Hair is dripping, hiding that I'm terrified
But this is summer, playing dumber than in fall
Everything I say falls right back into everything
I'm not in the swing of things
wrapped in glittering dress and nursing a spirited drink, she is something of a force; andromeda spends her time chatting, listening, dancing the night away, having arrived as an extension to her parents’ guaranteed appearance. the blacks wasted no opportunity to show their support to yaxley’s party, but andromeda herself weaves between supporters of both sides, choosing mostly to flutter about bagnold’s people if only to turn heads and charge whispers. the buzz that galas provided were next to none -- she had grown accustomed to a life spent rubbing shoulders with the opulent and powerful, and even more so with the atmosphere so politically charged.
dromeda almost finds her way to another pocket of what seems to be very interesting conversation when a ghost of the past enters her peripheral -- it takes her a moment and a string of skipped heartbeats to recognize thabit colton, whom she had tried ( and failed ) to erase from her memories for almost a decade. there is a wall of repressed history and regret that should prevent her from seeking him out, but she does just that, crossing the sea of guests to make her way to him. there’s a stride in her step ( fuelled by the liquid courage ), ignoring the racing heart in her chest as she draws in close.
“ word around tells me that you aren’t one to leave your office often, ” dromeda swirls the contents of her glass nonchalantly, voice smooth and poised as though they were simply perfect strangers, “ should i consider myself lucky to have stumbled upon you tonight ? ”
the hit wizard is abstracted; cerebral intuition targeting the prior evening of anthracite linens. the raven-tressed witch’s mouth parts, inquisitive syllables tumble from her tongue, and he fails to discern them. enchanted teaspoon twists a minuscule whirlpool in black tea, drowns a cube of sugar within its tart vortex. the silver utensil sustains its spherical evolution, saccharine particles disintegrating, spell drifting needlessly onward. sheets warp into roughly lain kisses, into proclamations that linger throughout obsidian hours. the elegant vision across from him capsizes a page – peripheral glimpses an embossed headline declaring MURDER, sprightly debris envelops MISSING witch. elladora’s misplaced silhouette, he affirms, lacks death eater affiliation.
andromeda black pries meric mulciber from sinful encephalon. her laugh, deceivingly honeyed, startles his internal confessional. ❛ – what ? ❜ hazel irises focalize, newfound awareness accompanies the column of current perusal. the possessed teaspoon ceases its dizzying motion. ❛ shame if she were to go missing. ❜ he proffers further, ❛ if i knew she wouldn’t be so bloody thrilled to make the front page, i’d see it happen. ❜
she wonders if life has always been this blissfully complicated -- she, andromeda, halfway PARIAH of the sisters black, sitting across the younger of the lestranges at an upscale tea shop on a sunday afternoon, seated in the more lavish section among others of societal elite. clasped between her fingers is a newspaper brandishing yet another darkness come upon their world -- missing, murdered, general upheaval and unrest. yet she sits comfortably, legs crossed and a laugh trailing on her lips over the rumour mill and petty gossip, as though the world wasn’t falling to ruin for other witches and wizards -- those unlike her, unlike them, without the luxury of spending galleons on and precious time in a private seating space in an ornate tea shop. andromeda thinks ( knows ) she shouldn’t be so comfortable, so relaxed with a man that stood for everything she wants to get away from ( first the arranged marriage, then outright involvement with the deatheaters ) -- and she doesn’t know whether or not she’s disappointed by the lack of a sinking feeling or moral pull.
