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For the first half-year after the war, Narcissa wrote and rewrote four letters.
It took her another month to work up the courage to send one of them. (Not that she could have sent them any earlier, anyway, with the house arrest, and their owls taken away.)
No answer came.
Part of Narcissa knew she ought to take the hint, ought to give up. But day after day in the dark manor, with Lucius slipping further away and Draco in London - and the rest of the world closed to them - there was little opportunity for distractions.
She knew she could not rest until she received some sort of closure. It would suffice even if Andromeda sent a Howler back, screaming and cursing her... but silence?
That silence had lasted two decades and through two wars. They'd lost all of their family except each other.
It seemed stupid to still play this game.
Impatience must have driven her insane, for she found herself calling upon the last person she wanted to see. It had to be done.
"Tell her," said Narcissa. "Just one face-to-face. That's all I ask for."
Years and years keeping her face smooth, unreadable, all emotions carefully hidden underneath ("If they cannot read you, they cannot hurt you," Narcissa's mother always said), gone straight out the window.
"Alright," said the Potter boy, evidently taken aback. "I will."
--
The little boy was wobbly on his legs. He didn't get far before he tripped on the grass and fell, face first. Narcissa waited for the tears to come. They didn't.
"Just like his mother," murmured Andromeda. The two of them watched the little boy crawl to his feet, and start up again, as wobbly as ever. His hair turned the same shade of green as the grass.
He was a big child, thought Narcissa, until she remembered that he should be almost one now.
So it has been nearly a year.
It felt like ten. It also felt like yesterday.
"I'll admit," said Narcissa. "I didn't think you would come."
Andromeda sipped her tea. She still liked it strong, no milk, no honey. Same as Bella did. Andromeda and Bella, they were really quite alike in so many little ways. When Narcissa had been younger, she had often felt jealous, feeling like the odd one out...
"You went through Harry," replied Andromeda, "and I know how much you hate owing people."
"That was the last time," said Narcissa firmly.
She did not detest Potter. How could she? He saved her family from Azkaban. He was the reason she still had a roof over her head. But he was still such a... Gryffindor.
Old habits died hard.
They lapsed into another silence. So many years... Narcissa knew it wasn't going to be easy. Not when one of them had lost a husband and a child, and the other once housed, fed, and followed the people who did it.
Of course, there was also the shadow of the third sister between them. For always.
"Well," said Andromeda, leaning back in her chair. "You said you had things to say. I'm listening."
Narcissa was unsure if Andromeda was doing it on purpose. She had to be.
"I wrote, in the letter..." began Narcissa.
"I didn't read the letter."
Definitely on purpose.
Without thinking, Narcissa said, "You know, I really am trying here."
For a brief moment, it almost looked like Andromeda smiled.
"Try harder."
Narcissa sighed, looking down at her own tea (honey and lemon, three sugar cubes). "I was wrong. I know now-"
"Took you long enough."
"-and you have every right to hate me-"
"Do you think so?"
"-but I missed you."
This threw both of them off.
It took a moment for Narcissa to regroup herself.
"And I'm sorry," she finished quietly.
Andromeda's little boy returned to her, and Andromeda hoisted him onto her lap. He happily toyed with her scarf, his hair instantly turning the same shade of purple as the fabric.
"'Sorry' won't bring them back," said Andromeda, stroking her grandson's hair.
She raised her head to meet Narcisssa's gaze, and this time, Narcissa did not flinch. There was no reproach in her sister's gaze; no forgiveness either. But there was a calmness, an iron resolve, and... perhaps. Some understanding.
Better than nothing.
Narcissa looked away, reaching up to adjust a necklace that wasn't there.
Old habits died hard.
"Would you come again?"
Narcissa did not expect anything, but to her surprise, Andromeda said, "I could."
--
It wasn't going to be easy, Narcissa knew, but it would not be hopeless.
--
Spring came, and the jasmines bloomed.
Andromeda's little boy was on a toy broomstick now, whizzing by, shrieking and laughing. "Gran-gran!" he shouted often. "Look at me!" His hair turned flashes of bright yellow.
