Chapter Text
(1982)
“Congratulations Lord and Lady Malfoy! You are with a child! They seem to be developing quite nicely!” The healer cheerfully said while both Malfoys stare at her dumbfounded.
Both Malfoys couldn’t believe what they were hearing. A baby… they’re having a baby—another child. A moment of silence washed over the room, the healer unaware of the turmoil between the two Malfoys.
“Will you please give us a moment?” Lucius requested, but it was clear by his tone that it wasn't a request. He holds Narcissa, who is still frozen on her seat as the healer nods and proceeds to walk out of the room.
With the healer gone, Narcissa looks to her husband with glossy eyes. “Luci… I’m not sure if I can take another heartbreak. What if we lose another one again?” She says as she starts to rapidly breathe as the memories wash over her.
Lucius proceeds to kneel at Narcissa as he holds her hands. “It’s alright, dear. Take deep breaths with me. We will not. Lose our baby this time.” He says, putting emphasis on the last part.
Hearing this, Narcissa nods as her breathing starts to return to normal. “Okay, okay… Th-They’ll be safe…” She repeated, but the distrust in her voice was evident.
We will not lose our baby this time.
Narcissa, filled with doubt, tries to cling onto the enthusiastic hope her husband consistently shows her everyday since their checkup with the family’s private healer. Tries, but not completely, as she had made the decision not to let their 3-year-old Draco even get a whiff of what was going on. She accompanies her son daily to feed the peacocks residing in the expanse of Malfoy Manor grounds, teaches him how to paint, and how to play various instruments.
Lucius is a wonderful husband. Despite the recent developments in his career after the defeat of the Dark Lord owing to the infamous Harry Potter, he still manages to take care of her. When she wakes up everyday, she is greeted by the mouth-watering scent of breakfast, as per the orders of Lucius on their house elves. Said husband is at the dining area, already making her tea, exactly how she likes it. And then a kiss, a comfortable chat, and company while eating before he leaves off for work. Being an Unspeakable is not an easy job—when you become the servant to the once most powerful Dark wizard to becoming an insider for the Ministry, it feels as though every single thing you believe in capsizes and inverts.
After being acquitted from his Wizengamot trial just a few days after the famous defeat of the Dark Lord, Lucius offered his knowledge to the Ministry to attempt recovering social currency he’s lost by being outed as a Death Eater. Although his reluctance at the beginning has made the Wizengamot doubt his genuineness at first, he soon found that the job was rather comfortable, still being in the loop of Ministry happenings and being relieved of the pressure to perform due to the inconspicuous nature of those working in the Department of Mysteries.
No one knows this other than Narcissa, albeit it might still be obvious to some—ever since he was presented an ‘out’ to his past life, his polished haggardness declined until he was just Lucius. Without a Dark Lord breathing on his neck, without school governors to control, it made him spend more time with his family and has improved as a person, a husband, and most importantly a father because of it.
Narcissa does notice that there is still that awkwardness with him and their son. After the man has been aloof with his son for the past 3 years, it was hard for Lucius to shed the stern attitude he always had for Draco. Partly because of upholding their family’s standards for the Malfoy heir, but also because of his pride and stubbornness—the latter part which Narcissa has noticed their son also exhibits.
Which leads Narcissa to her current dilemma.
Will Draco be alright with a sibling?
Many noble families have never cared for having multiple children, they only cared about the first child—the heir—the future head of the family and any child that comes after are just for collateral. Although unlike them, Narcissa and Lucius have always wanted to have another child, future heir or not. They have always wanted to have little Malfoys running about in the mansion, so their joy of finally having Draco was immeasurable, so rewarding after being faced to conquer hurdles after hurdles in their pregnancy, and the thought of giving their toddler a sibling, is just so fulfilling as a parent, even if Draco may not be open to the notion of sharing with another child at first.
An example of such behavior was when the Parkinsons visited the Manor during the summer. Pansy and Draco were in the sitting room with their respective house elves supervising them, while the adults were chatting in the powder room. Interrupting the discussion of the adults, one of the Malfoy house-elves, Anya, popped up in the powder room.
“Master Draco and Lady Pansy are fighting!” she chants to the adults with panic.
The adults immediately rushed to the scene, to see two toddlers crying, Pansy’s hair is in disarray while Draco’s ironed clothes are wrinkly. While crying, their respective house elves comforted them, and there in the middle is Draco’s dragon stuffed toy, Abrus, ripped in half and other toys messily scattered around the room.
The parents immediately went to their own children, and taking it as their cue, the two toddlers began retelling their story whilst snot and tears came down their faces.
“Father, she broke Abrus!” Draco cries to his father while indignantly pointing at the crying Pansy.
“Mommy he didn’t want to share!” Pansy cries as she stomps her little foot.
“Because she said my toys are ugly!” He angrily yells back to Pansy.
“DID NOT!”
“DID TOO!”
With a bit of back and forth, the adults were able to get the full story with Pansy’s house elf, Anya. “Anya saw that Master Draco did not want to share his dragon toy with Lady Pansy! Lady Pansy started stomping! Anya tried to calm down Lady Pansy, but Master Draco started pulling Lady Pansy’s hair and Lady Pansy kept kicking Master Draco! When Anya and Orlow pulled them apart, they started throwing their toys at each other! That’s when Anya went to call masters.”
Orlow, the other house elf, continues the story. “Then Lady Pansy see the dragon and Master Draco started pulling it back while Lady Pansy also pulls it! The dragon ripped and they starts to cry!”
The adults are furious but try to keep their cool and immediately conclude this failed play date. The Parkinsons flooed back to their estate, the couple making sure to apologize to the Malfoys, Lucius ordered the house elves to start cleaning up and find Draco a new dragon toy, while Narcissa gave Draco a stern telling off for his improper behavior today.
“But mommy, she started it!” He says indignantly while Narcissa waits for the healing potions. She sighed at Draco’s whining “My love, it didn’t matter who started it, it was still very rude,” Draco was about to retort when Narcissa put a finger on his small lips “Shush, darling. They were visitors in our home, you should treat them with hospitality. How you acted today was not nice! What was the very first lesson Teacher Pimm taught you?” Teacher Pimm is Draco’s etiquette tutor.
There was a minute of silence, with Draco pouting while Narcissa looked at him with a stern face, before finally Draco mumbles “Not to hit a lady…”
Narcissa nods, “And Pansy is a lady, is she not?”
“She is…”
Narcissa hums in agreement, “So what do we do when we hit someone?”
“We say sorry…”
Narcissa nods as she allows a small smile on her face, “Correct. Now… later on, we shall write an apology letter to Pansy, understood?”
Draco nods as his pout lessens and his expression turns to something akin to understanding.
Though they did make up the next day, reminiscing about this moment left Lucius and Narcissa worried about how Draco would behave when the baby comes.
