AD MELIORA

andromeda black tonks. xxxii. apothecary. ludovico 'ludo' bagman. xxxi. beater extraordinaire. for principium.

[perfidiez]

𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒊𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒛 — multimuse blog penned by r and affiliated with @principiumhq. in no way in support of jkr’s t3rf a$s.

per·fi·dy — ( noun ) : 

the quality or state of being faithless or disloyal : treachery. 

an act or an instance of disloyalty.

𝙰𝙽𝙳𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙴𝙳𝙰 𝚃𝙾𝙽𝙺𝚂, 𝚗é𝚎 𝙱𝙻𝙰𝙲𝙺  — lily james, thirty - two, apothecary. currently neutral.

↪ tag drop. full statistics. full doc ( contains timeline, app / background, tdlr and connection ideas ). — imagetic resources by @/zoya-nazyalcnsky ; @/neonhelper 

𝙻𝚄𝙳𝙾𝚅𝙸𝙲𝙾 '𝙻𝚄𝙳𝙾' 𝙱𝙰𝙶𝙼𝙰𝙽 — shamier anderson, thirty - one, beater for the wimbourne wasps. currently neutral.

↪ tag drop. full statistics. full doc ( contains timeline, app / background, tdlr and connection ideas ). — imagetic resources by @/merrittrps ; @/gifsbyiraclemay​

[perfidiez]

𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 :  chaem choi ayutthaya ( @vaingloryss ) 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 : the square in diagon alley. 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎 : 24th of september of 1984.

to be a quidditch player was not deemed reputable enough for her family, but even the blacks were known to enjoy the game — mother did not think it all too proper for the three of them, as girls, to attend matches and quidditch cups, but those are impossible to avoid at hogwarts. still, andromeda had never understood the hype about such brute, ridiculous, boring game — the intensity of her dislike only increased as the years passed and she got to know real players with real injuries: terrible head injuries that would leave them weeks recovering, sprains and broken bones that, at times, never really mended; all of that not to talk about players, who, most of the times, could be just insufferable.

so when nymphadora first saw witches flying on brooms in a report on a pudlemere united game in the prophet, andromeda despaired. nothing could dissuade the girl from trying it out herself, and after months of convincing, she had gotten her first broom. it would be weeks until andromeda allowed her to get on top of it, of course, and although the idea of having her only child, her ‘i trip over my own feet and break mum’s favorite glass’ daughter, flying and partaking in such a dangerous sport absolutely terrifies her, andromeda has little power to stop her. and so, andromeda was forced to tag along in games — many of these had been the holyhead harpies’, but by proximity with their stadium and by the positive influence a team of all women could offer to a young pre - teen.

and that was how she came to stand in a line, waiting for her turn with emma vanity. nymphadora had spent the entire past week pestering her parents about it, and while andromeda was able to coax the girl out of not buying the new model of broom, there was no way of letting this go. and, of course, vanity had to take her break just as they walk up to her. “stay here,” andromeda speaks in a tone of voice that warns her daughter not to talk back, as she turns around to go after that familiar head of hair. “ayutthaya,” andromeda had been her head girl, she knew the girl enough to be demanding — and marveled that she had grown out of her teenage phase and into truly, one of the prettiest witches she had seen. “you can’t just leave when there are kids in line. i don’t expect you to know how infuriating a kid can be when they’re waiting for something, but well? will it be long?”

[perfidiez]

𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 :  regulus black ( @unforgivablle ) 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 : the square in diagon alley. 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎 : 22nd of september of 1984. 

her memories of regulus are all sort of outdated. while she could see sirius all too well roaming around her shop with his wicked grin, a hand going through his far too long hair ( she has begged him to cut it how many times now ? ) and the other on a vial or two, hoping she will not notice when it goes missing, all she sees of regulus is that sweet cheeked infant that barfed on her christmas dress — mother had thrown quite a fit, and kreecher had hurried to take the baby away from her while their own elf wiped her up; in that very evening, she had went to regulus' nursery and whispered that it was not his fault and, if anything, he did make her night. the last she had seen him had been at dinner on the first night of vacation for the boys, over ten years ago. by then, he was still moderately plump and only moderately sweet ( there is only so much sweetness one can retain under their household, after all ), but he had been a child regardless.

the man she sees now is not a child. taller than her, he bears little semblance to sirius — she is very uncomfortable to notice that he, instead, resembles both father and uncle orion far more, with a tightness in his posture that is all too familiar to her ( after all, hadn't she walked just in the same manner? dreading to step out of the way. had she stayed in the ministry, regulus' job would be hers. the thought alone is horrifying, and it is worse to think just what sort of thing regulus has been exposed to under her father ).

shuddering gently, she snaps out of a daze, blinking as she removes her gaze from her cousin to the list of names in the clipboard she holds onto just a bit too tight. there's at least a dozen of names on the list, a number that is perhaps daunting as she considers how she will have to separate groups not to cause an explosion too big in the square, though despite it all, andromeda would be willing to add one more.

