Chapter Text
The following weeks, as they sped towards December and the Holidays, Andromeda felt herself pulling away. She felt guilty for her time with people like Dorcas and Ted, yet around her old friends she felt awkward, like a misfit. She couldn’t even look Rabastan, one of her best friends, in the eye. He tried to start conversations in Transfiguration when they shared a desk, or on the way back up to the castle after Herbology, but she couldn’t form more than one-word responses to his chatter.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to marry him, one day. In fact, she liked him and found him a good friend—what more could a witch ask for? She’d imagined being betrothed to him, when they were older. He would be a perfect gentleman, a strong head of their family, and he was probably a hard worker.
But the finality of really being betrothed felt stifling. Andromeda found herself holing up in the library with her romance stories and escaping into a world filled with true love and Soulmates.
This was where she was happy and comfortable, where life was like before Hogwarts. Dorcas followed her to the library, where she would do homework or study as Andromeda read. Maybe she should have pushed the half-blood completely away, but Andromeda couldn’t find it within herself to do it. The company was nice.
The week before the winter Hols, Dorcas seemed to have enough, though. Andromeda was reading, nestled in a window that looked out upon the rainy grounds, when Dorcas walked in, purpose in her step. She set her books heavily at the table nearby and marched up to Andromeda, crossing her arms.
“Alright, cmon. Homework time.” Dorcas said firmly.
Andromeda looked up with a glare. “No, thanks.”
“Really? You’ve been all sad for a month and we’re going to fail Potions if you don’t start doing your share. C’mon.”
Andromeda closed her book with a grumble and followed Dorcas to the table. “We aren’t going to fail Potions,” she argued. She’d been keeping up with her schoolwork, well, mostly. She’d done just enough to pass every subject. Wasn’t that plenty?
“We won’t get an Outstanding. I would like an O, wouldn’t you?” Dorcas flipped open her Potions text with more force than necessary.
“I guess.” Andromeda dug in her bookbag for a quill and parchment.
“Ugh, why are you in such an awful mood lately?” Dorcas asked her. “Is this all about those dress robes? You’ve been grouchy since Hallowe’en!”
Andromeda rolled her eyes. “Have not.”
“Oh, yes you have. Listen, your mum was being mean, you are so pretty and weight doesn’t even mat—”
“It’s not about the stupid robes!” Andromeda hissed, trying not to be too loud and upset Pince.
Dorcas sat back. “Oh. Then what?”
Andromeda huffed. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh yeah, because I'm not a pure-blood?” Dorcas asked. Andromeda could practically see her friend’s hackles rising.
“Kinda. Ugh, it's just—I’m engaged,” she explained.
Dorcas laughed. She laughed! “You’re what?”
“Well—not engaged yet , but I’m betrothed to Rab and like it’s fine but also it’s not! I don’t know why my parents wouldn't tell me!” Madam Pince turned around a corner and Andromeda dropped her voice to a whisper. “I just… it’s weird, you know?”
Dorcas stared at her. “That’s… weird.”
Andromeda pursed her lips. “Told you you wouldn’t understand.”
“Does Rabastan know?” She asked.
Andromeda shrugged, laying her chin on the table. “Probably. His brother told me.”
“At the Hallowe’en Feast?” Dorcas asked. At Andromeda’s nod, she sighed. “Well, that explains a lot.”
Andromeda felt like a weight was lifted off her shoulders, finally having told someone, but it didn’t change the chained feeling around her ribs that restricted her breathing.
“Can I ask you something?” Dorcas broke the silence, her voice quiet.
Andromeda shrugged.
“Why don’t you believe in Soulmates?”
Her head snapped up and she looked quizzically over at her Housemate. “When did I say that?”
“Well,” Dorcas gave a one-shouldered shrug, “You didn’t really, but you must not, if you’re going to marry Rabastan, right?”
Andromeda’s fingers fluttered at her neck, checking that her Soulmark was properly covered. “Who says he isn't my Soulmate?” She argued. “Of course I believe in Soulmates.”
“Then why do you cover your Soulmark up?” Dorcas asked. She gestured to her own mark, the delicate foxgloves that poked up above her robes. “Do all pure-bloods cover them up?”
“Yes, of course,” Andromeda told her, trying not to be so defensive. She was only asking.
“Why?” Dorcas leaned forward. Andromeda couldn’t help studying her friend’s Soulmark for another moment. She no longer felt like people were immodest without high collars like her own, but it still felt very wrong.
