Draco was running blindly, running as fast as his legs would carry him, but his legs felt heavy like he was wading through water. But he kept running, even as the flames— sentient, intent on catching him —continued to chase him down dark, endless corridors. He glanced back and saw that the fire was mutating now, forming a gigantic pack of fiery beasts; flaming serpents, chimaeras and dragons rose and rose again, roaring furiously and consuming everything in their path – chairs, treasures, flesh and bone burnt and extinguished, swallowed whole by fanged mouths, tossed high on clawed feet. Nothing was left behind; nothing but blackness. The fire was licking his skin, the sickly sweet aroma of burning flesh was filling his nostrils as the fire roared and swallowed him whole.
Tap tap tap.
Draco woke with a start at the loud noise, looking around his hotel room bleary-eyed. He was surprised to see an owl tapping at the window, desperately trying to get his attention to gain entry. Surprising as its appearance was, he was glad for the interruption as the same nightmare plagued him every night. Although the images in his head refused to wither even in the morning light. They persisted like this unfamiliar barn owl tapping incessantly at the window, demanding to be acknowledged. Draco jumped out of bed and opened the window and the owl hopped inside and onto the windowsill, extending its leg to present a letter to him. He untied the letter from its leg and the bird immediately took flight back out of the window, disappearing out of sight.
Sinking down onto the edge of the bed he frowned at the unfamiliar handwriting with a feeling of unease. He had hoped that his current whereabouts were well-hidden enough that nobody apart from his mother would be able to reach him. Evidently that was no longer the case. He couldn't think who would want to write to him – the few friends he had had at Hogwarts had too many of their own troubles to contend with to bother writing to him. It obviously wasn't a Howler, but it crossed his mind that the letter might be jinxed – he could only imagine the pile of hate mail that sat waiting for him unopened at the Manor.
Curiosity overruling caution, Draco tore the letter open and a piece of paper fluttered to the floor. Scooping it off of the ground he was surprised to find a photograph of a large white cottage he had never seen before. It had a grey-slate roof with green and red ivy climbing up the front of the house, surrounded by a small boulder wall and a rustic but well-kept garden with lots of plants and flowers. He checked the back of the photograph for more information and saw written in the same handwriting as the letter, The Mill, Lostwithiel, Cornwall .
He opened the letter and gasped when his eyes fell immediately on who had written it, then he began to read:
Dear Draco,
I know we have never met, but you know who I am. As my nephew I would like to request the pleasure of your company tomorrow afternoon for tea. We need to have a little chat. I have enclosed a photograph of my cottage so you are able to Apparate here directly. Be here for 12 o'clock sharp.
Kind regards,
Andromeda Tonks
P.S. Bring custard creams.
It was very short and direct, but Draco read and reread the letter just to be sure he wasn't seeing things. Although Andromeda had written saying it was a request, there was no asking about it – she expected him to be there. Rather presumptuous of her, mused Draco. And what in Merlin's beard were custard creams?
***
Draco hemmed and hawed about whether or not he was going to go. Even in the process of getting dressed to leave he was still undecided as to whether he'd actually follow through with this. He flattened out his black shirt and trousers and peered back at the gaunt figure staring back at him in the mirror. He had grown a little taller and a lot thinner in the last few months, his dark clothing doing little to hide his too-slim build. He had always been pale, but spending months trapped in the Manor had drained his face of what little colour it had held. The only colouring he had left in his face was the dark circles under his eyes. That and the smattering of white scars that peppered his once flawless skin, a remnant of the crystal chandelier that had shattered and cut his face during one of his altercation with Potter at The Manor. He thoughtfully traced his fingers along the small scars. They didn't hurt anymore, but he knew that he would stuck with them the rest of his life. He ran a hand through his white-blond hair which immediately fell back into his face. He looked dreadful, but there was little he could do about it.
