A/N: Whoops, another long chapter. Whelp!
Thanks for reading!
~Naralanis
Hermione scurried to the room she had literally fallen to in her hurry to get back. Her mind went a mile a minute in an effort to understand what in Merlin's name had just happened. She had – unwittingly, completely and utterly unintentionally – met and spoken with Narcissa's dead parents.
She was overcome with an intense feeling of guilt. It wasn't the first time she had intruded upon something very private about Narcissa's life. Hermione practically cringed with guilt remembering the blasted photographs she had found months ago. If she had kept to herself, she wouldn't have seen Narcissa's photograph. If she hadn't seen it, perhaps she wouldn't have approached the sodding window. If she hadn't approached the window, perhaps she could have avoided her little tête-à-tête with Druella Black.
Maybe someone had cursed her. How could she keep invading Narcissa's privacy like this? A rush of blood flooded her cheeks in her guilt. That certainly wasn't the way to create a... a friendship?
Hermione thought of a thousand and one excuses, apologies, explanations and justifications. She couldn't imagine how Narcissa would feel at yet another breach. She expected anger, perhaps disappointment. Hermione didn't know which was worse.
To her surprise, Narcissa's eyes betrayed nothing but concern and deep, deep shame. Hermione was so puzzled at seeing that look upon the blonde's feature's she froze at the doorstep of the room. Narcissa stood, still with perfect posture, but her presence was not commanding or poised as it was usually. No, this Narcissa looked timid and vulnerable.
Hermione would have gladly taken an angry Narcissa instead.
"Ms. Granger, I trust you're alright?" Narcissa asked, her voice empty and tremulous.
Hermione hoped her eyes didn't show her chagrin at hearing Narcissa avoid her first name. It had been months since the other woman had been so formal. She nodded, and was about to try and say something in return when the walls practically shook with the screams coming from the portrait room.
"Come and greet your mother properly, you impertinent child! Brazen, insupportable chit, come look at me when I am speaking to you!"
Hermione thought Narcissa would just melt where she stood, given the flush of utter embarrassment tinging her pallid cheeks. She gave her a look of understanding.
"How about we just get out of here?" She tried jovially. Narcissa only gave her a muted nod in response, reaching out a shaky hand in her direction for a Side-Along apparition.
Hermione gladly took it. They had barely touched when Narcissa whisked them away with a loud crack, drowning out her mother's infuriated shrieks.
They landed none-too-gently in a room Hermione immediately recognized as Narcissa's private study. It only served as a reminder of how much she had perturbed the older woman's privacy. Hermione desperately wanted to say something, to spout one of those apologies she had spent so much energy thinking about, only to feel the keen loss of Narcissa's contact once the blonde let go and stepped through a narrow door without a word.
Hermione stood there, feeling embarrassed and dumb, not knowing how to proceed. She debated calling or going after Narcissa, but that thought process was summarily interrupted.
"Please have a seat, Ms. Granger." came Narcissa's hesitating voice.
The young professor did as she was told, settling onto the chair a white fox slept on the last time she was in this room. She hated being there, sticking out like a sore thumb, being awkward and dumb, she hated hearing how timid Narcissa's voice sounded through the door as she waited.
Thankfully, her wait was mercifully short. Narcissa reappeared carrying a small wooden box by a golden handle. Her countenance was determined, but her eyes were still clouded by shame. The Potions professor daintily sat on the ottoman by Hermione's; a flick of her wand made the box levitate between them.
"Let me see your arm." She said, then paused. "Please."
Hermione obliged, turning slightly in her seat to give Narcissa better access.
Narcissa's hands were cold as she rolled Hermione's sleeve further back to inspect her splinter more closely. She delicately held the brunette's arm in her hands, tilting it slightly as she examined it.
"Your Ferula charm is not half bad" she said, hands at the ligature that held the splinters together. "May I?"
Hermione only nodded, briefly wondering why Narcissa wasn't using magic.
Narcissa slowly and silently got to work on dismantling the splinter. Her touch itself felt soothing, especially now that the numbing effects of the charm were beginning to fade and Hermione felt a sort of dull pain. Narcissa's hands stilled as she uncovered Hermione's scar.
Hermione didn't know if Narcissa actually meant to do it, but suddenly she felt the witch's fingers gracefully brushing against the jagged letters scarred upon her skin. The motion startled her, sending shivers down her spine, and Narcissa immediately stopped, as if she had just realized what she was doing.
"Forgive me." she whispered, going back to removing the splints.
