lololololol. So. Hey. Long time no see. Just been, you know, doing stuff. For two years. I'm sure any poor readers who still care about this alert will be absolutely livid to learn that not only do I not have the excuse of a sudden death, but I actually had this half written in my documents the entire time.
I know. I'm so sorry.
I saw someone favourite this the other day and I felt so terribly guilty, and was so surprised someone bothered to look at something which hadn't been updated in so long, that I finally forced myself to write. I have forgotten your username, but if you're reading, thank you.
Sorry again. It's the longest chapter yet, so I hope that helps a little.
Narcissa Malfoy drew her coat tighter around herself, looking around furtively. According to the Ministry official that had taken her to Andromeda's home, she was not meant to leave the building. Andromeda's London flat was too close to Diagon Alley to be a safe place to wander around without a disguise, but the frosty atmosphere in number 31 was too much to bear that night. She hadn't wandered far in any case, just around the corner, next to a small alleyway at the back of the block. Across from her was a muggle food shop, a fairly consistent stream of muggles coming and going from it despite the fact that it was gone midnight. From her place in the alleyway, she was barely noticeable; leaning against the wall, cast entirely in shadow, the chilly cloud of her breath the only sign of life.
It had been a number of weeks since Narcissa had come to stay with her sister, and the atmosphere had hardly improved from the first day. In all honesty, it was hardly likely that they were going to get on particularly well after 20 years of ignoring each other, but their reunion had gone even worse than Narcissa had expected.
"Hatfield Road, yes this is the place," said the Ministry woman, crumpling the parchment she'd been reading from and stuffing it back into her pocket. She walked them up the street at a surprisingly brisk pace for a witch of her age - she had to be over 90, at least. Narcissa looked up at the block of flats with an unimpressed sneer - she knew her sister had married a mudblood, but she hadn't realised he'd been so poor. The entered the lobby after the Ministry witch had entered some kind of code into a number pad next to the door, and took the slightly unstable lift up to the 3rd floor. The hallway on the 3rd floor was not quite as dilapidated as the lift had lead Narcissa to expect, but was still a place that, in her old life, she wouldn't have set foot in. But, unfortunately, this was not Narcissa's old life. The old witch took the parchment out of her pocket again, checking the number before knocking on number 31.
The door opened after only a few moments and there, unmistakably, stood Andromeda Tonks née Black. She looked so much like Bellatrix, even more so than Narcissa remembered, and yet at the same time she couldn't have looked more different. Dromeda's dark hair was smooth and pulled into a long, neat-looking plait. She wore glasses now, with dark pink, square frames, which softened her face considerably. She was also more plump and healthy-looking than her sister - Bellatrix's many years in Azkaban had left her waxy-skinned and bony. Before Narcissa could do more than assess her appearance, Andromeda spoke.
"I've invited you to stay here because I was asked to, and because of what you did for Harry. I don't forgive you and I don't want to hear your reasons, thoughts or excuses about what you have done and what you have allowed to be done, to me or to anyone else. Is that clear?" Despite looking much kinder than Bellatrix, Andromeda's voice in that moment was just as cold.
"I certainly didn't come here looking for your forgiveness, Andromeda," replied Narcissa scathingly.
"No, you came here because there is nobody else who would volunteer to have you in their home. Get used to being seen as the scum you've always treated others as, sister; I can't say it wasn't a long time coming."
They had hardly spoken a word since then, except for short, clipped answers to necessary questions. Andromeda was devoting most of her time to looking after her grandson, Teddy. Narcissa devoted nearly as much time to ignoring her great-nephew, and to pretending she didn't hear Andromeda sobbing in her room late into the night.
Suddenly, a figure walked past the shop Narcissa was staring at, and she was pulled from her reverie. They were walking quickly, and now no longer stood in the light cast from the shop window, making it harder to see them clearly, but for a moment, Narcissa had been sure it was - but no. That was ridiculous; she didn't know why she'd even thought it. Even so, Narcissa decided that perhaps she'd spent enough time outside, and began to head back into the flat.
It had been a few weeks now since she'd first come to Andromeda's, and Narcissa had yet to write to Draco. The thought had been on her mind for some time, but with their current tense relationship, she had been putting it off. She had no idea where he was staying, but the Ministry witch had assured her that it was safer this way. She was to send her letter to the Ministry, who would send it on to Draco. She wondered, idly, where they'd placed him; probably with some awful Order member.
