WRITTEN FOR QLFC SEASON 9, ROUND 2

TEAM: Holyhead Harpies, Chaser 2

PROMPT: Disney songs – Let It Go (Frozen)

2. (word) solidarity

4. (weather) sleet

9. (object) umbrella

WORD COUNT: 2858

Title source: Singin' in the Rain by Arthur Freed and Nacio Herb Brown


Laughing at Clouds


Andromeda Black took a moment from her frenetic scrambling to pause and glance out of her bedroom window. The streets, houses, and trees were blanketed in a thin layer of downy white snow; the late afternoon sun glimmered as it reflected off the light flurry of flakes swirling gently through the air. Such moments of beauty were meant to be beheld and appreciated.

Ever since she was very young, Andromeda had always had a convoluted perspective on snow. She wasn't so sure that she liked it. Still, she could appreciate it from afar, and she could most definitely relate to it. It was bright, beautiful, and perfect, yet so very cold when one got close enough to touch it. Just like she was, and how she'd always been. Like she'd always had to be.

What she did know for certain was that she hated being able to relate to it to such a degree, because as pretty as it was, snow was still essentially just little bits of ice, and ice was nothing if not rigid. Thus, she couldn't help but hold a mild resentment toward the snow, for it tended to serve as a harsh reminder of the oppressive inflexibility and poisonous complacence that pervaded throughout her own life.

But now, Andromeda was done being snow; she was done being cold, done being rigid, and above all, she was done being perfect. Especially if 'perfect' meant what the rest of her family wanted it to.


She found herself in a strange state of existence. She still felt like snow, but it was a little different now. She wanted to be like rain, bold and fluid, but found herself feeling more like something in between, along the lines of sleet. It wasn't as peaceful as rain – the oxymoronic deafening silence that accompanied the tears of the heavens. It certainly didn't hold a candle to the delicate beauty of snow, made up of so many graceful flakes flying freely through the air. Sleet was just… gross. Too wet and too dry, too liquid and too solid. It was littered with painful pellets of ice, and it got everywhere. The sloshy substance stained the streets with scattered patches that looked almost like brown rashes upon the Earth when it mixed with the dirt and garbage.

Though, as gross as it was, it was necessary. For Andromeda, at least. Meteorologically, she wasn't so sure; it wasn't like pure-bloods were taught how the weather worked. But for her, the sleet was her transition period. The chaotic stretch of time that she had to trudge through the mess of her life and brave the pellets of ice that represented the obstacles placed by society and by her family, and that pelted her as she fought her way to freedom.


Everyone had a breaking point. Very few Blacks ever reached theirs, but that was due to the fact that the limit of sanity tended to be far less than the restraint of morals and character. It was difficult to become fed up with your way of living when you were too busy being a homicidal megalomaniac, as her family were so wont to do.

Andromeda had never had a problem with the Black Madness. She theorized that forming anchors through her friends had helped to keep her head on straight and her morals righteous. Righteous for a Black, at least.

She couldn't speak for her ancestors, but her generation seemed to fit the pattern. Where Andromeda had friends, her sisters had tentative allies and tepid acquaintances, and she was obviously far more sane than animal-torturing Bellatrix and sociopath-mastermind Narcissa. Siri was quite sane too – a rather fun boy, in Andromeda's largely unshared opinion – and he was deeply entrenched with his little posse at Hogwarts. Even young Reggie, though not as social as Sirius, had a few friends, and coincidentally wasn't quite as Black-like as Walburga probably would've liked.

Andromeda wouldn't be the first Black to walk the path she was venturing. Well, she might've been; she couldn't be sure, seeing as how any records of the existences of previous 'blood traitors' would've been thoroughly expunged. But, she was comforted in the knowledge that she was doing the right thing, both for herself and from a greater, philosophical standpoint.

And so, Andromeda stared out her window, feeling frozen and yearning to thaw. Her moment of silent appreciation felt almost like a final goodbye, a conclusive departure from the frigid landscape she's called her life for so long.

It just wasn't until quite recently that she'd finally found the courage to break free.


"And what might you be up to, sister dear?"

Andromeda flinched and whirled around to meet the eloquently raised eyebrow of her raven-haired elder sister.

"Bella," she greeted coldly, turning back around to continue shoving clothes and other miscellaneous belongings into her open trunk.

"Andi, Andi, Andi." Andromeda could hear her sister's footsteps as Bella sauntered up behind her. "You didn't answer my question," she sang reproachfully, resting her chin on Andromeda's shoulder and exhaling a hot, moist breath onto Andromeda's cheek through her slightly parted lips.

"I merely presumed it superfluous to state the obvious," Andromeda retorted drily, desperately attempting to hide how much Bella's invasion of her personal space unsettled her. "I'm packing."

She could almost feel the eye roll in Bella's annoyed huff as she backed away. Almost gratefully, Andromeda found that she could breathe again, and watched out of the corner of her eye as Bella sprawled lazily across the bed, stretching languidly as she twirled her crooked wand through her thick, black hair.