Narcissa took her wand and gently prodded at Hermione's wrist, murmuring diagnostic charms Hermione wasn't familiar with, her brows furrowed in concentration.
"You've broken it in two places, I'm afraid." she said, turning to the floating box she had opened to reveal a number of phials. She selected one of a garish purple colour and applied some of it to Hermione's arm. Any lingering pain the brunette felt vanished completely and the swelling of the break diminished to nothing before her very eyes.
"The good news is, the breaks are quite clean" Narcissa continued, tapping Hermione's wrist ever so lightly with her wand. Hermione felt the pressure and heat of her bone snapping back into place, but none of the pain that usually came with bone-setting charms. "You won't need another splinter, but I will bandage it lightly to restrict your movement until tomorrow. Then, it should be good as new."
Hermione shot Narcissa a smile and a grateful glance. She felt relieved she hadn't attempted to fix it with an Episkey or some other simpler healing charm – those tended to make things worse if the breaks were beyond them.
Narcissa acknowledged Hermione's gratitude with a shy smile of her own as she silently worked on bandaging the brunette's arm. The only sound for long moments was the gentle swish of the bandages as Narcissa tied them securely and carefully without the use of magic.
Hermione loathed the silence.
"Narcissa..." she tried, not even sure where to start from. All those apologies she had so desperately thought of just seemed to vanish into thin air.
"Ms. Granger" Narcissa interrupted, with a pained look in her eyes. "I am truly, truly sorry."
Hermione could only blink in confusion.
"Wait" she said before Narcissa could continue. "What are you apologizing for?"
Narcissa's expression mirrored her own confusion.
"I'm sorry for the PortKey charm at the window – it's been so many years since it has been used I neglected to correct it. I have no idea why the house let you in but not out. Also... I am especially sorry about your encounter with... with my mother. I'm afraid she's not the easiest person – or portrait – to be around."
Hermione tried to hold in her laugh, but was truly unable; the reaction clearly only served to further befuddle her companion.
"You're joking, right?" She said, immediately seeing by Narcissa's look that she was not. "Let me remind you – I spent months in a house with Walburga's portrait. Druella is a jolly good sport in comparison." Hermione said truthfully. Well, truthfully as far as she could tell; nothing guaranteed Druella wouldn't have reacted just as her sister-in-law had she known of Hermione's true blood status. "I mean, she did invite me – or rather, Isobel MacDougal, back for a chat." She joked.
Finally, Narcissa smiled – a weak, timid one, but still a smile. Hermione counted it as a small victory.
"That was remarkably quick thinking of your part. Imagine my surprise when my father came to me, saying a 'young Miss MacDougal' had been unwittingly transported to Charles House."
Hermione latched onto that little tid-bit.
"How did he warn you?" she asked. She hadn't noticed any portraits in Narcissa's study.
Narcissa response was to reach into her robes, taking out a small silver locket decorated with a polished shard of obsidian, which was held in place by intricate silver filigree. She clicked it open to reveal a diminutive portrait with a black background.
A grinning Cygnus Black waved his fingers to Hermione in a humorous greeting.
"Miss MacDougal, what a coincidence seeing you again." He quipped. The knowing glint to his eye had returned; he looked at Hermione as if he could see right through her.
"Yes, um, hello." Hermione said. So that's where Cygnus went when his frame at the house was empty.
"Thank you, Father, for calling me." Narcissa said. Cygnus winked jovially.
"No trouble, poppet. I'll go back and tend to your mother now, you two enjoy yourselves." And with that, he disappeared through the side of the locket.
"Well." Hermione breathed. "He seems... nice?"
Narcissa had a knowing smile tugging at her lips. "Not what you expected of the great Cygnus Black?"
Hermione shook her head. "I'll be honest... No. I've never expected him to look so... Fun?"
Narcissa laughed. "Your surprise is evident, but not unexpected. It's true, my family is known for its... serious countenance, but my father was never truly a harsh disciplinarian." she explained. Hermione's head practically spun.
"He's so different from what I hear about Orion... and what I've seen of Walburga." Hermione muttered. From the little she had heard from Sirius and Andromeda, Orion Black was a bitter, punitive disciplinarian she had always imagined Pure-Blooded patriarchs to be, and Walburga wasn't far off. After her little conversation with Druella, she expected Narcissa's mother was very much the same. It only served to surprise her further with Cygnus.
