Disclaimer-Nothing of this is mine. J.K Rowling's all the way.
A/N- This is written before Andromeda leaves the family but after the end of Hogwarts, for Andromeda. Narcissa is still at school.
A perfect daughter-
"No! No! NO! A thousand times no!" Andromeda shouted, "I won't get married to him!"
"Why not Andy, he's rich, pureblooded, what's wrong with him?" Narcissa, her annoying, stupid, airheaded little sister asked.
"I don't love him!" Andromeda wailed, trying to get the younger girl to see the wrong in this situation.
"Love? What has love got to do with anything? Don't talk about love as if it exists. Sheesh, Andy I thought there was something really wrong. Grow up why don't you! Love is for idiots like Sirius. Love is for the mudbloods and the blood traitors and the freaks. Stop being so childish and start behaving like a proper Black. It's about time you lived up to our name. Are you a Black or aren't you?" Narcissa answered scathingly before flouncing off, muttering under her breath about "love" and "respectable" and "pure".
Andromeda stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
Love is for the mudbloods and the blood traitors and the freaks.
She rested her head against the wash-hand basin, feeling the cold ceramic chill spread through her.
Don't talk about love as if it exists
Did love exist? She thought so. Evidently Narcissa disagreed.
Start behaving like a proper Black. It's about time you lived up to our name
She sat up and looked into the mirror. Staring back at her was a woman with long brown hair and blue eyes. She sighed.
Look at me
I will
never pass for a perfect bride
Or a perfect daughter
She looked at herself. She had her fathers nose, her mothers lips. She looked like a Black, regal and proud. Why couldn't she just live up to their expectations as a perfect pureblood daughter and marry the man her parents had chosen for her? No, she couldn't bring herself to even think about accepting.
Can it be
I'm not
meant to play this part?
Maybe she was supposed
to be something more than a trophy wife of some snobbish pureblood
her parents picked out for her. Maybe she could be something
important, help people, be who she was for once, not who she was
supposed to be.
Now I see
That if
I were truly to be myself
I would break my family's heart
She would be disowned. Black women never did anything important, except producing heirs of course. Work was for the lower classes. If she worked she would dishonour the family name. She would be outcast, alone.
Who is that girl I
see
Staring straight
Back at me?
Why is my reflection
someone I don't know?
She looked at her clothes, the most expensive fashions. They were so uncomfortable. She wished the party season was over so she could go back to wearing simple robes. Her face was heavily made up and she wore a heavy, emerald encrusted necklace. None of it was her choosing. It was all Narcissa and Bellatrix and her mother, preening and polishing her like a doll.
Somehow I cannot
hide
Who I am
Though I've tried
She'd tried to honour
her family name. She'd begged the Sorting Hat to put her in
Slytherin. She'd worn all the fashions, listened to her sisters
teasing the muggleborns, stood there and let them. God knows she'd
tried everything to be a proper Black but she couldn't be. She
wouldn't be.
When will my
reflection show
Who I am inside?
Who am I? She wondered.
Was she really worthy of the name Black? Did she really want it?
Would it be easier for her if she spurned the name and left the
family? Left forever and carried on alone.
When will my
reflection show
Who I am inside?
She returned her head to the basin edge. These questions were all too confusing. Narcissa's voice echoed one last time through her head.
It's about time you lived up to our name. Are you a Black or aren't you?