Oh, goodness. Yeah, I'm sorry about the huge updating delays, again… In my defense, I've been writing a novel, translating, and being almost entirely stolen by another fandom, so… yeah. I'm sorry I'm neglecting this story, and I hope that whatever updates I can still offer remain satisfactory somehow. Thanks a million for anyone who's still sticking to this story!
Dedicated to The Hapless Quill, Hearts' number one cheerleader. Sorry I failed lamentably at updating for your birthday, dearie and thanks for being so very understanding!
Happy New Year to everyone! The Blacks don't care for common Muggles like the lot of us, but I'm sending lots of hugs and love all around. Chapter title is from the song by As Animals. I'll shut up now.
Narcissa edged at the top of the staircase of the 12, Grimmauld Place, one hand gripping the banister.
Her sister came striding around the corner, nodding as she saw her. "They are still in there lecturing Sirius one last time," she announced. "Not quite sure what good it'll do. He needs to have some sense beaten into his head, but by Merlin, in his place I'd be tired sick of them all at this point."
"Too bad uncle Alphard couldn't make it for Christmas," Narcissa said, sighing.
Bella grimaced. "I know."
Gripping her sister's elbow, she proceeded to drag her back up the stairs, to the latter's astonishment. "Oh, be quiet," she threw over her shoulder. "I told you, they won't be done so soon. And we have things to be discussing."
She pushed her back into her room, ducked around the truck that awaited to be fetched by the house-elf, and collapsed onto the bed, peering up at her sister. "So," she said. "Those two days? I barely had a chance to talk to you at the ball, you arrived with the Malfoys, all but part of their little clique, and spent the whole evening on Lucius' arm."
"I enjoyed myself a lot," Narcissa replied, refusing to blush. "I hope you had a similarly good time—and do not pretend you had no occasions to talk to me the next day."
Bellatrix snorted. "I was sleeping."
"Not the whole day, I should hope."
"In this household, certainly not. They make me feel like a teenager again."
"Well, if you'd brought your husband…" Cissy started, but Bellatrix cut her off:
"You know very well why I'm keeping him away, Narcissa. Busy as they are with Sirius, everybody seems to have forgotten they meant to keep fussing over me until I changed my ways, and I won't be the one to remind them. Now, don't change the subject, please. The Malfoys."
"Are perfectly agreeable and make me feel most welcome."
Bellatrix groaned. "Beyond welcome. I was worried you'd forget you weren't going home with them, and that Father would have to come and claim you back. The little gang of blondes appeared to get along perfectly."
"Abraxas was simply delightful. And I used not to be so comfortable around Circe, but I believe that we might be getting accustomed to one another. She certainly seemed warmer to me."
Bellatrix squeezed her eyes shut and Narcissa slapped her on the shoulder. "That is a good thing. Could you even pretend to be happy for me—no, wait—pretend not to be so spiteful and acidic?"
"I'm afraid I couldn't," Bella bit back, then sighed. "Oh, I don't know. I do want to be glad that things are going well for you—but the Malfoys…"
"Well, what is wrong with them?" Narcissa exclaimed, with a little more fire than she had first intended. "They are most pleasant people!"
"Yes, Cissy, they're pleasant, I'll give you that. I do not feel they can be trusted, however," Bellatrix pointed out. "I wouldn't rely on Lucius at all."
"Quite all right, since I will be the one relying on him. I wish you would listen to yourself! Are we not Slytherins? We know how to defend our interests and look after our own. That is what the Malfoys do, just like us and every other deserving family. Should I ever become bound to them, that is what I'll do for them and vice versa."
"Do not patronize me, Cissy," Bella said dangerously. "I am well aware of all that, and still I do not trust them."
"Well, you don't need to mock them or attack them in my presence," Narcissa responded in as composed and dignified a manner as she could achieve. "I would appreciate it if you could refrain from doing that in the future."
The corner of Bellatrix's mouth twisted. "I'll try," she said abruptly, and rose from the bed.
"You don't need to go."
"They might be done by now," her sister pointed out. On the doorstep, she called over her shoulder: "Do remember that it is for you I am still here in the first place."
"Yes, I know that." Narcissa stepped out of the room after her, and reached to catch her hand in the dimly lit corridor. Her sibling turned back in surprise, but did not comment.
