Children are to be seen and not heard.
From almost the moment after her birth, Andromeda became accustomed to being poked and prodded. She was passed back and forth constantly, a house elf tending to her every sound. Although she did not create the desired outcome of her parents' second try for an heir, care was immediately put in place to raise Andromeda the proper way. The Blacks were not particularly hands-on parents. Between an older sister and a case of colic, however, it was assured that Andromeda would hardly ever be alone. When she whimpered in the middle of the night, someone answered right away, even if it was rarely her mother.
Though she was too young to understand, a fundamental shift in the Black household occurred little more than a year later. A shriek from her mother was the only signal of the change. In a swirl of Andromeda's crying and noise, she and Bellatrix were swept away to their aunt and uncle's house for the day. News of another sibling came to the girls, along with their parents' disappointment of another birth without an heir to show for it. Andromeda was hardly more than a baby herself when she was replaced as the youngest member of the family.
Narcissa added another sister to their lot. Although they were not separated much in age, Andromeda viewed Narcissa as her baby sister as soon as she was old enough to understand. The girls spent most of their time together, so she was easily attuned with the meanings of every sound that Narcissa made. Some of Andromeda's earliest memories included playing with her sister's hands and coming up with games that could make Narcissa giggle.
Even as an infant and toddler, Andromeda was dressed to look her part. With a neat bow in her dark hair and pressed clothes, Andromeda's picture went up next to her sisters' on the walls of their home. The Blacks had a powerful and well-known name to uphold, and no number of daughters - or lack of sons - would stop them from looking confident and at ease. Materially, she was well cared for, always having finely-made clothing and the exacting adjustments of her mother. While other children ran and yelled, Andromeda sat quietly.
Bellatrix was clearly in charge of the play room. She was the oldest, so perhaps it was only fitting. Narcissa, from the time her nose and cheeks lost their round baby shape, was exquisite. Like a porcelain doll, she was perfectly designed to pout and get whatever she requested. Andromeda sat between them, usually happy to play their chosen games or stick close to her sisters for company. She wasn't lonely and liked having two people who understood her completely, usually without having to say a word out loud.
Raising children is the duty and work of women.
With the arrival of Sirius a few years later, the sisters were no longer the main focus of the Black family. Their father's forehead puckered at the news, but Andromeda was too fascinated by the tiny fists and shock of dark hair in the bassinet to pay him much mind. Adults would say that Walburga and Orion won that round, but Andromeda only had eyes for the bundle who created all of the conversation. A party was held in his honor where Andromeda was only pulled away from the baby with the coaxing of her father to try a bite of the cake.
She showed an immediate fascination with learning to copy all of the things Kreacher did. Tenderly, she would hold Sirius' head in the crook of her elbow and make sure his neck didn't fall back. She quickly discovered the words that soothed him and the best spot to tickle under his chin to create a high, carrying laugh. He was a doll come to life. Whenever she was at her aunt and uncle's house, Andromeda found new excuses to stay near the baby.
A short while later, another cousin, Regulus, joined the group of young Black family children. Andromeda needed little prompting to request visits, since she loved counting little baby fingers and squealing at their new discoveries. If her mother looked down her nose at Andromeda crawling on the floor to entertain her cousins, she waved it away with reasoning that it was good for a little pureblood girl to want children. Once she was older, she could learn the proper way to present herself outside of the family.
As they grew older, Andromeda stayed fascinated. She let Narcissa follow her like a shadow, practiced reading with Regulus sitting beside her, and learned the best ways to sneak sweets from the kitchen to give Sirius an extra dessert. Bellatrix was bold, but Andromeda was usually at her heels. She tended to small wounds and almost always caved to the whims and delights of her younger sister and cousins.
Family was what she knew. This, despite the subtle jabs between the adults and frequent reminders of purity, was her example of love. They were the only people who spent significant time with her. The only ones who made her feel connected to something outside herself. Mother could be cold, and Aunt Walburga was prone to yelling, but she considered those things their personal signs of affection. Like Bellatrix, their love didn't come in a soft package or wrapped in ribbon. If they didn't care about her, they wouldn't care so much about how she acted.
Remove your hat while indoors.
Hogwarts was a certainty since she heard the name. Everyone in their family went there, and everyone was in Slytherin. Anything else wasn't worth consideration. When the time came, Bellatrix left, taking her place at the emerald and silver table like those who went before them. She came home with stories and promises that no one would be able to stop them once the Black sisters took the school together. Andromeda enviously let the silk of Bellatrix's school tie slide between her fingers and even tried it on in front of the mirror over the Christmas holiday.
