Statement of Importance: I do not in any way support JK Rowling or endorse her views. I don't support her antisemitism, transphobia, misogyny, ableism, racism, or any of her other bigotry. She is clearly a cruel person, and I will never support that. I do not consume any new HP media or spend any money on any of her works, and I urge everyone else to also not support her. Do not give her any more money. Don't even hatewatch any new HP releases.

Now that that's cleared up: I want to note that I intend this to be Canon Compliant.

This story is actually based on ideas, headcanons I've had for a while, but it took a long time to write actual fic for them, and only recently did I polish it up to the point of feeling it's ready to be actually published as a competed fanfiction.


The uncomfortable visit to return Draco Malfoy's wand — the one Harry had been dreading, but knew he ought to do it — goes better than expected. It helps that, after their trials, Harry had sent a letter to thank Narcissa Malfoy for her actions at the end, and that had led to a surprisingly pleasant correspondence.

It also helps that he doesn't need to return to Malfoy Manor. Malfoy Manor has been seized by the Ministry for the time being, with Aurors working through the evidence of the terrible deeds done there. Lucius Malfoy is in Azkaban, so Harry doesn't know or particularly care how he felt about losing the manor, but the remaining Malfoys, currently on house arrest in a smaller property, didn't seem terribly worked up about it, either.

Still, this was the first time Harry was seeing them in person since their trials. It made things nerve-wracking. He hadn't been sure what Malfoy—Draco's reaction would be, was prepared for it to turn into a fight, but Draco only said, "About time, Potter, took you long enough." After his mother gave him a look, he muttered a thank you, and quickly excused himself.

Harry had thought that would be the end of it, and was about to leave. But Narcissa had other intentions. She insisted he stay longer, that she would be a poor host otherwise. It was awkward and stilted, but he has to admit, the company and conversation had not been terrible.

Then she says she has something to show him. Something to do with Sirius.

If he wants to see it, she says.

Harry knew Sirius and Narcissa had been cousins, but that hadn't seemed to mean anything before. It certainly hadn't mattered to her back when they argued at Madame Malkin's, Harry thinks with a sudden anger.

...But perhaps things have changed. Andromeda told him that she and Narcissa have actually started talking, so Narcissa has clearly changed in how she feels about her sister. It is terrible what happened to Andromeda, losing both Ted and Tonks, with only baby Teddy left to her; it makes sense she was lonely and welcomed the company. However, Sirius hadn't had much to say about Narcissa when he was alive. It didn't seem like he had missed her. How important could whatever Narcissa have, be?

Still, he couldn't not say yes, if it was about Sirius.

He hadn't known what to expect, but it wasn't this.


Narcissa returns to the room after a few minutes, clutching a photo frame as though it was a thousand-year-old precious artifact, holding it face-down, before carefully handing it over to Harry.

Harry turns over the frame in his hands. It is beautiful, curling golden vines and leaves, untarnished by time. It's not the frame that's special, though; it's the photo inside.

A photo of Narcissa and Sirius, sitting together, somewhere outside. They're young, clearly teenagers, Sirius still strikingly handsome, and Narcissa looking carefree in a way he's never seen before. In the photo, Sirius leans over to Narcissa, puts his hand up to her ear, whispers something, and Narcissa bursts into laughter. Her eyes shine, and Sirius looks pleased with himself. Some more seconds of them looking at each other, smiling and laughing, and then it loops over.

"This was taken less than a year before he ran away," Narcissa tells Harry.

Harry was startled to see them... so old, to still be getting along like that.

He had never imagined. At first he'd just assumed they never got along. Then he thought it must have been only when they were little kids.

But they both looked so happy there.

"How old?"

"I was fourteen. He was fifteen. It was 1975."

Harry looks at the teenagers in the photo again. Remembering fourteen and fifteen. It feels so long ago. Fourteen, back when Sirius decided to live in a cave to be nearer to him. Fourteen, the last time before he watched someone die. Fifteen, when Sirius was in a home he hated. Fifteen, the last time Harry had hope of eventually getting to live with Sirius. Fifteen, when he died because of Harry.

Fourteen and fifteen were so young. He wonders what were Sirius's last times at his fourteen and fifteen. This photo is a reminder that there is so much he doesn't know about Sirius, makes him wonder about all the things he'll never know, because Sirius is gone, dead, and can never tell him. For a moment, he wants to destroy it, destroy the whole room like he did Dumbledore's office, back at fifteen. It's unbearable, feeling the weight of how much of Sirius he can never know.

But Narcissa was clearly there for a lot of it.

So instead, he hands the photo back to her, and says, "Tell me more about that time. What were you doing that day together? What was Sirius like back then?"

"Well... first, Sirius wanted to—"


Who was the one behind the camera that took the photo? Oh, their Uncle Alphard.

People are complicated. Family is complicated.

I fully admit I am a huge Narcissa fan, and I prefer interpreting her in a more sympathetic light. If that's not your cup of tea, that's fine, to each their own.

I just like how she's morally grey in ways that few characters in the series get to be, and I root for her potential to be better — I love the idea of Narcissa & Draco as mother and son, on a journey of self-improvement, together.

Cover image attribution to Kirsty Pargeter on the website Vecteezy ( d o t ) com.