Andromeda’s mother rarely had Andromeda for tea. Before Andromeda’s father had been killed in a duel, she hadn’t had her over for tea at all.
Druella Black was something of a complex woman; she loved all of her children equally, regardless of what they had done. She didn’t care that Bellatrix had tortured two Aurors into insanity — she just missed her daughter. She loved her granddaughter, Andromeda thought, but didn’t like that Ted was a Muggle-born. In fact, she often would call him a “Mudblood” to Andromeda’s face, which always ended in Andromeda grabbing Dora’s hand and storming out, not showing her face for another year or two.
But Andromeda believed Lucius and Narcissa would throw Druella under the Hogwarts Express if it suited their needs, so she maintained contact.
“You should really talk to your sister,” Druella said as Andromeda was getting ready to leave. It had been a surprisingly cordial visit — and now, Andromeda thought she knew why.
“You told Narcissa not to talk to me twenty-five years ago,” Andromeda reminded her.
“It’s all in the past. I’m worried about her. She’s been saying things.”
“What kinds of things, Mother?”
Druella paused. “How they have reason to believe something great is coming again. That they may be needed, but there might also be a terrible price to pay. Begged me not to question her further, or tell Lucius she said anything.”
Andromeda’s worst fears, relayed by Sirius, were beginning to unravel in front of her. “I see. Well, you’re proud, I imagine.”
“I’ve already lost one child to the Dark Lord, Andromeda. I cannot lose another.”
“What am I supposed to do, reach into her heart and tell her she’s a good person deep down inside?” Andromeda snorted in disgust.
“I don’t care what you do. Just do it.”
“No,” Andromeda said shortly. “If Narcissa and her husband want to kill again, the last thing I need to do is regain her attention.”
“You caught her attention and made a stink when you married—”
“—and we’re done here,” Andromeda interrupted.
But something was bothering her. So Andromeda found an excuse to bump into Narcissa at Madame Malkin’s. She knew Narcissa still went there every Saturday afternoon; it was a tradition for her.
Sure enough, Narcissa was admiring herself in a mirror. Her face screwed into one of loathing when she saw Andromeda.
“Narcissa!” Andromeda said. “How fare thee on this fine afternoon?”
“Better than you, I would imagine,” Narcissa retorted. “How’s that Mudblood husband of yours?”
“He’s quite well. Just got a raise, in fact. How’s Lucius?”
“Wonderful,” Narcissa replied, but the pompous enthusiasm sounded very half-hearted.
“I saw Mother the other day. She seems to be doing well.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Narcissa said. “Her heart hasn’t been so good, ever since you left—”
“—cut the owl dung, Cissy. You can’t still use that one after all these years.”
Narcissa rolled her eyes. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have—”
“—nowhere to go. You’re usually accompanied by lady friends, are you not? Where are they today? Too scared to be seen with you in public?”
Narcissa froze.
“Mother told me you’ve been anxious,” Andromeda continued. “I certainly hope you’re thinking things through.”
“I haven’t any idea what you’re talking about.” There was tension in her voice, however.
“A lot of people have had to make certain choices,” Andromeda said. “Choices they thought were in the past. And it still can be in the past. Some things come first... like family. Family that can forgive and help you, if there’s something to be — feared.”
If Narcissa was surprised by what Andromeda was implying, Andromeda was even more surprised to hear herself saying it. For a minute, Narcissa looked as though she was actually softening — but her face quickly hardened back into a stony expression.
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Narcissa said.
“You have a son, do you not?”
“I do, as a matter of fact. Top of his class.”
“Funny, a friend of mine taught at Hogwarts for a spell, and he never mentioned Draco as one of his exceptional students.” Calling Remus Lupin a “friend” was stretching it, she’d only met the man on a few occasions, but Narcissa didn’t need know that.
Narcissa’s hand was toying with her wand.
“But that wasn’t my point,” Andromeda added. “Draco can be protected, if you play your cards right. By some, at least. He won’t be by all. No, I see him being put to good use.... very good use... by certain hands. He’s under the nose of Potter and Dumbledore, after all. The two people some want gone for good.”
“If he’s asked to do anything, which is most unlikely, he’ll —”
“—still be a teenage boy, up against the best of wizards. When that happens, do you think anyone will care about his youth? No. Nobody will give a damn. They’ll see him as a pawn whichever side they’ve taken.”
Narcissa’s face was pale.
“But of course,” Andromeda added with a forced laugh, “we both know this is some silly misunderstanding on Mother’s part. Or at least, I hope so. I’d like to think if it weren’t, you would do what was best for your son, who I assume you’re moderately fond of.”
“They’re ready, Mrs. Malfoy!”
Madame Malkin was re-entering from the back of the shop, holding dress robes. Andromeda smiled at her sister politely and exited as smoothly as she had entered.