Finding the Sun, 2/7 (Andromeda & her sisters, PG)
Summary: She was going back to her world, the Black world, for the last time.
< | two | three>>
II. In the room where women come and go
1 January 1971
“Cissa, have you seen my diamond earrings?”
“I have not,” her sister murmured, sitting cross-legged on the bed and studying the latest Daily Prophet, “but I know Mother gave them to one of the house-elves for polishing.”
Andromeda frowned. “Oh.”
“Bella is here,” Narcissa said, flipping the page of the newspaper.
“She is?”
“Mm hm. Mother is fussing over her and Rodolphus downstairs. Disgusting, really.” Narcissa eyed her, and added sharply, “Please do not make Mother angry: it would create a terrible mood for your party. Not now, Meda.”
Oh, Ciss, if only you knew… “Right,” she said coolly. “I’ll be ready soon.”
“Be sure you are. Aunt Walburga arrived half an hour ago, and Mother will be furious if anything goes amiss. Aunt still thinks Mother can’t run anything without her help: The Manor, a party, and certainly not us.”
Andromeda sniffed. “Hardly surprising, given Mother and Father’s history. It was a miracle Bella's wedding went as well as it did.”
“True.” Narcissa gave her a thin half-smile, and set the Daily Prophet aside. “I have a gift for you,” she announced.
“Cissa--”
“Stop it,” Narcissa interrupted, taking a deep breath. “Mother and Father are negotiating with the Malfoys for an engagement.”
Andromeda's heart stopped. It had long been assumed that eventually, she would marry Lucius Malfoy; that they were the same age and from the old pureblooded families was enough to convince the wizarding world that this marriage was a given.
“They're negotiating for me, not you.”
A slight pause. “You...” Andromeda frowned. “Cissa, how do you know--”
“Mother told me last week. Apparently, Mrs. Malfoy expressed a certain... distaste for you, and a preference for me.”
The air in the room expanded, and Andromeda breathed freely. “Do you know why?”
“Not at all. But if Deianira Malfoy says it will never happen, you can be assured it will not.” Narcissa examined her nails carefully. “I suspect it would have something to do with you and Lucius hating each other.”
That was true enough. “You are only fifteen,” Andromeda protested, feeling oddly revolted at the idea of Lucius Malfoy wedding her sister.
Her sister waved a hand carelessly. “Oh, it won't be announced for another few years. And Lucius has always been unfailingly courteous to me, so I don't mind.” She tilted her head, looking at Andromeda in a slightly puzzled fashion. “This is the way it is, Meda; the way it has always been. We marry for the family.”
“Except for Bella,” Andromeda said with a twisted smile.
Narcissa laughed shortly. “Except for Bella,” she agreed, as they both recalled the delight of their parents when their sister announced she was going to marry Rodolphus Lestrange. They had always known she would never marry at the family's bidding; it was just fortunate that she had fallen in love with someone rich and pure enough.
“I do not mind,” Narcissa said quietly, looking out the window into the gray afternoon.
Andromeda wondered if Cissa ever minded anything behind that immovable mask of hers, behind that gracious smile. She did not mind when it was Bella and Andromeda who went to Italy with Uncle Alphard, when Druella Black gifted her famous diamond earrings to Andromeda, when Aunt Walburga petted and praised Bella and Meda for their marks while she received merely an indulgent smile. Narcissa didn't seem to mind being the pretty one, the quiet one. Silence buys secrets, she once told Andromeda, quoting a Slytherin maxim, and secrets are power.
“I will marry Lucius when I finish school. But you...” Narcissa paused, taking a minute to give Andromeda a wistful look. “You will never marry at their whim. You and Bella have never been the sort to suffer constraints.”
You and Bella. There it was. You are so like Bella.
“I should go downstairs: Sirius is sure to be jumping out of his skin, and I won’t have him spoiling things for you.” Narcissa smoothed the front of her robes. “Promise me you’ll not try anything tonight?” Andromeda nodded, and her sister relaxed fractionally. “Good. You should hurry, because Mother expects you downstairs promptly at five.” She stepped over the piles of robes on the floor (raising an eyebrow at the mess) and lightly embraced Andromeda before departing in an elegant flurry of blue silk.
