Political Plans (Dromeda)

Andromeda and her sisters didn’t really socialise much. They each had their own circles in Hogwarts, and it was a rare occurrence when the three of them were together. This was perhaps for the best, seeing as they had never been the closest of girls to begin with, even when forced to play with one another when growing up. Andromeda had learnt to play the quieter role, letting Bellatrix take the lead and simply following along, waiting for her chance to escape. It was how the middle child lived in most families from what she could gather; in the shadow of the eldest and never quite as endearing as the baby. This suited Andromeda fine now. In her sixth year of Hogwarts, she kept herself to herself, not causing a stir wherever she went like the other Black family members.

Which is why she had found it so peculiar that Narcissa had gone to lengths to search her out yesterday evening. She hadn’t been easy to find. Being stuck in the dungeons so often with nothing but heckling laughter and the rippling of the lake through the Common Room window for company, Andromeda occasionally sought an escape to the Astronomy tower. It was quiet and peaceful, and normally gave her time to think whilst tinkering around with all the equipment. Yesterday, however, a blonde head had popped around the door, claiming to have exciting news. Cissa had seemed almost girlish with excitement, and it had been contagious enough to lure Andromeda into questioning. What she heard, however, was not what she had been expecting.

Rabastan Lestrange had asked to meet with her, alone and unchaperoned. Andromeda had never been the brightest of the sisters, and received distinctly average grades in some subjects, but she had been a Black more than long enough to know how Pureblood politics worked. It was common knowledge that Bellatrix was due to be married off to Rabastan’s brother in the near future, and with Cissa seeming more and more likely to meet her match in Lucius Malfoy it had left Cygnus and Druella with only their troublesome middle child. They had obviously proposed the match to the Lestranges as a condition of Bellatrix’s hand. The Blacks were a powerful and elite family in the wizarding world; it would have been more than their worth for the Lestranges to refuse. And Rabastan, being the well-behaved young Pureblood he was, was clearly following orders, just as she was expected to do.

Andromeda had tried simply refusing, once upon a time. It had caused her nothing but misery, being dragged kicking and screaming (sometimes literally) to the parties of other well-to-do families whilst Bella and Cissa sashayed about as they had been taught to. Cissa would have reported back in a heartbeat if Dromeda had refused to even see him. No. No, better to meet him and play along for the moment. After all, no other suitor had been able to stand to go through with the arrangements. Dromeda of course always claimed they had simply not been good enough, and her parents could hardly argue and bring their name into disrepute after the Sirius fiasco.

So, here she was, hands clasped in front of her wearing traditional dress robes of an unseasonal yellow and gold as she made her way to the courtyard he had specified. Though she had doubts about her family and raising, she still moved with the elegance practically beaten into every Black woman, and even lowered into a small curtsey out of tradition as she reached the bench he sat on, her usual crooked smile creeping into the corner of her right lip.

“One may almost think you had chosen this spot for beauty, if they didn’t know it was for seclusion,” she commented, making sure to hold his eyes as she rose to stand straight again. “Narcissa was quite impressed”

The implication that she wasn’t was not one she deemed to correct.

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Though she wasn’t a fan of most Pureblood-raised young men, she had to give Rabastan his due. He hadn’t snapped at her bait like some shorter tempered types would have. Instead he held himself well, as she had always been taught to do. And she had to admit, he wasn’t the worst thing to look at in the world whilst she was being forced to spend this time with him. Had he approached her under honest reasons, she may have even deemed to give him the benefit of the doubt, had her affections not already been tempted to elsewhere to someone who would be far less pleasing to her family.

“Touché on the location,” she granted him, but raised a brow at his mention of Narcissa. “Though I am not overly sure Narcissa would know real happiness if it slapped her across the face.” She thought for a moment, a sly true smile betraying her Black blood creeping to her face, as she added as an aside, “Well, unless it was draped in hand-spun silk and fifty carat diamonds.”

It wasn’t that she didn’t love her sisters or her family in general. The fact that they were related was unchangeable in Andromeda’s mind, whether her name was on a piece of parchment on the wall or not. Blood was a bond not easily broken, and though she might think her sisters had a slightly twisted view of what was right, she would still defend them in most circumstances. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t insult them, however, to someone she believed would not be sending it straight back. Strangely she did not feel Rabastan was the snitching type. At his comment on her family she tilted a head to one side, intrigued. It was hardly a romantic gesture – far from it – but at least he was attempting honesty. She could begin to respect that. It wasn’t something she often encountered in her Slytherin peers.

