That day, again, the paper had covered the trials in detail. And as usual, there was Lucius, giving evidence against his former friends, proving his innocence in the War. They didn't have a choice, he says. They had changed sides in the last moment, he says. And of course, there was Harry, confirming it, redeeming him and his family. They will have a fresh start at life, again. Untouched and whole.
She put the paper down, feeling something within her - rage, pain, fear?
The infant was crying, again. The baby was crying. Abandoning the various emotions stirring in her, she walked over to the crib, only to find him awake. The child looked back at her with trusting eyes.

"I'm not leaving you, kiddo. Nobody's gonna leave you again, I promise." Her voice seemed to have a calming effect on him. He giggled.
I would hate for you to grow up, she thought.
Smiling inside, she leaned over to plant a kiss on the child, but he, having other ideas, grabbed a fist-ful of her loose strands of hair. "Easy," she said, gently trying to tug her hair back. "You keep pulling like that, I may not have any left."
He giggled again. That sweet, innocent laugh that tugged at your heart.
He was her world, now. She would be his world, now.
"You have her face, kiddo, your mother's," she spoke. He seemed to be listening, intently, eyes wide. She spoke often to the child. It was as much for her as it was for him. "And your eyes are like your father's. Kind, and brown."
He released his hold on her hair, as though immersed in her tale.
"That's right. They were young and brave and they made sure you could live in a young, brave world."
He reached for her hair, again, but this time she was ready. She stepped back, laughing.
"I'd better get us something to eat. I'm not giving you my hair, kiddo."
She kept talking as she came to the kitchen, letting him listen to her voice, and know she was around.
Just as she was able to open the cook book, for she was a terrible cook, she heard the wards go off.
Like a battle ready warrior, she drew her wand, cast a spell around the crib, and then walked over to the living room. She muttered a spell and the door flew open. She froze.

"You!"

The groves were rich and ripe as the blonde walked through it. Walking helped clear her mind. It gave her a short respite. And besides, it was the only way she could reach.
She had been dreading this day for a week. The War was over, but there was still a quiet battle going on within her. She had survived, along with her husband and son. They were given a second chance. They could start over. And her mission today was to be only a part of that process. She had been dreading this day for a week, but she had been preparing for it, for years.
She trudged along, feeling the quiet pressure of the soft ground beneath her sandals. A year ago, she wasn't sure she would ever walk or talk again. A month ago, she wasn't sure she would ever see her son, again. They were survivors. They would always survive. Even if it was barely.
She had reached a bend in the road, and knew to take a left turn. She hadn't come here often, and in her absence, the roses and the lilies and the jasmines seemed to have flourished.
Ironic, that.
As she came nearer, she could finally see the cosy house, with it's cosy chimneys and the cosy yard in the front. It looked like life. She reached over to the door and knocked.

A few moments passed, and then the door flew open. A woman, slightly older than the blonde, was standing in the doorway, with her wand out, and wearing a scowl.
They stared at each other for several seconds. The woman said nothing and did not lower her wand. The blonde could feel something powerful like hate radiate from her, and she watched as her face slowly conformed to the hate she possessed, and her mouth slowly formed words.

"You!" she finally said. "You!" She lowered her wand. "You dare!" She hissed, and the blonde almost cringed.
"'Dromeda, I just want to talk."
"You lost the right. You lost it more than twenty years ago, Narcissa," Andromeda said, her voice rising.
Now Narcissa did cringe. No-one called her Narcissa, not even, not even-
"I'm here to make up for that. Please, just let me in."
Andromeda glared at her, but then stepped aside. Narcissa walked in and quickly helped herself to the wide sofa. Andromeda followed her into the room and sat facing her.
"Why didn't you get Azkaban?" Andromeda asked, her voice cold. "You and that loser of a husband."
Narcissa would normally jump to defend her family. But Lucius was not her only family. A late sentiment.
That was ironic, too.
"They acquitted us," Narcissa said. "Harry gave a convincing testimony and-"
"Harry! " Andromeda cut her across, not wishing to listen to anymore excuses. "Trust him to be noble, after all that has happened."
"Yes." Narcissa decided to build on that. "He is the reason we got off lightly."
"Do you feel like you deserve it? A second chance?"
Narcissa met her gaze. "Of course, I do. Everyone does."
Andromeda snorted.
"After all you've done-"
"We have done nothing wrong," Narcissa said. "We have done only what The Dark Lord had required us to do."
"Yes, it's amazing how you always manage to escape justice."
"We have suffered, too. It wasn't easy, 'Meda."
"Didn't lose anyone, though, did you?"

