Apr 5, 2006

A/N:

I suddenly realized I'd forgotten all about Andromeda Black. Granted, her name only shows up like twice in the entire series, and she never really did anything important, but I thought I'd give it a go anyway. Her character was harder to develop…how'd I do?

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Breaking the Mold

Andromeda Tonks, Andromeda Tonks, Andromeda Tonks…

It wasn't easy, being rebellious. It wasn't easy looking your mother, your father, your entire world straight in the eye and saying "Sorry Mum, Sorry Dad…I'm going a different way." For Sirius it had been, but then again, everything always came easy to Sirius.

The Blacks never had family reunions like dirty, common people, but they kept in touch, and it was during one of these Dinners—they liked to call them—that Andromeda had met her cousin, really met him for the first time.

From the very beginning, Andromeda had been sure there was something different about her, and it had caused her no end of anguish. She'd seen her older sister Bellatrix descend into the darkness as was "awfully honorable of her", and she'd been on the receiving end of one of her younger sister Narcissa's piercing stares one too many times for comfort.

Andromeda had often wondered why she couldn't be what was expected of her as a Black. No matter how she tried, she never could understand what was it that made fitting in so hard. She had the blood, she had the features, she had everything that she needed…and yet something was still missing. Sometimes she gazed at herself in the mirror, wondering what was wrong with her; sometimes she even wondered if she wasn't a Black after all. She tried so hard, so unbelievably hard, but she couldn't, she couldn't, she couldn't. How she longed to be proud and defiant like Narcissa or at least cold and shadowy like Bellatrix, but she couldn't and because of that she sorrowed.

She had been fourteen that year, the year everything changed, and Sirius had been eleven, and she recalled with fondness his easy step, his crooked debonair smile. She had adored the way he tossed his head back to laugh—though never in his mother's presence—and the way his dark eyes actually showed a degree of warmth that was unheard of for a Black.

When she had seen Sirius, Andromeda had realized that she should embrace her difference and cast of the cloak of conformity. She had decided right then and there, that she did not want to be a Black any longer. She wanted to be human; she wanted to laugh, to love, to be able to jump up and down in excitement when she was happy. And she'd had enough.

But it wasn't as simple as a flick of the wand, a muttering of a spell. Andromeda had had to work at it. Many times she'd felt the tug of her ancestry on her soul, but she'd resisted each time, with varying degrees of success. Each time she felt herself about to be pulled into what she liked to call "the far end" she had only to look to Sirius to remind herself where she truly wanted to be.

Ted had had a lot to do with that, as well. She'd met him during the summer of her sixth year, and she'd been swept head over heels into love with his charm, his good humor, and the fact that he hadn't been tainted by the darkness that was looming over the wizarding world. By that time, Andromeda had been exposed to the depravity of their spectrum, witnessed the evil and corruption that plagued them, and she had sworn that she would one day escape from it all. She didn't want to have to live like that, and if she'd have to give up her skills at magic, it was a sacrifice she would have gladly made.

Escape, freedom. It was what she desired, and it was the Blacks' notorious determination—the only benefit, it seemed, of being Andromeda Black—that caused her to believe she could do anything she wanted, if only she tried.

Narcissa, she remembered, had raged and threatened. She had cursed, tossed her head, and employed all her skills of persuasion to try to win Andromeda back. But Bellatrix…Bellatrix was just the opposite. When Andromeda began to show the first signs of conversion, Bellatrix had just smiled, a cold, calculating smile, almost as if it were no news to her. And Andromeda has strayed far from her, fearing that some of her darkness would seep into her own soul, and she couldn't afford for that, not after everything.

Her wedding day was the single most disastrous and beautiful day of her life. Ted in a simple clean cut black dressing gown (he was looking a little out of place as a Muggle but was trying his hardest), herself donning robes of a deep amethyst, ready to say their vows, when the ceremony was disturbed by her mother, her father, and Narcissa, come to humiliate and bring her away.

There, in front of her friends and loved ones, Mother and Father had almost destroyed their union, and Andromeda had steeled her resolve, summoned up her courage, and outlasted their temper. When they had disapparated, Narcissa was left, and she tried a different approach.

"Ann," she said in her cold clear voice, "Don't do this Ann. Mother and Father love you. I love you. This man, this…Muggle"—she indicated Ted with a toss of her head—"he knows nothing of our world, how can he be the one for you? Leave him now and I'll help you to win back Father's favor. We'll find you a respectable groom, and no one will ever have to mention this incident."

"I'm sorry Narcissa, little sister," Andromeda had replied, "I can't be like you. I can't live like you do. I need love, Narcissa, I need happiness. Without it I am nothing."

And she had reached out and embraced her sister. The second before Narcissa pushed her away, Andromeda had been sure she'd felt her hug back, if only for a fleeting moment. When they were face to face again, Narcissa's mask of haughtiness was back in place, but if Andromeda looked closely enough, she was sure her sister's eyes looked softer and brighter than their usual iciness.

Narcissa had tossed her blond head with ease. "So be it," she said without a hint of sorrow, "If that's the path you take, then I renounce you. You are no longer my sister, Andromeda."

And she had disappeared. But Andromeda hadn't minded, because in that moment after their embrace, she had managed to wrench a tiny silver of emotion from her sister's mask of dignity, and to her that meant the world.

And so the wedding had commenced. The moment she felt Ted's warm hands grasp her own, she felt like weeping in joy; she was no longer a Black. Andromeda Tonks! How wonderful the name sounded. Her and Ted's wedding culminated in a series of breathtaking vows, and afterward she was sure she had made a great achievement.

When her daughter Nymphadora was born to her, Andromeda took care to not raise her the way she had been raised. She showed her little Metamorphmagus love and compassion, and taught her not to despise her heritage, to accept but not embrace it.

Of course, by that time Narcissa had completely disowned her, declared that she would have nothing to do with her, and Bellatrix was still Bellatrix. Sometimes she regretted this isolation; sometimes she wished she could go to her sisters when she was feeling lonely or in need of someone to listen, but she had always known that wasn't possible, and she had grown more or less accustomed to it.

When Sirius died Andromeda had felt that her world was coming apart. He had been her hope, her inspiration, and she had loved him as she would a brother. As the second most important man in her life, Sirius had helped to make her who she was. And now that she was for the most part successful, he had…died?

And Bellatrix had killed him. If it had been in her nature, Andromeda would have set the world aflame to avenge her cousin. Instead she descended into sorrow, tearing at her hair and weeping with her entire being.

So she burrowed even further into the world she had created for herself, the world that evil couldn't blemish, that magic couldn't touch. She cooked the Muggle way, without a wand, she grew herbs without the aid of magical serums, and she was happy. Sometimes she would pull out her old wand and gaze at it lovingly, remembering who she once was and the friends she had made in that beautiful turreted castle upon a lake. Sometimes she felt herself wishing she could return there, a blossoming witch surrounded by her fellows, but she had a new life now, and she was happy.

Whenever she was alone she would grab a pen, and, like a foolish schoolgirl, write her name over and over again—in block letters, calligraphy, hearts and flowers, anything and everything.

Andromeda Tonks. Andromeda Tonks. Andromeda Tonks.

She was released, free. And she wasn't going back. Not for anything.

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A/N:

I realize I'm not pulling in many reviews with this series (and I can understand why), but that doesn't bother me as much as I would have expected it to. More than anything, these one shots are for my own pleasure; they're gratifying and I love to do them.

Bellatrix will be the last installment (unless I decide to do Sirius, which probably wont happen), and I'm looking forward to writing her, although I'm still not quite sure how I'll do it.