Dirge
Chapter Two: Narcissa
She will mourn Bellatrix, of course. But later, when she has time to think about all Bellatrix has meant to her – because although Bellatrix is her sister, her childhood partner-in-crime, she has also hurt her family, left Lucius at the Department of Mysteries to be taken to Azkaban, made Narcissa's house echo with Draco's screams. Her loyalty to her son is greater than her loyalty to her sister, and a small, vindictive part of her is actually glad that Bellatrix is dead.
The greater part of her knows that she is devastated at Bella's death, but she won't admit that now, not in front of so many blood traitors, so many Mudbloods. They would love to see her bent over Bellatrix's body, placed in a side chamber with the Dark Lord's and so many others'. Rodolphus. Rabastan. Antonin. For all that these men have hurt her family, they are the only friends she has. Had.
She cannot cry for Death Eaters, here in Hogwarts' Great Hall with so many heroes cheering and laughing around her. The clusters of people that sit at the long tables, heads bent together in grief, are mourning the glorious dead. Most prominent are the Weasley family: their bright hair would make them stand out even if the sheer number of them didn't. Vaguely, Narcissa wonders if she hates Molly Weasley for killing Bella, even as she acknowledges that the other woman has lost people to Death Eaters, and her brothers (Narcissa knows) in part to Bellatrix.
Harry Potter, who is sitting with the Weasleys, between the girl and the youngest boy, notices her staring and nods guardedly at her. Narcissa feels a thrill of combined triumph and embarrassment – he acknowledges what he owes her, and she knows he alone will keep her family out of Azkaban – but he caught her staring at him like an awe-struck child.
Narcissa looks quickly away from Potter to the staff table, where the bodies of the fallen heroes lie in some sort of horrid tribute. She glances over the Weasley boy, the Bones girl, and a few other students (she grips Draco's hand instinctively as she notes the sheer number of children there – with a borrowed wand, he could so easily have been lying among them – but no, he would not be among them, they would have put him in the other room, with the Dark Lord and Bellatrix, both of whom Draco fears). She notices the shabby robes and longish hair of Remus Lupin, who she recognizes from her Hogwarts days, and next to him lies –
Her.
Nymphadora Tonks. The niece Narcissa never met, never saw except for a few pictures stolen from the Ministry, where Lucius's influence once allowed her free access to all sorts of files. It was how she found out about Nymphadora's existence, when her own pregnancy nearly drove her insane with wondering if Andromeda had any children.
Nymphadora. Narcissa wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry at the name, to love her sister or to hate her for it. Nymphadora had been Cissy's and Andie's favorite name (Bella had hated it), and the name of countless dolls, stuffed animals, and a cat. When she was seven, Cissy had campaigned to name a new house elf Nymphadora, but not even Andie had agreed to that.
She wasn't sure then – and still isn't sure now – if the name was a tribute to the Black sisters or a slap on the face, Andie taking yet another thing from her little sister. Or even if Andromeda was playing with fate, trying to make sure that Nymphadora Tonks and Nymphadora Malfoy would notice their shared name and become friends at Hogwarts.
But Narcissa's baby was a boy and there were no others. Bellatrix looked too jealously at the one she had.
In death, Nymphadora looks nothing like the pictures in the Ministry files: her Apparition license, an article from the Daily Prophet about the newest Aurors, a brochure offering tips on Stealth. Her skin is too pale, her mouth is slack, her body stiller than it has ever been in photographs.
Now that it is safe to think such thoughts, Narcissa admits to herself that she would have liked to have known this half-blood niece of hers, this wife of a werewolf. She never noticed before, but Nymphadora's heart-shaped face is a softer version of Narcissa's own.
When Andromeda arrives, Narcissa decides suddenly, I will try to get her to be my sister again. Andie and Cissy, even with that gaping space where another name should be, would be better than the two of us apart. It's too late for me to know Nymphadora, but Andie could know Draco.
And I could know her grandson, Nymphadora's daughter. Teddy.
She knows she doesn't deserve what she's planning, her sister come back to her, a grand-nephew (Merlin, but that makes her sound old!) to dote on. A safety net in case Potter decides to forget what happened in the forest. But Narcissa is a Slytherin, and she has never cared much about what she deserves. She sees what she wants and she takes what she can.
So instead of weeping for Bella and Rodolphus and Rabastan and the others, Narcissa pulls Draco tight against her and begins to cry for Nymphadora Tonks.
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