You and Bella, you and Bella, you and Bella... An endless refrain beat against her skull with razor-edged wings, taunting her, cackling at her. You and Bella.
Both wishing and wanting and waiting to shape her world to the way she thinks it should be, ready to surrender everything for her own personal cause, to place herself resolutely on her own chosen side.
Blacks are never mediocre.
You and Bella.
Suddenly a pair of slender arms enfolded her, exotic perfume making her dizzy.
“Happy birthday, Meda,” brilliant, mad Bellatrix whispered, thrusting a package into her hands. “You deserve it early.”
If Narcissa was untouchable ice, then Bella was poison: slow and sinuous, curling around the senses, dulling the reflexes... You never noticed she was a trap until it was too late, until she was standing over you with a wand at your throat. It was never that Bella was subtle, it was that you wanted to be close to this compelling, exceptional woman who could do anything, make anything happen...
“Go on, open it!” Bellatrix said impatiently, picking at her diamond bracelet.
Slowly, peeling back the expensive paper, revealing a flat leather box with an embossed jeweler’s crest, Andromeda opened it. A ruby necklace gleamed darkly on a bed of white velvet.
“I found it at Richelieu & Tasse, in Paris,” Bella said, snatching it up and fastening it around Andromeda’s neck. Her fingers were cold. “It belonged to Berenice Black in the 1500s; Aunt said that Berenice went batty and killed seven Mudbloods to dye the stones a deeper red. I thought the color would suit you.”
Andromeda's skin crawled, but the cool, calm mask slid into place and she thanked her sister in an appropriately impressed voice.
“You’ll get another present tonight,” Bella said carelessly. “The necklace is from just me, as well as this…” Glancing over at the door, her sister beckoned her closer and whispered, “I’ve told Lord Voldemort about you, Meda. He said I could bring you to our next gathering in three weeks. We'll be getting Josephs' family, out in Cornwall.”
“Josephs?”
Bellatrix snorted. “Yes: Oriel Josephs, Head Mudblood.” She rose from the bed, pacing feverishly. “Aren't you tired of hiding, Meda?” she said heatedly, staring out the window. “Aren't you? We don't deserve this. We shouldn't have to hide what we are, the powers that are ours by blood, by right, by tradition! I will not stand by and let us fade into legend. No, by Salazar, I won't let that happen. I'll give my life to protect our world.”
Everything clicked into place: Bella's new obsession, the mutterings in the street, and the disappearances. It was like seeing her sister for the first time. “Be serious,” Andromeda said flatly. “You’ll go to Azkaban.”
Her sister waved a dismissive hand, wedding ring flashing distractingly. “This is worth it, Meda! I’ve found a purpose, and it’s worth everything I have to give. He values me,” she added, low and excited, turning to face Andromeda with glittering eyes. “He says that I shall be his right hand, his most trusted…”
“Stop talking rot, Bella.” Picking at a robe, Andromeda looked up to meet her sister's surprised gaze. “What else could you expect? There are laws, Bell.”
Bella's eyes narrowed, and she said suspiciously, “You don't have anything to do with that Mudblood boy anymore, do you?”
“Don't be stupid. Do you think I would?”
Laughing, Bellatrix leaned against the wall and smirked. “Clever words. You're better than Cissy. But soon, everyone will have to declare a side, including you.” Andromeda emitted a snort of disbelief and turned away. “Rodolphus says we can't trust you. Says that I'm mad to ask.” Bella's hand brushed the back of Andromeda's neck, pulling her long black hair away from her face, and turning them both to face the mirror.
“But I know,” Bella murmured, “that you would never fail me.”
Her sister's fingers whispered through Andromeda's hair, gently pulling apart any tangles, wordlessly promising her love and loyalty. That was how Bella operated: her trust in you erased all doubts, all wrongful acts, and placed you on a pedestal where she would defend you at all costs, even beyond death.
“Think about it.” One last brush, and she was gone.
< | two | three>>
----
This is my second piece for
7spells; the prompt table is here.
Thanks to
avendya and
ressie_noldo for looking over each version of this chapter. Any and all feedback welcome.