She averted her gaze to the table and began tracing the woodgrain. “Soul Magic is archaic,” she began. It felt like her mother had taken over her voice. These words were not her own, they were the words of the Blacks who had come before.
“Soul Magic may have worked thousands of years ago, but how can we trust something like that to decide who we belong with? When people marry their Soul-marked Soulmate, they do stupid things. They get their hearts broken. It’s a bad idea. Isn’t it better to marry someone your family has agreed on? Someone who understands you because they are like you?
“It would be awful to be unequally matched, to marry someone whose culture was so different from yours, right? Love, when matched right, is gentle and easy. It's safe.”
Out of words, she looked back up at Dorcas. The girl’s amber eyes were filled with tears.
“That is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” she breathed.
Although she would never admit it, a tiny, treacherous part of Andromeda agreed.
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“Goodbye, Madam Pomfrey! Happy Holidays!” Andromeda left the Hospital Wing with a small parcel from the school nurse and a bright smile on her face. Now to pack for the break and go home!
A figure pushed off the wall and walked over to her. She cringed inwardly as Ted approached, hands in his Muggletrouser pockets.
She bit the inside of her cheek. Lately, she’d been leaving the Hospital Wing early each morning, eager, she argued, to walk with Cissa to breakfast. Really, it had been a great way to avoid the attentive Hufflepuff.
“Edward,” she greeted, fiddling with the parcel in her hands.
“Droma,” he gave a smile that looked entirely forced. “Haven’t seen you much. How are you?”
Andromeda shrugged, her ears growing red. “I’ve been alright.” I’ve been a shoddy friend.
“I haven’t had a chance to give you your birthday present.” Ted pulled a red bar from his pocket and held it out.
Hesitantly, Andromeda accepted the KitKat. “Um. Thank you.” She pocketed the bar. “I… Are you going home for the Holidays?”
Ted nodded, leaning back on his feet. “Yup. Cris is coming over for a week, too. You?”
“Yes, my parents have a lot planned for Yule.” The layer of frost over each shared word made Andromeda want to shiver. “Well, you have a good break, yeah?”
Ted shook his head, tossing his sandy hair from his eyes. “Yup. You too.”
She wanted to escape this awkward conversation. She gave him a curt nod and turned to go back to the dorms, but Ted’s hand on her arm stopped her. It gave her a keen sense of deja vu.
“Wait. Uh, Droma…” He hesitated as she looked back at him, before fishing in his pocket for something. “Here,” he said finally, holding out what looked like a ripped scrap of parchment.
“Er… thanks?” She took it, confused.
“It’s my address,” he explained hurriedly. “In case you wanted to talk over the break. You know, send a letter or something.”
She frowned. “You know I don’t need an address for that, right?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh? Sorry. Well, yeah. Feel free to owl? Yeah. Bye.” Ted turned tail and hurried off, leaving her there in front of the Hospital Wing with a scrap of paper and a whirling mind. Getting home could not come soon enough.
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Unfortunately, the girls only had a day at the Manor before they were whisked off to France with their parents to visit relatives all along the coast. Andromeda was certain she could go an entire lifetime without another kiss on the cheek.
True to their promise, at the end of the week, their parents took them all to Paris for Holiday shopping.
All week, their mother had doted on Andromeda and Narcissa, while their father had boasted about his outstanding all-Slytherin family. For Yule, Druella was determined for her daughters to have matching dress robes that screamed wealth and good fortune.
Leaving their father in the street to gad about with some French politicians, Druella pulled her daughters with her into Madame Couture’s, a seamstress she argued would rival all English witches’ boutiques.
Bellatrix, as usual, was first, leaving Cissa and Andromeda to wander the little shop and admire the robes on display. Andromeda found herself drawn to an exquisite green fabric, an emerald brocade with gold embroidered serpents that slithered across the sea of green in mesmerising patterns.
Her mother found her there with the fabric between her fingers. “Ah, this is beautiful. You have a good eye, my darling.”
Andromeda smiled up at her mother. “Would it make a good robe?”
Her mother pursed her lips. “I think you would look better in something slimming, like this, perhaps?” She gestured at a darker green fabric.
Andromeda nodded. “Oh, yes, you’re right.”
Druella charmed the fabric to float after them and she walked over to Cissa.
