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Chapter Text

The door of the interrogation room slammed shut. Though the Ministry had spared no expense for the brightest and most long-lasting candles to illuminate the room, the flickering light exaggerated the gnarled features of Commanding Auror Alastor Moody as he stumped into the room. He nodded at his Superintendent Auror, a slight favourite of his in the department, Ted Tonks, who was already sat with the witness and had seemingly prepared everyone a cup of tea, his Commanding Auror included.

‘Cheers, Tonks.’ Moody grunted, picking up his cup and taking a sip while he surveyed the witness. ‘Evening, Ms Black.’

Andromeda Black managed a slight nod before had to she turn away to cough a rather hacking cough into her handkerchief. The phlegm was a mix of red and black, a mix of blood and soot, much like her robes and face, which were decorated with a similar combination. Her hair looked lightly singed and there seemed to be some purple bruising around her throat.

‘Perhaps you ought to see a Healer first, Ms Black.’ Moody said, taking another sip. ‘You’re entitled to receive medical care beforehand and there’s no rush to take a statement.’

‘I’ve already suggest that.’ Tonks said as she started coughing again. He leant across the interrogation table to hand her his handkerchief and slid her cup to tea closer to her. ‘I put honey in your tea, Ms Black. It might help a little.’

‘You never put honey in my tea anymore.’ Moody said, his gnarled face hitching into a slight grin as he sat down.

Tonks hastily straightened himself.

‘You’re sweet enough already, Sir.’ Tonks recovered, just about managing a grin of his own before turning back to the witness. ‘Ms Black, are you sure you’d like to proceed?’

‘Y-yes, I’m sure.’ She turned slowly back towards the table and began to reach for her tea. ‘I –,’

There was a knock on the door.

‘For Merlin’s sake, it says engaged on the door.’ Moody growled, getting up again with a long sigh. He stumped over to the door and opened it. ‘What?’

‘Oh, Commanding Auror Moody…’ The woman on the other side of the door seemed to deflate momentarily before she caught sight of the other people in the room. ‘Edward John Tonks, what is Andromeda doing in an interrogation room? Look at the state of her!’

Tonks half-rose out of his seat. ‘Hestia –’

‘She’s got a right to see a Healer, you bastard.’ Hestia Jones attempted to burst into the room but was blocked by Moody’s arm. ‘I’m Undersecretary to the Minister of fucking Magic – I bloody well know her rights.’

‘Ms Jones –,’

‘I’m warning you, let me through or I’ll get you before the Wizengamot for this – I swear on Helga Hufflepuff’s grave –,’ still wrestling against Moody’s outstretched arm, she looked at Andromeda, who was coughing into Tonks’ handkerchief, ‘ – Andromeda, I’m taking you with me. They can’t keep you here. This is ridiculous.’

‘Hes–,’

‘She’s just a bloody witness, Ted.’ Hestia snapped. ‘Whatever she’s got to say, it can wait until she’s seen a Healer.’ She shoved again against Moody’s arm. ‘For fuck’s sake, let me get through. I’ll strip you of that Commanding Auror badge, just you fucking wait.’

‘I asked to give my statement now.’ Andromeda said, her voice just louder than a whisper. ‘Before I change my mind.’

Hestia’s eyes widened just a fraction and she released Moody, taking a step back as a silent conversation passed between the two women.

‘Would you like me to sit in with you?’ she asked finally.

Andromeda shook her head. ‘Could you fetch my Uncle Alphard? I have something I need him to give to Cissy. And I won’t – I won’t be – be able to after –,’

Her eyes watered and her most violent cough thus far came spluttering out of her. She disappeared behind Tonks’ handkerchief. Tonks shifted in his chair, his hand starting to reach out towards her before redirecting it to a wooden box on the table. He opened it and removed parchment and quill.

‘In which case, we should get started.’ Tonks said slowly into the room. ‘The sooner we start, the sooner Ms Black can see a Healer.’

Hestia let out a derisive snort but took another step back. She kept her eyes on Andromeda as she said, ‘I’ll be back soon. I promise.’

She closed the door behind her with just a little too much force so that it slammed loudly. Moody rejoined them at the interrogation table.

‘Right, Ms Black,’ he began as Tonks wrote the day’s date on the piece of parchment, ‘I’ll be leading the interview this evening. Protocol calls for an introduction of me and my Superintendent before we start, but I believe everyone here’s well enough acquainted.’

His gnarled cheeks grinned again as he watched Tonks, a slight blush creeping into his cheeks, cross out a spelling mistake and write the correction above it.

‘I believe you’d like to make two statements and I’m happy to follow you on this one, Ms Black. Where would you like to start? The fire? Or the death of Julian Adams?’

Andromeda dabbed at her mouth with Tonks’ handkerchief, the black embroidered gloves she wore not quite disguising the slight tremble with which they shook.

‘The latter.’ she said eventually, clasping one hand over the other in her lap to control their shivers. ‘I’d like to amend my statement on the death of Julian Adams.’

‘Very well, Ms Black.’ Moody nodded. ‘The floor is all yours.’

Chapter Text

- Chapter One -

In the Ten Years Past

With great relief, Andromeda finally escaped to the workroom. She was incredibly fortunate to be an apprentice to Mr Ollivander, she knew that. Even as she had achieved good marks in her OWLs and later her NEWTs could she not have fathomed that she would be allowed to learn the art of wand-making. There had been nothing but marriage intended for her future. Until the family circumstances had changed, of course.

‘Daughters of the House of Black do not have an occupation.’ her mother had said in scandalised tones after Andromeda ventured her idea. ‘And certainly not as a shop girl.’

Her father had remained silent. His face had betrayed no particular emotion and Andromeda had taken this as an invitation to defend herself.

‘I would work in the shop,’ Andromeda had conceded. ‘But that would only be a small part of it. Mr Ollivander would teach me the theory of wand choosing and then later how to repair wands and how to make them.’

Still her father had said nothing while her mother made noises of despair.

‘It is a respectable occupation. Wand-making draws on the true witchcraft.’ Andromeda had dared look her father directly in the eyes. ‘I – I think I could be good at it.’

Seconds had ticked by.

Then, finally, her father had bowed his head in agreement.

And so she knew how fortunate she was. But days such as this one, a day in the lead up to the Hogwarts’ start of term, where the shop existed in a never-ending stream of wand-fittings, it was difficult to remember. Now in the third year of her apprenticeship she was able to do fittings by herself and in this lead up to the start of term, there was never much time left in the day to devote to parts of her apprenticeship that made the hustle and bustle worthwhile.

Taking her first non-harried breath of the day, Andromeda closed the door of the workroom behind her and made her way over to the large workbench in the centre of the room. She sifted through the things Mr Ollivander had placed there for her.

A battered wand box caught her eye. Excitement rippled through her. If inside the box was an equally battered wand, that meant Mr Ollivander thought her ready to be taught how to repair wands. And once she could repair wands, her next – and final – step would be wand-making.

A smile tickled her lips as she drew the box open to see a wand snapped in two inside.

Clearing a space with her left hand, Andromeda carefully tipped the wand pieces onto the workbench. Several loose splinters sprinkled themselves alongside them. The unicorn hair core looked stretched and vulnerable, exposed but still connected to each of the two halves. Mr Ollivander had left no instructions. He wanted her to work from instinct before seeking his help.

There was a knock on the door.

‘I haven’t tried anything yet.’ Andromeda said, looking up from the wand pieces. ‘I’ve only just opened the box.’

The wispy silver-haired head of Mr Ollivander peered around the door. Though not one for expressing much, he looked particularly neutral. Andromeda’s brow creased a fraction.

‘You have a visitor, Andromeda.’

‘Did I forget a fitting?’ she asked. ‘I was sure I had got through all of them. Mrs Travers and her son missed their appointment but I managed to squeeze them in after the Fortescues.’

‘No, no. A Mr Tonks is here from the Ministry.’ His quiet voice lowered. ‘An Auror.’

‘I’ll come right away.’

She replaced the wand pieces in the box, carefully scraping the splinters into her hand and depositing them with the larger pieces. Then she adjusted her black gloves, straightening them so that the embroidered green ivy pattern stopped being creased, and followed Mr Ollivander from the room.

When they entered the shop floor Andromeda’s eyes fell on the broad back of the Auror Tonks, who was looking out of the shop window at the bustling shopping street beyond. His dark blond hair seemed familiar to her but it was not until he turned upon hearing their entering that she vaguely recognised him as someone, who had been at school with her. A fellow Quidditch player, she thought. She could imagine his muscular build sat quite comfortably on a broomstick, armed with a Beater’s bat.

‘I’ll leave you to it.’ Mr Ollivander murmured and excused himself.

Tonks nodded and then turned his eyes to Andromeda. They were a rather sandy shade of green that complimented the tan of his skin.

‘Forgive the intrusion, Ms Black,’ he began, his voice pleasingly deep. ‘Superintendent Tonks, Ms Black – I’m here representing the Educational Discrimination and Malpractice Investigation Bureau.’

Her father had mentioned the Bureau not so long ago and in not such polite terms. She painted a warm smile across her face.

‘Good afternoon, Superintendent.’ she greeted, extending a gloved hand. ‘And please, call me Andromeda. We were at school together, were we not?’

‘Er, yeah.’ He nodded, shaking her hand. ‘I was the year above.’

‘But of course. You were in my sister’s year.’ She considered him as they let go. His grip had been confident, his eye contact good. If she were anyone else, she might have blushed. But daughters of the House of Black did not blush. ‘Ravenclaw?’

‘No, Hufflepuff.’

‘Ah, yes.’ She corrected the post-handshake crumpling of her gloves. ‘I seem to remember you being a frustratingly good Beater.’

Tonks lips twitched upwards. ‘You do? I’m impressed.’

Andromeda stretched her smile to its maximum capacity.

‘Why wouldn’t I? You made my life as a Chaser incredibly difficult.’

At that, Tonks chuckled. ‘Good to know I made my mark, Ms Bl–’

‘Andromeda, please.’

‘ – Ms Black. I’d prefer to stay formal while on duty.’

‘But, of course… Superintendent.’ she added almost bashfully as she bowed her head.

She relished in the disconcerted tightening of his jaw as he looked down to reach into his pocket and produce a scrap of parchment. ‘Could I confirm your address as 7 Morgana Way in Hogsmeade?’

‘That is correct.’

‘Excellent.’ He cleared his throat and returned to holding confident eye contact with her. ‘This is going to sound a bit intimidating, Ms Black, but this is merely a formality that we’ll be asking of all eye witnesses, so please don’t be alarmed.’

‘I’ll try my best not to be.’

Tonks smiled briefly and then turned serious. ‘As of this morning, the Bureau has been asked to reopen the investigation into the death of Hogwarts student Julian Adams. You’re one of the named eye witnesses. I know you gave a statement at the time but you’ll be asked to give a statement in the next week or so as part of this new investigation.’

‘I see.’

‘During the investigation, we ask you do not leave the country without informing the Bureau of your location. Ideally, we ask you not to leave the country at all.’

Andromeda’s eyebrows raised themselves a fraction of a centimetre. ‘As you kindly confirmed with me, I live in Scotland. The latter might be a little difficult.’

The lips of Tonks’ otherwise still serious expression twitched ever so slightly upwards. ‘That has been noted, Ms Black, don’t worry.’