20 weeks after the initial checkup, they were ready to tell their little dragon about the life inside Narcissa. It was around this week when they both found out about the baby’s gender—a girl, a beautiful, perfect baby girl. Narcissa was ecstatic while Lucius was a bit anxious, a girl as his child… of course he will still love the child nonetheless, but this is new territory, he could barely get along with his son, but now he’s having a girl?
Lucius, sporting a worried look, took her hands in his and asked his excited wife as soon as the healer left. “‘Cissa, what are we supposed to do?”
Narcissa looked at him with confusion. “What do you mean, Luci?”
Lucius let go of her hands and began pacing around the room as he ran his hands through his long locks. “A girl, ‘Cissa, we’re having a girl.”
“Yes, Luci, I am aware of that—in fact, I was with you when healer Cuoco announced it.” Narcissa says with a ‘matter-of-factly’ tone.
“Not like that, ‘Cissa. What– What am I gonna do? I can barely talk to our son, what more with the girl—our daughter? What am I supposed to do?”
Narcissa, finally realizing the root of her husband’s dilemma, chuckles and rolls her eyes as she listens to her husband’s continuous monologue.
I can’t believe this is the man that is feared by many…
She then carefully stood up and stopped her husband’s pacing by standing in front of him.
She then raises a hand to palm his cheek and coos at him with a small smile. “Oh my darling, I remember when we first had our Draco, I still vividly remember our shared anxiety.”
Lucius closes his eyes and leans into his touch. “I remember it too, my love.”
“And do you remember when I said we’ll figure it out?”
Lucius slowly opens his eyes and holds the hand on his cheek. “You did.”
“Listen to me now, Luci. We figured it out then, we’ll figure it out now.”
Lucius has always been a weak man for his wife. Who was he to disagree with the most beautiful woman he’s ever had the privilege to marry?
He gently puts his free hand on Narcissa’s nape and pulls her in, lips locking in a tender dance in which they are both all too familiar with.
(January, 1983)
It was in the middle of January when Narcissa and Lucius decided to surprise their son about his little sister. Few weeks prior, they have been easing Draco into the idea of having a little sibling, and now, while he doesn’t seem to be overly enthusiastic about such a thought, he is taking it into consideration.
The day before, they decided to cancel Draco’s classes for the day, to which Draco happily cheered over dinner the night before, and they’re now in the dining room, having brunch (They allowed Draco to sleep in just for this day). Both Lucius and Narcissa were rather excited to tell Draco about the little life growing in Narcissa.
“Orlow, bring in the dessert.” Lucius orders the house-elf. Draco snaps his head at his father, eyes wide. “We’re having dessert for brunch?” Narcissa chuckles at Draco’s expression.
“Yes mon dragon, we’re having dessert for brunch.” Draco happily bounces in his seat with a wide smile as the floating plates with slices of fraisier settle in front of the Malfoy family.
Draco looks like he wants to squeal in delight as he gets to eat his favorite cake so early in the day. Narcissa and Lucius softly chuckles at their son’s enthusiastic reaction.
Unknown to Draco, there's a hidden message underneath his cake. As the family started eating, the parents' excitement grew as Draco continued taking a bite of his slice of cake.
Once Draco finished scarfing down his cake, he read what was on his plate, ‘Hello big brother! Can’t wait to see you!’ It says. There both Lucius and Narcissa were amused by their son’s expression.
It started off as confusion, then something akin to understanding, but then his eyes widened in surprise, and a big smile broke through his face. “I am going to be a big brother?!” He excitedly asked his parents—who were surprised with this reaction, because as far as they knew, he wasn’t really on board with such prospect yet—and he squealed when his parents nodded, and quickly went down from his chair and ran to his mother to hug her but was stopped when he finally noticed Narcissa’s swollen belly, and looked at it with confusion.
“Mommy, why is your belly so big?” Draco asks as his eyes flick from the belly to his mother.
Narcissa chuckles, “Your little sister is in here sweetie.”
Draco’s eyes widen in both surprise and confusion as both his parents palm the belly.
“Huh? So little sister is inside your dress mommy?” Draco asks for clarification, making both his parents softly chuckle.
“Technically, yes.” Lucius answers.
Draco then starts scratching his head in confusion. “So I shall be choosing my sibling in the dress?”
Now it’s their turn to be confused. “What do you mean, love?” Narcissa asks.
“I’ll choose my sibling!” Draco reiterates with full confidence, “We will… atop!”
Realization dawns on the couple. “Draco… do you mean, adopt?” Lucius clarifies.
“That’s what I said?” Draco raises an eyebrow.
“Oh, Draco, dear, we won’t be adopting.” And before Narcissa can even continue, Draco quips.
“Why not?” Draco tilts his head, looking like the most adorable crup. “Pansy said that’s how she got Ferdi! So why can’t I pick one too?”
Oh right, the adopted heir of the Parkinsons. The Parkinsons recently adopted a child, a boy named Ferdinand, to be the next family head when Pansy marries into another noble family.
“Because…” Narcissa lengthens the vowels, stalling to think of a not-so-lengthy reason to provide Draco in this fine morning, “We don’t have to! ”
Somehow, this satiates the toddler’s thoughts. But just when they thought the questioning was over, Draco began.
“What’s her name?”
Narcissa and Lucius look at each other.
Right.
Since that day, Draco now clings to his mother to be close to his little sister. Because, according to Pansy’s response to the footnote in his apology letter imparting the news, being close to your sibling would help them get to know you better!
Draco is persistent in knowing her baby sister’s name. While it is comforting whenever Lucius goes on a mission, there are days wherein Narcissa would love to have some me time, especially when Draco keeps asking her with those big doe eyes, ‘What’s her name?’
Narcissa merely switches to another topic, which works 99% of the time since they can’t answer him properly yet. But she and Lucius are aware of their priority now—they have to give their little girl a name soon.
In the Malfoy Manor’s private library, there exists a tome of the ancestry of both the Blacks and the Malfoys. An invaluable compendium of every family member—details about their lives, their history, and their fates. Narcissa often visits the library to peruse these ancient records to learn more about them, but also to reminisce what once was.
There is a specific page in the Black’s ancestry tome that Narcissa keeps coming back to. A page that epitomizes Narcissa’s past life—all of her joy, sadness, triumphs, mistakes, fond memories, and regrets during her youth. She can’t help but look at it and yearn for what once was. A time that was simpler. A time where blood felt like a reassuring bond rather than a restriction, upholding pointless rules and standards to maintain its purity.
“Mommy, will little sister come to my birthday?” Draco asks while palming Narcissa’s 7 month pregnant belly. She chuckles as she puts down her book on the patio table and puts her hand over Draco’s small one.
“I don’t know my little dragon… But healer Cuoco did say that it is a possibility.”
Draco’s eyes and smile widened, “So little sister can come to my birthday?”
“If she comes out early, maybe.”
Draco then put his face near Narcissa’s belly and started whispering “Come on little sister, come out now! I have the most amazing birthday party and you will like it a lot!”