"you could take part of the potion contest, if you'd like." the confidence in her voice is entirely fabricated, but the smile on her lips as she tentatively approaches her cousin is genuine. "i can waive the age rules for you." she taps her nails on the clipboard for emphasis, purposefully ignoring how silly it was to ask a twenty and something to participate in a competition for children — something that, on its own, is all too telling of how she perceives regulus. "even a ministry official should have some fun in this festival."

[fawnaura]

Anne Sexton, The Complete Poems; To Bedlam and Part Way Back (1960), excerpt from “You, Doctor Martin”

[gidprxwett]

Where: The shops

Who: @perfidiez

Shopping was a rather abhorrent hobby for Amara. She hated having to drag herself through the shops and much preferred making the different things she needed come to her. It wasn’t that she hated being among people it was simply that she detested the whispers that followed her around. The ones who weren’t a part of the pureblood society had no tact. She knew her peers whispered about her but they had the sense to do so where she couldn’t hear. Those she found herself around now though had never learned the art of whispering. 

Another dress thrown onto the rejected pile she had almost lost hope of finding anything worthy of her when she ventured back to the racks looking over the various colors. A familiar face caught her attention and she smiled moving closer to the girl. Andromeda. They had been planning weddings together and during that time Amara had come to care for her. Though she was married to someone below her now she still held a touch of warmness for the girl. “Andromeda how are you? You look lovely like always. Are you here to find a new dress?”

[perfidiez]

in her most honest days, andromeda could admit there were many things she missed from her former life — she would be obtuse, blinded by pride just like them if she said otherwise — and the luxuries were certainly on top. today, particularly, she muses how comfortable it was to simply have a tailor attending to your own home, instead of having to spend hours and hours running through shops from shop to find something that you like. needless to say, it was only her obligation as a mother that guided her to this shop though, for her own sanity, she had left nymphadora with her father.

amidst a quiet judgement of a bright pumpkin patterned cape she was just too sure her daughter would wear just out of spite, andromeda’s attention is robbed by the sound of another calling onto her name; the voice seems foreign, but the face is not — few would not know amara’s beautiful features, as the prophet never failed to report on each of her nuptials, as each of the tragic events that caused amara to return to her maiden name. if andromeda remembered correctly, that had been the last she had seen, and even if she blocks out the details or however this husband met his end, she has tact enough to offer the other a smile. “i’m glad to see life has returned to your cheeks, amara. and the color to your wardrobe?” widowhood did often run its course within the right time — andromeda dreads to even think of ever bearing the title of a widow. where would she be without ted? possibly just as miserable as any other pureblood wife, occupied with futile errands to distract herself from sharing a life with lucius malfoy. 

the elder shrudders gently, and shakes her head, looking back at her housemate. “i had not thought of it, actually. nymphadora —” a small flush rushes through her cheeks, but the pause in her speech is almost  imperceptible before she is gesturing towards the children’s rack. “my daughter, she’s ten, and as the cliche goes, keeps running out of her clothing. we have very different styles too, so it’s a bit of a headache, but i suppose she may want to look better than the owner of the shop as she welcomes the patrons for the festival.” she lets out a delighted snort at the thought of her dora, so very gregarious, trying not to trip over her bright garnments. “you don’t have one of your own, do you?” there’s only so much tabloids report, after all.

[pixelofthepast]

@perfidiez

Diagon Alley

September 21st, 1984 - 1:13pm

—“Four valerian sprigs,” Pandora smiles, plucking the green stems from the jar before her. The young witch slips the sprigs into a glass vial, which she seals with a cork stopper before slipping it into a draw-string bag and placing it on the counter. “That’ll be three galleons, please,” She smiles, collecting the coins from the patron. The simple tasks that were left to her at the apothecary were what she enjoyed most. Refilling the ingredient jars, ringing customers up at the register, manually sweeping the floors; she always thought they looked cleaner when done by hand.

This year’s festival was only hours away, so Pandora enjoyed the peacefulness of the building before the storefront was filled by holiday shoppers. Andromeda had decided to only open the apothecary for half the day, allowing the employees to get some rest before the coming week’s rush. Her boss had been gracious enough to invite her to lunch once she had finish her day’s shift.

Having Andromeda as a confidant and almost mentor over the past couple years had proven extremely beneficial. Both witches had had similar upbringings and falling outs with their pureblood families, but that was where their resemblance began and ended.

