Disclaimer: Harry Potter STILL isn't mine.
She looks so young when she's asleep, so innocent. She's beautiful; I see Andromeda's kind face in hers. My niece.
It's the first time I've been able to call her that to myself. For years I forced myself to think of her (when I ever did) as "the half-breed brat" or something similar. By naming her, I would have been admitting to myself that I loved her. I couldn't love Andromeda's daughter, not when I'd lost my sister to the Mud—HIM. Even now I can't help but hate him. Because of him, the Power of Three was destroyed. Because of him, Bella broke. Because of him, I lost both my sisters, one to death and shadow and one to a darkness that I now see was really light.
I force myself to push those thoughts away, instead rising and moving to stand by Nymphadora. I vocally call her by her last name because I saw the way she growled at Meda when Meda didn't. The fire in her eyes hurt too much because it was Bella's fire, Meda's fire, a flame I never did and never will have. They always were the spirited ones.
I bend down and very gently brush my fingers across her cheek. She mumbles something about Quidditch and keeps sleeping, obviously not woken easily. Like a true Black. I can't quite hold back a smile; I've known her for only a few days and already I love her. She's so much like Meda…
"You could have a group of giants in here and she wouldn't wake up." Andromeda is standing in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen smiling softly. "Not exactly reassuring for someone who's supposedly standing guard."
"She's beautiful, Meda. I can see why you're proud of her." The words come without my volition, but it's perhaps the first entirely true thing I've said for years. I stop, shocked at myself.
My sister stares at me, and then she grins. My heart leaps and twists at the same time; I've missed her smile dearly, but at the same time I see Bella's reckless smirk. "I've missed you, Cissy." It's the first time she's called me by my old nickname.
I want so badly to tell her I missed her, too; to say that now we've found each other again, I don't ever want to lose her. But I can't. Eventually Lucius will be broken out of Azkaban and the Dark Lord will bring Draco back. Once that happens, I'll need to leave. It's killing me not being with my husband, not knowing with every passing second if my son is alive or dead. Growing close to Andromeda now, however much I may want to, is a foolish mistake. So instead I swallow what I really want to tell her and nod politely, slipping on the high-society mask that is now so familiar that sometimes I cannot take it off. "It's been nice to see you as well."
The hurt in her face kills me, but for both our sakes—and perhaps Nymphadora's too—I cannot allow Andromeda to get close to me.