Narcissa chuckles at her eldest’s antics—his attempt of coercing his younger sibling this early is rather entertaining. And although the little girl didn’t respond by coming out of Narcissa, she started kicking inside Narcissa’s belly, a now familiar scene to Draco, who still watches in amazement as the tiny limbs show.
The scene reminds Narcissa of a much simpler time… a time when Narcissa was filled with just as much innocence as Draco has…
Narcissa’s back at the private library. It's a common occurrence nowadays. She always comes here right after breakfast, when Lucius departs for work. To another person it may seem that the reason why she keeps coming back was the side effect of emotions running rampant during pregnancy. But she knows herself better.
She navigates the Black’s ancestry tome to return to that page.
A portrait of three girls that covers the entire left page. Therein includes the youthful faces of Bellatrix Black, Andromeda Black, and her own. The three sisters display a neutral expression on the portrait, but Narcissa will always remember the joy when they were still together, untainted by the expectations of the world and what it had in store for them for the years to come. How their individual beliefs were the sole reason why they aren’t in contact with each other anymore.
They all fought for what they thought was right—Bellatrix, justifying the pureblood legacy of the Sacred 28, Andromeda, fighting for her love, and Narcissa, following her mother’s footsteps and becoming a faithful wife and continuing their family line.
Bellatrix was the oldest of the three. Ever since graduating Hogwarts, she stuck with people who shared the belief of pureblood superiority and found Lord Voldemort. With him, she was able to advocate for the worldwide domination of pureblood wizards. Lord Voldemort’s supporters, called Death Eaters, aimed to eliminate all half-bloods, Muggles, and any non-magical beings to achieve this advocacy. But alas, they were never successful in this endeavor, as Lord Voldemort’s defeat by The Boy Who Lived left the entire congregation of Death Eaters to go into shambles. As of now, Bellatrix is in Azkaban, after being sentenced for life with her husband. Narcissa can’t find the heart to be sorry for her, seeing that she deserved it after all that’s she’s done.
On the other hand…
Andromeda was always Narcissa’s favorite sister. In a way, she was who Narcissa looked up to during their childhood. Level-headed and strong, she was never the type to gloat, unlike their other family members. It pained Narcissa when she was as helpless as her sister when she was banished after getting married to that Muggle Ted Tonks.
She could’ve convinced their mother to rethink about disowning her, come up with an excuse along the lines of ‘Andromeda’s not thinking straight’, giving them more time at the very least to plan their next move.
She could’ve.
But she didn’t.
The regret has always been there, gnawing at the back of her mind ever since that fateful night. And now that Draco is about to have a sibling, Narcissa hopes her son’s relationship with his little sister will never be strained as her relationship with her own sisters.
In that moment, Narcissa is left with an epiphany.
She wants to make it right.
Narcissa finds herself a quill and a piece of parchment. Carrying decades worth of guilt, she pours her heart out like a dam with walls finally breaking. It’s as if the words write itself on the parchment and all Narcissa can do is let it happen.
Dear Lady Tonks,
I do not know if you will welcome a letter from me after all these years, but I find that I can no longer endure the silence between us. I have told myself, time and time again, that writing would be futile—that you would never wish to hear from me after the way I turned my back on you. But no matter how much time passes, you are still my sister.
I will not make excuses for the choices I have made. But that’s the thing, I did have a choice. And I made the wrong one. When you left, I told myself that I had no choice but to do what was expected of me—to stand by our family, to sever ties as I was told to. I chose to listen to our mother to not reach out to you, and even after her demise, I still allowed the silence between us to continue.
I have heard whispers of your life, small pieces of the world you built for yourself. I know that you have a family now, that you are happy in ways our childhood home would never have allowed. And though I did not have the courage to stand with you, I have never wished you anything but happiness.
If there is any part of you that still remembers the bond we once shared, if there is any part of you that might wish to speak to me, I would welcome the chance. And if not, I will understand.
With regret and hope,
Narcissa Malfoy
Narcissa stood by the grand window of Malfoy Manor’s drawing room, watching the gardens below with a distant gaze. The winter chill pressed against the glass, but inside, the fire crackled warmly. Still, no amount of warmth could quiet the unease in her chest. It had been a week since she had sent her letter to Andromeda. A week of waiting, of second-guessing, of convincing herself that silence was the only answer she would ever receive.
She had seen Bay return the day after he was sent, his sharp wings cutting through the grey sky. Her heart had leapt at the sight of him, but he carried nothing back—no parchment tied to his leg, no sign that her words had been acknowledged. Still, she told herself that Andromeda was not the sort to dismiss a letter outright. No, she would read it. She would think about it. And then she would decide. Narcissa continues to stare in a daze, completely deep in thought as she palms her 7 months pregnant belly, finding some sort of comfort at the repeated action.
A sharp rap at the window startled her from her thoughts. She turned, her breath catching.
There, perched on the stone ledge, was a barn owl—not one of the Malfoy birds.
For a moment, she simply stared, as if the sight of it could not be real. Then, pulse quickening, she carefully strode across the room and unlatched the window, allowing the owl to step gracefully onto the sill. It was a sturdy creature, its feathers flecked with light brown, and it regarded her with a sharp, intelligent gaze. She recognized it now—it was not an unfamiliar sight, though it had never come to her before.
Andromeda’s owl.
With careful fingers, Narcissa untied the small parchment from its leg, her hands uncharacteristically unsteady. She hesitated, staring down at her own name written in a familiar, if slightly sharper, script.
She had prepared herself for silence. She had not prepared for this.
Taking a slow breath, she unfolded the letter.
Dear Lady Malfoy,
I was surprised to receive your letter. After all these years, I had nearly forgotten what your handwriting looked like.
I will not pretend that your words do not stir something in me. For a long time, I wished for a letter like this—for any sign that you still thought of me, that you regretted how things ended between us. But time has made me wary. It is difficult to simply set aside the past, especially when it was not just silence that stood between us, but abandonment.
You say you had a choice, and you made the wrong one. That is not easy for me to hear, because I had no choice. I could not change who I loved, nor could I live a life dictated by the narrow expectations of our family. You, however, were allowed to stay. To remain comfortable. And now, after all these years, you are reaching out—why?
I do not write this to wound you, only to be honest. You say you wish to mend what has been broken, and part of me wonders if that is even possible. But you were my sister once, and though I have built a life without you in it, I would be lying if I said I never missed you.
So, I will not close the door on this entirely. If you truly wish to speak, I am willing to listen. But understand this, Lady Malfoy—I do not know if I can trust you yet. That will take time.
Sincerely,
Andromeda Tonks
The parchment trembled slightly between Narcissa’s fingers as she read.
Lady Malfoy.
That was the first thing she noticed. Not Narcissa, not Cissa, but Lady Malfoy. She knows that she’s the one who put the distance, but… why? Why did it hurt so much when she complied with her unspoken request? But despite the formality, despite the wariness woven between the lines, Andromeda had written back.
