Honesty Lies | RABASTAN & ANDROMEDA
"It is really not that bad." The witch mumbled, eyes closed and words as soft as echoing ticking of the clock on the wall. "The cuts, I mean - we've all had worst."
Chestnut hair spread his pillow, her head resting on top of his bare, slick chest. As had happened too many times to count, Andromeda could not find the will in her to move too far or too fast. Giving the numbing peace of the moment after the rush and the h i g h was now a need. It was his touch that enhanced this; the soft caresses at her back swayed her into a half sleep state that she found too comfortable to fight.
Andy noticed before, how the trail of his fingertips never quite brushed the fresher bruises in her skin - they just never mentioned it. What was the point? No rational thought existed for this; but it was better not to say it, because to speak it meant it was true, and neither her nor Rabastan could even begin to explain what it meant.
But their talks - though a lullaby - had soon turned into eagerness; a willing desire to talk free and open as the rawness of their act had been.
"You can't really damage property to the point of complete ruin. Though as expected, she's found ways."
Sighing, she wriggle slightly on the spot - sliding off of him and to his side, chin now resting atop a pillow folded beneath her torso, as her fingertips traced random patterns across the boy's arm.
Memory lane was a nasty road, with words coming out unfiltered and thoughts unstoppable ; something the young witch had never allowed before.
"When I was little, I didn't know if I hated her or feared her. Probably both. I hated what she did to my cousins, to my sisters - to me. And I hated the effect she had on me, how scared I was when we were with her, how bad she could make me feel."
Chuckling slightly, Andromeda shook her head. In the back of her head, this was a bad idea and the red flags rose fast in those few dark corners where her thoughts were still clear. Yet, Andy had long stop thinking with her head in these quite moments with her fellow Slytherin.
"My parents would always believe what she said, too. I remember clearly, on our first lesson - my first lesson. I was five, or six years old, late into magic according to her. So she took it upon herself to bring it out of me - my aunt thought it suitable, and proper, to force me into performing spells. But they were dark spells, dark magic and I got so scared even trying it - seeing it, because of course she made a show out if it. At five years old, she wanted me to do these things and I couldn't. I got myself sick, or shocked, I don't know but for months I couldn't do any type of magic. So she told my mom, and my dad, that I was no witch. This one, Cygnus - she said - this one, your daughter, is a squib."
There was a moist in her cheek she hadn't notice before, holding on to the pillow against her chest harder than before. But swallowing back the bit of bitterness in her tongue, she glanced up to meet his gaze, allowing a sigh to follow her words.
"My parents wouldn't look at me for weeks. Isn't that stupid? You'd think they'd try to test me too, or do something about it. That's why she keeps calling me back, obviously - I never learn my lesson."
