No one ever goes into the cemetery in the very back of the estate, past the
house and the gardens, past the lake. It was ancient, filled with
mausoleums built in time immemorial to hold those Blacks who wanted to
prove that even dead they could be rich and threatening.
At the entrance there stands a sort of gazebo, a dome supported by four angels with wings outstretched. No one ever used it. No one, that is, except for the young girl who has just appeared there with a pop and the young boy who is softly landing his broom just outside the structure.
They have been here many times. When they were young, he would row her out across the lake to their secret hiding place. They could laugh and talk for hours there, in the most unlikely of settings. They fell in and out of love with each other a thousand times in that cemetery, filled with forgotten names and cold stone.
He enters and they embrace like old friends would. The embrace changes to something more. She pushes him away. He recites a charm at the floor and they sit. He just stares at her for a moment.
"So it's true," Regulus says. It is not a question, not a resignation, merely a statement of fact. She nods. A Gryffindor. A mudblood. Anyone else and he would be furious. But this is Andromeda. Getting angry at her never did solve anything. He merely does what he has trained himself to do, breathes in deeply, forces his brain beyond it, tries to find a way out.
"I'm leaving, Reggie," Andromeda tells him, the slightest hint of wavering in her voice. He catches it. "I don't want to live this life anymore. I want to be with Ted. He really loves me, and we're moving in together after graduation." She seems very silly and small in this moment. Even his name feels inadequate, pure and plain, not full of hidden meanings like Regulus's and hers. He catches the hesitation in her voice and pounces.
"You don't mean that, Andi," he says, his voice just barely pleading. "You belong here."
She puts her hand on his face, shaking her head. "No. This isn't my world anymore."
"You're just doing it because he left," he says, his voice nearly brushing rage. He has always secretly thought that she preferred his former brother- the blood traitor. She sighs. "Not this again, Regulus." She couldn't begin to count the number of times they'd covered this same ground. She cannot let herself be torn between her two cousins again. Sirius drags her in with his ideas; Regulus drags her in with his unlikely love. Andromeda has half a mind to let him believe it this time. It would make her task easier.
He kisses her, and she forgets to fight.
"I want to marry you, Andromeda," he says, and she can almost believe it for a moment. Their marriage would be ideal- the pureblood lines are becoming muddied and dying out; she knows this full well. She would never want for anything. She can almost feel herself being taken in.
But then she remembers. Thinks about the heads of house elves on the walls, thinks about the Mark on her sister's skin, thinks about Sirius's father, her flesh and blood, using Crucio against his own son. She remembers why she is leaving.
"No," she says, shaking her head. "I can't, Reggie. How could I live like this? Fancy parties of people who hate each other, living in a house that's like a museum, I can't take it. I have to go. For my own sake." Absently, her hand finds his forearm. He flinches, recoils from her touch. She goes white. It is as if she's just been run through.
"No," she says in a hoarse whisper. "You can't have-" But he silently lifts the sleeve of his robe, showing the skull seared into his flesh. He is almost ashamed of it.
She screams at him until her voice goes, pounding on his chest as he holds her back. She finds herself lying in his arms, crying and holding him as if her entire life depended upon it.
"Why?" she asks him simply through the dregs of her tears. He takes a deep breath.
"Because it's right," he tells her, trying to convince himself that he's not lying. "Because our way of life is threatened by interference. Because if I don't, then I'm to blame if our family name dies in obscurity. Because I have to."
She looks at him with eyes so clear that it pains him just now to see them. It's as if she's looking into his soul.
"You don't mean any of that, Reggie," she tells him. And of course, he doesn't. He can't. Just when he was starting to believe.
They say nothing more for a long time. They sit that way as the sun sets and a light rain sets in. He puts his cloak around her when she gets cold. They know it is the end, if only for them, though it feels like the end of the world.
No one ever goes into the cemetery in the very back of the estate, though there is a fresh grave clearly visible. No one, that is, except the young man sleeping soundly in the ground and the young woman who stands over him, her eyes dry.
She will never know if it was her voice in his head that made him flinch at just the wrong moment, if it was her urging that made him disobey a command, if it were her words that made him stand up to Him. Andromeda doesn't care to know just what it was that made the Dark Lord dispose of him. She lost him a long time before.
Sometimes when the wind is right she can hear him call her. He can hear him tell her that everything is right and that she is back where she belongs. It takes all that she has in her to walk away, to turn her back on him, to go back home. She turns, regards him one last time. She can almost see him there. But she won't be dragged back in this time. This time it is too late.