Her heart twisted as she read on, absorbing each carefully chosen word. The resentment, the hurt—Narcissa could feel them as keenly as if Andromeda stood before her, speaking them aloud. And she could not fault her sister for it. Everything Andromeda said was true. She had been allowed to stay. She had remained comfortable. And she had watched in silence as Andromeda was cast out, making no effort to defy their family’s cruelty.
She traced the sharp slant of Andromeda’s signature, her throat tightening.
For years, Narcissa had convinced herself that reaching out was impossible, that too much time had passed, that her sister would never want to hear from her. Now, faced with the reality of it, she realized that she had feared this even more than silence—a reply that was not a dismissal, but something fragile and uncertain. A test.
Andromeda was not shutting the door entirely.
But she was not welcoming Narcissa just yet, either.
Swallowing, Narcissa moved toward her writing desk, the letter still clutched in her hand. She hesitated only briefly before pulling out a fresh sheet of parchment and dipping her quill in ink.
She would not waste this chance.
Dear Lady Tonks,
Your reply means more to me than I can properly say. I did not expect warmth, nor do I deserve it. But I am grateful—more than you know—that you have chosen to answer me at all.
You ask why I am reaching out now, after all these years. That is a fair question, and one I owe you an honest answer to. I will not claim that I am without fear, that I do not see the storm gathering around us and feel the weight of my choices pressing in. But this is not simply a matter of fear. This is about regret. About the years I lost with you, and the knowledge that I let them slip away without ever trying to make amends.
You have every reason to be wary of me. You have built a life beyond the shadows of the Black family, while I remained within them. But despite everything, you were my sister first. And I miss you, Andromeda. I always have.
I do not expect you to trust me easily, nor do I ask for it. Trust is something that must be earned, and I am willing to do so, if you will allow me the chance.
If you are open to further correspondence, I would like to continue writing to you. If not, I will respect your wishes. Either way, please know that I do not take your reply lightly.
With sincerity,
Narcissa Malfoy
As the winter cold melted, giving full way to spring, the sisters continued sending their letters, and soon enough Lady Tonks became ‘Dromeda, and Lady Malfoy became ‘Cissa. Though there is still a bit of distrust—bit of weariness, it is still undeniable that the two sisters are now falling into some sort of comfortable back and forth.
Lucius had his reservations at first. He was nothing if not a cautious man, and Narcissa’s decision to reconnect with her estranged sister had, initially, unsettled him. Not because he doubted Narcissa’s ability to handle herself, nor because he bore any particular grudge against Andromeda—she had been effectively erased from the family long before he had even married into it. No, his concern had been solely for Narcissa, for her well-being, for her heart. He worried about what reopening that old wound might do to her, how it might leave her vulnerable to disappointment, to hurt. Especially in a time where her emotions are all over the place due to their baby girl’s development.
But now, watching her—truly watching her—Lucius knew he had been wrong to worry.
There was a lightness to his wife that he hadn't seen in years, something so subtle yet so undeniable that even their son had noticed.
“Why is Mommy happy today?” Draco had asked him just the other evening, his small brow furrowed in the way only a three-year-old could manage—serious, determined, yet wholly endearing.
Lucius had glanced at Narcissa then, noting the way she absently rested a hand over the gentle swell of her belly, her lips curved in the ghost of a smile as she read through a letter, parchment held delicately between her fingers as though it were something precious. And, in truth, it was.
The letters had started a month and two weeks ago. At first, they had been cautious, formal things—testing the waters of a once-shattered bond, both sisters treading carefully over the cracks of time and silence. But gradually, as each letter arrived, the words had grown warmer, sentences longer, paragraphs more fluid. They spoke not of the years lost but of the present, of things both big and small—Narcissa’s life, Andromeda’s life beyond the world she had left behind, memories of childhood that neither of them had thought they would ever speak of again.
And now, after weeks of tentative yet ever-deepening correspondence, Narcissa had made a decision.
She was going to see Andromeda.
She stood before her mirror now, hands smoothing over the fabric of her robes, the deep blue beautifully complimenting her long black hair. At nearly eight months along, her belly was undeniably prominent, but there was a quiet elegance to the way she carried herself, a grace that pregnancy had never dulled.
Lucius leaned against the doorway, watching her with an unreadable expression.
"Are you sure about this?" His voice was even, but she knew him too well to miss the thread of concern woven into it.
Narcissa met his gaze in the mirror, and something in her eyes softened.
"I am."
Lucius hesitated only a moment before nodding. He had long since learned that there were battles worth fighting and those best left untouched. And if this—if she—made Narcissa happy, then he would not stand in the way.
Still, as she turned to face him fully, one hand reaching for his, he found himself searching her face, as though committing this moment to memory.
"Then go," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "But if she says or does anything to upset you—"
Narcissa huffed a quiet laugh. "You’ll what? Duel her?"
Lucius merely lifted a brow. He didn’t need to answer.
With one last glance toward their sleeping son—who had, only an hour before, been bouncing with curiosity about where "Mummy was going", Narcissa took a steadying breath and prepared herself for what was to come.
For better or for worse, she was finally going to see her sister again.
The afternoon air was crisp as Narcissa stepped outside the grand entrance of Malfoy Manor, the cool breeze rustling the hem of her cloak. The sky overhead was a soft, muted gray, and though the vast estate stretched endlessly before her, she felt—strangely—small.
She had faced many things in her life. She had walked among the most powerful families in the Wizarding World, had stood beside her husband through political maneuverings and societal expectations, had carried herself with unwavering composure even when she felt anything but. But this, this felt different.
The carriage that would take her to their meeting place was already waiting, the house elves having fussed over every detail of her departure for the past hour. Lucius had insisted that she not Apparate, no matter how confident she felt; she was eight months along, and he had made it clear that he would not tolerate any risks.
She had agreed, if only to spare herself another one of his exasperated lectures.
A warm hand settled on the small of her back, and she turned to find Lucius beside her. He had followed her out, ever the silent observer, his cool gray eyes studying her face.
“There’s still time to change your mind,” he said, though there was no malice in it, only quiet concern.
“I won’t.” She tilted her chin up, smoothing her hands over the fabric of her robes. “I need—I want to do this.”
Lucius exhaled through his nose, nodding once before he reached for her hand, fingers curling around hers. He didn’t say anything else, but she knew him well enough to understand: If you need me, I will be there.
It was enough.
With a final parting squeeze of his hand, she stepped into the carriage.
The café was small, tucked away on a quiet London street, chosen deliberately for its lack of interest to both the aristocracy and the Ministry. It was not a place Narcissa Malfoy—or Andromeda Tonks, for that matter—would usually frequent, and that was precisely why it was perfect.
Narcissa arrived first. The inside was warm, filled with the scent of coffee and fresh pastries, and the hum of conversation was low, allowing her a rare moment of quiet. She chose a table near the window, smoothing her skirt over her legs as she waited.
Minutes passed.
Then—
The bell above the door chimed softly.
Narcissa knew, even before she turned, that it was her.
