A\N-Hey everyone this is my story that I've uploaded on Fanfiction so I hope you like it.

Disclaimer-if this was mine, it would not be published on a FANfiction website.

Roll-of-the-red

First and Foremost a Black

Chapter 1

Problem #1 (with being a Black) : Your parents bribe hotel desk clerks and speak of stockpiling muggles and\\or muggleborns.

It was in that half-waking yet still half-asleep state that my thoughts ran wild, tangled up and galloping at full speed like a herd of wild horses.
Here, there was nobody to tell me what to do and what not to do.
Hell-here, I could plan out my wedding to a muggle (not that I'd want to) and no one would be the wiser.
I kept my eyes closed, though I could just make out the light drifting in through the drapes and painting a fiery orange mural on the inside of my eyelids. It wasn't long before my peaceful abode was popped like a bubble.
"Muggles and Mudbloods, filthy and poor,
Out on the streets, or we'll show them the door!
If they won't leave then we'll show them our wand,
A flash of green light and they're gone, gone gone!"
Bellatrix's low voice floated through the halls accompanying her erratic footfalls-she was skipping.

"Wake up, Andromeda!" She bellowed, banging on my door. "Hurry and pack, I've got to go get Cissy up!" I heard her footsteps fade as she took up her song again, the second verse cruder than the fist.

"Mmmgggh," I groaned, yanking my pillow from underneath my head and pushing the cool side against my face, my eyes still closed. If I didn't open my eyes at all, could it technically still be yesterday? If I hadn't yet seen today, is it really happening?

I wasn't a morning person.

I pulled myself into a sitting position, feeling slow and sluggish, like the air around me had turned to honey. I could imagine how I looked-light brown hair a rat's nest, all piled up on top of my head and slumped to the side in a tangled mess, tank top sleeve slipping off my shoulder.

I grabbed my wand and spared myself the trouble of attacking the mess with a brush, charming my waves to untangle and transform into a style somewhat presentable.

Underage magic?

Definitely, I was only sixteen.

But did we, the Black sisters, pureblood Princesses, have to worry about it?

Absolutely not.

I looked at my sisters, still as statues and cold and beautiful as ice sculptures. They coolly observed the commotion down at the Ministry below them. There were flashes of spitting green fire and dress robe-clad workers jumping suddenly from the flames.

Our parents stood behind us at the back of the balcony overlooking the main floor, talking quietly with the Chief Executive of the Portkey Department. We were going to Paris.

The workers below called out to one another, shaking hands and exclaiming, smiling and laughing. Paper airplanes flying by themselves crossed near us, and Bellatrix snatched one out of the air, beginning to peel it open with long, pale fingers topped with claw-like fingernails.

Narcissa snickered, and I edged closer to the strong charismatic auras of power they were both emitting.

The corner of Bellatrix's mouth pulled slowly into a mean grin, dark eyes glittering.

"Dear N," she read in a nasally voice, looking at me and motioning me closer.

"Come on, Andi! Do you want to hear or not!" It wasn't a question. And I never knew anything else but to follow Bella's every wit and whim.

"I haven't stopped thinking about last night. I've admired you for a while now, but haven't been so hopeful as to assume you felt the same way until yesterday! I hope I can see you again, but as I'm sure you know, the Ministry discourages relationships between workers. Until this changes, we must keep ourselves a secret, my love. I will enjoy fooling everyone by acting as though we mean nothing to one another. It can be a game.

With Love,

B

"My my, what a sappy little love story," Narcissa's bell-like voice condemned, disgust wrinkling her white little nose.

"If my husband ever speaks to me in such a way, I'll slit his throat in his sleep," Bella intoned lightly.

"I quite agree," Narcissa sniffed. "What do you think, Andi?"

"I-yes," I nodded.

"Come walk with me," Cissy inquired, linking her arm through mine. She was only fifteen-a year younger than me, and Bellatrix was a year older-but already she looked like a grown witch. We were like dolls, to be dressed and prettied up like ornaments, symbols of our parents successful, pureblooded marriage.