At the foot of the stairs, they found Regulus waiting with an uneasy look on his face—but as Bellatrix had foreseen, the elders were indeed filing out of the great drawing room and they soon could all proceed with their departure. Narcissa had to suppress a wince at Sirius' grim expression. She wished she had more time to catch the two brothers alone, give them a bit of reassurance or relate to them somehow, but Sirius ducked around her as she made to stand by him, and Regulus remained equally elusive, lost in the group their whole family formed. Her only chance at closeness came at the time of hugging him goodbye—an accepted interlude, but one that should not be made to overly linger.
"Next term you'll be with us," she told the young boy, and he actually smiled.
"Quite right," he whispered. "Thanks." Then he returned to his parents' side, and Cissy briefly embraced hers one last time, squeezed her sister's hand and rolled her eye at the latter's bored expression, before she turned away to board the train with Sirius.
Her gaze flitted across the platform, and caught the Malfoys, small and elegant group, standing out from the crowd. Her eye met Lucius' and the latter gestured her forward. She had a moment's hesitation; but it proved vastly sufficient for Sirius to slip from her side and get lost among the throngs of students without so much as a second glance, and, suppressing a sigh, she made towards her boyfriend's family.
Although Abraxas and Circe had been on their leave, she was greeted warmly. As she stood before them, she felt Lucius' hand curl around hers and they stood, fingers entwined, a picture of unity. Then they made their way towards the train, and Narcissa felt like nothing could touch her now.
As long as she had Lucius, she would be prepared to face anything.
The letter arrived early in the morning.
Lucius had been kept by some task linked to his responsibilities as a Head Boy, and she was having breakfast while talking to Cassandra when the plain brown owl landed in front of her with a small thud. From the first glance, she deemed it unfamiliar and raised an eyebrow in bewilderment. She usually received mail from her relatives, or sometimes from other pureblood families in the occasion of a social event. None of them would have used such a common animal. As she watched, it hooted impatiently, and she had to reach out and take the scroll of parchment it was holding out to her.
The bird took off and Narcissa turned the letter over in her hands. Carefully, she undid the simple black thread that held it rolled up, and unfolded the parchment.
The familiar handwriting felt like a punch to her heart and lungs, drawing the strength straight out of her. The parchment almost fell from her suddenly limp fingers. She tossed it aside.
Narcissa sat back on her chair, breathing hard. "What is it?" Cassie asked in alarm.
She could not speak the name, not after so long. She merely shook her head, disbelief washing over her, failing to overcome the renewed ache. Cassie gripped her wrist and she squeezed back, the pressure like a lifeline. Oxygen. She needed to keep control.
Control.
"Cissy, what? You're scaring me," Cassie whispered.
"It's her." And no more words were required. Cassandra paled in shock and understanding, holding on tighter still, hard enough to hurt—but Narcissa didn't mind; her friend's grasp anchored her, to sanity and reality.
"Let's go," Cassie spoke urgently, and Cissy absently nodded. She followed, numb, taking the letter as they left, although she yearned to leave it behind.
Through the corridors they walked, Cassie leading her—all the way down to the dungeons and their dormitory, where Narcissa collapsed on her bed, feeling drained beyond words. Cassie sat beside her, cross-legged and quiet, and the letter lay between them.
Minutes passed.
Narcissa turned her head and met her friend's eye. She held her gaze for a moment, without a word. Then she sat up and read.
Narcissa,
I cannot not write to you. I know you will think this letter outrageous, perhaps you won't even read it. Or perhaps you will, if after all this time, you still miss me. I wouldn't know, sister. Still, I must write—not doing so at this moment seems impossible. Do thereon as you will.
I am pregnant. I've been suspecting it for a while, I simply couldn't really bring myself to face up to the fact. Eventually I did have to, as reality catches up with one in the end. My husband is beside himself with happiness. At first I could not feel much but astonishment and terror. It is a slow process coming to terms with this, but a child is growing inside of me, and I know I will love him or her with all of my heart. I wonder if that is enough. I never really pictured myself as a mother before.
