#thechainedlady

[youhavebeenadmired]

A N D R O M E D A

I’m trying to get out find a subtle way out not to cross myself out not to disappear

@thechainedlady

[youhavebeenadmired]

(so I saw the fantasy thing but then this happened in my head) The first time Andromeda saw an image of her baby sister all grown up she was consumed with dreams and nightmares of being caught up in her family again. Music and figures swirling around her. Their hands caress her. Grope her. Claw at her. Firmer and more aggressive until she can barely breathe and they're all over her. They're holding her down. They're claiming her. In the end there is only blackness.

[[presented without comment because what can I even add to this nugget of perfection]]

[franklcngbcttom]

Take 2 of These and Call Me in the Morning || Frank & Andromeda || Flashback || March 11, 2008

@thechainedlady

Junior Auror Frank Longbottom hated hospitals. If there was one fact about him that should have been in his chart, this was it. Forget allergies or sensitivities to potions or blood type, all any healer needed to know was that he was going to do his level best to get the fuck out. As if being injured on the job wasn’t bad enough, the idea of being forced to stay in this place was the cherry on top of the shit sundae his day had become. 

Truth be told, he didn’t remember exactly what had happened. 

The last thing he knew, he and his partner were in pursuit of a dangerous dark wizard who’d eluded the department for years. They didn’t even know the bastard’s real name, just called him the Tower Guard due to his tendency to leave victims of his dark magic on Tower Hill. Sadistic bastard. Muggles were even catching on the the fact that London had serial killer and the pressure was on to catch him. They’d had him cornered, it should have been over but he’d dredged up some spell from the depths of dark magic and it had burned through Frank’s shield charm like he’d been a first year at Hogwarts who’d never cast the thing before. He’d felt as though his skeleton had turned to molten lava inside him, his very bones burning him from the inside out. 

When he’d awoken, it was in St. Mungo’s. Someone -- and when he found out who they’d have words -- had removed his clothes and dressed him in a ridiculous gown. There was an angry red burn on his shoulder where the hex had hit that had been partially covered by a thick, mud colored paste. Potions lined the little table next to him and there was no sign of his partner or anyone else. 

“Fuck this,” he muttered, getting up from the bed with a groan. 

He searched the room until he found his clothes and was halfway through getting his trousers on when the door opened. Andromeda Tonks -- perfect. Though they hadn’t exactly been close, there were no pureblood families that didn’t know each other and he was friendly with her husband as well. Had to buy him some points, right?

“Andromeda, lovely to see you. I’m actually feeling much better, thanks. So I’m assuming you’re writing up a discharge form for me, yeah? Wonderful. I’ll just be on my way then!” He finished doing up his trousers and made to walk past her out of the room.

[notanotherblack-blog]

Six Feet Under

Sirius couldn’t look anyone in the eye. Not the estranged aunt and uncle who had lost their daughter, not the two cousins who had always been three, not the brother he’d argued with and spit on only days before. And especially not the muggleborn man holding a small child, eyes swollen with pain, face nicked from a shaky hold on his razor that morning. If he looked them in the eye--if he saw their pain and that pain stood on top of his own--Sirius was certain he would burst into pieces. 

He kept to himself during most of the funeral. The seating was split firmly into two sides: the Noble House of Black on one; the Tonks family on the other. Sirius sat in the back, where no one could see his face and where he could see only the impassivity of rigid spines. His own posture was straight with anxiety, as though pulling himself up to his full 6′2 would frighten Death away, make his cousins cheeks fill with red, make her eyes flutter open and shine bright. 

Because of the effects of the disease she’d been trying to fight--first as a healer, then as a patient--a closed casket had been in her will. She didn’t want them to remember her withered, bloodied beneath her skin, eyes reddened. If only they could also forget lowering her into the ground. 

Then came the time to speak. Ted had asked Sirius to say something--said that Sirius was Andromeda’s closest cousin, though Sirius hadn’t been so sure Andromeda had a preference between him and his brother. It was possible that Ted wanted someone to speak who didn’t abjectly despise Andromeda’s life decisions. Whatever the reason behind the request, Sirius had of course agreed. 

He’d penned something over the course of days, clusters of ideas that he couldn’t string together into anything resembling eloquence. He wasn’t even sure he’d be able to speak over the choking feeling in his throat, so by the time he was able to make himself stand on shaky knees even some of the Blacks had given up on propriety and were looking back at him questioningly. 

The casket and the podium seemed miles away, like he should have taken a train there rather than walk. The seasons could have changed while he made his way up, and by the time he got there, he felt, looking down at the cold, dead wood covering Andromeda’s form, as though he’d aged ten years. 

He swallowed, looked down at his paper, then up. His mother was staring at him, his aunt and uncle looked only at the casket. His father looked at his hands. The Tonks family all watched, many with blurred looks because no one liked to listen to a stranger talk about a dead loved one. 

Finally, Sirius wet his mouth enough to speak, looking straight at his family first. 

“I don’t care who I offend by saying that Andy was the best out of you lot.” He hadn’t entirely meant for those exact words to come out of his mouth, but he couldn’t say he regretted them. He heard someone on the Tonks side scoff, likely in agreement. Sirius pulled himself together and addressed everyone from there on out. Funerals, as tempting as they made it, weren’t a time to talk about present irritations and grudges. 

“She really cared about everyone. I don’t know how she managed that, but she did. She cared about every single family member she ever had, whether they were horrid or not. She cared about every patient she met, even though she had so many people under her command that could do the caring for her. She barely had any time, but she still managed to make time to talk to anyone who needed her, even if it was something stupid. She would have been the perfect mum.” Sirius glanced over at Nymphadora and had to swallow back tears again. 

“Of anyone in the world, Andy deserved what she had: a great job, a brilliant husband, and a fantastic little girl.... and of anyone in the world, she was the last person who deserved to leave that all too early. We’re all going to miss her, and we all have a million reasons. Because she was an amazing person.” Sirius held back tears one last time by letting out a shaky breath. He pulled away from the microphone. 

“I love you, Andy,” he murmured, just for the two of them. He kissed his fingertips, then touched them to the wood, wishing it weren’t so cold. Wishing it weren’t so permanent. 

The world seemed to disappear until he found his way back to his seat, slouched, head in his hands. The best people were always the first to go.