Yes, she resolved; she would send a letter to Draco tomorrow. With that thought, she put the key in the door and the figure from her mind.
It had only been a matter of time, really, before Draco and Astoria had an argument that really meant something. That time had come during the first week of Astoria returning to her University classes.
Without Astoria, Draco had only himself for company, and he could think of nobody he would rather spend time with less. Before he'd left, the Ministry worker, Mervyn, had offered to bring him a few books, games, or anything else that might pass the time. However, Draco had never been much of a reader, and wizarding games usually required a second player, so apart from a deck of self-shuffling cards (he played Patience until he thought his brain would fall out) and a few spell books (which he had barely glanced at), Draco did not ask for much.
Tonight, Astoria was at a 'society', which she explained was a kind of hobby group, where people with a common interest met up to take part or discuss said interest, and to socialise. This usually lasted a few hours, but Astoria had said that sometimes the group went to the pub afterwards, so she might be back late.
As for Draco, wandering around the house aimlessly was his current occupation. As the house was so small, this was not taking a long time, and he was just considering whether reading The Standard Book of Spells Grade VI was more or less boring than a third tour of the living room when he heard a sharp tap at the window.
A small barn owl was looking at him through the glass, flapping its wings frantically as it tapped again at the glass.
Draco walked over and opened window at once, allowing the bird to swoop in. It immediately came to perch neatly on his arm, holding out its leg obediently. As soon as Draco had removed the letter, the owl flew over to the sink, took a swift drink from one of the almost-full glasses of water awaiting washing, and then flew over to a lampshade where it sat and began to clean its wings.
Draco looked down at the parchment now in his hand. 'Astoria' was printed across it in slightly spidery handwriting.
He knew he shouldn't, he really did. But it was bound to be from the Ministry (she'd had no other post since she arrived, except the muggle kind). If it was from the Ministry, it was probably about him. And if it was about him, he wanted to know what they were really telling Astoria, not what she'd tell him they were saying. The parchment was sealed, but it didn't look to be a magical seal, just normal wax. He could repair it as soon as he'd read it, she would never know.
Without pausing to consider further, Draco opened the parchment.
Asty
I know you hate me writing to you this way, but I had to get a message to you quickly, and the muggle post takes too long.
I'm sure you know already, but the War is over! It's over, Asty, and You-Know-Who was defeated, Harry Potter killed him! I was there! I know, I told you I would stay safe, but people were dying, and I had to do something. I couldn't just leave with those others who 'didn't want to get involved'. I had to stay with my friends, and try to help them, protect them. I guess I am a true Hufflepuff after all.
I'm fine, and all of my friends made it too, although Rebecca lost her younger brother, which really hit her hard. We're trying to support her as best we can.
But I have other news.
I'm not sure how to say this, but grandmother...she passed away last night. I know you hated each other, and I never liked her either, especially with how she treated you, but...she was still our grandmother, and it's strange to think that she's gone, even if I'm not sorry for it.
I'm really sorry to tell you all this in a letter, but I wasn't sure what else to do, and I didn't think you'd mind. Hope your university course is going well.
Love always,
Daphne
P.S.
Please let me visit you. If you won't let me visit you, then please at least write back to me, even if it's just to say you got my letter. Penny will wait until you give her a reply or tell her to go.
Well, it definitely wasn't from the Ministry. Just as Draco was starting a second read, he heard the sound of keys jingling, and before he could do more than turn around and clasp the parchment behind his back, the door was opening.
"I'm back! Didn't go for drinks in the end, there wasn't that many people there and they had essays so- are you alright?" said Astoria.
"I'm fine," said Draco a bit too firmly, trying not to flush.
Astoria frowned at him.
"Okay...you just seem a little-"
SCREEEEEEEECH
The owl chose that moment to make its presence known, flapping its wings in excitement.
"Oh, hey, Penny. That's my sister's owl..." said Astoria, looking confused.
Draco stood up straighter, trying desperately to think of a way to seal the letter while it was behind his back, and without speaking. Just as Draco was thinking of trying to sneak his wand from his pocket, Astoria looked over to him, eyes narrowed.