Andromeda stood in the doorway, dark eyes scanning the café with the cautious wariness of someone stepping into uncertain territory. She was exactly as Narcissa remembered and yet entirely different. Her face had aged gracefully, the sharp angles of youth softened, but there was still that unmistakable Black family bearing in the way she held herself—proud, composed, self-assured.
And then Andromeda’s gaze found hers.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then, hesitantly, Andromeda made her way over to the table.
“‘Cissa,” she said, voice careful, as though she wasn’t entirely sure she had the right to say it anymore.
Narcissa’s lips parted slightly at the sound of her childhood name on her sister’s tongue. “‘Dromeda.”
The silence between them stretched for a moment—neither comfortable nor unbearable, just… uncertain.
Then Andromeda’s gaze dropped.
Narcissa saw it happen in real-time—the way Andromeda’s entire body tensed, the way her eyes widened ever so slightly as they landed on the unmistakable swell of her belly.
The moment stretched taut between them.
"You’re—" Andromeda’s voice faltered, her eyes snapping back up to Narcissa’s face. "You’re pregnant?"
Narcissa blinked, caught off guard. "I—yes, I thought—I thought I mentioned it in my letters."
Andromeda let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh—half-amused, half-exasperated. "You thought you mentioned it?"
Narcissa frowned slightly, thinking back. She had written so many letters, pages upon pages of careful words, of hesitant reconnection. Surely she had—
Oh.
No.
She hadn’t.
Somehow, in all her cautious wording, in all her carefully chosen confessions, she had never once explicitly told Andromeda that she was expecting another child.
And now her sister was staring at her with something close to astonishment.
"Merlin, Cissa," Andromeda breathed, shaking her head, and for the first time since she walked in, something in her expression cracked open. Not anger, not judgment—just sheer, unfiltered shock. "You're very pregnant."
"Eight months," Narcissa admitted, suddenly feeling almost self-conscious. She wasn’t sure why—perhaps because she had spent years envisioning what this reunion might look like, but never once had she imagined it beginning with an accidental bombshell.
Andromeda exhaled, then let out a soft, disbelieving chuckle. "Eight months," she repeated, as if trying to process it. "And here I was, thinking I was the one with surprises today."
Something in Narcissa’s chest loosened—just a little.
"Well," she said wryly, "I suppose we’re both full of surprises."
Andromeda looked at her for a long moment, and then—slowly, carefully—she smiled.
It wasn’t much. It wasn’t a grand, sweeping reconciliation, nor a dramatic outpouring of lost years. But it was something.
And for now, it was enough.
The sisters chatted for hours, ordering pastries and drinks along the way, their conversation ebbing and flowing like a tide neither of them had expected to return.
At first, their words were careful—like walking over unfamiliar ground, wary of loose stones that could send them tumbling. But as time passed, the hesitations grew fewer. Laughter came easier, memories surfaced naturally, and the space between them, once filled with silence, was now rich with the warmth of shared history.
“I still remember the way you used to sneak sugar quills into your room when we were children,” Andromeda said, shaking her head fondly as she stirred her tea. “You thought you were being so clever, but Bella and I always knew.”
Narcissa scoffed, lifting her cup to her lips. “You knew because you stole them when I wasn’t looking.”
Andromeda grinned. “It was a lesson in preparedness, really.”
A quiet chuckle passed between them, and for a fleeting moment, they weren’t two women sitting across from each other after years of estrangement—they were simply ‘Dromeda and ‘Cissa again.
But not everything could be so lighthearted.
As their plates emptied and the afternoon light softened, Andromeda glanced at Narcissa’s belly again. It wasn’t the first time her gaze had flickered there, but now, for the first time, she spoke.
"Do you—" She hesitated. "Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?"
"A girl," Narcissa said softly, resting a hand against the curve of her stomach. "A daughter."
Andromeda’s lips parted slightly, as if the answer had caught her off guard. “A girl,” she repeated, and then, almost to herself, “Another Black woman in the world.”
Narcissa blinked, surprised by the emotion in her sister’s voice. “Yes.”
Andromeda nodded, her fingers tracing absent patterns against the side of her teacup. “You must be excited.”
“I am,” Narcissa admitted. But still, she hesitated before adding, “And a little nervous.”
Andromeda looked at her then, properly looked at her, and in that moment, Narcissa saw it—the understanding, the quiet acknowledgment of things left unsaid.
“I was too,” Andromeda admitted.
There it was. Ted. Nymphadora. The life Andromeda had built beyond the name she had been born with. They had danced around it all afternoon, but now, finally, they were here.
Narcissa exhaled, fingers tightening slightly around her cup. “You have a daughter.” It wasn’t a question. She knew this. She had known for years.
Andromeda’s lips curved, soft and proud. “I do. Her name is Nymphadora.”
Narcissa hummed, tilting her head. “An… unusual name.”
Andromeda laughed. “Don’t let her hear you say that. She prefers ‘Tonks.’”
“Tonks?” Narcissa arched a delicate brow. “That’s hardly better.”
"She thinks it is," Andromeda said with a small shrug, before eyeing Narcissa playfully. "Though, if you think that’s odd, you should see her hair."
That piqued Narcissa’s interest. "Her hair?"
Andromeda smirked, leaning in slightly. "It changes color. At will."
Narcissa’s eyes widened. "You mean she’s a Metamorphmagus?"
Andromeda nodded, pride evident in the tilt of her chin. "From birth."
For a moment, Narcissa was silent, taking that in. A niece. A Metamorphmagus niece.
She had spent years deliberately avoiding thoughts of Andromeda’s child, of the life she had chosen, unwilling to acknowledge the family she had lost. But now—now she was faced with it. And she found that the thought did not sting the way she had once expected it to.
Instead, she felt something else entirely.
Curiosity.
A quiet longing for something she was no longer sure she had the right to claim.
And perhaps Andromeda sensed it, because she spoke again, voice softer this time.
“She’d like to meet you, you know.”
Narcissa’s breath caught, just for a second.
She had expected this conversation to come eventually. Had even prepared for it, in a distant sort of way. But now that it was here—
“Andromeda, I—” She hesitated, pressing her lips together. “I don’t know if—”
"You don’t have to decide now," Andromeda said gently, as if reading her mind. "I just… I wanted you to know."
The silence stretched between them again, but this time, it wasn’t heavy. It was contemplative.
Finally, Narcissa nodded. “Thank you.”
A thoughtful look crossed her face, and she hesitated before saying, “Draco would love to know you, too.”
Andromeda blinked, clearly startled by the admission.
“He’s only three, but he’s so… curious. He notices everything. He’s already asked why I’ve been happier lately.” Narcissa let out a small breath, something caught between amusement and reflection. “I told him I was talking to my sister again. And now he won’t stop asking about you.”
Andromeda’s lips parted slightly, surprise flickering across her features.
“He asks if you’re nice,” Narcissa continued with a soft chuckle. “If you’re funny. If you’ll come visit. He’s quite determined to know all about you.”
A silence settled between them, heavier than before, but not uncomfortable. Just… full.
