PART 6
Malfoys: 1982

The fresh evergreen garland spiraled perfectly down the balustrade, joint with a single length of fairy lights. Standing at the top of the white marble staircase leading to the front foyer, the youngest sister listened to the peals of laughter that resonated from the drawing room. Her fingers played idly with the thin needles the house-elves so carefully crafted as she forcibly reminded herself that she had every reason to be happy this holiday season. This home, her new home, was enchanting and inviting in a way her most ancient and noble home never could have been.

Yet the blonde knew she didn't have every reason. She couldn't be swept into the enchantment like she wished she could. There were reasons she shouldn't be happy. Two very distinct ones.

The two faces swam to the front of Narcissa Malfoy's thoughts but she didn't get the chance to linger on the why's and the regrets. The laughter renewed and grew louder as a little person came careening out of the drawing room, effectively shattering the woman's internal struggle. The little boy was strapped astride an imitation broom, feet swinging enthusiastically a thirty centimetres above the ground. His childish laughter made Narcissa's heart clench painfully but she tried to find a smile for him and her husband as the man's deeper rumble of laughter mingled in the air. He stepped out of the drawing room to watch his son, pleased with himself as he turned his attention to his wife.

"Cissa, come down and let Draco show you how talented he is," he insisted with a wide smile that reminded the woman why she loved him.

Narcissa began her dissent to the ground floor as she kept a wary eye on her son's teetering trajectory across the cold marble entranceway. The small frown on her face didn't leave as she came to stand at her husband's side and said, "I still cannot fathom why you would give our son such a dangerous toy. He's only two."

Lucius shook his head, having heard her protestations too many times already. "No son of mine is going to be inept on a broomstick. Look at him, he loves it."

"Mummy, I'm going to reary fly one day," Draco announced as he tried to figure out how to stop before he collided with his mother's legs. Lucius caught him before the accident could give credence to his wife's concerns and set him to rights.

Narcissa refrained from grimacing at hearing her son fail yet again to pronounce his l's. Instead, she crouched to be level with him, affording him a loving smile as she reached out and rearranged his tousled white-blonde hair. "Of course you will, little dragon. And I'll be stricken terrified every second you're in the air."

Draco simply beamed in return. "Okay mummy!" Then he was swaying away as the broom gained momentum again.

When Narcissa was again standing beside her husband, the man wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed a kiss against her hair. "Happy Christmas, dear."

The earnest tone to his gentle words told Narcissa what she already knew. He wanted nothing more for her to enjoy her time with them without being reminded of everything they had fought for and lost. Every year since they were both fifteen Lucius had done nothing but attempt to brighten her holidays and crowd out the bitter memories that cloaked her like a shroud. She told him every year that it was a big help, and it wasn't a lie, but Narcissa knew that nothing would ever scrape away the years of shouting, broken glass, and wartime madness.

"Your sister will be here soon and I still have one last gift just for you, love." Lucius' voice drew Narcissa back to the present moment and she turned to him with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Her eldest sister and her husband came to visit them every Christmas since the war ended, and sometimes even during; a tradition she appreciated even though it hurt every time. Bellatrix wasn't the woman Narcissa had once thought she would grow to be. Hardened by the departure of their middle sister, by the war she zealously fought in, Bellatrix had done things Narcissa at one time thought her sister incapable of doing. Anticipating their arrival and looking forward to it were very different things.

Narcissa looked expectantly at Lucius but his vivid blue eyes were guarded as he produced a small wrapped box and held it out for her to take. Without speaking, the twenty-seven year old carefully took the gift into her hands and began to peel away the paper to reveal what was underneath.

A black lacquered oak trinket box was what she found herself admiring once all the paper had been removed. The sides were carved with an intricate pattern of spirals and points but what intrigued her was the infinity symbol carved on the top. The woman looked to her husband only to find him staring resolutely after their son, expression stoic and reserved. The fact that Lucius wouldn't watch her open the box made her uneasy. With a flick at the latch, the box opened on smooth hinges and inside was a photograph that took Narcissa's breath away.

