Beta read by a-really-angry-sorceress; all rights to the Harry Potter universe belong to JK Rowling
Andromeda remembered being offended when her parents announced they were having another baby. She had only been four then, sitting on the rug in the living room next to Bellatrix, who went by Trixie then, but would viciously deny it in later years. Her mother's eyes were shining in a happy sort of way, as she crouched down to the pair of them.
Was it, she thought, that she hadn't been an adequate enough youngest sibling? She certainly could see her parents wanting to try for another child after Trixie, but she had managed to make it four years without having to be replaced, (compared to Trixie's mere one) and she wasn't entirely sure where she'd gone wrong. Her parents hadn't noticed her vaguely hurt expression, however, since Trixie had thrown her toy down on the ground pointedly upon being informed, and said that having one younger sibling was bad enough, and surely they weren't going to make her deal with another.
"Get a good lawyer, and un-sign whatever you signed to get a baby," Trixie said, not understanding truly how babies worked, but relatively sure that a good enough lawyer could solve any problem if one paid them enough. "And while you're at it, un-sign for Meda, too. You only really need one daughter."
"Don't un-sign for me!" Andromeda said, crossing her arms over her chest. "I don't want to be un-signed for."
"We're not un-signing for any baby," her mother said, slightly scolding. She didn't bother to correct their assumptions as to signing and babies - that would be a conversation for much later. "Bellatrix, apologize to your sister. That was uncalled for."
"To Meda, or to the other one?" Trixie said flatly, making no movements to apologize to either.
"When will the baby show up?" Andromeda asked, figuring they weren't going to get an apology from Trixie any time soon, and that it was much easier to change the subject.
"Not for a while," her mother said, "Are you excited to be a big sister?"
"Yes," Andromeda lied. Bellatrix was her big sister, after all, and she didn't really want to be put in the same category. She'd be a better big sister, she decided. The very best one ever.
"I'll miss you," Narcissa said quietly, looking to her older sister. "Please don't change."
Andromeda paused in her packing. Her mother had insisted she have the house elves pack for her, but Andromeda had wanted to hide a bag of sweets somewhere in her trunk, which had resulted in her having to repack the whole thing. But it would be well worth it, she thought. Bellatrix had brought sweets the year before, after all, and in her letter to Andromeda, had insisted that having things that other people wanted would almost definitely earn her a few friends, or at least enough conversation to begin a friendship upon. If it could help Bella make friends, it could help anyone.
"Change?" she asked.
"Bella changed," Narcissa said simply. "She used to be nicer."
"No she didn't," Andromeda said, slamming the lid closed, only to have it pop open again due to the fact that Andromeda was, in the nicest way possible, a truly atrocious packer. "She just used to not have a wand. And I won't change."
"Promise," Narcissa said, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Promise."
"Do you swear on the Name of Black?" Cissy said, not sounding entirely convinced.
"Is my word not enough?"
Narcissa looked down at her hands then, blond hair slipping in front of her eyes.
"Bella never responds when I write to her. I want you to promise to write back."
"I'll write back, Cissy," Andromeda said, closing her trunk with one final shove that required her bouncing up on her toes to use the force of her body weight to get it shut. The lock clicked to indicate a full seal and she sighed in relief. "And I'll have all sorts of stories to tell. I'll go to Quidditch games, and fight the giant squid - my letters will be like an adventure series."
Cissy giggled then. "I don't think you have to fight the giant squid."
"Well, how else do they find the students powerful enough for Slytherin, do you think?"
Narcissa didn't respond, but instead walked forwards, hugging her sister tightly. Andromeda had never been one for close physical contact, perhaps conditioned by Bella's hugs when they were little that would be more aptly described as attempts at strangulation, but Narcissa was even less of a hugger than her. She hugged little sister back tightly. Being eleven was a tough burden to bear, Andromeda thought, and having to be the role model for little seven year olds.
"I swear on the Name of Black to always look out for you, okay?"
"Black, Narcissa," the professor read, and Andromeda instantly waved a hand to silence the classmates around her. Bellatrix was sitting across the table, next to Rodolphus Lestrange, not truly paying much attention to the sorting. She glanced up to the front, where a nervous blonde girl was walking forwards to sit on the stool.
"I don't know why they still bother sorting us. I was a Slytherin. Andromeda was a Slytherin. Narcissa will be a Slytherin and so will Sirius and Regulus," Bella blew a lock of hair away from her face, and sighed to the boy next to her. "We just sort of are. No Black has been sorted anywhere other than Slytherin for centuries."