Andromeda swallowed, voice quiet when she finally spoke. “I’d like to know him, too.”
Outside, the sun had begun to set, painting the sky in hues of soft gold and dusky lavender. Hours had passed, and yet, somehow, it still didn’t feel like enough.
Andromeda sighed. “I suppose I should let you get home.”
Narcissa exhaled through her nose, something between reluctant and resigned. “Lucius is likely already pacing.”
Andromeda smirked. “I imagine he wasn’t particularly thrilled about this meeting.”
Narcissa gave her a pointed look. “You imagine correctly.”
A laugh, easy and familiar.
And then, finally, Andromeda stood.
Narcissa followed, and for a moment, they simply stood there, neither quite sure how to end this.
Then, before she could overthink it, Andromeda reached out—hesitant but deliberate—and lightly touched Narcissa’s arm. A simple gesture, but one that carried weight.
“I’m glad we did this,” Andromeda said.
Narcissa swallowed, something in her chest tightening—something old and aching, but also… healing.
“Likewise,” she admitted.
(June 16, 1983)
The past few days after Draco’s birthday, Narcissa has been feeling what the healer called, false labor, during the early hours of the morning. Healer Cuoco explained that it was the body’s preparation for real labor.
When Narcissa felt it around midnight, she thought it was just that— false labor. But then, it started coming more often— it started 25 minutes apart, then 15, then 10, next thing she knew, Lucius was already getting out of bed, barking orders to the house-elves and calling the healer.
The contractions came faster than she had expected.
By the time the healer arrived, the pain had sharpened, rolling through her in waves that left her breathless. Narcissa gritted her teeth, fingers curling around the sheets as another contraction tightened around her belly.
Lucius was at her side in an instant while healer Cuoco covers her open legs with a lightweight blanket for privacy.
"You're doing fine, my love," her husband murmured, voice steadier than she knew he felt. His hand brushed her damp hair back, his other clasping hers firmly. He was trying to be calm, composed—but she could see the tightness in his jaw, the flicker of worry in his silver eyes.
"The baby is coming sooner than expected," the healer observed, voice brisk but not alarmed. "But everything is progressing well, Lady Malfoy. Just breathe."
Breathe.
Narcissa exhaled shakily, squeezing Lucius’s hand as another contraction rippled through her. She knew this pain. She had endured it before with Draco. But knowing didn’t make it any easier.
A small cry sounded from the doorway.
"Mummy?"
Draco stood just beyond the threshold, small and wide-eyed, his pale blond hair tousled from sleep. A house-elf hovered behind him anxiously, wringing its hands, but it was clear Draco had insisted on coming.
Lucius turned swiftly, his face softening despite the tension in his shoulders. “Draco, my boy—”
"Is little sister coming?" Draco asked, voice hushed with awe and concern.
Narcissa swallowed against another contraction, offering him the gentlest smile she could manage. "Yes, darling."
Draco hesitated, gaze darting between his mother and father, before taking a small, determined step forward. “Can I stay?”
Lucius stiffened. “Draco, this is not—”
But Narcissa shook her head. "Let him."
Lucius hesitated, his protective instincts warring with his wife’s wishes. But after a moment, he relented with a nod. The house-elf quickly moved to guide Draco to a chair by the bed, where he sat, eyes round with fascination.
Hours passed. The sky outside began to lighten, dawn creeping over the Malfoy estate. The contractions worsened, pain sharp and consuming. Narcissa held onto Lucius, his steady presence anchoring her as she pushed through the final, agonizing stretch of labor.
And then—
A sharp cry split the air.
For a moment, everything was still.
Then the healer moved swiftly, wrapping the tiny, squirming figure in soft blankets before turning to Narcissa with a rare, genuine smile. “Congratulations, Lord and Lady Malfoy, your healthy baby girl is here.”
Narcissa’s chest tightened with something raw and overwhelming. She barely had the strength to lift her arms, but when the healer placed the newborn against her, she let out a trembling breath.
The baby was warm, small, and perfect. A soft wail escaped her tiny lips before settling into little huffs and whimpers.
"She’s here…" Lucius breathed beside her, his voice filled with something unreadable. Reverence. Astonishment.
Narcissa tilted her head slightly to look at him. He was staring down at their newborn, his expression caught between awe and disbelief, as if he hadn't quite let himself imagine this moment until now.
Draco, who had been unusually quiet, suddenly spoke.
"She's so small, mommy," he whispered, scooting closer.
Narcissa turned to look at him. He was watching the baby intently, his little face filled with wonder.
“She is,” Narcissa agreed softly. “Would you like to meet your sister, darling?”
Draco nodded eagerly. Carefully, with Lucius’s help, he climbed onto the bed beside his mother. Narcissa shifted slightly, letting Draco peek at the bundle in her arms.
The baby let out a tiny noise, her nose scrunching up before she yawned.
Draco giggled. “She looks funny.”
Narcissa let out a tired chuckle, her fingers gently brushing over her daughter’s impossibly soft cheek. “She’s just new to the world, love.”
Draco leaned in closer, as if committing every detail to memory. Then, he opened his arms to embrace his mother and sister.
Seeing this tender sight before him, Lucius exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He reached out, his long fingers brushing over the downy blond wisps atop his daughter’s head."What shall we name her?" he asked at last.
Narcissa inhaled slowly. She had turned the name over in her mind for months now, hesitant, unsure if she had the courage. But looking at her daughter now, at the perfect little life she had brought into the world, she knew.
“Andromeda.”
Lucius’s brow twitched slightly—he was surprised, though he quickly masked it. She had not told him, had not revealed the name she had carried in her heart. But something about the way she said it, the quiet certainty in her voice, made him pause. He repeats his daughter’s name, as if testing the weight of it.
Narcissa nods in response. "A strong name," she murmurs, running a gentle finger along her daughter’s tiny hand. "One that carries meaning."
Lucius studied her for a long moment. He did not question her choice. He never had when it truly mattered. Instead, he let his gaze soften as he leaned closer, pressing the lightest of kisses to his wife’s forehead, then another to his daughter’s.
Draco, who had been listening intently, grinned as he repeated, “Andromeda.” He giggled when his baby sister wriggled slightly at the sound of her name. "She likes it!"
Narcissa chuckled, warmth flooding her chest.
She had not told her sister yet. She did not know how she would. But one day, she would see the look on Andromeda’s face when she learned the truth—that despite the years of silence, despite the choices that had once separated them, Narcissa had never truly let go.
For now, she simply held her daughter close, breathing in the quiet, fleeting magic of the moment.
A few days later, little Andromeda is situated in her own bassinet with the help of healer Cuoco. During last night’s dinner, Draco appeared to be troubled. Narcissa, always the attentive mother, asked her son what was bothering him.
“Mommy, does little sister Andromeda love me?” He replied to her mother’s question with another question, his face sporting a moue of doubt.
“Oh, my love, of course she does.” Narcissa places down her cutlery to caress his son’s cheek in reassurance.
“But it doesn’t seem like she does!”
