The following day, Andromeda was restlessly shifting the hangers in her wardrobe, moving repeatedly from the line of long, colourful wizarding robes on one side to the shorter and more casual Muggle clothing on the other. Anxiety was churning in the pit of her stomach, images of the incident with Nymphadora and Narcissa whirling repeatedly around her mind.

She had been awake most of the night, thinking over yesterday's events, and had eventually concluded she could no longer leave the remainder of her family in ignorance of her reconnection with Narcissa. The cowardice that had led her to postpone telling her daughter had already caused enough damage, but at least she could learn from that. She was therefore determined not to waste a moment in telling her in-laws.

After much deliberation, she chose one of her longer Muggle sundresses, one that sat somewhere between robes and Muggle clothing in style, and waved her wand to pull her hair up into a loose bun. The house was eerily quiet as she made her way downstairs and out through the back door. Ted had gone out an hour ago to meet one of his seemingly endless contingent of friends. She hadn't told him what she was doing: he'd only want to come with her, and that would make him feel very torn if anyone reacted badly. As for Nymphadora... she had disappeared off to the Weasleys' almost as soon as it was light, taking Teddy with her. It was quite obvious that she'd done so to avoid her mother, a thought that led to another sickening surge of guilt. Poor Nymphadora was going through enough, without all this.

For a moment, Andromeda questioned whether she shouldn't Apparate to Malfoy Manor instead, and tell Narcissa... tell Narcissa she could never see her again. Another wave of pain enveloped her at that thought, an image of her sister's shadowed eyes and shrunken figure cutting sharply into her mind. Cissy was clearly suffering too. Andromeda could hardly imagine what her sister must have been through, with He Who Must Not Be Named in their home, hurting her only child. The fact that a good part of that was Narcissa's own fault only made it harder to bear. If Cissy and that worthless husband of hers could simply have seen sense... but they hadn't, and Andromeda simply couldn't stop herself caring about the state her little sister was in, whatever she'd done to deserve it.

She hesitated again as she reached the Apparition point, but her mind was made up, really. If she were honest, it had been made up weeks ago, when Cissy had tentatively asked her to tea after the funeral of a sister whose true self had died years ago, one of many pointless sacrifices at the bigoted altar of blood supremacy. No. However foolish it might be, whatever anyone might think of her, she couldn't lose Cissy again. Not her too.

Andromeda took a deep breath before she twisted on the spot, reappearing at her sister-in-law Lizzie's, just inside the Fidelius Charm she'd cast at the boundaries of the property. As Andromeda materialised out of the air, she saw that her sister was only a few metres away, mowing the lawn that edged the long driveway.

Lizzie jumped visibly at the crack of her Apparition, dropping the lawn mower and whipping around, her eyes wide with fear. As her gaze landed on Andromeda, though, her expression quickly softened, her face splitting into a broad smile.

"'Meda, lovely!" She switched off the lawn mower and bounded towards Andromeda, pulling her into a tight hug. "Great to see you, sis, how're you keeping?"

"I'm well." Andromeda felt a little guilty as she returned the embrace, wondering if Lizzie would regret the affection once she told her her news. "I'm sorry if I startled you. I... I should have called." Internally, she cursed her own stupidity: Lizzie lived less than a fifteen minute drive away, why on Earth had she decided to arrive by magic? She ought to have thought how frightening a sudden appearance might be, given the terror her sister had lived under for a year.

"Nonsense, it's a lovely surprise!" Lizzie pulled back, grinning. "I was just thinking how boring and middle-aged I was, spending my Sunday morning mowing grass, and now I've got an excuse to laze about gossiping with my wonderful sister, which is an infinitely more appealing pros- Meda, what's wrong?" Her face fell into a concerned frown.

Andromeda sighed, frustrated with herself. The twist of pain and guilt she'd felt at Lizzie's excited greeting must have shown in her expression, and she'd hoped to break the news more gradually. "I'm afraid I have something to tell you. It's not – no-one has been hurt," she added quickly, as fear had sparked in Lizzie's eyes again. "I simply have some news, and... and you deserve to hear it from me."

