It was the dead of winter, and she was as sick as a dog. Curled up on the couch, buried in blankets and pillows, staring at the fireplace as though it was the cause for all of her suffering.

The Malfoys were throwing a ball - Narcissa was ecstatic, and went above and beyond the call of duty to an almost painful level in order to look gorgeous - and she did. Long, platinum hair was painstakingly curled into ringlets and laid elegantly against the slinky gold silk dress she wore. Her make-up was a little darker than usual; a little more lip-stick, a little thicker eye-liner there. Andromeda recalled that she’d done something particularly unusual - but with a fantastic effect - with the eye-shadow that night; half of her eyelids were golden and the other half a radiant red.

Bellatrix wasn’t nearly as excited, and in almost an extraordinary effort to spite her sister, she meticulously made sure she wasn’t meticulous. She had simply knotted her mass of black curls at the nape of her neck and stepped into her equally slinky, green dress. It was velvet, Bellatrix’s dress, rich, high-quality and the color was such a dark green that anyone could see the fire in Bellatrix’s eyes that only Andromeda had ever noticed before.

Narcissa had twirled for Andromeda, standing directly in front of her, so the youngest of the Black sisters didn’t even have to shift.

“What do you think, Andy?”

“You’re gorgeous, Cissy,” Andromeda smiled.

“And me?” Bellatrix stepped into Andromeda’s line of sight, an eyebrow mockingly arched.

“Pretty as usual,” Andromeda had answered off hand, and Bellatrix stepped forward in a rustle of velvet to perch on the edge of the couch.

“And you, Andy, look very, very sick,” Bellatrix teased, leaning forward to kiss the sister that looked so startlingly like her on the forehead.

Narcissa giggled, stepping back and viewing Andromeda with mock concentration, one manicured finger tapping her lower lip. “Fleece looks good on you, Andy.”

Andromeda frowned, glancing down at what she was wearing in comparison to her sister’s garb.

“We gotta go, Narcissa,” Bellatrix said to fill the suddenly awkward silence that followed Narcissa’s comment. “Good-bye, Andy; get better soon, m’kay?” She brushed a hand over her sister’s face and with a soft, curious sort of smile swept from the room. Narcissa giggled, winked at Andromeda and followed quickly after the oldest Black sister.

Andromeda sighed and looked down once more at what her body was wrapped in - a brown fleece blanket.

And wasn’t that how it always was with her sisters? Narcissa; delicate and elegant, the gold silk she wore tonight representing her perfectly. And Bellatrix; more bold and strikingly beautiful, just like her green velvet dress. And - last, and usually least - Andromeda; drabbed in brown fleece, matted hair, ugly and sickly and plain but kinder.

But really, Andromeda could remember thinking; who cares what you’re like on the inside, anyway?

Andromeda sighed, turned away from the window and towards the front door. She stepped out into the cold, frowning up at the sky, trying desperately to focus her thoughts so she could Apparate to Christmas at the Weasley house without splinching herself and wondered where it all went wrong.

--Cayenne