I've finally decided to start a story where the chapters actually lead on from one another, so please tell me how it is.
Rated T - nothing explicit, but quite suggestive and contains minor themes of abuse later on.
A Semblance of Loyalty
"What about that Flint boy? He's a little old, but…"
"No, Druella. The Flints are barely clinging to what little gold they have left. Who knows what they'd do with Andromeda's share? Never who his brother married - the girl is from Wales of all places. They must be desperate, and we don't do charity cases."
Andromeda watched as her mother and her aunt bickered over her future husband.
"Yaxley, perhaps? We haven't married into that family since Arcturus II. They're quite respectable." Walburga Black said. She was a terrifying woman, her elegant figure tall and full of sharp angles. Her eyes sparkled a deep grey, her lips were blood red, and her skin porcelain pale. Her wild hair was tamed into a severe but intricate knot, a few wisps swirling around her formidable countenance. She usually wore an expression so blank that you couldn't tell if she was human at all, but in the safety of her own home, it was twisted into her preferred scowl.
Druella frowned a little. "No. He's ten years older than her, and his mother is repulsive. A Slughorn, if I'm not mistaken. We wouldn't want Christmas dinner with that family." Druella, Andromeda's mother, was short and a little plump, but no less terrifying than Walburga - she carried an air of self-importance, her nose always turned up as if she was smelling dung (this expression she passed on to her youngest daughter, Narcissa) and her eyes were onyx black. She wasn't a Black by birth, but she carried the name like any other: as if she was above all other people, purebloods and mudbloods alike.
Muggleborns, not mudbloods. Andromeda reminded herself.
"Well, there aren't many options left, Druella. You have to open your sights a little. She's turning seventeen soon, and soon enough all the respectable men will be taken."
"Rabastan Lestrange, then? Lucius Malfoy?"
"Lucius is closer to Narcissa's age, and you said the two of them associate with each other. Andromeda can't marry someone younger than her. Save him for Narcissa. Rabastan, though… he would be a possibility. You have to ask yourself if there would be a greater advantage marrying into a different family. Bellatrix is already married to his brother."
"Yes," she murmured.
"Just think, Druella. Right now, she is young and whole, quite pretty, very curvy, with a plentiful bosom and nice wide hips. Anyone will take her - she's a Black, for Merlin's sake!"
Understandably, this assessment made Andromeda a little uncomfortable.
"But there aren't many suitable options."
Walburga tilted her head in agreement, "True."
"Better than a Yaxley, Walburga."
"Better than a Yaxley. Send a letter immediately."
And with that, Andromeda was given away to Rabastan Lestrange like an expensive object to be sold and bought and placed on a mantelpiece. Treasured, shown off at dinner parties, but not loved or considered to have feelings.
This was life in the Black family.
Andromeda hated Rabastan Lestrange with a passion. He was short and plenty handsome, with a sharp jaw and dark blue eyes and tidy brown hair. He wore neat little glasses that he liked to use to look down on people, but he didn't need them. He had a silver walking stick that he tapped against the ground at every moment, but he had no limp or other injury. He liked to collect various Dark relics (anything expensive at Borgin and Burkes) and he lined them up on his window ledge in a row but he had never used them once. He was obsessed with tiniest things, stubborn and determined to reach the end of whatever project he was working on or whatever problem he wanted solved.
It was a facade, a hundred useless distractions to steer observers away from the real Rabastan Lestrange. Despite those tidy quirks, his mind was wild. He adored the work of the Dark Lord, and he was high in the ranks of the Death Eaters himself, with that dreadful mark on his arm and blood staining his mind. He spent hours in Knockturn Alley, or locked up in the family's potions lab, and he pored over books on Dark Magic while at school. He was loud and brash (though not around adults of any kind) and had been known to get angry very easily.
They sat opposite each other at Christmas dinner, a new ring sparkling on Andromeda's finger.
"Rabastan, how is life out of school?" Druella asked, having suddenly become interested in him not that he was betrothed to her daughter.
"Well, I am climbing higher in the Dark Lord's ranks. He is a truly inspiring man, and will do great things for the world. Slowly, we will clear the world of corruption, but we aren't planning to go public yet. We're staying quiet for now." Rabastan said in that slimily smooth way of his.