She felt yet another wave of pain as she met her sister's eyes. There was a reason she'd come here first. Over the years, Lizzie had become her closest friend as well as, like all her in-laws, her true family. If she reacted badly to this, Andromeda wasn't quite sure how she'd live with herself.

Her eyes dropped to the floor involuntarily. "If you never want to see me again after this, I could hardly blame you, and of course I'd keep the Fidelius Charm in place, for however long you wanted, or we could change to another Secret-Keeper if you felt more-" Andromeda was stalling, she knew, and she couldn't blame Lizzie when she cut across her.

"Stop being an idiot, Meda." Lizzie stepped closer to her. "Look at me, you fool."

A little reluctantly, Andromeda raised her gaze.

"There are no circumstances on this Earth in which you could possibly do something that would make me refuse to see you," her sister said firmly, her deep brown eyes locking onto Andromeda's, blazing with warmth. "That is not going to happen, Meda, do you understand me?"

"There must be some possible circumstances," Andromeda returned, feeling a little less nervous.

"None that I can imagine would actually happen. I'm certain you'd never do anything that would hurt me that badly, and I know you almost as well as I know myself. Although I really hope you're about to prove me wrong on that last part, because I'm having a very disturbing premonition that Prissy Cissy is about to slither her way into this conversation."

Andromeda blinked, her mouth falling open. "How did you... Yes. This is about Narcissa."

Lizzie groaned. "Oh, God, I thought so. Please, please tell me you've somehow forgotten I read the Daily Prophet and this is just you admitting to defending her at her trial. Please tell me that's all this is."

"I should have realised you'd read that." Andromeda felt another flash of guilt. "I'm sorry, I ought to have told you. And...no, that's not what this is about. I- Narcissa and I are speaking again. Seeing each other. I'm so sorry, Liz. I – I can't just..."

Andromeda trailed off, feeling disgusted with herself. Her mind flashed through memories of the newspapers: horrendous attacks by Death Eaters on Muggles, on families just like Lizzie's. No doubt Lucius had been involved in his share of them, all while Narcissa continued to stand by him, support him. Love him. "I know what she's done is unpardonable. But I- I just..." Despite everything, the memories of her younger sister as a child refused to be eroded, and Andromeda couldn't help but think of how ill Cissy looked these days. "I can't..."

"Hey," Lizzie murmured gently, stepping closer. Andromeda felt the insistent pressure of her sister's arms and yielded instantly, allowing herself to be pulled gently into the other woman's warm shoulder. Lizzie rested a hand gently on the back of her head, as though she were trying to shield her from the world.

"It's okay, Meda. You think I don't know you still love her, despite everything?" She felt the movement as her sister shook her head. "You're far too soft, you know, but we love you for it."

Andromeda couldn't speak for a moment, overwhelmed with equal parts gratitude for Lizzie's understanding; guilt, as she knew she far from deserved it; and love for her whole adopted family, whose capacity to care so unconditionally still amazed her. "Lizzie, I... thank you."

"Don't get me wrong, now, this conversation is far from over," Lizzie continued, pulling back slightly to meet Andromeda's eyes. "But let's carry it on over a cup of tea, mmm? Elsa made brownies the other day."

Andromeda followed as her sister led her up the smooth drive, leaving the lawnmower abandoned where she'd dropped it. They curved around the back of the house, passing by flowerbeds that were a riot of colour, to enter the stone-flagged kitchen. A few seconds later, Lizzie had shepherded her into a seat at the large wooden table that sat at its centre, its worn surface partly obscured by a messy scattering of magazines, newspapers and recipes scribbled on the back of old receipts.

By the time steaming cups of tea and a stack of brownies were piled in front of them both, Andromeda's anxiety and distress had begun to subside a little, reassured by the familiar room and Lizzie's steady presence. As she began to feel calmer, she was able to take in more of her sister's expression. She was clearly trying to hide it, but Andromeda could tell from the way Liz held her shoulders and the tightness in her jaw that she was furious. Andromeda felt another hot surge of shame.