He pocketed the letter and looked at the photograph of the large cottage, concentrating hard on where he had to go. The next moment he was standing on a gravel path outside of his intended destination. Draco shielded his eyes from the bright spring sunshine and turned towards the cottage. It was much larger than it appeared in the photograph and he noticed that there was a large pond on the other side of the garden. He walked up the gravel path towards the front door, which was painted egg-shell blue and had a couple pairs of wellington boots sitting next to it. His stomach was churning horribly, now wishing he hadn't come. This wasn't a good idea at all, but his legs continued to carry him all the way to the front door. He knocked on it lightly— light enough that he half-hoped that Andromeda wouldn't hear it and he could leave —but a moment later the door creaked open and Draco blinked.
For a moment Draco thought he was in a nightmare and his Aunt Bellatrix was before him again, back from the dead to haunt him. But on closer inspection, this woman was definitely not his Aunt Bellatrix. While both women were tall and sported the same patrician beauty common to the Black family, this woman had light brown hair where Bellatrix's had been black, and her eyes did not glint with madness but were wide and kind.
"Draco," said Andromeda. "Do come in. Wipe your feet on the mat, please."
Draco did as he was instructed and followed her inside, closing the door behind him. The house was much lighter and brighter than the Manor— the walls were painted white and pastels, covered in a mismatch of colourful paintings of flowers and landscapes of the countryside and photographs of family and friends. Photographs of a beaming Nymphadora at various ages waved enthusiastically at Draco, who tried to avoid her gaze. They walked into a bespoke farmhouse kitchen which had a large oak table in the centre of the room. It was very warm and welcoming, but Draco felt very out of place in somewhere so homey. Andromeda beckoned him to take a seat at the kitchen table while she put on the kettle and grabbed two mugs.
"Tea?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied quietly. "Thank you."
"Did you bring the custard creams?" she asked, rummaging through a cupboard. Draco pulled a box from out of the pocket of his robes and sat the biscuits on the table. Placing a steaming hot cup in front of him she said lightly, "Tea is always better with a biscuit, wouldn't you agree? I didn't have time to go down to the shops and get any myself, not with Teddy to contend with."
Draco frowned. Teddy? Not wanting to appear ignorant he nodded and said, "You wanted to see me about something?"
Andromeda took a sip of her tea before she spoke, "I'm not sure what your mother has told you about me, but since this is the first time we're meeting, you'll obviously have guessed that there have been some issues between us for quite a long time."
"Yes, she told me that you haven't spoken in quite some time," said Draco.
"Twenty-five years," Andromeda responded after a moment's consideration. "Yes, I suppose that is quite some time now. Does your mother know you came to see me?"
"No," said Draco.
Andromeda smiled sadly. "I thought not. She wouldn't be too happy about you being here, but I think you already knew that." Draco took a sip of his tea and said nothing. Andromeda continued, "I'm curious Draco, where are you and your mother staying at the moment?"
Draco shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He wasn't inclined to share this information, so he decided to keep it vague. "My mother's in France. I'm staying in a hotel," he replied.
Andromeda nodded. "And what are your long-term plans?"
"That is none of your concern," he said coolly, but Andromeda didn't look ruffled.
"I've been made aware of the predicament you and your mother are in; the seizure of your properties and assets. And your wands."
"You and everyone else," Draco replied snidely. "My misfortunes are apparently worthy of the front page of the Prophet. Is that why you invited me here? To mock my family's failings?"
"Do you really believe that?" she asked with a slight frown. Draco's shoulders sagged.
"No," he admitted quietly.
The old Draco would have been armed to the teeth with snide remarks and put-downs in defence of himself and his family. Now though, he just had no fight left in him.
"I didn't invite you here to fight with you Draco, far from it," said Andromeda, then asked, "You know the circumstances of why your mother and I haven't spoken for so long?"
"Because you married a Muggleborn," Draco said matter-of-factly, like it was reason enough.
