RIOT HEART !

date: may 5th 1979 location: ministry gala 

      wrapped in glittering dress and nursing a spirited drink, she is something of a force; andromeda spends her time chatting, listening, dancing the night away, having arrived as an extension to her parents’ guaranteed appearance. the blacks wasted no opportunity to show their support to yaxley’s party, but andromeda herself weaves between supporters of both sides, choosing mostly to flutter about bagnold’s people if only to turn heads and charge whispers. the buzz that galas provided were next to none -- she had grown accustomed to a life spent rubbing shoulders with the opulent and powerful,  and even more so with the atmosphere so politically charged. 

      dromeda almost finds her way to another pocket of what seems to be very interesting conversation when a ghost of the past enters her peripheral -- it takes her a moment and a string of skipped heartbeats to recognize thabit colton, whom she had tried ( and failed ) to erase from her memories for almost a decade. there is a wall of repressed history and regret that should prevent her from seeking him out, but she does just that, crossing the sea of guests to make her way to him. there’s a stride in her step ( fuelled by the liquid courage ), ignoring the racing heart in her chest as she draws in close. 

    the  hit  wizard  is  abstracted;  cerebral  intuition  targeting  the  prior  evening  of  anthracite  linens.  the  raven-tressed  witch’s  mouth  parts,  inquisitive  syllables  tumble  from  her  tongue,  and  he  fails  to  discern  them.  enchanted  teaspoon  twists  a  minuscule  whirlpool  in  black  tea,  drowns  a  cube  of  sugar  within  its  tart  vortex.  the  silver  utensil  sustains  its  spherical  evolution,  saccharine  particles  disintegrating,  spell  drifting  needlessly  onward.  sheets  warp  into  roughly  lain  kisses,  into  proclamations  that  linger  throughout  obsidian  hours.  the  elegant  vision  across  from  him  capsizes  a  page  –  peripheral  glimpses  an  embossed  headline  declaring  MURDER,  sprightly  debris  envelops  MISSING  witch.  elladora’s  misplaced  silhouette,  he  affirms,  lacks  death  eater  affiliation.

andromeda  black  pries  meric  mulciber  from  sinful  encephalon.  her  laugh,  deceivingly  honeyed,  startles  his  internal  confessional.  ❛  –  what ?  ❜  hazel  irises  focalize,  newfound  awareness  accompanies  the  column  of  current  perusal.  the  possessed  teaspoon  ceases  its  dizzying  motion.  ❛  shame  if  she  were  to  go  missing.  ❜  he  proffers  further,  ❛  if  i  knew  she  wouldn’t  be  so  bloody  thrilled  to  make  the  front  page,  i’d  see  it  happen.  ❜

     she wonders if life has always been this blissfully complicated -- she, andromeda, halfway PARIAH of the sisters black, sitting across the younger of the lestranges at an upscale tea shop on a sunday afternoon, seated in the more lavish section among others of societal elite. clasped between her fingers is a newspaper brandishing yet another darkness come upon their world -- missing, murdered, general upheaval and unrest. yet she sits comfortably, legs crossed and a laugh trailing on her lips over the rumour mill and petty gossip, as though the world wasn’t falling to ruin for other witches and wizards -- those unlike her, unlike them, without the luxury of spending galleons on and precious time in a private seating space in an ornate tea shop. andromeda thinks ( knows ) she shouldn’t be so comfortable, so relaxed with a man that stood for everything she wants to get away from ( first the arranged marriage, then outright involvement with the deatheaters ) -- and she doesn’t know whether or not she’s disappointed by the lack of a sinking feeling or moral pull.

      IT CAN’T BE HELPED, is what she tells herself ( is it such a crime ? ) -- it’s the weak way around, a temporary conclusion rooted in unwillingness to give up yet another piece of her life, herself in a way. “ i want to tell you that it’s incredibly rude to wish going missing onto someone -- ” and she should, but dromeda elects instead to roll her eyes and neglect the part where rabastan suggests to take it upon himself, “ -- but it’s skeeter, and i’m positive that there’s an entire litany of people waiting to give her a piece of their mind. shame that my exposé is the dullest of them all. ”

date: spring 1979 location: the rosier household

     andromeda appears at the grounds with a muted pop, hailing her arrival via apparition -- the first things her eyes land on are the flowers, beautiful and well-tended to as she last remembers them to be. she resigns herself to basking in their loveliness later; for now, she crosses the grounds in half-hurried strides towards the front door. the bag slung in the crook of her arm houses gifts for the children and the whole family ( her family, too -- but this one in particular is too good, too pure for her that andromeda almost feels like she is trespassing each time she is with them, but also finds herself unable to resist the want to be and spend time with some of the only completely happy parts of family she has ), hoping that if there was a celebration or birthday of sorts she’d be prepared, and if there was no festivity, she’d have a reason to visit. 

