire time they'd been acquainted he knew who she was to him. Draco's forgiveness eased some of her grief, but she knew she would have to ask for it a second time. Narcissa Malfoy loved Draco Potter, he was her precious lion, and dear friend, and she swore in that moment that she would never cause him any harm again.