‘Thank you.’ She smiled graciously. ‘I also spend a great deal of my time at my family residence in Hertfordshire. Should you be unable to reach me in Hogsmeade, I will be most likely at Blackburne Abbey. But I am sure you have noted that already.’

‘I have.’ The light dancing in his sandy green eyes held her gaze.

‘I would expect no less from an Auror of your calibre, Superintendent Tonks.’

‘Thank you for your vote of confidence, Ms Black.’

Seconds ticked by. Neither looked away. There was a sparkling kind of energy that seemed to be keeping them there. Andromeda’s pulse was slow, her cheeks remained white, and yet her body felt warm.

Eventually, she broke their eye contact. ‘Is that all, Superintendent? I’m afraid I have some work I still need to do.’

‘Apologies, I didn’t mean to keep you so long, Ms Black.’ Tonks said, a sudden pink tinge to his tan cheeks as he rather hastily pocketed the scrap of parchment again. ‘That’s everything for now. Thank you for your time.’

‘The pleasure is all mine.’

She remained on the shop floor for a few minutes after he had left, simply looking at the door which he had left through, her thoughts silent. Then, she blinked and returned to the workroom.

A few hours later and she had Apparated into the entrance hall of Blackburne Abbey. The black and white tiled floor gleamed from the recent labour of one of the family house elves. She made her way towards the grand staircase and climbed. Though her mother was adept at Glamour Charms, one could not help but feel how threadbare the carpet had become underfoot, even if visually it retained the appearance of the intricately woven dark green carpet once laid there by their ancestors, the ancestors that now resided in aged and dirtying portraits, snoozing in their frames for lack of anything better to do.

She turned left on the landing and knocked on the first door she came across.

Her younger sister Narcissa was perched at her vanity when she entered, making various noises of frustration as she attempted to braid her hair without much success. Upon seeing Andromeda approach her in the mirror, her scowling expression melted away and she beamed at her.

10 years her elder, there was very little by way of resemblance between Andromeda and her younger sister. Narcissa’s loveliness and light features were a testament to their mother Druella Black nee Rosier, only the slightly haughty tilt to her nose and mouth whispered at her having Cygnus Black for a father.

‘Careful, Cissy. Mother told me when the wind blows your face will be stuck like that forever.’

Narcissa threw a hairbrush at her. Andromeda ducked, laughing.

‘My braid just won’t look good.’ Narcissa pouted as Andromeda stooped to pick up the hairbrush. ‘I’ve watched Blinky do it for me countless times. I thought I could manage.’

‘I’ll do it.’ Andromeda said, smiling fondly at her younger sister. ‘Where is Blinky?’

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Narcissa scowled again. ‘I snapped my fingers over an hour ago and she still hasn’t appeared. I don’t suppose you saw her with Mother?’

Andromeda shook her head and started to brush Narcissa’s dishevelled hair. ‘Goodness me, did you tie a knot in your hair?’

‘Don’t laugh!’ Narcissa cried but conceded with a sheepish smile of her own. ‘Can – can you fix it?’

‘Of course I can.’ Andromeda pulled out her wand and pointed it at the knot of hair. A second later and it had undone itself into straight silvery blonde tendrils. ‘There we go. Crisis averted.’

‘Are you staying for dinner?’

‘No – I have a prior engagement.’ Narcissa pouted as Andromeda pulled some of the hairs out of her face to begin braiding. ‘Another time, Cissy.’

‘But I’m back to Hogwarts soon. I’ll barely see you once I’m at school again.’

‘And then you’ll barely think of me.’ Andromeda teased, tugging slightly at the hairs she was braiding. ‘If I receive one letter reply to the ten or so I send, I consider myself lucky.’

‘That was one term!’ Narcissa elbowed her, laughing. ‘I was studying for my OWLs.’

Andromeda batted her elbow away and continued braiding. ‘And when Slughorn wrote to me that you had been caught out after hours several times, was that also for studying, Cissy?’

Narcissa narrowed her eyes at Andromeda in the mirror. ‘As if you didn’t sneak around at school – I’ve heard the stories Bella tells.’

‘I suppose so...’  Andromeda smirked at her younger sister. ‘But we were never caught.’

Narcissa made a noise of amused frustration and settled into her seat. For a moment, Andromeda braided in silence.

‘She was here for afternoon tea, you know. Bella, I mean. She seemed in good spirits.’

‘Oh?’ Andromeda summoned one of the black velvet ribbons on Narcissa’s vanity and secured the end of the braid.

‘Dromeda, is she really ill?’ Narcissa turned to face her fully.

Carefully, Andromeda replaced the hairbrush on the vanity. ‘It’s best that you think her ill, Cissy.’

‘You sound just like mother.’ She stood up from her chair. ‘I am of age – you can tell me the truth. Bella’s my sister too.’

It was true that Narcissa was now of age, but she was carefully kept at a distance from family politics. Andromeda and her mother had both taken much care to shield her from the undercurrents that dictated much of their lives. Of her duty to marry well, she had be educated on since birth and precisely because of the family circumstances, that was all Narcissa was privy to.

Andromeda smiled gently at Narcissa. ‘I know, Cissy. But that is mother’s decision.’

‘Fine.’ Narcissa moved over to the larger mirror on her wall to admire the braid. ‘Will you come for dinner tomorrow?’

‘Yes, I promise.’ Andromeda straightened her gloves. ‘And now I must find Father, I have something to discuss with him.’

‘Don’t keep him too long – Blinky will have dinner ready soon.’

With a farewell, Andromeda left Narcissa’s bedroom and made her way back down the grand staircase. She approached the sleek black wooden door beneath the stairs and turned the door handle. She slipped inside and as the door slammed behind her, she was plunged into total darkness.

Cold air rushed down her, as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water over her. The feeling passed and a moment later, the torches on the walls had flickered into life. She walked down the stone-walled corridor until she came to the ornately carved and painted stone door at the end. The door was engraved with a rose wreath encircled by four emerald green serpents and as she knocked, they spread out across the door, slithering into each corner and then out of sight.

The door creaked open.

‘Enter.’

She obeyed her father and slipped into his office.

Cygnus Black sat behind his desk, his face half in shadow from the light cast by the fireplace in the far corner of the room. Andromeda did not need to be able to see his whole face to know he was displeased at being disturbed from reading his paperwork.

‘Forgive me for disturbing you, Father.’ she said, curtseying low.

‘I trust this is important.’

Andromeda kept herself in her low curtsey.

‘I was visited by an Auror today – he was representing the Educational Discrimination and Malpractice Investigation Bureau.’

Her father remained silent. She sunk her curtsey as low as she could go.

‘Apparently, they’re reopening the investigation into the death of Julian Adams.’

The slam of her father’s fist on his desk nearly jumped her upright again. Very slowly, she raised her head to look at him. His expression as totally impassive but his jaw had noticeably tensed.

‘You told me,’ he began, his voice just louder than a whisper, ‘you had taken care of it.’

‘It was ruled an accident.’ She watched his movements closely as he unflexed his closed fist. ‘It’s been ten years. I don’t – I don’t know what changed.’

‘You don’t know…’ Cygnus stood up, Andromeda’s eyes followed him around the desk. ‘A daughter of the House of Black and all you have to say is that you don’t know?’

She took a slight step back as he neared her, dropping her eyes to the floor. ‘I’m sorry, Father.’

He was so close the air around her rose and fell to the pace of his breath. Her heart began to thump erratically. His hand forced her to look at him.

‘Fix this, Andromeda.’ Cygnus’s eyes flickered in the firelight. ‘And for Salazar’s sake, don’t let Bella find out about any of this.’

His grip on her throat tightened for a moment before he released his hold on her. Despite the only brief contact, her lungs struggled for air and her blood swirled frantically through her body in search of whatever oxygen remained.

Cygnus had returned to his paperwork.

‘You may go.’

Andromeda hastened to curtsey.

‘Thank you, Father.’

‘Close the door on your way out.’

She did as she was told, and by the time she was back in the entrance hall, she looked as unruffled as when she had arrived.

Chapter Text

- Chapter Two -

The Role of the Spare

Upon her return home, Andromeda set to preparing for her visitor. She brought out two wine glasses and two bottles of elf-made wine as well as a selection of cheese and crackers. The refreshments were ultimately for the benefit of her guest as she preferred not to eat when she had company. The hunger kept her alert and ensured she would not fall asleep no matter how exhausted she was.

There was a rap on her front door.

Straightening her gloves, she made her way out of her living room into the hallway. The silhouette of a tall man was visible though the panes of glass in her front door and she opened it to reveal the smirk of Rabastan Lestrange.

‘Sister.’ he crooned in greeting.

Andromeda stepped aside to allow him inside. ‘Rabastan.’

Already removing his outer robes, Rabastan walked past her into the living room. Her brother-in-law was quick to make himself at home. He poured them both large glasses of wine and set about picking at the cheese board.

‘Drink up.’ he said, holding out one of the wine glasses to her as she followed him into the room. ‘And before you ask, Bellatrix gave me the slip today.’

‘I know. Narcissa had tea with her.’ Andromeda accepted the glass. He chinked his against hers and took a large gulp. ‘You might have warned me.’

He shrugged, rounding off a second gulp of wine with a cube of cheese. ‘Maybe I’m feeling underappreciated. Overworked.’

‘Oh, Rabbie, you poor thing.’ She sat down beside him, patting his shoulder as she did so. ‘Is being the second son not everything you hoped it would be?’

‘I didn’t think I’d have to spend my days babysitting my brother’s delinquent wife.’

‘Now that’s just foolish of you.’ Andromeda smirked into her glass of wine. ‘I’ve met your grandmother. She ought to have been warning enough. And what about your Great Aunt Hilda – didn’t she–’

‘As if your Great Aunt Dorea didn’t marry a Potter.’ Rabastan interrupted, his eyes darkening as he turned to look at her.

‘I believe in some parts of the world, they refer that as love, not madness.’

Rabastan scoffed. ‘Only Mudbloods love.’

‘Dear me,’ Andromeda put down her glass and shifting closer to him. ‘And to think I always thought of you as a romantic.’

He finished his wine, moving his gaze down from her eyes, to her lips, to her neckline and back to her eyes again. His eyes were darkening by the second. Rabastan might scoff at love, but he was certainly no stranger to lust.

‘Don’t tease me, Dromeda.’

Andromeda painted her smile cat-like, holding his gaze.

‘Are you really feeling so overworked?’ she murmured, running a finger along his thigh. Rabastan inhaled sharply. ‘It must get so frustrating. The same things, day in day out.’

He broke eye contact with her to watch her hand slip between his robe to the trousers beneath.
‘You’ve no idea.’

‘Not allowed to do what you want…’ Andromeda tilted his head back up to her face as she undid his belt with the other hand. ‘No wonder you’re so on edge.’

‘Dromeda.’ he hissed as she reached what lay beneath his trousers. ‘I said don’t tease me.’

Rabastan’s hardness was testament to that statement. The strangled grunt that let him as she gave him an inaugural pump tempted a laugh from her lips. She kept her smile cat-like and her eyes locked on his, slowing the motion of her hands after her initial vigour. He growled.

‘Would you like me to relieve you, Rabbie?’

‘For – for Salazar’s sake…’

Letting go of him for a moment, she moved a little away from him so that she could lower her mouth to his erection. That last moment of brief eye contact before she took him inside of her mouth had Rabastan jerk himself up to meet the back of her throat.

She brought her hand back around him and set herself into motion.