"My father was never much like his sister Walburga, or his cousin Orion." Narcissa said with a grimace that Hermione almost subconsciously replicated. One needn't look too deep into Pure-Blood family trees to see how strangely incestual they were.
"I'm guessing your mother was more up their alley, no?" Hermione said. She had meant it as a joke, but Narcissa scoffed in what could only be described as irritation.
"Druella always thought she had something to prove. She was born Druella Rosier, you know? After her match with Abraxas Malfoy was dissolved, she wanted to prove she was deserving of marrying into the Black Family. I suppose her parenting style as a way to convince Pollux, my grandfather, that she had the steady hand Cygnus supposedly lacked."
Narcissa suddenly stood and walked over the side table Hermione had knocked over during her first – unauthorized – visit of the study. There were still some photo albums neatly stacked on top. Narcissa grabbed a relatively thin one, decorated in red fabric with worn leather spine. She opened it and gave it to Hermione.
"That's me there" she said, pointing to a family picture. Druella sat on a high-backed chair, looking sick and frail with deep, dark circles under her eyes. Surrounding her were Bellatrix and Andromeda, looking about five and four respectively. Bellatrix smiled widely, looking at their father, who stood proudly with a small bundle wrapped in white embroidered cloths.
"Merlin! You had black hair?" Hermione exclaimed, looking at the wriggling bundle, barely visible in Cygnus' arms.
"Yes" Narcissa laughed. "I know some babies are usually born with lighter hair and it darkens with age; with me it was precisely the opposite somehow." She looked tenderly at the picture, but her expression soured as she looked at Druella. "My mother never liked me."
Hermione looked to Narcissa, then back to the picture. She had assumed as much, with the poison Druella's portrait had continuously spouted about her daughter. Something in the back of her head said it was insurmountably odd to have Narcissa sharing so much about her family like this. But a bigger part pf her enjoyed it, feeling honoured to be able to have such a conversation with the woman.
"Yeah... she wasn't very kind to you back there." Hermione commented. Narcissa only chuckled.
"Not back there or ever. She had always been quite frail, and childbirth was always a risk. But mine was especially difficult – she very nearly died. In the end, she was left barren, without the opportunity to gift my father a son to carry the family name." Narcissa said in clear distaste.
"Cygnus was always disappointed Druella never gave him any sons?" Hermione questioned. She could have sworn Narcissa herself had said something to that effect.
"Oh yes, and deeply so. The difference was, he placed the blame entirely on my mother as opposed to his daughters. It truly wasn't fair to her, but my father loved us dearly; he called me his little angel. My mother found it in herself to love Bellatrix and Andromeda, but she could never bring herself to love me." Narcissa finished with a little sadness.
Hermione looked at the photograph a little closer. Druella barely moved in the picture, save to spare Cygnus and the new-born Narcissa a look of intense disdain. Young Bellatrix alternated where she directed her beaming smile; to the baby in her father's arms or the photographer. Little Andromeda, for her part, stood the closest to her mother, sparing the baby a curious glance every now and then.
Narcissa leaned to look at the picture more closely as well. "My mother could never love me, for she saw me as the last chance to give my father a son. I not only robbed her of that, I robbed her of any other potential subsequent chance she might have had."
Hermione could understand the logic, in a twisted sort of way. Considering how important the survival of the family name was to all of the staunchly Pure-Blooded families, she supposed Druella's disappointment made some sort of sense. It didn't make it right.
Narcissa flipped the page; Hermione wondered if she had forgotten she was there. There, she recognized another family – Orion and Walburga, proudly holding their firstborn, wide but stiff smiles on their faces.
"Godric! I didn't know Walburga could smile!" Hermione exclaimed; Narcissa practically chortled.
"Especially when it came to Sirius" she quipped, pointing at the hysterical infant in Walburga's arms. "He and I were born on the same year, only a few months apart, though I was much closer to Regulus in my childhood." Narcissa explained. "Sirius always had a lot more in common with Drommie... In more ways than we had originally thought, as we came to find out later."
Narcissa flipped the page once again, and Hermione had happily resigned herself to a little family exploration. The blonde stopped at picture Hermione had already seen; Bellatrix with her Hogwarts robes, carrying a giggling Narcissa on her back, Andromeda laughing next to them.
"Bella's first year at Hogwarts." She said. "I was inconsolable after she got on the train. It only got worse the next year, when Drommie had to go and I was left alone."
Hermione couldn't quite relate, at least not to the same level. She missed her friends dearly when term ended, and of course she missed her parents a lot whenever she returned to the castle, but she didn't think she'd ever understand how close one could be with their siblings.