Bellatrix smiled from further down the table where she sat with Rodolphus Lestrange, her new husband. "We just have to wish the next Minister for Magic shares his views. Harold Mincham is detestable. Honestly - a mudblood as our Minister!"
Andromeda looked remarkably similar to Bellatrix, but they couldn't have been more different inside. Bella was crazy and loud and seductive, and Andromeda was quiet and studious and shy.
Sirius, who was the tender age of ten, and sat beside Andromeda, frowned. "Andy, what are they talking about?"
Andromeda. Not Andy. She hated being called anything but Andromeda.
"Nothing, Sirius. Just the man that's in charge of the Ministry and another man who doesn't like him."
"Oh."
Walburga's husband, Orion, chose that moment to speak up. "How is Narcissa? Is she betrothed yet?"
Druella smiled at Narcissa, "Not yet, but I've heard she's very close to Lucius Malfoy."
"A fitting match."
It certainly was. However much Andromeda loved her younger sister, she knew that Narcissa was cold and pompous. Despite being a quiet girl, she had clear views about blood purity, views that she constantly discussed with the similarly cold Lucius Malfoy, who was in her year. They could often be seen roaming the castle together, and Narcissa even looked the part - she had the pale blonde hair (where had that come from?) that the Malfoy family prized. The two were already involved with each other romantically, but Andromeda wasn't sure if that was public knowledge, so she kept her mouth shut.
"And Rabastan, Andromeda … when is the wedding?"
Andromeda did speak then, lest Rabastan say something she didn't approve of (they hadn't discussed marriage yet - they hadn't even spoken to each other despite their engagement). "After I've finished Hogwarts. I wouldn't want a wedding to be getting in the way of exams."
Her father, Cygnus, raised a critical eyebrow, "Or for studying to be getting in the way of what is sure to be a magnificent wedding."
She smiled weakly, "Of course."
Rabastan looked down at her through his glasses in a way she couldn't quite put her finger on.
They returned to the tasteless food, which sat on an undecorated table, and on each seat sat another icy relative. Where was the Christmas spirit? The laughing, the crackers, the presents and bad jokes? Andromeda had only spent one Christmas at Hogwarts, but she was missing it already.
She didn't want to be part of this dull celebration every year. She didn't want to be at the Lestrange household, either, with a husband who she didn't love.
She wanted to laugh, but everyone here was too cold to understand that. She wanted to cry, but her father was too strict to let her express such emotion. She wanted the joy of Christmas, but her family was far too full and stuffy. She wanted a family who loved. She certainly didn't want to be here for Christmas ever again.
26/12/1969
Judy,
Help me! Christmases here are so stuffy, and I've just become engaged to Rabastan Lestrange. He's simply revolting! Mother didn't even ask my opinion about it. I don't know what I'm going to do, because how can I love someone so repulsive? I still think that Hufflepuff beater is twice as good looking and ten times as kind. I'll have to live with Rabastan my whole life, now. I'll be in the same house - the same bed - as that slimy creature!
You're so lucky that your Mum's so relaxed about it, so you can marry whoever you like, even if you do have bad taste in men (honestly, Nobby Leach? He's ancient and looks like a weasel!).
And this house? Aunt Walburga's idea of decoration is several plinths with house elf heads on them. The portraits snap at me to fix my hair every time I walk past. Everything is the same shade of green. I'm okay with green, but not when the toilet seat is the colour of vomit.
Enough about me, though. What about you? How was Christmas with your weirdo cousin? Tell me all the details!
I hope you like the quills. I know you have a peculiar collection of them, so I tried to get the most interesting ones I can find.
Thank you for the book - I really needed a good laugh, and it's doing wonders. The only person I can stand to speak to here is Sirius, and he's ten, and isn't remotely interested in gossip.
Yours in boredom,
Andromeda Black.
.
.
27/12/1969
Andromeda,
Stop complaining! Rabastan isn't so bad (just look at those deep blue eyes), and he's rich, so you can live in luxury. Stop thinking about 'that Hufflepuff beater' (he has a name, you know!), and think about poor little Judith Crouch, who's stuck in a house with her cousin, Barty Jr., who is an actual psychopath. And he's only seven.
Also, there's nothing wrong with Nobby Leach - he might be seventy-three, but he used to be fit. Like, really fit. REALLY fit.