The books she had used to borrow from Letitia Fawley at school had always marvelled the taste of men, their feel, the sound of them receiving their pleasure. These descriptions had always sounded so good on paper but in practice, Andromeda seldom found this to be the case. She took reward from knowing she was good at what she did, though there was little reward she sought or indeed received in these types of encounters.

Rabastan might complain of the role he was expected to play, but he was easy enough to placate by satiating his more carnal desires. There were other men Andromeda had taken into bed with her in the name of family business, who proved to be far less palatable partners. She could almost enjoy her encounters with Rabastan.

‘Fuck, Dromeda. I’m so close…‘

Andromeda stopped what she was doing and straightened. ‘Then, it’s a shame Bellatrix gave you the slip today.’

She got up from the sofa and moved away while Rabastan struggled to follow her, his sex at its most swollen.

‘You – you – get back here, you little –’

He caught her as she neared the door and pressed her against it. Andromeda’s heart gave a faintly irregular flutter before returning to its normal beat. Rabastan held her by the back of the head, wrestling with the skirt of her robes to reach her underwear.

‘I said don’t fucking tease me.’

Pulling her underwear down, he kneed her legs slightly further apart. His penis pushed its way inside her.

Andromeda turned her head to the side as he continued to press her against the door. Rabastan’s hand gripped the back of her head as he thrust, sending vibrations into her core.

She glanced at his stormy expression.

At some point down the years, the fear had turned into a kind of anticipating excitement. A game to see how well she could satisfy men. Rabastan was easy. His lust made him an open book. She could almost enjoy herself. Almost.

‘Harder,’ she said, her voice steady amidst the loud thumps against the door. ‘Teach me a lesson, Rabbie.’

He tangled his fingers tighter into her curls. ‘You little whore.’

The next thrust brought a contradictory whimper from his lips. He was close to his climax. Andromeda braced herself for his finale.

‘You fucking,’ he managed in her ear before his last thrust had him collapse against her, ‘whore…’

He remained slumped against her for another moment, breathing heavily. Then he pulled himself out of her and she felt the familiar but unpleasant trickle of semen running down her legs.

‘Did that make you feel more appreciated?’ Andromeda asked, taking out her wand to vanish the semen.

Rabastan turned her around to face him, smirking. ‘A little.’

‘Well, I suppose that’s something.’ She lifted her robes slightly and vanished the mess. Looking back up at him, she found he was still watching her. ‘What is it?’

He pressed his lips to hers, murmuring against them, ‘I like you marked like you're mine.’

‘I’m not yours, brother.’

Rabastan smirked wider, leaning his weight on her. She could feel part of him stirring again. He moved his lips from her mouth and trailed down to her neck. He shifted the shoulder of her robes to reveal her bare shoulder. Choosing his spot, he bared his teeth and bit down on a spot just above her collarbone.

‘Suit yourself.’ he said, kissing the slowly purpling mark he had left.

‘I had an Auror visit me today.’ Andromeda said as he moved his lips along her shoulder, searching for a new target. ‘From the Educational Discrimination and Malpractice Investigation Bureau.’

‘I do love it when Mudbloods try and make themselves important.’ Rabastan tittered before taking another bite. ‘What were they in a tizzy about this time?’

‘They’re reopening the investigation into Julian Adams.’

That brought Rabastan back to her eye-level.

‘So, I trust you will remind the others to remember their story.’ Andromeda continued, watching Rabastan scowl. ‘They’ll likely be called in to make a statement.’

‘What about Bellatrix?’ Rabastan asked slowly, stepping back from her.

‘She mustn’t find out about any of this.’

‘Easier said than done.’ He was pacing slightly now. ‘They’ll want to interview her.’

‘Bellatrix can’t be interviewed without the approval of her Healer and her Healer won’t approve such an interview. Not without a warrant anyway.’

‘Suppose they get a warrant?’

‘And on what grounds? Attending a Quidditch match with the rest of her House?’ Andromeda raised her eyebrow as he continued to pace. ‘I didn’t leave anything for them to find.’

‘Well, they bloody well found something!’ Rabastan shouted at her. ‘Why else would those Mudbloods dare start sniffing about?’

Andromeda folded her arms. ‘If everyone sticks to the correct version of events, they won’t get any further than they did last time.’

‘If they do.’ Rabastan scoffed. ‘You think we can all remember our statements word for word. It’s been 10 years, for Salazar’s sake. Someone is bound to slip up.’

‘Well, if I were any of you, I’d try my very best to remember it word for word.’ Andromeda said coldly. ‘I didn’t kill anyone. I only cleaned up the mess.’

She moved away from the door so that she could open it. The light from the hallway streamed in, interrupting Rabastan’s pacing.

‘Is this me being dismissed?’ he said irritably. ‘Fine – I’ll alert the others.’

‘How kind of you.’

He strode past her and opened the front door. ‘It’s been a pleasure, dear sister.’

‘Until next time.’

Rabastan Disapparated from her doorstep and she closed the front door behind him. A small sigh escaped her lips and she leaned against the door, sinking down it until she was sat on the cold tiled floor.

Daughters of the House of Black did not cry and so she did not. Andromeda leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Her heart, normally so obediently calm, thumped faster and faster. The thoughts in her head were deafeningly loud but indistinct. They shouted over one another, attempting to make themselves heard.

‘They know, Meda.’

Lettie’s voice was as loud and clear to her as if she had been sat right next to her. She could almost see her, her blue eyes looking up over her latest raunchy novel at her, ready to read some laughably obscure sexual encounter out loud.

‘No, they don’t. Not this.’ Andromeda said, addressing her hallway. ‘And I promise you, no one will ever find out.’

Chapter Text

- Chapter Three -

The Correct Version of Events

The Ministry lift pinged open, revealing the second floor. Adjusting her gloves, Andromeda stepped out of the lift and made her way along the darkly tiled corridor to the Auror Department. She opened the door to a room bustling with activity. Approaching a nearby desk, she tapped on the shoulder of the Auror sat there.

‘Excuse me, I am looking for Office 9b.’

The Auror grunted and pointed to her right at a large wooden door.

‘Thank you.’

She headed towards it and once through it, entered into a long corridor with office doors all along it. Eventually, she reached 9b and knocked.

‘Afternoon, Ms Black.’ Tonks greeted jovially, opening the door. ‘Come in. Sorry for the short notice. They pushed forward interviews.’

He gestured she enter and she smiled perfectly, brushing lightly against him as she passed. The scent of mahogany and cinnamon tickled her nose.
‘No matter. Mr Ollivander is always very accommodating.’

‘Did you manage to find the office okay?’ Tonks asked, following her inside. ‘I always say they should signpost it.’

‘Your colleague was most helpful.’

‘Who was it?’

‘As he only communicated in grunts, it was difficult to ascertain his name.’

‘Sounds like Scrimgeour.’ Tonks said, laughing. ‘He’s rude to everyone so don’t take it personally.’

‘In that case, he should choose a desk further away from the door.’

Tonks grinned. ‘I’ll be sure to tell him that. Anyway, have a seat, Ms Black.’

Andromeda obliged, seating herself on the wooden chair on the nearer side of the desk. She waited patiently as Tonks moved around the desk to sit behind it. He pulled various pieces of parchment towards himself and then a thin metal-looking object, which he unscrewed to reveal a quill like nib.

‘It’s a fountain pen.’ Tonks supplied, noting her curious expression before she managed to disguise it. ‘Like a quill but it stores its own ink.’

‘I see.’ Her curiosity discovered, Andromeda leaned forwards to look at it better. ‘I must confess don’t know a Charm that replenishes ink constantly.’

She straightened hastily as he chuckled far too warmly.

‘It’s made by Muggles.’ Tonks unscrewed the bottom half of the fountain pen to reveal a small vial of ink inside. ‘No charms involved. Just an ink cartridge.’

‘I imagine that must be quite practical.’

‘You’ve no idea.’ He replaced the bottom half and turned to a plain piece of parchment. ‘Why wizards insist on using quills is beyond me.’

She watched him write her name across the top of the parchment and tried to refrain from noticing his fine handwriting. The summons for her interview had been in print, which had suited her image of Tonks far better. To see him write in a script so fluid implied him to be more accomplished than she wanted him to be.

‘So, Ms Black, I’ve got the statement you gave at the time, but I’d like you to give me a run down of what you remember of Julian Adams’ death first. Then I’ll ask you some questions.’

He smiled gently, expectantly.

‘We were playing Ravenclaw for the final match of the Quidditch season. I was a Chaser and the Slytherin captain. We were winning, but only just. I had just thrown the Quaffle to another Chaser – Priscilla Clearwater, I believe – when I heard screams from the crowd.’

Bellatrix was screaming at her. The rain was so thick it felt like it was hitting her. Her shoulder ached from the weight pushing her downwards. She slipped.

‘I did not even know his name until afterwards.’ she said quietly, readjusting her gloves so that the embroidery was perfectly straight. ‘I turned to see him falling. They said a rogue Bludger had hit his skull. They said the impact would have killed him, that he was dead as he fell.’

‘Several statements I read through recall your playing as being clumsy that day.’ Tonks said, rifling through his pieces of parchment. ‘Would you agree?’

‘I was nervous.’ Andromeda replied, looking at Tonks.

‘The captain of the Slytherin team was nervous?’

‘I was nervous.’ she repeated. ‘Captains are capable of a range of emotions like any other Quidditch player.’

Tonks’ lips twitched as he made note. ‘Can you remember why you might’ve been nervous?’

‘It was my first year captaining the Slytherin team and we were in the final.’ Andromeda said, smiling politely. ‘Two of my team were also reserve players. Our chances of winning were significantly reduced.’

‘There were a number of reserves playing that match. A bit unusual for a final. Can you remember why you’d had to sub in your reserves?’

Andromeda tilted her head, warming her polite smile a little. ‘There had been a party the night before. Blatherwick and Harper – er, that is William Blatherwick and Clementine Harper – were unfit to play the next day. I believe some of the Ravenclaw team were in attendance. Perhaps they faired the same fate.’

‘The night before the final? At a Slytherin party?’

‘It was Litha.’ she said, watching Tonks take note. ‘One can hardly ask the sun to wait for the Quidditch final before commencing the summer solstice.’

‘But why were members of the Ravenclaw team there?’

‘It was not a party exclusively for Slytherins.’ Now Andromeda looked away from Tonks. ‘It was for students of a certain heritage.’

‘Purebloods?’

‘Certain purebloods.’ Andromeda amended, keeping her gaze on her gloved hands. ‘From… politically aligning families.’

He nodded curtly, making note. ‘Can you remember who from the Ravenclaw team was at the party?’

She paused for a moment. ‘I think it was both of the Ravenclaw Beaters – Daniel Aubrey and Christopher Parkinson – and their Seeker, Elodie – no, forgive me, Eloise Travers. Oh, yes, and their reserve Beater Elias Rowle. He actually played in the match with Parkinson, if I recall.’

‘What can you tell me about Elias Rowle?’

He was laughing, his arm slung around a fourth year’s shoulder, his hand lazily groping at the girl’s breasts.
‘Really I should be thanking you for this, Andromeda. You gave me a taste for scared little virgins.’

‘He is a distant relation on my Mother’s side.’ Andromeda said, keeping her expression politely neutral. ‘He ran off with the Rowle family jewels, it was quite the scandal – only a few days after… after the match.’

‘Do you remember any particulars about when he disappeared?’

