The Reunion
In the following months — once she and Draco are off the scrutiny, and Lucius is in Azkaban, but they have gotten rid of the dementors for the best, so it is some relief — Narcissa Malfoy seeks her sister out. Rather, she shows up on Andromeda’s door on a Friday evening.
Andromeda lives in a muggle neighborhood, so Narcissa apparates on an abandoned street that looks like it should reek of alcohol and piss, but surprisingly doesn't. It is late October, the wind is a little chilly, and the muggle neighborhood is decorated in orange — a precursor to Halloween.
Leaning against a wall in the darkness, Narcissa wonders what Halloween means for the muggles. You know, since they cannot see ghosts and do not believe in witches. It is one of the things she wants to learn but later — after her clammy hands can light up this damned cigarette without shaking.
Oh, how badly she needs the nicotine to relieve her of the nerves that shoot through the sky every time she thinks of talking to Andromeda, of making an attempt to reconnect with her stranded sister.
Out of the three of them, Andromeda had been the most beautiful, and the most dutiful. When Bella was feral and clumsy, and Narcissa too young and timid for pureblood society, Andromeda had been what their mother always envisioned her daughter to be — graceful, witty, compliant. Maybe that is why Druella took it the hardest, it being Andromeda’s “betrayal”. And Bella was so far gone in her fury, it came down to Narcissa to be everything her sister had been — only the desirable parts, of course.
So she held up her head high and embodied the grace and arrogance of nobility into her very being, — and thankfully, her heart never betrayed her like Andromeda's did — and it became years from months to decades since she last saw her sister. Longer since she shared a kind word with her, and most of it, she regrets, was her own doing, her own choice.
And Narcissa regrets, regrets and regrets, until she cannot anymore, and like any self-respecting Slytherin, is moved to do something about it. Her cigarette finally lights after maybe a hundred failed flicks of the lighter — she forgot she has magic, wandless even — but her legs do not move. They cannot move, and her head is heavy on her shoulders, too heavy, and the smoke is choking her breath out—
“Mrs. Malfoy?”
Narcissa flinches so violently, her cigarette almost slips from her fingers. The voice that catches her off guard belongs to a young witch with honey-brown eyes and fire on her tongue.
“Ms. Granger,” Narcissa clears her throat and manages.
Hermione tilts her head so slightly with a small smile to her face, her eyes inquisitive and bright. There is a soft orange afterglow to her face, as the light of the decorations falls on her. This is the last thing Narcissa needs, for Hermione to see her vulnerable and trembling — yet again.
“Wow, I…” Hermione starts and Narcissa can tell the younger witch’s eyes are searching for an explanation for her presence. “What are you doing here?” She asks anyway, and Narcissa scoffs in her head.
Gryffindors.
She takes a drag to allow herself to consider lying to Hermione Granger or telling her the truth. Narcissa quickly decides for the latter, no harm can come of it. Right?
“I'm planning to meet Drommie… Andromeda.”
A look of realization crosses Hermione's face. “And what of you? What are you doing here?” Narcissa asks, not wanting to appear more vulnerable than she already is.
“I'm here to drop Teddy off. He, uh, I babysit him once every week, since I have time on my hands and Andy is alone up there most of the time,” the younger witch replies. She speaks with her hands, Narcissa notes.
"That's nice of you."
After another drag in silence and eyes that cannot seem to take their curiosity concealed, Hermione speaks again.
“How long?”
“Pardon?”
“How long since you've talked?” Hermione gestures towards Andromeda's house with her shoulders.
“Some twenty years,” Narcissa states. That's a lot.
“Good Godric, that's a lot.” Hermione says as much.
Narcissa simply nods her head and they fall into silence. And it's only a bit awkward until Hermione breaks it again.
“Well, I wish you luck,” a reassuring smile is sent Narcissa's way. “I don't think you'll have as hard a time with Andy as you think you will.”
With that, the young witch walks away from her, stilettos clucking against the gravel of the street. And she watches her go, Hermione in her checkered pants that makes Narcissa appreciate her taste and the long black coat which could almost make for a cloak. And Narcissa realizes her anxiety is gone, her nerves settled.
“It wasn't a risk, you know,” she finds herself saying, earning a halt from the younger witch somewhere in the middle of muggle London.
“You and Mr. Potter painted me a hero there, and while it was a risk with him, it was not with you. Bella could never have known I was there, shielding. It wasn't a risk like lying to Him was. I just wanted you to know.”
She watches Hermione turn and search her face, almost a bit quizzically. But her shoulders do tense up at the mention. Her hands now rest stable in her coat pockets.
“I already know, Mrs. Malfoy,” she pauses, and continues. “But it was a kindness where I was least expecting it. So it was worth saying something about.”
Now, Narcissa knocks the door to Andromeda's place. A childish shyness overcomes her as the door flings open. If the look on her sister’s face is any indication, she would get pushed off the porch any second now.
“Andromeda, I—”
But she is pulled into a hug, a bone-crushing hug. A hug that knocks the wind out of her lungs, makes her wonder if this is Drommie's attempt at murdering her.
“Merlin's beard Cissy! You smell like an ashtray. Mother would die a second time.”
Her eyes are stinging and wet but Narcissa Malfoy still laughs in her sister's arms.