"I'm mad at her, not you," Lizzie bit out as she took the seat opposite her. "Come on, lovely, drink your tea."

Andromeda took a sip of the steaming hot liquid. "I don't deserve this."

"What, tea? Everyone deserves tea, that's the Tonks family motto." Lizzie smirked. "Beats toujours pur, at any rate. At least it's honest, right?"

"I'm so sorry," Andromeda repeated. "I know this must be difficult news."

"It is, but not in the way you're thinking." Lizzie took a large bite of brownie, taking her time to eat it before she continued. "I'm not angry with you. You have every right to see your own sister. Although I think this proves it's possible to be too loving and far too forgiving. Meda... twenty-seven years of silence, and she wants to reconnect now? When her family's in disgrace, and your daughter's a prominent member of the Order and a friend of Harry Potter's, to boot? You're an intelligent woman. I know you must be suspicious of her motives." Lizzie tightened her fingers around the handle of her mug, her knuckles bone-white and her expression now one of barely-contained rage. "How likely do you think it is that she'll turn right round and abandon you again, as soon as she's clawed back some of her precious power and status?"

Andromeda bit her lip, her chest tightening with pain. "Very likely, if the circumstances were right, but I hope they won't be for some time. Disowning me will be a bad political manoeuvre for many years to come, and Cissy knows that."

There was a long silence.

"Do you know what else I think Narcissa knows?" Lizzie asked icily. "I think that horrid little snake knows full well how wonderfully loving a person you are, and exactly which heartstrings to pull to worm her way back into your life... oh, I could kill her for this! She's manipulating you, Andromeda, you've just admitted it's almost a certainty." Lizzie leant forwards, the fury in her face shifting to desperation. "Please, Meda. Please don't let her. I'd hate to see you hurt again."

There was another silence. Andromeda let her eyes stray across the room for a few moments, unable to bear the intensity of her sister's gaze. Eventually, she took a breath, forcing herself to meet Lizzie's eyes again. "When you read the account of the trials... did you see what she did for Ted?"

Lizzie snorted. "Come off it, Andromeda, she didn't exactly pull him from a burning building. Suggesting a couple of lowlifes tell a lie hardly counts as heroic."

"True. But nevertheless... it gives me some hope that she still cares about me at some level, even if-"

"Andromeda, if she cared about you she wouldn't have cut off contact with you for nearly thirty years. She wouldn't have supported a movement that sought to directly harm you and yours. She wouldn't have made you choose between her and the man you love. Are you sure you want to risk being hurt like that again?"

Andromeda winced, a memory flashing into her mind. Lying, unable to sleep, on an unfamiliar bed, in a strange Muggle house. A house full of people she'd only just met, who were now the only family she had in the world, save Ted and perhaps Sirius. The harsh voices of her blood relatives still ringing in her ears from the terrifying confrontation that morning and the Howlers that night. The realisation finally hitting her, after all the adrenaline, that she'd never again refuse a ridiculous dare from Bella, gossip about the latest fashions with Cissy or play with Regulus. Trying to stifle her sobs in her pillow so as not to wake Lizzie, whose room she was sharing.

Trying and failing, in the end. Lizzie had ended up in the bed beside her, holding her while she cried herself to sleep, night after night, for weeks after her disownment. She'd never once complained, waving away Andromeda's embarrassed apologies and soothing as much of her hurt as she could.

Tears sprung into Andromeda's eyes, and she reached a desperate hand out across the table. Lizzie took it instantly, her firm, warm grip an instant comfort.

"No, I don't," Andromeda choked out, trying not to let herself cry. "But it's likely to happen, whatever I do. If I accept Cissy now, then you're right, there's every likelihood it'll end badly, but at least it's not a certainty. And I might be able to do some good in the meantime. Of course, it's her own fault, but... but she's not well, Lizzie. I've never seen her like this."

