A/N: A small drabble for Round 3 of the Seven Challenges Competition.
)o(
No matter what Andromeda was a Black. It did not matter that she was not as loudly critical of mudbloods as Bellatrix and Narcissa. It did not matter that Bellatrix was often so violent and Narcissa as cold as ice. She still shared the same blood and the genealogy lived within her.
She still acted like a Black.
She displayed it throughout her life. She stood tall and proud, her head raised high as she gazed down her nose at whoever passed her by. She was arrogant, but she did not think that was a problem.
She had so many reasons to be proud. She might not have had as much stock and importance in blood purity as the others, but she knew she was attractive, refined and, most important of all, intelligent. If someone was a fool she was quite sure she was justified in knowing she was superior.
It was so very simple to have those opinions. When she listened to the stupid questions people asked like they knew nothing, her nose would crinkle. When she would hear curse words escape a person's lips every moment like their vocabulary was limited, she would cringe. When she would hear stupid jokes formed with little wit, she would turn away.
No matter what, her opinion would grow. Just that one simple comment would create a prejudice that would stick with her. She would know she was superior and she would be so very proud of that fact.
Even as she perched herself on a seat in a muggle restaurant with her new muggleborn husband and, even after her name had been blasted off the Black tree, those tendencies stuck by her. Sitting, her eyes flicked over the stain on the waitresses apron and her ears picked up the conversation of two teenagers near them.
Her lips pursed in irritation.
After all, she was still a Black.