"I've always wondered, what having sisters would be like." She commented. Narcissa turned to her as if she had forgotten the brunette was even there for a moment.
"You were an only child? No Muggle siblings?"
"No, not really. I didn't even have cousins, really, or anything like that – my parents were also only children. As far as I can remember, it was always just my parents and me. Until I went to school, that is." She looked intently at Narcissa. "You were quite close with Andromeda and... and Bellatrix." It wasn't really a question.
"Yes" Narcissa said. If she had noticed any trepidation in Hermione's voice, the blonde gave no indication of it. "I'm fully aware you only know of Bellatrix as the monster she went on to become... But she was the kindest, most caring sister one could have ever asked for."
Hermione didn't have to voice her disbelief; she could tell Narcissa could clearly see it in her eyes. While she knew that no one was born a monster – not even Bellatrix Lestrange – she had years upon years of trauma and dreams that told her precisely the opposite.
"Indeed" Narcissa continued, her expression kind. "She was an exuberant child, endlessly talented in practically all things. She made friends easily, but was incredibly selective, I'm sure you understand how and why. But until she joined the Dark Lord's midst, she was a promising lady with so much potential" Narcissa's eyes turned sad.
"How... how did it happen?" Hermione found herself asking, certain Narcissa understood quite well what 'it' meant. Why she held such a bitterly morbid curiosity about her late torturer, she didn't know. Narcissa's eyes seemed set in stone. "I'm sorry, it's alright if you don't want to tell me." She backtracked.
The Potions professor sighed deeply. "I'm sure you of all people would like to know. In truth, Bellatrix's madness was largely out of her control. Her nature had always been impulsive and explosive, but after she joined the Death Eaters – before they even called themselves that, after she married Rodolphus... Her life was a tragedy after another."
"Before... She was a Death Eater before she even married?" Hermione asked. As far as she knew, Bellatrix had been married before even finishing her education; it meant she had pledged her allegiance to Voldemort earlier than Hermione had previously thought.
"She and Rodolphus married before Christmas on her seventh year. I was in my second, and had acquired special permission from Headmaster Dumbledore to be able to attend the ceremony at the Lestrange Family Estate in France." Narcissa said. A deft movement of her hand sent another album flying from the stack in her direction; she grasped it delicately, flipping it open.
Another grand manor, no doubt, and another marriage composed the picture Hermione found herself looking at. Bellatrix looked absolutely radiant, and so did Rodolphus. Cygnus looked right chuffed, and even Druella looked over the moon with happiness. Rodolphus held a young Bellatrix princess-style and spun in circles as guests threw rice at the pair. Andromeda was present, but looked demure next to a pimply-faced young man, and a twelve-year-old Narcissa smiled dreamily at her older sister and her husband.
"Was their union not arranged?" Hermione questioned. The pair in the picture looked to be in love, or at least desperately happy; however, she had known them to be anything but.
"Yes" Narcissa said. "But Bellatrix and Rodolphus had always been quite fond of each other. They shared many similar ideals, you see. Rod was the one who introduced her to Lord Voldemort on her fifth year."
Hermione choked. "Her fifth?!" she gasped out.
"Yes." Narcissa's tone was sad. "Quite young. Young, foolish despite her precociousness, and so terribly impressionable. Bellatrix had always wanted to be somebody, you see? Tom Riddle gave her ample opportunity." she finished bitterly.
Hermione ran her fingers over the dancing couple. In a matter of years, the happy bride would go on become an unhinged madwoman in the service of Lord Voldemort. She pointed out Andromeda in the picture.
"Andy's there. So this was before..."
"Yes. She eloped with Ted Tonks that summer." Narcissa explained. Her hand joined Hermione's onto the photograph, and she indicated the acne-ridden young man standing next to the middle Black sister. "I'm sure the wedding helped her make up her mind more quickly – my father announced her engagement to Rabastan right after the ceremony."
Hermione's jaw literally slacked open. "That's Rabastan?! Merlin... He was a, uh... late bloomer, wasn't he?"
Narcissa let out a peal of laughter. "Indeed" she chuckled "he was two or three years younger than Andromeda, I believe. They had no interaction at Hogwarts whatsoever."
"Good Godric" Hermione said, looking at the young man who at one point was supposed to marry Andromeda. She had only seen him in person after his breakout from Azkaban, along with his brother and sister-in-law. In the picture, he looked blissfully oblivious to practically everything.