IT CAN’T BE HELPED, is what she tells herself ( is it such a crime ? ) -- it’s the weak way around, a temporary conclusion rooted in unwillingness to give up yet another piece of her life, herself in a way. “ i want to tell you that it’s incredibly rude to wish going missing onto someone -- ” and she should, but dromeda elects instead to roll her eyes and neglect the part where rabastan suggests to take it upon himself, “ -- but it’s skeeter, and i’m positive that there’s an entire litany of people waiting to give her a piece of their mind. shame that my exposé is the dullest of them all. ”
andromeda appears at the grounds with a muted pop, hailing her arrival via apparition -- the first things her eyes land on are the flowers, beautiful and well-tended to as she last remembers them to be. she resigns herself to basking in their loveliness later; for now, she crosses the grounds in half-hurried strides towards the front door. the bag slung in the crook of her arm houses gifts for the children and the whole family ( her family, too -- but this one in particular is too good, too pure for her that andromeda almost feels like she is trespassing each time she is with them, but also finds herself unable to resist the want to be and spend time with some of the only completely happy parts of family she has ), hoping that if there was a celebration or birthday of sorts she’d be prepared, and if there was no festivity, she’d have a reason to visit.
blood traitor, this cousin of hers, the patriarch of this household, had been named -- curious it was that his erasure from the maternal side of her family only brought her closer to him. domitius had been brave in the ways andromeda could only wish she could be. in a way, by being around him, she envisions and vicariously lives a life ( so intricately idealized ) that she could have been immersed in had she just been able to break free.
she is swept out of her thoughts when the door swings open, smile instantly lighting up her features. “ i come bearing gifts ! ” it’s the most jubilant her voice has been in weeks, the closest incident it’s chimed this sweetly was in passing conversation with cissa. “ and i know it’s early, but i wanted to slip away as soon as i could -- i do hope i’m not intruding. ”
date: early spring of 1979
location: the black family manor
it’s an art form, the way andromeda flits and flutters about with well-mannered grace in a room filled to the brim with the very same people she would rather not associate with. appearances are everything, however -- this was a lesson ingrained in her from a young age, taught to perfect a fake smile and present herself with polite decorum regardless of the thoughts and feelings brewing beneath the surface. so she does just that, making rounds through the guests ( criminals, miscreants, deatheaters -- the kind of company her family hailed as honourable and respectable, the kind of company that made disgust sink her stomach and held her down like a ball and chain ) when she would much rather be anywhere else but in the thick of the party.
a glass of champagne is held between deft fingers as she takes carefully placed steps through the ballroom, sipping every so often in a vague attempt to mellow her spirit and to keep her skin from crawling even more than it already did.
figure approaches in time for her to halfway drain her glass, a brow raised upon recognition of who it is -- mulciber, whom she knows only by extension of dearest bella. “ i do believe you’ve come upon the wrong sister, ” soft chuckle tumbles from equally soft lips, contrast to the tongue-in-cheek comments to bracket it, “ and in any event you might ask, no, i am not aware of bella’s whereabouts. ”
andromeda finds herself ducking into the pub needing to breathe -- the manor has proven itself far too suffocating for what seems like the hundredth time this week, the catalyst having been a row at the dinner table. it’s almost laughable how at twenty-six bloody years old, her mother can still make her feel so small and broken, and that the household feels more like a dungeon than a home -- so she removes herself from it all, if only for the rest of the evening, and resigns herself to a goal of chasing away the anger with a string of strong drinks.
she had originally planned the night to be spent alone -- after all, dromeda abhorred the idea of anyone seeing her shit-faced and emotional to boot -- but she finds herself looking for a familiar face, hoping to satisfy a craving for company while still sober and coherent. dark eyes scan the bustling pub floor and land on a certain james potter. andromeda had lapsed him all of six years in school and much relies on sirius’ take of the boy, so there are a few holes in the image and perception of him in her mind -- but what she does know is that he has become sirius’ refuge, having given him the love and family her own had failed to provide him with. for that, she is grateful.