We were all adorned in similar dress robes, expensive and intricately designed with green inflections, emphasizing our Slytherin-ness. I closed my eyes briefly, shuddering. I didn't want to think about how I almost wasn't one of them. A Ravenclaw. That was what the Hat had wanted me to be. I had begged, pleaded, and groveled to be a Slytherin, to be put with Bellatrix. My sister. That was what everyone was expecting. What I was expecting.

Then Slytherin it is, the Hat had said. You'd fit in both equally well, you know. SLYTHERIN!

Then I had gone to sit with my sister.

"Andi-Andromeda!" Cissy was gently shaking my arm, bringing me out of my trance.

"Huh?" I turned to look at her, pale skin and hair that was practically white, icy blue eyes and a string of milky pearls adorning her neck.

"You're tuning out again. Aren't you exited for Paris?" She widened her eyes a bit, nodding slightly to encourage me.

"Yeah, I am," I nodded slightly.

"Don't be such an old woman, Andromeda. Have some fun! Look at those pathetic mudbloods down there, breathing in their own filth. It's sickening," Bellatrix came up behind us, her low, throaty, yet strangely melodic voice slicing through the air like a knife.

I didn't know what to think of my family's blood prejudice. It wasn't as easy to turn away from the opinions that have been emblazoned within you your whole life than those who weren't in the situation themselves believed. I was caught in a war, with a foot planted on either side.

Even if I could turn away, would I want to?

My eyes fell upon a moving picture on a Wanted poster of a dark-haired man, a flash of red eyes within an impossibly pale, almost inhuman face. He laughed cruelly at whoever took the picture, throwing his head back. The picture flashed green within the paper, so bright I had to close my eyes. When I opened them again, there was a mark in the midnight sky, the same color as the flash of light. Emerald.

It was a skull, with a snake winding out of its mouth. I shuddered unintentionally, and had to turn away. Something about that mark...

"Lord Voldemort," Bellatrix breathed, snatching the picture off the wall and bringing it close to her nose.

"The Ministry still hasn't gotten it figured out how he's doing all those killings and torturings without anyone finding out until after they've already happened," I blurted. "Him and his followers." They both turned to look at me. All of us-the Blacks-knew all about it, though. It was our family who supplied him the most followers, our family who practically held tryouts for honored positions in his rank.

Murderous, bloody tryouts, but tryouts nonetheless.

"They don't exactly look at what's right under their noses, do they?" Narcissa began, looking sideways at Bellatrix to gauge her reaction. Her face was expressionless.

"I want to take the initiation," Bella said breathlessly, looking at the picture of Voldemort with some sort of longing.

"You want to kill a muggle to get into his little group?" I snapped.

"Shut up, Andromeda, you've got no idea what you're talking about. Don't worry yourself with things that are out of your concern."

I stayed silent. I didn't want to place myself on Bellatrix's bad side. So I didn't speak. Again. But I held her gaze, the air between us filling with tension. Cissy's eyes darted back and forth.

I was always the first to look away.

"Get ready, girls," Mother's light, lilting voice floated over as she took mine and Cissy's arms, steering us all toward the Portkey. We each arranged ourselves in a neat little circle around a miniature statue of the Eiffel Tower.

"Have a nice trip!" The man who'd set our Portkey up called after us, waving merrily with a gap-toothed smile. Bella nudged my arm and snickered, and I let out a short, half-hearted laugh. Father smiled briefly at us, a rare occasion, and suddenly the spinning began and the walls of the Ministry disappeared.

"We'd like to check in please, master suites reserved for Black," my father said coolly, his voice sounding commanding and powerful. Mother stood on his arm, holding herself like royalty-which she practically was. Bellatrix stood immediately behind them, dark and beautiful, and without a doubt a Black through and through. She had never had a questioning thought concerning whether or not she belonged. Narcissa, slight and fair, beautiful as well. Not as lusting for power or blood as much as Bellatrix. An ice princess.

And me. Andromeda. I was plain-I didn't mind. It was the truth.

Being pretty can reel a boy in but it can't make him stay, my father had whispered to me once, in one of his moments. Besides, he had corrected himself. You're pureblooded, rich, and a 'll be getting proposals left and right straight out of Hogwarts.