“I’m sorry for leaving you waiting,” Pandora apologizes, sliding into the seat across from her employer. “I had one straggling customer who couldn’t recall whether he needed three or four valerian sprigs for his potion,” she laughs, a bit exasperated. A sip of the milky tea set before her, which Andromeda had already ordered for her, calmed any worries she felt. The small gesture made her smile, happy that the two of them had spent enough time together to know how they took their tea. “Do we have any more preparations to square away before the autumn equinox festival?”

[perfidiez]

sometimes, it still felt bizarre that radicati has been open for so long — there was a time she had so longed to have something of her own, and believed such a thing would never become reality —, long enough for her to have had built - in traditions: one of the most endearing ones would be the gathering of the staff prior or after big rushes — such an opportunity for splurging was bred on generosity and business savvy, as a well - taken care of staff proved to work harder, but andromeda, at times, wondered if pandora did not tire of her ( andromeda herself did not have much to complain about the girl, but overthinking has always become her ).

for the second time in the month ( and the fourth in the year ), she made her way to their favorite place, a gem yet undiscovered between the muggle and wix worlds — run by a squib that had long parted from their pureblood family, the small bistro was mostly visited by non - magic passer - bys who saw it as a cute little retreat from their busy days, as well as anti - purists who seemed content to put their wands down for a few moments as they enjoyed good service. and good service they did find, for she has not been sitting long before the arrival of her platinum - haired clerk, yet their drinks are still warm and she already has a bowl of salad in front of her.

“i wasn’t sure if you were going for a meal or a snack, but tea is always certain.” is what she offers instead of a complaint for the other’s small delay, but andromeda attentively listens to their tale regardless, the corner of her lip crisping up. “it’s a good thing you were the attendant and not me, or else we’d be running much later.” she raises her eyebrows playfully, reaching forward for her own cup; it was no secret that andromeda was a controlling one, but despite her apparent neutrality, she could not help but be downright meddlesome at times, and the poor customer would likely grow annoyed of hearing the shop keeper give them the right recipe to the t, with nagging and all. 

concealing an amused smile as she takes a sip, it only dies down to be replaced by a small frown as the dark - haired tries to count the necessary arrangements in her head. “not from the top of my head, but i do have a list.” she always did, after all; stabbing an aubergine and popping it quickly into her mouth, she shifts in her seat so she may reach for her bag, and a notebook within it. “do order something, pandora. you’re off the clock, i’m the one who has to worry about this now.”

[perfidiez]

𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 : lily evans - potter ( @cursedwords​ ) 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 : lily’s office, somewhere in london. 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎 : 17th of september of 1984. 

andromeda had not traveled much — she recalls of christmas now and then in france alongside her maternal family, sneaking away from the celebrations with bella and evan, before returning swiftly to dinner, fingers over her lips as she was the only one attempting not to disclose the scent of firewhiskey in her breath. but these are distant memories, and now grown, she collects letters and postcards; the last ones to the pile had arrived almost one at each week, all addressed from countries across the sea, where the sun was ever warm, auspiciously invigorating the new marriage of the evans - potter.

it was the arrival of a fifth letter that had driven her to this office building, climbing up the stairs with some odd excitement — it had been over a month since the wedding of the year, as dubbed by the ever voracious media, and to say she had missed both of their company would be to put it lightly: james did give her a headache or two ( definitely two, if sirius was tagging along ), but her affection towards that tall brat had only grown for the last four years, when she felt tasked to him as a mother would; lily, on the other hand, had become such a constant presence, with their weekly meetings, that she longed to resume their schedule. and, of course, putting sentimentalism aside, lily had been given, alongside her wedding gift, the task to search for a few expert herbologists and antiquaries with certain items only found in south america, some of which andromeda was very much anticipating to getting her hands on ( she had already heard from lúcia andrade, one of the names on the list she had handed to lily, and all the witch had to say was praises so andromeda was, understandably, curious to hear of the other side ).

the door to the known office is open, but andromeda knocks on the wood before walking in, a grin immediately taking over her features as she catches sight of the amber hued locks of the new mrs. potter. "i'm not sure if i should be happy you're back or horrified skeeter's sources check out." andromeda had been both amused and annoyed that the nosy woman had gotten all right in her gossip about james and lily, seeing as she had been, thankfully, excluded from all the affair. "how's married life treating you, darling? ted has been rather looking forward to you two to finally join the old boring married couple club."

[perfidiez]

𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 : aleyna macmillan ( @analytiic​ ) [ cont. from here ] 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 : diagon alley. 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎 : 15th of september of 1984.