Christmas with Bart. Okay, let's say it was better than last year - at least he's out of the pirate phase. He already has a wand, but he knows no magic, so he set the curtains alight nineteen times, made me temporarily bald three times, and made Mum's precious new flowers wilt where they sat on the windowsill. Seriously, why did his dad give him a wand? He's SEVEN, and Bart Sr. is meant to be a responsible, important guy in the Ministry.
The quills are great! How did you get a fwooper feather one? It's really pretty (I can't stop staring at the colour). And the thunderbird one … it's sensational just holding such a massive thing. I can't bear to write with any of them.
I'm glad you like the book, and it's a shame Sirius doesn't like listening to you gossip. You'd think he was a ten-year-old boy or something!
Don't have too much fun in that stuffy, extremely well-decorated house without me,
Judy xx
New Year's Eve, and Andromeda was sitting in the drawing room with everybody else. Bellatrix and Rodolphus had left to stay at the Lestrange Manor, so only Cygnus, Druella, Andromeda, Rabastan, Narcissa, Orion, Walburga, Sirius, Regulus, and Grandfather Arcturus remained. Arcturus Black had decided to join his family for the New Year, having spent Christmas at the French Ministry sorting out some of the British Ministry's minor financial problems.
He was regal and strict, passing his cold, pale grey eyes and sharp nose to his son (Orion). The eyes themselves were unblinking and they moved slowly, like a shark's eyes. It was impossible not to look away when they rested on you. He had an impressive yet trimmed beard of a harsh snow white. The entire aura he gave was one of extreme impatience, and of course, the classic Black I'm-better-than-you vibe was loud and clear.
He wasn't even her grandfather, but he was the head of the House of Black, and that meant he was untouchable. He was to be treated with utmost respect. The family called him whatever he asked them to call him.
The seconds were counting down on the clock that had been conjured out of flame.
Arcturus stood as the numbers descended. "To a New Year full of successes. Strengthening bonds between families-" he glanced at Andromeda and Rabastan "-prospering financially-" he looked at Orion and Cygnus "-and to a future in which lesser people are put in their rightful place."
Glasses were raised, drinks were drunk, and there was a grim mutter of "Happy New Year" from all around.
Despite the word 'happy', Andromeda yet again found herself longing for fireworks or for a toast of peace rather than war, or for even an ounce of expression in Arcturus' words.
"May I retire, sir?" she asked Arcturus, bowing her head a little. "I am feeling rather tired."
"Yes. Of course."
She swept out the room and up the staircase to one of the many spare rooms, this one a particularly cosy one which she always chose when she visited. It was small, and always warm, with a small double bed and simple furniture. It generally felt very pleasant, very warm and dry and homely, and Andromeda treated it as a haven when she wanted to be rid of her family.
Once she had changed into a silk nightgown, she heard a knock on the door.
She wondered who would knock if everyone knew she was going to bed, but answered it anyway.
Rabastan. She should've known.
"Could I step in for a moment?" he asked, smooth slimy voice cutting through the silence.
She stepped aside, knowing that she couldn't refuse; knowing that he practically owned her now.
That thought scared her a lot.
In the half-light of the lantern on her bedside table, she could see a slimy smirk on his face. He looked at her hungrily, eyeing her body down his nose and through his stupid glasses. His eyes rested on her lips, her breasts, her waist, her bum, her legs, all of which the nightgown did a very bad job of covering sufficiently.
"Andromeda."
"Rabastan."
In a moment, he lunged forwards, pressing her against the bed. Then his lips were on hers and his tongue was in her mouth, and she wanted to vomit. But she couldn't, because this was the man she was betrothed to. She had to deal with this. She had to deal with this for her whole life.
She pretended Rabastan was Ted Tonks, the handsome Hufflepuff beater who had only ever smiled at her once in a corridor in third year, and kissed him straight back.
His lips were as slimy as she had imagined, and she had to try hard not to retch because Ted Tonks would not taste like this at all. He pushed harder, his hips driving hers into the side of the bed, his hands roaming around her waist. She made herself loop her arms around his neck, forced her tongue to meet with his.
She was panicking now: how far would this go?
And now he reached his hand down to settle on her bum, squeezing a little, and she had to imagine it wasn't him. But Ted Tonks always seemed like such a gentleman, and she knew she was kidding herself.