“Oh my darling, you’ve found just the thing, haven’t you?” Their mother cooed, smiling adoringly down at her youngest, who had found a set of pale green dress robes in the window. The silvery sheen gave the spring-colored satin a snowy glaze—perfect for the winter. She charmed the display to follow as well and led the girls back over to where Bella stood, fabric draped over her body.
Madame Couture zipped around her, a wispy, tall woman with silvery blonde hair pinned up in a stylish chignon. She moved like she knew exactly what she was doing, purpose in every elegant tilt of her head and flick of her wand. Bella, on the other hand, looked rather bored.
“Oh, that colour looks wonderful on you, Bella!” Cissa complimented kindly. The grey did bring out Bella’s eyes. Grey always looked good on Blacks.
“Next!” Madame Couture snapped her fingers for Andromeda as soon as Bella was out of the dress. She was a woman with a flow and she did not want it interrupted.
Andromeda stepped up onto the platform and pulled off her robes, leaving on a tight turtleneck and skirt. Tape measures flew up to take her measurements, wrapping around her arms, waist, and neck.
“Oh, zis one iz curvy, Madame Black! Are you sure she iz yours?”
Her mother gave a tight-lipped smile. “She loves her sweets, my Andromeda.”
Andromeda bit down on her tongue, letting her mind wander so she didn’t cry. She’d skipped dessert everyday since Hallowe’en, had it not been enough? From her mother’s expression, clearly it had not.
“I’d like her robes to be this fabric,” Druella said, pulling Andromeda back into herself.
Madame Couture nodded, summoning the dark green chiffon. “Yes, yes, we will do many ruffles! It will hide ze…” she gestured vaguely at Andromeda, “imperfections.”
“Perfect, thank you, Madame. You are the best of the best,” Druella smiled.
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The Blacks arrived at events precisely forty minutes after the event start time–every time. As Cygnus told his girls, “only a chancer and a nobody arrives on time. We have nothing to prove.”
Dressed in elegant green robes with his stunning wife on his arm, he walked through the entry-way fireplace and into Malfoy Manor’s entrance hall. Behind them, and equally as gorgeous and well-bred, came Bellatric, Andromeda, and Narcissa Black. Over-cloaks were lifted from their shoulders and whisked away, revealing their pretty new dress robes, green and silver like the true Slytherins they all were.
Andromeda could smell the delightful blend of fresh pine, cranberries, and magic that permeated the manor. She took Cissa’s hand and squeezed three times, excited. Now that they had wands, this would be their first Yule Celebration to really participate, not just get babysat by the house-elves all night. Cissa, her pale hair curled in perfect Black family ringlets, smiled and squeezed back.
A man in simple black robes announced the arrival of Cygnus and Druella Black, and the five of them entered the main ballroom as a group. Bella turned to the younger girls, a flash of bright excitement in her dark eyes. “No more kiddie table. Welcome to the real party.”
She walked with purpose to the right side of the room, leaving Andromeda and Cissa to follow her dutifully, just like they always had done. Andromeda looked around the giant room, taking in with awe the fairy chandeliers that glistened with enchanted snow, the Veela dancers spinning mesmerizingly on the ballroom floor, and the orchestra in the centre of it all–musician-less instruments singing a festive tune. Andromeda thought she heard the melody of an old Celtic song, but Cissa beside her was definitely humming Carol of the Bells.
“Oh, I’m sorry sisters, we must have shown up at the wrong place!” Bella announced, drawing back Andromeda’s attention. She had a hand on her hip and was staring down a girl by the wall. “This one has Gryffindor brats.”
The girl, a Gryffindor, apparently, scowled, her freckled face scrunching up in distaste. She looked to be Bella’s age, red haired with brown eyes and a fierce look about her. Andromeda immediately thought of Dorcas.
“Bellatrix,” the girl growled, mimicking Bella’s stance. “What are you doing here?”
“I,” Bella started, stepping forward, “am here because I belong. You don’t, Molly Prewett.”
Oh. Recognition dawned on Andromeda and she took the girl in once more. So this was the lion that Bella was always complaining about.
It wasn't just Molly’s red curls that made her stick out like a sore thumb. Molly was dressed in purple dress robes that were styled like Cissa’s, but they were clearly off-the-shelf elf-made things. She was a Prewett, a family one wrong move from getting labelled blood traitors. And, of course, she was a Gryffindor. In short, Molly Prewett really didn’t belong here. According to Bella, Molly was a Muggle-lover with a nagging voice and a saviour complex. She was “on her way to becoming a Prefect,” although that didn’t actually seem like a bad thing, really. Andromeda knew her sister, though; an impression stuck with her, and she could hold a grudge forever.