"Everyone looks so happy..." Hermione thought aloud. "Well, Andromeda maybe not too much." She added as an afterthought.
Narcissa chuckled. "We were," she said, flipping the pages absentmindedly. "That is, until Andromeda ran off. I thought my mother would die of heartbreak then and there; Drommie had always been her favourite."
Hermione furrowed her brows. "I can't imagine a parent having a favourite child." She said. Narcissa's eyeroll in response was surprising.
"Said the only child." She joked.
Hermione matched Narcissa's eyeroll. "Come off it. You'd have a favourite child?" Narcissa merely shurgged her shoulders.
"I do have a favourite son." She said with a knowing smirk. Hermione sighed in defeat.
"Alright, that was a bad example" Hermione sighed. "But do you think someone like Molly would have a favourite son?"
"Of course not" Narcissa quipped with a smirk. "She has a favourite daughter," she added with a knowing look which made Hermione laugh. "Perhaps Molly Weasley isn't capable of picking favourites; the ability was not beyond my mother, however." Narcissa's tone turned more serious.
"My father died shortly after Draco was born – a blood malediction; there was nothing the Healers could do for him except make him comfortable in the last years of his life. My mother lived through Andromeda's elopement and Bellatrix's imprisonment. If it weren't for Draco's birth, I doubt very much she would have deigned to speak to me. She passed away in her sleep shortly before he began his second year at Hogwarts."
Hermione looked at the Druella in the pictures, reconciling the image with the one she had interacted with at Charles House.
"I can't imagine having my mother not speak to me." she murmured softly, because she truly couldn't. Hermione counted herself lucky enough to have two loving, supporting parents, who encouraged her every endeavour as a child. They had never truly disapproved of anything she did – with a few exceptions here or there. The only time her mother had ever been upset with her – memory-related incidents excluded – was when she returned from her second year, after she finagled a magical fix for her buck teeth.
"I do wonder how Muggle families operate." Narcissa wondered aloud. Hermione laughed.
"Not much differently than most wizarding families, I would say... Pure-Blooded etiquette excluded, of course." An idea struck.
"Come with me?"
Any awkwardness that lingered after the misadventure at Charles House had dissipated with the two witches' impromptu family exploration. It was strange to look at Narcissa's family through her lens; every time it came up, Hermione felt a little shock when her every expectation about them was shattered. Bellatrix wasn't born a mad, Cygnus was a kind man to his daughters, Walburga could smile, Druella hated her youngest.
Nevertheless, she found it enjoyable to learn so much about Narcissa's family and, by proxy, about the woman as well. She figured it would be nice to return the favour.
The two reached Hermione's private study in no time at all, despite the long distance from the Dungeons. The castle was dark and blessedly empty, draped in an eerie silence that made their footsteps echo through the halls. Narcissa followed Hermione without a word, only the spark of curiosity glimmering in her blue eyes.
Once they reached the study, Hermione at once summoned a castle elf for some tea and biscuits, urging Narcissa to take a seat and get comfortable while she rummaged through a decorative trunk to find what she wanted. She had knelt by the trunk for a good five minutes of frustration before Narcissa questioned why she didn't just summon whatever it was she wanted.
"Whoops. I guess that's the Muggle in me." Hermione said, blushing from her neck to the roots of her hair, but with an inward sense of pride. Maybe she wasn't completely losing her identity, after all.
She summoned her childhood album, and out it came, flying and ready to her palm. The tea and biscuits materialized at the side table just as she took a seat herself.
"Let's see how Muggle families operate, shall we?" She said with a timid smile, wondering why she'd think Narcissa would be interested at all. Perhaps this had been a terrible idea.
She needn't have worried; Narcissa responded to her smile in kind. The blonde even seemed eager to open the album.
"Oh!" Narcissa exclaimed at the first page. "I had forgotten that Muggle pictures do not move. How incredibly odd." She mentioned, dusting her fingertips over a shot that merely showed Hermione's parents – Katherine round with pregnancy – posing by the building where Hermione had been born, the Royal London Hospital.
"Your parents?" Narcissa asked, pointing out the couple in the photo. Hermione herself hadn't looked at those pictures in forever; she'd forgotten how wild her mother's hair was.
"Yeah. Katherine and William Granger, August 1979."
"August?"
"I was born in September." Hermione said.
"Draco was born in October, that same year." Narcissa pondered.