In my dismayed state, I did not know to whom to turn and the faces of my late family were the ones I could not shake from my head. I am well aware, however, that, through my life choices, I have lost any right to your understanding, advice or support—to anything but your disgust at my current situation. Thus I made no such requests. Now that I find myself more secured, prepared, despite my anxieties, to welcome my child into this world and offer them the best of me, informing you of their existence is a pressing necessity I absolutely could not dismiss. I am going to be a mother, Narcissa. You will be an aunt—to a baby whose very existence, due to their father, must seem appalling to you, I know that. But still they will be born from my flesh, with Black blood running through their veins. I cannot but hope that the idea will not leave you cold.
I am also notifying Mother and Father. Not Bellatrix; although it kills me to find myself unable to share with her these news, I know that it would be absurd and even downright dangerous. The atmosphere of the current times often fills me with dread and frightful speculations, and I must first of all protect the safety of my new family. I can only hope that you, my sisters, are looking after one another. I also hope the boys are well and Sirius is happy in his first year at Hogwarts. Once more, those concerns are some I should have no right to word, but they are strong and present in my heart, always.
Goodbye, sister of mine. In this time of great change in my life, despite everything that happened, my love and thoughts go to you.
Your sibling still and forever,
Andromeda
Narcissa could not breathe as she reached the end of the page. Trembling, she pushed the parchment away and folded her arms across her chest, holding tight and trying to regain control, push some oxygen into her clenched lungs. Cassandra reached out and grasped her wrists, then embraced her, surrounding her with her presence, her warmth and perfume. Cissy drank it all in, seeking comfort and finding some, though fleeting, in her friend's support.
"What does she say?" Cassie asked eventually, quietly.
"She's going to have a baby." The words felt hollow, sounded backward, ludicrous, to the ear; it was a wonder she had managed to find her voice at all. Cassandra gasped in shock.
"With the Mudblood?" At once, her hand flew to her lips. "Goodness, Narcissa, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. That is probably the last thing you needed to be reminded of."
"Don't worry. I cannot quite see how it could possibly feel any worse than it already does." She tried a weak smile, but bravery failed to hold it in place.
"But why is she even telling you?" Cassandra paused. "I mean, it's obvious. It's quite obvious that some part of her, however small, is hoping to see you come back to her, get back in touch. But does she really believe it could ever happen? And to her, is that attempt worth hurting you all over again? It seems so… delusional."
Narcissa nodded weakly. "She also told my parents."
"Oh, dear Salazar."
"Well, it's all right. We will be all right. This doesn't change anything."
She clung to the words as though the mere action of stating them could turn them into solid reality, make it all better. Of course it changed nothing—and of course it fearfully mattered nonetheless. The image of Andromeda with a round, swollen belly, of Andromeda holding a child, appeared to have seared itself onto her brain. It offered striking contrast with the sister she had known, so independent, loath to see her freedom restrained by the duties of the family. But perhaps a pure, powerful family had smothered her, been too much for her to handle. Perhaps she had been yearning, all along, for the dirty and the decadent—sickly fascinated, believing that to lower herself would be to make herself entirely free, too repelling to be claimed.
No. No, she hadn't sought to debase herself, that was not Andromeda—but she had been caught in circumstances, and made her choice, the wrong choice. And now she was lost. This child was infamy: the thing that would make everything all the more certain and set in stone, make Andromeda forever forbidden, unreachable insofar as she hadn't been already. Narcissa told herself that and hated herself for still imagining the baby: tiny, pink, with the appearance of lovely innocence—so deceiving. A nephew or niece, born in filth, from filth, and that she could never, ever hold, or even see.
She stifled a sob. Cassandra leaned in to embrace her again.
She clung to her in return, heart pounding.
"Forgetting that, aren't you?"
Narcissa whirled around, arms overflowing with books.
Adrian Travers stood leaning against the wall of the common room, a smirk on his lips, pointing to a small heap of parchments resting at the foot of the table Narcissa had just been working at. The girl groaned. "Oh, no."
"Tables not wide enough for you?"
"Hardly. The amount of homework piling up on us and of books required these days just dazzles the mind."
"Got to admit that. Still. Getting behind doesn't help."
Narcissa glared at him. "I haven't been getting behind," she snapped, defensive at once.
"Well, I do see you sitting around with heaps of books all the time. Staring into space. Last time I checked, that wasn't how assignments got done."