She disappears.
At the entrance there stands a sort of gazebo, a dome supported by four angels with wings outstretched. No one ever used it. No one, that is, except for the young girl who has just appeared there with a pop and the young boy who is softly landing his broom just outside the structure.
They have been here many times. When they were young, he would row her out across the lake to their secret hiding place. They could laugh and talk for hours there, in the most unlikely of settings. They fell in and out of love with each other a thousand times in that cemetery, filled with forgotten names and cold stone.
He enters and they embrace like old friends would. The embrace changes to something more. She pushes him away. He recites a charm at the floor and they sit. He just stares at her for a moment.
"So it's true," Regulus says. It is not a question, not a resignation, merely a statement of fact. She nods. A Gryffindor. A mudblood. Anyone else and he would be furious. But this is Andromeda. Getting angry at her never did solve anything. He merely does what he has trained himself to do, breathes in deeply, forces his brain beyond it, tries to find a way out.
"I'm leaving, Reggie," Andromeda tells him, the slightest hint of wavering in her voice. He catches it. "I don't want to live this life anymore. I want to be with Ted. He really loves me, and we're moving in together after graduation." She seems very silly and small in this moment. Even his name feels inadequate, pure and plain, not full of hidden meanings like Regulus's and hers. He catches the hesitation in her voice and pounces.
"You don't mean that, Andi," he says, his voice just barely pleading. "You belong here."
She puts her hand on his face, shaking her head. "No. This isn't my world anymore."
"You're just doing it because he left," he says, his voice nearly brushing rage. He has always secretly thought that she preferred his former brother- the blood traitor. She sighs. "Not this again, Regulus." She couldn't begin to count the number of times they'd covered this same ground. She cannot let herself be torn between her two cousins again. Sirius drags her in with his ideas; Regulus drags her in with his unlikely love. Andromeda has half a mind to let him believe it this time. It would make her task easier.
He kisses her, and she forgets to fight.
"I want to marry you, Andromeda," he says, and she can almost believe it for a moment. Their marriage would be ideal- the pureblood lines are becoming muddied and dying out; she knows this full well. She would never want for anything. She can almost feel herself being taken in.
But then she remembers. Thinks about the heads of house elves on the walls, thinks about the Mark on her sister's skin, thinks about Sirius's father, her flesh and blood, using Crucio against his own son. She remembers why she is leaving.
"No," she says, shaking her head. "I can't, Reggie. How could I live like this? Fancy parties of people who hate each other, living in a house that's like a museum, I can't take it. I have to go. For my own sake." Absently, her hand finds his forearm. He flinches, recoils from her touch. She goes white. It is as if she's just been run through.
"No," she says in a hoarse whisper. "You can't have-" But he silently lifts the sleeve of his robe, showing the skull seared into his flesh. He is almost ashamed of it.
She screams at him until her voice goes, pounding on his chest as he holds her back. She finds herself lying in his arms, crying and holding him as if her entire life depended upon it.
"Why?" she asks him simply through the dregs of her tears. He takes a deep breath.
"Because it's right," he tells her, trying to convince himself that he's not lying. "Because our way of life is threatened by interference. Because if I don't, then I'm to blame if our family name dies in obscurity. Because I have to."
She looks at him with eyes so clear that it pains him just now to see them. It's as if she's looking into his soul.
"You don't mean any of that, Reggie," she tells him. And of course, he doesn't. He can't. Just when he was starting to believe.
They say nothing more for a long time. They sit that way as the sun sets and a light rain sets in. He puts his cloak around her when she gets cold. They know it is the end, if only for them, though it feels like the end of the world.
No one ever goes into the cemetery in the very back of the estate, though there is a fresh grave clearly visible. No one, that is, except the young man sleeping soundly in the ground and the young woman who stands over him, her eyes dry.
She will never know if it was her voice in his head that made him flinch at just the wrong moment, if it was her urging that made him disobey a command, if it were her words that made him stand up to Him. Andromeda doesn't care to know just what it was that made the Dark Lord dispose of him. She lost him a long time before.
Sometimes when the wind is right she can hear him call her. He can hear him tell her that everything is right and that she is back where she belongs. It takes all that she has in her to walk away, to turn her back on him, to go back home. She turns, regards him one last time. She can almost see him there. But she won't be dragged back in this time. This time it is too late.
She disappears.