“ -- and here i thought i’d find sirius here with you. i was always under the impression that the two of you were conjoined at the hip. ” the greeting is halfway between serious ( ha ha ) and a joke. andromeda nods toward the bar stool next to him. “ is this seat taken ? ”
helloooo my loves ! i know finals are kicking our collective asses, but if anyone is interested in a STARTER from dromeda, then feel free to like this post ! i’ll be assuming connections for the most part but if you have something specific in mind, IM me!!
slender fingers peruse through the prophet held in her hands but truly only one section catches her eye -- amidst the reports of terror and upheaval in recent events, the gossip column finds itself a frequent visitor in andromeda black. she spots names that intrigue her, “details” on family and acquaintances alike, bits of so-called information filed away in her mind for later investigation. dark eyes scan the list up and down, expression somewhere between perplexed and strangely amused. “ can you imagine making a living out of gossip, prying into people’s lives ? ” the query is posed with a slightly daring lilt, as though an invitation for whoever to jump in and defend or refute the apparent sightings.
andromeda flips the page if only to appear interested in the other contents -- quidditch statistics ( she’d only ever been halfway interested while in school, if only to bat eyes at players ! ), a report pertaining to her line of work that she decides to dwell on later; it is an issue for working andromeda. for now, she is settled in her social skin and abuzz with petty interest. unsurprisingly, she eventually flips back to the page entitled sightings by skeeter. andromeda knows it’s all stretched truths and embellishment ( for the most part ), meant to stir the pot and create friction drawn away from the war, entertainment for people who have nothing better to do than live vicariously through the scandalous lives of others.
“ i might have to start looking over my shoulder more often. perhaps i may even need to double check the loo, the trash bin -- ” out comes a laugh that is as sweet as it is biting, and a shake of the head, “ -- skeeter is everywhere. ”
( damn reyna, back at it again with another disaster daughter ) -- but HELLO it’s me again, this time with andy black herself. don’t be fooled by that sweet face, there’s a storm brewing beneath her skin!! andromeda as a character is very close to my heart ( she was one of the first muses i ever wrote for ! ) and i’m very excited to pick her up & put my own spin to her this time around. i welcome all the plots, come love us !!
* △ — the dark lord has targeted [ ANDROMEDA BLACK ] ! the muggles say she holds resemblance to [ ADELAIDE KANE ]. the [ 26 ] year old [ CIS FEMALE ] was [ WARM & FAMILIAL ] before the war, but have now become [ SECRETIVE & DETACHED ]. though they were once a part of [ SLYTHERIN ], they have now taken up the position of an [ APOTHECARY POTIONEER ]. whispers throughout the ministry claim that the [ PUREBLOOD ] is actually a [ NEUTRAL ], but i wouldn’t report that to the daily prophet.
THE STORY:
warnings: ( parental abuse tw, self harm tw )
SISTERS CUT FROM THE SAME STAR. the second of three sisters, andromeda had taken up the role of being the glue that held them together from a young age. she sought to emulate bella’s intensity and narcissa’s grace, hoping to become middle ground and to be loved by both in equal measure, because without a doubt did she love them with all her heart. love is not something andromeda takes lightly – growing up in a home in which there was a love drought, non-existent in the marriage of their parents’ and intangible in their noble house, andromeda struggled with the concept of love and fought tooth and nail for the scraps of it she could find. in her sisters, she found it in abundance, and for the first fifteen years of her life, andromeda safeguarded their bond with a passion. she was never too far away from one or both of her sisters, in tutoring lessons, in leisure, and in due time in the walls of hogwarts as well. there was a time when andromeda was content with the idea of forever continuing to disguise herself as aperfect pureblooded woman if it meant holding her sisters close for the rest of her life.
WHY BITE THE HAND THAT FEEDS?andromeda has always been a people pleaser, especially towards her parents. she always feels like there’s something she lacks in and feels the need to prove her worth. as a child, perfection was one step closer to gaining her mother’s affections and two steps away from a verbal or physical lashing; as a student, andromeda vied to be at the top of her classes ( whatever it took to get to the top – andromeda definitely was not past bribing fellow students for answers, using honeyed words to get some leverage, and outright cheating ), as well as presenting herself as a pristinely as possible. she wanted to be a good reflection of her family, to see her parents’ iron-fisted way of child rearing as a twisted form of love. though she had never been the brightest ( after all, she much preferred the arts, literature, languages, and practical subjects like potions ) she was good at pretending and mastered it like an art form.
somewhere along the lines, the desire to please her parents and family ebbed – before, andromeda wanted nothing more than to make them happy, make them proud, and perhaps in doing so she would earn their coveted affection. but as the years went on, her parents grew colder, harsher, more heavy-handed than the years prior – and she never seemed to reap the benefits of all the love she poured out to them.
they do not love me, and i do not have to love them.