As much as she longed to be at school with other children like her, Andromeda knew pieces of her heart would stay behind. She was used to her mother's remarks about her collar being crooked and the way her father glanced at her over the morning paper. Her little sister and cousins were too young to attend. Her room, comforting and familiar since she knew every inch, would be replaced by a shared dormitory. Hogwarts was her destiny, but it still conjured nightmares of everyone turning away from her and telling her she didn't belong.
The train engine took her away from London, though she tried to stay close to Bellatrix. Her knees didn't shake so much when Bellatrix's haughty stare told everyone that Andromeda was important. They were separated once they got to the station in Hogsmeade, but Andromeda could quickly find her sister's gaze at the proper table before she took the few steps up to the stool in front of the entire hall.
She was a Black. She shouldn't have anything to fear.
The seconds under the Sorting Hat were long and lonely. It mumbled in her ear with words about the virtues of wit and learning, bravery and courage, loyalty and hard work. It told her all the things it saw in her head, but she ignored them all. She thought of the name of the proper house desperately, longing to be with the only people she knew. She couldn't stand the idea of being alone at Hogwarts and wanted to cling to the familiar. Slytherin was where she belonged, where every Black belonged, and Andromeda had always been a Black.
Finally, the Sorting Hat split at the brim and a house name echoed through the Great Hall. Andromeda let out a great breath of relief and practically skipped to the table, remembering part way there that a well-behaved girl walked with her back straight. She paused, fixed her gaze on the table, walked with the grace her mother instilled in her, and found her spot with the rest of the Slytherins.
Magic is might.
There was no alternative to doing well in school. In subjects where Andromeda could keep to herself and study hard, she found success. Potions, History of Magic, and Astronomy were more a matter of studying and memorizing than theory. As she made her way through school and classes, Arithmany and Ancient Runes also presented more options for her attention to detail and solitary habits. If given enough time and the right amount of preparation, she could master the answers needed for good marks.
Nerves, more than anything else, made her worry about classes like Transfiguration. One small error could have giant consequences. Embarrassment in front of the entire class. Whispers about the failure of a Black daughter. Angry letters from her parents if she turned out to be a disappointment. Bellatrix's sharp whispers in her ear and nudges to make her stand tall told her that she was better than everyone else there.
She had to prove it. Anything less than perfection was unacceptable. She was a Black.
Practicing spells and charms in the quiet of her empty dormitory became one of her most common ways to pass time. If the other girls had a reason to be out of the dorm, she could hide away for a few hours. Without the eyes of her classmates, she could stumble over mistakes and try to repair them before anyone else would see. Andromeda made an effort to read ahead, trying to ensure that whatever they needed to try in class was rehearsed before there was any kind of audience. The bags under her eyes for sleepless nights could be hidden. The inability to do something couldn't.
Toujours Pur.
Andromeda was on track to do exactly as her parents wished and predicted. Her O.W.L. scores arrived with enough positive marks for Mother and Father to be pleased. They let her sit near the head of the table for dinner and pick all of the courses, even inviting Walburga, Orion, Sirius, and Regulus over to show the success of their middle daughter. Her heart swelled happily in her chest at the proud look from her older sister and the way her parents took extra care to brag about her accomplishments.
Something of a shadow hung over the gathering, though, since Sirius stubbornly sat in the corner and refused to talk to anyone else. Andromeda tried to brush it aside. This was a happy day. She was with her family. They were all in the same place. The future hung in front of her, and she only had to grab it. Sirius would go to school soon, she would tell him all of the secrets she found, and their family would be together, as they belonged. All would be well.
Once back in the castle, Andromeda quickly found that things might not continue entirely as planned.
Sixth year sent an unexpected snag in the form of a sandy-haired Hufflepuff. When she and Ted Tonks were first assigned as partners in their advanced Potions class, she regarded him with a cool stare and turned back to the blackboard. With her back turned, she didn't see the way his easy-going smile fell. If he wasn't up to the standard set by her family, Andromeda told herself, she would get there alone. She didn't need to be weighed down by useless muggleborns.
Quickly and without her permission, however, Andromeda found her thoughts floating to Tonks. The way he smiled at her, even when she tried to be unaffected by his presence. How he gently pushed her wrist aside before she could add an ingredient too early during class. Study sessions with him didn't drag. In comfortable silence or quiet conversation, they could pass a whole evening without noticing the time slip by them. He listened to her talk about anything, even something boring like the meaning of some old Runes, without rolling his eyes or trying to change the subject to himself.