But I did look like them, though, there was no questioning that. I was some sort of medium between Cissy and Bella's stark opposites-light brown hair and brown eyes.And sometimes, late at night, half asleep, I would think dangerous thoughts. What if...what if muggle-borns aren't inferior to us? What if Voldemort is as evil as the rest say he is? What if...

A thought is fine. My thoughts are my own. So long as I do not let my thoughts guide my actions, I will be safe. After all, I am a Slytherin through and through. I think before I speak. I hide my emotions almost as well as Bellatrix. I am a Black first, and Andromeda second. That is what I have always been taught.

Besides, maybe the thoughts are wrong. Maybe I am wrong, and the teensie hint of rebellion I have been nursing these last few months toward the way my life has always been...maybe that is normal, and I will go back to my unquestioning self soon.

Soon.

I looked out behind us. Wizards and witches and children lounged about, sitting on the edge of the towering fountain in the middle of the marbled floor, laughing and chatting and looking at us curiously.

"And-and the family next to us, what of their blood status?" My mother asked quietly, leaning in. The man behind the counter, well-groomed and sporting crisp black dress robes, narrowed his eyes slightly. A crinkle in his brow appears.

"Ma'am, I don't have the authority to-" he began in a strong French accent. The high-ceilinged room seemed to quiet a little bit.

"Come on, now. We are the Black family...surely you can just tell us this minor little detail..." my father looked at him with a razor-sharp stare, beginning to stack galleons on the table. The man looked down at them and swallows.

"That is not worth my job," he said quietly, looking firmly back up at my father. "Why do you wish for this information?" My dress robes suddenly felt hot and itchy, and I yearned to throw them off and pull on what a young woman walking across the room from us is wearing. I recognized them as muggle clothes, shorts and a t-shirt, I believe, and they looked more comfortable than even my pajamas.

I felt stiff and awkward and itchy, not proud and beautiful, as Mother says these clothes are supposed to make us feel. A symbol of our wealth and power; that was all that they were.

"Because, Monsieur, my family will not share a wall with those of filthy blood," he said loudly, eyes sharp. Those nearest us turned and stared, lips parted, eyebrows drawn. They weren't sure they'd heard what was an incredibly offensive rudeness that had just flown from my father's mouth.

The man behind the counter stared at him, and his eyes hardened.

"In that case," he began quietly, "You can go and take it up with them yourselves." I wasn't really sure the man knew what he was saying; I was sure he didn't actually expect my father to go and confront them, but he did.

"Believe me, we will," my father said poisonously, snatching his money off the counter and somehow gracefully storming up to the glass elevator, floating in the middle of the floor, waiting.

There was a small stone bridge that ran over a burbling aqua river, and a stone path that led to the elevator. Bellatrix leveled her gaze at the people staring toward us, glaring at them until they lowered their eyes uncomfortably and murmured quietly to the people next to them.

We made it up to the rooms. I stared at the ground. They really had nice carpet here.

"Andromeda, wait here and tell us if that bloody man comes up," my mother ordered, and I looked up to see her eyes flashing.

Bellatrix and Narcissa followed my parents, who walked into the joint living room that branched off not only into our suites, but our neighbors as well. I sank into a plush white couch overlooking the lobby many floors below. This far up, the people were just dark specs moving about, their voices just a dull hum in my ears. I sighed softly, wondering if they knew they were being watched.

"Ah Evelyn, remember when that Transfiguration Professor-Dumbledore, it was-came and told us we were witches? The look on Mum and Dad's face..."

"I believe he's headmaster now, Tricia. Oh hello, young lady! What's your name?" I turned around, startled at their forwardness, cheeks reddening slightly. This was another thing that set me apart from the other Blacks.

I was soooonot graceful and cool in public.

"Andromeda," I managed to utter, not sure if I should look at their eyes or examine my fingernails, or maybe pull at an imaginary bit of dark emerald string coming off my robe. The rich material felt itchy against my skin and I yearned to take it off. It was too tight, I couldn't breathe in all the way. Dress to impress, my parents drilled into my head. I let that rule slip a bit at Hogwarts, but my friends-or friend, really, I only had one real one, I suppose-told me I still dressed stiffly.

"What a lovely name. Don't you think that's a lovely name, Evelyn?" The first woman-Tricia-tall, slightly plump, and maybe in her thirties-turned to her sister.