Andromeda allowed herself an amused smile. ‘He was known to be quite – to be quite the womaniser amongst my peers. A popular theory was that had he run away to escape the angry fathers of the girls he had jilted. As well as the girls themselves, of course.’

‘Yes, your sister’s statement mentions you argued with him at the party.’ Tonks said casually but he was watching her closely. ‘What did you argue about?’

A genuine frown nearly escaped Andromeda.

The broom cupboard was dark. She was surprisingly aware of her body.
‘You gave me a taste for scared little virgins.’

‘An argument might be a generous description.’ She coaxed her amused expression back across her face. ‘He’d had a run in with another Ravenclaw before the party – with a Muggle-born student in his dormitory. He spent the whole evening talking about it. It was quite a dampener to the party mood.’

‘So, what happened?’

‘Well, I say run-in quite literally. From what I gathered, the boy had accidentally brushed against him.’ She sighed. ‘He had managed to trap a poor girl into listening to him, she looked so bored of it, and I was losing my patience by then. I told him to move on from this menial offence and he did not take kindly to it.’

Tonks finished writing his sentence and contemplated what he had written before saying, ‘Your sister called it a ‘lovers tiff,’ I believe. She said you were angry he was speaking to another girl.’

A laugh bubbled out of her. ‘If by lovers, you mean I once performed fellatio on him to get my sister out of detention, then yes, it was a lovers tiff.’

The evident shock in Tonks’ expression nearly made her laugh again. His cheeks even tinged a little pink. Her comment had thrown him as much as she had expected.

‘Was that too crass for you, Superintendent?’ she asked, leaning back in her chair to smile at him. ‘My apologies.’

He raised his eyes to look at her defiantly. The air crackled between their gazes. The nervous swallow he did before speaking, slightly undermined the effect. She tried not to show her amusement. ‘So, were you angry at him for speaking with another girl?’

‘No, I can’t say that I was.’

Tonks made note. ‘And then finally, Ms Black, what can you tell me about Letitia Fawley?’

Andromeda could not stop herself bristling at Tonks’ question.

‘She was my dearest friend in the world and she took her own life to save herself from having to marry Rabastan Lestrange.’ Andromeda said, her voice cold. ‘I’ll thank you not to taint her memory by pulling her into this investigation.’

‘My apologies, Ms Black. I have to cover all bases.’ She had to concede, Tonks did look apologetic. ‘Two deaths and one disappearance so close together, questions get raised. There’s only a record of her death, no cause of death included.’

‘It was a derivative of the Draught of Living Death.’ Emotion threatened to escape her. ‘They say it is simply as if one falls asleep. They say it is painless.’

‘I’m – I’m sorry for your loss.’

‘Lettie was born clever and destined to be free.’ Andromeda fought to keep her voice steady. She looked defiantly at Tonks. ‘She freed herself before she was caged for the rest of her life.’

There was a pause.

‘Thank you, Ms Black. I think that concludes this interview.’ Tonks rose from his seat. ‘If you head through to my desk in the main Auror office, I’ll be with you in about ten minutes with your statement. It’s on the third row from the entrance, right next to the wall.’

Andromeda stood silently and left.

Tonks’ desk was a cacophony of odd bits of parchment and newspaper cuttings, all gathered in a crescent shape around the space cleared in the middle, which had a singular fountain pen lying in it. A half-eaten bowl of cereal sat precariously one of the taller stacks of parchment and Andromeda eyed it wearily from the swivel chair while she waited for Tonks to be finished writing up her statement.

‘Sorry that took so long.’ Tonks apologised, reaching the desk. ‘Here, have a read through.’

She silently accepted the parchment he held out and read carefully. He had remembered her words well but had removed any sentiment, only regurgitating the facts. She noticed he had also removed some of the comments around her ‘lovers tiff’ with Elias Rowle.

‘This looks in order.’

‘Great.’ He gestured to the fountain pen on the desk. ‘If you just sign your name underneath.’

Andromeda unscrewed the fountain pen as she had seen Tonks do in office 9b to reveal the nib and wrote her signature with a flourish. The Muggle way of writing was surprisingly comfortable.

‘I can get you some if you like.’ Tonks said with a grin as he took the signed parchment from her.

She shook her head. ‘I have enough quills, but thank you.’

‘Fine, continue with your life of inconvenience.’ he said, chuckling and accepting the fountain pen back. ‘Cheers.’

‘Oh and, Superintendent,’ she began, as she stood up from his desk chair. ‘I also wanted to apologise for being so emotional towards some of your questions. I fear I betrayed more feeling than I normally care to show.’

Tonks regarded her with an expression no one had ever fixed her with before. The softness of his smile, the slight crease of his brows, they contradicted one another. She did not know what to make of it.

‘Well, if that’s everything, Superintendent…’

He blinked and his expression was back to a more readable, professional smile. ‘Yes, that’s everything. Thank you, Ms Black. We’ll be in touch if there’s any follow-up questions.’

Chapter Text

- Chapter Four -

The Many Seats at the Table

Dinner with her family was always the same. The house elves served them in the large dining hall in silence, disappearing between courses. Her mother gossiped. Narcissa chattered on. In the days where Bellatrix had also dined with them, she might have turned the conversation to politics, which was perhaps more interesting but tended to leave her heated and volatile. Cygnus rarely said a word, not until dessert was served did he ever consider joining their conversation.

Tonight the wedding between Rowland Nott and his scandalously foreign fiancé Gertrude von Drossel was up for discussion. Andromeda watched the discussion with amusement.

‘Walburga tells me she’s quite German.’ Druella Black was saying as they finished the last of their main course. The house elves had served a triumph of beef wellington, new potatoes and green beans.  ‘A very strong accent, apparently.’

‘No doubt we are to expect those ghastly sausages at the meal.’ Narcissa chimed in, wrinkling her nose. ‘Could I wear my new robes? I know they are quite pale – but blue is not white.’

Druella gasped. ‘I told you not to buy them. The colour does absolutely nothing for you, my dear. Nothing. I have half a mind to transfigure them green myself.’

‘But mother,’ Narcissa pouted, ‘I always wear green. Pale blue is so much more grown up.’

The house elves began to clear the table. Andromeda noted Blinky was not among them.

‘I have blessed you with a pale complexion, Cissy.’ Druella patted her youngest daughter’s arm. ‘A pale garment will render you completely colourless. I should not like the other guests to think you ill.’

Narcissa slumped in her chair. ‘Dromeda! Tell mother I suit my new robes.’

‘Of course, you do, Cissy.’ Andromeda reassured her younger sister. ‘Mother, do not forget, you also blessed Cissy with your immaculate taste in fashion. I trust her judgment in these things implicitly.’

Their mother let out a noise of defeat. Narcissa sent a sideways smile at Andromeda.

Dessert appeared before them.

‘I do hope there’s dancing.’ Narcissa said, lifting a spoonful of pavlova to her lips. ‘I suppose the Germans also dance.’

‘You know I’ve heard in some parts they more slap themselves than dance.’ Druella mused.

‘They slap themselves?’ Narcissa looked shocked. ‘How uncivilised.’

Andromeda’s lips twitched upwards as she ate her pavlova. ‘Quite.’

‘Well, I shall make Bella dance with me and she can protect me from any slapping.’

Cygnus rather loudly placed his goblet down on the table. Druella flinched in her chair. Andromeda looked between her two parents.

‘Bella may not be… well enough to attend.’ Druella said slowly, glancing at her husband. ‘She was out of sorts on her last visit.’

He did not look at her. He was directing his gaze at his middle child.

‘Bellatrix will be in attendance.’ Cygnus said, his voice almost too quiet for the large dining hall.

Andromeda bowed her head. ‘Yes, Father.’

‘I thought Bella seemed in good spirits when she was here for tea.’ Narcissa piped up. ‘And dancing is always such a good medicine for melancholy.’

‘Quite, Cissy.’ Andromeda agreed, watching her father’s jaw twitch. ‘You’ll have to tell me all about the dancing.’

‘Will – will you not be in attendance?’ Narcissa deflated, looking from Andromeda to her mother. ‘The invitation was for the whole family. Won’t our hosts be offended if –’

‘Cissy, you know how your sister despises parties.’ Druella interrupted, patting Narcissa’s hand tenderly. ‘And Mr Ollivander really cannot spare her so close to the Hogwarts start of term.’

‘Dromeda –’

‘I promise I will come to tea the very next day, and you can tell me everything.’

There was the sound of Cygnus scraping his chair back to stand and Narcissa quickly closed her mouth, rather than say anything further.

‘Andromeda, I have something to discuss with you.’ he said, and she hastened to follow him.

Druella and Narcissa also got to their feet.

‘Cissy, you must show me your new robes before I leave.’ Andromeda said as she and her father reached the door into the entrance hall.

Bidding them both farewell, Andromeda followed her father to his study in silence. The cold whoosh of air over her as they entered the corridor beneath the staircase was a needless reminder to remain alert.

‘Close the door behind you.’ Cygnus instructed, settling himself behind his desk.

Andromeda obliged him.

One of the house elves had seen to the fire before their arrival. The flames were crackling at their most energetic, casting a rather frequently bouncing light about the room. The bookshelves bounced in and out of darkness.

‘I trust Bellatrix will be in attendance at the Nott wedding.’ he said, his eyes flickering with the firelight.

But she knew this was not the purpose of his calling her to his office, so she only bowed her head in ascent, keeping silent.

‘Good.’ He opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a scroll of parchment. Holding it out to her, he said, ‘I have found a solution to your mess.’

Andromeda hastened to take the scroll from him. Opening it, she found a list of the Hogwarts school governors.

‘Father?’

‘Your uncle losing his place on the board of governors has led to political instability amongst the governors.’ Cygnus elaborated as Andromeda read through the names on the list. ‘Amidst this instability, the governors voted to enlist the Bureau on a few different cases.’

It did not inspire familial affection in Andromeda to know her own uncle was in part responsible for her current situation. Orion Black had been recently exposed in a damning issue of The Daily Prophet for his illegal Muggle-baiting activities. The evidence had unfortunately been easily verifiable and he had been dismissed from the board of school governors in disgrace.

The mix of surnames on the school governor list were by no means unexpected family names. They were all surnames from well-established pureblood wizarding families, but some were certainly purer than others. With Orion Black still listed, the families of the Sacred Twenty Eight had represented a majority. The Prewetts and Shacklebolts were notoriously in favour of anything her family would class as ‘blood-traitorous behaviour’ but there were some pureblood surnames on the list that had no particular political leaning, surnames susceptible to the highest bidder or indeed biggest bully.

‘Then, what do you suggest, Father?’ she asked, coming to the end of the list.

‘We need to regain the protection of the governors.’ Cygnus said, holding his hand out for the scroll again. ‘Narcissa will marry Abraxas Malfoy.’

Andromeda’s hand froze mid-passing the scroll back to him.

Her blood pumped loudly in her ears. The world seemed to stand still. Her father had to have misspoken. He could not marry her little sister to a man four times her age. He would not do it. Not sweet, lovely Narcissa.

She waited for Cygnus to correct himself.

He did not.

‘But she’s a child.’ Andromeda whispered.

‘The Malfoys have no interest in protecting anyone but their own kin. With Narcissa married into the family, Malfoy will ensure the Bureau lose any interest they have in the Black family.’