Blacks weren't friends with people who didn't have names etched in ancient family trees. He was nothing, Andromeda tried to tell herself. She could be a good partner and not embarrass herself without getting tangled in a mess of dirty blood and inferior houses. She owed him notes because he helped her during class, but that was all. Once the year was over, she could forget about Ted Tonks' crooked smile and the way her heart thumped strangely around him.
Due to the amount of time they spent together, she had to explain it away. If someone thought she was enjoying her time with Ted more than with her usual crowd, her parents would know before she had a chance to form an excuse. She had to prepare. She had to make sure everyone knew that her partnership was reluctant. It was the product of Slughorn's pairing rather than her desire to stay near him. It couldn't be anything else.
When her housemates laughed behind their hands about people who, in their minds, didn't belong at the school, Andromeda hurried to agree. What Black wouldn't repeat what they were told? What Black would stand up for muggleborn students?
The sudden disappearance of Ted's yellow tie from her life took its brightness with it.
She didn't know what caused it, but he didn't appear anymore at the table where she studied. Before, even when she tried to hide from the rest of the school, he managed to find her in the library and settle in next to her. Now, she hardly saw him around the castle. Their partner assignments switched to solo work. Something sharp hit her when Ted chose to sit on the other side of the classroom when given the chance to take the seat next to her.
She missed him, Andromeda realized. Her face flushed and eyes burned at the thought. She ran to a mirror, locking the door behind her and hoping no one would be able to see the damage. Not seeing him was painful in the same way it was to be apart from other people who meant so much to her. Those people would hate him, she knew, but sitting at the table with her housemates in the Great Hall felt more lonely with every passing day.
The clock ticked toward the time when she would have to return home. With her heart pounding, Andromeda was the one to find him in the library this time. She said her confession quickly. She couldn't let him interrupt or tell her to stop. For once, she didn't worry so much about getting it exactly right or embarrassing herself in front of someone else. If he was the Ted she knew, he would understand, even if her words weren't quite right. If what she felt was what she thought it might be, and if he felt the same, her stutters wouldn't make a difference.
She kissed him.
He kissed her back.
Remain pure and chaste until marriage.
When she got off the Hogwarts Express in London, Andromeda was sure her mother would read her secret in her face. Ted's kiss stuck with her, even when he was swept into his own parents' embrace. She had never been able to get away with anything, so how could this be any different? Her parents were always finding out what was happening, even when she didn't tell them. Her mother, she convinced herself, would notice Ted's fingerprints on her skin. She would see the way Andromeda paused before getting off the train to answer his smile before he disappeared in the crowd. Her mother would sense the way her heart beat quickly and find the folded slip of parchment in her pocket that held a precious address.
Throughout the summer months, Andromeda made up excuses to get out of the house. Her destination was always the post office, where she sent off thick envelopes with Ted's parents' address in solid writing. Owls were too dangerous, she cautioned, knowing that one couldn't enter her room without her parents wanting to know who was on the other end. She made frequent visits to the post office instead, nearly jumping in place while she waited for the clerk to tell her whether a new letter arrived. They were perfect presents, full of warmth and a frightening feeling that started in her stomach whenever she thought of Ted. He wasn't forgetting about her, and she relished in the feeling.
The thought of returning to school wasn't as painful as it had been in the past. She was returning to something rather than leaving it. Behind those walls, there were places she could go where her family couldn't reach. She had never really been alone in her life, and now she could have Ted by her side whenever she got the chance to separate from her housemates. Letters were wonderful, but they were nothing compared to the way Ted's eyes lit up when they saw her or how his hands held her. The familial bond that used to feel secure and safe was clasped around her neck, making her want to pluck at it like a too-tight collar.
Peace was short-lived when the Sorting Hat declared the placement of the first Gryffindor member of the House of Black. Sirius grinned as he headed to the table of scarlet and gold, but Andromeda felt her heart sink. Walburga's temper was infamous. She was certain that Sirius wouldn't be getting congratulatory notes in the mail. Her hands shook. She couldn't protect her cousin when he was several tables and a few houses away.
Andromeda sank into her reputation as the soft-spoken Black sister who preferred books and quiet to company. It was a built in excuse to find hours to spend with Ted. In the time that she used to study and perfect her spells, she kissed him and discovered what being wanted for herself felt like. She stumbled more in class, but she desperately hoped their study sessions would keep her afloat.