Also at: allie_meril | ff.net
< | two | three>>
II. In the room where women come and go
1 January 1971
“Cissa, have you seen my diamond earrings?”
“I have not,” her sister murmured, sitting cross-legged on the bed and studying the latest Daily Prophet, “but I know Mother gave them to one of the house-elves for polishing.”
Andromeda frowned. “Oh.”
“Bella is here,” Narcissa said, flipping the page of the newspaper.
“She is?”
“Mm hm. Mother is fussing over her and Rodolphus downstairs. Disgusting, really.” Narcissa eyed her, and added sharply, “Please do not make Mother angry: it would create a terrible mood for your party. Not now, Meda.”
Oh, Ciss, if only you knew… “Right,” she said coolly. “I’ll be ready soon.”
“Be sure you are. Aunt Walburga arrived half an hour ago, and Mother will be furious if anything goes amiss. Aunt still thinks Mother can’t run anything without her help: The Manor, a party, and certainly not us.”
Andromeda sniffed. “Hardly surprising, given Mother and Father’s history. It was a miracle Bella's wedding went as well as it did.”
“True.” Narcissa gave her a thin half-smile, and set the Daily Prophet aside. “I have a gift for you,” she announced.
“Cissa--”
“Stop it,” Narcissa interrupted, taking a deep breath. “Mother and Father are negotiating with the Malfoys for an engagement.”
Andromeda's heart stopped. It had long been assumed that eventually, she would marry Lucius Malfoy; that they were the same age and from the old pureblooded families was enough to convince the wizarding world that this marriage was a given.
“They're negotiating for me, not you.”
A slight pause. “You...” Andromeda frowned. “Cissa, how do you know--”
“Mother told me last week. Apparently, Mrs. Malfoy expressed a certain... distaste for you, and a preference for me.”
The air in the room expanded, and Andromeda breathed freely. “Do you know why?”
“Not at all. But if Deianira Malfoy says it will never happen, you can be assured it will not.” Narcissa examined her nails carefully. “I suspect it would have something to do with you and Lucius hating each other.”
That was true enough. “You are only fifteen,” Andromeda protested, feeling oddly revolted at the idea of Lucius Malfoy wedding her sister.
Her sister waved a hand carelessly. “Oh, it won't be announced for another few years. And Lucius has always been unfailingly courteous to me, so I don't mind.” She tilted her head, looking at Andromeda in a slightly puzzled fashion. “This is the way it is, Meda; the way it has always been. We marry for the family.”
“Except for Bella,” Andromeda said with a twisted smile.
Narcissa laughed shortly. “Except for Bella,” she agreed, as they both recalled the delight of their parents when their sister announced she was going to marry Rodolphus Lestrange. They had always known she would never marry at the family's bidding; it was just fortunate that she had fallen in love with someone rich and pure enough.
“I do not mind,” Narcissa said quietly, looking out the window into the gray afternoon.
Andromeda wondered if Cissa ever minded anything behind that immovable mask of hers, behind that gracious smile. She did not mind when it was Bella and Andromeda who went to Italy with Uncle Alphard, when Druella Black gifted her famous diamond earrings to Andromeda, when Aunt Walburga petted and praised Bella and Meda for their marks while she received merely an indulgent smile. Narcissa didn't seem to mind being the pretty one, the quiet one. Silence buys secrets, she once told Andromeda, quoting a Slytherin maxim, and secrets are power.
“I will marry Lucius when I finish school. But you...” Narcissa paused, taking a minute to give Andromeda a wistful look. “You will never marry at their whim. You and Bella have never been the sort to suffer constraints.”
You and Bella. There it was. You are so like Bella.
“I should go downstairs: Sirius is sure to be jumping out of his skin, and I won’t have him spoiling things for you.” Narcissa smoothed the front of her robes. “Promise me you’ll not try anything tonight?” Andromeda nodded, and her sister relaxed fractionally. “Good. You should hurry, because Mother expects you downstairs promptly at five.” She stepped over the piles of robes on the floor (raising an eyebrow at the mess) and lightly embraced Andromeda before departing in an elegant flurry of blue silk.