    ──     among  other  things  ,  aleyna  prides  herself  on  being  observant  .  there’s  a  file  closely  held  to  her  chest  ,  containing  far  too  much  parchment  for  it  to  be  subtle  .  an  oddity  among  others  in  diagon  alley  ,  she’d  be  hiding  in  plain  sight  and  blending  into  fellow  wixen  …  were  it  not  for  the  fact  that  aleyna  is  quite  the  bad  liar  .  eyes  constantly  darting  around  ,  confidential  records  clutched  far  too  tightly  ,  she  feigns  surprise  when  andromeda  pulls  her  aside  .  ❝  caught  ?  there’s  nothing  to  catch  ,  ❞  she  lies  ,  letting  out  a  feigned  laugh  .  looking  around  her  ,  aleyna  makes  sure  that  nobody  can  see  or  listen  to  them  before  sighing  and  confessing  .  ❝  alright  ,  maybe  i  should  have  disapparated  .  i  thought  i  was  being  subtle  …  but  obviously  not  .  oops  ?  ❞

people watching was an unfortunate policy made into a boredom - demanded routine — before, it was necessary for her to know just who to approach and how to approach them, so she may reflect them like clear water, but now, andromeda is but doomed to the tedium brought by the lack of costumers, as the patrons and shopkeepers from diagon alley settle in that weird stage between the bustling season of stocking up ingredients for the start of the school year, and the samhain. as aleyna breaks the monotony, she is all too familiar: not only is she dark haired and dark eyed, gracefully tall as andromeda herself had once been, her perfect posture seems to be tainted by the keeping of a secret andromeda could not help but to wonder just how deep it ran. could it be like her own, at that age ? 

her words are but a well - meaning warning, and it is difficult to keep the cheek from not appearing in her gaze as the black allows her eyes to wander across the files. “are those important? you ought to take care, miss macmillan. the paper tells us we are living in dangerous times — what if some odd sort of thief comes and takes those files away before you’ve made a copy? your boss may have your head.” or your mother’s, andromeda bites back from insinuating what may as well be the truth — it certainly was for her, in her time in the ministry. how deep the similarities run, she wonders? 

assuming genuine concern, laced with gentle curiosity, the eldest nods towards her own shop. “would you like me to give you a folder to keep those ? that may lend you some subtlety. or you can use my floo to return to your office, should you prefer it.”

[perfidiez]

purcs​:

( ... )

sensing  a  slight  disconnection  from  her  patient,  the  experienced  mediwitch  did  not  bother  to  make  senseless  small  talk,  grabbing  her  chart  from  the  bedside  whilst  instructing  the  fair - headed  woman  to  get  more  comfortable.  narcissa  was  in  the  middle  of  toeing  off  her  shoes  when  the  door  creaked  open,  prompting  her  to  look  up  as  a  familiar  face  rushed  into  the  room  in  a  whirl  of  green  robes.  ❝  mother  would  have  had  your  ear  for  barging  in  on  a  closed  door  like  that.  ❞  the  sight  of  andromeda,  along  with  the  thought  of  what  druella  would  do  was,  surprisingly,  what  startled  a  sense  of  feeling  back  into  her  addled  brain.  ❝  this  is  a  private  consultation,  so  i  would  thank  you  to  keep  your  voice  down.  ❞  she  did  not  deign  to  answer  further  than  that,  knowing  her  slight  emotional  detachment  might  cause  her  to  say  something  regretful.  ❝  and  as  much  as  i  am  grateful  for  this  display  of  sisterly  concern,  my  chart  is  with  healer  tenka.  i  am  sure  you  know  her.  ❞  the  mediwitch  was  only  the  oldest  maternity  healer  in  the  hospital  and  someone  that  narcissa  had  been  seeing  for  nearly  a  decade  now.

❝  can  you  stay  ?  i  am  …  not  feeling  quite  all  there.  ❞  

“it’s a good thing i do not have a mother.” it is a cruel remark, especially when said so non - chalantly, but andromeda had never been attached to druella — nor druella to her, to whom andromeda was just a disappointment from her birth, without even a chance for a narcissistic, twisted affection, as the matriarch had found on her last child — and so, to be cut off from the body and the memory of the rosier had not been a loss, certainly not a greater one than druella had inflicted upon her when she was in andromeda’s life. yet it is difficult not to be reminded of that glazier of a woman when narcissa embodies her so well : demure and detached, spewing noxious words with a chilling calm even when she may be in grave distress.