Rabastan reached up with his other hand to her bosom, closing his fingers around one breast, tightening and twisting with every second. Now his hands were exploring too far, and his lips were still hard on hers, and then he was viciously nipping at her neck. It was like he was a vampire, trying to find the best place to bite, preying on her, ready to drain her of her life. She was actually ready for him to kill her, to sink his teeth into her neck, but he just ran his slimy lips all around her skin.
She thought love was meant to be a hot mess. She thought kisses were meant to be warm and soft. All she could feel was a damp settling into her bones, a ragged edge biting her soul.
He lowered his dirty mouth even further. The nightgown had a low neckline that revealed a lot of cleavage, so now he dragged his tongue along that line, moaning in pleasure as he did so. He licked along the revealed part of her breasts, her collarbone, drawing dreadful lines up her neck. He reached his tongue wherever he could see bare skin, and yet again Andromeda shivered in disgust.
A single tear wandered down her cheek and she wondered whether he had noticed. She wondered is he cared whether she was enjoying it. She wondered if he knew what tears were, because he seemed devoid of anything but cruelty.
He was back to her lips in a second and it was like he was trying to swallow her mouth, devour her face with his vile lips, and now one hand was reaching underneath her nightgown, trailing slowly up her bare leg, leaving snail trails in its wake.
Andromeda leapt away as his spidery fingers rose higher and higher, smacking his hand away from her skin. "Stop," she said, firmly but quietly so as not to wake anyone else, "We're out of wedlock. No further, Rabastan."
He gave her another sickening smirk. "Of course, my beautiful Andromeda. At least let me accompany you to bed."
He was still wearing his glasses, and he looked down at her through them, eyebrow raised in challenge.
She nodded dully.
He climbed in with her, pulling her hard against him. She was trapped in his arms, a useless doll. She could feel every place where he had touched her, kissed her, bitten her, licked her.
Suddenly the bedroom didn't feel as pleasant anymore.
Andromeda woke alone. She was alone in the bed, her nightgown disheveled. She could still feel the phantom of his hands on her leg, his lips on hers, his tongue on her neck. She got out of bed, and the room seemed claustrophobic, too small. It was no longer cosy and comfy and pleasant. It was choking and suffocating. She needed to get out.
She changed as quickly as possible and went downstairs.
Narcissa was the only one awake at this time, sitting at the dining table with some sort of fancy breakfast in front of her.
She looked up eagerly at Andromeda's entrance.
Narcissa, though cold, was very open with Andromeda in particular. They were much closer to each other than either was to Bellatrix, and the two had used to share a room, talking late into the night about useless gossip.
Cissy was also very beautiful (when she wasn't pulling the dung smelling face, anyway). She had platinum blonde hair and her Black grey eyes were a darker shade, and very earnest. She hadn't developed an unpleasant aura, nor did she look down on people. She was young and naïve and didn't understand. Not yet.
"Rabastan said he was going to bid you goodnight," the fifteen-year-old said.
"He did."
"And? Was it … pleasant?"
Andromeda looked at the eager expression on her younger sister's innocent face, so unspoilt and young and untainted with cruelty. She looked so happy for her, unaware of Andromeda's true thoughts, unaware of the unfairness life could bring. Andromeda wished her the very best life with Lucius Malfoy.
Andromeda also knew that whatever she said, nothing would change, because she was engaged and everything was organised already, and Rabastan wouldn't be breaking it off with her in a hurry.
"Yes," she lied, "Very pleasant."
1/1/1970
Judy,
Happy New Year! Let's hope we can make it a good one.
Nothing's really happened - I haven't even spoken to my new fiancé yet - and I'm terribly bored. I must have read that book you got me four times already.
Rabastan is finally leaving today, so maybe my family with stop nattering on about weddings and whatnot. How did Bella survive it? She has terrible patience, yet she went through all this? I guess her a Rodolphus are a match made in Heaven (or Hell). Honestly, this is so tiring.
I'm still trying to teach Sirius the art of gossip, and he even brought eight-year-old Regulus along for the 'lesson'. I'm becoming a rather good teacher!
...if only gossiping was a subject.
See you in three days,
Andromeda.
Three days. Just three days and she could be out of this hellhole.
So, tell me what you think!