"Travers. You are going to make me late for class," she growled.
He raised his hands in a show of innocence. "Easy, there. I'm not looking to just tease or bother you. We might as well stay friends, yes? That is what I wanted, at least. I always knew you'd end up with a society boy, someone from your world, and I didn't throw a huge fuss when I could feel you were slipping away from me, if you remember—nor after it was over, when you started dating Malfoy and wouldn't even look at me again. I'm not the enemy."
She bit her lip. "I didn't think you were. I'm just busy."
"Yes, that much is obvious. Busy enough to skip lunch, too. That's bad habits for you."
"I went to the Great Hall to grab a bite," she defended herself, blushing in confusion. "Those are old habits, if you must know. The past."
He nodded. "I'm pretty glad to hear that, Narcissa. Still. If you're so hectic, run to the dormitory to put aside some of those books. I'll help you carry the rest and those parchments there when you come back."
"I can ask Cassie when she gets here."
"Also very glad you made up with Cassie Burke, but she doesn't have to be your only friend in the world, for Merlin's sake."
She considered, and then, as her books really were putting a strain on her arms—damn the rules banning magic outside of class—she nodded and skipped away. Travers was still waiting at the same spot when she returned, and he leaned away from the wall and gave her an easy grin.
"Well, that's better." As she was setting the rest of her books on the table to grab the parchments, he stepped closer and started helping her arrange them. "You wouldn't need those but for pretty late assignments," he pointed out. "And you don't have to carry them around if you work in the common room."
"I'd rather not spend too much time running back and forth from the dormitory."
"That hectic, then."
She pulled a face at him, and he hefted a pile of the books into his arms. "Let's go, lady."
To her relief, they walked part of the way in comfortable silence. Only as they were nearing the classroom did Travers speak again: "Well, I can only wish you good luck in managing everything. One can see you really don't have a mind to working these days."
"Thanks, I suppose," she retorted, "but I am managing fine. Doing my best."
"Easy to see you're worried. With your Malfoy being so busy all the time, and all." He clicked his tongue. "I get why you'd have a hard time keeping focused, overall. Thanks goodness the pranks all but stopped, too, that really was a strain."
Cissy frowned. "Lucius is a Head Boy," she replied with a touch of ice in her tone. "And a seventh year. I don't see how his being very busy could make me worried. If anything, we understand each other's obligations all the better."
He threw her a quick glance. "Right," he grunted. "Won't mention it."
"Mention what?"
He kept staring straight ahead, neglecting to answer. "Mention what?" she repeated more loudly.
He winced. "Oh, stop it. I just thought you could have been worried, and—and you seemed to have become pretty dependent on him lately. Oh well, might just be my slightly bitter point of view, but you were always hanging out with him, looking for all the world like you couldn't imagine needing anyone else… and now that he's going to leave the castle soon, he spends his time conspiring with people here and there, working his… web of contacts, you could say. Anyone could wonder what he's up to. We live in a troubled world… Having many acquaintances can sure lead you many places." He trailed off.
"I don't understand what you are trying to say, Travers," she spoke coldly.
"I didn't mean to tell you anything, I thought I was just mentioning something you were already aware of." He paused. "You know, just an odd thought. Slytherin circles are a lot about contacts, and that boyfriend of yours knows a lot of people. Younger students he took under his wing, and older ones still, I wouldn't doubt. But that's none of my business. If you're not concerned, then you probably have no reason to be." He wasn't looking at her face.
"You are talking in riddles."
"Don't pay attention, then," he grunted. They had reached the classroom, and he dumped her pile of parchments on a desk. "Don't mind me. It's not like I would know exactly what a pureblood man and their bunch of acquaintances would have to say to each other. I don't run with the same crowd. Could very well be getting the wrong idea entirely."
Narcissa shook her head, quite entirely puzzled. "I'm still not sure what you are trying to warn me about."
"Once more… you would know much better than I would. Sorry. Shouldn't have said a thing—I wouldn't want you to think I'm spilling nonsense about Malfoy to get you back." He laughed bitterly.
"I think you're just concerned. Mostly. Now, what about is another question."
He cracked a smile. "You got that right. It's not like I'd have my chances anyway."