( once upon a time, andromeda had envied that — only twenty and something months separated her and narcissa, yet the youngest black had came out all druella, leaving andromeda grasping to be able to assimilate into their family so she may fit in. unable to be like or be liked by their mother, she had tragically settled into her role as cygnus’ daughter, but all that she had as a black was, other than her features, the potential to deceit and the promise of turning rotten, like the place of the tapestry of every other black who had been burned before her. blending in like that is an impossibility now, she realizes ).

the crystalization in her sister’s voice does serve to ground her, and andromeda raises a stubborn eyebrow, though she does cease the search, retracting slowly into stillness. she knew tenka alright. the maternity ward of the hospital had never been one for her, even during the odd month or two she had been employed under it as an intern, but she had made her visits, mostly as a companion to apparently lonesome mothers - to - be spotted during triage. her sense of guardianship over those could perhaps be seen as cumbersome to the busy healers from the ward, but healer tenka did not seem to particularly mind her intrusion — perhaps the matron believed her useful to soothe the nerves of the patients, a task that often was an annoyance to the practicing physician, but, either way, to know that her sister had a competent healer was enough to make her comply ( even if more or less willingly ).

“i would stay even if you did not ask me.” andromeda assures, with firmness pairing up well with the mellifluous nature of her tone. “but i appreciate you did.” she adds almost as a confidence, attempting to restrain the nerves in her body so she may appease her younger sister; returning to the beside, andromeda slowly worries her bottom lip between her teeth, trying to discover what malady afflicted the blonde just by sight but even for a seasoned healer — and andromeda humbly does not believe herself as such, childrearing robbing her of more experience to deserve such title — such a task could be a trying one; still, the tonks matriarch tempts with touch what she can not do with vision. “does it hurt?” the elder questions carefully, allowing a hand to cup narcissa’s. “have you bled?”

[perfidiez]

🥭  :    how important to my muse is their hometown,  or where they’re from?  are they proud of it,  or considered a hometown hero?  did they move away,  or do they wish to? — to andromeda

ha. the way andromeda would cackle to this though.

where she is from is important — it has always been, has always permeated her very being, and it's impossible to detach from it now, but that doesn't mean she likes it, and definitely does not say she is proud of it. she used to compare herself with her forefathers — no, i can not be a teacher, phineas nigellus has already ruined that ; if i act like this or like that, i will be cut off like cedrella — but now she prefers to take them as an example to rise above it.

ever since she did move away ( after wishing to do it for many years ), she is cut off, almost to competion —while she has kept some contact with narcissa, both her parents, bellatrix, regulus and aunt and uncle have shunned her, and so andromeda black has become more or less of a boogey man, an unseemingly tale to tell their children. i suppose she may have been a bit of a hero —more of a 'if she can do it, so can i — for sirius for that short moment between her disinheritance and his, but to hear this kind of talk from anyone she used to know is not very common.

that is not to say she does not miss home, however. for a while, she had missed the material comforts of being a black, the easy access to society, and, most of all, the contact with her family. ultimately, she knows it was not worth it to live the way she used to, but still, memories always ring sweeter than they were in reality and so she is doomed to what she has chosen anyways.

[nrcissasblack]

Where: Diagon Alley Who: Open

Armed with her muggle camera, Darcy walked down the streets of Diagon Alley, waiting for inspiration to hit. She had been wanting to photograph the wizarding world through her muggle camera, she thought that it could be a cool exhibit idea if it ever took off. Wizards were so used to their moving pictures and ever since Kieran had bought her this camera she had been wanting to find a way to bridge the gap between her world and her husbands, even if it would take a long time for her to open up to him about what she was doing. She still felt a twinge in her chest when she thought about all of the lies she told him every day. The longer that they went without her confessing what she was, the more guilty and unsure she felt. Would he still love her if he knew that she had been lying to him for a year? She couldn’t be sure. And she didn’t want to lose him. So she kept quiet. 

Stopping in her tracks, she was struck by the beauty of the sunlight hitting off one of the crystals being sold at one of the little stalls. Raising her camera up, she clicked a photo, hoping that it would turn out the way she hoped. Suddenly realizing someone was watching her, her head whipped up and she offered a sheepish smile. “Sorry, am I in your way?” She asked. “I just had to take a photograph, I’m hoping that it turns out.”

[perfidiez]

+

it was not easy to come into terms that her daughter was growing up, but nymphadora sure enjoyed to push the boundaries from her control - freak of a mother — much to andromeda’s chagrin, the girl would wander the diagon alley as if it was her neighborhood, sauntering between each corner and each shop and making more small talk with strangers than andromeda would ever like her to. “if you get one of me, i’ll make sure i look similar to them!” the young tonks promises, ready to strike a pose to the otherwise occupied photographer. “i must see your work first though, to see if you c— ” her petulance is cut off by her mother’s hand as andromeda finally catches up to her daughter, slightly out of breath. 