"Shh," Andromeda hissed, pressing a single finger to her lips and leaning forwards. They were too far away to catch the conversation, but Andromeda noticed Narcissa moving to cross her arms stubbornly over her chest. Whatever the hat was telling her, she did not appreciate it.
"If you insist," Andromeda could have sworn she heard the hat say. "Slytherin!"
"Told you," Bellatrix said boredly as her youngest sister slid off the stood, arms uncrossed and her face all smiles. She walked quickly over to where Andromeda was sitting, seeming to struggle to walk in a dignified fashion, and accidentally skipped a couple of times as she made her way over.
"Congratulations Cissy," Andromeda said, sliding over to make room for her sister.
"Thank you!" she chirped. A second year boy across the table glanced over at Narcissa and nodded to her politely. Narcissa noticed and nodded back in the same fashion, straightening herself and trying to appear dignified in such an over-exaggerated fashion that it was all Andromeda could do to hide her smirk. Andromeda glanced across the hall absently, her eyes, completely free of her own free will, coming to rest on Ted Tonks, a Hufflepuff in her year. He made eye contact, and she blushed away from it slightly, but he grinned so cheekily she couldn't help but keep starting. He shot her a thumbs up, which, she believed, was some sort of Muggle sign of congratulations, then gestured to her right. Andromeda glanced over to Cissy and realized he was congratulating her on having her sister join her. Unsure of how to respond, she ducked to look down at the table again, and she could swear she heard his good natured laugh from across the Great Hall.
She was just reaching her fourth year, after all, and Merlin knew what boys her age were thinking - or if they were thinking at all. Besides, he was a Muggleborn. That simply wouldn't do. Narcissa was looking at her curiously, but when Andromeda asked her about her ride to school, and the friends she'd made - that sweets trick had proved successful three sisters and counting - she seemed to have forgotten the incident altogether.
Andromeda sat on her bed, leaning against the headboard, despite how the engravings on it felt uncomfortable against her back. Her novel was interesting enough, but not so much that it kept her mind from wandering. She was sixteen then, and her mind was consumed with several things at one, chief of which being a certain boy. She hated that. She was an intelligent young woman, who did not require anyone to support her. Much too clever, she thought, to lose her heart and fantasize about a boy like some sort of lovesick teenager. Especially for some Muggleborn Hufflepuff. Her parents wouldn't approve. She didn't approve, in fact, of the feelings clenching in her gut. Even if he had come to talk to her during a Slytherin vs. Gryffindor Quidditch match, when the majority of his house was decked in red and gold. And he'd offered her some of his strange Muggle chocolates which melted in the heat because they didn't have anti-melting charms on them. And for some reason, despite being messy, had tasted better than anything else she'd ever eaten as he talked to her, completely ignoring the match. And the strange looks he was getting from her fellow Slytherins. And even how she'd tried to pretend she wasn't paying attention to a word he said.
"Meda?" she heard a soft knock at the door. She looked up for a second, momentarily panicked that her little sister had somehow read the thoughts on her face. This panic was replaced almost instantly, however, with concern. Cissy's eyes were shining with the reflection of unshed tears, and she looked even paler than she normally did.
"Cissy," Andromeda said, sitting her book down beside her and sliding off the bed. "What's the matter?"
"Bella is going to kill me," Cissy said in a very small voice.
"She's not going to kill you," Andromeda said, though she wasn't entirely sure that this was true.
"Yes she will."
"Why would she kill you?" Andromeda asked, deciding that approaching the actual issue would be a much more efficient way of solving the problem than debating the vindictive lengths their sister would go to.
"Because of Denebola."
Andromeda swallowed. Bella might actually kill Cissy, then. Denebola, thus named following the trend in the family to be named after constellations, was Bellatrix's pet tarantula, a gift from her boyfriend Rodolphus. He was much larger than Andromeda thought spiders ought to be, and had a nasty habit of getting out of his terrarium and crawling into the rooms of Bella's sisters, a behavior which his owner did nothing to discourage.
"What happened to Denebola?"
"I-I," Narcissa looked ready to cry. "I was waiting for a letter. And I thought I'd check Bella and your mail, because sometimes Modestus gives your letters to Bella and visa versa, and I thought maybe he mixed up one of mine as well."