"You have it, don't you? The letter?"
"No!" said Draco unconvincingly.
"No? Why are you standing with your arms behind your back like you're from the 18th bloody century then? Put your hands out in front of you!"
Deciding that there was no point hiding it any longer, Draco held out the letter to Astoria.
"I wasn't snooping, I just thought it was a Ministry-"
Astoria's face flushed angrily.
"You bloody were snooping, it's got my fucking name on it! You actually opened it and read it, didn't you? You sneaky, conniving little louse!"
Astoria's hair, usually slightly untamed, was windswept from her walk outside, which coupled with her now livid face only added further to her wild, manic look.
"Don't worry, you're not that interesting, just your stupid sister complaining you won't let her visit. Why's that, scared to show her this dump?" sneered Draco.
Astoria looked as if she was about to burst a vein.
"How fucking dare you. HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!"
Astoria screamed, then marched up to him, and Draco was sure he was about to get a slap to the face. Instead, Astoria snatched the letter out of his hand.
"Next time you complain about this dump, Draco, just remember that I am one of the only people you know, or have ever known, who will even fucking talk to you right now. And that YOU asked to come here. Not me."
With that, Astoria stormed out of the house, letter still in hand.
Penny ho'd dejectedly.
It had taken a good while for things to go back to somewhat 'normal' between them again.
Draco was certainly not one for apologies, so if Astoria was hoping for one, she had been disappointed. Draco did, however, find himself doing things he wouldn't normally bother with. Rather than expecting Astoria to clean his clothes, Draco had decided to learn how to use the washing machine (okay, so he cheated a bit and used magic...but it hadn't broken it, so he decided that was as good as using it the muggle way).
He also looked after the owl, Penny, which ended up staying a couple of days with them. He only fed it a few times and gave it a better water bowl, but the owl seemed to appreciate it, often coming over to perch by him. At one point, Astoria commented that Penny must like him, because she never usually took to strangers, and after that the air seemed less tense.
Now, a week later, Astoria was at class again, and Draco was back to being bored. He flicked through the TV channels for the fifteenth time that day. It was almost twenty past two in the afternoon, and Astoria was due back from class any moment, thank god. Draco didn't think he could stand another moment in the tiny house on his own. He'd been initially reluctant to turn to muggle technology, but with little else to entertain him, he had found himself desperate for something to alleviate the boredom. So far, however, the television had done little of that. Whenever Astoria used it, she seemed to find a show that was at least mildly entertaining, but whenever he used it, there seemed to be nothing but dull shows where people sat around and talked about muggle politics. He'd mentioned this to Astoria, who had told him that it was because it was 'daytime telly' and that nothing good was ever on until at least 9pm. She also had a collection of longer shows on black, rectangular boxes called video tapes which she would sometimes put on, but Draco was definitely not comfortable enough with muggle technology to begin putting his hand into strange, whirring machines with unseen parts just to watch one.
Just as Draco was beginning his trip through the channels for a sixteenth time, he heard the lock start to turn, and he tried not to look to eager to see Astoria as she stepped through the door, her curly hair in wild disarray from the strong wind blowing through the doorway. She was wearing a pair of dungarees over a long sleeved, pale pink t-shirt, and her large green backpack was slung over one shoulder.
"Hi!" she said cheerfully, a large grin on her face.
"Good day?" said Draco, as he watched her shrug off the heavy backpack and drop it next to the sofa.
"Brilliant. Got one of my essays back today, got an 82 for it! Couldn't believe it!" she said as she sifted through her bag, before brandishing what he assumed was the essay in question.
"Oh, er, well done?" said Draco.
Astoria looked up, realising that she was probably talking nonsense to Draco.
"82 means good. Like, very good- over 70 is in the top tier for marks, called a First. 82 is extremely good, like they hardly ever give a mark that high."
"Oh! Wow, that's...that's great. Really! You must have, you know, worked really hard," said Draco.
"I did!" said Astoria, grinning.