Andromeda took a breath, trying not to dwell on the sight of Narcissa's collarbones jutting sharply through her skin, the shadows under her eyes, the dullness of her expression. Despite her best efforts, hot tears spilled over her eyelids. She flushed with shame at the display of emotion: she shouldn't be crying over Cissy in front of Lizzie, who'd had to hide in the house for a year, quit her job, and live in constant terror of the Death Eaters finding her and her daughters. "I'm so sorry, I-"

"Don't do that thing where you apologise for having normal human feelings, Meda," Lizzie ordered firmly. "It's Black family nonsense and I'm having none of it. Keep going, I'm listening."

Andromeda took another shaky breath, her heart hammering in her chest and her stomach swirling. "I- oh, Lizzie, if I turn her down now, it would hurt just as much as it would if she were to disown me again in a few years. I'd simply be making the pain certain, and abandoning Cissy when she most needs me. I – I just can't do it. I know it's selfish-"

"No, it's not," her sister cut in. "It's the opposite of selfish. You love your sister despite everything, and you want to help her. Meda, lovely..." Lizzie's piercing eyes looked searchingly at her. "Is that really true? It'd truly hurt you just as much to lose her now? You're sure?"

Andromeda nodded slowly, scrubbing at her eyes with her free hand. "I know she's a horrible person. I know she's condoned terrible things. I know I shouldn't, but... I've missed her so much."

Lizzie's face changed suddenly, her shrewd expression giving way to something much gentler. "In that case, how can I help?"

"What?" Andromeda asked stupidly. "What do you mean?"

"If this is genuinely what will cause you the least pain, Meda, then I'll support you," her sister repeated, squeezing the hand she held. "How can I make it easier?"

Andromeda blinked, the flow of her tears beginning to slow. "Oh. I- Lizzie, thank you. I don't deserve such kindness."

"Yes, you do. I'll do anything to help you, you know – well, within reason, anyway. I do draw the line at having any form of civil conversation with that git of a husband of hers."

Despite her misery, Andromeda couldn't help smiling. "In fairness, that is also where I draw the line. At present I'm refusing to see him, and I make sure I insult him to Cissy's face at least five times in any given outing."

Lizzie grinned and winked. "Atta girl. So. Tell me how I can help."

The thought of asking Lizzie's advice on Nymphadora was a tempting one. Her daughter had barely spoken a word to her since yesterday, but gossiping behind her back would hardly help Nymphadora feel any more trusting of her mother. Andromeda shook her head. "What you've done today is more than sufficient, and I'm sure it's hard enough for you to talk about her like this, after everything she's done. I can't ask more of you."

Her sister fixed her with a determined look. "I'm serious, Meda. I want to help, what do you need? Someone to talk to about it? Someone to tell the rest of our family? I'm even willing to meet Princess Prissy, if that helps, and I'll throw in the bonus of trying not to call her that to her face. No guarantees on that last one, though."

"What?" Andromeda drew in a breath, the shock drying the last of her tears. "Liz, you can't be serious! I'd never ask you to see her, that's just not fair."

"I'm deadly serious. If it helps you in any way I'd be glad to do it, obviously assuming you think it's safe."

Andromeda sighed, her heart sinking again. "Thank you, sister. I know how difficult it must be to offer that. But I very much doubt Narcissa would consent to it, and if I'm honest, the idea terrifies me. I don't think she'd dare hurt you now, but I still don't trust her enough to risk it."

"Fair enough." Lizzie's expression remained neutral, but Andromeda could tell from the slight dropping of her shoulders that she was relieved. "So. Are you planning on telling the rest of the family?"

Andromeda nodded, draining the last of her tea and setting her mug down. "Yes. Today, if I can."

"Want me to come with you?"

The offer was immediately tempting: Andromeda hadn't been looking forward to breaking the news repeatedly, and she'd missed Lizzie's company over the last year. "Only if you want to," she responded cautiously. "You don't have to."

"'Course I want to." Lizzie's face lit up with the grin that was so like Ted's. "Anything to put off mowing the lawn."