The Sugar Quill
Author: Arya (Professors' Bookshelf)  Story: Blood Remembered  Chapter: Default
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Blood Remembered

Author’s note: It’s been a little while since I had time to write fanfiction, but this one came to me one day.  I’m not responsible for any of the characters in this fanfic...blame JK Rowling for them and their actions. 


Blood Remembered


            The young woman appeared beside the pond with a faint pop.  She adjusted her emerald cloak and looked around at the small cottage in front of her.  The nearly-full moon provided just enough light for her to walk slowly around the pond, carefully holding her cloak up so it wouldn’t be soiled by the mud. 


            The cottage stood a little ways away, its yard littered with paint buckets and brushes, most likely remnants of their latest attempt to make this place look more livable than it actually was.  Narcissa paused to look at the house, so scruffy and unimpressive, wondering how her sister could live this life.


            Ted was gone, visiting his ailing Muggle parents.  Narcissa had heard Lucius laughing about it at dinner, the information coming from one of the spies the Dark Lord had planted around the family.  At the thought of these spies, Narcissa pulled her cloak tighter around her.  It was dangerous being here at this time, when Mudbloods and blood traitors were hated and hunted.  If Bella knew…


            Narcissa lingered at the door, noting the rusting hinges and chipping blue paint.  It was such a change from their childhood home, which was full of grandeur and history.  This house had history as well, but not one Narcissa cared to think about. Mother would sob if she saw where her second daughter was living now.


            Draco would be wondering where she was.  She’d put him to bed before leaving, but he always woke and called for her, wanting water or kisses or bedtime tales.  Lucius was gone yet again, doing as the Dark Lord bid him.  He wouldn’t be there to comfort Draco if he woke up with a nightmare. 


            She wondered suddenly about Andromeda’s little girl, the metamorphmagus whose birth had made Andromeda nonexistent.  Narcissa had never met the girl, but had seen her twice, hair pink or green or blue, always smiling and holding onto her daddy’s hand.  Her name, Nymphadora, showed just how little Andi had changed.  Draco had never met Nymphadora, and she doubted he ever would. 


            Narcissa turned away from the door, feeling foolish for even considering this visit. The danger wasn’t worth it, nor were the words she was sure to hear from Lucius if he discovered where she’d been.  She doubted Andromeda would receive her anyway.  They hadn’t spoken in several years, since Andromeda had married her Mudblood boyfriend.  To the rest of the family, she didn’t exist, and most days Narcissa joined Bellatrix in pretending that there had never been a third Black sister.  But then came days when Narcissa would find a small note or a letter from Andromeda, written during History of Magic or Transfiguration, and all Narcissa wanted was her big sister back.  But their lives were different now – they had both made their choices.


            “Cissa?  Is that you?”


            Narcissa turned back to the door and saw Andi standing there, dressed for bed in a thin nightgown.  She had a glass of milk in her hand and a children’s book, no doubt on her way to Nymphadora’s bedroom.


            “You shouldn’t be here,” Andi said.  “They’re always watching the house, you know.”


            “I know.”


            “Why did you come?”


            Memories, wishes, dreams?  How could she explain that while a name could be blasted from a family tree, memories and emotions could not be erased so easily?


            “I was leaving,” Narcissa said.  She pulled her cloak around her once more and gave a sneering look at the yard around her.  “I came to see where my sister was living…you call this a house?”


            “If you are only here to insult me, then you may as well leave,” Andi said.  “I have a book to read to a little girl.”  She shut the door loudly, leaving Narcissa in the cold. 


            With one last glance at the shabby house, Narcissa twirled on the spot, banishing all memories and emotions from the sister who had once been her friend but now must be her enemy. 

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