"I do!" She cried, striding forward and sitting down on the couch next to me. "Tell me, do you go to Hogwarts?"

"Yes," I relaxed my shoulders, just realizing that I had my muscles clenched and making a conscious effort to relax them. "I'm a Slytherin. Did you go to Hogwarts?" Play Narcissa, I hissed inwardly to myself. I was awkward as Andromeda, but playing someone else was something I was good at-if I could just slip into my younger sister's mannerisms, I would be fine.

"Ah, Slytherin!" The first sister-Evelyn, who was seated next to me, sighed. She had dark hair and small, dark eyes, as did Tricia; they must have been twins. Reminiscence took over her expression as she tilted her head back slightly.

From across the hall in front of us, voices began to rise from inside the room, two of them distinctly my parents.

"One of my boyfriends was in Slytherin. I don't recall his name-what was it? Steven, Stephan?"

"Jeremiah," Tricia reminded her lightly, leaning against the banister and looking over at the lobby below. "My, what a view. I think I'm going to get Mum and Dad, show them around..." She was in the room, closing the door behind her before I could tell her it may not be a good idea to step foot in there when my parents were in one of their moods.

The rising voices rose higher, and Tricia's joined them.

"-won't be sharing a room with filth such as yourself, thank you very much-"

"Don't you dare call my parents filth, it's you who disgrace our entire population-!" Tricia's shrill shriek cut in. I closed my eyes and winced.

"Merlin, are those your parents?" When I opened my eyes again, Evelyn was looking at me with a whole new expression on her face. "Why, you're a Black, aren't you?" She said in a strange tone, suddenly sounding cold.

"I am," I whispered, looking at the ground. I was perched at the very edge of the couch, my elbows on my knees. I held my hands laced tightly together, fingers white. "I'm sorry..."

"I think I better go," she said coldly, standing up. Her back was rigid. She did not look at me, but strode proudly into the room, the raging verbal battle within.

That was how our trip to Paris was cancelled, and how we ended up for dinner at Aunt Walburga and Uncle Orion.

"And then they told us to get out, that they didn't want our money. Wizarding society is just not what it used to be," my mother shook her head, eyes reflecting the candles in the dimly lit room. I looked down at the dark wood of the table, jumping slightly when a house elf appeared at my elbow to refill my drink.

Sirius flicked a pea at me from the right, the corner of his lip twitching as he tried to keep an innocent façade. The pea stuck in my pile of potatoes, a fleck of green in a sea of gray. He was only in second year, twelve years old, but already had enough spirit in him to fill a whole house of Blacks. I don't know why he believed in me, thought I was different from them. Was I?

I kicked him under the table, realizing with a start that this was the first time in a long while the corners of my lips had lifted into a real smile. Was this was being happy was? This light-hearted feeling inside me, like something heavy was slowly lifting?

My leaden heart fell back into place with a resounding clang like a lock on a door as Aunt Walburga sharply reprimanded Sirius to stop acting like a child. He met her gaze with a level glower, staring her down.

"Don't look at your mother like that, boy," Uncle Orion snapped, fingers tightening around the silver knife, the Black family crest reflecting the light of the flame.

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes and cast Sirius a triumphant smirk, like he had personally done her wrong.

"Have you stocked up for the initiation yet?" My father asked lightly, tactfully changing the subject. Bellatrix whipped her head up like she was a wolf sniffing for blood. I slouched down in my seat. So did Sirius.

"No, not yet. The Malfoys-Abraxis, Lynae, and their son Lucius are coming to discuss-"

At this point, Narcissa uttered a little moan and my heart felt the pain of a dull-bladed stab.

She looked so tiny across the table from me; her shoulders hunched over and white hands covering her mouth, trembling. Eyes down at her place.

It took so much to break Narcissa's composure. But this did it.

"Are you still going on about Lucius, girl?" Uncle Orion asked gruffly, slamming his hand on the top of her chair, making her jump. Her eyes grew shiny and swam with tears but the she looked him in the eye a minute before nodding.

"It's an honorable marriage," he continued in his gravelly voice. "You should be proud to help the noble family of Blacks, you should be honored to be promised to a Malfoy."

Narcissa said nothing.