The ground was falling from beneath her feet. Andromeda struggled to keep her breathing even. Her heart was beating frantically. Her lungs felt like they were shrinking with each breath she took.

‘Narcissa’s dowery is too pitiful for Malfoy to consider her for his son.’ Cygnus took the scroll back from Andromeda’s still outstretched hand. ‘But widowers also want for the company of a woman. He will want to marry her quickly.’

‘She’s a child.’ Andromeda whispered again. ‘Please, Father.’

‘I have already begun negotiations. Malfoy will want to see you before he makes his final decision.’ Cygnus slammed the scroll back into his desk drawer. ‘I trust you will be persuasive enough to have him settle for less than Narcissa’s current dowery.’

‘Couldn’t I – must it be Cissy – Father, please…’

‘No one wants damaged goods, Andromeda.’ her father said coldly. ‘You should know that well enough by now.’

Andromeda brought her outstretched arm back to herself. ‘I’ll – I’ll find another way.’

‘You will do as I say.’ His increase in volume ricocheted off of the walls, thundering into her eardrums. She took an involuntary step back. ‘Need I remind you who is head of this household?’

She bowed her head. ‘No, Father.’

‘Good.’ Cygnus reached for some of the other papers on his desk. ‘You are dismissed.’

‘Thank you, Father.’ She curtsied low.

As she stepped out into the corridor, her father called after her, ‘And you can tell Narcissa the news once Malfoy has agreed.’

‘… Yes, Father.’

The door slammed shut behind her.

When she reemerged into the entrance hall, her appearance had restored itself to its normal composure. Her heart remained erratic. She strode towards the front door. She had to get home. She had to think. She had to fix this. This was all her fault. She couldn’t – she wouldn’t –

‘Dromeda?’ Narcissa’s soft voice called down from the top of the staircase. ‘Aren’t you coming to look at my new robes?’

Andromeda closed her eyes for a long few seconds, quelling the tears that had pricked at her eyes before she turned back around to face her sister. Her sweet, lovely little sister.

‘Yes – yes, of course.’ She painted a bright smile across her face. ‘I’ll be up in a minute. I just wanted a breath of fresh air.’

‘Well, don’t be too long. Mother’s still threatening to turn them green.’

The laugh that came out of Andromeda’s mouth seemed to be coming from a great distance away.

‘I won’t be long, I promise.’

Chapter Text

- Chapter Five -

Under the Light of a Streetlamp

She drank straight from the wine bottle as she paced about her living room. With every gulp, another layer of numbness seemed to cocoon her whirring mind.

Andromeda had taken great care those ten years ago to conceal the truth of that Quidditch match and the days thereafter. Lies woven within lies woven within the truth. But she did not know which threads had been cut, what the governors or indeed the Bureau had discovered to suggest anything other than the once accepted version of events.

That Narcissa would have to pay the price in all of this, she could not allow it.

She knew what a man like Abraxas Malfoy would do to her sister. She had been in bed with many of his kind before.

‘You gave me a taste for scared little virgins.’

Suddenly, her living room felt too constricting. She slugged down the last of her wine and Summoned another bottle to keep her company in the fresh air.

The alcohol had taken enough of a hold on her that she was forced to hold onto the railing of her front step to lower herself onto it. Her gloved hands made opening a wine bottle a little difficult so she used her wand to uncork the bottle, first managing to direct her spell at the gravel on the street before her desired target. Leaning back against the step above, she stared out across the street.

Andromeda did not know how late it was. All she knew was that she had been drinking since she returned home. And yet somehow her worries continued to have an iron fist around her heart. The little street just off Hogsmeade’s high street was empty but she could hear drunken singing drifting over on the wind from The Three Broomsticks. It always seemed strange to her how merry people were after drinking. Alcohol only ever seemed to bring out the melancholy she spent most of her time concealing.

‘Evening, Ms Black.’

She nearly dropped her wine in shock, struggling to focus on the slightly dimly lit man in front of her. ‘Superintendent Tonks! How – how nice to see you.’

‘At ease, soldier.’ he said, grinning easily. ‘I’m off duty, just Tonks is fine.’

Andromeda did a mock salute and drank another gulp of wine.

‘You drunk, Ms Black?’

‘Not nearly drunk enough.’

She didn’t think she could ever be.

‘Mind if I sit?’ he asked, gesturing at the space on the step next to her.

‘Be my guest.’

The step was not particularly wide so his broad shoulders brushed hers as he sat down, giving Andromeda a good waft of his cologne. Warm notes of cinnamon and mahogany filled her nostrils.

She held out her bottle to him. ‘Would you like some?’

‘I’d love some.’ Tonks accepted the bottle gratefully and took a healthy swig. The nearby streetlamp illuminated how his lips drank from where hers had been a few seconds prior. ‘Hm, that’s nice stuff. You’ve got good taste, Ms Black.’

‘100 years of fermented slave labour so that I can get pissed as a newt on my front step.’ She leant back, propping herself on her elbows and closing her eyes. ‘Such is the modern world.’

‘Do you mean elf labour? It’s elf-made, isn’t it?’

The wine-fuelled snort that escaped would have deeply shamed her mother. ‘I assume you’ve never met a house elf.’

‘Er, no… Not really a thing in Muggle houses.’

She felt him stiffen slightly beside her.

‘My apologies, Tonks – I didn’t mean to insult you.’ Andromeda opened her eyes again to look at him. His side profile was handsomely outlined in the light of the streetlamp. ‘I merely meant, if you had met a house elf, you would not be so deluded as to think they were working under their own free will.’

She watched him take another sip of wine. He ran his free hand through his hair before fumbling about in his pocket.

‘God,’ he said, shaking his head slightly. ‘You’re nothing like I remember from school.’

‘How so?’

He did not immediately answer, placing the wine bottle between his legs on the step beneath them and pulling out a pipe from his pocket. He reached into his other pocket and produced a small tin, which he opened and put some of its contents into the larger end of the pipe.

‘Well, granted we weren’t in the same year, but I always remember seeing you around your sister’s lot. I thought you were the same. I thought you’d be the same.’

As he put the tin back in his pocket, he put the pipe to his lips and fumbled about again for a moment in his other pocket.

Andromeda leant forwards and lit the contents of his pipe with her wand. His eyes widened in surprise as he looked at her. Their faces could not have been more than a few inches apart. She thought his eyes flicked briefly to her lips, or perhaps she was merely projecting her own actions.

Tonks coughing on the smoke from his pipe broke them apart.

‘Any fool can see for themselves that a house elf is enslaved.’ Andromeda said, thumping him on the back. ‘Whether that observation brings them to care, that is a different question entirely.’

‘Thanks.’ Tonks said once his coughing subsided. He took an intentional puff off his pipe. ‘So – do you care?’

Andromeda reached between his legs for the wine bottle. Had she been sober, she might not have brushed so much against his inner thighs as she did but she enjoyed watching the affect it had in his change of expression.

She kept her gaze on him as she took a sip of wine. ‘I’ll leave that up to you to decide.’

Tonks said nothing, watching her swallow her mouthful of wine and taking another puff on his pipe.

‘What brings you to Hogsmeade?’ she asked, proffering the wine bottle to him again. ‘I believe most visitors prefer walking around at more sociable hours.’

He laughed, taking the bottle from her.

‘We're working up at the Castle for a few days, so come of the Aurors and me rented rooms at The Three Broomsticks.’

‘Are you working right now?’

Tonks grinned, nudging her with his knee. ‘Thinking of reporting me, Ms Black? I told you – I’m off duty.’

‘Perhaps.’ She smiled as he laughed again. ‘I believe they call that being a conscientious citizen.’

‘It was a bit of a shit day, to be honest.’ he said, sobering slightly. ‘So I thought I’d try clear my head with some fresh air.’

‘Elf-made wine is known to have some head clearing effects.’

‘And I believe they call that getting shitfaced.’

Andromeda covered her mouth with a gloved hand as she laughed. ‘Then, you must drink some more, Tonks. I think you are far too sober.’

She reached out and lifted the bottle in his hand to his lips. Balancing his pipe on the top step, he placed his other hand on hers to help her guide the bottle upwards.

‘You’re a bad influence, Ms Black.’ he said, bringing the bottle back down after he had had his fill. ‘As a conscientious citizen myself, I feel morally bound to do something.’

‘Are you going to arrest me, Superintendent?’ Andromeda asked, smirking.

‘I told you, I’m off duty.’

‘That is a shame,’ Andromeda smirked wider, her eyes locked on his, ‘for I do so love being tied up.’

He swallowed. If it were not so dark, she was certain she would have been able to see a notable blush creeping into those tan cheeks of his. He was rather easy to tease.

Tonks looked down at his lap, where his hand still rested over Andromeda’s. He fiddled absently with the hem of her black glove, smoothing his thumb over the embroidered leaves. She watched silently.

But as he went to remove it, she snatched her hand back. Had she been sober, she might not have reacted so honestly.  ‘Don’t touch it!’

‘Shit, sorry – I should’ve asked.’

He looked so genuinely upset that Andromeda regretted her outburst.

‘No, no – it’s – my hands are heavily scarred, I don’t like people seeing them.’ She rested her gloved hands on his, trying to smile reassuringly. ‘Please, don’t apologise.’

‘What happened?’

‘A potions accident about 10 years ago.’ Andromeda looked away. ‘The burn marks – the scarring – it can’t be healed.’

‘Scars are cool.’ Tonks said, lifting one of his hands out from under hers to point at his cheek. It was too dark for her to really see what he was point at but she humoured him nonetheless. ‘See this one, looks cool as fuck, but it’s from the stupidest thing ever.’

‘I highly doubt that.’

‘Oh, yeah?’ Tonks grinned at her. ‘It’s from a Bat-Bogey Hex.’

‘That’s hardly a stupid cause.’

‘It was from my Commanding Auror. It was his birthday and we thought we’d surprise him.’ Andromeda tilted her head questioningly. ‘So, we all jump out and shout “happy birthday” and he Stuns about five Aurors and jinxes the rest.’

She laughed. ‘You’re not serious.’

‘I’m deadly serious. Before I knew it, I had bats flying out my nose and he’s shouting “constant vigilance” at us.’ Tonks chuckled to himself, shaking his head. ‘No heroic story for the scar on my face, no, just a Bat-Bogey Hex from my mad boss.’

‘No one said you had tell the truth, Tonks.’ she teased. ‘You could have wooed me with tales of fighting a rogue Chimera and I would have been none the wiser.’

‘Who said anything about me wooing you?’ He shoved her playfully. ‘You’re the one who’s been plying me with wine. Why didn’t you try woo me with a tall tale?’

‘You’ve been drinking that wine quite of your own volition.’ Andromeda elbowed him back. ‘I only offered you one sip, you took it upon yourself to drink most of it.’

‘I was thirsty.’ he pouted and, to labour his point, finished off the last of the wine.

‘I can see that.’

The streetlamp flickered slightly as they looked at one another. He was running his thumb along the embroidered hem of her glove again, this time even gentler than before. She could not decide if she found this soothing or unnerving. It was strangely intimate. There was a warmth to it that was unfamiliar to her.

Andromeda considered inviting him inside for another drink. She never normally spoke to men for this long before they wished to bed her. Tonks would likely lose patience soon and it would be best to keep him on side, since he was one of the Aurors investigating Julian Adams’ death. She could use an ally in this.

But he spoke first before she could invite him in.
‘Would you like to go for lunch sometime?’

