A/N — Not much is known about Lysandra; she's mostly just a name on the Black family tree. Her one defining characteristic is that she is Cedrella's mother, making her Arthur Weasley's grandmother.

"Close your eyes," she whispered, a smirk twisting up the corner of her mouth.

"Why?"

"Just close them," she said, stepping closer and taking hold of his hands. She pressed a soft kiss to his lips and his eyes fluttered closed.

"What're you up to?" he asked, his breath ghosting over her lips, but he did as she asked and kept his eyes closed.

"Nothing," she whispered, leaning in for another, longer, kiss. She stepped back, letting their arms stretch out between them. "I don't want you to see me leave," she said, her words barely audible.

She dropped his hands, leaving them to swing uselessly by his sides, and turned quickly. He released a sharp breath.

"Wh— Lysandra?" He opened his eyes, but she was already gone.

…oOo…

It was much easier to return to her life than she had hoped; she had enough responsibilities as a wife and a mother to keep her busy, after all. Thoughts of him had to be just … pushed to the side in favour of other, more pressing, matters.

…oOo…

"Your husband will be pleased," her sister said blandly, straightening her skirt and brushing off imagined lint. "Perhaps now he might have an heir."

Lysandra shook her head, keeping her eyes trained on where her fingers were twisting together nervously. "I hope it's a girl."

"Why?" her sister asked, glancing over. "What use is another … oh." Lysandra met her sister's gaze, steeling herself against the disgust she saw there. "It's not that half-blood boy's, is it?" Lysandra didn't respond, but her silence was answer enough. "Get rid of it." The ice in her sister's eyes frightened Lysandra a little, though she would never admit to it, but she would never change her mind, either. Not on this.

"I can't," Lysandra whispered, dropping her eyes back to her lap, unable to hold her sister's angry gaze any longer.

"Why not?" her sister snapped. Lysandra glanced up briefly, but was quick to turn her eyes back to her lap. If looks could kill …

"He already knows," she mumbled, holding herself stiffly. And, with only a little more confidence, added: "Arcturus, I mean, not …"

"He knows it's not his?" her sister asked incredulously.

"Of course not! He'd—"

"Then don't tell him."

"But I —"

"If you drag this family down with you, I swear …" She left the threat hanging, but Lysandra was more than familiar with what her sister was capable of.

She nodded, smiling tightly. "I won't say anything," she said thickly, mouth trembled as she held tears at bay. "I wouldn't dream of it," she choked, giving another watery smile.

Her hand twitched as she barely managed to restrain herself from resting it protectively on her stomach.

…oOo...

If she'd favoured Cedrella over the years, who could really blame her?

The girl, though not as beautiful as her older sister — and later, her younger sister, too — was adventurous and stubborn and so very kind that Lysandra couldn't help but want to spend just that little bit more time with her.

And if Cedrella resembled her true father in both looks and personality? well, that was nothing to be held against her.

…oOo…

"Arcturus, please," she whispered, reaching out for her husband, choking back tears. "Don't do this."

"Don't — You want me to — She made her decision," he hissed, turning his back on his wife.

"But she's your daughter!" He turned his head, and from the look he sent her … "You know?" she whispered, her heart falling and her face crumpled as tears began to run down her cheeks. "How — how long?"

"I'm not an idiot, Lysandra," he scoffed. "But I raised her as my daughter, and I shall continue to treat her as such."

"You would abandon your own flesh and blood? Your daughter?"

"If she left me no other choice, yes," he said, voice even. "And Cedrella has left me no other choice."

"She's in love, Arcturus, don't you know what that's like?" she begged.

"Yes," he said, his face softening as he took a step closer to his wife. "And I will not take that from her."

…oOo…

The small, charred circle on the tapestry served as a painful reminder of what had happened that day, but Arcturus was right. Whilst they had lost a daughter, she had gained all she could possibly want, and Lysandra could not begrudge her that. After all, Cedrella was never meant for these strict family traditions.

That day was the first time Lysandra thought she might have loved her husband.

It was far from the last.