"His godfather spoils him," was all Andromeda commented.
Narcissa concentrated on her task. She'd grown used to doing this now, and no longer cut herself, but she still had to do it slow.
"Here," she said when she was finished, pushing the plate to her sister.
Andromeda looked down at the peeled apples, sliced to pieces of precision, and raised an eyebrow. "I thought you got your wand back."
Narcissa did. A year and a half ago. Her sentence was the easiest out of her husband and son. "It's more fun this way," she said without thinking.
"Cissy," said Andromeda, staring at her.
She burst out laughing.
Narcissa did, too.
--
They talked of the past sometimes. The simple stuff. Sneaking apple tarts from the pantry, when Mother wasn’t looking. Spying on Bella and her first beau. That time Andromeda and Cissy fought over who got to have the prettier dress robe Father bought from Paris.
Narcissa knew her sister had not forgotten, just as she had not, about the other things. The painful things.
But Andromeda never brought it up, and Narcissa was not a Gryffindor. So they never talked about those.
--
"Did you go to London? How is Draco?"
"Alright. He looks thin."
"He'll always look thin to you."
"Well, he's by himself. I asked him what he's been eating, if he's been cooking, and he shrugs."
"He's a grown boy. You have to let them go sometime, you know."
Narcissa closed her eyes. Her sister's hands were cool and dry. The sounds of snip, snip reassuring and peaceful.
"Meddy?"
"Yes?"
“I’m really happy you’re… back,” Narcissa whispered, staring at her feet. She suddenly felt shy and silly, like a little girl.
Andromeda’s hands paused briefly. Narcissa wanted to sneak a peek at her sister’s face, but something already told her Andromeda was smiling.
When it was over, Andromeda showed her a mirror.
"I like it," said Narcissa, touching her new, short hair.
"I'm glad."
In the reflection Narcissa could see Andromeda's face, not far behind hers. This time she witnessed her sister’s smile for real. What people always used to say was true. They had the same smile, even if they looked nothing else alike.
--
Another winter, another year gone by. Jasmines buried in snow. Next year, Narcissa decided, she would plant a fig tree.
--
The knock on the door came, rousing Narcissa from sleep.
When she saw who it was, Narcissa almost wanted to cry, but she was too tired to make a sound.
Andromeda sat down next to her, folding an arm around Narcissa's shoulder. Narcissa leaned her head against Andromeda's collarbone, as they would when they were girls.
The two of them watched Lucius breathe, lights from the city sweeping dimly in the dark room, the voices and rushed footsteps from outside the doors forgotten, for now.
--
Narcissa brought Lucius white narcissus. He always said he loved her name, and the flower she was named for. On their first date, he'd tucked one behind her ear.
The place was his, next to his brother and mother. He would rest well here. They'd made it Unplottable.
Draco smoothed a finger over his father's name, etched in the grey stone. Narcissa touched her son on the shoulder. He was truly grown up now.
Andromeda was waiting at the gate, Teddy at her side. His hair was dark blue today. He held out something to Narcissa, and Narcissa bent to take it.
"When I eat this I feel better," he told Narcissa, with the seriousness of a four-year-old.
Narcissa pocketed the chocolate. Draco squeezed her hand. Andromeda came to stand on her other side.
With one last glance over her shoulder, Narcissa let her son and sister lead her home.
--
Draco suggested she sell the manor.
"That big place. You there, alone..."
He stopped short of going on, but Narcissa knew what he meant.
The memories and ghosts had not faded for her, either.
"I will think about it," she told him.
In the mornings she watered her jasmines, pruned the fig tree, and spread the mulch. The new addition was forget-me-nots. There was a time when she thought them weed flowers, improper next to her roses and carnations.
But she liked the color. Deeper blue than the sky.
--
Andromeda appeared at Narcissa's elbow, just as the ceremony wrapped to an end.
"Greengrass," remarked Andromeda. "Father mentioned their family once. Irena Greengrass, wasn't it? Our grandfather was supposed to wed her."
"But she dumped him for a Muggle," said Narcissa.
"A woman after my own heart."
Narcissa nudged her. Andromeda just laughed.