“please tell me she did not break your camera,” it wouldn’t be far fetched to assume so, but dora turns to her mother in all of her pre - teen frown, ready to let out a whine. “that happened once!” the orange haired ten year old claims, but the slytherin is not phased — her daughter was always well intended, but she had been cursed with a gracelessness that would manage to make druella black faint just from witnessing, much less from dealing with it. all in all, andromeda did not judge dora for it, but she also could not help but to be very concerned for both her clumsy girl and anyone she may encounter, including this young woman with a possibly expensive camera.

[perfidiez]

𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 : antonin dolohov ( @dysfuncticnal​ ) 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 : an auction house somewhere in wizarding london. 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎 : 19th of september of 1984.

it has been centuries since the black manor has not belonged to the heir of the family — instead, it is grimmauld place number 12 that went to the first born — but that did not diminish the magical power within the walls of the estate; its very walls seemed ingraned with some type of witchcraft at times, but none of it compared to the artefacts that passed down from son to son, each one adding their own. to be raised in such luxury of artful articles made it impossible even for the most distinct of the blacks to not be drawn to such objects — when bellatrix announced that she would be pursuing the career of cursebreaker, andromeda could not have been prouder, nor any more gently jealous of how brave her sister was. no, andromeda could never have been so detached from a routine, of a sense of safety, however boring it sounds. instead, she turned her interest from practical to theoretical.

much like every spare, andromeda, too, built her own base of rare objects, most in the form of roots and books; most of these were abandoned, either chucked off to narcissa’s hand or burned by cygnus’, as if they carried her disease and he was afraid her tolerance and rebellion would spread, but once she was able to pursue the lead of more manuscripts and uncommon texts, she had done so, from both muggle and wizarding worlds. it is as such she took her morning to seek out this exemplar she had heard about from mcgonagall herself. amongst caskets and trays of enchanted items, the books seemed unassuming, and, thankfully, she received little competition in the bidding, but it seems her adversary was merely late ( it made for poor gamesmanship to win unrivaled, but, in the end, what mattered is that it was hers ).

she almost does not recognize the man, though at one point he had been familiar enough for her to almost see him as kin — or, at least, more than either of her actual brothers - in - law were ( it is yet another unfair consequence of their world, yet andromeda was the wrong one for pursuing something different, something far away from it? ). “antonin,” she beckons, as tentatively hospitable as she can be — this had been the man that had once reached out for her more often than any one whose blood she shared, but that was years ago. but if anyone knew how to trail things lightly, it was andromeda. “how much do you charge for your services? i would dread to waste so much on this only for it to give me a case of the boils or something worse.”

[perfidiez]

houseofblxck​:

Though she cherishes her privacy, Bella isn’t one to turn away her sisters, even if Andromeda was wearing an expression like a cat who’d just caught a mouse. Bella sheds her cloak and rolls her eyes at the implication in her sister’s tone, giving the younger Black a pointed look. “I should’ve never told you about that.” That being who being Antonin. But one night of late chatter, bonding if you will, led to Bella sharing her secret with her closer sister ( not trusting Cissy to not gossip to whomever she was best friends with these days ). She runs a hand through strands of dark brown hair, moving towards her mirror and wiping away a smudge from her nose as she inspects her visage. 

“Some of us have jobs we’re not so easily called away from, Andy.” Said with a smirk, no harm meant. This time work had taken up her time, rather than, well, other distractions. She’d spent all night breaking an old curse, at least a hundred years old, placed on an estate containing evidence the ministry was trying to uncover to absolve a wrongfully accused wizard of criminal charges. A case she’d taken out of boredom with her most string of work but one that had proven more of a headache than anticipated. “Besides,” she casts a glance over her shoulder at her sister before sauntering over to her bed dramatically and throwing herself onto it, legs draping over Andromeda’s, “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

her shoulders flutter in a shrug, and there is an almost not perceptive straining of her smile as she settles with a "but you did." and she had. the whole companionship deal — or however bella wanted to call it — she had with antonin did not exactly surprise andromeda, but her sister admitting it had, and it had only worsened the younger’s guilt about her own secrets, of a similar yet not at all similar nature. antonin was of good breeding ( she knows it is the word mother would use ), although his choice of career was not exactly ideal, but even his wickedness would appeal to the black — if he maintained the façade of being able to tame the eldest black daughter ( for it was all that it was: a façade; it would not be antonin or anyone else to do it ), then it would be all for the better. andromeda, however, even in her most flowery dreams, could not imagine the same being spoken of her choice of a boyfriend, and so, she remained tight - lipped.

the snippy remark about her own profession is not missed, and andromeda rolls her eyes. "some of us save up sick days especially to waste them with family, bells." the sharpness in her tone is easily dulled as she pokes at her older sister's leg with her own toe; slowly, much like a lazy house cat, the youngest between the two slides from the chair and falls over her sister, on the bed, wrapping herself around the other. "not all of us have boyfriends on the duty either," it is her god - given right as a younger sister to tease her big sister, and andromeda does not conceal her grin, though her words are pointed only because she is purposefully keeping her sister's hands pinned under her embrace ( it is only a plus that her words seek to ward off any suspicions about her own situation — andromeda ignores the pang in her stomach at how deceptive the jest is ).