"Yes," confirmed Andromeda. "And for twenty-five years we went our separate ways. We raised our own families— I had my daughter Nymphadora. I know you two never met, but I'm certain you would have liked her. Everybody did. And for twenty-five years we were happy, and now my husband and daughter are dead. Your father is in prison. Your mother is gone. And you are without a home, friends or money."
"Alright, we've clarified that my life is shit, what's your point?" he snapped. Her words were sharp and to the point, and for a fleeting moment he saw the same harshness in her eyes that he so often saw in Bellatrix's eyes. But the moment passed and her expression softened again, "In light of everything that's happened, the grievances I have held these past twenty-five years don't seem all that important anymore. Nymphadora spent her entire life never knowing you— her own flesh and blood —because of a disagreement between myself and your mother. I don't want to repeat the mistakes of the past, Draco."
"You still haven't explained why I am here," said Draco, unsure of where this was going.
Andromeda rose to her feet, "I invited you here because I'd like you to meet someone."
Without further explanation she left the room, leaving Draco alone. The thought occurred to him that he could take advantage of her absence and leave now, but he remained rooted to his seat. Andromeda returned a moment later with something small wrapped in blankets.
"Draco, I'd like you to meet your cousin, Teddy," she said.
Draco stared.
"What?" he said sharply.
"Well, second-cousin really," she said leaning close to him so he could get a better look. "This is Teddy. Remus and Nymphadora's son."
Draco stared at the baby with growing horror. Of course, he had almost forgotten that Nymphadora and Lupin had had a child. It suddenly dawned on him the sheer magnitude of what had been lost— Potter hadn't just lost a friend, Andromeda hadn't just lost a daughter, this child was now an orphan. Just another victim of war.
"It's time to put old feuds aside," she stated, sitting next to Draco. "You never got the chance to know Nymphadora— and part of that is my doing, I accept that. But enough is enough. If the war has taught me anything, it's that life's too short to hold old grudges. You deserve the opportunity to get to know your family, Draco."
Draco was so lost in his own spiralling thoughts that he hadn't noticed Andromeda plopping the baby in his arms.
"What are you doing?" he asked in a panicked voice. He held the baby in an awkward position and the baby gurned and twisted in his arms.
"Introducing you to your cousin," said Andromeda unconcernedly.
"I—I can't," Draco protested, holding the baby out to her.
Andromeda simply scoffed. "Of course, you can."
"But what if I hurt him?" he asked.
Andromeda smiled at him and replied more gently, "You won't. Here."
She helped rearrange the baby in his arms into a more comfortable position, gently moving Teddy's head into the crook of Draco's arm so he could support his neck. Now in a cradled position, Teddy was able to look up at Draco more easily.
"You'll have to lean in close for him to get a proper look at you," she informed him. "A baby's eyesight is still a bit blurred when they're this young. Go on, introduce yourself."
Draco looked down at the baby, uncertain of what to do. The baby looked up at him with big brown eyes and sandy brown hair, the same colour as his father's. Draco leaned in closer and whispered, "Hello."
Teddy smiled, wide and toothless, and his hair turned white-blond like Draco's.
"Merlin," Draco exclaimed.
Andromeda chuckled. "Got his mother's gift as well. He changes hair colour ten times a day." There was a knock at the front door. Andromeda got to her feet and asked, "Probably the postman. Can you watch him for me for a few moments?"
Before Draco could answer she hurried out of the kitchen leaving him alone with Teddy. He sat looking at the baby, unsure of what else he was supposed to do. He had never held a baby before. He wondered how often his own parents had held him when he was a baby. He found it difficult to imagine his father doing menial tasks like bathing, feeding and clothing his son— those duties would have fallen to his mother. She was the one who spent time playing games with him and teaching him his lessons in the nursery. He fondly remembered his mother singing lullabies to get him to sleep.