Focus, her parents reminded her, after getting the news that Andromeda wasn't performing at quite her usual level. It was normal to be nervous about the future, they told her, but she had to do her duty. She had to prove to the world what they already knew. Blacks were better. That meant they had to do better, to be better. Her parents would take care of her, Druella and Cygnus assured her, along with the news that she didn't need to fret. She would be taken care of once school was done too. Rodolphus Lestrange's parents agreed that a union shortly after her graduation would be in the best interests of everyone.
She couldn't tell Ted about the engagement. She couldn't tell anyone about the way it made her want to scream. For once, she had something that was hers and didn't belong to anyone else. For once, she could make her own decisions, and her parents were snatching it away. They didn't know what they were taking, but it didn't make the theft any easier. If nothing changed, if she remained as cowardly as she had always been, she would have a new last name and a husband who barely knew her before she got to make a decision for herself again.
Then, in a whispered spell that she found in the Restricted Section, Andromeda knew she had to do something. Her fingers wavered, but the result was unmistakable. It wasn't only her life that she was responsible for anymore. Truly, her life had never really been her own, but this was her choice. She could find a solution and make it go away. Or she could give herself away to a new kind of love that spread through her body. Unlike the charted course with Rodolphus endorsed by her parents, Andromeda knew in the space of a heartbeat that she was willing to give her life away to this.
A faithful daughter heeds the marital advice of her parents.
Andromeda never considered herself brave, but she learned how to fake it. When she worried about being sorted into Slytherin or impressing others, she could rely on the posture and standing ingrained in her since childhood. When she stressed about exams or essays, she could devote herself to studying and spending as much time as she could on getting things right. When her family made her worry, she could plaster on a smile and be their shining daughter.
When it came to the swoop of dread in her stomach about what Ted might say when she shared her news, she wasn't sure what she could do.
A future away from the wishes of her family was uncertain. Without their steady presence and assurance, what would she have? Without the history that tied her to generations of magic, she was nothing special. Alone, Andromeda was only a girl with a problem that would reveal itself in a few months.
Ted had to know something wasn't quite right when she ducked away from his kiss and squeezed his hand tightly. She hid her face when he asked what was wrong. In response, she whispered a question, asking if he loved her. It gave voice to the unknown feeling that stirred in her chest whenever he was near or she thought about him. He assured her that he did, that she was never nothing to him. It didn't stop her from crying, though, when she moved his hand to her stomach and confessed the secret hidden under her robes.
Not saying goodbye to her family would be painful, but she had more than herself to think about now. Stepping into something she didn't know was uncertain. A life with Ted was terrifying and thrilling at the same time. Leaving school was an accomplishment, but it faded in the distance quickly. She didn't have time to dwell. Instead, she found a lace veil in a secondhand shop and didn't let her eyes stray from Ted's while they made their vows.
A proper pureblood woman is a devoted wife and mother.
With Ted working and her body struggling with the symptoms of her pregnancy, it was easy for Andromeda to fall into periods of melancholy. They found a small flat of their own. With the two of them, it could be crowded, but it could also be lonely. Problems that never were part of her concerns - paying rent, finding ways to make dinner on a shrinking budget, decorating a nursery, booking appointments to make sure the baby was growing - piled until they were nearly overwhelming.
She put herself to work quickly, not giving herself time to dwell. With the help of her new mother-in-law, Andromeda learned to do things the muggle way and take care of the daily operations of a home. She perfected household spells and learned how to make things easier. When she felt particularly lost, Mrs. Tonks would offer her a cup of tea and let her know that trying her best was what counted the most. She took on small jobs and tasks like mending clothes or runes translation when Ted's wages didn't quite cover their monthly expenses. She knitted things for the baby and counted down weeks on the kitchen calendar.
From the moment she heard her first cry, Andromeda knew that Nymphadora was worth every hard thing in her life. Labor was painful but quickly forgotten when her daughter was placed on her chest. She couldn't take her eyes off her. Memories of making Sirius, Regulus, and Narcissa laugh tickled the corners of her mind. Unlike those times, though, Andromeda didn't have to leave her side for anything. She smoothed the few strands of hair on her baby's head and gasped when Nymphadora's eyes shifted in color to match her own.