Men did not ask Andromeda to lunch. Men told her what time she was to be expected. Men had her however they wanted.

She searched for the correct words.

‘Sorry, sorry,’ Tonks had let go of her hands. He was suddenly so nervous. ‘Sorry, did I misread? You can say no – we can forget I ever said anything.’

‘Tonks,’ she said, finding his hands in the dark. ‘Just Tonks – I would like that. To go to lunch with you.’

‘Are you sure?’ She almost smiled at how uncertain he was. ‘Because you can say no.’

‘I am sure.’

‘Great.’ He was grinning, confidence coming back into his face. ‘Super. Fantastic.’

‘Excellent?’ Andromeda suggested.

Tonks leant his forehead slightly clumsily against hers. ‘Wonderful.’

She wondered if he was about to kiss her. Looking into his eyes, she suspected with him she might enjoy it.

He pulled away and stood up, still holding onto her hand. She mirrored him. Perhaps he preferred to kiss her standing. It would be easier to manoeuvre her against the front door that way. It would be easier for him to have his way with her if there was something to hold her against.

‘I’ll owl you tomorrow.’ Tonks said, squeezing her hand. ‘There’s a café I think you’d like, not far from Piccadilly Circus. We’ll work out a day for when I’m back working in London.’

‘I look forward to your owl.’

He smiled. ‘Goodnight, Ms Black.’

‘Goodnight, just Tonks.’

With a small wave, he left, turning around at the end of the street to wave again. Andromeda stood still, the cool night air a balm against her suddenly hot cheeks.

‘I told you Muggle-born boys do it better.’ Lettie said, looking up from her book – The Sorcerer who Seduced Me – to wiggle her eyebrows at her across the girl’s dormitory.

‘Hush, you.’ Andromeda said to the flickering streetlamp.

She looked out at the empty street for another moment. Then she shook herself and retreated back inside her house.

Chapter Text

- Chapter Six -

The Effect of Daylight

She woke to a horribly pounding head.

Andromeda had not stopped drinking once Tonks had left. Confronted by the reality of what had transpired between them, another problem to add to her mounting list, she had hastened to find more wine to quell the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. She could not decide what was worse. That she had fallen so low that she needed to seduce a Muggle-born. Or that she had voluntarily flirted with him long before it had occurred to her that the alliance would be useful.

A Mudblood.

A Muggle-born, who had tried to make her feel better about her scars. Who had said she was different from her family. Who had invited her to lunch.

But he hadn’t even kissed her.

Perhaps then, he did not like her at all. Perhaps it had been a gesture of pity.

The great daughter of the House of Black, discovered intoxicated on her doorstep. Practically throwing herself at him. A pathetic sight indeed.

Fumbling about in the dark for her wand, Andromeda muttered a Spell under her breath and opened the door at the edge of her bed to reveal her kitchen. Though the house came with two bedrooms upstairs, Andromeda had magically enlarged the airing cupboard in her kitchen to house her bed instead. She preferred to sleep in a contained space. The airing cupboard was like a cocoon, shutting out the outside world and secured with an enchanted lock of her own devising.

She set the kettle boiling on her hob, tapping her wand to kindle the flames into existence. Her Uncle Alphard had installed the kitchen for her upon her moving in. He was quite unlike the rest of her family, a self-made man, a successful businessman, owning and running a company that converted modern Muggle appliances to be compatible with magic. It was hardly an acceptable occupation for a member of the Black family, but Alphard was unfathomably rich and money was not something her family could afford to turn their nose at.

While the water boiled, she pulled a jar of herbs towards her as well as a teacup and tea strainer. Per her mother’s instructions, she had drunk this tea every morning since her first period had started aged 12. She recalled her excitement at being served her first cup, having envied Bellatrix for the best part of a year for being able to join in on a ritual of their mother’s without her.

‘Only men have unplanned pregnancies.’ Druella had said to her as Andromeda gagged on the horrifically bitter taste. Bellatrix had snickered beside her.

She wondered now if her mother had known just how soon her middle child would need its contraceptive effects.

The whistling kettle saved her from her thoughts.

Pouring the boiling water through the tea-strainer into her cup, she let the herbs soak for a few minutes. Over the years, her palate had grown used to the bitter taste and she enjoyed the repetitiveness, the one thing in her day that was always predictably the same.

Waiting for the tea to cool to a drinkable temperature, Andromeda washed and dressed in the small bathroom just off of the kitchen. By the time she had enchanted her eyelashes to curl upwards and coaxed a deep red colour across her lips with a wandless spell her mother had once taught her, the tea was ready to drink.

She downed it in one, wincing slightly.

Then, she Summoned her outer robes and headed outside. The effects of the alcohol in her bloodstream would still be too much to Apparate safely and she had disconnected her house from the Floo Network since moving in. So, she stepped out into the fresh morning air to make her way to The Three Broomsticks and make use of its fireplace.

Tonks’ pipe still lay on her front step.

Stooping down to pick it up, Andromeda rotated it in her gloved hands, reading the inscription along the side.

So one day I’ll be Tonks the 1^st
Love,
Tonks the 2^nd

With a slight smile and a subsequent tickle of nerves, she pocketed the pipe. If he was staying in The Three Broomsticks, she could leave it with Rosmerta to return to him. And pray Rosmerta wouldn’t question her having it and relay this exciting gossip to her patrons.

Setting off down the street, Andromeda took several deep breaths, trying to slow the freshly erratic beats of her heart. By the time she reached the entrance to The Three Broomsticks, nausea was building.

Breakfast was already well underway when she entered, so the young barmaid was rushed off her feet taking and bringing over orders. The warm air, heavily scented with fried bacon, hit Andromeda and it was a wonder she did not throw up right there on the doorstep. Her stomach churned at the amount of hungrily eating patrons.

‘You’re looking very peaky, my love.’ Rosmerta said by way of greeting as she passed Andromeda, her own cheeks flushed with adrenalin, arms weighed down by plates. ‘So, that’s one full English, the porridge and honey and a bacon bap for the little one.’

She deposited the plates on the table of the expectant family and turned fully to Andromeda.

‘Have a seat, I’ll get you something to eat.’

‘That’s very kind, but you seem to have your hands full enough already.’

Rosmerta lowered her voice and nodded over at a large table by the fireplace. ‘It’s those bloody Aurors. Stomachs the size of dragons, the lot of them.’

She nearly was sick then, following Rosmerta’s gaze to the rowdy table of men. Tonks’ broad profile helpfully had its back to the door but his laughter at something he was pointing at in The Daily Prophet was easily distinguishable in the general hubbub of noise.

‘And wandering hands I’m sure.’ Andromeda added as her stomach churned, reaching into her pocket for Tonks’ pipe.

‘They were good as gold last night.’ Rosmerta said through an overly friendly smile she sent at a nearby table, whose patrons were gesturing at their empty tankards. ‘Except one of them. But I had him out by the ears just gone nine. One of the Superintendents helped me. I said I’ve known Grindylows with more restraint.’

‘It restores one’s faith in our Ministry, truly.’

Rosmerta smile at the gesturing table became so wide it looked painful. ‘Oh, but the Superintendent was very sweet. He saw what was happening when that Auror came over to get more drinks – I used that hex you taught me – and was there in a flash. Wasn’t the first time, I daresay. I don’t suppose you’ll remember a Ted Tonks from school. Year below me, year above you. Well, I said, sweet Morgana, are we that old already that you’ve made Superintendent.’

‘I believe he played Beater on the Hufflepuff team.’ Andromeda said, producing Tonks’ pipe. ‘Speaking of Tonks, I –’

‘ – yes, that’s right. Explains the physique I suppose. Andromeda, my love, that memory of yours. Not a Ravenclaw then, I couldn’t remember. Men all blur into one after a while.’ Rosmerta squeezed her arm. The table wanting more drinks was growing increasingly desperate. ‘But I’d better see to my lovely patrons. Go sit, I’ll bring you something. You look more and more peaky every time I see you.’

She returned the pipe to her pocket. ‘I have to get to the shop.’

Rosmerta tutted, starting to take her leave. ‘Then you make sure you drop by again soon, my love. I don’t like seeing you looking like this.’

Andromeda was saved from responding by the impatient diners calling over to Rosmerta. As she hurried away, Andromeda considered that she had at least been spared telling Rosmerta about the pipe and could return it without her noticing. Although this small success was significantly dampened by the fact that she would have to return it in front of at least half a dozen Aurors.

One sharp inhale and she made her way over to the large table, looking almost longingly at the fireplace behind it. She would unlikely have made it there unnoticed by Tonks and several Aurors but she might have been whisked away by Floo Powder before anyone was able to speak to her.

‘Mr Tonks,’ she said, conjuring all of the joy and friendliness her nausea could muster into her smile, tapping him on the shoulder.

Tonks started slightly and turned in his chair to face her. The beaming smile spreading across his face momentarily disarmed her. As did the sleep-tousled hair. And the thick, square-rimmed glasses.

‘Ms Black, I didn’t think I’d get to see you again so soon.’ He reached up to ruffle his hair and then blushed, seemingly remembering he was wearing glasses because he hastily removed them. ‘Truly an honour.’

‘You left this.’ Andromeda held out his pipe.

‘God, you’re an angel – thank you.’ Tonks said, taking it from her. She ignored how her heart beat slowed for a moment as his fingertips brushed against her outstretched hand. ‘Think Tilly would’ve killed me if I lost it.’

‘Would that be Tonks the 2^nd?’ Andromeda asked, noticing the tightening of her body.

That must have been why he had not slept with her. Why he invited her to lunch. He was already promised to another. Not that the mere fact of marriage had stopped men before.

Tonks glanced down at the pipe and laughed. ‘Yeah, that’s my sister.’

Her chest felt lighter all of a sudden. ‘I’d have thought she’d be delighted by the chance to upgrade her title.’

He snorted.

‘It’s a wonder she’s not tried sooner to be honest.’ Tonks grinned at her. It was easy to smile back at such an expression. ‘Give it a few years and she’ll lose patience.’

Andromeda covered her mouth with a gloved hand to laugh.

There was a cough from across the table. One of Tonks’ colleagues had been watching the exchange with interest. His neighbour dozed on his shoulder.

‘Planning on introducing us, Tonks?’ he said, holding out a hand across the table, careful not to wake the sleeping Auror. He was rather short in all senses, with a stubby nose and a shorn head. ‘Miss I just need to clear my head, I presume.’

‘Piss off, you nosy sod.’ Tonks said, with an easy grin at the other Auror. He returned his grin to Andromeda. ‘Ms Black, this is Caradoc Dearborn.’

‘A pleasure to meet you, Mr Dearborn.’ Andromeda said, leaning over Tonks to accept his hand. The familiar scent of cinnamon and mahogany soothed her lungs. ‘I do believe we are related somewhere on my father’s side.’

‘Sounds about right.’ Caradoc looked between the two of them as he let go again. ‘Explains my homicidal tendencies at least.’

‘Don’t be a prick.’ Tonks said sharply, placing his hand gently on her arm. ‘Ignore him. He’s unbearable at the best of times, let alone in the mornings.’

But Andromeda was quite amused. ‘It’s quite alright. My parents assured me the homicidal tendencies skip a generation so I believe the Gaunts are to blame in this case.’

Caradoc snorted into his tankard. ‘You may proceed, Ms Black. Look after my little Tonks, won’t you.’

Tonks shook his head with despair but he was smiling.