The brick-faced house was wedged between two identical houses on either side. A lattice of ivy encroached on the left corner of the house, seeming to embrace the bay window on the ground floor. Every narrow windowpane was encircled with fairy lights that didn't seem to have actual fairies in them. The little glass lights also lined the portcullis and a healthy green wreath hung over the black door.

Standing in front of the short fence that marked off the small front lawn were a woman and man, smiling wide and waving at the photographer with a young girl wedged between them just as tightly as their home was. The man's dark hair was short and parted by a headband that protruded stuffed antlers. The woman's dark hair fell long and heavy around her shoulders with a shimmering red ribbon tied at her hairline. The young girl's smile was tight as she brushed choppy stands of her red and green hair out of her face and glanced down at the large sweater she was clearly forced to wear, a knitted monstrosity of yellow and red with a large 'N' in the middle. The expression on the girl's face made it clear she was prepared to burn the thing if she didn't have to wear it for the photograph. Both the woman and man were wearing ones as well; grey 'A' on forest green for the woman and purple 'T' that stood out against the vibrant yellow that made up the rest of sweater clothing the man; whose hold on his daughter's shoulder tightened ever so slightly as she squirmed.

Narcissa was fixated on the woman in the photo. Her hazel brown eyes were bright and wide, expressive in the way they had always been. As she smiled and waved, she glanced down at her feisty ten-year-old daughter and the expression in the woman's face was one of pride and love that Narcissa understood well. When the woman returned her gaze to the camera, Narcissa's hand flew to her mouth with surprise at the new depth of emotion reflected from the photographed woman's eyes.

It was only a moment. Brief before the smile and cheer was looped back into place, but Narcissa saw the reflection of pain and longing. The look called out to the matching emotions compressing Narcissa's insides. The sight of such sorrow brought the question unbidden to the blonde: how did she ever let her sister slip away from her?

Narcissa could almost feel the cool and supporting hand Andromeda had always given her when they were children. And just as quickly the ghost sensation left her and she returned her attention fully to the holiday photograph.

This time, Narcissa looked closely at the niece she could never know. It took the woman a moment to recall what the bold yellow N on her sweater stood for but it did come to her: Nymphadora. A metamorphmagus, if the rumours were to be believed. The evidence in the photo made the rumour fact when Narcissa watched as the girl's eyes moved through a spectrum of colours from green to red and back again. Given the rare ability, Narcissa reminded herself that she couldn't easily distinguish a Black feature in the girl but she did witness the way she twisted her lips with indignation, nearly identical to the movement she'd memorised on Andromeda's face at a similar age.

She noticed a second photograph beneath the holiday card and with careful fingers Narcissa lifted the first photo. Her eyes widened at the sight of an infant, swaddled and flushed with mouth wide open issuing a silent wail. At first Narcissa wasn't certain she understood the significance of the baby until the brown swaths of hair—notably similar to the shade of Andromeda's own, she realised—suddenly became an alarming shade of pink.

"Oh my," Narcissa caught herself murmuring aloud.

A hand suddenly clutched at the skirt of her gown and Narcissa was jarred from the contents of the small box to find her son staring up at her, safely off his toy broom. "Mummy, what have you gots?"

"Another present from your father, dear," Narcissa answered carefully as she let the lid fall closed with a resonating snap. "If you behave and let your aunt and uncle fuss over you during their visit then perhaps I'll show you."

"Arright." Draco nodded and then strode on his little legs back into the drawing room to fish out another one of his gifts from under the ten foot Christmas tree.

Narcissa took the opportunity to face her husband, whose thin lips were pressed together tightly. She understood that acquiring these photographs for her hadn't been easy and she wouldn't ask how he accomplished it. He'd done it solely for her, as he had little interest in the sister who shamed the Black family.

The woman lifted her hand to caress Lucius' jaw, forcing him to hold her gaze as she breathed, "Thank you." The emotions thick in her chest were a tangled mess she didn't dare make sense of at the moment.

There was no secret room here, no need to hide silly decorations from disapproving parents. There were also no bonds of sisterhood; no secret smiles and jokes. The only thing left to do was hold on tightly to the family she'd made for herself and hope that Andromeda was doing same. Narcissa had to believe that her sister was as happy as the photograph suggested.