“It interests me,” she started, taking a couple of steps closer as she spoke, though staying stood to look down upon him, “that you put the satisfaction of not only your parents, but that of mine too, above that of your own. I thought most young men and women of our standing were much more selfish in their motivations. At least, that has been my experience.”

This much was true. When her parents had been looking for a match for Bellatrix, she had stopped at nothing to please their mother enough to ensure she got the match she wanted. If there was one compliment she could give her older sister is was that she knew what she wanted in life and the determination to get it. And Narcissa...well, as long as she had a future husband who could lavish her in silk and jewels and finery she would be pleased with her lot in life. Andromeda was certainly the one that wanted to most out of her future life. She wasn’t opposed to the idea of being a wife; far from it in fact. She simply didn’t want to be just a wife, a trophy to be paraded around parties spouting gushes of appreciation for how wonderful her husband was for booting a house elf across the hallway for accidentally polishing his shoes with the wrong cloth.

His question, however, drew her in, and she paused in her step to look at him for a moment, ice-blue eyes unblinking. The smile faded from her lips as her expression became more unreadable. He already seemed resigned to this whole affair without a hint of question or dissent. Was she really deemed suitable only for someone who didn’t question orders? Was that the summit of her worth? It was the briefest of moments, however, till the mocking smile was already creeping its way back again.

“I do believe a lady is supposed to retain some secrets, is she not, mister Lestrange?” she asked lightly. She had agreed to go through with this meeting after all. She may as well make the most of the opportunity to make sure it didn’t happen again. It hadn’t taken long to see off previous suitors for a Black family hand. This could only be a matter of time. Her eyes twinkled lightly as she again stepped towards him, the delicate silk of her robes brushing the tips of his shoes and she knelt so their faces were level with one another, only a short distance apart.

“What about yourself? Is the middle, troublesome sister enough to sate the desires of Rabastan Lestrange?”

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Well, at the very least Rabastan appreciated her humour. She had noticed the smirk at her comment on Narcissa, and found it a small comfort. It was good to know that he didn’t hold every Pureblood on some high pedestal that could not be shaken with fault or flaw. If only admitting that Narcissa was shallow, he was admitting that Purebloods were not perfect, as her mother and father would insist she believe. She was as full of faults as much as the next person, and would not be fooled into such ridiculous thinking like some young women were. Purebloods weren’t perfect, they weren’t untouchable, and they could be hurt. Her family had proved that in striking Sirius from the family tree. It had been a massive blow to Black family pride, and it had taken a lot of work to re-establish themselves so quickly. Children and marriage were all part of that dealing.

As he spoke of ‘their kind’ however, Andromeda felt a familiar disappointment rise. There had been a few Purebloods in the past she had spoken to, and for the most part had thought them decent people. They had been pleasant and respectful, had a sense of humour and been gentlemanly enough to hold doors and the like. The vision was always ruined with a comment just like that one. Why was it only she and Sirius who could see the ridiculousness of that concept? The fact of the matter was that some Muggleborn witches and wizards could quite easily take almost any Pureblood in a duel and come out on top. To even flippantly discuss whether they were inferior seemed like such a waste of oxygen to her. When conversations like this went on at home, Andromeda always excused herself at a tactful moment likely to be noted by those in attendance and refused to return. She wasn’t sure escape was really an option here, so instead found herself having to defend her position without being entirely sure herself what it was.

“No alternatives?” she questioned, trying to keep her tone light, as though merely playing his devil’s advocate. “Why is it that the ideas of equality, romance and – do I dare ask – love are so deeply foreign to families like yours and mine? Is it really so bizarre to wish to love the person you are dedicating the rest of your life to, however long that may be?”

Though her tone and smile were light-hearted, it was a question Andromeda repeatedly found herself asking. There were plenty of Pureblood families who had no hesitation in simply being with those they naturally cared about. One only had to look and the Potter and Weasley families to see Purebloods who had no such notion of superiority over Muggle borns. In the end, somewhere far back along the line, the likelihood was that she was related to their families too. Why did she necessarily have to agree with the part of the family that had raised her as a child, rather than the one she agreed with as a young adult?

“I couldn’t allow myself to judge that,” she replied to his question, allowing herself the first real moment of honesty she’d had with someone who wasn’t Sirius in a long while. “I would never presume to know you just because I happen to be acquainted with other members of your family. I’m offended you should think to do the same with me.”

