A/N: Written for the Song Inspiration Challenge set by Cheeky Slytherin Lass on HPFC. I chose the character of Andromeda Tonks and I was given the song title 'Close Enough to Perfect'. It turns out that it is a lot longer than I expected.
WARNING: Slight mention of abuse.
I own nothing.
Andromeda was a blank piece of paper, just waiting to be filled in.
In her youth, her parents pencilled in the basic pureblood etiquette 'you're pure blooded, that means you're better than anyone else, you must remain proud and graceful at all times, being a Black means that you're one of the privileged, Andromeda, are you listening?' (They forgot that pencil could be rubbed out)
Throughout her childhood, the family motto was inked in meticulously 'Toujours Pur, Andromeda, remember that, Toujours Pur' (but, luckily, Andromeda had a different idea from her family of what made one 'pure')
During her childhood, her paper became ripped and torn, what with Druella's lack of love, Cygnus' absence and ignorance and the fact that she was supposed to be a worthy male heir, which Cygnus constantly reminded her of and the bruises that littered her back, after she'd got a bit outspoken about the correct treatment of house elves ('foolish girl! We are above them. They exist to do our bidding! Foolish girl!'). Andromeda always kept her tongue around her father from then on and she never trusted him from that day on.
When she was eleven, she discovered a Muggle book in a forgotten corner of the Black library and slowly, the Pureblood pencil marks began to be erased. They weren't fully gone until she was fifteen. And the rest is history.
And then, at age thirteen, she met Ted Tonks, a funny, carefree Hufflepuff Muggleborn (the very scum of the Earth, according to Black customs) with a charming smile. And Ted Tonks was funny and Ted Tonks was lively and Ted Tonks gave Andromeda Black something to smile about again. And slowly, Ted Tonks began to repair the ripped, curled and worn pages of the girl that was Andromeda Black.
And at age sixteen, she kisses him. Her parents would never approve, she knows that (perhaps that's why she's doing it) but it's Ted (she considers that she's doing it as an act of rebellion for a moment before she realises that it's because perhaps, this might be love) and she sees fireworks in her mind and she knows that this is what she wants. And slowly, Ted Tonks filled in the blanks, and made Andromeda Black into a brightly coloured, riot of colour and shapes that screamed happiness and whispered tales of sweet kisses behind tapestries and secret moonlit meetings.
Andromeda Black was a blank piece of paper, waiting to be filled in. But then Ted Tonks came along and he filled in the blanks and he made Andromeda into a masterpiece.
"It was a book," Narcissa whispered, looking down at the mahogany polished floorboards.
"A book?!" Cygnus shouted with anger in his cold grey eyes, his voice threatening.
"Yes… Andromeda… She was always reading a Muggle book. I think she found it in the library." Narcissa whispered, her eyes glued firmly down.
"THE LIBRARY!?" Cygnus roared, dragging Druella roughly by her arm into the dressing room.
Narcissa ran up to her room, as she listened to the distant sounds of screaming emanating from one of the downstairs room. She hated betraying Andy's trust but it would just be beaten out of her otherwise.
It was the book in the end, so every single book that could possibly paint a negative image of blood purity or the Black family was subsequently burnt and the library was locked up for evermore.
At dinner the same evening, Cygnus is nowhere to be seen and Druella has a large gash stretching across her cheek and says, in a shaking voice, "don't talk about that brat anymore. You hear me, Narcissa? Just don't."
The next day, they visit Grimmauld Place. Walburga blasts Andromeda's face off the tapestry as Druella drinks tumbler after tumbler of Firewhisky and Cygnus laughs manically (because after all, they're all a bit crazy underneath the cover of haughtiness and pride). Narcissa keeps her face in the blank, emotionless mask that she perfects later in life but really, inside, she's crying over the loss of her favourite sister: not the brat that ran off with a Muggleborn, but Andy, the sister that healed her cuts and bruises and read her bedtime stories.
Because once upon a time, Andromeda Black was the perfect sister but now, she's just an empty room with a lingering scent and a scorch mark on a tapestry.
She swears she'll never tell anyone and she doesn't (well, except Ted, but they tell each other everything), but Andromeda Black very nearly became a Ravenclaw. Of course, back then she was a first year who was still a Black, still held some belief in the Black family ways and was eager to prove herself as the perfect daughter that she had never quite been before. Slytherin was the only way to do that, in her mind.
The sorting hat whispered tempting thoughts in her ear about how she could make her name in Ravenclaw and about how she didn't have to be a Slytherin and that Ravenclaw would help her achieve greatness but Andromeda resisted, fearful of her parent's reactions. She breathed a sigh of relief when the hat announced: "Ravenclaw would help you achieve so much more but, if you're sure, then it'll have to be SLYTHERIN!"
She strode over to the table under the snakes, which was filled with pupils applauding wildly, her heart still thumping wildly. If she'd been sorted into Ravenclaw, her family would never forgive her. She had to be a Slytherin – how else would she become the perfect daughter?
Five years later, when Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor and Andromeda was slowly losing faith in the Black ways, she watched as he walked to the lion's table and watched as he got a Howler the next day at breakfast and she wondered, for a fleeting moment, how her family would have reacted if she was a Ravenclaw? What would their reaction be?