Modestus only mixed up Bella and Andromeda once, and that was because the two looked rather similar - and vastly different from Narcissa. Her searching had likely been done out of idleness and far-stretched hope than actual thought, Andromeda considered, but she motioned for her sister to go on.
"So, I - I went into Bella's room and-"
Andromeda inhaled sharply. Bella was not the kind of person to take such an intrusion lightly.
"I know," Cissy said, "And I went to the window to look and he - he just sort of crawled onto me and I screamed and flipped him out the open window and-" she sank to her knees, shaking. "Bella is going to kill me because I can't find him."
"Oh Cissy," Andromeda said quietly. "It'll be okay. We'll just, um," she considered for a moment. "The window was open, you said? Before you got there?"
"Yes," Narcissa said slowly, as if unsure as to whether she followed her sister's line of thought.
"Then he saw a bird and snuck out on his own. Teach Bella to leave it open like that."
"Do tarantulas eat birds?"
"I think I've seen Denebola eating at rabbit before," Andromeda waved her hand lightly. "That creature would eat a baby if it could get close enough."
Narcissa giggled then, and while she hadn't returned to her normal color, she looked quite relieved. Andromeda motioned to the bed, and sliding the door behind her, she hopped back onto it, though she didn't open her book, and patted the covers next to her.
"I'm more concerned as to what letter you are expecting."
"Lucius Malfoy," Narcissa said quietly, "may be writing to me." She looked up with such a shy smile, Andromeda thought perhaps she wasn't the only exceedingly clever, albeit a touch lovesick girl in this household.
"Cissy," she began.
"If we ever get married," she began, and Andromeda nearly buried her face in her hands. As adorable as Narcissa's crush on her schoolmate was, Lucius Malfoy was a full year older than Cissy, not to mention, well, a Malfoy. "Will you be my maid of honor?"
That hadn't been what she expected. Andromeda tilted her head to the slide.
"Your Maid of Honor is supposed to be your best friend, Cissy."
"Exactly," Cissy said simply, then left the room before Andromeda could think to respond.
"Lucius says that Blood-traitors are worse than Mudbloods," Narcissa said coolly as they three sisters were sitting by the fire. Andromeda had a sketchbook open on her lap, but she hadn't drawn at all, she was simply staring at the page, which Narcissa found to a very useless activity. This statement, of course, was not unprompted. The three of them had been sent to this room as their parents attempted to console their aunt and uncle over their wayward son, Sirius, who for some reason had abandoned all sense to run away. To the Potters no less. For God's sake, Narcissa thought, the Potters weren't even on the sacred twenty eight.
"And how does Lucius figure that?" Bella said drily, her voice so cold, Narcissa paused, unsure as to whether it was a trick question or not. Normally, she looked to Meda for clarification on this sort of thing, but the middle sister hadn't looked up from the sketchbook.
"Lucius says that Muggle-borns can't really help that they naturally aren't as intelligent or good at magic. But Pure-bloods know better, so Blood traitors are fully aware of how wrong they are, and choose to be wrong anyways."
"I suppose so," Bellatrix shoved, "Which means it'll be worse for us when it gets out. Hopefully Rodolphus doesn't completely dump me over this."
"I don't think he will," Narcissa said, "I mean, it isn't as if he was our brother. He's only our cousin, after all. Regulus, however, might be in a bit of trouble."
"He'll get over it, I'm sure," Bella waved her hand airily. "Cissy-"
"Narcissa," Narcissa corrected absently, setting her needlepoint down on her lap. "Lucius says that 'Cissy' makes me sound like a child."
"Lucius says a great many things, I've noticed," Andromeda muttered under her breath. Narcissa stiffened, frowning slightly.
"Lucius says a great many clever things," she replied haughtily. "And Mummy and Daddy approve of him."
"Mummy and Daddy approve of the Malfoys, they've never actually met Lucius," Andromeda said, still not looking at Narcissa.
"Of course they approve of the Malfoys," Bellatrix said, her tone verging on snapping. "Everyone approves of the Malfoys. They're a very respectable family."
Narcissa smiled at Bella who nodded in response. But underneath her smile, Narcissa paused. This, she thought, was the first time it was Bellatrix defending her to Andromeda, and not the other way around.