SHE’S GOT YOU HIGH. in her later years at hogwarts (and continuing well into her early twenties), andromeda was her own brand of trouble. newfound liberation and the sweet taste of quiet rebellion were some of her favourite things – in addition to the fact that she was, in some way or another, attempting to garner all the good attention she never seemed to command back at home. it was exhilarating to sneak out of the dormitories and classes and more “important” things to do, just to be shoulder to shoulder with the very same people her parents would never allow her to be caught dead with. to make a name and reputation for herself outside of the one pre-determined for her was a high that she never anticipated she would want.
CREATURE OF HABIT. she has always had a habit for biting and picking at her nails, born from nervousness and fear. it brings her some kind of comfort when she’s in a state of unrest or numbed blankness. the sensation, the firm press of teeth to nail and nail to nail bed is as delightful as it is hurtful. as a child, she was often reprimanded for doing so – druella black made a show out of a weekly inspection of her nails, more often than not finding an unsightly scene of scarring, bleeding, and the most unladylike of hands. for a brief period of time, she managed to make andromeda stop (or so she thought – instead, andromeda turned to picking at other, less visible parts of her; scratches on her thighs, pinches on a delicate stomach).
PAWN LEFT STANDING. andromeda has been deemed the sister hardest to marry off. between her stints of rebellion (and the far from pleasant rumours those incidents circulated) and the intense way she carries herself at social functions, she is far from the ideal, demure wife that her family wants to pawn her off as. andromeda has a lengthy history of failed engagements (all of which she has found a way to sabotage one way or another) and at twenty-six years old, her parents are still working tirelessly at finding her a match. this is something andromeda is wholeheartedly against and if at all possible, evade completely – she is working her way towards totally leaving the black family and pureblood society as a whole, but it is always easier said than done.
PRESENT DAY. andromeda works as an apothecary potioneer, hoping to make a living out of the only “rigorous” subject she excelled in while in school. she still lives at the black family manor, being unmarried and notoriously trouble-making, cygnus and druella intend to cage her in until she leaves with their blessing. unbeknownst to them, andromeda has been making quiet work out of trying to bring herself as far away from the blacks as possible – she hopes to make connections, allies, and friends that she can trust and who trust her back, so as to have support and a safety net to fall on. it proves difficult to trust her, though; total neutrality one day, surrounded by pureblood elite the next, and then the week after she is rumoured to be fraternizing with those her family deems as dirty blooded – andromeda black has become nothing short of an enigma.
AESTHETIC:
skirts hiked up just a little too high, wildfires ablaze in the summer heat, the intense craving for love, selflessness and selfishness intertwined, scrubbing your hands until they are red and raw but still never feeling clean, laughing at the demons nipping at your heels, “a golden cage is still a cage”, piano music in at the end of an empty hall, secrets whispered in the dark, toeing off high heels at the end of the day, bourbon poured into a champagne flute, cracks and damage on an ornate statue; a star turned supernova, destruction and rebirth.
WANTED PLOTS: i’ve been super swamped irl this week BUT in the coming few days/week i’ll definitely have time to catch up and write so!!!!! <3
family drama. good ol’ most noble and ancient house of shit constantly hitting the fan.
friends !! in both the pureblood circles ( did anyone call for angst? ) and on the neutral/order sides.
old friends ? old flames ??
bethrothed -- either previously ( because andromeda has a bit.. of a track record of spurned arrangements ) or the engagement is in the works. i love complication, drama, and all the angst this plot will bring.
QUESTION: why do we mortals love icarus so?
ANSWER: because he flew, darling.
he fell, yes, but first he dared to soar.
we are all trying to learn from him.
sunlight & other impossible things | myths reimagined #6 | inkmagician (via inkmagician)
dededos
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