Nymphadora brought out a noticeable change in her demeanor. While pregnancy made her tired and likely to retreat into quiet, her little girl gave her a reason to walk around the house with her in her arms. She would sing little melodies she caught on the wireless, even if she didn't remember all of the words. She would dress her in new clothes, put her picture everywhere in the flat, and swear to her that Nymphadora would never feel like she couldn't measure up to what her mother wanted. They would be a family that accepted her, no matter what.
Rotten branches must be plucked for the health of the tree.
If her hasty marriage wasn't enough to separate her from her family, Andromeda knew that Nymphadora's birth would do just that. When she had a child to think about, she couldn't entertain the fantasy that one day they would answer a letter kindly or love her again. She had to keep her daughter and husband safe, especially as a dark wizard continued his rise. Andromeda avoided the papers, hoping that not seeing a family member's name would mean that they weren't involved.
It was especially painful to be apart from Narcissa and Regulus. She loved both of them with a protective instinct that made her want to save them, but her love for Nymphadora won. Neither would be convinced away from the messages their family repeated since birth. As much as she tried to ignore the realities that seemed determined to crush against their windows, her ears always caught sounds that were similar to the names of people she couldn't speak to again.
Leaving the family was difficult, but she was not alone. Only a few years after Nymphadora's birth, an unexpected knock came at their door. In between warnings about running in the house, Andromeda opened the door to her cousin, who had recently escaped from the horror of his parents' home. She tried to do what she could by offering a warm meal and shelter. Sirius was staying with the Potters, he told her, a family who quickly took him in like he was their own. Andromeda put another serving of chicken onto his plate, just in case. She gave him a few old sweaters from Ted's section of the closet and told him to write if he needed anything else.
Another scorch mark in the family tree appeared with the death of their uncle. In his last act, Alphard left everything to Sirius, giving him the stability needed to move into his own flat and begin the task of creating a life outside of Hogwarts. Andromeda had to admire the nerve, even if the result of his defiance didn't show until he was gone. Now, at least, she had one member of the noble and most ancient house of Black sending her letters. She used the end of Sirius' schooling as an excuse to try a new cake recipe and smile at the way Sirius could make her daughter shriek with peals of laughter.
Family first.
Sirius was determined to commit his time and life to fighting against the growing threat of dark magic. She knew that some form of resistance had to be forming, but disappearances and Dark Marks were enough to make her hesitate. On the other side, there were too many faces she knew. Too many people who had personal reasons to seek their revenge and take what mattered most to her. Her courage failed her, as she felt it always did, but she had to keep Nymphadora safe. She would keep her head down, care for her daughter, and make a life she could be proud of with Ted.
As the headlines darkened, Sirius did too. He smiled less and his visits became less frequent. Nymphadora asked about him, but Andromeda did not have a good answer. She couldn't explain why he looked drawn and secretive. She tried to explain that his disappearances had nothing to do with her. Of course he loved Nymphadora, because who could not? She was clever and infectiously sweet. In the middle of the night, she would hide from nightmares by crawling in bed between Andromeda and Ted. Andromeda held her close and mumbled soft reassurances that nothing could hurt her.
Despite her best efforts, Andromeda caved to following the headlines. Somehow, she resisted reading every article, but she needed to know something. From their tidy flat, she couldn't do anything but hope for an end to it all. Every day, she debated telling Ted that it was better if he stayed home. Ted assured her that he was safe at work, but it didn't stop the swoop in her stomach before he came back each night.
In early November, her mug crashed on the floor when she snatched the paper from the delivery owl. Ted found her standing among the ceramic shards, mouth open and fingers crumpling the pages. The front page simultaneously cheered for the apparent downfall of the wizard who ripped so many families apart and the arrest of a man who helped him do it. Her eyes froze on the name of someone who wasn't deemed worthy of a trial before a lifetime sentence in Azkaban. Sirius Black, the paper said, but Andromeda didn't want to believe it at first.
Hadn't Sirius cursed their family's ideals in this very kitchen? Hadn't he told her about his friends who were practically family and who loved him instead of the purity of his blood? Hadn't he hugged Nymphadora and patiently read her the same bedtime story a dozen times? Hadn't he taken Ted's hand and teased him about treating his favorite cousin well? Hadn't he looked her in the eye and said he was proud of her?
Family was always her weakness, but she thought Sirius was different. He laughed when others stayed silent. He fought when it was easier to stay home. He was the lion in a den of snakes.
Or was she the biggest fool again?
Maybe, Andromeda thought, as she sank into a chair at the kitchen table, it was best that there were no more Blacks.