“Tell you what, we’ll show it to you after supper.”
Sure enough, Narcissa and Lucius bring Draco to her little sister once more, this time with a surprise. Baby Andromeda is in deep slumber when they arrive, and the couple lead Draco to stand beside her peaceful frame.
“Did you know, my love? Andromeda can show you just how much she loves you.” Narcissa began.
“Really?” Her son widens his eyes in interest.
“Yes, really. If you extend a finger to her palm and she squeezes it veeery hard, then that means she loves you so much.”
Not wanting to waste a single moment, Draco does as told. The unmistakable grip of her sister’s hand makes Draco laugh in elation.
“Look, mommy! Look, daddy! She loves me! My little sister loves me!”
Lucius kneels beside Draco, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder.
“You’re right, my son. She does. And know nothing will ever change that.”
(Later that day)
Dear ‘Cissa,
I have heard of the arrival of the youngest Malfoy, for that, I congratulate both you and Lucius. Lady Magic has gifted both of you yet another child,— I sincerely hope that she won’t grow to be a rambunctious toddler like you, my dear sister.
I must say, I am rather surprised. From what you told me, the little one was expected to be fashionably late, yet she has arrived precisely on time. How very proper of her—already living up to the Malfoy name, I suppose.
Unfortunately, I am preoccupied at the moment, but I promise to visit as soon as I can. I must admit, I am impatient to meet her. Tell me, what is she like? Does she favor Lucius in appearance, or does she carry the softer Black features we once shared? I imagine Draco must be beside himself with excitement. Is he proving to be a doting older brother, or has he realized that babies are not as interesting as he first thought?
And of course, I must ask—what have you named her? I can only assume it’s something grand and dignified, though I wouldn’t be opposed to being surprised. I expect a full account when you write back.
More importantly, how are you? I know you, ‘Cissa—you are undoubtedly trying to return to normal far too quickly. Let Lucius dote on you while he still has an excuse. He may play the part of the ever-composed aristocrat, but I suspect he is just as taken with the baby as he was with Draco.
Give my love to Draco and to the little one. I look forward to meeting her.
Yours truly,
Andromeda
(The Next Day)
Dear ‘Dromeda,
Your letter arrived this morning, and I must say, I was quite amused by your surprise. Yes, the little one was meant to take her time, but it seems she had other plans. Punctuality—how very un-Black of her. Perhaps she takes after Lucius more than I first thought.
I could answer all your questions now, but where would be the fun in that? You will simply have to visit and see for yourself. Though I will say, you were right about Draco—he is absolutely enchanted with his baby sister. He insists on spending as much time as possible near her, watching over her with all the seriousness a four-year-old can muster. I do believe he considers it his sworn duty to ensure she is properly introduced to the world. It’s rather endearing, really.
As for her name… well, that too is something you will have to discover in person. I will not give everything away in a letter, ‘Dromeda mainly because I look forward to seeing your reaction.
I am holding you to your promise to visit soon. Do not keep me waiting too long.
With love,
Narcissa
The grand entrance hall of Malfoy Manor was as pristine and imposing as Andromeda remembered. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the marble floors, but despite the house’s grandeur, the air carried an unexpected warmth—perhaps because of the occasion.
Beside her, Nymphadora shifted excitedly, her hands clasped behind her back as she took in the lavish surroundings. “Wicked,” she murmured, her eyes wide with fascination.
Andromeda sighed. “Dora, do not touch anything.”
Before her daughter could reply, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall. A moment later, Narcissa appeared, looking radiant despite what must have been weeks of sleepless nights. She moved with practiced grace, but there was something softer about her now, something more at ease.
Andromeda barely had time to open her mouth before her sister enveloped her in a warm embrace.
“You came,” Narcissa murmured.
“Of course I did,” Andromeda said, squeezing her tightly before pulling back. “It’s about time I met the newest Malfoy.”
At that moment, another presence made itself known. A small blond boy peeked out from behind Narcissa’s skirts, his pale blue eyes staring curiously at Nymphadora.
Andromeda arched an eyebrow. “And this must be young Draco.”
Draco straightened, as if realizing he was being addressed. He studied the unfamiliar girl in front of him, his little brow furrowing slightly. “Who’s she?”
Nymphadora grinned. “I’m Nymphadora,” she said proudly.
Draco blinked. “That’s a long name.”
“Yeah, I know,” Nymphadora said with a dramatic sigh. “Mum picked it. I prefer ‘Tonks,’ though.”
Draco wrinkled his nose. “Tonks? That doesn’t sound like a proper name.”
Andromeda opened her mouth to gently intervene, but before she could, Nymphadora grinned mischievously. “Well, Draco sounds like a really serious name. Do you ever have any fun?”
Draco crossed his arms. “I do have fun. Do you have any fun?” He throws back the question.
Nymphadora’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Do you know who you’re talking to?”
The boy responds by puffing his chest and raising his chin. “Mindafora Tonks.”
The sheer confidence of Draco mispronouncing her name made Nymphadora cackle, leaving the boy confused.
“I said it right, didn’t I?” He asks with a pout.
“No you didn’t,” She replied honestly. “But you’ll get there. Say, what’s your favorite color, Draco?”
“GREEN!!!” The boy shouts without hesitation.
“Ooh what’s that there?” She points to a nondescript part of the hall. Predictably, the boy turns around to where she was pointing after muttering a “Where?”
In the blink of an eye, Nymphadora’s jet black hair turns into a shiny, forest green hair with sage highlights.
“What were you pointing to, I didn’t see—” Draco turns around and immediately notices, mouth agape. “HOW DID YOU DO THAT?!?!”
And just like that, the tension dissolved. Within moments, the two children were chattering away, demanding her to change her hair Again! Again! Again! With the brightest smile on his face until he leads Nymphadora to show her something “very important” (which, from the way he was whispering, likely involved sneaking past a house-elf or playing with a toy he wasn’t supposed to).
Narcissa watched them with amusement. “Well. That was easier than I expected.”
Andromeda smirked. “Dora has that effect on people.”
Narcissa gestured for her to follow. “Come,” she said. “There’s someone else who wants to meet you.”
They made their way through the manor until they reached a quiet sitting room bathed in warm afternoon light. There, nestled in the bassinet, was a tiny bundle of soft blankets and pale blond wisps of hair.
Narcissa approached first, leaning over to gently scoop up the baby. She turned back toward Andromeda, showing Andromeda her niece.
Andromeda could honestly say that the baby just looks like a blonde baby Narcissa. She has plump rosy cheeks, beautifully contrasting with her pale skin, and she has her mother’s pale blue eyes.
A spitting image of Narcissa if she was born blonde, but Andromeda’s train of thought was halted upon hearing the baby’s name.
“Andromeda, I’d like you to meet Andromeda.”
For the first time in decades, Andromeda Tonks nee Black felt her composure slip entirely.
She stared at her sister, then at the baby, then back at Narcissa. Her breath caught in her throat.
“You…” Her voice was barely a whisper. “You named her after me?”