"Poor girl, she still hasn't found her feet yet with this marriage deal," my mother sighed, and the matter was promptly forgotten by everyone.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes and blew out her cheeks in an exasperated manner. Mother and Father wouldn't look at Narcissa as she tried to catch their eye in vain. They were ashamed at her lack of composure.

I should have been, too.

I wasn't.

Instead, I felt like crying myself.

I found myself standing up by some other will than mine.

"M-mother, may I walk with Narcissa?" I twisted my hands nervously. All eyes were on me, most shocked. I made myself focus only on Narcissa, who had lowered her hands from her face and lifted her chin, an expression of intense gratitude etched upon her beautiful face.

"You'd better leave and get her head cleared. Come back before the Malfoys get here. Narcissa, do your powder, make yourself look presentable. Look like a Black," Mother ordered, trying for a kind smile. (More like she didn't want Regulus, Sirius, and their parents to see Narcissa's un-Black-like moment.) Sirius snorted. He had seen that false look of nicety many times on his own mother's face and saw right through it.

Just like I did.

Walburga's hand twitched, like she wanted to slap him. She ground her teeth together in her aristocratic but ugly face, math pursed and drawn. Sirius did not flinch.

Little Regulus observed it all, dark eyes wide and watching, sitting at his father's left.

"Let's go, Cissy," I muttered, crossing to the other side of the table and taking her arm.

We made it to the narrow staircase, portraits and different forms of the Black crest adorning every inch of the walls.

The wooden steps creaked under our footfalls. We were otherwise silent. We stopped in the family tree room, where Narcissa immediately began to heave great, heart-wrenching sobs, sinking to her knees and once again taking on the looks of my vulnerable little sister that disappeared when Mother and Father try and stomp it out of her.

"Oh, Cissy," I whispered, sinking to the floor with her and wrapping my arms around her small frame which was shaking with violent sobs. "Narcissa...I wish I could do it instead..." I murmured. She laid her head on my shoulder, and I rested my head on hers.

"I-I know," she gasped, shuddering. "I just-I just-Andi, I can't have a single boyfriend-I-I know I'm allowed to, but I just-that feeling, that no matter how much we end up liking each other, at the end of the day it's always, always going to be Lucius who I have to get married to..." she sobbed. "And that's not even the main problem. I don't love him, Andi! I can't! I never will!" She wailed, sobbing harder than ever. "I can't marry him!"

"You're only fifteen, Cissy," I whispered, not knowing what else to say. "You might end up loving him yet."

I couldn't help but think how this had almost been me, sobbing on the floor of our cousins' house.

I had almost been the one promised to Lucius Malfoy. Until my parents changed their minds and said that it wasn't fitting for a bride to be older than her groom. Which was, of course, ridiculous. Lucius was only a year younger than I.

My little sister took my place.

"We can run away, you and I, Cissy," I whispered, half-serious. "We could..."

"No," Cissy gasped, her sobs beginning to slow. She sat up and began to straighten herself out, wiping her tears with trembling hands. "I-I can't do that either. You see, I'm stuck." Her tears began to start again and she covered her face, shoulders heaving. "I've got to stay and do my duty for my family," she said, her voice muffled. "That's what I need to do."

I stayed silent for a moment's pause. Then, quietly-

"No, you don't," I muttered under my breath and something strong coursed through my veins, making my heart skip and leap. I felt strong for a moment, like I could stand up to my parents.

But then it left me, and I wondered if it had really been there in the first place, and if I wanted it to be or not.

"There, now you look like an ice princess again," I smiled at Narcissa in the mirror, tucking the last curl back into her updo. She smiled at me in the mirror, a small, drawn smile. We had re-powdered and make-uped and un-rumpled clothes. "He's handsome, at least," I whispered to her when I saw her smile disappear. She nodded slightly.

"At least," she giggled, and I was so relieved that I began to giggle myself.

"It'll work out," I promised in a whisper as we walked out the door, and I put a hand on her shoulder as we came into view of the kitchen.

"At least our girls will never marry muggleborns," Mother was talking as we came in. "We'll never see them again if they do, yes Bellatrix?"

"Yes, Mother," she nodded.

A\N-Any reviews for a first time author?