‘Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Mr Dearborn.’ Andromeda said, nodding her head at Caradoc. ‘But I must take my leave. I only came here to return Mr Tonks his pipe.’

‘I’ll walk you out.’ Tonks started to get up.

‘That is very kind, but I intend to use the fireplace.’ She smiled at him, resting her hand on her shoulder to guide him back into his seat. ‘I can manage the few steps around this table quite well.’

‘All right, well, I’ll owl you.’ He squeezed the hand on his shoulder briefly before she let go of him, unsure how to handle the warmth spreading from where they had made contact with one another. ‘Thanks for bringing me my pipe.’

She nodded smilingly and made her way to the fireplace. Throwing in the Floo Powder, she stepped into the green flames and announced her destination. Daring a glance over her shoulder as she was whisked away, she saw Tonks smiling a rather heart-melting smile at the grate where she had just stood.

Perhaps he hadn’t invited her to lunch out of pity.

Perhaps he really did like her.

Perhaps she liked him.

And at that thought she did finally vomit spectacularly onto Mr Ollivander’s dining room rug as she stumbled though the fireplace.

Chapter Text

- Chapter Seven -

The Cry of the Augurey

‘Good morning, Andromeda.‘

Mr Ollivander calmly took a sip of tea from where he sat at his small round dining table, his breakfast of toast with butter and strawberry jam still as yet untouched before him. He replaced the tea cup and dabbed at his mouth with the hem of the crisp white tablecloth.

‘G-good morning, Mr Ollivander.’ she whispered, hurrying to vanish the mess she had created with her wand. ‘I’ll – I’ll be in the workroom.’

Shame burned across her cheeks as she scurried past him. It was fortunate that Mr Olivander lived above the shop or she would not have made it in time to slam the workroom door shut behind her before the second round of vomit escaped her, this time thankfully aimed into the little bin by the door.

Again, she vanished the mess and conjured a damp cloth with which to wipe her mouth. She Summoned herself a cup and gingerly walked over to the large porcelain sink, filling it and taking small sips of refreshingly cold water.

Once she had regained her composure, Andromeda headed over to the work bench and looked over what Mr Ollivander had left for her. A stack of books for her reference and his trusty binder of wand-making notes he had made throughout his own study sat in plain view along with a new wand box. The battered wand box he had previously left for her was now on far shelf by the sink, Andromeda having successfully removed the unicorn hair in the hour or so after Tonks had left the shop.

‘In lyf as in diath, the unicornis mistriste the Wyche.’ The Wyght In-With had read. ‘So the heer, bone and horne at-hold the kynde of the whole. The Wyche must earne its trist be he allowed to proceede on that task most neden to the Sorcerer.’

Considering this instruction and finding nothing of help in her copy of Fantastic Beasts & Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander, Andromeda had slightly self-consciously proffered her gloved hand to the wand core to smell like she would have to a live unicorn, were it to stand in the work room. The unicorn tail hair, once glimmering weakly, suspended between the two largest pieces of wand, had glowed very bright before shrivelling up and out of the wand.

If the new box on the workbench was anything to go by, then Andromeda had been correct in her method. This thought rippled through her, a wave of excitement, as she pulled the next wand box towards her.

Repairing wands, like making wands, was a very old practice, drawing on the ancient distinctions of magic. It came from a time where witchcraft and wizardry were distinct branches of magic. The “true witchcraft,” as her mother termed it, was wandless; wizardry or sorcery required a wand. Tied to particular spells and enchantments, wizardry was by its nature more standardised and, as the western magical community grew, so fell away the non-homogenous, ritualistic parts of witchcraft, until there was nothing but potion-making and herbology under its name. And for those lucky few, wand-making.

As the saying went, who came first, the wizard or the wand? The answer, of course, was the witch.

Opening the box, Andromeda immediately started coughing at the thick smoke coming out of it. The smelling of burning filled her nostrils and she hastened to close it again. Dragon heart string, it had to be. Presumably belonging to a specific breed, so the question became what kind of dragon heart string. Unfortunately, her best bet at distinguishing it would be fire, not smoke.

Casting a Bubblehead Charm over her head, she dared open the box once more. Smoke billowed out until there was none left in the box, only a very cracked wand. She held it closer to her eyes, trying to discern the core visible through the little cracks.

Not heart strings but a feather. It was such a dark green it was almost black, almost indistinguishable from the black wood that encased it, only slight tinges of green catching the light as she rotated the wand.

‘Hm, yes, that one is rather cruel of me.’ Mr Ollivander mused, making her start as he entered the work room. ‘Not a core I personally choose to work with, but with repairs one cannot be as picky as with making wands.’

‘Is – is it an Augurey feather?’ Andromeda said, continuing to examine the feather through the cracks.

Mr Ollivander’s expressions were always rather neutral but she thought his glassy eyes might be twinkling a little with something redolent of praise as she glanced at him.

‘But it was smoking. I thought perhaps dragon heart string at first.’

 ‘Colloquially, an Augurey is known as…’

 ‘An Irish Phoenix.’ she finished for him. ‘Although the Augurey is not immortal like the real Phoenix.’

‘Indeed. They do not tend to live longer than 20 years or so, but it is how the Augurey dies that our ancestors first – mistakenly – believed it to be a relative of the Phoenix.’

Andromeda popped her Bubblehead Charm and pulled Fantastic Beasts & Where to Find Them towards her. Newt Scamander was infuriatingly brief on the Augurey and made no mention of the bird’s death, only that magical people had once believed it an omen of death.

‘Modern wizards have quite lost interest in creatures like the Augurey, you’ll need an older book than that.’ Mr Ollivander nodded at the books he had left for her. ‘I shall save you the trouble for this particular answer. With its final song, the Augurey begins to burn into a cloud of smoke until it is no more. Given the feather is still protected mostly by the core, it still receives too much sustenance to combust fully as it should at the end of its life. So, the wand-maker steps in to remove it.’

‘I see.’ Andromeda glanced over at The Wyght In-With. ‘Perhaps –’

‘I’m afraid that author is in agreement with me that there is no use in using Augurey feathers.’ Mr Ollivander was watching her intently. ‘But think of what they told you about the unicorn.’

She pondered a moment. ‘That the core and the creature share the same nature.’

‘Precisely.’

She flicked back to the words of Newt Scamander.

‘So,’ she began, re-reading the passage on the Augurey, ‘so the Augurey is a mournful creature, whose song foretells of rain.’

‘Meaning it requires…’

‘Meaning it requires happiness to remove it.’ Andromeda suggested, watching Mr Ollivander’s expression closely. It did not change, he merely looked back at her, his face as blank as ever. ‘No, it requires melancholy. A fellow melancholic spirit.’

Now, how to prove herself in that way to the feather.

She looked down at her gloved hand. Pausing for a moment, she removed her right glove, revealing the gnarled skin beneath. There were blotches of red, shiny skin amidst harder, more scarred skin. Just visible, hidden amongst the burns, the deeper line of long scar ran across the whole palm. She considered it for a moment and then removed a pin from her hair. Bewitching it, so that the tip sharpened to a thin point, she pricked the tip of her index finger, focusing her mind on thoughts of melancholy as a drop of blood fell down onto the wand.

The blood dripped into the cracked wand, reaching the exposed part of the feather.

A loud, mournful cry rang audibly though the room. The cracks of the wand broke apart to allow the feather to roll out into the exposed air. Each end began to smoke and a moment later, there was nothing but the wooden, empty wand remaining.

‘Curious.’

Andromeda hastily put her glove back on, looking over to Mr Ollivander, who now approached the workbench. There was now a tickle of nausea in the back of her throat again.

‘Did – did I do it wrong?’

‘Not at all. You did very well.’ He picked up the wand and examined it. ‘Not a trace of the feather remains. That was really well done.’

‘But then –’

‘The Augurey is a mournful creature, whose song foretells of rain, that is what you told me.’ His glass-like eyes seemed to be examining her face intently. ‘Most would have presented a droplet of water, so as to induce it to sing, thus allowing the first step of its death to be properly fulfilled.’

‘So, I did do it wrong.’ Andromeda said, looking down at her gloved hands.

‘There are many ways of separating the same core. The blood can in fact be quite versatile, conveying various emotions that endear the wandmaker to a variety of cores.’ Mr Ollivander replaced the wand in the box. ‘But the blood reveals all. For many, their sins are too great to ever endear them to a creature. So, it is important to learn the alternative methods.’

Andromeda looked at the work bench rather than Mr Ollivander. She thought him disappointed in her. She had not taken the most learned route but the easiest one. She had not done justice to the sophisticated art of wand-making.

‘Andromeda, you have done very well.’ he said again. ‘In fact, I am impressed. It requires great focus of mind to have the blood convey the fitting emotion.’

Very cautiously, she raised her gaze to meet his. His glassy eyes were twinkling in earnest.

‘For the sake of your fingers, you will want to learn the alternatives.’ he said and Summoned a collection of books from the bookshelf behind her. ‘But it is good that you have discovered the power of the blood so early. It will help you with your more stubborn patients.’

‘I have practiced bloodcraft before.’ Andromeda conceded, scanning the titles of the additional books now on the workbench. ‘My parents taught me a little of the true witchcraft – both of my family lines favoured bloodcraft in particular.’

‘I see.’ Mr Ollivander nodded, standing up again. ‘Then, you will enjoy your further reading. I’ll relieve you of wand fittings for the next few days. You are to chart the requirements for separating the different cores you come across in your reading.’

‘Thank you, Mr Ollivander.’

He left her to her reading.

Andromeda’s hands shook slightly as she opened the book atop of the pile. She had done well. Indeed, very well, Mr Ollivander had said. A small smile dared its way onto her face. It did not leave her until she left work for the day.

She materialised in Hogsmeade’s graveyard, armed with two begonia shrubs and a small shovel. Weaving in and out of the haphazardly built graves, Andromeda adjusted her grip on her burden and continued on with purpose, ignoring the gravel path for a route that was quicker. In the far corner, she stopped before a small headstone, still very new compared to its crumbling neighbours, the whiteish Portland stone kept clean by her meticulous care and rigorous water-repelling Charms.

Here lies Letitia Fawley,
Beloved Friend.
1944 – 1960

The happily blooming zinnias before the headstone were rather unceremoniously pulled out by Andromeda as she set to work replacing them with the begonias she had brought. She used the shovel to help her remove the zinnias by the roots and carefully settled the begonias in their place. Pulling out her wand, she murmured a few spells to make sure the begonias would last. Then, she vanished the zinnias and the shovel.

‘I hope it’s peaceful there.’ she said to the headstone, absently running her fingers along the begonia’s leaves. ‘You deserved that most of all.’

She remained knelt there for a few minutes, until she heard footsteps crunching down the gravel path towards her. Slowly, she got to her feet and turned to face the newcomer. Rabastan smirked at her.

‘It is truly touching to see your devotion to dear Lettie even after all these years.’ he drawled as he reached her.

‘Your lack of devotion is equally touching.’

‘Our engagement was never announced – I have no obligation to –’

He broke off as Andromeda pressed her wand to his throat. ‘Careful, Rabastan. Family loyalty does not prevent me from hexing you.’

She grabbed his wrist as he made for his own wand and squeezed tightly. Rabastan hissed. The flicker in his eyes told her he was enjoying this exchange.

‘My apologies, dear sister,’ he purred in her ear, his free hand stroking her cheek. ‘I would never wish to rile you so.’