You and Bella, you and Bella, you and Bella... An endless refrain beat against her skull with razor-edged wings, taunting her, cackling at her. You and Bella.
Both wishing and wanting and waiting to shape her world to the way she thinks it should be, ready to surrender everything for her own personal cause, to place herself resolutely on her own chosen side.
Blacks are never mediocre.
You and Bella.
Suddenly a pair of slender arms enfolded her, exotic perfume making her dizzy.
“Happy birthday, Meda,” brilliant, mad Bellatrix whispered, thrusting a package into her hands. “You deserve it early.”
If Narcissa was untouchable ice, then Bella was poison: slow and sinuous, curling around the senses, dulling the reflexes... You never noticed she was a trap until it was too late, until she was standing over you with a wand at your throat. It was never that Bella was subtle, it was that you wanted to be close to this compelling, exceptional woman who could do anything, make anything happen...
“Go on, open it!” Bellatrix said impatiently, picking at her diamond bracelet.
Slowly, peeling back the expensive paper, revealing a flat leather box with an embossed jeweler’s crest, Andromeda opened it. A ruby necklace gleamed darkly on a bed of white velvet.
“I found it at Richelieu & Tasse, in Paris,” Bella said, snatching it up and fastening it around Andromeda’s neck. Her fingers were cold. “It belonged to Berenice Black in the 1500s; Aunt said that Berenice went batty and killed seven Mudbloods to dye the stones a deeper red. I thought the color would suit you.”
Andromeda's skin crawled, but the cool, calm mask slid into place and she thanked her sister in an appropriately impressed voice.
“You’ll get another present tonight,” Bella said carelessly. “The necklace is from just me, as well as this…” Glancing over at the door, her sister beckoned her closer and whispered, “I’ve told Lord Voldemort about you, Meda. He said I could bring you to our next gathering in three weeks. We'll be getting Josephs' family, out in Cornwall.”
“Josephs?”
Bellatrix snorted. “Yes: Oriel Josephs, Head Mudblood.” She rose from the bed, pacing feverishly. “Aren't you tired of hiding, Meda?” she said heatedly, staring out the window. “Aren't you? We don't deserve this. We shouldn't have to hide what we are, the powers that are ours by blood, by right, by tradition! I will not stand by and let us fade into legend. No, by Salazar, I won't let that happen. I'll give my life to protect our world.”
Everything clicked into place: Bella's new obsession, the mutterings in the street, and the disappearances. It was like seeing her sister for the first time. “Be serious,” Andromeda said flatly. “You’ll go to Azkaban.”
Her sister waved a dismissive hand, wedding ring flashing distractingly. “This is worth it, Meda! I’ve found a purpose, and it’s worth everything I have to give. He values me,” she added, low and excited, turning to face Andromeda with glittering eyes. “He says that I shall be his right hand, his most trusted…”
“Stop talking rot, Bella.” Picking at a robe, Andromeda looked up to meet her sister's surprised gaze. “What else could you expect? There are laws, Bell.”
Bella's eyes narrowed, and she said suspiciously, “You don't have anything to do with that Mudblood boy anymore, do you?”
“Don't be stupid. Do you think I would?”
Laughing, Bellatrix leaned against the wall and smirked. “Clever words. You're better than Cissy. But soon, everyone will have to declare a side, including you.” Andromeda emitted a snort of disbelief and turned away. “Rodolphus says we can't trust you. Says that I'm mad to ask.” Bella's hand brushed the back of Andromeda's neck, pulling her long black hair away from her face, and turning them both to face the mirror.
“But I know,” Bella murmured, “that you would never fail me.”
Her sister's fingers whispered through Andromeda's hair, gently pulling apart any tangles, wordlessly promising her love and loyalty. That was how Bella operated: her trust in you erased all doubts, all wrongful acts, and placed you on a pedestal where she would defend you at all costs, even beyond death.
“Think about it.” One last brush, and she was gone.
< | two | three>>
----
This is my second piece for
7spells; the prompt table is here.
Thanks to
avendya and
ressie_noldo for looking over each version of this chapter. Any and all feedback welcome.
Also at: allie_meril | ff.net