The last straw came when Andromeda, despite all the hurt and humiliation she had caused the family, still decided to send them an invite to her wedding in a Muggle church. It was as if she was taunting them, flaunting her treachery for all to see, delighting in her dirty, shameful transgressions, parading her sins.
It was at that time that Narcissa wrote one final letter to her sister, begging her to see the light and turn from her mistake before it was too late—
"I'm sorry Mrs Malfoy," Ron Weasley interrupted at this point. "But do you realise what a sanctimonious piece of shit you are?"
Narcissa was immediately taken aback. She looked like she had been hit with lightning, but quickly composed herself.
"With all due respect," Hermione began, "I must agree with Ron, but in kinder words. I cannot stand for your blind loyalty to unquestioned values and it is my sincere hope that you will one day accept your sister's decision and be reconciled with her."
Harry nodded in agreement. He could not tell what Narcissa was truly feeling, for a socialite of her experience could effortlessly don any mask.
There was a sudden frostiness between them. No one dared to speak any further.
"I regret that I shall have to put an end to our interview," Narcissa concluded brusquely. She called for the house elves to show them their way out. Hermione's brows furrowed. She looked like she had more to say, but decided against speaking.
The house elf led them to the drawing room, where she began to prepare the fireplace. Hermione looked around, as if checking that Mrs Malfoy was not within earshot.
She leaned down and asked the house elf if she was in paid employment.
"Oh yes!" Tippy, the house elf, replied, nodding with a wide-eyed expression. "Mrs Malfoy pays us well. Mrs Malfoy doesn't want us running off to other households, you see. Tippy also gets one day off per week." Tippy smiled distantly to herself, as if thinking of what she would do on her next day off.
Ron looked at Hermione with a sly smile. Hermione grinned at him in turn, as Tippy handed them the Floo powder and they headed into the fireplace.
...
There was a knock, hesitant at first but then surer, like a quick rap. Andromeda Tonks opened the door. She had been waiting for the delivery of drawer dividers so that she could get Teddy's socks organised. She had spent the whole of yesterday organising her bookshelves by genre followed by alphabetical order and was hankering for more sorting to do.
Standing at her door, however, was Narcissa Malfoy.
"Andie," Narcissa began, calling her by the nickname she forbade Ted to use ever since she stopped being their Andie.
Andromeda stared coldly at Narcissa. "What do you want?" she demanded.
"I'm sorry," Narcissa began. "I'm here to apologise."
"I don't want your apology," Andromeda replied. "I don't need your apology."
"I know," Narcissa breathed, seemingly holding back tears. "But I need your forgiveness."
"And what if I don't want ever want to forgive?"
"Andie," Narcissa begged. "I can help you." With a small gesture she indicated the humble furnishings of her home.
"Go away," Andromeda replied. "If you think you can come here and throw money at us to assuage your guilt you are certainly not welcome."
Narcissa's lower lip began to tremble. "It's not my guilt I want to assuage. You could do with help, Andromeda, and I could start by being a decent human being."
Andromeda looked at her younger sister and shook her head with a wry smile. "I'm not taking your money," she repeated. "You could do with being less presumptuous."
Cissy nodded meekly. "How can I make things right again?" she despaired, her voice barely above a whisper. "You know our family is dead. We're the only ones left. All we've ever done by insisting on our purity is to secure our own extinction."
Andromeda looked at her. For a long while there was a silence between them as they each decided what next to say. Andromeda looked like she was about to close the door on Narcissa, but against her better judgment she threw it open.
"We could start by having tea," Andromeda said. "Sister."
...
What is really important about human beings is the fact that they are each a unique nexus of relations with others—therefore, no one could ever be considered exactly equivalent to anything or anyone else. It is only by the threat of violence that one can tear people out of those endlessly complicated webs of relationship with others that render them unique.
—David Graeber, Debt: The First 5,000 Years, Chapter Seven – Honour and Degradation