Narcissa held her daughter close, something unreadable—something vulnerable—in her expression. “Yes.”
Andromeda felt a rush of emotions so overwhelming she had to sit down. She had not expected this. She had not dared to expect this.
She looked down at the baby, her namesake, and reached out with a trembling hand.
“She’s beautiful,” she finally managed, her voice thick with emotion.
Narcissa exhaled, something soft and relieved in her gaze. “She is.”
For the next few minutes, there was nothing but quiet conversation, hushed laughter, and a shared understanding that, despite everything, they were here. Together.
Andromeda eventually glanced out the window, where Draco and Nymphadora were now engaged in what appeared to be a dramatic reenactment of some grand imaginary adventure, Nymphadora playing 90% of the characters by changing different features. Every change makes Draco’s laugh more hysterical than the one that came before.
She chuckled. “I think our children will get along just fine.”
Narcissa smirked. “A miracle, truly.”
Andromeda sighed, leaning back in her chair, her heart lighter than it had been in years.
For the first time in a long time, she felt home.
1 year later (Malfoy Manor, 1985)
The sitting room was quiet, save for the soft crackling of the fireplace and the occasional flipping of a page as Narcissa read. Nearby, Draco sat cross-legged on the carpet, stacking a tower of enchanted wooden blocks that hovered slightly above the ground.
Andromeda, just over a year old now, sat a short distance away, watching her brother with fascination. She had been crawling for months, but to Narcissa’s knowledge, she had yet to attempt her first steps.
Andromeda began crawling to her brother, as if curious to know what he was up to. Then, with all the determination befitting a Malfoy, the little girl suddenly pushed herself up onto wobbly legs. She swayed, her chubby fingers outstretched as she tried to balance.
Draco noticed first. “Mummy! Look!”
Narcissa glanced up just as Andromeda took a tentative step forward, her tiny foot landing unsteadily before she quickly tried again.
Her heart swelled. “Oh, my darling girl.”
Andromeda grinned toothlessly, clearly pleased with herself. Then, emboldened by her success, she took another step—only to stumble forward, right into Draco’s arms.
Draco caught her with wide eyes, then looked up at Narcissa with the most serious expression a five-year-old could muster. “She’s my responsibility now.”
Narcissa let out a quiet laugh. “Of course she is, love.”
(Malfoy Manor, 1986)
Lucius had been reading his morning paper when a tiny voice called out from the other side of the dining table.
“Papa.”
The paper nearly slipped from his hands.
Slowly, he lowered it, glancing toward the source of the voice. Andromeda, now two years old, sat in her high chair, looking up at him expectantly.
Lucius blinked. “What did you say, little one?”
She giggled. “Papa.”
Narcissa, seated beside her, smirked. “You must be quite pleased,” she murmured, though amusement laced her tone. “Draco’s first word was Mummy, after all.”
Lucius, who had spent months ensuring Draco's first word would be Father, only to lose to Narcissa, now looked entirely triumphant. “We’re even now, my love.”
He set his paper aside and reached out to carry Andromeda in his arms. “That’s right, sweet girl,” he cooed, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “Papa.” He repeats, lengthening the first vowel as he peppers kisses on her little face.
Andromeda giggled, as if sensing she had done something wonderful.
Draco, sitting across from them, scowled slightly. “She always gets special treatment,” he muttered.
Lucius smirked. “She is the youngest.”
Draco huffed but didn’t argue—because later that day, when he thought no one was looking, he proudly tried to teach his sister to say Draco next.
(Malfoy Manor, 1989)
If Narcissa had any doubts that Andromeda was Lucius’s daughter, they were gone by the time she turned six.
Her poise was impeccable for a child so young. She sat straight-backed at the dining table, observed everything with sharp eyes, and already had a way of making the house-elves scramble with a single unimpressed look.
But most amusing of all—she had inherited Lucius’s dry, unimpressed mannerisms perfectly.
One evening, the family sat together in the drawing room when Draco, now ten, dramatically recounted a tale of how Pansy Parkinson had absolutely ruined a game of Exploding Snap at the Manor earlier that day.
“…and then, she knocked over the whole deck, and it exploded in my face,” Draco huffed. “Utterly ridiculous.”
Andromeda, curled up beside him, delicately took a sip of her tea before responding with a perfectly bored, “Sounds dreadful.”
Lucius nearly choked on his drink.
Draco, however, looked at her in admiration. “Exactly,” he said approvingly. “You understand.”
Narcissa, watching the exchange, pressed a hand to her lips to hide her smirk.
She had a feeling Andromeda Malfoy was going to grow up to be quite the force to be reckoned with.
(Malfoy Manor, 1990)
Despite the three-year age gap, Draco and Andromeda were thick as thieves.
Where Draco went, Andromeda followed. She trailed after him in the gardens, sat beside him in the library as he studied, and watched in awe whenever he practiced on his toy broomstick.
One day, Draco—now eleven—was preparing for his first year at Hogwarts. His trunk was packed, his wand carefully stored, and his robes neatly folded.
Andromeda sat on his bed, her chin resting on her knees.
“You’ll be back for Yule, right?” she asked quietly.
Draco, who had been adjusting his broomstick, looked over. His usually smug expression softened. “Of course, Meda,” he said.
“And for Eastertide...?”
“Mhm,”
“And also for summer, right?”
Draco chuckles at his little sister’s worries, “Definitely, Meda, but don’t worry, time will pass very quickly! It’s just a few months.” He ruffles his little sister’s wavy hair.
She frowned. “But what if you forget me?”
Draco scoffed as if the idea was absurd. “Forget you? Impossible.” He smirked, ruffling her hair. “I’ll write. All the time.”
Andromeda perked up slightly, even after the slight annoyance of having her hair messed up. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
And, to her delight, he did.
(Malfoy Manor, 1995)
It had been a long-anticipated morning.
Andromeda sat at the breakfast table, trying to feign nonchalance as the owls arrived. Draco, now sixteen and home for the summer, watched in amusement as his sister pretended not to glance at the window every few seconds.
Then—finally—an owl swooped in, dropping a cream-colored envelope onto Andromeda’s lap.
She stared at it for half a second before snatching it up, fingers trembling with excitement as she broke the seal.
Narcissa smiled fondly as she watched her daughter’s eyes race over the parchment.
Lucius, seated at the head of the table, sipped his tea. “Well?” he prompted.
Andromeda beamed. “I got in.”
Draco grinned. “Of course, you did, Meda.” He leaned over, ruffling her hair—much to her protest. He seems to do that quite often. “Hogwarts isn’t ready for you.”
Narcissa reached out, smoothing down Andromeda’s curls. “Congratulations, darling.”
Lucius set down his cup and gave her an approving nod. “You will do well.”
Andromeda sat back in her chair, holding the letter against her chest, a victorious smile playing on her lips. She was finally going to Hogwarts, and she couldn’t wait.
A new year at Hogwarts was on the horizon—and for the first time, both Malfoy children were going.