"My, hypocritical, aren't we, Andromeda?" Bellatrix drawled, an accusatory glint taking hold in her dark eyes. "I'm sure it was obvious that my question wasn't quite so… superficial."

Andromeda slowed, turning to stare impassively at her sister's face.

"You know," Bellatrix said, feigning a casual tone, once it became clear that she wasn't going to respond, "There have been some rumors about you floating around, Andromeda dear."

Andromeda sneered at her. "You know what they say about rumors, Bella. Spread by fools and accepted by idiots."

Bellatrix seemed unphased by the insult. "Be that as it may, when the rumors have you cavorting with mudbloods, it tends to be a concern not only to myself, but to the entire family."

Andromeda tensed. "I don't know what you're talking about," she spoke evenly, only to cringe internally, realizing that the cliché response was as good as a direct admission of guilt.

Bellatrix's eyes narrowed further and she looked around Andromeda's scattered belongings. "You have been, haven't you? And now you're running off to go whore yourself around for them."

"I'm no whore, Bella," Andromeda bit back. "And there's a difference between running and leaving. I've chosen the latter because our way of life is wrong, and it won't be long before it all comes falling apart."

Bellatrix sneered. "That's why you're so eager to dirty yourself? To betray your blood? Because suddenly the way we've done things for countless generations is 'wrong?'"

Andromeda paused, considering the risks and benefits of attempting to convince Bellatrix that she was doing the right thing. Perhaps her sister would understand. The risks were enormous, but… Bella was still her family. "There's more. I've… fallen in love. With a Muggle-born."

The derisive snort that came in reply caused her to tense, and immediately terminated any hopes of sisterly understanding. "Love. Right. Animals don't understand love, Andromeda, and you're deluded if you think otherwise."

"Well, maybe that's why this family is so frigid," Andromeda retorted.

Bellatrix scoffed. "I can't believe this. You're actually going through with this."

Andromeda didn't respond beyond shutting her trunk, shrinking and pocketing it, and moving towards the door, only to have Bellatrix leap off the bed to intercept her.

"You can't leave us, Andi. We're your family!" Bella hissed, raising her wand. "I won't let you do this."

Andromeda's own wand was out in a flash, pointed back toward her sister.

"You won't have a choice."

A silent Banishing Charm threw Bellatrix through the open doorway, which Andromeda quickly followed her through. Bellatrix deftly rolled to her feet, sending back a Cutting Curse from her kneeling position, and leaping to her feet as Andromeda ducked out of the way.

As they traded spells, Andromeda was relieved to find that they were fairly evenly matched. Bella was a better duelist, being a couple years older and far more advanced in the Dark Arts, but she was heavily handicapped by her desire not to damage the Black ancestral home. Andromeda had no such qualms, and liberally tossed around a variety of more destructive curses.

Eventually, they fought their way through the house, down two flights of stairs, until they reached the landing of the ground floor, just down the hall from the front doors.

Bellatrix's face was a mask of intense concentration; her hair was wild, her forehead was dripping with sweat, and a vein on her temple was throbbing slightly. Andromeda, meanwhile, was having the time of her life. After a lifetime of suppressing and her emotions and curbing her actions, the feeling of finally cutting loose was euphoric. She giggled joyously as one of her Exploding Curses shattered an antique vase and ate at the frame of one of her ancestors' portraits.

She found a strange sense of peace in the chaos surrounding her, accompanied by no small measure of satisfaction. No longer was she confused about who she was, what she wanted, or where her life was headed. She was finally fighting back, and her newfound conviction felt like a resolute umbrella standing against the ice in her sleet storm life.

Ringing in her ears were old lectures of family and honor and old rants of mudbloods and barbarism, but this time, it felt more like they were departing from her mind than simply replaying themselves again. No more did they plague her consciousness, and no more did Andromeda hold onto them for the sole reason that they came from family. Family who were wrong and would never support her. With this realization came a feeling of invincibility, for she knew now that her family's ice would never again affect her.

"Crucio!"

Andromeda's focus was torn back to the fight as the angry red light shot past her, scant inches from her face. The use of the Unforgivable validated her concerns about Bellatrix. If the family eventually decided to hunt her and Ted down, they would be sending Bella to do it.

The older generation, for all their posturing, were rather frail when it came to combat, and Narcissa was never a fighter. Sirius probably wouldn't care that she was running away with a Muggle-born, and Regulus was simply too young. That left only Bella, who would make for a formidable and cruel opponent.

The Cruciatus Curse wasn't a rarity in the Black household, and neither was it uncommon within Bellatrix's spell repertoire, yet her use of it now was a clear declaration of intent. It was meant as a warning to Andromeda that Bellatrix would be willing to force her to stay under the threat of unimaginable pain.

