Shades of Coral
Word Count: 1,578
Written For:
- Jenny for the Epic Exchange Forum, prompt used: (Song Lyric) "He'll never love you like I can."
"Andromeda, please reconsider your decision not to come to the mixer tonight." Narcissa was standing in front of the vanity in Andromeda's room, carefully applying lipstick. She was in a robe, but her pale blonde hair was twisted in an intricate manner on top of her head. She pressed her lips together and smiled at her reflection once she was done, replacing the lipstick back inside the drawer, and turned around to face Andromeda.
"You know that I could have an infection or anything, don't you?" Andromeda muttered, not looking up from the book that she was engrossed in. "You're not meant to share lipsticks."
Narcissa rolled her eyes and perched on the edge of Andromeda's bed. "You never wear make-up, so I have nothing to fear. Plus, it looks much prettier on me," she fluttered her eyelashes girlishly, and Andromeda glanced at her younger sister, trying to repress a laugh. Narcissa grinned. "You're giggling. Come on, please come to the mixer."
"Bellatrix will be there," Andromeda replied in a bored tone. "She will be excited to see you, I'm sure." Bellatrix had lived in the Lestrange Mansion from the moment that she had married Rodolphus early last winter, just a few months after she had completed her final year at Hogwarts. The eldest sister rarely returned to visit her family at their house, something which Andromeda was quite glad of. With Bellatrix living on the other side of London and her father usually out of town on business, it gave her much more time to be alone. Now that Narcissa was engaged to Lucius Malfoy, the family were expecting Andromeda to be married before the year was out.
So far, she was managing to keep her relationship with Ted Tonks very private. Narcissa was the only one who knew, after she had caught them snogging behind a tapestry at Hogwarts, but she had been sworn to secrecy. Of course, Narcissa didn't approve of the relationship, but she also couldn't bear the thought of Andromeda being cast out of the family.
"Bellatrix is so boring since she got married," Narcissa went on. She crawled further up the bed, fluttering her long eyelashes at Andromeda. "Please, Andy," she simpered. "You never know, you might meet someone..."
Andromeda snapped her book shut sharply and whacked Narcissa up the side of the head with it, causing the younger girl to glare and hurry back over to the vanity, re-pinning her hair. "I don't need to meet someone, how many times am I going to have this conversation with you?" she threw the book in Narcissa's direction, and it hit her squarely between the shoulders. She whirled around, shooting Andromeda a death stare.
"Stop throwing your stupid Muggle book at me!" she yelled, kicking the book over so that the cover was displayed. "Little Women," she scoffed, eyeing it disdainfully.
"I have plans tonight. I'm going to write to Ted, and—"
"Shh!" hissed Narcissa. She hurried over to the door and slammed it shut. "Do you want Father to disown you?"
"Father isn't here."
"Mother tells him everything, stupid." Narcissa returned to the vanity, but instead of staring at her reflection, she started opening the drawers. "Get over here and get ready."
"I told you, I'm not going."
"Yes, you are," Narcissa glanced up at the mirror, glaring cruelly at her older sister. Andromeda couldn't mistake the shiver that ran down her spine as she recognised the Bellatrix-like glitter in Narcissa's eyes. "If you don't, I'm going to tell Daddy that you're a blood traitor."
oOo
Less than an hour later, Andromeda was staring up at the impressive, gothic manor house that the Lestrange family lived in. As it was early in the year, it was cold, and the pale red shawl around her shoulders did little to warm her.
She didn't really want to walk into the house alone, but Narcissa had vanished the moment that the Malfoy's had appeared at the side of the road. It was unsightly to enter an event without a man on her arm—at least, that's what her Aunt Walburga had been telling her for years.
Taking a breath, she clutched the shawl around her and advanced up the vast stairs, hoping that she would be able to slip into the house unnoticed. She had no such luck.
The entryway stretched out into a vast ballroom, complete with a self-playing harp and couples watching over the party from balconies. A bar had been set up in the far side of the ballroom, with a waiter mixing cocktails behind it. Andromeda tunnelled her vision towards the bar, and headed straight there.
She perched on a barstool and the waiter smiled at her toothily. "What would you like to drink, Miss Black?"
