Previously in the Darklyverse: The Order received political asylum in Canada and appointed Lily and Reg as delegates to the Canadian Ministry, but they soon discovered that Canada is bent on declaring war against Britain. Narcissa was horrified by the Death Eaters' tactics when she went on her first raid.

xx

January 8th, 1983: Narcissa Malfoy

"Political asylum?" says Bella; Narcissa can hear her hurling the parchment onto the dining room table. After the pages settle, silence rings out until she repeats in a shriek, "POLITICAL ASYLUM!?"

As usual, the Malfoys' dining room is crowded with Death Eaters, and Narcissa is starting to really miss the privacy her family used to be afforded before Lucius became Minister and their home became the de facto headquarters of the organization. Narcissa's not in the meeting, but she can hear every word from the kitchen, where she's keeping occupied baking custard tarts for dessert. Every time she hears Bella speak, Narcissa flinches.

"Bellatrix, this could be a good thing," murmurs a male voice. "It hasn't reached our papers yet, so we control the narrative. If we frame it as overreach, as interventionism—"

"They were in our hands! We had the fuckers, and we let them escape, and now they've run on away to Canada and gotten themselves political asylum. Tell me, Rosier, what is the point if they aren't playing by our rules?"

"Yes, what is the point of any of this?" says Lucius dryly. Narcissa whisks faster, a bit of custard flying up and spattering on her hand. "We've been sitting on our power without using it for too long. I say it's time we move ahead—begin planning to take down the Statute."

He's referring to the Statute of Secrecy and Bella's plan to make wizardkind known to the Muggles in order to fully subjugate them. Narcissa can still vividly remember a time when Lucius wanted to tread carefully and disagreed with Bella, even if he was too afraid of her to voice it loudly. For that matter, Narcissa remembers a time when Lucius had an undercurrent of fear beneath his ego. These days, more and more, he seems to be ego alone.

She doesn't like it. She agreed with his politics once, but when he became Minister—

"We deal with the vigilantes first. They killed my sister—and your brother, Rodolphus." Ah: it's Carrow speaking, then.

"Yes, but—"

Bella says now, "Canada hasn't scooped up all the little traitors yet. We've still got the country's favorite one." She's talking, of course, about Dumbledore. "And we can use him."

The custard tarts, at least, are a hit, though they're not enough to entirely diffuse the tension in the room. For the remainder of the meeting, Narcissa bides her time up with Draco in the nursery and doesn't come down until she hears the series of cracks that mean Disapparition. When she comes down, however, she realizes she's come too soon: Bella and her husband are lingering in the living room with Lucius, who beckons Narcissa over with his mouth in a thin line and sweat trickling down his temples. "We've hardly seen you tonight," he says carefully. "It's almost like you don't want to associate with us anymore."

"Nonsense," she says back equally carefully. She glances at Bella. "I suppose I'm just wondering… what it's all for."

"Getting the prisoners back?" asks Rodolphus, frowning.

"Taking down the Statute. I mean, is it really necessary to…?"

"They're worthless shite, Cissy," says Bella matter-of-factly. "The Mudbloods and the vigilantes. Or are you questioning even that, my dearest sister?"

Even Andy? Narcissa wants to ask her, but she holds her tongue. She's got a lifetime of experience keeping her true thoughts to herself wherever Bella is concerned.

When Andy ran off with that Mudblood, Narcissa found herself wishing for months that Bella had been the one to get herself excommunicated instead. It would have been so much easier to be best friends with Andy, who was headstrong like Bella, yes, but also kind in the face and gentle, not quick to manic violence. But Narcissa had been taught loyalty to the cause above all else: in the Blacks' world, family only comes first when their beliefs coincide with yours. The moment that's no longer true, you're not family anymore.

At first, part of Narcissa had wondered whether Andy would reach out to her even after getting married, but she soon came to learn that Andy had cut the Blacks out of her life as much as the Blacks had cut her out of theirs. It probably wouldn't have changed anything—Narcissa most likely wouldn't have responded—but it would have felt good, albeit in a guilty sort of way, to know that Andy still wanted her. But Andy doesn't still want Narcissa, and now, their lives have diverged so much that Narcissa wouldn't even know where to begin if they reconnected.