"did you have time to sleep? obviously you did not bathe." you smell would be a childish remark, andromeda prefers to go with "let me prepare you a bath, b. we can think of gift ideas for cissy while you soak."

[perfidiez]

𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 : mǎ lì macdonald ( @mugglxbornmary​ ) 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 : st mungo's hospital for magical maladies and injuries, london. 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎 : 18th of september of 1984.

 to say she wholeheartedly trusted her employees would be a stretch, but that did not stop andromeda from appreciating just how useful it was to have someone to take in the reins and, as a bonus, nymphadora. to be completely honest, the slytherin was not sure if pandora would be able to cope with both the increased movement of the week due to the influx of curious patrons — eager for both the festival and the brews they could concoct in the propitious moment of the equinox — and her fiend of a daughter, but it had been long since the last she had spent an hour or two having lunch alone with her husband, and if not today, it was unlikely an opportunity would present itself for the following week. the date would have been perfect, were ted not occupied with the triage of a group of pre - teens who had somehow gotten involved with a batch of bad candy — she almost considers asking for the shift supervisor to allow her to tag in, but her husband shoos her away, promising to appear by the shop to take her out to dinner instead; the offer is inticing enough to make her for once phlegmatic, agreeing to it at once.

however sweet it presents, it still leaves her with a warm container of crab korma that definitely would not re - heat as well, either that be by the muggle way ( the last time she touched a microwave, it exploded for no reason ) or by magic. by then, she is half intended on going back to the shop and pushing some more of the food she had packed towards pandora and nymphadora, but before she can settle on it, a familiar face falls on her eyeline, and andromeda’s eyes widen gently in interest. “mary!” it had been some time since she has last seen them, and with a small rush on her step, andromeda catches up to the gryffindor. “two things: do you have a patient to get to immediately? life or death, i mean.” she raises an eyebrow, testing the other — would the dish get spoiled before the patient did? that is what she would like to know. “and do you like mango and crab?”

[perfidiez]

𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 : bellatrix black ( @houseofblxck )​ 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 : the black manor, somewhere in the countryside of england. 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎 : 16th of december of 1972.

these days, andromeda did not care for the winter season — as a child, she had been keen for the presents, the feasts, the opportunities to be paraded as if she was a prized child rather than a forgotten heirloom; then, the three black daughters would huddle underneath blankets and blankets, on the same bedroom, listening to bella's retellings and warming the room with their giggles until someone was to part them. the tradition had endured the years in hogwarts, but after bellatrix's departure from the scottish castle, things had changed. no longer was it the three of them — it was always one. then two. and now, though there are the three of them under the same roof once more, they are too grown to indulge in such childish ventures, and so, andromeda feels like she is freezing. she would have stayed in ted's flat, where it's always warm and comfortable and better than at the manor, but her schedule had already been organized, and andromeda would rather not have to rush out of her boyfriend's bed before going to meet her eldest sister.

so instead, she grunted as she sat in bed, wrapping the entirety of the duvet around her for warmth in a manner that was entirely unbecoming of the very mature woman of twenty she considered herself to be was. the mahogany floor is chillier, so her barefoot steps are quick as she roams down the hall, biting her tongue not to utter any complaints else she would be too loud and wake up the inhabitant of the wrong room — no, narcissa was not invited to this little meeting. she'd rather not involve the birthday girl in the pursuit of her own gift, thank you very much. 

so unceremoniously, with the duvet in one hand and the wand in another, she let herself in bellatrix's room, only to find it empty, with the bed made and all ( a small detail, considering any of the elves could have done that as soon as bellatrix rolled out of the mattress ). furrowing her brows gently, the middle black daughter still inspects the bed, poking for any signs of a possible prank, but it was no use. it would be over twenty minutes until another human appeared in the bedroom and, by then, andromeda had already had her first tea — she almost chokes on biscuits as she hears the loud cracking sound of a body apparating in the room, but swiftly pushes it all down her throat with the last gulp. 

"so you do remember we had a meeting, miss black," the mischief in her tone is muffled by her attempt to stare her sister down, a feat more or less successful when she is still in her pajamas, leaning back on the chair to squeeze her eyes in a playfully menacing posture, in a rather perfect mockery of what an overprotective mother ought to be ( or, at least, how andromeda assumed one might look like ). "where were you that you forgot your most favorite sister like this?" there is a pause, and a smile finally breaks in her façade as she leans in. "or who were you with?"