He mentioned Sirius, and she rose quickly to stand again, uncomfortable with the subject. It was common knowledge that Andromeda still spent time with her outcast cousin, though nobody had dared yet to report just how much to her parents. It was possible they simply didn’t know. He always seemed to know about routes around the castle Andromeda had never known existed, and never seemed to be able to replot afterwards. As a result, though people knew who she snuck out to speak with, nobody could ever claim to have definitive proof. Rather than answer, as she couldn’t think of how to without landing herself in scalding water, she deflected.

“Do you really want a boring wife with no mind or opinion of her own? If that’s the case, I recommend you speak to someone else. Or perhaps get a dog, instead. I suspect the company would be equally if not more enjoyable.”

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”Strange, because that’s exactly how it would appear to an outside observer. Of course, it would be difficult for anyone to understand the intricacies of these arrangements if I myself have trouble grasping them, I suppose.”

It was a flippant comment, almost a joke at her own expense. Self-deprecation was not something treasured by Pureblood families. You were supposed to be proud of who you were and where you came from, the family that stood around you. To insult the blood that flowed within your veins was practically sacrilege, though Andromeda had sailed through years of getting away with such things. It had gotten worse since the Sirius affair. She supposed that her parents had seen the reaction Sirius and Regulus’ parents had to their eldest boy’s dissent, and were trying a different tactic. Perhaps they assumed this uncharacteristic tolerance would prevent their daughter from following the same path. Though she didn’t like to think it, if that was their plan, they hadn’t been wrong yet.

“’Snub’ your proposal?” she repeated, a sharp laugh slipping unwittingly from her lips as she turned away from him, rolling her eyes to the skies for a moment before turning back. “Rabastan, I don’t recall there being one to snub to begin with. And besides, I shall not agree to marry someone I barely know. Bellatrix and Narcissa both had ample time to be courted by the suitors they deemed acceptable, and are still doing so. Neither of them are officially engaged. I do not plan on speeding ahead of them in the matter.”

Andromeda had always been well-spoken, something she had learned from years of training for high-society parties. She simply couldn’t imagine being otherwise. Though she might not want to be a Black woman, it was a part of who she was, and a part she could not simply turn her back on as Sirius had. He had been completely different from the rest of their family. He had always been rebellious, a troublemaker, the child who tried to pull the tablecloth from beneath the plates at a banquet and ended up soaking the Minister of Magic in melted chocolate. Of course, Andromeda had always found these situations highly amusing and missed them now, but that was beyond the point. Sirius had been so obviously different, had such an intense dislike for everything their family stood for. As much as she wanted to, Andromeda could not say the same. Though the idea of snapping the wand of every Muggle born was one that turned her stomach, she honestly thought that discounting twisted moral standards, she had been well-raised. Was she in any place at barely seventeen years of age to question that? Had Sirius been at fifteen? She wished she could be surer.

“My cousin?” she replied, a puzzled expression coming naturally to her face as she delivered the line so well practiced over many years of keeping herself in the background. “Why on earth would anyone deem it necessary to hurt Regulus? He is a dear boy with nothing but his family’s wishes at heart. I can’t see any reason for him to be singled out so needlessly.”

If in doubt, denial was the best option. It was how the Blacks operated. For all intents and purposes, as far as Andromeda should have been concerned, she only had one cousin. She hated pretending as much openly, but it was a necessary defence. She could not be seen to be openly praising Sirius or showing desire to leave the family herself. Now was not the time for such rash decisions. She had been playing this game of cat and mouse for two years now, and knew at some point it would have to come to an end. Whatever that turned out to be, someone was going to be severely disappointed in Andromeda. She just hoped she didn’t end up hating herself for choosing the wrong loyalty. Clearing her throat lightly, she forced herself to appear more relaxed in his company, portraying the image of someone being won over by such rational argument.

“As it is,” she continued, looking thoughtful for a moment before carrying on, “I’m afraid I do have to refuse, purely on the basis that we do not know one another. Perhaps that is something that can be altered, if our families are accommodating enough to allow it, but if not I am afraid a rejected proposal will not give you the best reputation for future matches either, especially coming from a Black. Perhaps you ought to lend your persuasive talent to that end.”

If there was anything a Black knew, it was how to be sly. They all showed it in different ways of course, but it was undeniably a family trait. Blacks got what they wanted, and what Andromeda wanted was to drag this out as long as possible. It might bring her a little respite from the constant lectures from her parents and Bellatrix about her behaviour, and that would be most welcome.

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