They watched the bride and groom, surrounded by their guests. Some faces Narcissa recognized, most she did not. New friends, old friends, all so young. All so alive.
"I remember you and Lucius on your day," said Andromeda. "Five times bigger than this. I could hardly spot you."
Narcissa turned to her sister. "You came?"
"I couldn't miss my own sister's wedding." She saw Narcissa's face and shook her head. "Don't pity me, now. You wouldn't have liked me and Ted's. We did it on a cruise.”
"A what?"
"Oh... never mind."
Draco walked over, kissed Narcissa on the cheek. "Mother." He nodded at Andromeda. "Mind if I borrow her, Auntie?"
"She's all yours, boy."
As her son guided her to the dance floor, Narcissa could not help but think of Lucius. Bella. Her mother and father.
Are you watching us now?
But when she looked into Draco's eyes - he was so tall, her child, that she had to look up - and saw the warmth that hadn't been there for a long, long time (had it ever been in hers?), she let those thoughts go.
The dead would always stay with her, but this day was for the living.
Over Draco's shoulder, Narcissa saw Andromeda raise a champagne glass. Her smile was a touch sad, but a smile nonetheless.
--
Not for the first time, Narcissa wondered how.
How she could have done so many wrongs, and not lost it all.
Some nights she still woke, frozen in bed, cold and breathless, grabbed by a mad desire to Floo right this moment, to see Draco and make sure he was alright and not hurt and not dead. To see her sister and grand-nephew and know that they did not hate her.
The worst were nights when she awoke, thinking she dreamed everything, and in fact nothing had changed. That the Dark Lord was still in her parlor, shrieks of Muggles piercing the air, stench of the snake heavy in her mouth.
--
Another fall (she didn't know which one this was, she'd lost count) and Narcissa stood below the fig tree. It'd grown big, branching over the edges of the fence, casting large shadows over the jasmines and forget-me-nots.
This year she saw something different in the branches, beside the dark green leaves.
Fruit.
It was time, then.
--
"Are you sure?" said Andromeda. "You put in so much work. The asking price is a joke."
Narcissa closed the last curtain, her hand lingering on the familiar ivory silk.
"They agreed to my condition. They're going to leave the garden alone."
Andromeda sighed, but did not argue.
Narcissa put on her coat, looking around one last time.
"Ready?" asked Andromeda.
"Yes," said Narcissa. Goodbye, she said silently to the walls. She imagined it whispered back.
--
"Do you remember your first day?"
Narcissa laughed. "That was forever ago."
"But you remember it well, don't you?"
They could easily follow the rainbow-tinge of Teddy's head as he clambered onto the train, continuing to wave at them so enthusiastically he tripped over the last step and an older boy had to help him up.
Scorpius wiggled, restless, in Narcissa's arms. "I wanna go," he whined.
"You will," said Narcissa, "when you're big."
Scorpius frowned, as if he doubted he would ever be that big.
Time for a child, stretched so vast, so impossibly far. It was strange to imagine.
"There they are," said Andromeda quietly. Narcissa did not have to look to know. All that red hair grouped together in one pack was hard to miss, and add to that at least three owls and five screaming toddlers. Oh, and reporters zoning in, each trying to shout over the other. "Are you sure you don't want to come?"
Narcissa shook her head. "I won't be welcome."
"Harry doesn't blame you."
"The others do." Narcissa smiled, giving her sister a push. "Go on, don't pity me, now. That house would be too much for me. I don't need a headache at my age."
"Don't remind me," said Andromeda with a sigh.
"I think I'll take Scorpius back to Draco's," said Narcissa.
Andromeda nodded. "See you tonight, then?"
"I'll be home."
Her sister turned and weaved away in the crowd, just as the train gave one long blow and began to move.
Narcissa watched it leave in a trail of smoke, carrying with it a load of children, children with little in common except just that they were children.
This was their first day at Hogwarts, and their future lies before them.
Whatever they choose, whatever they do in life, Narcissa only hoped for one thing:
That they would have a day like this too, standing on Platform 3/4, watching their own children go.
And they would have a home to come back to.
END