“My family is old too, Bella,” Molly said hotly. “Yule is tradition and I’m not going to miss it because of a little snake like you.”
As the smoke began curling from Bella’s ears, Cissa and Andromeda inched away. Bella’s wars were her own to wage. They crept away as the angry voices grew and went to find the dessert table.
“So that’s Molly,” Andromeda giggled. She picked up a chocolate bonbon and popped it in her mouth.
“I can’t believe the Prewetts are still invited here. I thought the Malfoys didn’t invite… those types,” Cissa whispered, taking a chocolate too. As one, both girls suddenly choked and reached for napkins to cough into.
Andromeda shoved the soiled napkin into the hands of a passing elf, still gagging. “What was that?” A low chuckle came from behind them and they whipped around, trying to school their expressions.
“I believe you just had Firewhisky bonbons,” said Mr. Malfoy, a charming smile on his slender face. Both girls flushed with embarrassment.
“Mr. Malfoy!” They exclaimed, dipping their heads with respect.
“Thank you for inviting us,” Cissa said sweetly, though her voice was still thick.
Andromeda nodded. “Yes, thank you!”
“Of course, my dears. Happy first Yule.” He clasped his hands behind his back, striking a regal pose. “I believe the sweets you’ll enjoy are that way,” he said graciously, gesturing a few tables down.
Embarrassed, they gave a quick thanks and scurried away. Well, hurried away, gracefully. As gracefully as one can in brand new dancing shoes.
At the appropriate table, Andromeda burst into laughter. “We just had alcohol!” She whispered to Cissa.
The younger girl was less quick to recover her pride. She pressed pale fingers to flushed cheeks in an attempt to cool them down. “It was not funny,” she argued.
“It was, too,” Andromeda retorted. She picked up a biscuit and sniffed it. “I think this is safe,” she confided, taking a bite.
“What’s safe?” Rabastan had appeared out of nowhere at Andromeda’s side, a polite smile on his face. In brand new, dark green dress robes, his dark brown eyes looked deep as a forest.
Andromeda swallowed the bite and inched away from him. “Hello, Lestrange,” she said.
“Black,” he greeted. Andromeda did not miss the way Cissa’s eyes darted between them. She clearly saw that something was weird between them. “May I have your first dance?”
The biscuit must not have gone down right, because she choked. “What?” After all this avoiding, he was trying to trap her!
Rabastan cleared his throat and donned an even posher tone. “Why Miss Black, may I have your first dance?”
Andromeda gave him a cheeky smile and pushed Cissa towards him. “She would love to! Wouldn’t you Cissy?”
Cissa was now looking the picture of bewilderment. She stepped back from Rabastan and stared at Andromeda.
“He just asked you, not me!”
Andromeda wrinkled her nose. “Aw, you can’t just play along?” she groaned in a stage whisper, turning back to the waiting boy. “Yeah, yeah, alright.”
Rabastan’s smile grew and he took her hand. “Great!”
“Wait, now-?” She was cut off as he tugged her into the middle of the room, where couples were dancing left and right. It was a waltz.
“Alright, Black. Why have you been avoiding me?” Rabastan began leading them in the steps of the dance. Being her height, he was far easier to keep up with than his brother.
Andromeda rolled her eyes. “Why aren’t you avoiding me? ” She shot back.
His head tilted to one side. “Um… should I be?”
She studied his face. Rabastan was a trickster, but he looked rather serious now.
“Well, yeah. It's just kind of weird, isn’t it?” It didn’t feel like they could be normal friends, now that they were betrothed. A weird wall had been thrown up between them. Rather than agreement, though, hurt and confusion flashed across his face.
Rabastan spun her out in a circle and brought her back. “I don’t get it. What’s weird? Did I do something? Aren’t we still friends?”
The rawness of his voice was another surprise to her. Just moments ago, she’d been cornered by him, her cheeky friend, yet now a vulnerable boy was leading her in the waltz.
“Of course we’re friends, Rab,” Andromeda said. “But now that we’re betrothed it just fee-”
“Betrothed?” Rabstan’s eyebrows shot into his hairline and he tensed. “Us? Since when?”
Oh. He didn’t know. How could he have not, though? The boys always knew first.
“Rodolphus told me. It’s not really official yet, or anything. But we are,” Andromeda told him, unable to meet his eyes.