It was then that Draco realised that he had no idea what Astoria studied. Although they had talked many times over the last few weeks (save the last), their interactions generally stayed at a very surface level; they talk about general day-to-day goings on, whatever programme Astoria was showing Draco on the television, or, rarely, a spell or enchantment Astoria wanted Draco to recreate as it was something she 'missed' from the wizarding world. However, they never talked about the meaning behind these things; both Draco and Astoria had their own reasons for remaining aloof, and this meant that their conversations were generally kept on the light and impersonal side. Something about her happy demeanour today, though, as well as his own curiosity, made Draco feel bold enough to ask more.
"What is it that you study then?" he asked, and Astoria looked up at him, clearly surprised that he had taken any interest in her muggle life.
"I study Psychology," she said, and upon Draco's blank look continued, "It's a bit hard to explain, but basically it's the study of the mind."
"Oh," said Draco. He didn't know what he expected Astoria to study at the muggle university (ekeltricity?), but that certainly wasn't it. Clearly, however, it was something which Astoria was very keen on, as she continued without prompting:
"It's really interesting, actually, especially for someone like me. There isn't any equivalence at all in the wizarding world, that I know of. It just doesn't seem to be something that any great thought has gone into; there are many, often instant cures for various physical ailments, but really in terms of mental health the muggles are decades ahead. What happens to wizards and witches who have a mental illness? We bung them in St Mungos, mostly. But are they getting better there? Well if it's organic, perhaps we can fix whatever bit of brain has been damaged, but if it's a curse, usually not. There are a few potions that help re-balance brain chemicals, so that can help. If it's a bit of errant magic, the Reversal Squad might be able to fix it. But even that doesn't work half the time; I remember a few patients back when I was a kid that my dad told me about, had messed up a memory charm, and it was so bad they never managed to fix it. So what happened? Well, they were cared for, certainly, but nothing more. There wasn't a magical solution, so that was that. Psychology is all about figuring out the why and the how. Why does someone think the way they do? How can we understand it? And how can we begin to change those patterns of thinking, or teach them new or alternative ways to improve their lives? There's so many schools of thought, from the more chemical-based to the physical to the entirely talking based, and new ways of working are being invented all the time."
Astoria paused, looking over at Draco, whose face must have suggested he was completely lost, as she added,
"Sorry, I must be boring you, rambling on like that."
"No, that's okay," said Draco, who felt compelled after last week's disaster with the letter to try to keep a more positive conversation going. "Your dad used to work in St. Mungos, didn't he? Is that part of why you wanted to study...psyology?"
"Psychology," Astoria corrected, "And yes, actually, he did work on the mental health ward for a while, and I remember how frustrated he used to get, that he couldn't help them more. That and...well, you know..."
Shit. How could he have forgotten? Had he managed to put his foot in it again?
But Astoria didn't seem upset with him, although changed the subject the next moment.
"Well, I'd better get on and make myself some lunch, haven't had time to eat yet, and I have a society thing later. Did you want anything?"
"Oh, no, I've had something," said Draco quickly, pointing to his empty plate. It was just a simple meal of chicken and chips, but it was by far the most complicated he'd ever ventured to get with the oven.
"Okay, no worries," said Astoria, getting up to go to the kitchen.
So far, Astoria hadn't commented on Draco's increased independence, which on balance Draco was glad of. Just because he was possibly trying to impress her, didn't mean he wanted it acknowledged.
"Anything on?" she called as she began making herself a sandwich.
"Not really. I think it's called...Jerry Springer?"
"Oh, that'll do. It's crap, but it's fun to laugh at the idiots on there," said Astoria, sitting herself back down with her sandwich in hand, "I mean look at that guy. He looks like someone messed up trying to transfigure him into a lizard!"
Draco couldn't help but snort at that.
"Better looking than his wife though. Or is that his sister?"
"On this show, Draco? Just pray she's not both!"
So for the next half an hour while Astoria ate her lunch, they joked at the TV contestant's expense, getting more wild in their accusations and stories until Astoria nearly choked on a crisp after a particularly biting comment of Draco's, which he declared a win.
Afterwards, Draco realised that he hadn't laughed so much with anyone in a very long time.
I know it was a bit choppy, but I thought I'd better post it before I decided on another unexplained 2 year hiatus.
I don't plan to do that again, but obviously no guarantees. I am having an awful time at work atm, tbh, and idk if that will mean I write more or less. Could go either way.
I won't ask for anything because I deserve no reviews for leaving you hanging and then giving you this half-baked nonsense. I just hope it was good-ish.