Hermione suddenly thought this was a terrible idea. Narcissa had been married with a child of her own on the way when she had been born. If the blonde had any indication of Hermione's... fondness for her, she had no idea, but if Narcissa ever came to find out, surely this would be a supremely difficult thing to get over.
"Are you alright?" Narcissa asked. Hermione realized she had been gripping the edges of the album a little too tightly.
"Fine!" She squeaked, letting go. Narcissa turned the page.
"And I suppose that's you?" she said kindly, pointing out a bundle on Katherine Granger's chest in the hospital room. "Is that the Muggle equivalent to a midwitch?" she asked, pointing out the doctor, who was covered from head to toe, with gloves and a mask. Hermione chuckled.
"Sort of. She's the doctor who delivered me."
"Ah." Narcissa squinted, taking a closer look. "What an odd bed." Hermione immediately knew what the witch meant.
"Those are wires and tubes. They monitor the baby and the mum's heartbeat through that machine there" she pointed it out "and I believe this here is the IV drip – it's for medication and hydration."
She immediately saw that she'd need to be a little more specific; Narcissa looked at her as she had spoken Mermish.
"Intra-venous drip. There's a needle attached to a tube that goes to that bag there. It deposits medication straight into the bloodstream." She didn't know if she could get simpler than that.
"Merlin." Narcissa said, looking a little green at the edges but otherwise impressed. "That's... ingenious."
Hermione appreciated the comment, even if it was clear Narcissa didn't quite understand. It helped Hermione feel a little more at ease.
Soon they had flipped through Hermione's infancy and early childhood: her first tooth, first steps, first word.
"Ah!" Hermione exclaimed when they came upon a particular picture. Little Hermione was in her high chair, looking quite angrily to the camera. "My dad still talks about this day: it was the first time they saw me perform some accidental magic!" She looked longingly to the picture; it was one of her favourite stories.
"I hated broccoli, you see. Absolutely hated it – Mum had an awful time trying to get me to eat it. Then, one night, I threw this royal tantrum over it. I just wasn't having it. The more mum tried, the more I resisted, until suddenly poof! All the broccoli in my plate shot up to the ceiling!"
Narcissa laughed heartily at that. "I wonder what Muggles would make of such a thing. Even with Wizards, accidental magic often catches us unaware. Draco made all my books fly from my bookshelves when I wasn't giving him enough attention to his liking."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "That sounds like Draco," she quipped. "James turned Harry's hair red – just like Ginny's."
Narcissa chuckled. Hermione wished she had seen a red-haired Harry in person; it was way funnier than anyone could even imagine.
"I believe I was with Bella the first time I produced accidental magic" Narcissa said. "She was with me in the garden at Charles House. My mother had just ripped out the white roses and replaced them with geraniums – which I for some reason disliked intensely. According to Bella, I took one look at those geraniums and they immediately wilted."
"Merlin. You really didn't like geraniums, did you?"
Narcissa shot her a knowing look.
"Almost as much as you didn't broccoli, Hermione."
A chime of the grandfather clock Hermione kept in her study interrupted them. Somehow, they had talked for hours since their return from Charles House – it was nearing midnight. Hermione had no clue how the time had passed them by so fast.
"Oh, Salazar." Narcissa huffed in annoyance. "I forgot, I was supposed to floo Drommie ages ago!"
"Oh no! I'm sorry. I completely lost track of time." Hermione gasped apologetically. Narcissa waved her off.
"It's no matter; I'll floo her in the morning, though I should probably send her a short note explaining," she said, standing. "I greatly enjoyed our talk."
Hermione beamed; she could tell Narcissa's smile was genuine. "As have I. Sorry again about... well, about the portrait thing." She said sincerely as she walked Narcissa out.
"Don't trouble yourself with it. I've told you before, I greatly enjoy your company." Narcissa said. She paused uncertain at the door. "In the meantime... Perhaps we could do this again? Over proper tea, perhaps?"
Hermione managed to contain her surprise and content. She smiled back. "I'd love to."
A/N: Some of you will notice I messed a bit with some timelines (Draco's birth, for example). I made all the Black sisters a little bit younger, but I wanted Narcissa to have a bigger gap between Bellatrix and Andromeda (I kind of wanted her to be the baby of the family). Quite by accident, I made her nearly exactly 20 years older than Hermione, so I guess that's a nice round number, because math really isn't my forte haha! I have a timeline I wrote for this story in particular, where I moved some things around. I'll digitize and share it on my Tumblr at some point!
~Naralanis