Narcissa looked into her hands which had been clutching at her robes. She could feel her sister's gaze on her. "We lost our peace of mind. Every day that The Dark Lord spent in our manor...we never felt safe..." The memory of the terrible things that unfolded before her eyes, the murder, it was all threatening to over-whelm her. "And Draco, our son...we didn't know if he was alive, until the very end."

Andromeda looked away. Their son had survived. Their child lived to see another day. How the world was unfair. She could feel her anger rising, burning right beneath her skin.
"He got away, though. Where's he?" she asked, unfeeling. "That brave son of yours who has survived a war."
"He's at the manor. He still feels...ill."
"Yes, war does that to you." Andromeda turned back to her. "Death does that to you."

A beat. Narcissa replied, warily, "I'm sorry about -"
"Don't speak her name," Andromeda said, her eyes blazing. "Don't you dare speak their names."
"We had nothing to do with it," Narcissa pleaded. "You must understand that-"

"You had nothing to do with it? You let her live with you-"

"It wasn't like that. We never wanted a part in all this. We didn't have a choice."
"Choice? Choice? There's always a choice, Cissy. Bella didn't just kill Ny-Dora. My daughter chose to die. For the likes of you. You were with that bitch who killed my daughter. And now, you come here and you want to make amends?"

Narcissa edged closer. ""Dromeda, We can start over. Please. You're my only family."

Andromeda had to smirk at that."You're wrong," she said. "Teddy is my family, now. And so are the Potters and the Weasleys. I'm not so sure about you."
"Meda, we're sisters... We're blood..."
"Bella was blood. She was my sister, too. And I'm really glad Molly Weasley finished her off," Andromeda said, coolly. "If she hadn't, I would have done it myself, that bitch from hell."

"Bella was..." Narcissa still couldn't hate Bella, because the Bellatrix that Andromeda had known was not the one that she had known. "She was crazy. Crazed, by power and by V-Voldemort."

"Like you were?" Andromeda asked. She regarded the woman in front of her, who had been a stranger to her for many years. Sister. She tasted the word. Sister. Did that word mean anything to her anymore? Sister.

"Lucius and I were helpless. The Dark Lord would have killed us, if we had defected. Or run."

"Trust you to choose the winning side in the end," Andromeda said, drily.

Narcissa looked away. Did they deserve it - a second chance? If it meant safety for her son, perhaps, they did. She wondered vaguely where the child was. She had a feeling that her sister would never voluntarily allow her to see him. Sister. The term had seemed strange for so long.

However, she could not contain her curiosity.

"Where is he?"

Andromeda regarded her coolly for a moment. "Never you mind."

Silence. Narcissa let her eyes wander. The living room was decorated with pictures of her niece. In each picture, she had a different hair colour. She was capable of that. She had also been a capable auror.

"Tell me how she died." Andromeda said, after a while.

Narcissa knew whom she meant. In certain ways, Andromeda was like Bellatrix. So similar, and yet, so different. The irony of the Black sisters. The tragedy of the Black sisters.
"She was fighting Ginny Weasley," she said. She recalled how Bellatrix had been fighting three people at once. "She had already killed Fred, Ginny's brother." Narcissa remembered the way Bellatrix had laughed, just before she was killed. Did she deserve it? "Molly was furious. She came running and-"

"Good," Andromeda said softly. She closed her eyes and leaned back.

Bellatrix had been cruel to Andromeda since the day she had married the muggle, Narcissa remembered. She, herself, had been young and told never to contact her again. That was the extent of her relationship with Andromeda. But Bellatrix, she remembered differently.

"Do you really mean that?" she asked.

Andromeda's eyes flew open. "Of course. Our sister was a murderer. She killed my daughter. Of course, I mean that."

TO BE CONTINUED -