She was packing again, for the last time this time. No sweets hidden away in her trunk. Andromeda stared at the bare room around her, and the overflowing beat-up trunk in front of her. It was Ted's sister's. She could see the stickers, long since worn away, of some muggle band, that had covered the sides. A gift from his family to her. She swallowed. Her boyfriend's family, no, her fiancé's family, didn't know a thing about what it meant to be a pureblood. But when she'd told them her family wouldn't let her marry their son, and she wouldn't let herself not, they'd offered her a place to stay.
"Andromeda," she turned around. Standing in the doorway was Narcissa, her cheeks flushed red with a mixture of anger and mortification. Her sister, Andromeda realized, was ashamed to be talking to her. "Why?"
"I love him, Cissy," she said, plucking her nightgown off her dresser and bundling it into an unattractive lump which she set in the suitcase. "I thought you of all people would understand that."
"Narcissa."
Andromeda sighed.
"And I get it, Meda. You rather like him. But throwing away your family and fortune - Meda it can't be worth it. He's only a Mudblood."
And with that, Narcissa's placating tone and soft words were completely refuted. Andromeda's gaze darkened.
"No, he's not," she said, her tone perfectly even. "Ted is kind, and compassionate and unashamed of who he is and what he hopes to become. He's witty and clever and can find a way to laugh in situations where the bravest person would cry. He's not 'only a Mudblood'. He's more than just his blood-type. Which is more than I can say for you."
Narcissa took a step back, her mouth gaping ever so slightly and her eyes almost comically wide. And yet Andromeda wasn't amused in the slightest. The blonde set her jaw closed, and turned to stalk back to her room without looking back, as if that would emotionally hurt her older sister. The thing was, it did.
Andromeda Tonks didn't put much stock in what the Daily Prophet wrote, ever since the article they wrote illustrating her marriage to Ted. Still, the article headline drew her attention. She was sitting comfortably in the kitchen of her house, a couple months old Nymphadora sitting on the high-chair by her, staring at the oatmeal in front of her with contempt.
"Nymphadora," Andromeda said, "Staring at your breakfast isn't going to make it go away."
The baby scowled. She could hear an undignified snort from behind her, and looked around.
"I still can't believe you named her Nymphadora," Ted said, the smile evident in his voice as he looked at his young wife and baby, the latter of which sporting bubblegum pink hair.
"It's a lovely name."
"She'll hate it when she'd older."
"She'll love it," Andromeda said, "Long names just take a bit of time to grow into."
"I'll call her Dora until then."
"Anyone important dead?" he asked, glancing at The Prophet. Andromeda hid a giggle.
"Don't Ted, it isn't decent. For all you know there could be."
"And I would be appropriately upset, but you laughed so I'm sure nothing too awful happened."
"No, not real-" she paused, lowering the paper to the table, the smile falling from her face in an instant.
"Oh my God," Ted said the smile dropping from his voice, "Someone didn't actually die, did they?"
She shook her head numbly, and slid the paper to her husband. He looked it, his hand moving to rest on her shoulder supportively. On the second page of the paper was a couple, the parents of whom would evidentially be much displeased that it wasn't on the very front page. The woman was in a traditional wedding dress, one which made her light up the page with a delicate sweetness that Andromeda had never managed, but would have retained it had she been in anything else (including her pajamas at six in the morning with the open-mouthed confusion of someone who had just awoken). The newlywed Narcissa Malfoy glowed on the page, and her sister hadn't even heard a word.
"You could talk to her," Ted said quietly. "I wouldn't be upset."
"I would be," Andromeda said, coolly. "And it wouldn't matter anyways, if I wanted to. It's too late."
"It's never too late for family, Dromeda."
Andromeda said nothing to that, and turned back to Nymphadora, who was scowling at the pair of them in that way babies did when they wished to indicate something that didn't require screaming. She wasn't pleased, it seemed, that her breakfast was not colorful or sweet.
"Nymphadora," she said, "Don't play with your food."
"Yeah," Ted said, as if he realized her hesitance to discuss the topic. "If you do," he said, bending down so he was at eye level with their baby. "The oatmeal monster will eat you." He held up two hands in mock-claws hissing at the baby, who voiced her lack of pleasure by splattering the remaining contents of her bowl onto his face. Andromeda snickered, and ducked behind the newspaper, ignoring the photo entirely in hopes to be spared the same fate. She wasn't sure who would come after her with more excitement - Dora or Ted.
"Mummy?"
Narcissa Malfoy glanced around, putting on her most patient face for her small child. He was standing in the corner of the sitting room, blond hair mis-parted, which she moved over to fuss over.