Not that they're going to reconnect. It's just—ever since Andy broke out of Azkaban, Narcissa has found herself desperately wondering whether she's okay—how she could have turned so far away from her upbringing as to sacrifice her freedom for her new ideals. If Narcissa is being honest with herself, she's starting to…

…to question. And there's only one person in the world who might understand what it's like to be a Black who questions.

Well, two. There's also Sirius. It's just—Narcissa and Sirius were never close like Narcissa and Andy were, and it's been so long since Narcissa's spoken to him that she always sort of—forgets about him.

Trouble is, Narcissa doesn't have the first idea how she ought to go about reaching Andy, you know, if she were ever to actually consider trying. Canada is a big country, and Narcissa hasn't got a clue where in it Andy is staying or working, if she is indeed working at all there yet. Besides, if Canada is anything like Britain, Narcissa can't just go to the Canadian Ministry and ask for Andy's address. She'd have to go in disguise and break in after hours, and who knows what security measures they've set up to keep out intruders?

Then there's the matter of carrying all this out without Lucius, Bella, or any other Death Eater realizing what Narcissa is doing. She's the one who takes care of Draco, not Lucius, because Narcissa has no job and nowhere else she needs to be. If she were to ask Lucius to look after Draco a while so she could track down her sister, he'd obviously want to know why.

Of course, she could always just try writing to Andy to request a meeting. The only problem is that Andy would surely throw the thing away without even reading it, let alone considering arranging a meeting. She obviously knows that Narcissa is married to not just any Death Eater, but the Death Eater in the ultimate position of British power—and Andy grew up watching Narcissa embrace pureblood politics over and over and over. There's no way in hell she'd trust Narcissa. How does she even begin to express in a letter what she's feeling when she doesn't even understand her doubts herself?

Still, all evening, she finds herself composing bits of a message in her mind, and she thinks she might go crazy if she doesn't get the thing out of her head and into the world. So she waits until Draco is asleep and Lucius has locked himself in his study, and she fetches some parchment, ink, and a quill.

She's not expecting Andy to agree to anything, at least not right away, but if she writes a bloody masterpiece, she might at least entice Andy to read all the way to the end—maybe even save it to reread later. If she goes so far as to divulge Death Eater secrets—

Andromeda,

About a month ago, I went on a raid. It was my first and only to date. Lucius asked me to go, and I accepted, not because I wanted to, but because you know how it is: you put the mission first. Black girls are nothing if not dutiful. It's why I never understood how you could walk away for something as trivial as love.

I understand, of course, now that I have Draco. He turns three in June, and he's why I'm writing this letter to you. The world around him is so violent, and that's the opposite of what I wanted for him when Lucius and I discussed Lucius's initial run for Minister of Magic.

I can understand wanting to be able to practice magic without fear of persecution—taking pride in who we are—so we can walk down the streets with our wands without retribution. I can even understand that the only way to ensure our freedom is to rule—to reclaim our fear and instill it in our oppressors. I'm still the same sister you knew in childhood; I still don't see how a world catered to the fear of Muggles and dictated by the ignorance of Mudbloods could be what we need.

What I can't understand is how they torture Muggles and Mudbloods for sport—for nothing but the enjoyment of the thing. What I will never understand is how this war stopped being about a safer world and morphed into a campaign for endless power.

Of course, maybe I was wrong, sister. Maybe that's what it was always about, and I just couldn't see it until my husband ascended to power.

I don't know much about the man I killed. He was an elderly man—elderly by Muggle standards, anyway—who lived alone in a house with two bedrooms, one that looked untouched and another that looked like the only lived room in the house. I can't stop wondering whether he had a wife once who may have passed away—whether that spare room was meant for children who never visited. I'll never know. I don't even know his name.

I do know how terrified his eyes looked before the life drained out of them, and I can't ever forget it, no matter how hard I try.

I don't want this world, this life, for Draco.

I can give you information about their plans, if you want it. If you can spare any sympathy in your heart for a sister desperate for a way out, write back.

Yours—Cissy

Writing the thing is the hard part: she goes through four drafts before finally stumbling on one she deems satisfactory. Encoding it, on the other hand, is easy—at least, it's easy for Narcissa. She can only hope that Andy will recognize the letter for what it is and remember how to decode it.

She fetches their owl and sends the thing before she can think twice about it. Now, the only thing left to do is wait.