Disclaimer — The Harry Potter universe is the creative property of J. K. Rowling. I own nothing and make no profit, monetary or otherwise, from this work of fiction.

When they are girls, still innocent and full of wide-eyed wonder in those sleepy, eerily quiet years before Lord Voldemort first appears, the Black sisters share everything with each other. After their parents have gone to bed and the house-elves have retired to the kitchen for the night, Andromeda and Narcissa slide out of their warm beds and into the icy midnight air. They meet outside Andromeda's room, Narcissa still clutching her baby doll, and together they softly pad down the shadowy hallway to their older sister's room.

Bella is still awake, her mind and body seemingly in constant motion, and at the sound of her sisters' footsteps she makes room for them in her bed and lovingly straightens her blankets over their shivering forms. The three girls curl up together — Andy in the middle, Bella and Cissy at either side — and in the safety of the night and the sanctuary of each others' presence, they begin to share their hopes and fears, whispering their dreams for the future.

Bellatrix has no interest in marriage or motherhood; she has seen their mother's weary face after a day of endless, meaningless frivolities, and her insides freeze and crack at the thought of being trapped like a caged bird, unable to fly away. Freedom is what Bella craves, what she seeks as she runs, barefoot and breathless, through her family's sprawling estate with no destination in mind. More than anything, she dreams of traveling the world, of searching for that next great, elusive thrill.

Narcissa yearns for social power and influence. She has plenty as a daughter of the house of Black, of course, but at the same time Cissy is the youngest of three daughters, and she is so very tired of always being a forgotten afterthought at the end, of watching her sisters become young women while she impatiently waits to catch up. Voice rising slightly with emotion, Narcissa whispers of a powerful and wealthy husband who makes her the queen of wizarding society and gives her a handsome child to protect her position after he is gone.

Andromeda is not as ambitious as her sisters; she longs for neither thrills nor social supremacy. She doesn't really know what she wants to do with her life, either — she thinks about being an author, sometimes, because Bella is always telling her that she writes lovely stories, though at other times she thinks it might be fun to work for Gringotts as a curse breaker — but whatever her future occupation, she sees a man with kind eyes standing by her side. His fingers are intertwined with hers as they watch their three daughters snuggle together beneath the covers, telling jokes and secrets, sharing everything.

The girls fall into a comfortable silence once Andromeda finishes speaking. Andy presses her frozen feet against Bella's calves for warmth while Cissy lays her blonde head on Andy's chest and takes Bella's hand into her own. Cygnus and Druella Black's daughters could not be any more different, yet as they drift off to sleep, none of the three sisters can imagine a future without the other two.

Nearly a decade and a half later, close to midnight on a similarly chilly night, Andromeda Tonks sits propped up in bed, her infant daughter contentedly nursing in her arms. It's already been six months, but Andromeda still cannot get over how perfect little Nymphadora is, and how much love she holds in her heart for someone so new to the world.

Ted lies at her side, lazily tickling the soles of Nymphadora's feet. "Do you think you might want to have more children?" he wonders aloud, looking up at the surprised expression on her face. "Once Dora's a bit older, of course."

For a moment, Andromeda thinks back to those long nights spent just talking, sharing every thought and feeling. She remembers other times, too — running through the gardens, putting on plays for Sirius and Regulus, having a tea party with Cissy's dolls. She remembers the strength of their sororal bond, seemingly unbreakable, and the smiles on her sisters' faces.

Then the memory suddenly fades. Bellatrix's dark brown eyes glare murderously at her; Narcissa's icy blue eyes hold only disgust. There's a charred piece of fabric on the wall in Grimmauld Place where her name once appeared, shimmering in gold lettering between that of her two sisters.

Nymphadora stares up at her with big, dark eyes that are still full of innocence and absent of pain, and Andromeda can't help but cradle her daughter a little closer. "No," she replies, breathing deeply through her nose in a futile attempt to fight back her tears. "It's better that she stay an only child."