      blood traitor, this cousin of hers, the patriarch of this household, had been named -- curious it was that his erasure from the maternal side of her family only brought her closer to him. domitius had been brave in the ways andromeda could only wish she could be. in a way, by being around him, she envisions and vicariously lives a life ( so intricately idealized ) that she could have been immersed in had she just been able to break free. 

date: early spring of 1979 location: the black family manor 

     it’s an art form, the way andromeda flits and flutters about with well-mannered grace in a room filled to the brim with the very same people she would rather not associate with. appearances are everything, however -- this was a lesson ingrained in her from a young age, taught to perfect a fake smile and present herself with polite decorum regardless of the thoughts and feelings brewing beneath the surface. so she does just that, making rounds through the guests ( criminals, miscreants, deatheaters -- the kind of company her family hailed as honourable and respectable, the kind of company that made disgust sink her stomach and held her down like a ball and chain ) when she would much rather be anywhere else but in the thick of the party. 

     a glass of champagne is held between deft fingers as she takes carefully placed steps through the ballroom, sipping every so often in a vague attempt to mellow her spirit and to keep her skin from crawling even more than it already did.  

     figure approaches in time for her to halfway drain her glass, a brow raised upon recognition of who it is -- mulciber, whom she knows only by extension of dearest bella. “ i do believe you’ve come upon the wrong sister, ” soft chuckle tumbles from equally soft lips, contrast to the tongue-in-cheek comments to bracket it, “ and in any event you might ask, no, i am not aware of bella’s whereabouts. ”

date: april 29, 1979 location: the leaky cauldron

     andromeda finds herself ducking into the pub needing to breathe -- the manor has proven itself far too suffocating for what seems like the hundredth time this week, the catalyst having been a row at the dinner table. it’s almost laughable how at twenty-six bloody years old, her mother can still make her feel so small and broken, and that the household feels more like a dungeon than a home -- so she removes herself from it all, if only for the rest of the evening, and resigns herself to a goal of chasing away the anger with a string of strong drinks. 

     she had originally planned the night to be spent alone -- after all, dromeda abhorred the idea of anyone seeing her shit-faced and emotional to boot -- but she finds herself looking for a familiar face, hoping to satisfy a craving for company while still sober and coherent. dark eyes scan the bustling pub floor and land on a certain james potter. andromeda had lapsed him all of six years in school and much relies on sirius’ take of the boy, so there are a few holes in the image and perception of him in her mind -- but what she does know is that he has become sirius’ refuge, having given him the love and family her own had failed to provide him with. for that, she is grateful. 

location: ???

slender fingers peruse through the prophet held in her hands but truly only one section catches her eye -- amidst the reports of terror and upheaval in recent events, the gossip column finds itself a frequent visitor in andromeda black. she spots names that intrigue her, “details” on family and acquaintances alike, bits of so-called information filed away in her mind for later investigation. dark eyes scan the list up and down, expression somewhere between perplexed and strangely amused. “ can you imagine making a living out of gossip, prying into people’s lives ? ” the query is posed with a slightly daring lilt, as though an invitation for whoever to jump in and defend or refute the apparent sightings. 

andromeda flips the page if only to appear interested in the other contents -- quidditch statistics ( she’d only ever been halfway interested while in school, if only to bat eyes at players ! ), a report pertaining to her line of work that she decides to dwell on later; it is an issue for working andromeda. for now, she is settled in her social skin and abuzz with petty interest. unsurprisingly, she eventually flips back to the page entitled sightings by skeeter. andromeda knows it’s all stretched truths and embellishment ( for the most part ), meant to stir the pot and create friction drawn away from the war, entertainment for people who have nothing better to do than live vicariously through the scandalous lives of others. 

“ i might have to start looking over my shoulder more often. perhaps i may even need to double check the loo, the trash bin -- ” out comes a laugh that is as sweet as it is biting, and a shake of the head, “ -- skeeter is everywhere. ”

* △ — the dark lord has targeted [ ANDROMEDA BLACK ] !  the muggles say  she holds resemblance to [ ADELAIDE KANE ]. the [ 26 ] year old [ CIS FEMALE ] was [ WARM & FAMILIAL ] before the war, but have now become [ SECRETIVE & DETACHED ]. though they were once a part of [ SLYTHERIN ], they have now taken up the position of an [ APOTHECARY POTIONEER ]. whispers throughout the ministry claim that the [ PUREBLOOD ] is actually a [ NEUTRAL ], but i wouldn’t report that to the daily prophet.