Act I: I Can't Believe I'm Doing This

Part 8

I'm curled up around a mug of tea (a nice, soothing chamomile blend to try and calm down a bit) just a few minutes after sending the letter to Andromeda. I don't recall what time she goes to sleep, but I'm sure it's still rather early given that Teddy is ten.

Ten. The thought makes me stop for a moment. Ten years down the line and time still feels like it's frozen. My world still feels trapped on that drawing room floor, some nights. Like I never really grew past it, I just grew around it. I still wake up in cold sweats more often than I'd like to admit, and despite the best efforts of every cursebreaker I could find, I'm still physically pained by that damnable slur. And even Bellatrix's name spoken aloud causes the reaction. I scoff, quietly, to myself. A permanent reminder of the witch who ruined my life.

No. She didn't ruin it, I remind myself. She slowed it down, gave it some road bumps to overcome. My trauma didn't ruin me. I repeat it, a mantra, until the shaking in my hands fades. Until the sour bile stops rising in my throat. I drink the rest of my tea in one gulp, ignoring the searing heat of it as it burns the acrid taste from my mouth.

"Waste of perfectly good tea..." Crookshanks meows in response, a little affirmative. It makes me smile.

I sit in silence for several more moments before I make myself stand up. I make my way to the cabinet I keep my tea in, intending to brew another cup of chamomile. The kettle is still just warm enough to steep a cup without having to reheat it, thankfully, and soon the soothing smell fills my kitchen.

Standing there, waiting for the tea to steep, I can't help but think through the events of the past few hours. Going into this, I expected Narcissa to be tipsy at most, if I'm honest. Draco certainly didn't make it seem like she was so far gone - although he didn't mention anything specific about her condition, now I think about it. I've known Narcissa for quite a while, and tonight was the first time I've ever seen her so... broken.

Even after the war, standing there on the losing side, she barely showed any emotion. Her friends - colleagues? - of the past decade or two lying dead or arrested around her. Even when Narcissa herself was arrested, she showed no particular reaction.

Months later, when her husband was sentenced to life in Azkaban - nothing. When Harry testified for her and got her two years of house arrest - nothing. The only time I ever saw her even react to any of it was at Draco's trial, where her eyes were misty with tears at the news that he would walk free.

Walking into the study and seeing her beyond disheveled was... shocking. Guilt gnaws at me. Did I cause that with my Silencio ? How badly did that affect her?

Being the one to hold her while she broke down feels like a slap in the face, now. I barely know Narcissa. That was so... private. So much more than I feel I should have ever seen, especially given that I caused it.

I need to do what I can to set this right. Help her back on her feet. Along the way, hopefully, I can repay her for all of this.

A loud rapping sound echoes through the flat - someone knocking. It's rather late at this point, so only a few people could be calling. I imagine it's some emergency at work - they always send Aurors instead of owls.

"Coming!" I grab my wand and slip it up my sleeve into its holster, then pull open the door. "Hello, what's the-"

As I open the door, all I can see is Bellatrix Lestrange standing in my doorway. My hand instinctively darts to my wand, but she grabs my wrist-

She speaks, but the tone is all wrong. There's no cruel edge, no disdain. "Hermione? You alright?" It's- it's Andromeda. All of the panic in my body fades to icy relief in an instant, and I almost collapse into her for comfort. I don't, but it's a close thing. She continues, softer, almost like she's scared to make too much noise. "Hey, I thought we were past thinking I'm her ages ago." Andromeda begins to push me into my flat, placing her other hand on my shoulder as we move.