[perfidiez]

𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 : alice longbottom, née fortescue ( @conatvs​ ) 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 : radicati, diagon alley. 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎 : 17th of september of 1984.

oftentimes, the thought of having another child had crossed her mind — whenever she saw mrs. weasley, in all of her dexterity, as she juggled all those boys, andromeda wondered what it could have been if the child she had lost had been born. would nymphadora become as her older sister was, a steady protector? or as she was, a nurturer? or yet would she remain unmoving and annoyed that another had stolen all that was hers? the latter has always seemed to her unlikely, as, if anything, she has striven to raise a kind daughter, but one can not tell when the most they shared time with another child was a few hours at most. usually, the desire for more progeny found an easy end during playtime — andromeda truly, honestly, has no idea how molly keeps her bits around her because the last time the tonks matriarch had the twins and nymphadora in the same room, the urge to hex them into stillness poked at her with a nasty impatience.

that, however, had not yet pestered her over the two days and one night she was tasked with the young miss longbottom. it helps that julia is not yet two — she does not talk back, she asks for food rather sweetly and when she does run away, her chubby little legs can only take her so far away. but most importantly: julia needs her. it feels almost wrong, rotten, and self - indulgent to fixate on this when her own daughter is only ten, but nymphadora came like her mother: independent and stubborn and with a penchant for her father. there is a sense in this: cygnus was not a very good father, and andromeda was quick to give up on finding love in that man, but this was, thankfully, not the case for ted and nymphadora’s relationship; though their daughter spent more time with her, andromeda at times feels like the intruder between the two, bound to miss the afternoons she had spent humming lullabies for her daughter as the babe clung to her locks.

nostalgic reminiscence is cut short as the door’s bell ring, bringing in the familiar scent of autumn ( purposefully heightened by the charms in the candles ordered for the upcoming festival ), along with two very familiar faces. “look who i’ve found, mum!” nymphadora chippers, dragging by the hand the mother of the curly - haired babe andromeda had been gently bouncing upon her hip. “mama,” julia mumbles, her dark little eyes brightening, and andromeda’s lips curl upwards. “should we switch?” she jokes with the other adult, the smile in her glance growing in an odd mix of muted amusement and admonishment as she notices her own daughter carried a small baggy the slytherin knew to be one containing a few cups of the fortescue’s best ice cream. “i can hold onto yours for a little while longer if you’d rather rest a bit, though.”

[perfidiez]

𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 : narcissa malfoy, née black ( @purcs​ ) 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 : st mungo's hospital for magical maladies and injuries, london. 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎 : mid april 1982.

to be this tender - hearted ough to be a curse, one that andromeda could never truly get used to. before, she thought herself to be her own master, leashing her emotions and not allowing but a disturbance to trespass her ever still façade — such a thing was a necessity for her life, and it is now, whenever she is within the walls of the magical hospital. at times, she still believes herself mighty and true, but an interference is enough to intrude on her placidity, as if a rock was thrown into a river, sending ripples that make her tremble as a maddening consternation consumes her.

this time, the whispers about a mrs. malfoy are enough to do it — much like every other big benefactor of the hospital, narcissa’s official visits to st mungo’s were scheduled with the directory of the organization to maximize visibility, making her appearances an event on its own that did not need to be whispered about; no, it was to be sung praises, written in colorful articles in the daily prophet to muffle any stain her odious husband’s surname may carry ( she knows. andromeda may have never had an inkling for theatrical events of charity, but she had been conditioned to them regardless — of course, narcissa had always been the best pupil between the three of them ). as such, rushed tones of her sister’s appearance call to the memory of the most unpleasant of the afternoons, trapped in a too bright office with stained tighs and an insistent ache in her lower stomach — she had been alone then, alone, alone, so painfully hollow and isolated and shocked she had not had even the will to sob out her husband’s phone number, as requested by the mumbling nurse ( nor the energy to pretend she knew how to use a phone ). andromeda knows well her grip can not be ubiquitous, but she can not give in control this time — and what she can control is that her sister will not be as desperately desolate as she had been.

“narcissa,” the name comes out as a rasping breath at the sight of the familiar gait, all the semblance she had cultivated of the composed healer forgotten — she also forgets that they are not supposed to be related anymore because to hell with appearances. “why did you not write you were coming today? was it a surprise event or do you loathe me so you’d rather keep me distant?” usually exhausted of snippy encounters with those who had repudiated her, today she would be grateful if narcissa acquiesced to the later. “where is your chart?” the eldest between the two fumbles, going from the bedside to the end of it, where the medical prontuary should tell all the information she needed to settle down, but the very familiar clipboard is nowhere to be found.