andyblacktonksâ:
The Lestranges. The thought of Bellatrix breaking out chilled her even more. What Lucius and Narcissa believed was horrifying, and she was afraid of what they might have done that Andromeda didnât know about, but Bellatrix had happily committed atrocities and she would again.
âI believe you,â she began to say soothingly, but then Draco continued, and her brow furrowed deeply. âYes. They would have loved youâŚâÂ
They would have loved him, of course they would have loved him. Narcissa would have been an excellent mother to him. Perhaps more indulgent of him, able to dedicate more time to him than Andromeda herself, with her greater wealth and her lack of being preoccupied with an older daughter and a mediwix job. Heâd be spoiled, probably. Happier, perhaps.Â
But this was about Draco and what she could do for him now, not about all the what-ifs of her being an unsuitable parent for her nephew. âThey would have loved you for you. Narcissa would have understood you.â Better than Andromeda would ever be able to understand himâshe tried and tried, but she knew she had failed before and would again despite her best efforts because she simply didnât have the experience that Narcissa did with Dracoâs process of becoming, even though she had proudly stood by both of them through it.
When he asked if they would change their minds, though, she sat back.Â
âNo,â she said quietly but firmly. âNo. I donât think thatâs possible, Draco.â She brushed her thumb over her wedding ring. âMy Ted was part of it, but my mind had begun to change even before I fell in love with him. I grew more and more out of step with the Black ideology while my sisters fell in line with it. They had a choice, Draco.â Her eyes were hard. âNo doubt theyâll take you back, but I think they would happily step over your uncleâs body to do it.â
Perhaps they were harsh words for a boy. But he had to grow up sometime, she told herself.
Draco allowed himself to indulge in the luxury of hope as Andromeda spoke her promises and reassurances once more, his hopes fluttering high and free as a bird unfettered -- but as she kept talking he realized that they had been doxies, not birds, with short stubby wings that could only lift so far and they all thumped back to the floor, heavy and gasping, in the wave of doxicide that was her no.
âOh,â Draco said, his voice very small and flat. He swallowed, trying not to let on how badly her words had shaken him -- how much the phrase step over your uncleâs body made him shake, how much the words no doubt theyâll take you back made his blood freeze in his veins, his stupid âpureâ blood that made him an outsider to his family, to this family, that made him valuable enough to his other family that they would want to take him...
âI -- donât,â he said, the words coming out in sharp, jagged bursts, as though he were speaking through punctured lungs or bouts of torture, âI donât -- want to be taken away, though. Taken back.â Back to what? Back to people, to a world, that he didnât know? A world that daily told him he didnât belong, that called him blood-traitor and the people he loved filth? There was no âbackâ for Draco there to go. All he knew was this, was here. âHow can...please, there has to be a way to...to stop that. Something I can do, something that will make them--â
The words strangled in his throat. To force them out, he had to let a little boyâs dream die; had to let go of the once-upon-a-daydream idea of the perfect imaginary parents swooping-in to put right everything in his life that had ever been a struggle, to chase away all the bullies and the bigots -- had to admit that those perfect parents didnât exist as anything but a daydream, and embracing the reality of them could only be done by sacrificing the parents he did have and know and love. He knew which he would choose, of course, between the two -- but it was still hard to kill the comfort of that daydream.
But better the daydream die than Uncle Ted. Draco took a breath and said, âSomething that will make them not want me anymore?â