“So… that’s why you’ve been acting weird?” He asked.
Andromeda nodded. This conversation felt weird and exactly what she hadn’t wished to have. They were both quiet for a couple measures, dancing with the music and focusing on their steps.
“Well,” said Rabastan, his voice strong again. “I still don’t really get why you were avoiding me,” he admitted. “I mean, really, that’s forever from now!”
“Seven years,” she corrected him.
“Yeah, yeah,” he shrugged it off, and it seemed he had bounced right back to his usual self, quite unaffected by the earth-shattering news. “Doesn’t change much, though.”
Andromeda thought about that. How do you talk with a person you will one day marry? How do you tease them like nothing has happened? How do you fall in love naturally? How can you have your perfect storybook romance when you know exactly who it will be the whole book?
The music shifted and Rabastan stopped dancing, pulling her off to the side of the ballroom. “Black, you’re my friend. We don’t have to worry about being married, that’s ages away!” He let go of her hand and nudged her in the ribs, causing her to look up at him in alarm. “Let’s just pretend we aren’t, okay? Okay,” he nodded as if the conversation were at an end and smiled. “Later, Black! Oh, sorry wait there’s something on your robes,” he frowned.
Andromeda looked down, only for him to chuff her on the nose with his finger. “Got you!” Rabastan grinned and bounded off before she could hit him.
Andromeda’s stomach flipped as she watched him go, his floppy black curls bouncing merrily on his head. She chewed on her lip. How do you act like just friends with your Betrothed when they have the cutest darn face you’ve ever seen?
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Andromeda was swept up in the crowd of witches and wizards as the night grew dark and they assembled outside under the stars. It was tradition, in Yule, to be with one’s family for the spells, so she pushed her way through the gathered people, looking for them.
The air was vibrating with magic and the cloying smell of the Malfoy rose garden nearby, but Andromeda was still able to recognize the Black family signature and follow the magic to the large gathering of Blacks near the centre.
Bella smiled and took Andromeda’s hand when she approached. “There you are! I was worried you’d gotten lost with a Mudblood again!” She teased.
Andromeda’s stomach plummeted, a brick thrown off a cliff. Bella still smiled, like she was joking, but something shimmered in her sister’s eyes that she’d never seen before. Suspicion? Mistrust? She forced a smile.
“What? Of course not, I was just eating and dancing, Bella,” Andromeda said. She didn’t like the defensive feeling that rose in her chest. Sure, she walked with Ted Tonks and had talked to Charity Burbage, but they weren’t friends or anything.
“No, of course not,” Bella said sweetly. She let go of Andromeda’s arm and walked off, only for their Aunt Walburga to take her place.
“Andromeda, my love!” She put a hand on Andromeda’s shoulder and smiled down at her, but again the smile was a leer that set the little witch’s teeth on edge. “Your first Yule!”
Andromeda nodded and took her wand from a pocket in her robes. “I am ready, Aunt Walburga,” she said, as she knew was right.
Walburga shook her head, clicking her tongue. “My eldest niece tells me that before the ritual you must be cleansed,” she told her. Andromeda frowned.
“What? But I’m clean! I’m pure! Always pure!”
Walburga’s fingers dug into her shoulders like talons, her beady eyes staring straight into Andromeda’s soul.
“No, no, little one, you are not pure. You make friends with Muggles and filth!” Walburga began to raise her voice, drawing attention from nearby families. “You have a Muggle Soulmate, you wicked, wicked girl! You are a stain upon the name of Black!”
Andromeda cowered, trying to pry her aunt’s claws away. “No, always pure, I’m good! I obey! I do what I’m told!”
“Wicked child!” Walburga screamed.
Andromeda’s parents stepped forward, disappointed and angry. “You are no daughter of mine,” said her father.
She looked desperately at her mother. Druella turned away.
Sobbing, vision blurred, she reached for Cissy and took her hand, in desperate need of her familiar touch. She squeezed three times. I love you. Cissy didn't squeeze back.
Andromeda woke up screaming.
She swiped at the air in front of her only to realise she was alone in a dark sitting room. Her green chiffon dress robes were crinkled around her on the loveseat and a hearty fire blazed in the hearth. She looked to a clock. 11:45pm. Andromeda jumped up and raced outside to find her family and initiate the midnight Yule incantations.
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Two hundred kilometres away, in Kent, Ted Tonks jerked awake, his heart racing and the feeling of inexplicable terror lodged in his soul.