Draco looked down at the small child with a growing sense of guilt; this little boy would never have the fond memories of his mother like Draco had of his— singing him lullabies, reading to him, holding him close when he was sad or angry or simply wanted a cuddle. Teddy's face screwed up and he became unsettled, making a choked, sobbing "owh owh" noise as he kicked out his tiny fists and feet.
"Shit," muttered Draco. He tried tickling Teddy's cheek and whispering, "Shoosh shoosh shoosh, please don't cry for Merlin's sake. Shhhh." But to no avail, if anything it was making things worse. Draco tried cradling the baby up and down and proceeded to sing quietly to Teddy. This time Teddy's cries died down, and he gurgled happily in response. Relief swept through Draco and afraid that if he stopped Teddy would start crying again, he kept rocking and singing, counting the seconds for Andromeda to return and rescue him.
When Andromeda eventually returned a few minutes later, she smiled at the sight; Draco was gently cradling Teddy in his arms, humming a lullaby she recognised as one her own mother had sung to her when she was little, and she realised Draco must have learned it from Narcissa. She watched a few more moments before sitting back down at the kitchen table.
"You're a natural," she mused, tapping her wand to her cup of tea, heating it up.
Draco shrugged. "He doesn't seem like too much bother."
"Ha! You say that now, but wait 'til he refuses to nap or he needs his nappy changed." She checked her watch and said, "Speaking of which, it's time for his nap now. Come on, I'll show you how to get him settled."
Once Teddy was settled in the nursery, Draco followed Andromeda out into the garden and she began pegging clothes onto the washing line.
"Come on Draco, help me out here," she said, giving him an expectant stare.
He looked at the basket of wet washing and scrunched up his nose, he had never hung up washing before. He wasn't about to admit that of course, so he tentatively picked up a damp tea towel and pinned it to the washing line, watching Andromeda out of the corner of his eye to make sure he was doing it right.
She inspected his handy work and nodded in approval. "Not bad for your first time."
Draco's cheeks flushed. Was it that obvious? But Andromeda's comment was more encouraging than disparaging, so he continued to hang up more wet washing, finding it strangely relaxing. He spent the remainder of the afternoon chatting to Andromeda while helping her with other household chores, all of which he was doing for the first time in his life. He figured he ought to learn as much as possible, now that he had no-one else to do it for him.
At dinner time she showed Draco how to feed Teddy. "Check the temperature of the formula on your wrist first before giving it to him," she instructed. "You don't want to burn him."
Draco sat in the living room with Teddy feeding him through his little bottle while Andromeda bustled about the kitchen sorting out dinner. They got Teddy settled again in his crib before sitting down to sausage casserole; the first real meal Draco had had in a very long time.
"I hadn't intended to stay so long," he said after he'd finished his second serving. "I hope I haven't been too much of an intrusion."
"Not at all," said Andromeda, waving a soap-sudded hand dismissively. "You've been a really big help today. I wouldn't have managed to do half of what I did today without you here. Teddy's quite a handful."
"You seem to be managing well enough," Draco noted.
Andromeda nodded sadly. "Well enough."
As Draco got ready to leave, she walked him to the bottom of the garden to his Apparition point.
"You know you can come back anytime you like to see Teddy," she said.
Draco nodded, "I'd like that."
"Come back tomorrow if you want."
Draco hesitated. "Perhaps."
"Good," she said lightly. "Bring some more biscuits, will you? Whatever you fancy."
She waved him off and headed back up to the house. Draco watched her a few moments before Apparating back to the same alleyway he'd left from that morning. It had been a strange day, but a pleasant one. The housework had been a bit of an eye-opener and he had a newfound appreciation for the work his former house-elves had put in over the years, although he would never admit that to anyone. Cleaning and tidying definitely wasn't his favourite thing, but he had enjoyed playing with Teddy. His feelings of enjoyment were immediately overruled by feelings of guilt; that it should be his mother Teddy got to spent time with, not Draco. He wasn't sure if he would go back tomorrow. He'd have to think about it.