Unfortunately for her, Andromeda was willing to do far more.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Bellatrix flinched violently and dove to the ground, not knowing that she was already out of the way of the trajectory of what was meant to be a warning shot. She rose to her feet, but did not immediately retaliate, instead staring disbelievingly at the result of what she believed to be her younger sister's first use of an Unforgivable Curse. As the sickly green residue faded from the burnt patch on the wall, Bellatrix slowly turned back to her sister to be met with a flinty glare.

"This is your only warning, Bella," Andromeda growled harshly. "And it is being afforded to you solely because we were once family." Neither sister could fully suppress a slight flinch at the finality of the statement, but Andromeda quickly hardened her resolve. "If you come after me and mine, I will not hesitate to put that curse through your chest. Can you honestly say the same for yourself?"

Smug satisfaction filled her being as she saw Bellatrix's expression falter. As horrible a person as Bella was, she'd always been a protective, if aloof, older sister. At least if you fell in with the 'correct' mindset. Looking at her hesitation now, Andromeda knew that Bellatrix was doubting her ability to kill her if it truly came down to it.

"Fine," Bellatrix snarled, lowering her wand slightly. Try as she might, Bellatrix could not hide the hurt from shining through the anger on her face. "Leave, then," she spat. "And don't come crawling home begging when your life goes to shit."

"I wasn't planning on it," Andromeda countered gleefully. "Now that I'm finally free from you insane, backward cretins, I'm never coming back!"

She laughed heartily as she pushed the door open and stepped out into the snow.


Andromeda shook her head a little to recover, idly noticing that the snow in this part of England was more icy and sloshy than where she'd Disapparated from.

Sleet, she thought disgustedly. How regrettably fitting.

As Andromeda walked along the cobbled path, a familiar house appeared before her, causing a warm feeling to bubble in her chest. Suddenly, the sleet – both literal and metaphorical – ceased bothering her entirely.

She'd only been here twice before, but it already felt more like home to her than the Black Manor ever had. Not because of the house itself, but rather who resided inside. The one who all this fanfare was for in the first place. The one who gave her the courage to escape the snow. The one who inspired in her the confidence that she could brave the rain.

Whether it was wild and unpredictable, loud and oppressive, or quiet and peaceful, Andromeda felt like she could weather anything as long as she had Ted Tonks by her side.

As if summoned by her thoughts, the front door of the cottage swung open to reveal the man himself, his eyes wide with shock.

"Andromeda?"

She grinned weakly at him, her insides jumping around in joy. "Hey, Ted."

"What are you–" Ted cut himself off abruptly, gaping like a fish out of water. "Oh my God, did you–"

Andromeda nodded tentatively, giving him a shy smile. "Surprise."

A myriad of emotions flickered across Ted's face. Hope and elation primarily, yet there was a concerning undercurrent of cautious worry.

"Ted?" Andromeda asked, a pit of dread forming in her stomach. "What is it?"

Ted shook his head. "Dromeda, don't get me wrong; I'm thrilled that you're here," He paused to consider his words. "But are you sure about this? I know you didn't like them much, but they were still your family. Am I really worth throwing all that away?"

Andromeda stared at him for several moments before exhaling shakily. "Well it's too late to do anything about it now."

She knew it was an insensitive answer, but Ted had unwittingly touched on her own deeply buried doubts. Thankfully, he knew her well enough to see through her poor attempt at humor and pulled her into his arms.

Andromeda sighed and leaned into his embrace. "Sorry. I'm just a bit stressed. My whole life changed today."

Ted's arms tightened around her. "I'm here for you, Dromeda. You know I'll stay with you through everything, right?"

She had indeed already known, but hearing those words still gave her heart. It was a different sort of feeling from the invincibility she'd felt when fighting Bellatrix, but in a rainy world as someone who'd only ever known snow, the umbrella of reassurance and solidarity was just as comforting.

"We'll explore this new, crazy world together," he continued, as if reading her mind. "Side by side, through anything."

Andromeda peeked up at him and smiled. "Free like the rain."

Ted's face scrunched up. "That's a really weird metaphor to use for freedom, but okay."

Andromeda smiled against his chest. "You're a good man, Theodore Tonks. I will never regret my decision in the slightest. I would throw away my family a thousand times just to spend a day in your arms."

"How romantic," Ted quipped drily.

Andromeda giggled and pulled away. "Hey!" she exclaimed, twirling around in delight. "It finally stopped sleeting!"

He followed his gaze and snorted in amusement. "As if raining cats and dogs is any better."

"And you say I have weird metaphors," Andromeda laughed.

Ted shook his head and chuckled, tugging at her arm to pull her inside. "Come on, get inside. You're going to get soaked. More than you already are, that is," he corrected upon glancing down at her drenched clothes.

Andromeda just pulled back, dragging him through the door frame. "Dance with me, Ted."

Ted looked at her dubiously, glanced up at the sky, then back to her. "Now? In the rain?"

"I'm not afraid of a little rain, as long as I'm with you, Ted." Andromeda replied happily. "You'll always be my umbrella."