Disgust bubbled in the back of her throat at his touch but she contained herself, calmly putting some distance between them and releasing his wrist.

‘Come, Bella is expecting us.’

He made a disgruntled noise but did not contradict her.

They walked in silence to the perimeter of the graveyard and Disapparated together to the Lestranges’ country residence.

Chapter Text

- Chapter Eight -

Relationships of Business and Pleasure

Unlike Andromeda’s own ancestral home, the Lestrange manor did not require Glamour Charms to keep it in good order. A few generations younger than the House of Black, they had not yet squandered enough investments nor refused to have an occupation for enough years to have fallen to the same precarious financial status. In that regard, Cygnus Black had chosen well for his eldest daughter.

As Rabastan led their way along the side of the house to the gardens, Andromeda could hear the rather disgruntled tones of Rodolphus Lestrange drifting towards them. They stepped over the remnants of a game of croquet, where the gnomes were still lying discarded, a few now stirring and regaining consciousness after having been batted through the various posts scattered throughout the lawn.

Rodolphus cursed from somewhere just above them as they reached the terrace.

‘Try again.’ his wife commanded, reclined in her lounge chair, her sunglasses quite unnecessary for such a grey day, her bathing suit displaying her pale skin for all to see. ‘No, not the bishop. The knight. Honestly, Dolly, it’s like playing with a troll.’

At this, Rodolphus got to his feet and strode off, swearing. Rabastan snickered, guiding Andromeda up the steps.

Bellatrix turned away from her chess set at the sound of their arrival, her lips curling into a smile.

‘Oh, good, Dromeda, you are here at last.’ She beckoned her sister over with a lazily raised hand. ‘Switch in with Dolly. I want to finish my play.’

Obliging her older sister, Andromeda took the seat Rodolphus has just vacated and considered the state of the board he had left her in. Most of his pieces were already cowering at the side of the board, one by one having been brutally attacked by Bellatrix’s own pieces. Indeed, Bellatrix was only two plays away from winning.

Rabastan draped himself around her shoulders.

‘Dear me, is this the product of my brother concentrating?’ he asked, his arms encircling her throat as he leant forwards. ‘I shudder to think what he plays like without your instruction, Bella.’

Bellatrix smirked, moving her rook forwards.

‘Well, then, what do you advise?’ Andromeda asked, moving her king one square away from the encircling pieces. ‘I do not think there is any saving this match.’

‘No, indeed.’ Bellatrix watched Rabastan adjust his weight on Andromeda’s shoulders, moving her rook again. ‘Checkmate.’

Andromeda set about resetting the chess pieces, Rodophus’ pieces looking very much worse for wear, having lost an innumerable amount matches already that day.

‘Fetch us some refreshments, Rabbie.’ Bellatrix said, waving her hand in the direction of the door. ‘And go see to Dolly. He needs attention or he’ll be sulking until past dinner.’

Rabastan let out a noise of long suffering, running his hands along Andromeda as he extricated himself. She kept her hands steady as she placed more pieces on the board.

‘Salazar, how he drools over you like a dog.’ Bellatrix observed, leaning back in her lounge chair. ‘I don’t know how you stand it.’

‘We have an understanding.’

‘And what does he understand exactly?’ Bellatrix asked, her face all amusement. ‘That he is pleasure and the others are business?’

‘I do not have relationships for pleasure. Rabastan knows that much.’

Bellatrix tittered. ‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that.’

This got Andromeda to look up from the chess board. Bellatrix’s smile was maddeningly gleeful.

‘Why?’

‘He is thinking of marriage. I heard him speak of it to Dolly.’

Andromeda made a noise of disparagement.

‘He was thinking of you as he said it.’

‘Coincidence.’ Andromeda dismissed. ‘Even men are capable of two thoughts at once.’

‘I never met a man capable of such a thing.’

‘Not even your Mr Riddle?’ Andromeda allowed herself her first smile since arriving. ‘I am all amazement.’

Bellatrix’s smirk soured slightly. ‘I do not require a wand to hurt you, sister.’

‘Yes, I have many years of experience to attest to that.’ Her heart did not even have one irregular beat to it.  ‘There, the board is set.’

‘Well, go on then.’

They played in silence for a time.

Perhaps Rabastan had been more possessive than usual. She could not be sure, for possession had always been his way. The second son, set to inherit whatever his parents decided to throw in his direction, he had treated every woman he had been with as his birth right, his just rewards for the injustice of his situation.

But he was no different than any of the others. Except perhaps Tonks. Tonks, who had held her hand and –
‘Stop it.’ Andromeda said, closing her thoughts sharply.

Bellatrix smirked widely. Andromeda could almost see how her dark eyes glittered through her sunglasses.

‘You ought to tell Rufus you use Legilimency to win. His ego might not feel nearly as bruised.’

At that Bellatrix scoffed. ‘I don’t need Leglimency to win at chess.’

This much was true for Bellatrix had only ever once lost a chess match and no one had ever beaten her again in the ten years since.

‘Perhaps I should learn.’ Andromeda mused.

Bellatrix took the opportunity to take her last pawn.

‘Your trouble, my dear, is that you never play to win,’ Bellatrix said. ‘You only ever play to survive.’

Andromeda did not answer her, keeping her attention on the chessboard. Her odds in playing against Bellatrix were always poor from the outset but she might yet be able to play for a little longer if she could just get her queen out from her current barricade of Bellatrix’s pieces.

‘Aren’t you going to tell me who he is?’ Bellatrix asked her sweetly.

She continued to study the chessboard. With Bellatrix’s pieces more focused on Andromeda’s queen, the king was relatively exposed. If she moved her remaining bishop, she might distract her sister temporarily from her queen.

‘Shall I guess?’

Andromeda sighed, moving her bishop. ‘If you must. Check.’

‘You are no fun.’ Bellatrix looked contrastingly delighted at her choice in strategy, her hand twitching as she selected a piece to chase after Andromeda’s bishop. ‘Does father know?’

‘That I am no fun? Yes, I assume so.’ Andromeda inched her bishop around the other side of Bellatrix’s king. ‘Check.’

‘He was holding your hand rather lovingly, wasn’t he?’

Andromeda scoffed. ‘I did not think you qualified to spot such a thing.’

‘Am I not allowed to be delighted for my sister?’ Bellatrix tittered, her hand twitching again as she hovered over her pieces, deliberating between two possible moves. ‘You have two men vying for you. I may yet see you saved from spinsterhood.’

The sound of the Lestrange brothers returning to the terrace, armed with wine, spared Andromeda from having to respond. Bellatrix stopped humouring Andromeda’s diversion and took her queen.

‘Checkmate.’

Andromeda had only intended to stay for dinner, but Rabastan had made his intentions quite clear during the meal, placing his hand on her thigh beneath the table as they ate. Though Rabastan behaved quite as he always did in these more carnal encounters, she had been unable to forget Bellatrix’s statement that he was considering marriage. It had gnawed at her and she had struggled to relax, making things more uncomfortable than usual, so as she materialised on Morgana Way, further away from her house than she had intended to Apparate, she was hobbling slightly.

A pang of hunger hit as she moved forwards. She was always careful to eat very little in company, particularly in the company of men. But after a long day, the few mouthfuls she had eaten were laughably little.

She spied a man walking towards her from the opposite end of the street, his broad shoulders vaguely outlined by the dim streetlamps and laughter floating over from The Three Broomstick on the light breeze. Pausing to rest against a nearby streetlamp, Andromeda watched the man drawing nearer. Her left hand reassured her that her wand was still in her right pocket.

‘Ms Black!’ the man called out and raised a hand to wave.

Her body unclenched, recognising Tonks.

‘Good evening, Superintendent.’ she greeted as he reached her.

Tonks was smiling at her under the light of the streetlamp, balancing a misshapen parcel in one hand, the other hand now casually in his pocket. She hastened to let go of the streetlamp to match his easy posture with a confidently upright one of her own, though it took a great effort to ignore her discomfort at doing so.

‘I’m here on official business.’ he told her seriously, nodding his head at the parcel.

‘Oh?’

‘By order of Madame Rosmerta, I am sent to deliver you your dinner, along with her sincerest apologies for not bringing it herself.’

She covered her mouth with a gloved hand to dampen her own smile as he bowed, holding out the parcel to her.

‘That is very kind of her – and of you.’ Andromeda carefully accepted the parcel from him. ‘I haven’t eaten properly all day. Thank you.’

‘Rumour has it, she’s got her hands full with a band of unruly Aurors,’ Tonks winked conspiratorially and Andromeda’s heart did a traitorous flutter. ‘But I wouldn’t know anything about that.’

‘Of course not. You were just out to clear your head.’

Tonks laughed. ‘Exactly.’

Andromeda adjusted her grip on the parcel, this close proximity to Tonks bringing her a good dosing of that familiar mix of cinnamon and mahogany. It filled her nostrils and began to spread warmth through her chest as it followed her breath down into her lungs. His smile tickled at her own to fully reveal itself.

‘Would you like to come inside?’ she found herself asking as she fought to keep her expression vaguely neutral.

‘If I’m not intruding –’

‘Not at all.’ The smile she gave him was more controlled, a fittingly polite measure of joy. ‘I much prefer company to eating alone.’

‘Then, it would be my pleasure, Ms Black.’

He started to move in the direction of her front door but then paused, his eyes on her as she stepped carefully forwards. Something in his expression told her she had not concealed her wince at moving as well as she had thought.

‘Here, hold on to me.’ he said, coming back to her and holding out his arm. ‘And I’ll carry your food.’

Her insides felt quite raw and any movement  in her legs seemed to jostle that which was already causing her discomfort. But she did not accept Tonks’ arm, walking determinately forwards.

‘We’ll use the back door.’ Andromeda told him as he shook his head in an exasperated fashion. ‘I’m afraid some of my walls have eyes. I’d rather they didn’t see you.’

‘Eyes?’ he repeated, hastening to follow her to the small gate at the side of the house.

She did not answer, rebalancing the food parcel to only be in one hand so she could try and open the gate with the other, distracted by the stiff lock.

‘I’ll do it.’ Tonks brushed gently passed her to open the gate. He held it open for her. ‘After you.’

Her smile was genuine as she nodded her head. ‘Thank you.’

‘So, eyes in your walls.’ Tonks pressed, closing the gate behind them. ‘Are we talking literally or –’

‘The house is still mostly decorated to the tastes of my grandparents.’ Andromeda returned to carrying the parcel with both hands, leading the way along the side of the house. ‘They had a great many family portraits, many of which helpfully correspond to portraits at the Abbey.’

Tonks made an odd noise that she could not quite discern.

‘So, they spy on you?’

‘It is – er – unconventional for an unmarried woman in my circle to live alone. My father had to take certain precautions.’

‘Against what?’ Tonks scoffed as they reached her back door.

Andromeda turned to him, smiling at his rather outraged expression. He held out his hands so that she could return him the parcel while she opened the door.

‘I can only assume,’ she began slowly, her eyes dancing with laughter, unlocking the front door with her wand, ‘he was worried about the young men coming to my door in the middle of the night to compromise my virtue.’

The kitchen light flicked on as the door sprung open, illuminating the faint blush creeping into Tonks’ cheeks. His grin as he brushed past her was, however, contrastingly confident. He set the food parcel down on the nearest counter and watched her close the door.

‘Would he consider this compromising your virtue?’

‘I suppose that would depend on what this is.’