Andromeda didn't know who the waiter was, but it wasn't the first time she had been recognised by various family friends. "What wine do you have?"
"Only red," the waiter replied, reaching for a glass. Andromeda shuddered - she had never enjoyed the richness of red wine. He noticed her grim expression and stifled a laugh. "You might enjoy a cocktail, though—maybe a Strawberry Daiquiri?"
"That sounds quite nice, actually. Sure, I'll have—"
"—she will drink a red wine," a smooth voice cut over her. "Make that two, Rosier."
The waiter—Rosier—nodded sharply, and bent down below the bar to grab a bottle. Andromeda furrowed her brow and turned to glare at the man who had interrupted her, ready to give him a piece of her mind. Her words were caught in her throat, however, when she realised just who he was.
A familiar strong, chiselled jaw, outlined with the lightest of stubble. Cold, steel-grey eyes, flecked with speckles of blue and lined with oddly thick eyelashes, and shoulder-length chestnut-coloured hair that was pulled back in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. A slanted, sneering smirk set on his features caused goosebumps to rise down the length of Andromeda's spine. He held out his hand, and Andromeda automatically placed her fingers in his palm, as was polite. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles, not once breaking eye contact with her. "Miss Andromeda," he greeted softly, his breath tickling her hand.
"Rabastan," Andromeda replied, trying to keep her voice cool. Rabastan Lestrange was an old flame—she had entertained a brief relationship with him during their fifth year. She had never really enjoyed his overbearing and slightly controlling personality, and had only really continued dating him because it pleased her father—and Bellatrix. She had broken off their relationship as soon as possible.
However, she didn't remember Rabastan being so tall and good looking. Come to think of it, she could hardly remember his presence during Bellatrix and Rodolphus's wedding.
"Coral," Rabastan continued fluidly, taking the bottle of red wine from Rosier and gesturing for him to leave with a flap of his hand. "You're not properly attired, Andromeda."
"I beg your pardon?" she demanded to know, narrowing her eyes at her companion. Narcissa had briefly mentioned the theme of dressing in red, and although Andromeda barely owned anything in such a vibrant colour, she had still managed to dress to the theme by dying a grey dress. It was a halter-necked, slim-fitting, floor-sweeping gown, now a summery shade of orangey-red. "I'm wearing red."
"You're wearing coral," Rabastan corrected. "The invitation strictly prohibits shades of orange and pink."
Andromeda narrowed her eyes at Rabastan, trying to determine whether or not he was joking. His face was stern and motionless, but there was a dangerous glint in his silvery eyes. "Well, I'm sure no one will miss me if I leave," she purred, making to stand up. Rabastan's hand shot out and rested on her upper thigh, preventing her from climbing to her feet. She raised an eyebrow, but he didn't move his hand.
"I think I'll let you off," he murmured, his voice as smooth as silk. Andromeda noticed just how close Rabastan's face had advanced upon her. She felt like she was falling face first into those alluring opalescent pools. "Coral is, after all, such a pretty colour when contrasted with your skin."
"Why red?" Andromeda suddenly asked. It was an odd colour choice for most Pureblood social events like this. Black Family soirées were usually a strict black-tie event, and others generally followed the same rules—black and white, occasionally splashing colours of navy or purple. Summery colours were always avoided, even in the warmer months.
"It's the colour of extremes," Rabastan answered, his smirk melting into a more genuine smile. "It's the colour of passionate love, seduction, and danger. What other colour would represent what I am looking for at this mixer?" The smirk returned once again.
Andromeda felt her heart flutter. She was sure that Rabastan, who had once proclaimed that he was a womaniser, was flirting with her.
She was in dangerous territory. Rabastan was giving off such seductive vibes; she was sure that a few more moments under his spell would lead her into bed with him. "I have to go," she stated quickly, pushing Rabastan's hand from her thigh and jumping to her feet.
"He'll never love you like I can, Andromeda," he said softly, so quietly that Andromeda almost heard it. Her heart swelled as she looked at him—but she couldn't stay.
She couldn't allow herself to be led down Rabastan's rabbit hole, not when she already had promised herself to another.