Disclaimer: I don't own them.
The next tempest in the domestic teapot of Mordred Black's home surprisingly did not involve Bellatrix in the center of it.
It was Andromeda's first letter home in her sixth year that had caused the chaos.
The middle daughter wrote that she was doing fine in her classes, and thanked her parents for the inquiries and the parcel of pleasure reading books and school supplies. The new Slytherin Prefects in the 5th year (Florence Springfield and Xavier Bulstrode) were fairly well-behaved, barring the small debacle of Florence being caught snogging Marius Nott behind one of the greenhouses by some Gryffindor girl or another. She'd had a few troubles grasping Trigomancy concepts in Arithmancy class at first, but after a tutoring session with the professor, that problem had been resolved. Oh, and she was going to try out for Seeker now that Dorian Higgs had left school and there was an opening on the team.
Mordred Black, scowling like a thundercloud, slammed down his fork with a clang, stopping his wife's reading of Andromeda's letter mid-sentence. His dark eyes were flashing furiously even as his face reddened. "AN INGRATE! THAT'S WHAT SHE IS!"
Aria Black, a tight expression on her pale face, stood up gracefully but carefully from her spot at the table and walked over to her husband, laying a delicate hand on his shoulder. "Dear, do calm down... you're frightening Bella."
That was a patent falsehood and everyone knew it. Mordred Black glared balefully at his wife. "Your DAUGHTER," he started coldly, "wants to tromp about like a common peasant, cavorting with boys on broomsticks! Does she not have any sense of propriety?!"
Aria sighed. "I'm sure that, even in the case that Andromeda really were to try out, she would behave properly as befits our family."
"HOW could she behave properly, Aria?" Mordred snarled. "Since when did girls from proper homes and families try out for Quidditch teams?!"
Bellatrix had remained silent since her father's outburst had put an abrupt end to the letter-reading, the porridge in her bowl getting cold as she silently mulled over the contents of her sister's missive. She had always been close to Andromeda, who had generally been more supportive of her own escapades than Narcissa. Going out for Seeker WAS rather improper, to be sure, but there was still something to be said about her sister's determination. Andromeda might amount to something if she didn't slouch into the mode of unremarkable middle sister, and the letter gave some hope...
"Since when did Blacks have to follow all those outdated trends, anyway?" she inquired quietly.
Her father and mother, who had been bickering about Andromeda's upbringing, both turned to stare at her. Bellatrix met her father's gaze coolly and squarely.
"WHAT did you just say, Bellatrix Black?"
Bellatrix raised her chin, making sure to keep her voice modulated and rational. "Andromeda wouldn't be so foolish, I don't think, to take this little fascination with Quidditch beyond a school game or two. And you did always say, father, that you firmly believed in people pursuing their talents and maximizing their potential."
"That does not include QUIDDITCH." Mordred Black snipped out. "It's simply not DONE."
Bellatrix seemed to think about this for a moment, before sighing languidly. Her voice was slightly doleful, much like Narcissa's might be when she found it difficult to get her own way. "Well. I suppose you know best, father." She glanced down at her plate. "Andromeda SHOULD be grooming herself to be more like, say, Maeve Travers. She seems to hold promise as a decorous debutante."
That hit a nerve, and Bellatrix knew it. Demetrius Travers and Mordred Black had been at odds for years due to business rivalry. Her father had a slight advantage currently, and Bellatrix had overheard him sneer derisively to his wife at the Avery/Wilkes engagement party that for all her frills and finery, Travers' chit would never amount to anything at all, since like her father she was born without a brain in her head.
"NO daughter of mine shall ever be like a Travers," Mordred narrowed his eyes. "Andromeda's made of finer mettle than THAT."
"I'd certainly hope so; she's a Black," Bellatrix sensed an impending victory and gave her father her sweetest smile, gratified to see the gleam of pride in his eyes.
Aria glanced from daughter to husband, and smiled as well. "Darling, let's let Andromeda have a little bit of her fun." Her husband's smile faded, but she pressed on. "If she's anything like you, she'd never use it to bring shame to her family."
The conversation topic was changed then, and though no one sent Andromeda any notes of acknowledgement in regards to this startling new pursuit, no one stopped Bellatrix, either, from sending Andromeda one of the better brooms in the family's collection.
Andromeda Black's first and last game as the Slytherin team's Seeker would be the only Slytherin victory that year. The only female on her team, she smiled almost sweetly at the Hufflepuffs as Amos Diggory and Aurelius Bole shook hands, and steadfastly ignored any catcalls from the audience. She took to the air on her Silver Arrow right behind Bole, and soon started to circle the pitch.
The game was a close one, as both Hufflepuff and Slytherin Chasers scored goal after goal, and their respective supporters alternately cheered and booed as the game progressed. The snitch was nowhere in sight, and both teams were already approaching one hundred points in score.
It was just after Slytherin Chaser Jonathan Caligo had scored (100:90, SLYTHERIN!) against Hufflepuff Keeper Bartemius Crouch that Andromeda caught sight of a flash of gold hovering in the air about ten feet from the ground and took a steep dive. Hufflepuff Seeker in hot pursuit, she zoomed across the pitch at a dizzying speed, eyes focused on the elusive spot of gold.
And just as she reached out and caught the ball in her palm, a Bludger from Diggory slammed into her from the right side. The crowd gasped collectively as the willowy girl was sent careening from the broom, a splash of brunette hair and green and silver robes against a blue sky.
Madame Hooch, the Quidditch referee, flew off towards the scene at top speed, but even before she could reach the falling girl, Andromeda's descent was halted by a pair of strong arms. As the audience watched, the Hufflepuff Seeker caught his counterpart securely around the waist, his own broom gripped between his thighs, and with one arm around Andromeda's waist for stability, Ted Tonks steered the broom with his other hand and lowered both of them safely to the ground.
The teachers swarmed upon them then, and a grim-faced Professor Montague, head of Slytherin House, conjured up a stretcher to take Andromeda to the hospital wing. For a split second, before she was led off, Andromeda's bright, pain-filled blue eyes locked with Tonks' concerned hazel ones, and she gave him a sweet smile.
It was Narcissa who wrote her parents this time, describing the game and its end in detail while Andromeda was being fussed over by the nurse for her broken arm. Not a week had passed before Mordred Black put his foot down and wrote a stern letter to Andromeda ordering her resignation from the Quidditch team. Her broom was confiscated when he visited Hogwarts, and the Slytherins were left scrambling to find a replacement. None of Aurelius Bole's earnest entreaties affected Mordred Black's final decision, and Slytherin was slaughtered by Ravenclaw a month later, as Ying-Ying Zhao caught the Snitch twenty minutes into the game with nary a struggle. Andromeda watched from the crowd, cheeks red with cold and disappointed fury, as the Ravenclaw Seeker brought the final score to 170:10, and Severus Snape, Slytherin's reserve Seeker, skulked off like a shadow.
It was that very evening when Bellatrix's owl for her sister arrived, bearing a light parcel. A glossy picture of a sylphlike witch in stylish robes graced the cover, and Andromeda listlessly flipped open the fashion magazine, only to stare in comprehension a moment later. Ensconced in her corner, the 6th year put her tribulations to rest as she devoured the cunningly disguised latest version of Quidditch Through The Ages, and it was nearing two o'clock in the morning when she was finally through with the book to pen an effusive letter of thanks to her sister, the other rebel.