"How do you always manage to mess your hair up?" she said, more confused than flustered. Her son sighed loudly with his usual panache as she messed with his hair.
"Mummy," he repeated, as if to indicate that he did not appreciate being fussed over. Which was an outright lie, as the majority of things Draco did were to gain the result of being fussed over. Still, she nodded, hoping to satisfy his curiosity on whatever it was he wanted to know about. "What's a blood-traitor?"
And suddenly, Narcissa couldn't manage her motherly smile. She removed her hands from his head, and looked down at him, blinking. For some reason, the term upset her. She'd get over it eventually, she was sure. But years ago, sometime around this time, she'd lost her sister. Her sister, the blood-traitor.
"A blood-traitor is," she swallowed and shook her head, "Well, it's a pureblood who betrays their blood status and family by doing something like, like, openly supporting half-breeds or-" she paused then. "Or marrying a Muggle-born."
Draco stared at her, looking positively scandalized.
"Where did you hear that term, Draco?" she said softly. Not Lucius, she thought. Please don't be Lucius.
"Mr. Rosier said it at the tea yesterday, and I didn't know what it meant," he shifted uncomfortably, as if he didn't want to get Mr. Rosier into trouble. Which, she supposed, at any other time would be rather amusing, as if she had any power over Mr. Rosier. "I don't like not knowing what stuff means, but I couldn't ask because whenever I ask about stuff at tea all the grown-ups laugh at me."
She nodded, without a word. Draco looked at her then, looking more like his father by the day, and opened his eyes wide, suddenly very concerned.
"Mummy, did I do something wrong?"
"No, why would you think that?" she assured him instantly.
"You're crying."
"I'm no-" she stopped herself, realizing that he was right. "It's just - I had a friend when I was little who turned out to be a blood traitor. Sometimes it makes me sad."
Draco reached out, placing his small, pale hands on hers. The look he was giving her was something akin to Lucius' fiercely protective one. As if he thought that anyone who could make his mother cry was the worst sort of person in the world.
"I hate them."
"Hate is a very strong word, Draco," she said softly. Really, Lucius, she thought, he'd too impressionable to go to these teas with us.
"I have very strong feelings."
She smiled then, pulling her son closer to her. He did, after all, have very strong feelings about a great many things. And he seemed to be at the stage where he was completely unafraid of voicing his complaints. She planted a kiss on top of his head, which was met with the typical overdramatic sigh from him at the mere notion of affectionate parents.
"I know you do, sweetheart."
"Andromeda?"
Andromeda Tonks was numb. She felt nothing. A stronger woman than her would be crying. But all she could do was rock Teddy by her side. It wasn't a proper funeral, neither she nor Narcissa had thought it was worth it. The money for a burial plot for Bellatrix Lestrange had come from the woman's own vault at Gringotts, and she was next to her husband six feet under without a soul crying. And perhaps that would have been sad, or at least invoke pity, had she still been Bella when she died. Andromeda was glad there wasn't a funeral, because she didn't know if she'd be able to say anything. They'd never gotten along. They'd never liked each other.
But there were three sisters there, anyways. With Bellatrix buried, and Narcissa and Andromeda in front, not saying a word to each other. Andromeda hadn't seen Narcissa in years. She looked older than Andromeda had expected, her mind always defaulting to the giggling sister who'd quoted Lucius Malfoy no less than six times an hour. She didn't know if she looked older than Narcissa expected. The youngest Black sister had looked surprised to see her, but that likely related to the fact that she was there at all more than appearance. Or the fact that Andromeda was holding a baby.
Andromeda glanced over at her sister.
"Narcissa."
Narcissa didn't speak immediately, pursing her lips. The next words were quiet, unsure.
"Cissy."
"Lucius changed his mind, then?" she said flatly, not bothering to look.
"No," Narcissa said, pausing for a moment before she continued. "I did."
Andromeda stole a glanced at her sister, whose eyes were shining in a sad sort of way that had nothing to do with Bella. It was far too little, she thought, and much too late for them. She nodded once, smiling faintly enough that Narcissa didn't look sure if it was genuine or forced. Andromeda wasn't entirely sure, either.
"That's good," she said softly. "Cissy suits you better, I think."
And, as unsure of what she had meant by the statement as she was of the smile, Andromeda Tonks turned and returned home, leaving her sister staring after her. Not so different, she considered, than it had been all those years ago. But this time she was the one walking away. And this time, she looked back.