Deep down, she almost felt a tiny bit jealous of Sirius' bravery – being a Ravenclaw would have meant that she could thrive in a house without her elder sister always watching her. But she brushed that thought away. After all, at the time, all she'd wanted was to be the perfect Black daughter and Ravenclaw would have hindered that.
But, still, she couldn't help but wonder.
Andromeda was never going to be the perfect Black daughter, really. She always wanted to be, but she wasn't haughty and fierce like Bella, nor was she sly and proud like Cissy. She wasn't ruthless enough, she wasn't twisted enough, and really she was just too kind.
Bellatrix was the Amazonian, all sharp angles and thick dark hair and aristocratic features and dark grey eyes that had a glint of twisted madness in them (she'd never noticed that until she looked closely). Bella was fiercely protective of her younger sisters yet at the same time, she didn't really trust them. It was Bella that taught them to dance and Bella that taught them how to dress and Bella that taught them how to defend themselves. But Bellatrix Black taught them how to perform Unforgivables and performed them on her sisters (Andromeda was ten and she insulted Bella and next thing she knew, she was on her back writing in agony, looking up at her manic sister) and Bellatrix Black laughed when they hurt themselves and Bellatrix Black would never show any display of affection towards them.
Narcissa was the Daffodil, all shiny pale blonde hair and blue eyes that held a glint of sneakiness and vanity and pale skin with the barest hint of a blush and an angelic radiance with a clear laugh (it only became cold when Andy left). Cissy was beautiful and happy and Cissy would dance around their home just to wake people up and Cissy would dress up in Druella's old jewellery and clothes and pretend she was royalty or a princess or whatever she fancied. But Narcissa Black was sly and Narcissa Black would twist stories and Narcissa Black could be vain and Narcissa Black could be lead blindly.
And Andromeda? She was the Galaxy. She was supposed to be the shining mass of stars and light, but instead she curled up in the library reading and read Narcissa bedtime stories and refused to let House Elves tidy her room for her and wore her hair just how she liked it, even if Druella didn't approve. Andromeda was almost exactly as a Black should be. Her hair was almost black, but it was dark brown instead, her eyes were almost steely grey, but they were slightly blue and slightly kinder, her face was almost as aristocratic, but it was slightly softer, slightly kinder.
When they had their yearly family portrait done, Druella would look at the finished photo and sigh. Bellatrix, the perfect Black, would be looking regal and haughty, just as she should be. Narcissa was just like a Rosier, looking beautiful and composed. But Andromeda was somewhere in between, and she would be looking graceful and kind, but just a tad nervous. "Almost perfect," was Druella's comment every year without fail (until Andromeda left, and then Druella could barely bring herself to look at the picture).
Bellatrix was the dark, with her dark looks, her black heart and her shadowy conceptions of what was right and was not (really, she was just twisted underneath).
Narcissa was the light, with her white-blonde hair, her innocence and her sunny outlook on life (when Andromeda left, sunny outlook was laid to rest, along with Andy's forgotten possessions).
Andromeda was somewhere in between, with her soft looks, her kindness and her thirst for knowledge (really, Andromeda was the kind, the soft and the light).
She wanted to be the perfect Black daughter, but she was neither Black nor Rosier, dark nor light. She was always just Andromeda.
Sixteen year old Andromeda Black walked along the corridor, her head held high and her stature graceful. She suddenly came to a stop in front of an old tapestry and she looked left and right. When she was sure the coast was clear, she ducked behind it, and emerged into a secret passageway.
There he stood, waiting for her. Suddenly, everything felt better.
In the end, her family could call her a blood traitor all they wanted, Bellatrix could try and curse her as much as she wanted in the common room but she didn't really care. She was glad to be free of the Blacks.
After all, Bellatrix became unhinged and spent most of her life in a dark, lonely cell in Azkaban, all for the sake of a man that could never love her back.
Narcissa married for wealth and spent most of her life trying to avoid a stay in Azkaban and fretting over the fate of her husband and son.
Cygnus gambled away his fortune and drowned his sorrows in alcohol, a lonely man whose marriage wasn't quite good enough and his heirs not satisfactory enough.
Druella put on her finery and kept her face as a blank mask all the while trying to hide the pattern of scars that covered her porcelain arm and her shaking hands as she downed another tumbler of whiskey ('just one more, Walburga, please. Just one more'). It never was just one more.
But Andromeda lived a happy life and she married the love of her life and had one beautiful, lively daughter. She was never the perfect Pureblood nor was she ever the perfect Black but for Ted, she was close enough to perfect for him.
Once when she was twelve, Andromeda asked Druella why she was named 'Andromeda'.
"It's because it's a very large galaxy and you were going to be," Druella paused, words left unsaid hanging between them "the Black family galaxy. Stop slouching!"
Andromeda knew she meant 'supposed to be' and she went to the library and researched it.
She found out that the Andromeda galaxy was going to collide with the Milky Way in billions of years, destroying the Earth. Maybe her family was just waiting for her collision after all.
It came four years later.
Andromeda Black was a blank, torn piece of paper but Andromeda Tonks was a masterpiece.