A/N:

I don't imagine that this will be very popular. I probably should care, but I don't. Let's just say that I need a way to let the anger out without screaming. Probably just like Andromeda. Or maybe Andromeda's like me in this case.


When she's angry, Andromeda pounds her fists on the tiles of the bathroom and screams inside.

It's an odd thing. Anger.

It wells up inside you, swirls and pushes, chokes until you feel as if your face should be blue, and causes you to do rebellious things.

Good things.

Things you do especially just to spite others.

And it makes you think thoughts that should never be voiced in real life.

Thoughts that don't just appear, but seem as if they were just there all along. Like a string of words blotted out with a blob of whiteout, but are instantly legible when you peel off the long-dried paste. They're not clear, that's for sure, but they're there, signifying that the thoughts have been there all the time, that it's not your own fault for thinking them, that it's everyone else's fault but yours.

Aunt Walburga is strong enough to yell at her own son but never brave enough to just stand up to Mother about Andromeda for once. Aunt Walburga comforts her, dotes on her, but never helps her.

The side of her fist hurts where she hits it against the tiled wall. At least the use of her hand is one thing she has control over. Wish. She. Could. Hit. Them. But she doesn't dare. It's a hard thing to admit. And there goes another scream inside.

Mother's theories get crazier and crazier. No, Father isn't poisoning her. And he doesn't have a mistress. Who in their right mind puts two locks on every door especially to ward off her 'poisoning' husband, tells that very husband every single combination spell, and then claims that he poisoned her just because she became a little nauseous in the mornings? Even if he did, it's her own fault.

The bathroom wall suffer a particular vicious punch. Andromeda Black is not cold. Anybody who suffers the entirely undeserved mood swings of Her Highness Druella Rosier Black will not be very sympathetic. It also doesn't help that Druella Black isn't exactly repentant and insists that Andromeda has mood swings. She also insists that of Cygnus, Bellatrix, and Narcissa also do. Moodswings must be contagious.

And with a batshit insane mother goes a no better father. Oh, Andromeda loves him. Just as she loves her mother and her aunt. She loves him when he rages with Mother. She loves him when he doesn't behave like a regular father should. She loves him when he doesn't even behave like the smallest definition of a Black, regal, not totally disagreeable, hell, just not lying for once!

Andromeda loves them all.

She wished always.

She used to hope that Cygnus Black wasn't her father when she was younger and prone to the fantasies of six-year-olds, hopeful that her real mother was Aunt Walburga, who was always caring and doting and strong, and that her real father was her Uncle Orion, who was gruff, but sweet in his own way.

But now?

They're really just all the same.

And Andromeda adds a vengeful kick to the bathroom wall along with a furious punch.

It hurts but she doesn't dare scream.

She's not going to give them the satisfaction.

One more thing she has in her power.


A/N:

Word count: 538

Written for Hogwarts School of Challenges and Assignments:

Assignment 2:

Geography Task 3: Write about a dramatic burial. Alt: Write about a far-fetched explanation.